Chapter Twenty-One
Nick looked down at Priscilla with love and concern, as he pulled her close against him; like all gentleman he was on the outside of the sidewalk. A stage went racing by, and he was glad for the raised wooden walkways that the main streets of Georgetown offered. Overall he wasn't really impressed with the town, because at the end of the day it was just another boom –soon to be bust – mining town.
He'd seen so many of them come and go – the inhabitants working so hard to establish riches and a social structure – that was all fleeting. As soon as the mines were played out everything would be for naught; Nick was careful to keep his thoughts to himself. He would share them with Pricilla if she asked, but Nick was sure that she'd already come to the same conclusion.
The whole trip had left him unimpressed with Colorado, but he was willing to admit that his view was tempered by his wife's condition. Well, his wife's condition and his brother's past, which unfortunately intersected at the mile high altitude of Denver. Nick could privately admit that he shouldn't be casting slights on his brother's past, since his relationship with Hester had brought him to where his life currently was.
There would be no Priscilla without Hester, so she, and her husband's estate, was the price he had to pay for his lovely wife. Nick had taken note of Priscilla's ensemble and was proud to be seen with her. The underdress was an emerald green plaid silk, over which Priscilla wore a hunter green wool cape with red fox trim at the collar and sleeves.
Considering how cold the air was Nick was glad that she was warmly protected against the temperature. He found it interesting how bright the sun could be, even as the air was cold; it was so different than back home. Nick had experienced many different types of weather – from his ranch, to the dampness of the south to the dryness of the southwest – but Colorado was throwing him for a loop. The sun could be so hot, even as the air was almost frigid; plus the altitude could make it dryer than the dessert.
Nick pushed his thoughts on the weather aside, as he listened to Priscilla chatter about the dinner party last night. She was in good spirits with no morning sickness which cheered him, so he was happy to listen to her for that fact, rather than he really cared about rehashing the evening. However, he did have to agree that the guests had done well together, being a mix of Georgetown residents and the members of the party that had come up on the train with them from Denver.
It had been a disappointment to Nick that Heath wasn't there, but suspected that his brother had not wanted to sit down to dinner with Jack Regan. In truth Nick couldn't blame Heath, and he too had had qualms when Priscilla had said she'd invited the man. She though had shrewdly pointed out that it would look suspicious if they didn't invite him, when they were inviting everyone else.
In fact, Jack had turned out to be a perfect guest at the dinner; he'd told thrilling – albeit properly edited for mixed company – stories about his days in New York City. Nick, over cigars and brandy, found himself thinking that if the police officer wasn't determined to pin a murder on Heath he would be interesting to get to know better.
His musings on the evening were stopped when they arrived at the café by the park, where he and Priscilla were going to have lunch. Heath had recommended the place to them, having found it in his explorations of the area. That memory made Nick sure that it wasn't Heath's hip that had caused him to beg off last night.
"It is too bad the park is barren right now; I'm sure it is pretty in the spring." Priscilla observed, after the grey-haired hostess, who introduced herself as the owner Mrs. Ward, sat them by a table next to the window. Nick nodded his head, having to give the boom town credit for setting up a public park, which he remarked to Priscilla.
"Well considering how much money is being generated by the mines it is at least what the town should do." She retorted with a tightening of her mouth. Nick wasn't surprised by her reply, knowing her concern for people less fortunate. It was one of the many qualities he loved about her, how she always cared about the underdog.
"The special of the day is chicken pot pie, and the soup is Texas style chili." Mrs. Ward came to their table, proffering the menu with a flourish. She was dressed in a dark blue, with a crisp white apron over the outfit. It was clear that she was proud of her establishment, and wanted everyone to know that fact.
"My brother has eaten here several times, and says your sandwiches are good." Nick stated, remembering what Heath had said, adding that you could get two meals out of them. His brother never forgot his poverty-stricken youth, and always liked a bargain.
"Your brother, what is his name?" Mrs. Ward tilted her head, as she adjusted the red checked tablecloth. He had the impression that the café owner was in constant motion, as she oversaw her restaurant.
"Heath, Heath Barkley." Nick answered and went on to describe his brother. He could tell that the woman knew who he was referencing.
"Yes, of course. He has eaten here several times, and even brought his pretty wife once." Mrs. Ward enthused, before her mouth turned down at the corners. She put her hands on her hips, and Nick could tell that something was bothering her about Heath.
"Is there a problem?" Nick queried, not sure what it could be, based on the way the woman was standing there. Heath was very amiable, especially to older women, who always wanted to mother him. He had teased his younger brother more than once on the response he elicited without cause, in certain ladies.
"Your brother ordered a picnic basket earlier today, telling me that it was a surprise for his wife. I asked him where he was going, and he just said that his wife wanted to see the countryside." The café owner paused, to fuss with her apron, before she went on. "I warned him about going outside of town alone; there are bands of armed men who will rob and murder you without a second thought. However I had the impression he didn't believe what I was saying."
"Mrs. Ward, who are these men?" Nick queried, noting the worry in his wife's eyes and how she had tensed up. He wasn't surprised to hear about the brigands. Mining towns always attracted trouble, as he knew all too well. He asked Mrs. Ward more about the men, but soon regretted his question, when she replied.
