Free The Fire of Greed by Bill Yenne

price.”
    In the dim light of Madame de la Gravière’s small restaurant, the wine seemed black as night, but where the light of the flickering candles caught it, the hue was that of rubies. She watched his face carefully as he took his first sip.
    â€œVery nice,” he pronounced happily.
    A broad smile creased the face of Therese de la Gravière.
    â€œA man should not drink a nectar so fine alone,” Richardson observed, gesturing to the chair opposite his. “May I buy
you
a glass of this fine produce of your homeland?”
    â€œ
Merci
,” she said with a slight bow. “
Pourquoi pas?
It is a slow night . . . not many customers with the legislature out of session.”
    â€œTo the railroad and the changes for the better,” he said, touching her glass.
    â€œTo the railroad.” She smiled. “There have been so many things that will now be available to us from the outside world. It is almost as though the world has suddenly grown smaller.”
    â€œDo you plan to travel, perhaps to the East, or back to France?”
    â€œOh no,” she said, shaking her head. “My place is here. Nicolette and I have made our lives here. But there I am, speaking for my daughter. She may feel differently. She has never seen the East, and has few memories of France.”
    â€œShe is certainly an asset to you here.”
    â€œThe Refugio would not have been possible without her,” Therese explained. “She is a wonderful child who works hard and is good with customers.”
    â€œQuite true,” Richardson agreed.
    â€œBut she is of that age,” Therese continued. “She is of an age when she should be entertaining suitors.”
    â€œThat should not be a problem. I see the way the eyes of young men follow her about the room.”
    â€œHer attitude is one of diffidence. She makes it a practice not to flirt with them,” Therese said. “I agree to an extent. I would not want her flirting with every man who came through the door. She is an affable girl, but at the same time she is quite bashful. Sometimes she sees a young man who she likes, but when he is a customer, she feels she cannot . . .”
    â€œI understand,” Richardson said in commiseration.
    â€œShe was serious about a young man about two years ago, but he left town. There was another woman involved. It hurt her deeply, as such things do for a young girl. There have been others, but nothing serious. Sometimes she sees one she likes, but her shyness gets in the way. There was that cowboy you recommended to us a week or so ago.”
    â€œMr. Cole?”
    â€œPerhaps. Handsome man . . . rough around the edges but very polite?”
    â€œVirginia accent?”
    â€œYes . . . like yours.”
    â€œThat would have been Mr. Cole.”
    â€œOh, how Nicolette pined that night,” Therese said with the smile of an older person’s amused disparagement of youthful passion, but with the sadness in her eyes of a mother who wanted her daughter in a relationship. “For several days, she kept asking ‘Mama, will he be coming back tonight? Mama, will he be coming back tonight?’ But if he had, she would have merely smiled and kept her conversation to a minimum. He never would have gotten the idea.”
    â€œHe left town on business,” Richardson said. “I don’t think he had intended to stay long in Santa Fe.”
    â€œ
C’est la vie
,” Therese said. “He was not exactly my idea of the ideal man for Nicolette. His kind, with their guns, and their shiftless ways, and their eyes always trained on what lies beyond distant horizons.”
    â€œYou may not have choice in the matter of who catches Nicolette’s eye,” Richardson observed.
    â€œShe has a mind of her own, that one,” Therese said with a wistful sigh. “It will cost her a good husband, paid for with a broken heart. Is my