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  He sipped his tea and nodded his head in understanding.

  Enough pleasantries, I decided. “I would like to ask you some ques-

  tions about Lily. May I proceed?”

  “As you wish.”

  I could read little on his face. But then he smiled and I felt more

  comfortable.

  “Let me explain,” I began. “I am trying to find out all I can about Lily’s life in the hopes that I might discover who killed her. I’m sure you’ve heard that my brother has been accused and that the sheriff is determined to

  attribute this murder to Seamus. But I am sure of his innocence.”

  Ching Lee nodded.

  “Your sister Ching Su told me that you had a close relationship with

  Lily.”

  He nodded again and then he spoke, “She was a woman I saw from

  time to time.”

  I was surprised how easily he spoke about his relationship with her.

  “Had you heard that my brother intended to marry her?”

  At this he burst out laughing. “Your brother was a fool. No one should

  have married Lily. She had gone into the business of pleasing men. Why not leave it at that? Why should he think she would be happy with only him?”

  “Were you jealous of my brother?”

  “Not at all. I thought your brother a good man. He was fair in busi-

  ness, always paid his debts. These things are important in a small town like Deadwood. Many people drift in and out. To be able to count on a man is

  of great importance.”

  “What if he wouldn’t let you see Lily after they married?”

  “First, I did not think they would marry. Second, I have two wives.

  Number- one wife you saw here and number- two wife is in California, stil running our business there. For me Lily was like her name, a flower you

  pick, admire the scent, then toss it away. You cannot hold her, she will fade.”

  His attitudes scandalized me. I had never heard of anything like the

  life he portrayed: two wives, mistresses, California, trips to China. “Why are you tel ing me all this?”

  “Because you asked.”

  “How do you know everything that is happening in Deadwood?”

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  “This is a small vil age. My people work everywhere. I am an import-

  ant person among the Chinese, a leader of my family guild. It is my business to know what goes on and to prepare accordingly.”

  “Did Lily have any enemies?”

  He thought about my question, his eyes half- shut. Then he leaned

  forward and said in a low voice, “I would not say enemies. But there are not enough women here, and she was one of the most beautiful. She was

  desired by many. This leads to problems. Lily was not a cautious woman.”

  I wondered what problems. I knew her so little, but I thought her feel-

  ings for my brother seemed true. “I guess we will never know if she and

  Seamus could have been happy together.”

  “We will not know,” he agreed.

  “Thank you for the wonderful cup of tea and for answering my ques-

  tions. I hope I have not offended you.” I stood up to leave.

  He rose with me and said, “A beautiful woman like you with hair that

  waves like the ocean would have to work hard to offend.”

  I wrapped my shawl around me and repinned my hat. As we stood

  next to each other, I realized we were about the same height. “Thank you again.” I gave him my hand and he bowed over it.

  “I am pleased you liked the tea. I will have a pound sent over to you

  for your enjoyment.”

  I turned to go but then thought of the one question I had not asked

  him, the one question that I should have asked before all others. “Do you know who might have killed Lily?”

  He narrowed his eyes. His hands came together in front of his chest.

  “We have a saying: Look for the coin in your own hand before you search

  the floor.”

  His saying took me by surprise as I felt a certain truth in it— even as I worried that he was pointing at my brother.

  17

  Charles Hunt sent a note inviting me to have dinner with him at Del-

  monico’s. I had talked it over with Padraic and Billy. Billy insisted I

  should go, but Padraic thought I should not go alone.

  “He must like our Brigid. Alone she might find out more from him.

  That can only be to the good for our deal,” Billy pointed out.

  “Tell him nothing, pour him wine, and listen hard,” was the advice

  Padraic gave me. I meant to use it. I had been planning on going anyway, but I listened to them as if considering their arguments and then smiled and said I would indeed go to dinner with Mr. Charlie Hunt.

  My new waist was ready from the dress shop and my velvet skirt was

  in good repair. I dressed myself and walked over to Elizabeth’s as she had promised to do my hair for me. She knew all the latest fashions.

  Before I sat in the chair she had proffered me, I took a book off her

  shelf. It was one I had longed to read, Little Women.

  “Take it. I found it rather romantic,” she laughed. Her color was better and she seemed in high spirits.

  “Is your husband due back soon?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. He said he would not be gone long. He was to be back

  in time for the ball. But I don’t really care if he is.”

  This was such a change from the way she talked about him before that

  it surprised me. “Don’t you miss him?”

  “There are a lot of men in this town, and some of them know how to

  be quite kind to a married woman in need.”

  She brushed my hair back from my face. I thought of twisting around

  to see her face, but I didn’t want to ruin her concentration. “The absolutely latest style is fringe, you know. Let me cut you a few curls. Your hair waves naturally on its own. I wouldn’t even need to use the curler.”

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  “Are you sure?”

