Inez felt a twinge of guilt as she looked around the frenetic saloon. I haven’t been pulling my weight these past few days . Her only comfort was that Bridgette’s eldest, Michael, was present, working a second shift at the saloon after a full day at the smelter. With his slicked-down hay-colored hair, ready smile, a bounce in his step as he collected a dishpan of dirty dishes from Abe, and the cheery “Good evening, Mrs. Stannert!” he threw in her direction, it was hard for her to believe he’d just finished eight hours of hard, physical labor. “Mrs. Stannert.” Abe again. He’d paused in his whiskey pouring. Nine glasses were lined up, three abreast, like soldiers in parade formation. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “It’s nothing.” Nothing I can tell you without spilling everything. Abe shook his head, obviously not believing her.
