Saturday's Lady

Twelve

The building was labeled 'Hotel' but James knew there would be no hotel in this part of town. It would either be a brothel or a boarding house-- both those things were plenty rife in these mountain towns. They'd probably charge too much and offer too little, but where else could he stay? It was cold up here in Leadville, much colder than Denver, and he would freeze if he stayed in the street. He stepped closer to read the window signs. 

ROOMS FOR RENT- FAIR RATES

"Sure chance of that," he muttered, but stepped in anyways. It was warmer than outside, which wasn't much, but there wasn't any wind. He stepped up to the desk in the small entrance hall and rang the bell. It had been a long journey up the mountain-- there were no trains and only the barest of dirt roads, and he'd had to pay to hitch a ride on a wagon, and now he just wanted to sit down for a while. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

After a moment a girl came through the back door. She was wearing respectable clothing, thank heavens, thought James, this wasn't a brothel. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I need a room," he said. "I've just come from Denver."

"Haven't we all?" said the girl. "Come on, there's a room upstairs I'll show you to. It won't be private, but nowhere will be unless you build yourself a cabin. What's your name?"

"MacEilan," he said, not following her up the stairs. "What are the rates?"

She paused at his name, holding the stair rail lightly. "Fifteen dollars a week, not including meals." She started up the stairs again. "I know it sounds like a lot, but you can make four dollars a day if you work in the mines-- I'm assuming that's what you're doing?"

James followed her up the stairs this time. "Aye, if I can get work."

The girl laughed and took a right at the top of the stairs. "Tabor wants all the men he can get to mine silver for him." She pushed open a door. "Here's your room. I'll let Mr. Rosen know you're here-- he's the owner-- and he can discuss rent with you."

"Thank you," said James, stepping inside. The room was small, with two bunked beds and a tiny, smudged window, but he'd stayed in worse places.

"MacEilan, did you say your name was?"

James nodded.

The girl stepped out and began to close the door. "I worked with a girl by that name," she said. "In Denver. She had red hair like you, too."

His stomach jumped as he rushed towards her. "What was her Christian name?" he cried. Were his children in Denver, so close?

The girl looked at him strangely. "Emma," she said slowly. "Do you know her?"

James ran his hands over his hair. "My daughter. About seventeen, grey eyes?"

The girl's eyes widened as she nodded. "She said she didn't have a father."

"She didn't, really. I was a lousy one and her mother took the children to America without me years ago." He blew out a long stream of air. "I thought I'd lost them forever. She's all right, then? Do you know about any of her siblings? Has she talked about her mother?"

The girl moved to the room's solitary wooden chair and sat. "I know for a fact her mother is dead," she said gently. "I'm sorry. But she talked about her older brother-- he lives in Denver, too, his wife's family runs a boarding house and a bakery. The other sister, she's married and went to California not too long ago. The youngest-- she lives in the country on a farm with some other children, Emma would go there some weekends to visit." She shook her head, her dark hair flat and tightly pinned into an unmoving bun. "I'm sorry that a strange girl at a boarding house in this godforsaken mountain town had to tell you all this."