Believe me, nobody will have a greater appreciation for another fine restaurant than Louis Longmont. In fact, I would not be in the least surprised if he turned out to be one of your best customers.”
“Would you like to see the building I’ve picked out for the restaurant?”
“I would love to.”
“Do I need a coat? Or has it warmed up enough?”
“The buffalo robes and the sheepskin coat felt good on the way over here,” Sally said. “But it has warmed considerably. However, I think it is still cool enough that you could use a light wrap.”
A few minutes later the two women were walking down the boardwalk toward the building where Tamara intended to put her restaurant. It fronted Gothic Road, which was the main street of the town, and was well centered in the business community. The building had already been painted white and was obviously of recent construction. The door was locked, but Tamara had the key.
“Mr. Cassidy gave me the key to the building,” she said as she unlocked the door. “He built it for his bakery, but decided to add on to his house and put his bakery there, instead. He has offered me a very good price on the building.”
Once inside, Tamara showed where she would put all the tables, and the cashier’s counter. “As you can see, the kitchen already has a built-in oven. Mr. Cassidy was going to bake bread there. I’ll use it for pies, and I’ll buy my bread from him. It was part of the agreement to sell the building to me.”
They spent half an hour in the building, making plans for curtains, what color to paint the walls, the type of tablecloths that should be used, what pictures Tamara would want to put on the wall.
“I’ve made some drawings of what I think it should be if you would like to see them,” she said. “They are back at the house.”
They returned to Tamara’s house and spent the rest of the day looking at drawings, and at swaths of material.
“I’m getting as excited about it as if I were the one doing it,” Sally said.
“Well, in a very real sense, you are the one doing it,” Tamara said. “You will be my full partner.”
“No, I’ll be a minor partner,” Sally insisted. “You are the one who will be doing all the work. Though I think I would love to come over here and help you decorate, and get everything started.”
“I’ve never had such a friend as you,” Tamara said.
“As soon as the bank opens tomorrow, we will go make all the financial arrangements,” Sally promised.
Early the next morning, Bill Dinkins, John Putnam, Cole Parnell, and Frank and Travis Slater were camped in the shadow of Castle Peak, having a breakfast of coffee and jerky. Though it was late spring, the sun had not yet peeked over the mountain. At that elevation at that time of year, it was still quite cool, if not cold, and the men were huddled around the fire, reluctant to give up its warmth.
“How much money you reckon is in the bank?” Parnell asked.
“A lot,” Dinkins said.
“How can there be all that much? I mean, bein’ as the town is so little and all?” Putnam asked.
“Gothic is a silver mining town,” Dinkins explained. “They keep a lot of money in their bank so’s they can handle the silver.”
“Hope it pays better ’n the last bank I hit,” Parnell said. “Last bank I robbed I come up with only seventy-six dollars, ’n five years in prison.”
The others laughed.
“What are you laughin’ at?” Parnell asked Putnam. “You was right there in prison with me.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t for no seventy-six dollars. I got more money ’n that.”
“How much did you get, Putnam?” Travis asked.
“I got me a hunnert ’n seven dollars,” Putnam replied, then wondered why the others laughed at him.
“I guarantee you there’s more ’n seventy-six, or even a hunnert ’n seven dollars in this bank,” Dinkins said. “And I don’t plan on goin’ to prison.”
None of them had asked Dinkins about the debacle in Buffalo, and he hadn’t told them. It was just as well they knew nothing about it.
In the town of Gothic, Sally, Tamara, and Cal were having breakfast in the dining room of the Silver Lode Hotel.
“Miz McKenzie, when you get your own restaurant started, why, we can eat with you whenever we come over,” Cal said.
“Yes, indeed,” Tamara replied. “And you can eat as my guest. There will be no charge.”
“You might want to rethink that, Tamara,” Sally said. “You don’t have any idea how much food Calvin Woods can pack away.”
“Oh, I think I will be able to manage it,” Tamara replied.
“Miss Sally, are you goin’ to teach Miz McKenzie how to make bear claws?”
“Tamara is quite a good cook. I’m sure she needs no instruction from me.”
“Maybe so,” Cal said. “But I don’t think anyone can make bear claws as good as you do.”
Sally laughed. “Cal, the way you and Pearlie eat bear claws, I don’t think it would make any difference to either one of you, who made them.”
“I don’t know. Yours is—are”—he corrected himself—“awfully good.”
