“Go ahead, Danny. You got my interest like a bee on a flower.”
“I been learning a lot doing these scouting jobs. There’s always trouble brewing somewhere. Sometimes it’s in the papers, but other times it’s just gossiped about in the bars and brothels. John is feuding with Dick. It’s gonna come to blood. And that’s when I step in and drop a word in the right ear. I offer to solve the problem, fast, simple, and without complications.”
The meadowlark broke out in melodious song again.
“What is wrong with that bird?” Billy wondered.
“Maybe it’s a sign. Just what we need. A new name. From here on out you’re the Meadowlark. And we advertise that. But Billy, once we do, you cain’t never tell no one. Not no whore you’re poking your johnson into, nor no loudmouth you’re drinking whiskey with. Cain’t never be no tie a’twixt the two.”
Billy’s sober appraisal had Danny to the point of squirming. “That means I pretty much gotta trust you with my life. Like Charlie, you could make a lot of money turning me in.”
Danny swallowed hard, a glitter of fear behind his eyes. He jerked a nod, almost too fast. “Well, Billy, here’s the thing: when I was a kid, I was in Fayetteville one day when a fella comes through with this snake in a glass box. Cost a nickel to see the snake. It was a pretty thing. Called it a cobra. In return for the nickel the man would reach in the box with a stick and make it rear up and spread its neck wide. Heard he got down to Van Buren and the snake bit him and killed him.”
“I ain’t following you, Danny Goodman.”
“Billy, you’re my snake. You’ll make me a passel of money, but I know you’ll kill me quicker than spit if I make the smallest mistake.”
68
December 24, 1865
Since their arrival in Colorado life had been hectic. Bret had checked them into the Broadwell House on Sixteenth and Larimer. He had insisted Sarah take the bed, while he unrolled his bedroll on the floor. It was, as he reminded her, a vast improvement over the cold ground. And while Sarah amused herself during the day, Bret’s nights were spent in pursuit of the tables.
Everything changed on Christmas Eve when Bret arrived back at the room early, sometime just after nine. A bottle of fine champagne dangled in one hand, and a folded piece of paper was clutched in the other. Sarah had been reading, the lamp turned low to save fuel. With a total of three books in her possession, she was on her third reading of Homer’s Odyssey.
“Victory, my love,” he said seriously. “Prepare to pack. We’re off to Central City.”
“Bret?” she asked, sitting up in bed, her hair in tangles. As she pulled it back out of her eyes, he turned up the lamp, cranking the wick. He kicked his bedding out of the way where she’d unrolled it on the floor, ready for his late-night return.
He plopped himself down beside her on the hard frame and worked the champagne cork loose with a pop. He emptied her tin cup of water into the washstand, and poured her cup full.
“We own a gold claim,” he told her proudly, handing her the deed. “It’s up just above Central City, almost to Nevadaville, and consists of a discovery shaft, a cabin, a creek, and a tailings pile. But more to the point, it’s a ten-minute walk from some of the richest poker tables in the territory.”
He clinked the neck of the champagne bottle to her cup and they both took a drink.
She studied him over the rim, the champagne’s fizzy sweetness tickling her tongue. “Central City? Up in the mountains? I have to tell you, I’m already about to go mad with boredom. Bret, I’ve got to have something to do. Are you sure that a snowed-in cabin up in—”
“You now have a house all your own, my dear.” His eyes were dark and twinkling. “Though I’ve no idea what sort of shape it might be in. The man who just bet three sixes against my full house lamented not only its passing, but the six hundred and forty dollars he tried to recoup by wagering the value of the claim.”
“My own house?” She felt herself warm on the inside. “Don’t you mean your own house?”
His brow furrowed. “Odd, isn’t it, but I’ve come to think of my life as before Sarah, and after Sarah.” He paused, as if searching for words. “I’ve been giving our future a lot of thought. Central City should only be a stepping stone. I’ll play conservatively, small pots, and each night I’ll bring you a percentage. You’re to be the banker. I want you to sock it away. When we reach twenty thousand, I say we leave. Pull stakes, and take a stage to San Francisco. Buy a nice house. Maybe I’ll read the law, or invest in property. Something more stable and profitable. I have the skills and education.”
She felt her heart skip. “Are you sure?”
“I would like to see you in a nice house, Sarah. One built of brick, with a proper parlor where we could spend our evenings sipping sherry, talking by the fire, and I could just watch you smile.”
Dear God, he was serious, his expression taking on that solemn look.
“Bret, I…” She averted her eyes, watching the slowly flickering flame in the lamp. Her blood seemed to quicken, and she could feel the rapid beat of her heart. “Honestly, Bret, you leave me speechless sometimes.”
She surrendered her hand when he took it and lifted it to his lips. “You are my reason for being, Sarah. I love you with all my heart, and I will do anything I have to just for the joy of sharing your company.”
She drank down the champagne, her insides seeming to flutter. Over and over, she kept thinking, I’m not worth it.
She blinked, stared into his eyes,
