The lobby of the Grand Eden Hotel—which was less than grand and certainly no Eden—was filled with guests and others who wanted to register as guests.
Ike, Jake and the boys stood listening as Sister Mary Boniface spoke to the owner of the Grand Eden Hotel, a man who had the appearance of a well-dressed scarecrow.
“But Mister Peevy, even for just one night until I can make other arrangements . . .”
“You’ll have to make other arrangements right now. The Grand Eden doesn’t have any vacancies for you or anybody else. Now, please, lady, I’m busy—”
“But, Mister Peevy—”
“Why don’t you try the mission? They ought to take you in, you being—”
“The mission is miles away and I’ve got to be in La Paz in case the stagecoach—”
“I said I’m busy.”
“Just a second, Mister Peevy.” Ike removed his hat and stepped up beside Sister Mary Boniface. “Excuse me, Sister.”
“Oh, hello again, Mister . . .”
“Silver. Ike Silver.” Big Ike took a wallet from his jacket and placed it on the counter next to the registration ledger. “Are you certain that there is nothing available at any price . . . for just one night?”
“Well . . .”
“Please look again.”
“For one night, you say?”
“That’s right.”
“Well . . . there is a master suite I’m holding until tomorrow when the next ship arrives. Mister Kensington has reserved—”
“How much is the master suite?”
“Uh . . .”—Mister Peevy glanced at the wallet next to the registration ledger—“. . . one hundred dollars for the night.”
“Ike!” Jake shook his head.
“And how many bedrooms in the master suite?”
“Three.”
“I see. Jake . . .”
“Isaac! We’re down to our last—”
“Jake . . .”—Ike put the wallet back into his jacket pocket—“pay Mister Peevy the money and sign the register.”
“Madness!” Jake exclaimed and reached inside his coat.
Sister Mary Boniface lifted the small traveling bag she had placed on the floor and started to turn away.
“Where are you going, Sister?” Ike asked.
“To tell the truth, Mister Silver, I don’t really know.”
“I do. Mister Peevy, what is the number of the master suite?”
“Why, uh . . . two-twelve.”
“Sister, there are three bedrooms in suite two-twelve. Would you consider—”
“Hold on, Mister Silver,” sputtered Peevy. “There are certain proprieties at the Grand Eden and—”
“Are there locks on the bedroom doors, Mister Peevy?”
“Yes, but . . . Oh, I see, well—”
“Sister, my brother and I only need one bedroom, the boys another. That leaves one room vacant. Would you care to fill the vacancy?”
“Mister Silver . . .”
“Yes, Sister?”
“The room is no longer vacant . . . on one condition.”
“What condition is that, Sister?”
“That I pay my fair share.”
“What would you consider fair?”
“Would . . . one dollar be enough?”
“On one condition.” Ike smiled.
“What condition is that, Mister Silver?”
“That you donate that dollar to the next poor box you come across.”