[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
himself based on what was cheap, but now he had to imagine what kinds of foods
Catherine would like or expect to eat on a picnic. The trouble was, at the church socials
he d attended it seemed women made all sorts of things like fried chicken, deviled eggs
and pies. He couldn t supply any of that. The best he could come up with was a loaf of
bread, a block of cheese, apples, crackers and tins of sardines. Would she even like
sardines?
At the last minute, after paying for everything, he realized he d forgotten to purchase
something to drink and went back for some bottles of sarsaparilla. He could set them in
the river to cool at the place he had in mind to take her.
Carrying the picnic items back to his room, he wondered if they d make an
acceptable lunch. But there was no use fretting about it since what he d bought would
have to do.
He was late to the Crystal, but no one noticed. The saloon was packed, although it
was still early evening. Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest of the week as men
frittered away their weekly paychecks on entertainment.
Jim emptied spittoons and rinsed them. He wiped beer-sticky tables since the girls
had no time to do it between serving drinks and servicing men. Keeping tabs on the
action in the room, Jim noted those who were mildly drunk and those staggering on their
feet. He kept a sharp eye on strangers or anyone who looked liked he might cause trouble,
not anxious to have a repeat of the last assault. He was too easy a target for drunken
aggression.
Across the room, Shirley Mae perched on a man s lap, her arm slung around his
neck. She caught Jim s eye and grinned. He smiled, wiping the stained rag across an even
more stained tabletop.
A little later in the evening, as he was carrying a box of whiskey from the storeroom
to the bar, Murdoch beckoned him to the table where he once again sat with Grant Karak.
Jim set the box behind the bar, stocked the shelves with new bottles and went to find
out what his boss wanted. The hair on his nape rose like a dog s hackles as he came under
Karak s keen-eyed scrutiny.
Murdoch motioned him to sit at the table, then made introductions, pointing back and
forth between them. Jim, this is Mr. Grant Karak who s bought the mill. Karak, Jim
Kinney.
Karak s hard eyes skewered him. Mr. Kinney, do you understand me?
Jim nodded. His body was tense and he sat on the edge of his chair ready to kick it
back from the table and run if he had to. He didn t know what Karak wanted with him,
but felt as jumpy as a cat around the man.
I m sorry for what my boys did. Nothing like that will happen again. I ll keep em
in line. Karak motioned to one of the bar girls to bring a round of drinks.
Jim weighed the man s words, wondering why Karak would bother to apologize to
someone so unimportant.
No hard feelings?
He shook his head. There was nothing to be gained from crossing the most powerful
man in town, and, for some reason, his boss seemed to want him to be friendly.
Karak leaned on his folded arms resting on the table. Murdoch tells me you re a
hard worker and you ll run errands, no questions asked. Karak smiled at the irony since
Jim couldn t ask questions. I might have some work for you sometime.
Jim raised his eyebrows.
You can lift and carry, right? There will be some loading and unloading I need
done. A strong man who keeps his mouth shut could be useful. His smile widened, but
the effect was of an angry dog baring its teeth. I pay very well.
A job offer was the last thing he d expected when Murdoch called him over. Jim
glanced at his boss, but Murdoch s face gave nothing away.
His days were full with the jobs he already had. He didn t want to do grunt labor for
the man who d bailed his persecutors out of jail, but, again, it wasn t smart to cross a man
as powerful as Grant Karak. Jim gave a half-nod. Let the man take it as he would.
The drinks arrived. He drank his quickly, the alcohol burning its way down his throat
and settling painfully in his stomach, reminding him it was nearly empty since he d
skipped supper. Nodding to signal his thanks for the drink, Jim pointed across the room,
indicating he had work to get back to.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]