Despite the privacy, she couldn’t sleep. The bed roll was comfortable enough, but something was not right. Ever since returning from the awful outhouse they’d found out back, she’d felt a change in energy that made her restless. Like a thunderstorm was brewing, electrifying the air. They’d been warned it was the time of year when flooding became a problem.
She got up and curled herself into the rocking chair and began to whisper a song from her childhood, “Sleep, Baby, Sleep.” Her father hadn’t taught her many German words, but he did sing sometimes, and those lyrics she remembered:
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf.
Der Vater hüt' die Schaf,
Die Mutter schüttelt 's Bäumelein,
Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.
Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Billie pressed her toe to the floor to stop rocking. She listened. Uncle was already snoring. Beyond the human sounds, some critter was scratching in the fallen leaves outside. She lit the lantern for courage and stepped through the door. A slight breeze blew, carrying the sweet scent of some desert bloom she didn’t recognize. Nothing was amiss outside. The day creatures were settling in for their rest, and the night creatures were waking up. That’s all it was.
She returned to the room but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. It bothered her so much she walked around the four walls with the lantern making sure no one was hiding in the dark corners. Not finding anything, she curled back into bed and covered her head with the blanket. If she couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see her.
Chapter 4
Billie’s senses remained heightened all night. She’d barely fallen asleep before the sun’s first blush lightened the sky, and a chirpy bird outside the window woke her.
Unbelievable. The sun wasn’t even up yet. She dragged herself out of bed and quickly set the sheets to rights. Then she left the shack to get the first unpleasant task out of the way.
Cousin Lou’s outhouse.
Tucked over a ridge, it was walls only, and barely standing. If she never saw another outhouse like that one, it would be too soon. Nothing about it was made for comfort, and there was barely enough privacy. Even though there were no close neighbors, she kept her gaze where the roof should be and listened intently for footsteps.
When she returned to the shack, her hastily made bed looked like someone had stood on it. Shooting an irritated look at Uncle Dale, who was opening a can in the kitchen, she smoothed out the sheet, tucking the corners in tightly this time.
He handed Billie a plate and stuck a fork in the can for himself.
“Thanks,” she said automatically. Ugh. Canned beans, again. In the future, whenever Billie thought back to her time in Arizona she would think beans. Dust and beans. And sun. Dust, beans, and sun. That about summed up her trip thus far.
“Should’ve bought some provisions yesterday along with your boots,” Uncle said. “Wasn’t thinking long term.”
Billie shook her head. During the night she’d formed her own long-term ideas. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. If you’ve got plans for this place, you can drop me off in Boston, then come back here and finish your business.” She glanced at the mining equipment stored on the wall. “I’m sure nothing will change while you’re gone. I’ll wire Mother about the money, so the company won’t know a thing has changed. No one will care if you gambl—”
Uncle dropped his fork in the empty can with a loud clang. “I can’t let you do that. My sister is too ill to be bothered.”
He didn’t need to remind her of how sick her mom was. Billie had lived it.
The strange illness had left her mom with a limp, useless arm, mottled an ugly purple so that she wore long gloves to cover the discoloration. It bothered her mother so much that one day, she’d covered all the mirrors in the house so she wouldn’t have to look at herself. She also suffered near constant headaches, and sometimes hallucinations. They’d exhausted all the experts in Boston, and still no answers. No cure.
“Send me on my own, then. It’d be half the cost, and since it’s my second cross-country trip, I know what to do.”
He shook his head. “Your mother would kill me if I put you on a train alone. Besides, she’s not expecting us for several more weeks.
“Excuse me?” Billie was sure they’d sent word that they were on their way home.
“I told her we’d be sightseeing on the way home and not to expect you until school starts.”
Unbelievable. “Any other plans I should know about?”
“Well, I could use your help.”
Finally, he was going to let her in on what was going on. “How?”
“You see the look of the place. Cousin Lou is gone. We gotta go into town and find out what we can.” He stood. “Will you chat up the women and find out if they know where he went?”
“Random women off the street? You want me to go up to them and ask if they know my cousin Lou?”
“Exactly. You never know what you’ll find out from the locals. I’ll be canvasing the men.” He paused. “Just stay out of Brewery Gulch. Not a place for a lady.”
“In other words, that’s where you’re going?”
He raised his eyebrows and headed out the door.
“I’ll need some money,” Billie said, following after him. She knew he wasn’t completely broke. If he was going to Brewery Gulch, he’d be gambling with what little he had stashed.
“What for?” Uncle asked, warily. He stopped to wait for her.
Billie carefully closed the door to the shack. “For tea. How else am I to ‘chat up’ the women?” She planned to find a scenic location to park herself in. From there, she could talk to one or two women in order to fulfill the letter of Uncle’s request, and then enjoy herself while he snooped around town.
If she was careful with the money, she might have enough left over for a magazine. She’d never had to be frugal with money before. When they made it back to Boston she’d ensure she had unfettered access to her bank account, so she’d not be in this position again. “You do have enough for us to buy food, right?”
