Chapter Ten
...WITH A MINESHAFT SUNK to a depth of 207 feet, the coal seam could be accessed at its farthest point, facilitating ease of extraction via explosives to produce rock cut. While a preparation plant would be ideal, the large-scale nature of the construction would be infeasible in the first months of production. Recommendation is to transport all produced rock cut to Cheyenne for processing and preparation, thereby allowing for...
From there, the report descended into technical jargon, none of which made a lick of sense. Rubbing her eyebrow, Alice stared at the pages before her. Reading Garrett’s reports was an exercise in torture.
With a sigh, she pushed back from her desk and laced her hands over her stomach. The most she could fathom from the surveyor’s report was the whole process would be pricey. Maybe even too pricey. Building a mine, staffing it, transporting the coal to Cheyenne…all of that cost money she didn’t have. The Spectacular had begun to pay for itself and a few trinkets aside, but if she sunk her profits into coal mining, it could be years before she saw a return. She’d have no money to put on a Spectacular. At least, not a Spectacular worthy of the name.
Exhaling, she rubbed her temples. For all the headaches it was giving, she might as well sell the land and be done with it. She’d only held on to it after Seth’s passing out of a sense of misguided sentiment, and it wasn’t until she’d gone through some papers last spring she’d reckoned the claim could be worth a penny or two, though Seth had always been convinced of its value.
A smile tugged at her, one that was sad and fond and happy all at once. If only he’d gotten off his ass and engaged a surveyor, he would have gotten a kick out of being proven right.
Her gaze drifted back over the pages before her. If she sold the claim, it could be she’d have enough to move to Paris.
Something warm and bubbly lit up within her at the thought. Ever since she had spoken with Llewellyn, she couldn’t stop thinking of it. She could move to Paris. She could take her ideas, of dances and songs and burlesque, and try her hand at the Parisian stage. She could find a small theatre in Montmartre, make it into an exaggerated version of the Diamond and start a burlesque, growing it larger with each success. She could do all that. Llewellyn believed in her.
In all her life, she’d only had herself to rely on. Seth had been her husband, but she could never broach such things with him. Only once had she gathered the courage to talk to him of it, and he’d smiled and gently refused. He’d done as much as he ever wanted with theatre back in Chicago, he’d said, and he was happy to leave it in his past. She’d laughed it off, said it was a fancy…and yet it had taken less than a turn of the seasons before she’d made her first tentative plans to build a theatre, had grown the Diamond Theatre and Burlesque into something that supported her and hers, providing each of the people looking to her for shelter and employment with what they deserved. She had made it so they knew the Spectacular’s name in Cheyenne and San Francisco, and all the places in-between.Shehad done that.
How was it then, when she’d done so much by her own self, that the opinion of one man could mean everything?
And yet it did. When Llewellyn had said, with all enthusiasm and vigour, she could do nothing but succeed in Paris, every part of her had leapt. She wanted him to believe in her. She wanted him to be proud.
And she wanted him to come with her.
She wanted to take Paris by storm, and she wanted Llewellyn to be there at her side, to share her triumph. She wanted to complain to him of overly dramatic divas and petulant leading men. She wanted that when she discovered where the best bolts of cloth were sold, he would be there to tell. She wanted to fall asleep with him and wake with his arms still around her, his hair sticking up every which way as he sleepily kissed her good morning. What was keeping her in Ironwood, anyway? Not a lot, really. The Diamond. The claim. Pearl, and the responsibility to provide for her people.
Fear she would fail.
Exhaling, she rested her head in her hands. She could fail, so badly. Now, she had the dream of Paris, but if she tried and it blew up in her face, she wouldn’t even have that. She’d just have memories of her time in Paris, and how she’d failed.
She didn’t know what to do. Usually, when she didn’t feel strongly one way or the other, she’d go annoy Pearl for a spell, until the thoughts sorted themselves in her head. But this time, she was muddled something awful, and not even their banter would solve what was troubling her.
Besides, Pearl was part of her problem. If she left for Paris, would Pearl come, too? True, her friend had travelled from Chicago upon her asking, and true, Pearl had stayed far longer than either of them had expected in this all-too-new town. But to give up a home and a country was a mighty ask for anyone. And what would she do without Pearl?
The rap of knuckles against her door drew her from questions with no answers. For a moment, her heart leapt, but of course it wouldn’t be Llewellyn. It was the middle of the day, and they both had work to do before they saw the other again. It weren’t Llewellyn’s knock anyways, though it had a bit of fancy and flourish to it.
Tidying herself, she stood. “Enter.”
The man who entered was of an age with her, but his roguish grin and loose demeanour made him seem much younger. Jet black hair slightly dampened with sweat curled around his temples, and bright black eyes gleamed at her. His duster and trousers showed signs of travel, and his boots were scuffed and worn. However, the dual pistols he wore at his hips gleamed as though meticulously kept, and though his stance was lackadaisical, there was still the notion the man could turn dangerous in the blink of an eye if he had such a notion to.
Alice levelled her gaze on him. “I had no idea you were in town, Wade.”
Jacob Wade’s grin widened as he sat himself in the chair opposite her desk without awaiting an invitation. “Only just arrived, ma’am. Or maybe it’s been a day or two, but you hired me for a job and I couldn’t get that job done if I were announcing my presence all fanfare-like.”
Crossing her arms, she regarded him sourly. Just under a month ago, he’d sent a reply telegram to accept her job and then she hadn’t heard from him since. “I would have appreciated you letting me know along the way what your progress was. As it was, I was starting to believe you’d decided against working for my coin.”
“I would never refuse coin, Mrs Reynolds, especially not from as fine a lady as yourself.”
“So you’ve been gathering information, then?”
“That I have.”
When he said no more, she prompted, “And what have you discovered?”
“This and that.” He looked over his shoulder. “Is Miz Pearl about?”
“Wade.” At her tone, he turned his black gaze back to her. “Why are you here?”
“Why is any of us here? For some whiskey, some women, and some song.”