  Elizabeth took up a pair of scissors and snipped several times. She

  handed me four long tendrils of my hair, dark as coal. She rolled and

  twisted my hair and pinned it and fussed with it. “They are wearing the

  hair higher on the head, even putting in switches and something called

  ‘lunatic curls’ this year. I’ve read about the new styles in Lady Godfrey’s. ”

  She arranged the top and asked me if I would like to borrow a pair of her earrings to wear.

  “Do you mean it?” I asked.

  “I have a pair of ruby drops that would go well with what you’re wear-

  ing.” She ran to get them and came back with a small pot of lip rouge.

  “Oh, I couldn’t, Elizabeth. Not makeup.”

  “Yes, you could. All sorts of nice women wear a bit of it. Not so much

  that you’d notice, but a little to enhance what they already have. I’ll put it on quite sparingly. Then I’ll show you the glass.”

  When I looked in the mirror she held out for me, I gasped at the

  change. I looked like a young actress who had done herself up to have her calling card or carte de visite picture taken. The curls around my face soft-ened it and made me look sweeter somehow. The faint color of lip rouge

  matched the rubies hanging from my ears.

  “Elizabeth, you’re a genius.”

  She smiled. “Wel , I know you’re off to have dinner with this man you

  like.”

  “Speaking of men, did I see a young man leaving your house after din-

  ner last night?” I asked.

  “Yes.” She sat opposite me, her skirt sighing
as she sunk down into the

  couch. “I met him a while ago. He is a military man and helped me carry

  some packages home from the store one day. I gave him some tea and we

  had the nicest talk. He is from Pittsburgh. He had heard of my father.” She pulled out a handkerchief. “He had been gone for a while with his regi-ment. He might be leaving again soon. Truth be told, I will miss him more than I miss my husband.”

  Many of the rules of etiquette I had learned in society did not seem to

  apply in this town in the Black Hil s. Since I had come here, I had found myself thinking about what kind of man I might marry. I could not imagine

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  marrying without love, but I wondered how it could thrive without the

  security of money.

  I stood inside the door and waited until I saw the light of the carriage out front, then I pulled my shawl over my head and ran through the snow that was falling from the skies. A dusting, the flakes sparkled in the air and hovered around the carriage lamps like a swarm of bees.

  The driver was waiting with the door open and a big horsehair blanket

  at the ready for me on the seat. He tucked me in and said that Mr. Hunt was awaiting me at the restaurant. I sat tall in the carriage, feeling the warmth of the blanket on my legs, and watched the snow fly. Somehow I had moved

  from being a young girl, a mere housemaid, to being a woman of the world, having dinner in fancy restaurants with rich men. I wrapped my arms

  around myself and squeezed, wondering if this might become my life.

  When I walked into Delmonico’s, I was dazzled at the glamour of it.

  A rich burgundy carpet was laid on the wooden floors in the vestibule. A young woman took my wrap and showed me the way to the ladies’ room

  to check my coiffure. In the large, handsomely framed mirror that hung on the wall, I was able to see nearly my whole self. I flicked away the flecks of snow that had landed in my hair. My cheeks were as rosy as if I had indeed applied a whole pot of rouge. No pinching would be necessary. The earrings glowed in the lamplight. I was ready to meet Mr. Hunt.

  As I walked into the dining room, the size and splendor of it overcame

  me. The ceilings appeared a good fourteen feet high and were decorated

  with fine plaster work, and the walls were adorned with the most lovely

  gold and pink flowered wallpaper. Gas lamps lined the walls and on each table was a tall set of tapers. Several other couples sat at tables along the walls and a large group of people gathered around a long table by the windows.

  And then I saw Charlie Hunt. He stood up as soon as I came into view.

  He looked completely at home in this place. His hair was freshly cut,

  his dark jacket fit him as his clothes always did— perfectly. No paper col ar for him: starched cotton encircled his neck with a diamond stick pin at his throat.

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  He pulled back a chair for me and pushed it in as I seated myself,

  then leaned over me and whispered, “You are certainly the most beautiful woman here.”

  I looked up at him and replied, “And you certainly have the sweetest

  tongue.”

  He sat down next to me. “Dear Brigid, do you never believe a word I

  say?”

  “I feel you flatter me.”

  “I try to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you.”

  I looked down at the place setting. I had set many a table like this but never eaten at one that had so many pieces of silver. Thank goodness I knew what to do with all of them, from serving the fine dinners at the Hunts’. I was uncomfortable about how our conversation started out and felt it was upon me to change it. “How are your dear mother and sister?”

  “Very well indeed, but sad to have lost you. I think your absence

  grieves my mother. She had come to count upon you for many things.”

  “I was sorry to have left her also.” I remembered many kindnesses Mrs.

  Hunt had done me: giving me her clothes, always having a quick smile and gentle talk, trusting me with her child. “Was the Christmas holiday a fine one?”