He groaned but produced some bills. “At this rate, we will be forced to contact your bank to have more funds transferred.”
Billie grinned. “I don’t know what your reluctance is. You have my permission if you need it. Oh, and whatever amount you’re thinking of transferring, double it.” Billie tucked the money into her reticule.
In town, they parted ways. Uncle going off to work the underbelly of the town, while she concentrated on the genteel society. Someone from those different walks of life was bound to know Cousin Lou and where he had gone and, more importantly, if he was coming back.
Having enjoyed her meal so much at the hotel, Billie decided to start there. She climbed the steps, eager to get out of the warm sun. Her shoes clomped against the Italian tiles in the entryway, and she marveled again at how beautiful and modern the new hotel was. She had to convince Uncle Dale to let her stay here.
A waitress, a plain girl wearing a white shirtwaist and black gored skirt, directed her to a window seat. “Is this suitable?”
Billie smiled at her. “Yes, thank you. May I ask…my cousin Lou lives up on that mountain over there. Do you know him?”
The waitress raised an eyebrow. “Your cousin you say?”
“Yes, but his place looks abandoned. Is he coming back?”
The waitress suppressed a laugh. “You don’t know your cousin very well, do you?”
“Uh…” Billie was shocked at the rudeness.
“Hey, Florence!” the waitress called across the room. “This gal’s asking about her cousin Lou from up on Chihuahua Hill.” She jerked her thumb in the general direction. “Wants to know where he’s gone.”
Florence smiled, shook her head, and went back to serving coffee.
Billie sensed they were making fun of her, but she didn’t know why. She’d asked a perfectly normal question.
; “Does this mean you know him?”
“May I take your order?” the waitress asked, suddenly turning professional.
“Tea and cakes for now,” Billie said calmly, refusing to show the waitress how annoyed she was. Why wouldn’t the woman just tell her what she knew? Was he coming back or not?
Billie had a notion that Cousin Lou might have a reputation. If so, Uncle Dale would have an easier time gathering information than she would. Perhaps Lou was a gambler and a ladies’ man with a string of debts and broken hearts. Well, she wasn’t about to pay for his bad habits, too.
When the food arrived, Billie took her time eating, smiling politely at the hotel guests to let them know she was friendly and in the mood for conversation. But no one took her cues. Seems the waitress got to them first, and they all stared at her in open curiosity. Eventually, she gave up trying to make friends. What did she care if Lou got the watch or not. If he wanted it, he could come and get it himself.
With her hopes of a pleasant day spent at tea gone, Billie rose from her table taking great care to keep her back straight, like there was a string pulling up from her head, the way they’d taught her at finishing school. She floated out of the room as if she had not a worry to her name. She was a queen, and these peasants could gossip all the louder once she left.
She was used to gossips back home, but they were the jealous sort, not the making-fun sort. Billie supposed she and her friends might have been the making-fun sort, and she didn’t like how it felt to be on the receiving end.
Now where to go next? She followed the boardwalk to the center of town, noting the bakery, a newspaper, a quaint restaurant, and a shoe store. A pretty beaded shoe in the window caught her eye. She touched the glass. This was where she should have looked for boots; she’d been too impulsive in her earlier purchase.
She peeked at her sturdy brown footwear. No, she approved of her boots. They saved her feet during that steep climb up and down the mountain. Had she gone into this store, she would have bought a pair of shoes as useless as the ones she broke.
Clothes were her weakness. Her mother always told her to watch her vanity, but Billie couldn’t understand why. If you had to dress your body, you might as well do so with style.
A horse and buggy passed behind her, the reflection sliding along the window. And behind them, there was that boy again. Still watching her from a distance. In the mood she was in, she did what she would never do back in Boston. She turned and openly met his stare, arms crossed to convey her feelings. He acted like he owned this town, and that was irritating. He was rude, and she wanted him to know it.
He startled, pulled his hat low like the last time, then rounded the corner of the bank building.
Billie waited for another horse and wagon to pass before she followed after him to speak her mind.
Chapter 5
By the time Billie had rounded the bank, the mystery boy was skirting another building to circle back to the main road. She increased her pace, determined to catch up, and only slightly worried that he was leading her into Brewery Gulch. Uncle Dale would have a fit to learn she stepped one foot down that street, never mind winding in and around the buildings following some strange boy.
Her new boots made her bold…or was it foolish? Whatever. She was irritated with her uncle and the people in this town. Also, her cousin for being gone.
And now she was trying to talk to a boy with no one to properly introduce them. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was handsome enough to remind her of Branson, but that wasn’t why she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to know why he seemed to be following her. Or, in this instance, trying to hide from her.
When he dodged between two saloons, she ran up to the main thoroughfare and on to the next building. She stepped up on the boardwalk and waited. Sure enough, he rounded the corner, looking back over his shoulder.
“Ha.” She jumped down in front of him, triumphant.
Surprised, he nearly walked into her, and then he spun around, ready to take off again.
