Independent Brake (The Dominion Falls Series) (13 page)

“Soon? It’s been five years. I made sure my parents were well ensconced in Denver before I came.” She leaned back against the building as he took his own turn. “I thought I should return home for a while.”

“That so? What about them Temperance ladies you got off the coach with?”

“I came with them. It remains to be seen if I leave with them.”

“You? With the temperance biddies?”

“In theory I agree with some of their points, not all. Plus, I was able to travel some of this country instead of being tied down to one city.” She shrugged. “I might have suggested this camp. What with all the saloons it had when I left.”

“Down to four now, mine’s still the busiest. And it’s a town now.”

“Really? My mother’s doing?” She knew her mother had wanted to incorporate Dominion Falls since they set up camp. No one had ever managed to organize enough to do as much.

“Nah. Pretty much everyone realized the train wouldn’t come unless they worked for it. Made a real government and everything.” He chuckled. “Lasted long enough to make the town, then fell apart.”

“Well, I should go get a room at the Silver Saddle.”

“Ya won’t like it there.”

“Why on earth would you say such a thing? You don’t know me, Cole.”

“Just a guess. Swing by the saloon for a drink later.” He winked. “If you want. I know you’re opposed to drinking and all.”

“I’m opposed to excess, not drinking.” She pushed off the glass and started toward the hotel. “As for drinking at your saloon, I suppose we’ll see.”

“Kathy.” He hadn’t moved when she turned around. Only his gaze had followed her. His sly grin returned. “Bein’ away did ya good. Lookin’ forward to my reward.”

“You’re presumptuous as ever.”

“And you ain’t fifteen no more.”

“I’m certainly not.” She turned away from his chuckle, not bothering to hide her own grin. Unfortunately, the moment she stepped into the hotel, her grin faded. Loathed as she was to admit it, Cole was right as rain.

To her right were gambling tables littered with a few men and some whores one might call high class. The bar stretched along the wall to her left, with cages along the back wall not unlike the bank windows she used to sit behind.

None of that was what bothered her, though. No, it was the overdone opulence and gilt the owner had thrown on every surface. Maybe he wanted to class the business up in this dirty little town to try to attract future train customers, but it was obscene.

Kat wrinkled her nose and considered turning around to leave, but made herself stand still. Only other place to stay was her sisters. She supposed she could pester Cole for a room, but she wouldn’t allow him another excuse to push for repayment—not yet, at least.

A man of moderate height with a styled black moustache approached. His suit was well cut and his cravat was held in place with a bright silver pin. The smarmy grin he wore made Kat itch to slap him before he even spoke. “May I help you?”

“I was hoping to get a room for a few nights.” If she decided to stay in town, she’d have to look for another place to stay. Between the extravagance and the man before her, she really didn’t want to stay here. “Do you have any available?”

The man looked her over and nodded. “I do. There’s a discounted rate for company if you wish it while you’re here.”

“I don’t.” She smiled pleasant as she could at the insinuation. While some of the women Patrick had brought home had suggested such a thing, she found herself with no desire toward women. This man’s assumption only lowered her already poor regard for him. “Just a room.”

“Certainly. I’m Guy Forrester. I’m the owner of this establishment. And you are?”

“Katherine Wells.” For the time being she’d use her assumed name. No reason to let this man know who she really was just yet. “I’ve arranged to have my bags brought here, and if you’ll show me my room, I’d like to freshen up after the ride in the stagecoach.”

“Certainly. Right this way, Miss Wells.”

Kat followed him to the room he offered, and closed the door in his face when he turned to offer her something else. First, she’d clean up, and then she’d get food. After that, the sky was the limit. At least until the ladies managed to corral her again.

For the next few days she’d stay in their good graces and make the requisite rounds to the saloons. At least until she could learn their plans and warn the appropriate saloon owner to prepare for a fight.

Then she would break ties and figure out what to do next. Whether it would be to remain in Dominion Falls or head to St. Louis, she didn’t know yet.

The openness of the possibilities ahead of her satisfied her enough.

* * * *

K
at emerged from the small saloon tent to take a deep breath of fresh air. Inside, her fellow ladies were continuing to pray for the sinners in their loudest voices, but they underestimated how strong the miners in the town drank. Most of the men ignored the women as nothing more than the pesky flies buzzing about them.

“Lookie here.” Cole sat atop a large horse, grinning down at her. “Maybe ya do drink after all.”

“My group is inside, praying for the sinners.” Kat tried, but was unable to keep the derisive tone from her voice. “I decided to get some fresh air.”

Cole hopped off his horse and started down the street toward his stables. If he’d expected her to follow, he was right. Only because she was glad for the excuse of an escape. “Can’t imagine they’ll be doin’ much at Tiny’s place.”

“Ah, but Tiny’s is an easy first target. It’s much easier to clear a small saloon tent than a larger saloon with whores to boot.” Kat kept stride beside him easily, her hands clasped in front of her. “Are you ready for company? I expect them to be at your place tomorrow. I believe they’re going to the Silver Saddle this afternoon.”

“Savin’ me for last?”

“Well, as you pointed out, yours is the busiest saloon in town.”

“So you started with this after Chicago, eh?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, it gave me an excuse to leave and travel. I do believe men should practice more temperance, and leave behind such excess enjoyment. However, I don’t believe in destroying the existence of alcohol. I enjoy some from time to time myself.”

“I thought you might.” He opened the gate to the corral and urged his horse to go through. Once it was closed, he turned to face her. “Care for one now?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, and even led the way to the front of his saloon. If any of the women questioned, she’d simply say she was talking to him in advance. After all, knowing the owner prior could create an influence they didn’t have.

“What d’ya like?”

“I doubt you have brandy, do you?”

“No. My customers prefer beer and whiskey, with an occasional call for gin.”

She sighed. “Shame. Fine, I’ll have whiskey.” Certainly Patrick had taught her the pleasures of whiskey, but she didn’t have to reveal all to Cole, he’d sure never do that with anyone else.

For the whole time Cole had been in Dominion Falls, no one ever knew much about him. Where he came from, or who he was. She could vaguely remember that he didn’t start out a blatant rake, but it hadn’t taken him long to fall into a role that appeared to suit him quite well.

Kat didn’t mind. Unlike her experience with Patrick, she’d learned to enjoy men’s company without forming friendships. This time would be no different, when and if she allowed it to happen. Then again, with the tingles that climbed up her arm when it brushed with his, maybe she would allow it.

He pushed open the door to the saloon. “Sorry ya gotta settle for whiskey.”

“You don’t sound in the least bit sorry.”

“That’s ‘cause I ain’t.”

She laughed and strode with him to the bar, taking a seat next to an older gentleman. “Just pour the whiskey and stop trying to charm me.”

“I don’t need charm.” Cole winked and set two glasses on the bar. “Hammy. Look who came back to Dominion Falls.”

When the man turned to face her, Kat almost fell out of her chair. She hadn’t recognized Gilbert Hamm at all at first. In the years since she’d left he’d gotten scruffier, if possible, and a goofy half-smile lit his features. “Well, I’ll be. Katherine Daugherty.”

“You can call me Kat now.” She set her hand on his shoulder. “Hammy, I am happy to see you again.”

Cole caught her glance, and nodded. “Ya know, you got to thank that fancy lady doc that you’re seein’ him at all.”

“I, what? Why?” Her grip on Hammy’s shoulder tightened. “What happened?”

“Doc says I had a stroke.” Hammy’s words were slightly slurred, and he spoke slow and deliberate. “I right near died.”

Cole nodded, his lips thin. “That lady doc saved him. Fixed him up real good. He’s still a rotten drunk, though.”

Kat laughed because she was supposed to, and because Hammy did, but couldn’t put much feeling behind it. “Well then I’ll have to thank her.”

“Eh. I already did. Got her checkin’ on my whores regular. Pretty much the only work that lady gets.” Cole poured their whiskey. “Now drink up.”

Without argument, Kat picked up her glass and tossed back the whiskey. The familiar burn down her throat, and warm after-shiver washed away her lingering melancholy. “Well, that’s good of you then, Cole.”

“Naw, it ain’t.” Cole’s wicked grin returned. “I like havin’ her around. Bet she’s gonna be a fun one in my bed one day.”

“What?” Kat scoffed. “You expect a woman doctor to come to your bed? One that’s married? How do you propose such a thing would happen?”

“I said you’d repay me one day, and here you are.”

“I’m not in your bed.”

“Yet.”

Kat quirked a brow and leaned her forearms on the bar. “There is no greater way to convince a woman to run far, then to be so sure she will run close.”

“You ain’t running.”

She pursed her lips and tossed back the fresh glass he’d poured her. Once she’d pushed it aside, she stood. “No, but I am walking. Thank you for the drink. How much do I owe you?”

“This one’s on me.” He winked.

“Adding it to my account?”

“Ya could say that.”

She turned her attention to Hammy. “It was good to see you again, Hammy. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“I’ll be ‘round.” Hammy raised his glass before he guzzled it down.

Kat had only just stepped on the porch when her sister tore out of the boarding house. Martha’s once rich brown hair had grayed even further making her appear almost older than their own mother.

While Kat had managed to avoid Martha so far, she had no doubt word had gotten around to the woman. In a small town like this, it took no time at all.

Martha stormed across the street toward Kat. “Katherine Marie Daugherty!”

“I go by Kat now, and you aren’t my mother, so I won’t take whatever scolding you have in mind.” Kat met her sister calm as could be. After the past five years, these days her sisters overbearing and uptight personality had little effect. After all, she’d faced worse foes—and she’d spent the past year in the company of equally repressed women. “I wonder what happened to you.”

Martha stopped short, her features paled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You were once uninhibited enough to cheat on a wonderful guy with an Indian, not to mention getting pregnant out of wedlock and eloping.” Kat sighed and shook her head. “Now you’re more repressed than my compatriots. Hard to believe I once thought you to be fun.”

“I...Katherine!”

“I told you, it’s Kat.” She turned her back on her sister and started down the boardwalk, leaving her sister in the muck of the street. Part of her worried Martha would report her presence in town to their parents, but she imagined Martha wanted to see them even less than she did.

* * * *

T
he leader of the Temperance group, Helen Bertrand, paced back and forth. By now Kat was familiar with the routine. Helen would get herself keyed up so that she might get the others keyed up to agree to the next step. She’d already loudly denounced Cole’s saloon as the worst of the bunch, which would make him a prime target.

At first Kat would argue until she was hoarse, but time had softened her arguments. Often instead, she’d merely protested, and then gone to the saloon Helen chose as prime target and attempt to warn the owner. Unfortunately she wasn’t always successful, many of the saloon owners dismissed her as an annoying, histrionic woman.

Because of that, many saloons had been left with hefty damages in the wake of the women in this room. Kat saw no promise in destroying a person’s livelihood. For where you destroy one, often two more would spring up in its place.

In the past few months she’d begun to believe with all honesty that Helen enjoyed reaching the point of violence. There was no sign of change now as, true to form, Helen quoted irrelevant scripture once again to boost her cause. “As it says in first Samuel, chapter fifteen, verse eighteen: ‘Go and utterly destroy the sinners...and fight against them until they are exterminated’.”

Kat bit her tongue to hide her sigh and one of her standard retorts of scripture. No amount of ‘judge not’ or ‘let he who is without sin’ ever made a lick of difference. She toyed with the teacup on her saucer for a few minutes before she realized every eye was on her. She frowned and straightened. “Yes?”

“No protest this time?” Lottie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That is your standard approach, is it not?”

“As women who are beaten by their husband would tell you, you can only take so much berating before you cave to it. No matter what I say, you’ll do as you please.” Kat rose to her feet. “And so I’m leaving. I came along in hopes of helping some men learn temperance, not to destroy the livelihood of dozens of men who have no other trade.”

“We have changed lives.” Helen held her bible close to her chest. “Sometimes it takes a strong hand to enforce such a thing.”

“No. What you have done is bullied and pressured. You’ve interrupted men while in the sauce and tried to speak reason to their drunken minds. Perhaps on purpose because you knew then they wouldn’t listen and you’d have an excuse to take up your hatchet.” Kat brushed past Helen. “I want no part of such destruction. I never did. This call to arms is not what I signed up for.”