The Hidden Staircase

The noon-time siren had already sounded when I found my way to C Street, delivering the last of the Comstock Chronicles. I was on foot that Friday afternoon as Hot August Nights was in Virginia City for the weekend, and the street was full of classic cars and trucks.

Leaving the Ponderosa Saloon, I paused to check for traffic that might be coming down Taylor Street. It is a habit as I have nearly had unsuspecting motorists hit me, and I have almost hit unattentive visitors.

The only thing on Taylor Street between the Ponderosa and the Crystal Saloon, now the Virginia City Tourism Commission, was town folk dressed in period attire. As I passed, a woman in a colorful period dress tumbled from the top of the street where it intersects with B Street.

She had a wild-eyed expression and looked more puzzled than hurt.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“That was quite the fall.”

“It was.”

That’s when it occurred to me that she had dropped from a height, but there was nothing tall near where she’d landed.

“How did you…” I started to say as I turned to the woman.

She was gone.

“Did anyone see where the woman in the fancy gown went?” I shouted.

No one had. I raced to the boardwalk to look, but with no fancy gown to be seen, I returned to Taylor.

“What’s wrong?” one of the old-timers asked.

“I’m trying to figure out how that woman fell from about here,” I said, pointing to the side of the building. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does when you know there were wooden stairs against the building back in the 1990s when it was still called the Sharon House.”