“This is Aggie’s Dr. Hancock,” Agatha said. “Doc, this is Theresa. She’s been with Aggie for a while.”
The wariness faded slightly as Theresa offered her hand, a genuine delight in her eyes. “I’m most pleased to meet you, Doctor. And not a little curious. Especially after the trouble with Parmelee. You’ve done what I never thought could be done, saved Aggie’s face, and swept her off her feet.”
“As she has swept me. My pleasure, Theresa. Bri … Um, Aggie speaks highly of you. I know you’re the only one of her old employees she has honored with an invitation to the Angel’s Lair.”
“Bri…?” Theresa glanced at Agatha. “Oh my. Did you mean ‘bride’?”
Flustered, Doc winced, hands up. “No, I’m sorry I—”
Theresa’s eyes widened. “She told you her real name?” She lifted fingers to her lips. “Dear God, she’s really in love with you.”
“Aggie”—he forced himself not to stumble—“and I seem to be rather fond of each—”
“What’s her real name?” Agatha interrupted.
Doc gave her an apologetic smile and said nothing.
“I don’t even know that,” Theresa mused, thoughtful eyes on Doc. “You be damned careful with her. You hold her heart in your hands, Doc. Don’t. Fucking. Drop it.”
He smiled at the irony. “As she, it seems, also holds mine. Which of us, I wonder, has the steadiest grip?”
“Reckon we’ll see,” Agatha noted, turning as Bridget entered the room wearing a turquoise silk dress. Black embroidery, topped by bands of dark blue velvet ribbon, decorated the hem. Additional black embroidery trimmed the bodice bottom; her corset emphasized her narrow waist before curving up to her full bust. Black velvet stripes ran down the sleeves to dainty black-lace cuffs. The velvet collar contrasted with her pale and freckled chest and shoulders. She wore her red-blond hair long in the back and contained by a beaded net that merged with her light veil.
“What do you think, Philip?” she asked, dropping into a curtsy.
He stood paralyzed. Turquoise was definitely her color, setting off the tones of her skin, eyes, and hair. “If I hadn’t been in love before, you’d have me prostrate.” He swallowed hard. “You have to be the most beautiful creature on earth.”
Walking up to him, hoopskirt swaying, she lifted her veil and kissed him tenderly on the lips before backing away and saying, “You’re a dear one yourself, Doctor.”
At the knock, Agatha excused herself and went to greet the next arrival.
“So that’s your new girl?” Doc asked.
“One of them. Three more are on the way. One from New York, one from Washington City, and another from Philadelphia. All enticed with the promise of riches and a novel working environment. They’ve money enough to ride the rails to End-of-the-Tracks, and from there, stage service on into Denver.”
Theresa shrugged. “Assuming the railroad don’t make it to Cheyenne first. Heard General Dodge has laid out a city. They’re already selling lots. And if the railroad don’t come to Denver? Why, hell, we may all be moving north with our fancy house.”
The new arrival proved to be Pat O’Reilly dressed in a neat brown suit. “A hale and hearty welcome to ye all!” he cried, marching through the parlor with Agatha on his arm. “’Tis a joy and an honor t’ be here fer the lovely opening of Angel’s Lair.”
“Hello, Pat,” Aggie greeted, giving the man a peck on the cheek. “This is as much your celebration as ours. We’re so delighted that you took the time from your duties to come.”
“Aye,” he replied jovially. “I’ve got me engineers and superintendents whipped into shape. We’re stockpilin’ the gold. Casting what we have in two-hundred-pound ingots and ready to run the tailings through the new smelter. I tell ye, lass, ’tis going to be the making of Colorado, ’tis.”
He offered a hand. “Doc, good t’ see ye. Hear ye’re still taking roight foine care of Aggie, here.”
“As she’s taking care of me.”
“A word, if ye will?” Pat took him by the arm, stepped to the side, and lowered his voice. “From what I hear, Aggie’s become a real help t’ ye in the surgery. That she’s as much nurse as office help t’ ye. That she’s learning the medical trade.”
“She is.” What the hell was the man’s point?
O’Reilly studied him thoughtfully. “Ye could do a lot worse, Doctor. And fer what it’s worth, I think yer a roight foine man.” He took Doc’s hand, shaking it firmly.
“Mr. O’Reilly, I thank you for your high opinion of me, and when it comes to Aggie—”
“Gorgeous, ain’t she?” O’Reilly inclined his head in Aggie’s direction. “I’ve nivver seen th’ woman this happy. She glows in yor presence, Doctor.”
“She does, indeed. Did you have a point, Mr. O’Reilly?”
“Aye, don’t muck it up, man. Marry her while ye’ve a chance. Otherwise yer a damn fool.”
Turning on his heel, O’Reilly raised his voice and called, “Now, lassies, whar be the drink? Ah yes. Thank ye.” He lifted the glass Theresa handed him. “The Angel’s Lair. Health and prosperity.”
At the same time, two violins and a cello began to play in the far parlor. Doc recognized the selections as Brahms. Or thought he did. It could have been his poor ear, or being so long away from the concerts he’d attended in Boston, or the quality of the musicians. Denver, though filled with musicians, wasn’t exactly known as a musical mecca.
Big Ed Chase made a grand entrance, having to duck his head as he entered the bar. He greeted O’Reilly. Introduced himself to Aggie, who had lowered her veil, then shook hands with Doc. The man’s cold blue eyes took in the surroundings, as he said, “So tell me, Doctor, what’s your interest in Angel’s Lair?” He hesitated. “Beyond the lovely Miss Aggie, that is.”
“Just their medical care.”
Big Ed glanced sidelong at him. “A suspicious mind might think you were most adept at maneuvering Parmelee out, and the goddess in. Were that the case, I’d say well done. Saves action on the part of me and my
