Chapter Five
ALICE STARED DOWN AT the map Garrett had placed before her and traced her index finger over the section coloured in blue. “So this is the latest exploration?”
“Yes.” Garrett leant in next to her. “The coal’s about two hundred, two hundred fifty feet down. I’ve found sandstone and some shale. Coal is next.”
“And you are certain?” Blue covered a depressingly small section of the map.
“As certain as I can be.”
“Well, all right then.” Abandoning the map, she sat herself before his battered desk in his equally battered chair. She frowned. She had offered Garrett better furnishings time and time again. She had desks and chairs from upgrading the Diamond, and she always offered them to the surveyor first. Garrett, however, always politely refused.
As Garrett had suggested, she’d come to the inspect the claim and receive his progress report. It had taken a good hour or more to walk out here, and the meeting would make it over three before she would return. With the Spectacular less than a week away, she hadn’t much time to spend in pursuits not in its service, but Garrett had been right. She’d needed this reassurance and the distraction. She could work herself into a frenzy making sure all was right with the Spectacular, and an hour or two away from it would do no harm.
She’d also found herself thinking too much of Llewellyn. The pretty man and his contradictions distracted her constantly, such that she found herself thinking of him when talking with her stage manager, or when discussing set construction with the Diamond’s foreman. Even on the walk over her, she’ d found her thoughts drifting to him time and again. She still hadn’t decided what she would do with the attraction he stirred in her, but the mystery of the Englishman and his great lie would keep until after the Spectacular was done.
Belatedly, she realised Garrett was patiently awaiting her instruction. Goddamnit, once again Llewellyn had stolen her wits. “What’s your opinion on how we should proceed?”
The surveyor ran a hand through his hair, leaving a trail of rock-dust on the blond strands behind. “I’m of the notion we should push farther into the claim and begin the proceedings to sink the first mine.”
“Then that is how we will proceed.” Usually, Garrett cleaned up before their meetings, but she’d come upon him suddenly. She’d thought she’d sent word of her imminent arrival, but it could be it had slipped her mind. In the week leading up to the Spectacular, she was lucky if she remembered to eat breakfast. “Have you heard any more rumours?”
“Only that Thomson and Glick have sold their claims, but won’t tell to who.”
“I thought Thomson and Glick abandoned those claims because they were tapped out. Why would anyone pay anything for them?”
Garrett shrugged. “It seems this company don’t agree.”
That gave her pause, and she didn’t like it when things gave her pause. “Do you have a notion yet of which company it is?”
He shook his head. “It might be prudent to send for an inquiry agent.”
“I’ve already sent for Wade,” she said distractedly.
Garrett tensed. “Wade?” he asked carefully.
She nodded, her thoughts on this new development. “We’ll keep it quiet-like, though. If this company don’t want us to know who they are, we should repay them in kind.”
Garrett didn’t respond.
She glanced at him. His brows were knitted together. “Anything wrong?”
He blinked. “Nothing. Let me know when Wade arrives and I’ll tell him what I know.”
Rising, she nodded. “Thank you, Garrett.”
Rising also, he nodded, his expression blank. “Good day, Mrs Reynolds.”
“And to you,” she said, and departed.
***
WALKING BACK TO IRONWOOD always set Alice’s mood to rights. While she loved the Diamond, some days it seemed she never saw the outside of its four walls. These meetings with Garrett allowed for exercise and restoration of the constitution. Fresh air and a sense of purpose compounded the happiness the exercise always stirred in her, and she walked with feet made light at the productive start to her day.
Holding her head high, she entered the town limits. Here, the openness of the range was overtaken by the tents and temporary structures of those folk new to Ironwood, looking to make a living in the fur trade, or maybe one of the coal mines that had been sunk by other claims.
Lifting her black skirts, she trudged through the muck, joining the pedestrians and workmen milling about the street. The mud was thick here, and there was no boardwalk to protect against its spread, the men sporting flecks up the back of their trousers, the women with dirt on their petticoats. This was a rougher part of town, and not particularly conducive to the perambulations of solitary women. However, at this time of day, no one paid her much mind. Early afternoon saw most men down the mines or in the centre of town selling their wares. As long as she acted as if she had no concern, none should approach her.
Someone shoved against her shoulder. She stumbled, heart leaping from its regular place to her throat as the man who shoved her pushed a path through others on the street. Sourly, she wiped her hands and urged herself to calm. Picking up her skirts, which were of course liberally coated in mud four inches high from the hem, she trudged on.
