dryly. “High-strung.”
“Exactly. She didn’t like it none that we wouldn’t take coloreds, but I’d like to see a place that does,” the clerk recalled with feeling. “I had to send the old woman over to the undertaker, and the missus was wanting her to take the boy with her. Said she was too tired to fuss with him, you know. Them was a long two weeks for everybody, I can tell you. By the time they left, I was feeling sorry for the mister, even if he was a mite uppity himself.”
“Two weeks seems a long time to stay in Omaha,” Spence murmured.
“Ain’t it? But he said they’d been told they couldn’t get through the mountains afore May, and he didn’t see no sense in sitting around with no creature comforts at Fort Laramie while they was waiting for the road to open. Then the old woman takin’ sick didn’t help things either, I guess.”
“I thought you said she stayed at the undertaker’s.”
“Yeah, and Joe Black told me all about it after they finally left. By then, Mrs. Donnelly wasn’t feeling too well herself. Donnelly said he thought it was something she ate, but it wasn’t.”
“How’s that?”
“She took her meals here, but nobody else came down sick that week. No, sir, if it was anything, it was all that bile boiling up in her—that woman was downright peevish about everything. Now I ain’t for hittin’ no woman, you understand, but if she’d been mine, I believe I’da made an exception. When she wasn’t screeching about something, she was crying over it. Nothing the husband or kid did suited her.”
“Traveling was probably hard on her,” Spence murmured. “I don’t think she’d been out of Georgia in her life before then. But you were telling me the old woman was sick, too.”
“That’s right. Joe was complaining about what she’d cost him for a month afterwards.”
“Joe?”
“Joe Black’s the undertaker. He’s got a place in his shed for coloreds and Chinamen, ‘cause we can’t have ‘em stayin’ here.”
“Where would I find him?”
“Go right outside, take a right to the corner, then another right at it. Two blocks after you turn, you’re standing in front of the place. If Black’s not in, he’ll be at the cemetery, which is straight down the same road.”
“Thanks.”
So Ross had seen the other side of Liddy. As he took his gun back and slipped the room key into his pocket, Spence enjoyed a grim satisfaction. He hoped she’d given the bastard hell all the way to California.
Following the man’s directions, he made the second turn, then walked two blocks down the dusty street. Directly ahead of him a black-lacquered coffin had been placed on two sawhorses. On the side facing him, red letters traced with gold advertised the place.
FUNERAL PARLOR AND EMPORIUM
Joseph W. Black, Proprietor
Dignified Services Reasonable
In Omaha Since 1856
“Anybody here named Black?” he asked of a man standing outside.
“Might be.” The fellow flicked ashes off the end of his cheroot as he gave Spence the once-over, then shrugged. “I reckon you’d find ‘im inside if you was to look for ‘im. Ain’t seen ‘im come out, leastwise. Been kind of a slow day so far. Guess you could say Omaha’s gettin’ to be downright respectable. Ain’t that always what happens? Once the tracks is built, the wives start coming, then the churches go up, and pretty soon the damned place ain’t no fun anymore,” he lamented.
“They call that civilization,” Spence observed.
A fat, balding man with spectacles looked up from the newspaper spread over a long, scarred table as Spence came through the doorway. “Help you, son?”
“I’m looking for somebody.”
“Alive or dead?”
“A colored woman. Fellow over at the hotel says you put her up overnight last March.”
“Could be. March is long gone, son, and I don’t pay much mind to who stays here as long as they pay up.”
“This one’s a big colored woman—about as round as she is tall.
“Exactly. She didn’t like it none that we wouldn’t take coloreds, but I’d like to see a place that does,” the clerk recalled with feeling. “I had to send the old woman over to the undertaker, and the missus was wanting her to take the boy with her. Said she was too tired to fuss with him, you know. Them was a long two weeks for everybody, I can tell you. By the time they left, I was feeling sorry for the mister, even if he was a mite uppity himself.”
“Two weeks seems a long time to stay in Omaha,” Spence murmured.
“Ain’t it? But he said they’d been told they couldn’t get through the mountains afore May, and he didn’t see no sense in sitting around with no creature comforts at Fort Laramie while they was waiting for the road to open. Then the old woman takin’ sick didn’t help things either, I guess.”
“I thought you said she stayed at the undertaker’s.”
“Yeah, and Joe Black told me all about it after they finally left. By then, Mrs. Donnelly wasn’t feeling too well herself. Donnelly said he thought it was something she ate, but it wasn’t.”
“How’s that?”
“She took her meals here, but nobody else came down sick that week. No, sir, if it was anything, it was all that bile boiling up in her—that woman was downright peevish about everything. Now I ain’t for hittin’ no woman, you understand, but if she’d been mine, I believe I’da made an exception. When she wasn’t screeching about something, she was crying over it. Nothing the husband or kid did suited her.”
“Traveling was probably hard on her,” Spence murmured. “I don’t think she’d been out of Georgia in her life before then. But you were telling me the old woman was sick, too.”
“That’s right. Joe was complaining about what she’d cost him for a month afterwards.”
“Joe?”
“Joe Black’s the undertaker. He’s got a place in his shed for coloreds and Chinamen, ‘cause we can’t have ‘em stayin’ here.”
“Where would I find him?”
“Go right outside, take a right to the corner, then another right at it. Two blocks after you turn, you’re standing in front of the place. If Black’s not in, he’ll be at the cemetery, which is straight down the same road.”
“Thanks.”
So Ross had seen the other side of Liddy. As he took his gun back and slipped the room key into his pocket, Spence enjoyed a grim satisfaction. He hoped she’d given the bastard hell all the way to California.
Following the man’s directions, he made the second turn, then walked two blocks down the dusty street. Directly ahead of him a black-lacquered coffin had been placed on two sawhorses. On the side facing him, red letters traced with gold advertised the place.
FUNERAL PARLOR AND EMPORIUM
Joseph W. Black, Proprietor
Dignified Services Reasonable
In Omaha Since 1856
“Anybody here named Black?” he asked of a man standing outside.
“Might be.” The fellow flicked ashes off the end of his cheroot as he gave Spence the once-over, then shrugged. “I reckon you’d find ‘im inside if you was to look for ‘im. Ain’t seen ‘im come out, leastwise. Been kind of a slow day so far. Guess you could say Omaha’s gettin’ to be downright respectable. Ain’t that always what happens? Once the tracks is built, the wives start coming, then the churches go up, and pretty soon the damned place ain’t no fun anymore,” he lamented.
“They call that civilization,” Spence observed.
A fat, balding man with spectacles looked up from the newspaper spread over a long, scarred table as Spence came through the doorway. “Help you, son?”
“I’m looking for somebody.”
“Alive or dead?”
“A colored woman. Fellow over at the hotel says you put her up overnight last March.”
“Could be. March is long gone, son, and I don’t pay much mind to who stays here as long as they pay up.”
“This one’s a big colored woman—about as round as she is tall.
Similar Books
