Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) by Ann Parker Page B

she pulled the pamphlet out of her pocket that she had found in her room the previous night and read aloud to her sister. “Our magnificent lodgings are located within a few yards of those wonderful SPRINGS, the NAVAJO, MANITOU, COMMANCHE, AND SHOSHONE. The grandest scenery in the world surrounds it and the waters of the FOUNTAIN Creek flow nears its base.” She glanced at Harmony’s profile, still set in an uncompromising frown. “I hope you are not disappointed with Manitou, the scenery. It seems…”
    Dry and dusty. Rather brown and withered.
    “…a little less grand than all the writing made it out to be. It’s most certainly not quite what I envisioned when I read it was called the ‘Saratoga of the West.’ I do apologize if I have brought you all the way here to something not quite as charming as you might have expected. Perhaps we should have picked a different place to meet. Somewhere more civilized. Chicago or St. Louis, perhaps.”
    Harmony’s set jaw relaxed. A smile tugged a dimple into one cheek, and then she actually laughed, a full and unexpected sound of joy. “It’s wonderful here, Inez. The air is clean, I can actually draw a breath without coughing.” She set one hand on Inez’s sleeve. “The hotel’s physician, Dr. Prochazka, has me on a regimen of walking every morning and every evening. Our little party, William included, has explored some lovely canyons, and the waterfalls are magnificent.”
    A slight squeak of door-hinges and the clattering close of a screen door, followed by a rapid, heavy tread on the echoing veranda boards warned Inez that someone was behind and approaching rapidly.
    Harmony’s gaze skimmed past Inez to take in the approaching person. Her features settled into the sort of polite-but-distantly-annoyed expression that put Inez in mind of her mother when a servant would dare to interrupt.
    Inez turned, fully expecting to see a male figure bearing down upon them. Her ears had long become attuned to the sound of steps on Leadville’s boardwalks and the plank floors of the Silver Queen Saloon.
    So, she was nonplussed to find the encroaching personage was a woman. A large woman, true. Nearly Inez’s height, but with a touch more girth. Nondescript, in a gray, no-nonsense dress covered with an enveloping white apron. Eyes cast down as she rustled through what appeared to be a large picnic basket. Inez had an excellent view of the odd white cap, ruffles all around its edges, that sat atop dark hair shot through with gray. The faint, musical clink of small glass objects reached Inez as the woman carefully picked through the basket.
    “Good morning, Mrs. DuChamps,” she said in a low, mellifluous voice.
    A voice on tiptoe: it was the first thing that sprang to Inez’s mind. The voice, almost a whisper, was a sharp contrast to the heavy tread on the porch.
    “Good morning, Nurse Crowson. Is something amiss?”
    “When I didn’t see you at the early breakfast sitting, I thought you might be feeling poorly. I came up to see how you were and to deliver these.” She held out her large square hand. Two brown bottles, tiny kin to those that had featured in the previous night’s catastrophe, nestled side-by-side across her palm.
    Dismay jolted through Inez. She snatched the bottles from the nurse, exclaiming, “What are these?”
    Harmony said quickly, “Nurse Crowson, this is my sister, Mrs. Stannert. She’s joined us for our stay here at Manitou.”
    “I see.” There was nothing servile in those two cold words.
    Inez looked up, bristling at the tone, preparing for a verbal battle. Crowson stared at her with the calm of a grazing ruminant. Her eyes were the flat brown of pebbles, worn smooth and featureless by fast-moving waters. Like pebbles, they showed not a flicker of emotion, gave nothing away about what might lie beneath their surfaces.
    Harmony reached for the bottles. “These are just the daily doses prescribed by Dr. Prochazka. One is for William, the other