SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (199 page)

Josie smiled and allowed her husband to lead her out of the dingy backroom.

Relieved to be away from their friendly inquisition, Taylor followed closely behind hoping to make a quick exit.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jackson was behind the bar busily cleaning the mirrors. She waved at him and hurried outside before he could speak to her. The strange conversation last night made her cautious about the seemingly congenial bartender. It was obvious that he was involved in some kind of devious plot, and logic and instinct told her she should stay as far away from him as possible.

Taylor stepped through the door to the street outside and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The day was alive with city noises that brought unfamiliar sounds to her ears. She stood for a moment to adjust. Instead of the mechanical sounds of cars and trolleys, she heard buggies creaking and horses neighing. The wooden boardwalk was crowded with men and women involved in their daily routines, with most too busy to notice her curious stares.

She stepped into the street, motivated by her now rumbling stomach. At least having won money at the Faro table, she figured she could afford a good meal and a clean bed. Crossing the busy street, she walked toward a café nestled between a bank and a hardware store.

As she stood in the doorway, Taylor heard the clatter of plates and cheerful laughter coming from the back of the room.

A high-pitched female voice called out, “Just sit anywhere you like and I’ll be right with you.”

Taylor chose a table in the far corner of the room. With her suitcase stowed and her hat hung on the back of the chair, she simultaneously caught the smell of strong coffee and the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bread. Suddenly she felt as though she hadn’t eaten in a week.

As Taylor looked around the room, she noticed a piece of butcher paper tacked on the wall that gave the morning fare
: Breakfast With Everything: 25 cents. Biscuits and gravy: 5 cents.
At least her twenty dollars would go further than she thought.

“What can I get for you?”

Taylor looked up and smiled at the young girl standing beside her table. Probably all of fourteen or so, the girl had the look of a young woman just beginning to blossom. Her waitress attire consisted of a white blouse, well worn, but clean, and an apron covering her plain blue, ankle length skirt.

“The biggest breakfast you can bring me—a full breakfast plus an order of biscuits and gravy,” Taylor answered, “and a regular coffee with Half and Half.”

“Half an’
what
?”

“Coffee with cream.” she corrected herself.

“Right away, sir.” The young girl hurried off to the kitchen, visibly pleased at her order.

Her stomach rumbling in response to the appetizing smells in the room, Taylor distracted herself by examining the other diners within the small café. She noticed a shabby-looking family of five sitting at a table near the door.

The mother was shushing two young boys who sat next to her while both wriggled in their chairs and teased each other. She was firm but loving in her approach, careful to not draw public attention to the scolding. The father seemed quite a bit older than his wife, and Taylor watched as he closed his eyes for a moment as if saying a silent prayer. His forehead wrinkled in a worried frown for just an instant. Then his eyes opened and he smiled at his family, reaching out to pat the primly-folded hands of his daughter.

The family’s clothes were covered with reddish-brown dust and they looked like they had been traveling a long time. Two suitcases and three tapestry satchels sat under their table. The family shared a single order of biscuits and gravy.

“They don’t have much money.”

Taylor gasped, then closed her eyes and listened anxiously for her father’s voice to continue. She heard nothing more. Just as she opened her eyes, the young waitress appeared with a mug of coffee and a small pitcher of cream.

“It’ll be just a little while for the meat to get hot,” she said, her voiced warmed by a friendly grin. “Here’s your coffee and cream.”

“The family by the door,” Taylor began, “would you bring each of them a full breakfast and add it to my bill?”

The young girl’s eyes widened in surprise and disbelief that a stranger would be ordering for the vagabond group. “That’s gonna be a dollar and fifty cents total,” she whispered, then glanced warily at the family.

“I know, I know. I can pay in advance. Here’s two dollars right now. And you can keep the change, okay?” Taylor watched in amusement as the girl’s mouth dropped open at her request. “And don’t say it’s from me.”

“But what will I say to them?”

“Well, I think they’re so hungry they probably won’t care. But if they make a fuss, why don’t you just say that they won their breakfast. Tell them the tables are numbered and theirs was this week’s winner. Try that.”