“I can do this all day,” she called out. There truly was nothing for her to do but wait for her uncle. No one was going to tell her about Cousin Lou. The women in this town weren’t cooperative in the least.
He stopped. Turned. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you?” She faltered, glancing around. Now she could see what was different about this side of town, and what her uncle didn’t want her to see. A man was collapsed against a wall, passed out from the liquor he’d bought inside the saloons, while strains of “The Entertainer” by Scott Joplin pounded out joyfully on a player piano. Across the street, the two ladies who watched them with keen interest were not dressed modestly like the ladies back in Boston.
“I-I,” she stuttered before squaring her shoulders. “I want to know why you keep staring at me.”
Now it was his turn to look sheepish.
“I apologize,” he said with a slight nod. “You’re new, and I was curious is all.”
Likely story. “Boomtowns are filled with new people. Why should I be any different?”
He quirked a smile, his confidence apparently returning, and leaned his shoulder against the building. “None of them are as pretty as you.”
And did his blue eyes just twinkle?
She widened her own eyes in surprise, hoping her warm cheeks weren’t signs of a blush coming on. Branson would never talk to her so openly. She quickly masked her face to one of indifference.
“If you’re expecting me to swoon, you’re mistaken.”
He pushed himself off the wall. “Is that a Boston accent I hear?”
Her hometown roots were apparently too hard to hide. “Yes.”
“Is Boston as nice as they say?”
She shrugged. “Of course.” She hadn’t really thought about it.
“I want to go there someday.”
“Oh.” She supposed she could see him fitting in with her crowd, if he got himself some new clothes. “Well, it’s a lovely town.” He really was quite handsome.
Meanwhile, the bawdy ladies across the street had come closer, pretending they were interested in the window display.
The boy saw them as well and abruptly started walking again. “You shouldn’t be up here. I’m taking you back to your side of town.”
Billie followed, with one last look at the ladies. Seeing them up closer, she was dismayed to see how young they were. Certainly, closer to her age than made her comfortable. How did they end up here? And what was their interest in this boy?
“Are you coming?” he called.
Tucking away her worry and jealousy, she caught up with him.
“So, who are you?” she asked.
“Name’s Winn. Winn Harris.”
He tipped his hat, and she caught a glimpse of his golden hair.
“Wilhelmina Bergmann,” she said. “But you can call me Billie.”
“Bergmann. From Bergmann Consolidated Mining?”
“Yes, that’s the one. You’ve heard of it?” Even here she couldn’t escape the family name.
“This here’s a mining camp in case you didn’t notice. Most of these folks have worked all around the world, even for your daddy, I bet. Is he here on business?”
They were nearing the assayer’s office where they first saw each other.
“My dad passed away recently.” She took a deep breath, hoping her voice would come out steady. “I’m here with my uncle, who is helping settle the estate. We had some business in town.”
Winn frowned. “I’m sorry about your papa. I lost my mom when I was little; takes some time to get used to it.” He cleared his throat. “Your uncle’s a lawyer?”
“A businessman.”
“And what specifically is his business with the assayer?” He planted his feet in front of the dusty shop.
Billie put a hand on her hip. “Nosy, aren’t you? I’d rather talk about why those ladies,” she tilted her head in the direction of Brewery Gulch, “are so intereste
d in you.”
He looked like he was about to answer, but then changed his mind. “Let’s just say they treat me like a brother.” He started walking again. “They’re probably more interested in you than me. Folks look out for each other in a place like this.”
Winn was slippery with his answers, and she’d had enough of slippery with her uncle.
“No, seriously,” he said. “We work in the same place. They’re going to tease me awful fierce about you during my next shift.”
Billie’s face likely registered shock. “I take it you don’t work in the mine.”
“No, it’s not the mine.” He glanced her way. “And no, I’m not going to tell you about it. It’s only a temporary job. I wouldn’t be working there if I didn’t have to.”
“We always have choices, Mr. Harris.” She lifted her chin.
He nudged a rock off the boardwalk. “Maybe you do. The path isn’t always easy to see for the rest of us.” He stopped. “Well, here we are Miss Bergmann. Your side of town. Shopping is that way.” He pointed her down the street.
She would have been annoyed if his tone wasn’t so sweet. Something about this boy made her want to know more about him. “D-do you know my cousin Lou who lives up on the mountain? We came here to find him, but his cabin is empty.”
“Lou, eh? He’s your cousin?”
Why does everyone repeat the question? “You know him?”
“What do you want to find Lou for?”
“Again, not your business. Is he gone for good?”
“No, Lou’ll be back soon, I can guarantee.” He stretched out the word guar—an—tee.
Hm. He knows something. “How soon is soon?”
“Let’s just say Lou has several reasons to be back here.”
Billie was about to question him further when she noticed Uncle Dale walking down the boardwalk toward them.
Winn noticed, too, and took a step away. He lifted his hat. “Do yourself a favor. Go on back to Boston before it’s too late, city girl.” He crossed the road, avoiding her uncle altogether.
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