Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) (18 page)

The man’s eyes turned murderous. “Mind your own business, mister.”

“Tell you what,” Dalton replied as he came to his feet. “You stop talking about the American Songbird and I’ll start minding my own business.”

Chairs scraped across the wooden floor as all three men rose to their feet. Dalton’s fingers twitched near the barrels of his guns, but he kept a rein on his temper. He couldn’t kill three men just for admiring Marlena’s beauty.

“Don’t see nothin’ wrong with wanting to milk a young pair of titties,” the second man said.

All right, maybe I could
.

Dalton whipped his guns up faster than a man could blink and fired at the ceiling, hitting the chain holding up the chandelier. Just as the men pulled their guns clear of their holsters, the heavy brass load landed atop them, sending men and metal to the floor. Pistols slid across the planks and Dalton made short work of kicking them out of arm’s reach as he holstered his own weapons.

As soon as his hand left his gun it balled into a fist and plunged into the left eye of an approaching brawler. More men ran at him and he sent his fists into their flesh. First a gut, then a mouth. His fists windmilled until he was finally knocked to the floor. He felt the man’s knuckles land on the bone above his eye and a blinding pain soared through the socket. He ignored it and shot to his feet again, ready for the next toss.

Blood surged through him, fueled by his anger, his pain, and his fists curled again. Every sink of his knuckles into another man’s flesh was a release, a flood of emotion leaving him. It was better than alcohol, better than tears, better than any other method he’d used to drown out the raw, cutting pain of losing Marlena.

Other men joined the fight, and Dalton smirked, ready for them. He wrestled and punched until his hands bled and his eyes swelled shut, but the fight didn’t completely end until the bartender blew a hole through the roof with a shotgun. All activity ceased and the men were exhausted and weak enough to appear grateful for it.

“You men owe me a chandelier,” the bartender said.

“I’ll pay for it,” Dalton said with a shrug. He had nothing else to do with his savings anymore anyway.

Chapter 18

Marlena hugged Heath and Barrett to her sides as they rattled along in the carriage. Jess sat across from them, a bundle of clothing on the seat beside her. The boys had warmed to Marlena during the prior evening and hadn’t left her side once since she’d come down the stairs in the morning. When Jess told her of their errand for the day, they begged her to come along, and she wouldn’t have missed it for anything. She smiled warmly at her sister.

“I think it’s so wonderful that you do this,” she said.

“Children grow so fast and Heath and Barrett have no use for these clothes anymore. They might as well go to others, and the children at the orphanage need all the contributions they can get.”

“I’m happy Emily Stacey finally got her wish.”

Jess frowned. “What do you mean?”

Marlena scowled playfully. “Don’t you remember? All she wanted was to be surrounded by a house full of children she could love.”

A smile split her sister’s face. “I’d forgotten that. I’m not surprised you remember, though. You always seem to recall the best things about a person. It has always been one of my favorite traits of yours.”

A surge of warmth rushed to her cheeks as the carriage stopped. Barrett and Heath didn’t wait for their mother’s instructions but leapt out of the cubicle and ran into the brick building, calling out names of friends as they went. Marlena took the bag from Jess and helped her down the steps. Before they made it to the front door, Emily Stacey emerged looking far more mature and beautiful than she had the last time Marlena saw her six years ago.

She’d been seventeen and was a prisoner in the home of her wealthy and controlling father. Leonard Stacy had showered her with every material thing under the sun, but deprived her of the one thing she truly craved. Love. His thirst for power ultimately led to his demise and he’d been imprisoned at Leavensworth ever since. Emily had been granted a living stipend but chose to leave her father’s home and dedicate her time and affection to the local orphanage. Not only did she adore the children, but she felt responsible for them since it was in her father’s mines that the boys and girls had lost their fathers. Most of the mothers had succumbed to disease and other maladies of the hard life of the west.

Jess had filled Marlena in with all of the details on the way up from Gold Hill and she’d welcomed the distraction from her thoughts of Dalton. He’d said he needed to speak with her but had told her nothing of note. As she thought back on the exchange, she realized she hadn’t given him much opportunity to speak before Harrison and Sarah had arrived. Though his presence lit the fuse to a dozen emotions, finding him hanging from a tree limb outside her window kept her curiosity alive. But if anything could overcome thoughts of Dalton, it was spending the day in the presence of children.

