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Chapter Seven
The next day, as Eddy walked through the streets on her way to do business with Amos Granger the fishmonger, she felt like a bird freed from its cage. The morning air was already stifling, but she didn’t let it foul her mood. She was no longer confined to bed and there was a pep in her step because of it. Sylvia tried to convince to her to drive for the errand, but Eddy had walked everywhere in Denver and she wanted to see the city. Besides, the shop wasn’t that far away. Most of the Whites she passed looked through her. Accustomed to being invisible to them, she didn’t let that impact her mood either. The Colored people she passed eyed her curiously and she assumed it was because she was a new face. They nodded politely, however, and she responded in kind.
Entering the fishmonger’s establishment, shemet the steady eyes of the very large Amos Granger. Were he made of bricks, he could’ve passed as a building on the street. “Good afternoon, Mr.Granger.”
He nodded. She could tell by the way he was studying her that he was trying to place her face, and then he said. “You were the little lady with Sylvia yesterday.”
“Yes, sir. I’m Eddy Carmichael, Sylvia Stewart’s new cook.”
“Howdy-do, MissCarmichael. What can I do for you?”
“I’m interested in buying some of your fish.”
“Bass or trout?”
“Whatever you have the most of.”
“Bass.” He walked over to a large wooden barrel and removed the top. Reaching in, he extracted one from the ice inside.
Eddy took it from his hand and gave the frigid fish a good sniff. He eyed her silently, and she wondered if she’d offended him. If she wanted to do business with him in the future it wouldn’t do to start off on the wrong foot. “No offense, sir, but I wanted to make sure they were fresh.”
“None taken. It lets me know you know what you’re doing. How many do you want?”
Not real certain just how much the boarders would eat, she decided to err on the side of more than not enough. If she purchased too much, she could always make soup or chowder, although the thought of serving either in this heat made her perspire even more.
“You want me to gut and scale them?”
“No. I can do it myself.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I’ve been doing both most of my life.”
He seemed pleased by that and put her fish in a brown bag along with a small bit of ice. “Anything else?” he asked, handing Eddy her purchase.
“Yes. Sylvia’s is open to the public on Thursdays and I’d like to do a weekly fish fry. Would you have enough to supply me each week?”
He paused for a moment. “I do, but I’d have to short some of my other customers and that’s not really good for business.”
“I see.” Eddy really wanted to do the fish fry because she knew it would be a profitable venture. She eyed the fishmonger. He looked like a man who enjoyed eating. “I understand about your other customers, but suppose, just suppose in addition to paying you for the catch, I throw in your favorite dessert. Say, twice a month. Would that be enough compensation, Mr.Granger?”
When a smile lit up his face, she knew she had a deal.
Rhine’s first order of business upon returning to Virginia City from his three days visit to San Francisco was to attend the scheduled city council meeting. It was billed as an agenda meeting and therefore closed to the public. He was tired after the traveling and would’ve preferred resting up, but council business could be volatile at times, as different factions volleyed to put their own stamp on the city, so he had to show. Upon entering the room at the town hall he was greeted by Natalie’s father.
“Welcome back, Rhine. How was the big city?”
Rhine took a seat at the table. “Thanks, Lyman. Just fine.”
“Does Nat know you’re back?”
“Not yet, but we’re having dinner later. I’ll see her then.”
Lyman nodded approvingly and took his seat. The other six members, including council president Daniel Watson, greeted each other, and after a few minutes of chitchat the meeting was officially called to order. On the agenda under old business was the ongoing discussion about where to place the new cemetery. Even though mining had slowed a bit, no one wanted to place a cemetery on open land that might one day yield silver ore, so the decision was tabled once again. Other old business dealt with whether to sic the sheriff on the businesses behind on their taxes, and finding money in the budget to replace or repair a number of the nonworking gaslights along Main Street. They then moved on to new business, and Rhine didn’t bother hiding his disgust with fellow councilman Clyde Swain’s proposal to segregate the city’s schools. Called Wally behind his back due to his corpulent body and the heavily waxed, turned up mustache that made him resemble a walrus, Swain was in Rhine’s mind everything that was wrong with the present day Republican party.
“So, Swain,” Rhine said, interrupting the man’s bigoted soliloquy on the advantages of the plan. “Are you proposing we build a separate school for the children you mean to displace?”
“Of course not.”