  “I left shortly before it so I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

  A shiver ran through me. “I thought for sure you intended to stay on

  through the holidays.”

  “Business forced me to return. Mr. Hearst, our business partner, was

  concerned that we finish up some of these negotiations. He has plans for starting construction on the biggest mining business this area will ever see— the Homestake Mine.”

  “This is what I hope talk to you about,” I started.

  Before I could ask him more about that, the waiter came and took our

  order. After consulting with me about my tastes in food, Charlie ordered for the two of us something called “Beef à la Mode aux Champignons,”

  asparagus in cream sauce, and a bottle of fine wine.

  The wine came immediately, and the waiter and Charlie went through

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  the ritual of his smel ing the cork, then swirling a bit of the dark red liquid around in a glass and tasting it. He proclaimed it fine and poured me a

  glass of it. He lifted his glass up and I raised mine to his, and the rims of the glasses touched together with a delightful clink. Then I took a full sip.

  The wine tasted as good as I had ever sampled at the Hunts’ and yet

  I have to admit that there was something much sweeter about it having

  been ordered for me, served so wel , and drunk in a warm and elegant

  room. I felt the warmth of the fire on my face and gave in to the delightfulness of being served fine food in elegant surroundings with a cultured man sitting opposite me. To think that a week ago I had been eating bacon grease on bread and shivering in the corner of a stagecoach.

  “This is wonderful,” I said.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Let’s talk about the claim before the food arrives.”

  Charlie nodded. “We are bringing in an expert who will take the ore

  sample within the week.”

  “Oh,” I said, glad to hear the deal would be settled so quickly.

  Charlie smiled at my enjoyment and asked, “So we need say no more

  about that.”

  I was taken aback by his sureness and wondered what we would find

  to talk about the rest of the evening.

  He reached out and lightly touched my hand, a seemingly casual ges-

  ture. “I would rather talk about you.”

  I pulled my hand away, surprised at the turn the conversation had

  taken. “There’s not much to tel . My main concern right now, aside from

  the business with the mine, is my brother’s innocence.”

  “Brigid, this should not be your worry. You need to think about your-

  self, beautiful young woman that you are.”

  “I hope you might be right, but I’m not so sure.”

  “This country is a grand place. Just look at my parents. Father had

  come from Boston with no money, and my mother was working as a wait-

  ress at a soda shop in St. Paul. Despite the fact that between them they had nothing, they married a year later. They worked hard. They succeeded mightily, as you know: the second- largest house on the finest street in St.

  Paul, a stable of horses and carriages, and, of course, servants to do their

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  bidding. But this is America. All those rules of supremacy, aristocracy, what will you, don’t matter here. And now you are your own woman.” He

  looked through lidded eyes at me. “I think you will do very well in this new country. I’d like to help you do well if you will consider that.”

  One of my hands was wrapped around th
e stem of my wine glass, the

  other was clutching my napkin in my lap. I had heard all that Charlie had to say but couldn’t bring my eyes to look at him; rather, they remained

  fixed on the fire. I was thinking of the story of his parents and wondering what he meant by tel ing it to me. For once in my life, I found no words at the ready.

  Charlie reached out and took my hand from the wine glass. “Brigid?”

  I pulled my eyes away from the fire and looked at him, really looked at

  him. He had a wide and open face like the prairies surrounding us, his eyes were the blue of a perfect sky, his dark brown hair cut crisp and brushed back from his face. For all his taking advantage of me, I found I had not forgotten the look of him. I was surprised to discover that some yearning for his charm stirred in me. If we could meet as equals, if I did not have to worry about how his attention might harm me, what might come of getting to know

  him better?

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Lord above,” he laughed. “I’ve caught you out.”

  The rest of the meal went by in a dream. The food was fine, the beef

  a bit tough but I loved the sauce. Charlie made sure that my glass always had wine in it. By the end of the meal, I could feel my cheeks were warm with it. He told me stories of when he was a child and what it had been

  like for him to go out East to school. The glamour of his life dazzled me: private schools, staying in the finest hotels, always being waited on, and never knowing want.

  “I think at heart I’m more of a Westerner myself,” he said.

  The waiter came and asked if we would like some dessert.

  “They have the best ice cream,” Charlie said.

  “I’d love that.”

  He brought us each two scoops of chocolate ice cream in cut- glass

  bowls with a lovely wafer cookie.

  “It’s like eating snow,” I laughed with delight.

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  Charlie looked out the window and said, “It’s coming down pretty

  hard. Maybe the chef stepped out the back door and scooped it up.”

  “No, he just held out the bowls and sprinkled some chocolate on it.”

  Charlie laughed and tapped his spoon on the edge of his bowl. After

  a few moments, he frowned and said, “Brigid, let us take a moment to talk about your brother.”

  “Of course.” I had raised up my hand to bring one more spoonful of