contact him again if he decided to stick around. He didn't add that that particular decision had already been made.
CHAPTER 11: KEVIN
Wednesday, February 16, 1910
Kevin got his fill of the real-life historical museum that was 1910 Wallace, Idaho, in his first forty-eight hours. After renting a safe-deposit box for his valuables and finding a room at a hotel on Bank Street, he investigated everything worth investigating on Monday and revisited the things he liked on Tuesday.
The things he liked weren't hard to find. Most of the fun in Wallace could be found in the three-block red-light district between Fifth Street, Cedar Street, and the river – or what Walking Walt had called the city's "Triangle of Sin."
Kevin limited his fun in the restricted district to that of an observer. Though he found the idea of patronizing a brothel pretty ghastly, he didn't mind watching others, particularly well-dressed men wearing wedding rings, slink out the side doors of non-descript buildings. He spent a good part of Monday afternoon watching men with money keep the local economy afloat.
On Tuesday he picked up a box of cigars at Wallace's busiest smoke shop, got a haircut and a bath at its most popular barbershop, and took in a show at a variety theater. The saloon-like establishment featured actresses, singers, dancers, and vaudeville routines.
He took digital photographs of these amazing sights whenever he had the chance. He knew that snapping any pictures involved an element of risk, but he didn't care. Who in his right mind would travel back a century in time and not bring back some quality JPEGs?
Kevin also sought out the girl. Twice on Monday and three times on Tuesday he walked past the house on the east end of Garnet Street hoping to capture a glimpse of a vision. He knew she wouldn't remember their meeting, which technically hadn't happened yet, and, even if she did, she wouldn't necessarily greet him the same way. She might ignore him or even toy with him, just as other beautiful women had toyed with Kevin his entire life.
Still, he sought her. He wouldn't consider his second trip to 1910 complete until he got at least one more look at her lovely face and captivating smile.
Kevin thought about that face and smile as he gazed at a coin in his hand and then a picture on a wall in the Shooting Star, a noisy saloon on the east end of Bank Street. He stared at the objects so intently that he didn't see a man staring intently at him from a barstool three feet away.
"From the looks of your mug, you're thinking about a sizeable fortune or a beautiful woman. My money says you're thinking about both," the man said with an Irish accent.
Kevin smiled, took a sip of his whiskey, and turned to his right.
"Are you a mind-reader?" he asked.
"No. I'm more of a trained observer of the human race."
The short, well-built man reached over and extended a hand.
"I'm Andy O'Connell. I'm a reporter for the Standard .
Kevin shook the hand.
"Kevin Johnson."
Andy downed a shot of something that looked conspicuously unfiltered and turned to Kevin.
"Am I right, Mr. Johnson?"
"Are you right about what?"
" Are you thinking about both a fortune and a woman?"
"I guess I am," Kevin said with a laugh. "You're pretty good."
"I study people for a living, my friend. I can tell just by looking at a man's eyes whether he is lying about embezzling funds or telling the truth about his role in an accident."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
"So what gave me away?"
"It was the eagle. No man looks at a coin like that unless he's thinking of more just like it."
"What about the woman? There's no woman in here."
"Oh, yes there is."
Andy pointed to the second object that had captured Kevin's attention, a framed photograph of a beautiful woman that hung on the wall behind the bar. The woman smiled playfully in the picture, as if she were flirting with an admirer or perhaps teasing a curious time traveler who had strolled past her house.
Kevin
CHAPTER 11: KEVIN
Wednesday, February 16, 1910
Kevin got his fill of the real-life historical museum that was 1910 Wallace, Idaho, in his first forty-eight hours. After renting a safe-deposit box for his valuables and finding a room at a hotel on Bank Street, he investigated everything worth investigating on Monday and revisited the things he liked on Tuesday.
The things he liked weren't hard to find. Most of the fun in Wallace could be found in the three-block red-light district between Fifth Street, Cedar Street, and the river – or what Walking Walt had called the city's "Triangle of Sin."
Kevin limited his fun in the restricted district to that of an observer. Though he found the idea of patronizing a brothel pretty ghastly, he didn't mind watching others, particularly well-dressed men wearing wedding rings, slink out the side doors of non-descript buildings. He spent a good part of Monday afternoon watching men with money keep the local economy afloat.
On Tuesday he picked up a box of cigars at Wallace's busiest smoke shop, got a haircut and a bath at its most popular barbershop, and took in a show at a variety theater. The saloon-like establishment featured actresses, singers, dancers, and vaudeville routines.
He took digital photographs of these amazing sights whenever he had the chance. He knew that snapping any pictures involved an element of risk, but he didn't care. Who in his right mind would travel back a century in time and not bring back some quality JPEGs?
Kevin also sought out the girl. Twice on Monday and three times on Tuesday he walked past the house on the east end of Garnet Street hoping to capture a glimpse of a vision. He knew she wouldn't remember their meeting, which technically hadn't happened yet, and, even if she did, she wouldn't necessarily greet him the same way. She might ignore him or even toy with him, just as other beautiful women had toyed with Kevin his entire life.
Still, he sought her. He wouldn't consider his second trip to 1910 complete until he got at least one more look at her lovely face and captivating smile.
Kevin thought about that face and smile as he gazed at a coin in his hand and then a picture on a wall in the Shooting Star, a noisy saloon on the east end of Bank Street. He stared at the objects so intently that he didn't see a man staring intently at him from a barstool three feet away.
"From the looks of your mug, you're thinking about a sizeable fortune or a beautiful woman. My money says you're thinking about both," the man said with an Irish accent.
Kevin smiled, took a sip of his whiskey, and turned to his right.
"Are you a mind-reader?" he asked.
"No. I'm more of a trained observer of the human race."
The short, well-built man reached over and extended a hand.
"I'm Andy O'Connell. I'm a reporter for the Standard .
Kevin shook the hand.
"Kevin Johnson."
Andy downed a shot of something that looked conspicuously unfiltered and turned to Kevin.
"Am I right, Mr. Johnson?"
"Are you right about what?"
" Are you thinking about both a fortune and a woman?"
"I guess I am," Kevin said with a laugh. "You're pretty good."
"I study people for a living, my friend. I can tell just by looking at a man's eyes whether he is lying about embezzling funds or telling the truth about his role in an accident."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
"So what gave me away?"
"It was the eagle. No man looks at a coin like that unless he's thinking of more just like it."
"What about the woman? There's no woman in here."
"Oh, yes there is."
Andy pointed to the second object that had captured Kevin's attention, a framed photograph of a beautiful woman that hung on the wall behind the bar. The woman smiled playfully in the picture, as if she were flirting with an admirer or perhaps teasing a curious time traveler who had strolled past her house.
Kevin
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