Lily released the arm of Mr. Johnstone and turned to look at Coffin. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m Theodora Bow, here with the travelling show. Colleen Bawn? Perhaps you’ve seen it?”

Coffin, grinning now, said, “You can certainly act. But you can’t lie about those violet eyes of yours, can you?”

Lily rested her hand on Johnstone’s arm to bring him along with her as she took a few steps towards Coffin. She sighed and said, “Sir, you really are confused,” and then smiling patiently turned to Mr. Johnstone and said, “Mr. Johnstone, what colour are my eyes?”

He flushed deeply, said, “Miss Bow, by all accounts they appear to be a dark brown to me.”

She turned to Coffin and said, “You see, as Mr. Johnstone can attest, I am not your lady friend, now please, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to.”

“I know damn well you’re Lily Nail. You and that crazy sister of yours are up here running some sort of swindle.” He then said to the men mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them, “She robbed some fellas back in Butte of their hard-earned money. Not sure what kind of women’s trickery she’s using here, but that there is Lily Nail and there’s a reward on her head. I know that as sure as my name’s Tom Coffin.”

“What an unfortunate name sir, and though I cannot attest to the veracity of your name, I do know the colour of my own eyes. And as everyone here can plainly see with their own eyes, they are brown, not violet. Now I really must be off. I am in quite a hurry,” she said, even as she was still moving slowly towards him.

“Hurrying off to church?”

“The Mining Recording office. I have a claim to register.”

“A prospector as well as an actress Lily?”

“As I said, my name is Miss Bow. And actually, I have an agent working on my behalf,” she was saying as she continued towards him, “A Mr. Campbell, and I believe he has done well by me.”

Coffin frowned. “Campbell?”

“Yes, a Mr. Campbell. I suppose you know his eye colour as well.” A few men snickered and by now Lily was right at his table, able to view the cards laid out there, most face up, the men at the table having just finishing a round.

“What claim?” asked Coffin.

“Oh, I’m really not too sure. Not that it is any of your concern, but Mr. Campbell just said a piece of ground had become available owing to some tragedy. He said other prospectors working in the same area were reluctant to work the property. He further explained that the area had great promise even though there had been accidents, then of course stories began to circulate. Mr. Campbell explained that miners were a superstitious lot. But of course, a woman does not have the same opportunities as a man, we can’t afford such superstitions, so I took it.”

There was a murmur through the crowd, and a man leaning on the bar called, “Out at Kerr Lake?”

“Oh maybe, that sounds familiar.” Smiling, asked him, “Am I going to be rich?”

The man glanced uneasily at the others around him but didn’t answer.

“You’re staking out at Kerr Lake?” Coffin asked.

“As I said, I really can’t say for sure as I was relying on the good nature of Mr. Campbell to assist me. Just before he left town, he contacted me to say he had finalized everything, and I was to stop by the Mining Recorder’s office and pick up my documents. So that is where I’m off to.”

“I was working with Campbell.”

Lily said, “Is that right? Well good luck to you sir”, and then glancing back down at his cards said, “Oh goodness yes, you certainly will be needing it,” her pale hand now reaching and spreading out the cards, murmured, “my, my that is quite the hand you have there.”

“This is poker darling, not one of your parlour games,” Coffin said.

“The cards never lie.”

“What’s he got, Miss,” a man along the bar called out, “a dead man’s hand?” A few men laughing.

“No, he has a pair of fours, and an eight and seven of clubs, and the ace of spades.”

“Not taking home the pot with that one,” someone yelled, and again laughter.

“Oh, but it’s quite the hand.”

“Shut your mouth,” Coffin said, now reddening, mad, not used to being laughed at.

Lily said, “But there is so much to see here, and it’s a bit more complicated than the dead man’s hand. See, look here, this one, the diamond,” then glancing up at Coffin asked, “Sorry, sir? What was your name again?”

A man at the bar shouted, “Coffin.”

“Yes, of course, pardon me, Mr. Coffin,” she said, then focused her attention on the cards, touched the four of diamonds, said, “Seems like you must have a friend you shouldn’t be trusting.”

“That’d be Shitty!” the man at the bar shouted, getting another few laughs.

“And this one, your eight of clubs, a card of caution, for coveting. Do you covet something Mr. Coffin? And here again, dear me, yet another caution with your four of clubs. Imperiled by your short temper perhaps?”

Coffin could not but help glance down at the cards as she said, “But these last two, they really help tell your story. The seven of clubs, danger from a member of the opposite sex, goodness, that could spell rack and ruin for you Mr. Coffin.”

“What about the ace?” the man at the bar calling out.

“Oh that’s simple. Death. Perhaps in a duel. How old fashioned.”

Coffin grabbed her hand, his grip strong, said, “Get out of here.”

“If you want me to leave, sir, you will need to release my hand.”

He stared at her for a few long seconds as she stared back, the men watching rapt, and she said, “Let go of me.”

Then Coffin jerked his hand away as if burned, “You little bitch, I’ll be seeing you later, you can bet on that Lily Nail.”

Excerpt from The Haunting of Modesto O’Brien by Brit Griffin. Reprinted by permission of Latitude 46 Publishing. Copyright Brit Griffin, 2025.

*The Haunting of Modesto O’Brien* by Brit Griffin, published by Latitude 46 Publishing.

About The Haunting of Modesto O’Brien:

A gothic tale from deep within the boreal forest…

Violence and greed have intruded into a wild and remote land. It’s 1907, and silver fever has drawn thousands of men into a fledgling mining camp in the heart of the wilderness. Modesto O’Brien, fortune-teller and detective, is there too - but he isn’t looking for riches. He’s seeking revenge.

O’Brien soon finds himself entangled with the mysterious Nail sisters, Lucy and Lily. On the run from their past and headed for trouble, Lily turns to O’Brien when Lucy goes missing. But what should have been a straightforward case of kidnapping pulls O’Brien into a world of ancient myths, magic, and male violence.

As he searches for Lucy, O’Brien fears that dark forces are emerging from the ravaged landscape. Mesmerized by a nightmarish creature stalking the wilderness, and haunted by his past, O’Brien struggles to maintain his grip on reality as he faces hard choices about loyalty, sacrifice, and revenge.

ABOUT BRIT GRIFFIN:

Brit Griffin is the author of the climate-fiction Wintermen trilogy (Latitude 46) and has written essays, musings, and articles for various publications. Griffin spent many years as a researcher for the Timiskaming First Nation, an Algonquin community in northern Quebec. She lives in Cobalt, northern Ontario, where she is the mother of three grown daughters. These days, she divides her time between writing and caring for her unruly yard.