On a side note: I'm actually a bit surprised that, in your generous reviews, no one mentioned the Irene Weaver-Wendell Backus matchmaking. Had to stir the pot a little!
Chapter Nine
"You can make bad choices and find yourself
in a downward spiral or
you can find something that gets you out of it."
~Ray LaMontagne
In his room above the saloon, Edmond Allen was standing at the window, looking out at empty Main Street and the night sky. He could hear the music and chatter from the party downstairs. He glanced over and saw the half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the bedside table. He walked over to the table and poured some whiskey into a glass. After he took a swig, he closed his eyes as the whiskey slid down his throat.
His attention was drawn back to the door when he heard the music stop and a loud voice announce something he couldn't quite discern. He exhaled with frustration and frowned. He groaned and set down the glass before heading to the door. Slowly opening the door, he peeked cautiously into the hallway. Pleased that there was no one on the hall, he opened the door wide and crept silently down the hall.
He peered around the corner, looking down on the crowd below. He spotted the Cat, Adam, and the other musicians discussing what song they'd play next. Not far from the musicians were some boys playing marbles in a corner. As his eyes continued to move around the saloon he recognized some of the miners who played cards in the saloon every night. One of them pulled out a flask and poured what looked like whiskey into his and his friends' coffees. The men were laughing as they looked around to be sure no one was watching them.
Allen's gaze left the men and fell on the people milling around the dessert table. His eyes immediately fell on Jack. He recognized the constable even though he was not wearing his uniform this evening. His eyes widened when he recognized the pretty school teacher he'd met when he first arrived and saw that she and the constable were engaged in conversation. He'd learned from talking with Trevoy that the school teacher's name was Elizabeth Thatcher. He'd been hoping for another opportunity to talk with Miss Thatcher, but no such opportunity had happened, yet.
The musicians began to play again, startling Allen out of his pleasant thoughts about Miss Thatcher. He took a step back around the corner, wanting to be sure no one could see him as he spied on them. When he looked back downstairs, he saw that Elizabeth was now holding hands with the constable and he was leading her out to dance. Allen frowned as he realized they seemed quite friendly. He studied them as they danced and it became quite clear to him that they must be courting. He pulled back around the corner, expelling an angry breath.
"You sure can pick 'em," he whispered a reprimand to himself. He shook his head as he crept back to his room. Leaning against the door after he shut it, he looked over at his bed. Strewn about on the bedspread was a map of Canada and the northern United States along with a couple of dime novels titled "The Jesse James Stories", "Dime Novel Desperadoes," and "Young Wild West at Devil Creek." He walked over and poured himself another glass of whiskey. "Well, Miss Thatcher, it seems you are just a little too close to the constable for my comfort." He frowned and closed his eyes as he let out a frustrated growl. Then, his eyes popped open and his mouth twisted back into a bit of a smile. "Well, surely there has to be another young lady in this town who would fancy my attention," he mused out loud before gulping down the liquor.