Free Silver Lies by Ann Parker

shifts on Fryer Hill and Stray Horse Gulch mingled with workers from the smelters. A few women moved through the crowds, lugging parcels home from bakeries and butcher shops, small children clinging to their coats. Occasionally the sea of bodies would part, allowing a brightly dressed denizen of the street to glide past. The men admired. The women averted faces. The children stared.

Inez glanced up as she turned onto the alley that ran behind her home. The afternoon sky shaded from pearl gray overhead to beige at the horizon. Doc’s right: More snow’s coming.

Nearing the Roses’ property, she heard the whack of wood on wood. Joey stood behind an outbuilding, whipping at a spindly fir with a stick and a vengeance.

Inez called, "Joey." He looked up warily. "It’s Auntie Inez. Want to visit the livery?" He nodded. "Go ask your mother." A few minutes later, he joined her, slipping his mittened

hand into her gloved one. "Mama says I have to be home in half an hour."

Inez loved the smell of the livery, the dusty smell of hay mixed with the sweet scent of horses. They entered the cavernous barn, moving slowly toward the back stalls.

A small, dark shape darted in front of them. "Ugh!" She jumped backward. "A rat!" Joey clutched her hand tighter. The rat zigzagged across the hardpacked dirt before scoot-

ing between nearby hay bales. "It’s all right, Joey. It’s gone now." Joey peered up through the gloom. "Are you scared of

rats, Auntie?"

"Scared?" She stamped her feet, trying to rid herself of the feeling that traveled up her spine. Almost as if little rodent feet were skittering up her back. "No. I just don’t like them. I suppose I’ve spent too many nights lying awake, listening to them scratch around."

They went deeper into the livery, Inez aware of the whisper of horses: a snort here, a swish of tail there. She finally stopped, whistled softly. A black horse, ears pricked, approached from the back of a stall. Joey retreated. Inez noted the wariness on his face. I wonder if he knows how his father died.

She lit an oil lamp hanging from an iron hook on the wall and retrieved a curry brush from a peg. "Why don’t you stay by the gate while I brush her, Joey."

He climbed the gate’s wooden slats and hung his arms over the top. Inez advanced with the curry brush. Lucy whickered.

"Uncle Mark…" Joey stopped, then forged on. "Uncle Mark told me Lucy’s the very devil. She’s not. Is she?"

Inez chuckled, then frowned. "Oh, Joey. It’s a joke. Her real name is Lucifer."

"Why’d you call her that?"

"I didn’t. Her previous owners did. They didn’t treat her right, and she, well, she gave them the devil for it. Lucy’s one of God’s creatures. Handle her with respect, she responds in kind."

Joey swung on the gate, mind obviously elsewhere. "Auntie?"

"Yes?"

"Papa’s not dead." His face in the half-light was serious.

Inez paused, the brush on Lucy’s neck. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Mama said," he hesitated. "She said Papa and Uncle Mark are in Heaven. But they’re not. They’re gonna be here for Christmas."

Inez was at loss for words.

Joey crossed his arms on top of the railing, looking so much like his father that Inez felt she’d entered some strange twilight world. He continued, "Uncle Mark and Papa promised me a pony for Christmas. A real one." His eyebrows drew together. "But then, Papa brought me that rocking horse and said it was my pony. He said it would bring us luck, and we’d ride it to a new home."

He looked up, pleading for understanding. "Uncle Mark and Papa are coming back, Auntie. And they’re gonna bring a real pony. They promised."

Inez came over and hugged Joey, staring over his head at the dancing oil flame.

His voice was muffled against her jacket. "Papa said not to tell Mama. But he didn’t say I couldn’t tell you."

"I’m glad you told me." Inez untangled herself from his small arms and hung the brush back on its peg. "We should go. Your mama needs you." Subdued,