Journey to Yesterday (8 page)

Alejandro wiped the remaining lather from his face with a
towel, which he then tossed on the chair. Pulling a dark blue shirt from the
second drawer, he slipped it on, tucked it into his pants, buckled on his
gunbelt, reached for his coat. “I’ll wait in the hall while you dress,” he
said, and then, catching sight of her shirt and shorts on the table, he shook
his head. “You can’t go out in those.”

“Well,” she said, tugging on the hem on his shirt, “I can’t
go out in this, either.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room.

She picked up the hair brush, wondering where he had gone
while she ran it through her hair, remembering how she had stood staring at him
while he shaved, watching like some idiot schoolgirl who had never seen a man
without a shirt before. In all fairness, she had to admit she had never seen a
man quite like this one before.

Putting the brush aside, she washed her face with the water
left in the pitcher. If she ever got back home, she would never again take
flush toilets and hot running water for granted.

He returned about ten minutes later. “Here,” he said, “this
should fit you.”

Shaye took the dress from his hand. It was a garish orange
and yellow stripe, with a low-cut bodice. “Where did you get this?”

A smile twitched his lips. “It belongs to one of the doves
over at the Queen.”

“I see.” Interesting, she mused, that wearing a prostitute’s
borrowed dress was more acceptable than her own shorts and shirt. She waited
for him to leave the room, then shook her head. “Would you mind waiting
outside?”

“Oh, right.”

She took off his flannel shirt and put it back in the
drawer, pulled her nightshirt over her head and put on her bra, grimacing when
she stepped into the panties she had worn the night before. She slipped the
dress on over her head and smoothed it over her hips. It fit her like a second
skin, revealing every curve, and more cleavage than she was comfortable with.
The only good thing about it was that it was long enough to hide her shoes.

She took a look in the mirror and shook her head. Even if he
hadn’t told her, she would have known where the dress came from. “People will
think
I’m
a hooker,” she muttered. “But at least my arms and legs are
covered up.”

Siting on the bed, she pulled on her Nikes and laced them
up. She started to reach for her backpack, then realized there was nothing in
it that would be of use to her here.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and left the room.

Alejandro was waiting for her in the corridor. His eyes
widened when he saw her. “Ready?”

“I guess so. And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.“Never mind,” she muttered,
“let’s go.”

On the street, men and women alike stared at Shaye. “I’ve
got to get a change of clothes,” she muttered.

“I’ll take you to the dry goods store after we eat,”
Alejandro offered.

“It won’t do any good. I don’t have any money.”

“I do.”

She started to refuse, then thought better of it. No one
would take her seriously or give her a job until she had some decent clothes to
wear. And he could afford it. She remembered the entries in Daisy’s diary where
it stated he had given Daisy a hundred dollars on two separate occasions.
“Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“Afraid to be beholden to me, are you?”

“I prefer to pay my own way.”

His gaze moved over her, hot and slow, like warm molasses.
“I can think of a way for you to repay me. Won’t cost you a cent.”

Shaye glared at him, wishing the offer wasn’t quite so
tempting.

Alejandro tipped his hat as a woman clad in a white shirtwaist,
green skirt and straw bonnet approached. The woman offered him her hand and he
bowed over it. “
Buenos Dias
, Miss Lottie.”

“Good morning to you, Alejandro.” The woman looked Shaye up
and down. “Who’s your friend?”

“Miss Lottie, this is Miss Shaye Montgomery. Shaye, this is
Lottie Johl.”

Lottie extended a gloved hand. “Any friend of Rio’s is a
friend of mine.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Johl,” Shaye replied. The
name rang a bell in the back of her mind.

“Will we see you at the Fourth of July dance, Rio?”

Alejandro smiled. “I’m afraid I’ll be working at the Queen
that night,” he replied.

“And I was so looking forward to dancing with you.”

“Another time,” Alejandro said gallantly.

“I’ll hold you to that, Rio. It was a pleasure to meet you,
Miss Montgomery.”

Shaye nodded. She glanced over her shoulder as the woman
swept past. “Lottie Johl…isn’t she a…never mind.”