“Jess!” Emily greeted cheerfully before wrapping her in a hug. Next, she turned to Marlena and greeted her in kind. “I can’t believe how you’ve grown. Your sister always tells me all your news when she visits so I am thrilled to congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Thank you,” Marlena said, clasping the woman’s hands. “Emily, you look radiant. It warms my heart to see you so happy.”

Emily squeezed her hands and pulled her toward the two-story building. Marlena thought the structure was large until she went inside to be completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of children living there. The first floor sat in an open floorplan with cots lining the perimeter and forming two back-to-back rows in the middle. Children ran around in varying degrees of play, their clothes bearing up surprisingly well, Marlena thought. There were several boys and girls in garments either a little too large or a little too small and she saw very few tears and holes. Emily had her hands full tending such a flock, and she accomplished it well. Marlena’s respect and admiration grew in an instant.   

Several young girls stood staring in awe at Marlena’s fine gown. She sank to the floor and motioned for the girls to draw near.

“Would you like to touch it?” she waved to the scalloped silk hem. The girls nodded and Marlena encouraged them to stroke the fabric.

They did so and erupted into a fit of giggles, which drew other young girls. Marlena noticed one who kept tripping over the length of her skirts as they dragged on the ground.

“Well, that won’t do,” Marlena said to the girl. “We don’t want you stumbling all over town, do we? Emily do you have a mending kit?”

Emily nodded and retrieved it for Marlena. “I’m afraid I’m not as good as you,” Emily said. “And I haven’t had a chance to mend them all. It seems as though once I get them all fitted, someone grows that much more and I start the cycle again.”

Marlena frowned at the self-chastisement she heard in Emily’s voice. “You’re one woman, Emily Stacey, and a hell of a good one at that. But you can’t do it all. Now, hand over that sewing kit so I can hem this poor girl’s gown.”

Emily blushed, smiled, and handed over the sewing kit as she addressed the girls. “Do you know who this lady is?” They shook their heads, so Emily knelt down and widened her eyes in excitement. “Ever heard the name Ruby, the American Songbird?”

A round of gasps sucked the air out of the room and Marlena watched the young doe eyes turn dreamy. A pang of nostalgia moved through her as she remembered the almost worshipful adoration she once had for Sarah Jeanne. The woman’s nature soon destroyed the notion, and had almost destroyed Marlena’s love for music. if not for The Museum and Dalton she would have likely hated music forever.

Determined to be a better model, she threaded the needle and began to sing as she stitched. One by one children streamed her way until every single occupant of the building sat around for their private concert. When the song finished, the children burst into praise and applause. Barrett and Heath jumped up and down to claim Marlena as their aunt. Song titles flew out of mouths, requests and stories about songs that meant the world to the children, songs their mothers and fathers would sing. Marlena did her best to accommodate them all, stitching clothing as she went.

“You have the most beautiful voice,” a little girl told her. “I hope I can sing like you one day.”

Marlena reached out to brush a finger along the girl’s cheek. “There’s no reason you can’t sing like me now. What’s your favorite song?”

“Beautiful Dreamer.”

“Ah,” she said with a grin. “That’s mine, too. Shall we sing it together?”

The girl nodded eagerly, sitting forward on her knees to be eye level with Marlena. They sang together and the girl’s voice was soft and timid at first. Marlena nodded her encouragement and the girl grew more confident. To Marlena’s surprise and delight, the girl had no trouble staying on key, and that is something that is very difficult to teach. Her voice had a quiet, lyrical vibrato she could be taught to control. She made the common mistake of using her lungs to project instead of her diaphragm, but again, that could be taught as well. She showed great promise and Marlena’s smile was wide and genuine when they finished.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Six.”

A deep breath filled Marlena’s lungs. She remembered the age very clearly, living in a place not much unlike Virginia City. Motherless. Fatherless. Holding onto the only beautiful thing she had: Music. But this girl was one of many in the same state, and though she had a wonderful caretaker in Emily, she’d likely never have the opportunity to realize her potential, and the thought burdened Marlena’s heart. She grabbed the girl’s hands and pulled her until she sat on Marlena’s lap.

“You have a very beautiful voice,” she told her. “Would you like a music lesson from me?”

The girl’s head bobbed up and down.

“When you sing you are filling your lungs with air, but to really project, to make your voice swell and soar, you must use your belly.”

“My belly?”

“Mm hmm.” Marlena pressed on the girl’s diaphragm. “Right here. This is a very important muscle when singing. Do you know how our muscles become strong? By working them.”

“How can I work my belly?”

“I’ll tell you how. Lie down on this cot.” The girl obeyed and Marlena grabbed a book from a nearby shelf and set it on the girl’s diaphragm. “Now, take a deep breath and when you breathe in, try to lift the book. If you can do that, then you are filling your belly with air instead of your lungs. The object is to raise the book. Let’s see you try.”

A look of pure concentration tightened the girl’s features and her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she filled her body with air. Her chest rose, but the book did not. When she breathed out, her face looked as deflated as her lungs were. Marlena encouraged her to try again. After five attempts, the girl was able to concentrate her air to her stomach. She sat up with wide, excited eyes and Marlena applauded.

“Now, keep practicing and the next time you sing, be sure to gather the air to your belly, then use that muscle to push the air behind your words.”

“I will practice,” she promised. “Will you come back tomorrow and show me some more?”

Marlena pressed her lips together sadly. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to come back tomorrow. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ll be back at all. I’ve only a month in the city and then I’m moving on.”

Disappointment and sorrow scraped all of the excitement from the girl’s face and she set the book on the cot and rose. “Thank you, Miss Ruby. I really appreciate it.” She strode off with such a dejected and defeated look, and Marlena wanted to tear her eyes out so she’d never see such a heartbreaking sight again.

“Wait!” Marlena called. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.” The girl’s smile returned before she ran off to play.

Jess asked Marlena if she was ready to depart and she nodded, forcing herself to her feet and sweeping one sympathetic gaze about the building before exiting.

The boys climbed into the carriage first, followed by Jess. As Marlena grabbed hold of the side to climb up, Barrett’s voice squealed at her.

“What’s this?” He held up a folded note and Jess grabbed it.

“It’s addressed to you,” she said before addressing the driver. “Stewart, did you see who put this letter in the carriage?”

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “I went on a walk a little while back but I’ve not seen anyone approach before or since.”

Marlena opened the note and felt a wave of red, hot fury well inside her.

If music be the food of love, play on!

She caught a movement from her peripheral vision and turned to watch a man walking down the street away from the orphanage at a brisk pace. He wore a long coat and hat, but one thing gave away his identity. Indigo trotted alongside him.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Jess, and ran up the road, calling his name when she was close enough.

Dalton turned and all anger flew from her at the swollen purpling of his eye. “What happened to you?”

She reached out to touch his face and he stepped back, out of her reach. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Her hand dropped to her side and she swallowed the pain of his words. He was right. The concern of his health and well-being belonged to someone else, the woman he’d chosen over her. And her care and concern belonged to someone else, the man she’d chosen over him. Knowing it, however, did nothing to rid her heart of worry or relieve the tightening of her chest at the deep sadness pulsing from his eyes. It radiated from him, feeling as real and tangible as her own.

“Are you all right, Dalton?” she asked and he snorted.

“If you’re talking about my eye, yeah. I’m fine.”

She took a deep swallow. “And if I’m not talking about your eye?”

He laughed coldly and looked away before clearing his throat and returning to her gaze. “That’s mighty fine of you, spending time with the orphans.” He nodded toward the building.

“Thank you. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s more than others do. And it doesn’t surprise me to find you here. You’ve the best heart of anyone I know.”

She allowed the change of subject, and the flush of warmth that moved through her at his compliment. Being near him was such sweet torture. A cord of heat stretched between them, familiar and intense, and the traitorous longing of her body was to draw close to him, feel the gentle press of his lips, the solid feel of his form wrapping around hers. She almost gave into it, until her heart filled with bitter memories and reminders of the way he’d broken it.

Yet every fiber in her being told her he had more to say.

“Dalton, why did you come here today? If you have something to say to me, don’t leave it in a note. Tell me.”

His eyes bore into hers searchingly and for the first time in a year, a flutter of hope moved deep in her belly. His feelings were anything but resolved and she wondered if his marriage to Rosa had ended. She held her breath, waiting to hear him speak, but he only ruffled through his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Here’s the eighty dollars I owe you for the dress.”

She took it without a word. That was all he had to say? He spun on his heel, leaving her standing in the middle of the road with a wad of money, a quote from Shakespeare, and a still-very-broken heart.