Gold (12 page)

“
That lace what-do-you-call-it”—he flicked at the chemisette with his finger—”makes you look
like a lady schoolmarm.”

Her hand came up between her breasts.
“I’d be practically unclothed without it,” she said. She
pictured herself without the chemisette, the deep
V of her neckline revealing the paleness of her
skin against the soft green of the dress. Did she
dare?

Rhynne smiled at her as though he read her
thoughts.

“
Wait,” she told him. She walked around the
corner of the hotel and there slipped the arms of
the dress from her shoulders and pulled the
chemisette over her head. After rearranging the
dress, she came back and folded and laid the lace
on a table outside the door. She patted her hair
smooth.

“
All right?” she asked. Feeling his eyes on her breasts, she blushed but forced herself to stand
without flinching.

Rhynne held out his hand.
“Come with me,” he
said.
He led her across the room, past the bar and
the card tables to the piano. The men stopped to
stare after her. “Give me a flourish, if you please,
Ned,” Rhynne said to the piano player.

The room quieted except for two men quarrel
ing at the bar and, when someone shouted at
them, they too fell silent.

Selena wanted to turn and run. Trembling, she stood facing the roomful of men. There were so
many of them, drunken, sober, leering. Their
flushed faces, ranged around her, closing her in,
seemed to threaten her. Her head swam. When she
tried to breathe deeply she coughed from the
smoke.

Look at one of them, she told herself firmly, just one. You don
’t have to sing to all of them, only to one.

There, that one,

He stared at her from the far end of the bar
with adoration evident in his eyes. Wavy black
hair, a boyish clean-shaven face. He was young, probably her own age. He was not actually good-
looking, yet there was something about him that
attracted her, an innocence, a vulnerability that
made her want to please him. If only he wouldn’t
stare so! His eyes. Were they green? They must
be green.

If no one else liked her singing, she decided, he
would. She would sing to him and for him.

“
Do you know ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me?’”
Ned asked. Selena nodded.

Rhynne threw up his hand.
“Gentlemen,” he
shouted. “I give you—Selena.”

The pianist began to play and, standing stiffly
beside him, she sang to the black-haired, green-
eyed young man:

“I heard of California gold,
I thought I’d go and
try it,
And foolishly I left my home,
I surely can’t deny it.”

The black-haired youth frowned. Didn’t he like
her voice? Didn’t he like her? She faltered but
went on. He wasn’t watching her anymore, had
turned to the blond-bearded man beside him.
What was he doing now? He’d seized the blond
man by the throat and they were flailing at each other.

Abe tried to pull them apart. The boy swung at
Abe. Men pushed forward, shouting and craning their necks, trying to see what was going on. Ned
played louder, Selena stopped singing, tears in her
eyes. She saw Rhynne dart across the room to
ward the bar.

Rhynne stepped between the two fighting men,
grasping each by the arm and hustling them out the front door past the gun table. “Now then,” he
said once they were on the porch. “What’s this all about?”

They both tried to speak at once.

“One at a time. You first.” Rhynne nodded to
the youth. “I’ve never seen you around these parts
before. What’s your name, son?”

“
Danny O’Lee,” the boy said staunchly. “This
bastard here insulted her, he insulted the lass.
Selena.”

“
The mick’s a liar. I was paying her a compli
ment, governor, when all of a sudden this one’s at
my throat.”

“
You’re English Bob, aren’t you?” Rhynne
asked.

“
All the chaps call me that.”

“
Now listen to me,” Rhynne said. “I’m not
about to let myself get the reputation for running
a rowdy establishment. You can have a good time
at the Empire, yes. A bit of noise is all right, but
brawling, no. Men don’t buy spirits or play faro
when they’re fighting. I’ll decide the merits of this
quarrel or else both of you are through here. Ban
ished for good. Do you agree?”

“
That’s all right with me, mate,” English Bob
said.

Danny nodded.

“You first, O’Lee. Tell me what happened.”

“
Like I said, I was standing at the bar listening
to the young lady sing, thinking she’s singing to
me, she is, when this bloody Englishman says, ‘I’d
give two hundred dollars to get between the sheets
with that wench.’ So I says to him, ‘Take that
back,’ and he says to me, 'Take what back?’ and I
says, ‘What you just said,’ and he says, ‘Fuck
you.’ So I made a grab for him and that’s all there
is to it.”

“
English Bob?”

“
I thought we’d be hearing a bit of the blarney from this lad but that’s the size of it. I was complimenting the young lady on her charm like the
lad here says and for no reason at all he was at
my throat.”

“
Danny,” Rhynne said, “English Bob was pay
ing Selena a compliment. After his own fashion.
You owe him an apology.”

“
You’ll see me in hell first.”

“
Enough.” Rhynne’s voice became steel. “You
gave me your word, son. You’ll apologize.”