Alejandro chuckled. “She was indeed, but she’s a respectable
woman now. She’s achieved some recognition as an artist.” He looked at her
speculatively. “How did you know?”

“I…um, someone mentioned it to me.”

“Uh huh. Well, here we are,” he said. Moving ahead of her,
he opened the restaurant door for her. Even at this early hour, the restaurant
was crowded. Harried-looking waitresses moved from table to table, taking
orders, refilling coffee cups, clearing away dirty dishes.

She felt more conspicuous in the gaudy dress than she had in
her tee shirt and shorts, but no one paid her any mind as she followed
Alejandro to a table near the window. A few of the men spoke to Alejandro.
Several of them smiled at her. Dressed as she was, they probably thought she
was a new saloon girl. Alejandro held her chair for her. Removing his hat, he
hung it from a hook on the wall, then took the seat across the table from her.

A young woman with a wealth of curly red hair, dark-green
eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks made a beeline for
their table, effectively cutting off another waitress headed in their
direction.

“Good morning, Rio,” she said brightly, “what’ll you be
having this fine day?”

“Ham and eggs and fried potatoes, Lily, my darlin’. And lots
of coffee, hot and black.”

Lily smiled expansively. “And you, miss?” she asked, though
her gaze was still on Alejandro.

“The same,” Shaye replied. She would have preferred a bowl
of cereal and a glass of orange juice, but she doubted if it was on the menu.
“Oh, and could I have decaf, please?”

Lily stared at her. “De-what?”

“De…never mind.”

Lily looked at Alejandro, shrugged, and left the table.

“What’s de-caf?” he asked.

“It’s a kind of coffee that’s popular where I come from.”

“In Los Angeles?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

Lily returned moments later with two cups of coffee. “If you
need anything else, Rio,” she said huskily, “just holler.”

Alejandro winked at Lily. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Shaye blew out an exasperated sigh. The man had enough charm
for a dozen men. If she could find a way to bottle it, she could probably make
a million dollars in no time at all.

“Why do people call you Rio?”

He shrugged. “An old friend of mine once remarked that I had
a temper as slow as the Rio Grande in summer and a draw faster than a flash
flood, and it stuck.”

“You don’t like it?”

Picking up his coffee cup, he grinned at her. “I’ve got more
important things to worry about than a silly name.”

“Like what?” She grimaced as she took a sip of her coffee.
It didn’t taste anything like what she was used to.

“Like whether Fred Syler will show up at the Queen tonight.”

Shaye added a generous amount of milk and sugar to her
coffee. “Why? You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

He laughed. “No, I’m not afraid of him, but he always brings
trouble with him. One of these days, he won’t back down, and I’ll have to kill
him.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I will if he doesn’t give me any other choice.”

She pondered that a moment, weighing the implications. “Have
you killed many men?”

“A few.”

She regarded him a moment. She had never known anyone who
had taken a life. “How many is a few?”

“Three.”

“You’ve killed three men?”

“Gambling’s a dangerous game, especially in a boom town. Too
many men. Too much booze. Not enough law.” He shrugged. “They were all fair
fights.” He grunted softly. “What’s the matter? I know they have guns in Los
Angeles. Don’t tell me no one ever gets shot.”

She had to laugh at that. You couldn’t pick up a newspaper
or turn on the TV without hearing about some nut who’d grabbed a pistol or an
assault weapon and gone on a rampage, killing innocent women and children, and
often killing themselves as well.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Not really.”

“Here you go, Rio, ham and eggs, just the way you like ‘em.”

“
Gracias
, Lily my darlin’.”

Shaye murmured her own thanks as Lily set a plate in front
of her, noticing as she did so that there were three extra slices of ham on
Alejandro’s plate, and two extra biscuits.

“Anything else I can get for you, Rio?” Lily asked.
“Anything at all?”

Alejandro held up his empty cup. “More coffee?”

“Coming right up. I just made a fresh pot.”

Alejandro looked at Shaye, one brow raised. “What’s wrong?”
he asked when Lily moved away from the table.

“Nothing. I’m just surprised she didn’t offer to feed you,
that’s all.”