The young waitress’ eyes sparkled in delight, then she turned and hurried back to the kitchen. Before long, the girl reappeared with a woman from the kitchen, both carrying bowls and platters of food to serve the family.

Taylor observed the father’s meager protests, while the children ignored him and cheered. On the table before the group was a feast of huge, steaming biscuits, thick slices of ham, bowls of thick gravy, a gigantic platter of fried sliced potatoes, and a basket of fresh peaches. The waitress returned in a moment with silverware, plates, three glasses of milk, and two mugs of coffee for the mother and father.

Taylor covered her grin, trying not to give herself away by reacting to the heartwarming scene.

“That was perfect, Taylor.”

Thanks, Dad. And you would have done exactly the same.
Her own breakfast soon appeared before her and she ate with gusto, relishing every bite. She could feel her strength return as she replenished her body with the good, homemade food.

“More coffee, sir?”

“Definitely.” Taylor replied. “Excuse me, but could you recommend a hotel nearby? I need a place to stay for a few days.”

“Let me go ask my mother,” she answered. “I’ll be right back.” The young waitress dashed back to the kitchen, obviously pleased that the morning had turned out to be so profitable.

As Taylor watched the family finish the meal, she saw renewed hope in their faces. The mother and father smiled deeply at each other and happily watched the children eat their fill. The leftover fruit was carefully packed away in one of their traveling bags, and the oldest girl neatly stacked the dishes to make the table easier to clear.

Taylor looked up to see one of the staff observing the family from the doorway of the kitchen. The woman grinned, then smoothed her apron and made her way to the family’s table.

“Why, aren’t you sweet to make the table easier for us to clear. Thank you,” she said. “My name is Martha...Martha Reed. And I own this place. What might your name be?” She directed her gaze at the girl at the table.

“Annabelle Johnson, Ma’am, and this is my ma and pa and my brothers, Frank and John. We sure enjoyed your cookin’. Why, it’s just about as good as my pa’s!” When she realized what she said, Annabelle slapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

Mrs. Reed stifled a laugh, bringing her own hand to her mouth. When she seemed under control, she cleared her throat before she spoke. “Now, don’t worry dear. My feelings aren’t hurt a bit. In fact, I was just thinking I needed someone to help me do some of the cooking around here. I haven’t met too many cooks that were men except for trail cooks specializing in beans and wild meat, though. Do you bake, Mr. Johnson?”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes lit up as he answered, “Yes, in fact I have several specialties.”

“Oh, his cakes are exceptional and his dark, sweet bread was the talk of our town back home.” Mrs. Johnson eagerly interrupted her husband, unmistakably proud of his abilities, smiling broadly.

“Well, that sounds wonderful to me,” Martha continued. “Now, make this a perfect morning, Mrs. Johnson, and tell me you might be a woman talented in keeping numbers and such.”

“That I am. In fact, I had my own business back in Kansas, and handled the books for the general store
and
the restaurant where my husband worked. We moved out here for the climate, you see. John, our youngest, has the Asthma, and the doctors heard about the healing California Waters. So here we are.” Mrs. Johnson tousled young John’s hair playfully. “We’re making a brand new start today.”

“Well,” said Martha, “then I’m certainly glad we had this chance to meet. I propose that you both work for me—Mr. Johnson could be my baker and you, ma’am, could be my bookkeeper. Annabelle, you could help my Jane, if you want, with serving the café customers. I can’t pay much just yet, but I can give you room and board and three dollars a week to start. What do you say?”

Amazed at the optimistic turn of events for the family, Taylor watched as Mr. Johnson leapt to his feet and pumped Martha’s hand enthusiastically. Mrs. Johnson looked at her children in astonishment—then they too caught the excitement of the moment and broke into spontaneous applause.

“Now, gather your things and Jane will show you to your rooms upstairs. You all just have a good rest today, and then we’ll talk more at supper.” Martha watched the group as they followed her daughter, then she turned and approached Taylor’s table.

“And I have you to thank.”

Taylor was silent, unsure of the woman’s intention.

“Because you, sir, were kind enough to feed this family, they stayed long enough for me to see they were just what I needed. Thank you.” She smiled warmly at Taylor. “And Jane tells me you’re looking for a place to stay for a few days, is that right?”

“Can you recommend a hotel around here?”

“Most of them are full of land speculators, with the auctions being so popular and all. But, do this: when you leave, go left on Fifth Avenue and go down about four blocks. Turn right, go one block to Island and you’ll see the Gaslamp Quarter Hotel near the corner. It’s a two-story brick with a balcony on the second floor. Go around back and knock at the kitchen door and ask for Maylee. Tell her Martha Reed sent you, and she’ll find a room for you.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate your help,” Taylor said. “And I’m glad it worked out with that family. They seemed like they needed a chance.”

Martha nodded. “Things sure do have a way of changing when you least expect it,” she said, turning to return to her kitchen.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Taylor gathered her things. With suitcase in hand, she departed the café, determined to find the hotel Martha Reed had recommended.

Staggered by the hustle and bustle of the streets, Taylor dodged the constant flow of people streaming towards her. Catching her breath, she stopped in front of a store window filled with dresses, hats, and boots.

Having noticed more than a few curious looks from passersby on the street, she decided she needed to invest in some more normal looking clothing. She dismissed the picture in her mind of the reception her jeans and tee-shirt would surely get, realizing nothing in her suitcase was going to work here. Looking up at the shop’s sign, she read, “City of Paris.” Then she walked inside.

From behind the counter the proprietor looked up and greeted her. His puzzled stare confirmed that her appearance was just different enough to get a reaction. Hoping to diffuse any growing suspicions he might have, she headed for a display of men’s clothing.

Looking through a stack of clothing, she quickly chose a gray shirt and baggy black slacks.

“My sister asked me to pick something up for her,” she explained as she walked toward the ladies’ side of the shop, hoping to prevent any questions.

Before the man could voice any protest, several customers entered the store and distracted his attention away from her.

After a glance around the area, she chose a pair of black lace-up boots, a long turquoise-blue skirt, and an ecru lace blouse that buttoned up the front to a high collar.

Against the back wall, petticoats and corsets were displayed. Taylor looked again toward the shop keeper. After confirming he was still busy with other customers, she picked up one of the corsets. The material felt like strong, coarse cotton and had very stiff edges where the lacing ran. Extremely stiff wires were placed vertically along each panel. She imagined it would be pure torture to wear.

Then, next to the corsets were several strange looking devices—polished wood rings, hard rubber rings on leashes attached to waistbands, and steel springs with rubber cups at their coiled ends. Curious, she picked up a brochure that described the devices, called pessaries.

“If you are a corset wearer, you need uterine support. We recommend Dr. Morrell’s Uterine and Abdominal Supporter. Physicians advise the consistent use of a pelvic pessary to reposition the sagging uterus. Choose from many styles available. Most will not interfere with the act of coition.”

Taylor stared at the graphic drawings that explained how the devices were vaginally inserted to support a woman’s uterus. They looked truly painful.
Why would any woman wear such disgusting things?

Shifting her attention from pessaries to petticoats, Taylor chose an unadorned, ruffled cotton slip, then gathered her merchandise and looked for the proprietor.

Just as she found him, a familiar, handsome face appeared in the doorway.

Jackson Hoyt had entered the shop.

Forever Rose: Chapter Five

“Hello, Jackson, what can I help you with today” The shopkeeper greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake.

“Mornin’ Charlie, did my vest get here yet?”

“I think it did, but I’ll have to take a look.”

Jackson placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward to watch the shopkeeper head into the back room to check on his order.

Out of view behind a thick, rough-hewn post, Taylor took advantage of the opportunity to examine Jackson. Leaning against the counter, his long legs extended, he looked like a runner stretching for a race. With a shudder, she thought about the ominous conversation she’d overheard during the night, wishing there was no reason for suspicion.