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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] or two he had seen him in church. Odd that Grita Redaway should choose him that way, obviously seeing something there that she trusted, or preferred to have on her side. Restlessly he moved in his chair, glancing up the street. The town was booming, and he had a feeling he should be out and doing, but there were things to be resolved. Should he go to Grita Redaway? He was sure she was the same person as the little girl he had known, and she still must be very young, but when people had to shift for themselves they matured early. Look at Melissa, operating a growing, expanding business, and several successful mine Page 181 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html operators whom he knew were not yet twenty. It was a time when you made it quick or you might not make it at all. He glanced at Ledbetter. The freighter had changed. He was better groomed these days, wearing better clothes, was seen with Hearst, Mackay, Fair, and the others who were moving ahead on the Comstock. Trevallion got up, and with a brief wave of the hand, walked out on the street. For a moment he hesitated, glancing up and down. Then he went back to his own mine and went to work. Long ago when in the mountains he had staked some timber claims, and considering the way the Comstock was using timber, they could be worth a mint. He finished drilling the round, then loaded the holes, lit the fuses, and came on top. When he heard the boom of his shots he counted them. Good, no missed holes. Yet it would take awhile to allow the powder smoke to dissipate. He had had too many headaches from breathing powder smoke in a confined space to want another. For a week he rarely left the mine or his cabin. The vein was growing wider, the ore richer. With Taplej^s help he made a small shipment, then another. Milling was no longer a problem as there were dozens, newly built, and hard at work. It was Tapley brought him word that Grita Redaway's play was to open. "You need to get out of this hole," Tapley said. "Ledbetter's got himself a box at the theater and he wants you to join him." "Maybe." He paused. "Is Teale still around?" "He's here." Tapley bit off a chew and rolled it in his jaws. "Gets around, he does. And mighty quiet about it. What kind of a man is he, anyway?" "You've known his kind, Tap, but he's an odd one. He lives by the Book, up to a point. Or maybe it's just that he reads it his own way. I've traveled with him, worked and fought beside him. He's good at any of it, but if he thinks a man needs killing, he'll kill him. He will take money for a killing, but only if he thinks it needs doing." "No sign of Will Crockett. There's talk around that he may have killed himself, or been killed." "I don't believe he'd kill himself." "Nor me. Hesketh eats supper every night at the hotel. He's moving ahead. Bought a mill that was having trouble and he's milling his own ore." Tapley got up. "What will I tell Ledbetter?" "I'll be there. Meet him at the bakery." When Tap was gone he went and got out his black broadcloth suit. It was wrinkled from being packed, so he heated up a tea kettle and when it was steaming, held the spout close to the suit and slowly worked the wrinkles out, with much reheating of the water, moving the spout up and down over the fabric. Then he got out a white shut and a collar, collar buttons, and cuff links. He hadn't been dressed up in over a year, the last time for a funeral. Page 182 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html He never missed a theatrical performance when he was in the area, and having a quick, accurate memory, he had learned parts of the plays from often hearing them. His reading consisted of whatever books or magazines were floating around the mining camps, which was generally good literature. Coming west in a wagon where every ounce of weight must be carefully judged, those who brought books brought the best, those which would stand continual rereading. Leaving his cabin, he took a path that led between buildings and across lots to the bakery and was just emerging on the street when two men rode past. Abruptly, he stopped. They were dusty from the trail, and their horses showed signs of hard travel. They passed him only a few feet away and one of the men had a missing little finger and a bad scar on his hand. It was a hand one would not forget. XXXVII THE HALL WAS crowded, with every seat filled. About one of every twenty was a woman. Trevallion followed Ledbetter, who was following the usher to a box at one side of the theater, if such it could be called. In a space suitable for four chairs, there were seven. John Mackay was seated in a box across the theater. He nodded briefly. Jim was with him. Langford Peel strode down the aisle and took a seat in the third row, and one by one they filed in and took their places, the rich and the ones becoming rich, the bold, the dangerous, the acquisitive, the boisterous, and the shy. Trevallion glanced around, looking for Jacob Teale, but there was no sign of him. No doubt he was backstage. Trevallion found a seat at the back of the box and against the wall. Ledbetter looked around as he sat down. "I hear this Margrita Redaway is a handsome woman," he said. "I don't think I've ever seen her," Trevallion's tone was mild. "Dane Clyde spoke of her." "He's in the company," Ledbetter gestured toward the stage. Trevallion glanced around at the crowd. He was uneasy, but that was probably because he did not like crowds, and never had. There were familiar faces, and a few strange ones. Bill Stewart, the attorney, came in. A big, broad-shouldered man with a shock of red hair. He glanced about, glimpsed Trevallion, and walked across the back of the theater and came over to the box. Dozens of people were coming and going or merely standing and talking. Stewart stopped by the box, glanced around, and then said, "How's things, Jim?" Ledbetter nodded. "Good enough. Snow on the pass already." "There's going to be trouble, Jim. Terry's got something on his mind." "The war. That's all he talks about." "It has to do with that." Stewart glanced at Trevallion. "Where do you stand, Trevallion?" "I've never become involved in politics," he replied mildly. "I'm a Cornishman." Page 183 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "You're a citizen, though?" "I am. And pleased to be one. What's the problem?" "Lincoln's going to need help. Are youUnion or Confederate?" "I'm for theUnion , Bill. It took awhile to put this country together. It would be a shame to tear it apart, no matter what the reason." Stewart rolled his cigar in his jaws. "They tell me you can use a gun and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |