Midnight Lover (12 page)

"You intend to stay?" Caroline asked in amazement. "Dear God, Jenny, they won't even allow you girls shelter. What on earth will you do?"

"We don't know," Jenny said bluntly. "Sarah's thinkin' of moving up to Virginia City but I still got hopes the men will come 'round and lose this marryin' fear."

Caroline chuckled and looked down at the money in her hands. "How often I wished my father would acquire this marrying fear. There seems to be no middle ground in this life, does there, Jenny? A man either keeps taking wife after wife to his bosom in search of the perfect spouse or he turns tail and runs each time a woman mentions matrimony."

Jenny's serious face lit with understanding. "Is that why you feel the way you do about taking the vows, Miss Caroline?"

"One reason among many. Truth to tell, Jenny, I doubt if there's many a man who would willingly take on a woman as set in my ways as I am."

"I seen the way men look at you, Miss Caroline. I doubt you'd have yourself a lick of trouble findin' a willing man."

"Willing and worthy are two different things. Usually those attributes are not found in the same man."

"I gotta admit you don't always make total sense to me, Miss Caroline, but I sure wish you and Abby were stayin' on a little longer."

Caroline sighed and patted Jenny's hand. She and Jenny were but four years apart in age, yet Caroline felt as if a lifetime of experience separated them. Unlike Caroline, Jenny had been raised in a household complete with a mother and a father, sisters and brothers, and a menagerie of dogs and cats all vying for love and attention. No matter what happened in Jenny Wilder's western adventure, a soft bed and warm food would always await her at home in Kansas and that's where Caroline was different from the rest of the women in Silver Spur. No soft bed and warm food awaited her for she had no home, no family, no one to care if she lived or died.

"I'm going to miss you and the girls, Jenny," said Caroline, tucking the money into the drawer of her nightstand and rising. "I do believe this has been the most interesting week of my life."

Jenny stood up and smoothed the front of her plain apron. "They're going to be real sorry I couldn't convince you to stay."

Caroline linked her arm through Jenny's. "It isn't your fault. How can I stay here when I have no means of supporting myself? I had believed this to be a thriving saloon but you can see the folly of that." She sighed as they headed down the stairs. "Why, in another two weeks I shall have completely run out of funds to pay Abby's wages."

"The other girls'll be mighty disappointed," Jenny repeated. "They were lookin' forward to living here at the Crazy Arrow until their weddings took place."

"I wish it could be otherwise, Jenny, but I could never make do with but six boarders and an establishment this size. Why, I—"

"Six boarders?" Jenny laughed. "There's more'n six waitin' to live here at the Arrow, Miss Caroline."

"More than six?" Caroline stopped dead in her tracks on the second floor landing. "Explain yourself."

"We been talkin' to a lot of gals like us down at Aunt Sally's and they'd sell their petticoats to live in a nice clean safe place like the Crazy Arrow."

Caroline was quiet for a moment then, "How many girls, Jenny?"

"Twelve countin' the hash slinger."

"Twelve girls plus our seven?"

"Twenty countin' you, Miss Caroline."

"Oh, my!" At two dollars per night, the possibilities were breathtaking but so were the pitfalls. "It could never work," she mused as they continued down the stairs to the main floor. "I haven't the linens or the mattresses for so many and Lord only knows how we would keep us all in hot water and soap. I would have to charge more than they do at the Last Stop."

"That wouldn't be unreasonable if you provided meals, Miss Caroline. I can speak for all of us when I say the food at Aunt Sally's ain't all it could be."

Once again Caroline was stopped in her tracks by the blunt truth of Jenny's statement. "Do you mean cook for everyone?"

"You can cook, can't you, Miss Caroline?"

"Well, of course I can," Caroline said. "I can make a fine split pea soup and a palatable veal stew but cook for so many? I doubt I even have the necessary pots and pans and dishes and—"

"We have our bridal ware with us."

"I draw the line at using your things, Jenny."

"Don't seem like there's any other way, does it?"

"I suppose there's always a bank loan to consider."

Jenny gasped. "The bank loan money to a woman?"

Caroline glared at the girl. "Is that too impossible a notion to even consider, Jenny?"

"Seems they won't even rent a room to a woman in Silver Spur, Miss Caroline. Somehow I can't imagine what they'd say if you were to ask for money."

"Well, no matter," said Caroline with a sigh of resignation. "It was a foolish idea anyway."

#

That foolish idea, however, lingered in Caroline's mind all day long and that evening when the others left for supper at Aunt Sally's, she sat down at a table with pen and paper and began to figure out exactly what she would need to begin such a venture.

It's only conjecture, she told herself, a game played to wile while away some extra hours. But the numbers she put down on paper were too tempting to dismiss.

"It's possible," she said aloud to the empty saloon, unlikely but still possible. If everything Jenny told her about the other twelve girls was true, she had a chance to make this idea work.

When she told Abby about her findings later that night, the outspoken young maid was silent as a tomb.

"Say something, Abby!" Caroline demanded, pacing the length of her bedroom suite. "You have as much at stake in this as I do. I certainly will not be angry if you decide to finish packing your trunks and depart on tomorrow's stagecoach."

"And if I go, I'll be goin' alone, is that it, miss?" the maid countered.

Caroline turned and faced the brown-haired girl. "Yes, you will, Abby. I haven't traveled all this way to give up without a fight. If there's a chance to make a success of the Crazy Arrow, I would be a coward if I turned away."

"This town is the devil's house incarnate," said Abby, crossing herself. "Gambling and drinking and—" Her cheeks turned a vivid shade of red. "My sainted mother would be spinnin' in her grave if she knew I had come to such a place."

Caroline had to laugh. "Your sainted mother would be quite surprised to hear of her demise, Abby. You can leave for Boston tomorrow with no hard feelings. I shall send you back with references and a full month's wages."

"You would be displeased with my work, Miss Caroline?"

"Of course not!"

"You be tired of my company?"

"How could I be when you are the only one I can speak frankly with?"

"You be lookin' to replace me with one of the Wilder girls?"

"Never."

"Then I'm staying, Miss Caroline, and it was so nice of you to be askin'."

Caroline's relief was boundless but she owed it to the girl to let her know what she would be facing. "We may fail yet, Abby. This venture comes with no guarantees."

Abby's shrug was eloquent. "I wouldn't be askin' for any, miss. Besides," she said with an impish grin, "I never was that fond of Boston myself."

"Abigail O'Brien," said Caroline, shaking the girl's freckled hand, "it looks like we're in business."

Chapte
r 7

"There!" Abby put the finishing touch to Caroline's upsweep of curls the next morning then stepped back to admire her handiwork. "You be lookin' like a breath of spring."

Caroline narrowed her eyes as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror hanging over the bar. The dress of jonquil yellow silk fit close to the bosom, waist and stomach, then flared out gracefully over a bustle much trimmer than the ones worn just a few short years ago. Her gloves had been carefully mended but those delicate stitches were invisible even to the most critical eye. "Mr. Worth would not believe where his creation has found itself," she said, fastening on her golden earbobs. How high her expectations had been a year ago when this dress arrived upon the Addisons' doorstep in Boston. She had been with Thomas and Emily just a few months, biding her time eagerly until that moment when Aaron said it was time to join him out west.

How she had dreamed about that day, conjuring up vivid images of cowboys and Indians and a future as wide open and free as the prairies that lay beyond the Mississippi.

Mr. Worth was kind enough to make this up from your last set of measurements, her father had written in the note she'd found tucked into the sleeve of her new dress. I pray you have not been indulging yourself in chocolates since last I saw you. Wear this when you arrive in Silver Spur and we'll show these simple people how it is done in Boston.

Well, she was in Silver Spur, wearing her beautiful jonquil yellow dress, but instead of triumphantly strolling the dirt street on her father's arm, she was preparing to ask the bank president for a loan.

"I am procrastinating," she said at last, turning from her reflection. "The stagecoach arrives at two o'clock and if I am to have the bank's agreement in my hands before then, I'd best be off."

"Mr. Reardon won't be takin' this kindly," said Abby, adjusting the drape of fabric across her bustle. "He expects the lot of us to be leavin' town before this day is over."

"Mr. Reardon is entirely too accustomed to getting what he wants." Caroline retrieved her fan, handkerchief, and tiny leather bag from atop the bar. "Perhaps it is time he learned that life isn't always that accommodating."

She opened the door and made her way down the rickety wooden steps, praying her fragile kid slippers would stand up against the splinters and nails.

"Mornin', Car-o-line." The unmistakable voice of Jesse Reardon sounded from the vicinity of the Golden Dragon. "Bags all packed and ready to go?"

He was lounging in the doorway, looking as if he had the world in the palm of his hand. Ah, yes, that was a man who'd found life to be quite accommodating. She had forgotten just how tall and lean and darkly handsome he was and she had to force her eyes away from the broad expanse of chest barely hidden by the thin cotton shirt.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Reardon," Caroline continued to walk toward the First Free Man's Bank at the opposite side of town. "Pleasant day, is it not?"

"Didn't answer my question, Car-o-line." He moved away from the door and leaned over the railing. "Stage'll be here before too long. Hope you got your things ready to go."

"Won't you be surprised, Mr. Reardon," she said under her breath, neatly avoiding a rut in the dirt road.

He vaulted the railing and caught up with her in three long strides.

"Where're you going?" he asked, his tone less playful.

"None of your business."

"Town isn't safe for someone like you. Men have a way of takin' what they want around here."

"I shall take your warning into consideration, Mr. Reardon."

"You got some plan up your sleeve?"

She said nothing. It took all of her concentration to withhold the triumphant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Ain't gonna work, Car-o-line."

She met his eyes. "You may be surprised."

"No man in this town would be caught dead buyin' whiskey from a citified gal like you."

"As I said, Mr. Reardon, you may be surprised."

"So that's the story, is it?" A wicked glint danced in his dark blue eyes. "Don't rightly know how Jade'll cotton to the competition."

"Jade?"

"The Golden Dragon."

"Your lack of moral fiber is quite pathetic, sir." She swept her skirts up and climbed the stairs to the bank. "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"It'll never work, Caroline," he said, laughing. "The Crazy Arrow Saloon is a losing proposition."

"Maybe so," she tossed over her shoulder, "but the Crazy Arrow Hotel isn't."

#

"Losing proposition," said Kevin Muldoon, president of the First Free Man's Bank, as he leaned back in his swivel chair and dabbed at the sweat on his brow with a square of white cambric. "You don't stand a chance at making it work, Miss Bennett."

The heat inside his small office was ghastly but Caroline refused to allow herself to perspire. If ever she needed to present a cool Bostonian image, this was the time.

"I can understand your apprehension, Mr. Muldoon, but perhaps you misunderstand my intent." Daintily she eased off her sparkling white gloves and laid them on her lap. "I am not interested in adding another saloon to Silver Spur's already impressive list. I am interested in opening a hotel."

"Got two hotels and a boarding house in town already." Muldoon's eyes were intent upon her late mother's onyx and diamond ring, and deliberately she brushed back a stray curl to provide him with a better look. He needn't know she would rather die than part with it. "Ones we got don't always get full-up as it is. Can't see where we need another."