Danny met Rhynne
’s eyes and then his glance
fell away. “Sorry,” he said to English Bob.

“
That’s all right, bucko. No hard feelings.”
They shook hands and started for the door.

“
Just a minute,” Rhynne said, as English Bob
went back inside. “Listen to me. It’s not so much
a man’s words that count, it’s the meaning behind them. Learn the difference. I’ve been called a son of a bitch by a man who wanted me to know he
considered me his boon companion, and I’ve been
called a son of a bitch by a bastard who meant I
was a son of a bitch. To his way of thinking,
English Bob couldn’t have paid Selena a greater
compliment than saying he’d pay two hundred dol
lars for her.”

Rhynne, who had been reaching for the door
latch, suddenly stopped and stared straight ahead.

“
Are you all right?” Danny asked.

“
All right?” Rhynne smiled. “I’ve never been better. I just caught sight of an idea that glittered like gold. I fear that when money is mentioned, I
lose interest in most other matters. Ah, the music’s
started again. Inside with you, Danny O’Lee.”

Rhynne put his hand on Danny
’s shoulder and
together they reentered the Empire. The men,
crowding around the piano, had their backs to
them. Rhynne raised his eyebrows when he saw Selena perched on top of the piano with her skirts
drawn up to reveal her crossed ankles.

“
Another chorus,” English Bob called and Se
lena sang:

“
Hangtown gals are plump and rosy
Hair in ringlets, mighty cozy, Painted cheeks and jossy bonnets—
Touch ‘em and they’ll sting like hornets!”

The men joined in and when the song was over
they waved their hats and cheered.

Something struck Selena
’s shoulder. “What are
they throwing?” she asked Ned.

“
Gold. They’re throwing nuggets. Pick them
up.”

Selena looked down at the nuggets scattered on the floor.

“No,” she said, “no, I won’t. Abe will. Abe can
pick them up and give them to me later. I won’t
be seen on my hands and knees scrabbling for
money.”

The piano player shrugged.
“They want more,”
he said. “Which tune will it be?”

“
It won’t be any tune.” Rhynne stood beside
them. “Leave them unsatisfied,” he said. “Leave
them wanting more.”

Rhynne raised his arms toward her and Selena,
smiling and waving at the clamoring men, slid
from the piano. She took his arm and the miners cleared a path for them to the door. She walked close beside Rhynne, her heart thudding, repeat
ing over and over to herself, they like me, they
like me.

Selena woke much later, with a clanging in her ears. She sat up, her head awhirl from the singing and the
cheers of the men, reliving the elations she
had felt as she looked down into the admiring
faces from her perch on the piano.

That clanging. The fire bell! She threw off the
blankets and ran to the window. Drew aside the red calico curtain. The sky glowed orange. Fire!

With a sinking feeling she recalled Varner
’s
threats to burn the Empire.

“
Mother, mother,” she cried, shaking Pamela.
Her mother groaned in her sleep. She shook her
until Pamela sat up.

“
Get up, get up,” Selena said. “The Empire’s on
fire!”

Selena threw a robe over her nightgown, pulled
a shawl around her shoulders. Behind her Pamela
was sleepily getting out of bed. Selena ran out into
the night and up the path leading to the hotel.
Shouting men ran past her. She heard the crackle
of flames.

When she reached the top of the first rise she
realized something was wrong, not the way she
thought it would be. The flames came not from ahead but from off to her right. Not the Empire!
She ran on. No, not the Empire—the hotel stood
dark against the sky.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she slowed, following
the men hurrying along the street. Flames shot
skyward from a building ahead of her. The
church? The stable? Not the church, for there was
the cross at the peak of the roof. Not the stable either; the stable was farther on.

“
It’s Varner’s,” a voice next to her shouted.

She left the road and climbed to the top of a
rise from which she could look down at the burn
ing building. It was Varner’s. The log grocery
was engulfed in flames. Men had formed two long
lines on the street and were passing buckets from
hand to hand, throwing the water on the nearby
cabins and the church. It was too late to save
Varner’s.

Selena noticed a figure in the shadows near her.
A familiar figure. Rhynne. She walked to him,
seeing his eyes flick toward her then return to the
blaze. The firelight gave his face an unearthly appearance.

“
Rhynne?” she said tentatively.

“
Did I congratulate you on your triumph to
night?” he asked, still not looking at her.

“
No,” she said in a hushed voice.

“
You deserve to be congratulated. We both
do.” For the first time he looked down at her.
“You’d think,” he mused, “worried as Varner was
about fire, he’d have taken greater precautions.”

She felt a shiver of fear.

Rhynne leaned down and kissed her on the
mouth. His lips were cold on hers, without pas
sion. She shrank away, then turned and ran. When
she paused, out of breath, to look back, Rhynne
was again staring down at the flames. She couldn’t he sure but she thought she saw him smile.