By the time Bronx had finished his first afternoon as a gainfully employed member of Leadville’s workforce, the weather had kicked up its heels wild and mean. Asa Tibbett himself called off work early, scared the bricklayers up on scaffolds might get blown off the heights of the new Delaware Hotel.
Bronx nodded. It would be a fine structure, a fitting dwelling for more of the rich and famed. Thirty-six lovely rooms with crystal chandeliers and gas lights. Bathrooms, too. Breathless views of Mount Massive and Elbert. Rich and famed indeed. Why, Asa had explained how Oscar Wilde visited Leadville and gotten a shaft in the Matchless named after him.
Bronx chuckled, recalling Lila’s lecture about Miss Susan B. Anthony. With a smart salute, Asa clambered down from his ladder and Bronx yelled a howdy. Rubbed his sore fingers against the thick stiff trousers. Even with gloves, his hands now bore the brunt of blisters. Fortunately, he’d been assigned to nail siding to the frame from the inside, ground up. No need to climb. Heights truly never discomposed him, but the blasting wind reminded him too much of trudging up the Athabasca with Bulldog.
Regret swamped his shoulders. Oh, would he ever find the chance to rid himself of the past?
“Usually ain’t windy this high up. Must be a storm on its way.” Asa peered Bronx up and down. “You put in a good afternoon. You don’t look tired at all. Glad to see I wasn’t wrong about you being a mighty fine worker.”
“I’ll be back first thing tomorrow for a full day. Now that I know you’re sweet on Miz Frieda...” Bronx’s voice turned teasing, “will you convey her a message? Tell her Miz Lila and I have a sick one at Gethsemane and we’ll be tending her tonight.”
“We?”
Bronx heated. “Well, Miz Lila is determined to nurse her friend, and I’ll be helping.
“Won’t please Frieda none.” Asa frowned, poked at a cheek fill of chaw, then spat into the mud the time-honored way. “She’s got a moralistic streak in her.”
“I’ve seen it.” Bronx rolled his eyes and leaned against a beam.
Asa guffawed, scuffed his heel in a pile of gravel. “Some time ago, I paid good money to board at Dornfeld’s. Then, just my paying a call on her, Miz Frieda asked me to leave before I walked out with her again. So folks wouldn’t gossip. Now I board in the Star Block.”
“I hesitate to leave Lila at Gethsemane alone.”
“Ain’t such a fearsome neighborhood as one might think. Fine residents nearby, and not long off is Millionaire’s Row. And truth is, Miz Lila is a feisty one on her own, besides being a very respected lady.” Asa’s eyes burned with prying. “Truth is, as well, Miz Frieda was nurse on the battlefields during the War Between the States and recollects many remedies. I’ll bet she’d come take a look upon that sick friend.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Matter of fact, I’ll go ask her myself. Got my horse to feed and tend.”
“No matter. Miz Frieda hires a neighborhood kid to muck out her livery barn and help out with folks’ horses. She’s got a fine little runabout should you wish to take Miz Lila for a ride once the weather improves.” Asa waggled his eyelashes. “I recommend such an outing. Aspen should be seen.”
“That is a fine idea.” True, Bronx would like nothing better, and was not such a dunce he hadn’t read interest in Miss Lila’s eyes. Just thinking on her, his fingers wiggled, reminded of their journey through her hair. But Emmett was everything, everywhere. Every thought, every situation brought her husband into the middle of it. He considered his grimy clothes, recalled Miss Lila having a closetful of Emmett’s he reckoned she’d allow him to wear to save him a traipse. But the walk wasn’t far. He’d go tend Chadwell himself, clean up at his own room, and come back to Lila.
Bring tonight’s supper.
“That tarpaper?” He pointed to a roll he’d scrounged. “Can I buy it for a penny?”
Asa howled. “Yours for the taking. But if you’re feeling Gethsemane’s roof needs some winter clothes, I did a good job that’s holding up right fine.”
“Seems in good enough repair. I suppose it’s just in case.” The old lady, Miz Edith, snatched a piece of memory just then. As a youngster, he’d helped her in many ways to keep her place free of cold and leaks. But from talk all day long amongst the building men, winter at the top of the world wasn’t the same as the storms of the flatlands.
For a flash, Christmas with the old lady brushed through his memories, the night a gentle snowfall blessed them walking home from church. The memory was warm and wonderful—but hurt, too. Hurt worse now that he was older than when he’d recalled it way back when.