Page 14 of Equalizer
The ghoulish topic wasn’t proper pre-dinner conversation, but Abby didn’t seem to mind.
“I like the way you think,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “I don’t know that Mr. Cobb’s imagination went in that direction, but it’s something that occurred to me as well. I quite liked that book, although the premise was terrifying.”
“I’m something of a fan of horror novels,” Owen confessed. “I thought the book was well done.”
“I shouldn’t admit such things, but so am I.” She dropped her voice. “It’s not considered ladylike.” Her smile suggested how little she cared about convention.
“Dinner is ready,” Winston said from the parlor doorway.
By unspoken agreement, they left aside the ghastly topics of missing bodies and cadaver pieces. The topics ranged from the war with Spain to the Antarctic expedition to local events. Abby recounted her memories of the World’s Fair just a few years prior, proving to be a lively conversationalist.
After dinner, over more coffee, they made plans.
“I’ll see if my friend has heard more from her settlement house contacts,” Abby said. “I’ve made a few friends who are psychics and mediums. I’ll ask them as well. I don’t know any witches, but my friends do—reputable ones. This should be very interesting.”
“The Mob may be paying close attention.” Owen gave an abbreviated recap of their meeting with Conti without mentioning names. “Watch your step.”
“I always do,” she said with a laugh that countered her serious manner.
“We have contacts with the Pinkertons and other agents in the area,” Calvin said. “We’ll see what they’ve heard on the grapevine and share what we learn. I suspect some of our friendsalso know people in the local covens—I’m hoping we can get some insights.”
Calvin felt sure Winston had already put out feelers to others in the witch community. He was especially curious to see what role the Mob witches played.
By the time Abby’s brother knocked at the door to escort her to their carriage, they had made plans to meet again in two days and exchange leads. Calvin closed the door behind her and turned back to Owen.
“Good to know someone else came to similar conclusions, right?”
Owen ran a hand back through his hair. “Right—in an ominous sort of way. I’d feel better if she had solid evidence that dismissed the whole thing as a misunderstanding. I have a feeling this is going to be messy.”
They had a nightcap in the parlor and finished reading the newspapers, remarking to each other over sports scores and humorous stories of people doing odd things.
Most items didn’t trigger Calvin’s magic unless they had a strong emotional connection to a person or to something that happened. That saved him from needing his gloves all the time and being bombarded by images. Over time, Calvin had gained control as well, making it possible to heighten a faint link or tamp down one that was too strong.
“Unless you have need of something, I’m going to make an early night of it,” Winston said, leaning into the compartment. “I sent messages to some friends of mine in the supernatural community in town, but it may take a day or two for me to hear back. If we’re lucky, they might give us some clarity about where the local covens stand and who is aligned with whom.”
“Thank you,” Calvin said. “For everything.”
“You are most welcome. Have a good evening.”
Since it seemed early to turn in just yet, Calvin and Owen settled on the sofa once more, sitting hip to knee now that there was no one to interrupt.
“Did you see there’s a Wild West show coming to Chicago this week?” Calvin turned his paper so Owen could see the illustrated, full-page advertisement.
“Huh. I heard that the Western show during the World’s Fair was one of the biggest ever,” Owen remarked.
“How do you think it compares to what you saw when you were out there?” Calvin asked. He and Owen had talked about the years before they met, but rarely in great detail since it seemed as if they had been in constant danger. Seeing the ad for the show, Calvin tried to picture Owen as a cowboy and found the image surprisingly sexy.
“I suspect it’s highly sensationalized, much less dangerous, and the performers bathe more regularly,” Owen replied in a droll tone. “I was with the Army, not a cowboy, although we ran into them from time to time, especially on leave in town.”
“With all the riding, sharpshooting, rodeo, and historical recreations, it sounds like a very manly man’s sort of show,” Calvin remarked. He had little patience for men who needed to prove their masculinity by trying to outdo everyone around them with dangerous stunts.
Owen snickered. “If only they knew. No one talked about it, but it wasn’t unusual for men on long cattle drives to pair up for the duration since they could go months without sight of a woman. Some didn’t mind that part at all—I think they signed on because of it, to tell the truth.”
Calvin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Owen nodded. “It’s not the kind of thing they reported in the newspapers back East, where stories about the tough-as-nails cowboy sold copies, but it’s true. For some men, they paired up for one drive and went their separate ways like it neverhappened when they finished the job. For others, the ones who were lifers, they were true mates, good as married but without the paperwork. A few even got rings.”
“And they didn’t get lynched?” Calvin had never heard this side of the story.