A broad grin spread over his face. “You jealous?”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“Hey, can I help it if she likes me?”

“Likes you! That’s putting it mildly.”

Alejandro chuckled. She was mighty pretty when her color was
up. And even when it wasn’t. The borrowed dress outlined every curve. It was a
shame to cover up those long legs, he thought. Last night, he had dreamed of
having them wrapped around his waist.

With a sigh of exasperation, Shaye turned her attention to
her breakfast, which was surprisingly good. She refused to meet Alejandro’s
gaze, but she could feel him watching her, could just imagine the smug
expression on his handsome face.

Lily came by twice to refill his coffee cup, and once
apparently just to run her hand over his shoulder and give him a smile.

Shaye looked up when she finished eating to find him
watching her. “What?”

“Nothing. You ready to go?”

“Yes, if you can tear yourself away.”

He laughed as he stood up and reached for his hat. He
settled it on his head, then dropped a couple of silver dollars on the table.

Muttering under her breath, Shaye followed him out of the
restaurant. Why was she letting him get to her? What difference did it make if
women found him irresistible?

Or if he took advantage of it?

He took her arm as they threaded their way through the
crowded boardwalk. Men outnumbered the women about a hundred to one. Bodie was
quite a melting pot, she mused as she overheard men speaking Italian and
French, caught the sound of a heavy Irish brogue. She saw a slender Chinaman
dressed in baggy trousers pulling a cart filled with vegetables. Dust tickled
her nostrils, and she sneezed and sneezed again.

A huge wagon loaded with pipe and drawn by a team of six
tired-looking horses rumbled past, followed by a stagecoach, which raised even
more dust.

She stopped when he squeezed her arm.

“You should be able to find something to wear in here,”
Alejandro said.

Shaye glanced at the building. The words
Madame Sophie’s
Creations
were painted on the window in flowing white script over a bright
red rose. “This doesn’t look like the dry goods store,” she remarked.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wink. Opening the door, he
poked his head inside. “Hey, Sophie, give Shaye here anything she wants and
send me the bill.”

There was a muffled reply which Shaye assumed was assent.

“Sophie’ll take good care of you,” he said.

“Another admirer?” Shaye asked.

Alejandro grinned at her. “I can’t help it, darlin’. Can you
find your way back to the hotel?”

“I think so,” she replied curtly.

The sound of Alejandro’s laugher followed her as she stepped
into the shop. Annoyed, she slammed the door, which set the bell to ringing
violently.

A small, slender woman with orange hair and rouged cheeks
emerged from a curtained off area at the back of the shop.

“Something troubles you,
cherie
?” she remarked.
“Well, you have come to the right place. There is nothing like the new ensemble
to put the world to rights, no?” She beamed at Shaye. “I am Sophie. Welcome to
my salon.” Sophie looked her up and down. “
Cherie
, what is that you are
wearing?” She shook her head. “We must get you out of that
immediatement!
”

Sophie tapped a finger to her lips as she studied Shaye’s
measurements. “Giselle, bring me the striped taffeta skirt and matching
shirtwaist, the green crepe de chine, and the burgundy challis.”

Before she quite knew how it happened, Shaye found herself
in a dressing room, stripped to the skin.

Sophie held up Shaye’s bra, frowning. “Never have I seen
anything like this. Or these,” she said, pointing at Shaye’s Nikes.

“Well, they’re all the rage where I come from,” Shaye
replied.

With a shake of her head, Sophie dropped the bra on top of
Shaye’s dress.

Shaye had always wondered what women in the old West had
worn under their voluminous dresses, and she soon found out. A camisole, white
cotton stockings, pantaloons that tied just below the knee, a corset, a corset
cover, a bustle, an organdy petticoat and, lastly, a linen underskirt lined with
cotton. She lifted her arms as Madame Sophie dropped an overskirt of brown,
green and white striped taffeta over her head, then helped her into a long
sleeved blouse of the same material. It felt deliciously wicked against her
skin. A pair of brown kid half-boots completed the outfit.

Sophie stood back, her gaze critical. “Giselle, bring my
pins.”