The Mirror by Marlys Millhiser Read Free Book Online Page B

once worked her, and rushed off to see if he could lease her from McCabe.
    After some thought and much questioning, McCabe'd stunned Corbin by offering the Brandy Wine to him as a gift, free title, and cash to boot, with only one condition. That condition now drooped next to him.
    Ever since Corbin started in the silver mines of Caribou as a mucker at fourteen, he'd dreamed of owning his own mine. Work as a miner had been hard to find in the last years as the mines closed one by one. He'd swept out stores and fed horses at the livery, any sort of odd job. Now the black iron that Samuel Conger'd discovered in the area would revive mining and Corbin Strock at the age of thirty had achieved his dream at last. He owned the Brandy Wine--but the cost had been dear.
    They munched on drying bread and cookies that Mrs. McCabe had sent along. Finally Corbin could stand his thoughts no longer, nor the dejection of the poor girl beside him. "What's wrong with you now, Brandy?"
She studied his face. He must not have set it right because the brief hope vanished from her eyes. "You'll just think I'm crazy." She looked away with the most heart-wrenching sigh he'd ever heard.
    "I listened before. I'll listen again."
    He thought she wouldn't answer but finally she said, "What if I can't go back? What if I have to live out Brandy's life? She lives an awfully long time, Corbin."
    "I won't hurt you, Brandy."
    "What if the mirror won't work the reverse? I'd be stuck in this body and-"
    "Would you feel better if you had that mirror with you?"
    "Oh, yes."
    "We'll have it sent up as soon as possible then."
    Her mood seemed to lighten after that. She sat straighter, seemed to take an interest in old diggings and miners' shacks along the way, but soon she drooped again. "I think this is the longest trip of my life," she said finally. "I'm used to a faster pace, I'm afraid."
    "The horses are tired. I don't think they can do more."
    "I didn't mean the horses, poor things. Look at the sweat on them."
    "Tell me some more stories then. That will pass the time for us both."
    "Stories?"
    "About the future, people flying or anything." She did have a fine way with her stories, this little wife he'd acquired.
    "Oh . . . well ... let me think. I don't think you're ready for Watergate-"
    "But we already have gates for water."
    "Yeah. How about men going to the moon?"
    "That sounds interesting."
    Brandy began the most fantastic tale he'd heard yet and, as before, the words tumbled from her lips so fast he missed many, and many were either from another language or made up by her poor fevered brain. But the sound of her voice was pleasant and soothing despite her excessive energy and the tale she told outdid most anything he'd ever read. Even the novels of Mr. Wells.
    "And the first astronaut gets out and says something about a big step for mankind . . . where's Tungsten? We must not be there yet."
    'The ore?"
    "No, the town."
    "There's no town of Tungsten in this canyon. People are still laughing at those of us who are about to make our fortunes on the black iron, as they call it."
    "Well, I don't know if you're going to make a fortune, but a town'll spring up along here somewhere and it'll be named Tungsten. And it'll die. There were only a few foundations left when I came up last Sunday." Brandy turned haunted eyes to him. "Isn't it scary how a whole town can be born and die in less than a lifetime? Of course, Brandy lives forever."
    An eerie feeling along his spine. "What do you know of mining tungsten? I thought your father was among the scoffers."
    "Nothing. I didn't know it was something you mined. It's just the name of a ghost town to me. The Brandy Wine is a mine, I take it," she added without much interest.
    "Yes, and named after you. And you were not up here last Sunday. You and I were talking in your parlor. Don't you remember?" His uneasiness grew.
    "No, that was Brandy. I was with Marek. We picnicked over there by the . . . where's the reservoir? And the