"Every couple of months there are strikes by the miners, and oftentimes, after the strike, the men are blacklisted by other owners. Since they can't get a job, they end up camping in the woods, getting by hunting and fishing" Mrs. Ward pursed her lips "at least the honest ones get by that way. The dishonest and the ones who have no scruples rob, beat, and even shoot travelers in cold blood."
Priscilla had sat up very straight, but before she could say anything Mrs. Ward was hailed by another table. Nick could see that the proprietress' comments had upset Priscilla, so he reached over to take her hand.
"Sissi, Heath is smart and fast with a gun. Further he wouldn't put Sarah in harm's way." Nick rushed to reassure her, being pretty sure what she was thinking. He silently cursed the café owner for telling the story with horrific details, even as he wished he had not asked the question.
"Nick, what if the mayhem in Denver has followed Heath here? What a perfect cover, if someone wants to kill Heath?" Priscilla's voice had a taut edge to it, as she struggled to control her emotions in public. "Why would he be so careless, after everything that happened in Denver, to take risks here, especially with Sarah?"
He had already seen how his wife's emotions, with her condition, were always brimming over. Nick was very aware that women who were enceinte felt things deeply, and Sissi, being the loving person she was experienced even deeper emotions. Further, Nick couldn't blame her for being so upset, because he knew something that she didn't.
When Nick had stopped at the Mining Exchange Club – which was just in fact a high-class saloon for the mine owners and upper level managers – he had heard about the incident with Heath and the run-away freight wagon. It had come up in conversation under the general topic of the riffraff of town needed to be controlled which was a well-worn gambit in up and coming towns.
Nick though had been very disturbed to hear about it, and had planned on talking to Heath that evening. Heath though had begged off, so the conversation had never happened. Now he sighed to himself, as he regarded the worry in Priscilla's eyes, which only matched the silent concern in his own heart.
"Honey, why don't you stay here and eat, before going back to the hotel." Nick worked hard to keep his voice upbeat, as he smiled at his wife. "Look, I'll go find out where Heath went, which is probably some plot of grass barely a stone's throw out of town." In truth he didn't feel as confident as he sounded, knowing how Heath liked to go off the beaten path. However, his first concern was to get Priscilla settled, before anything else.
"Oh please yes, go make sure everything is fine!" Priscilla declared in a low tone, as she took a deep breath. "I really don't see anything on the menu I want; it all seems too large. I can get some nice soup at the hotel. I am feeling faint from the altitude." The last sentence was delivered in a louder tone of voice, and Nick saw Mrs. Ward approaching the table.
The next several minutes were spent with Priscilla praising the menu, offering that they would come back for dinner. Nick had to admire how his wife handled the societal niceties, even as she rushed them out of the café. When they arrived back at the hotel, Priscilla shooed Nick off, telling him to go take care of Heath.
Nick had seen how the maître de' of the hotel had greeted Priscilla, knew that his wife was in good hands. The reassurance that Priscilla was taken care of led him to turn his mind to tracking Heath. His first stop was the livery stable, but all Nick learned was that his brother had checked out a single horse hitch surrey early that morning.
His next stop was the Marshall's office, thinking that maybe he could find out how valid the rumors of bandits outside of town was. The Marshall's office was deserted, which annoyed Nick, causing him to stomp his booted and spurred foot. He was wearing his ranch clothes, which is what he'd done every day in Georgetown. There was an unbalanced frontier element to the city which made him feel on edge.
He had just stepped outside of the office when a dusty cowboy, walking on foot while leading a sorrel horse, came up to the hitching bar. Nick noted how young the cowboy was, but also the gold star on his brown leather vest. He hailed him, hoping for some information on where the Marshall could be found.
"I just came back from the stake-out the detective from Denver ordered, because of some murder down in the city. My horse hit a vermin hole and turned up lame." The young man cursed, even as he carefully examined his horse's leg.
"What stake-out? A murder in Denver? This is Georgetown!" Nick's voice rang out loud, as he advanced closer to deputy, brushing the horse's head aside, even as he rubbed the forelock. He knew he needed to stay calm to get the information he needed from the man. Luckily, Nick noted that the young man saw his attention to the horse, and talked to him as an equal.
"This high flaunting cop from Denver has been up here, chasing some murderer, even as he as been helping Marshall Tyler." The young deputy replied, making it clear to Nick that Jack Regan had been as officious in Georgetown, as he'd been in Denver. Before Nick could privately chuckle at his observation, the deputy went on. "He came bursting into the office two hours ago, and insisted we mount a posse to ride out to the hills, to catch his murderer. As if we don't have enough crime here!"
Nick heard the frustration in the deputy's voice, understanding that Jack Regan was taking valuable resources from a stretched thin law enforcement agency. Normally Nick would dismiss this as a local matter, but knowing how Jack regarded Heath he gave it great weight.
Further, having heard from the café owner that Heath was up in the foothills – good god his brother could be anywhere – Nick felt a prickle of fear. If the brigands didn't get Heath, there was the mayhem that had followed them from Denver, and that damned detective who would do anything to pin a murder on Heath. Nick hated to admit that the last scenario would provide the best safety for Heath and Sarah, unless Jack found it easier to shoot Heath rather than bring him to justice.