little boy dashed into the room and skidded to a stop next to the proprietor.
“I’m talkin’ to someone now. Ya need to wait yer turn, all right?”
He dropped his chin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nellie stroked his hair. “Me sister’s boy.” Her accent crooned the words. “Oh, a couple of other things ya should know about my place.” She leaned over to the boy’s level. “What ya needin’, lad?”
He stood on tiptoe and whispered in her ear. She nodded, and he ran off, giggling. Nellie turned back to Nevada. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The rules. If ya don’t care for ’em, yer welcome to change yer mind.”
Nevada lifted one shoulder. “I doubt there’s much you can tell me that will make me back out, especially after hearing about your cook.”
Her expression softened. “Well, then, here it is. No women in yer room and no smokin’ in there, either. I run a clean place and want to keep it that way. Also, from time to time I use a room or two as a hospital, since this town hasn’t seen fit to build one yet. I do charitable work and often take in someone who needs a home for a short time. When a sick person is here, I ask my boarders to be courteous and not shout in the hallways or common rooms.” She waved toward the piano. “And yer welcome to play if yer able, or if ya have friends visitin’ who want to use the piano.”
“I think I can abide by those rules, Miss.”
“Oh, and my name is Nellie.” She pointed at the sign hanging outside visible through the front window. “Nellie Cashman, late from Tucson and before that, Alaska.”
“James King, Miss Cashman, but my friends call me Nevada.” He took the proffered hand and shook it. “Alaska, huh? I’d have thought Ireland from the accent.”
She emitted a tinkling laugh. “Sure now, I was raised there, although I try not to let it get out of hand.” Nellie looked him up and down. “Yer a right strappin’ specimen of manhood. Will ya be workin’ while yer visitin’ our fair town?”
Nevada chuckled at the woman’s blunt remark, but there wasn’t a hint of a flirtatious tone in her voice, and her manner was all kindly solicitude. “Yes, I hope to. If I can find a job, that is.”
Her gaze sharpened. “What type of work might ya be lookin’ for? I could use a handyman around the house a few hours a week, if ya know how to swing a hammer and use a shovel. In fact, ya could work off part of yer board, if yer of a mind to.”
“That would be fine, although I’m hoping to also find something that includes working with horses.”
“Ah, I might know just the thing. The smithy across the street from the OK Corral hurt his leg a week ago Saturday. Good man. Got kicked, I believe, and he’s hobblin’ around a bit until it heals up. He can hammer out the horse shoes, and do some of his other work, but he’s havin’ the dickens of a time standin’ for long periods and doin’ the nailin’. Might ya have any skill with shoein’?”
Nevada felt a surge of hope for the first time in days. “I do. I’ll go talk to the man. Do you happen to know his name?”
“Sure do. John Draper. He’s an honest man and a hard worker. Tell him I sent ya, and he’ll probably put ya to work.”
“Thank you, Miss Cashman.”
“Nellie. No one calls me Miss Cashman. It’s just Nellie.” She started to turn away and paused. “I almost forgot. This time of day he’s probably at the Oriental Saloon gettin’ a bite to eat. They serve a fine sandwich, and he’s partial to the steak.”
“Thank you, Nellie.” He turned and reached for the doorknob.
“Would ya like to see yer room before you go?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to head over there straightaway. I’ll bring my things with me from the hotel and be back for supper, if not before.”
“All right then. Godspeed.”
Nevada hurried out the door and stepped into the dusty street. A wind had picked up, blowing fine grains of mixed sand and dust, along with
“I’m talkin’ to someone now. Ya need to wait yer turn, all right?”
He dropped his chin. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nellie stroked his hair. “Me sister’s boy.” Her accent crooned the words. “Oh, a couple of other things ya should know about my place.” She leaned over to the boy’s level. “What ya needin’, lad?”
He stood on tiptoe and whispered in her ear. She nodded, and he ran off, giggling. Nellie turned back to Nevada. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The rules. If ya don’t care for ’em, yer welcome to change yer mind.”
Nevada lifted one shoulder. “I doubt there’s much you can tell me that will make me back out, especially after hearing about your cook.”
Her expression softened. “Well, then, here it is. No women in yer room and no smokin’ in there, either. I run a clean place and want to keep it that way. Also, from time to time I use a room or two as a hospital, since this town hasn’t seen fit to build one yet. I do charitable work and often take in someone who needs a home for a short time. When a sick person is here, I ask my boarders to be courteous and not shout in the hallways or common rooms.” She waved toward the piano. “And yer welcome to play if yer able, or if ya have friends visitin’ who want to use the piano.”
“I think I can abide by those rules, Miss.”
“Oh, and my name is Nellie.” She pointed at the sign hanging outside visible through the front window. “Nellie Cashman, late from Tucson and before that, Alaska.”
“James King, Miss Cashman, but my friends call me Nevada.” He took the proffered hand and shook it. “Alaska, huh? I’d have thought Ireland from the accent.”
She emitted a tinkling laugh. “Sure now, I was raised there, although I try not to let it get out of hand.” Nellie looked him up and down. “Yer a right strappin’ specimen of manhood. Will ya be workin’ while yer visitin’ our fair town?”
Nevada chuckled at the woman’s blunt remark, but there wasn’t a hint of a flirtatious tone in her voice, and her manner was all kindly solicitude. “Yes, I hope to. If I can find a job, that is.”
Her gaze sharpened. “What type of work might ya be lookin’ for? I could use a handyman around the house a few hours a week, if ya know how to swing a hammer and use a shovel. In fact, ya could work off part of yer board, if yer of a mind to.”
“That would be fine, although I’m hoping to also find something that includes working with horses.”
“Ah, I might know just the thing. The smithy across the street from the OK Corral hurt his leg a week ago Saturday. Good man. Got kicked, I believe, and he’s hobblin’ around a bit until it heals up. He can hammer out the horse shoes, and do some of his other work, but he’s havin’ the dickens of a time standin’ for long periods and doin’ the nailin’. Might ya have any skill with shoein’?”
Nevada felt a surge of hope for the first time in days. “I do. I’ll go talk to the man. Do you happen to know his name?”
“Sure do. John Draper. He’s an honest man and a hard worker. Tell him I sent ya, and he’ll probably put ya to work.”
“Thank you, Miss Cashman.”
“Nellie. No one calls me Miss Cashman. It’s just Nellie.” She started to turn away and paused. “I almost forgot. This time of day he’s probably at the Oriental Saloon gettin’ a bite to eat. They serve a fine sandwich, and he’s partial to the steak.”
“Thank you, Nellie.” He turned and reached for the doorknob.
“Would ya like to see yer room before you go?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to head over there straightaway. I’ll bring my things with me from the hotel and be back for supper, if not before.”
“All right then. Godspeed.”
Nevada hurried out the door and stepped into the dusty street. A wind had picked up, blowing fine grains of mixed sand and dust, along with
Similar Books
