“Bonnie?” She turned, heart fluttering, but it was only her friend, Susan Logan, mother of the loudmouth, red-headed Jess Logan, spreader of gossip and alarm. “Did Hank say anything to you about the men working late?” “No,” Bonnie said, wondering if he’d said something she’d missed. “I can’t say he did.” Susan shook her head as if she’d expected as much. She was a thick-shouldered woman who wore her dark hair in a tight, nest-like bun. “Maybe they found a new seam?” “Could be.” “That’d be nice,” Susan said, her round face brightening. “More work for everybody.” Bonnie nodded, as if she cared two bits about more work. As far as she was concerned, they could run out of copper tomorrow, close shop, and head directly for the Rawlins’ train station. “Still,” Susan said, “it’s getting late, even for that.”
