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ONE
Making Ready
A STRING OF
BELLS hit the door to the outfitter’s store. George Severe pushed it open
and stepped over the wood threshold into the warm room. After he removed his
hat and opened his jacket to the warmth, he walked past the hot stove to the
counter where the clerk and several others had stopped their conversations.
George looked down to
the average-sized man and extended his hand. “Hello! My name’s George
Severe. I’m supposed to meet an A. J. Strummond here.”
The clerk answered, “Glad to meet ya, Mr. Severe. We was just talkin’ about
you. I’d be Tom Franklin, owner of this store. It’s surely nice to meet the
man who just about doubled my sales for this time of year.”
“Well, as much as I’d like to take the credit, I didn’t make the
arrangements.”
“No matter. I’m sure I can give
ya anything ya need and for less money than you’d spend in Durango.”
“I don’t doubt it.” George placed his gloves and hat on the counter and
looked toward the other men standing nearby.
“I’m Stan Maszewski.” The heavy dark man extended his hand. “Mark Waxman
sent me to help you with your monitoring equipment. Strummond should be here
soon.”
George shook his hand as the bells on the
door clanged. George and Stan turned to see the new patron. “Speak of the
devil,” the clerk said. “Looks like half your bunch got here OK, Annie.”
George looked at Stan and said quietly, “Annie?”
“Strummond,” Stan answered. “Our guide.”
George
found it difficult to believe that A. J. Strummond was a woman. She walked
into the outfitter’s wearing clothes that best resembled those of an
old-time prospector. Her stringy, knotted hair was short – just covering her
ears below her dusty hat. And her face was weathered. Even her voice did not
reveal her true sex. “That’ll do for now,” she said to the clerk, “if one of
them be this Severe character.”
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