September's Dream (12 page)

*  *  *

September made her way upstairs. Snake had insisted that she use his room between acts. He hadn’t exaggerated the comfort. As she closed the door, she slipped off her high-top shoes and wiggled her toes, then walked to the fireplace. A fire crackled invitingly. An upholstered chair had been positioned in front of the fire. Over the arm lay a blanket. At her feet was a footstool. Maybe she was being too hard on Snake, always thinking the worst of him. It was nice of him to provide a place for her to rest between acts. She stretched out comfortably, then snuggling deep into the cushions, leaned her head back and dozed.

*  *  *

Each time September finished her songs, Jase told himself that it was time to leave. And each time he found an excuse to stay for one more act.

Rawlins’ latest scheme for making money fascinated Jase. After each act, Rawlins’ women leaped into the boxes with the wealthy miners and began ordering bottles of champagne. One of them was even bold enough to order a box of cigars for the man she had just met. Jase wondered how Snake would handle the commotion when all these men found out how much they’d been fooled into spending for the evening.

September sang her last songs of the night. She was relieved when she could acknowledge the applause and step from the stage. Wearily trudging up the stairs, she retrieved her shawl from Snake’s room and headed downstairs toward the swinging doors.

Seeing her descent, Jase felt a rush of relief. She didn’t sleep upstairs, with all the others. Quickly, he emptied his glass and strolled casually toward the door. Outside, he glanced right, then left, before spotting her melting into the darkness.

He swore. What kind of fool was Snake Rawlins, to allow her to go home alone? Just the sight of her could incite a riot, and here she was walking unaccompanied in the darkness, without protection of any kind. She must not have a single brain in that pretty head.

He opened his parka and touched the gun at his waist. There was no harm in following her. At least he’d know she was safe.

When the outline of Aggie Whelan’s darkened boardinghouse loomed in the blackness, Jase watched as a slender figure made her way across the porch and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, he saw the flickering light of a lantern in the corner room. Only then did his hand move from the gun at his waist and relax at his side.

Leaning a hip against the trunk of a tree, he pulled a pouch from his pocket and tapped some tobacco into a paper. Expertly rolling the cigarette, he ran a match over the rough bark, held the flame to the tip, then inhaled deeply. As the wreath of rich smoke dissipated into the night air, he watched until the light in her room was extinguished.

He walked slowly back to the saloon and retrieved his horse. On the long ride back to his cabin, he would have a warm, vibrant companion to keep him company. Her image played in his mind. She would be asleep by now, her features relaxed, that silver cloud of hair spilled over a pillow. The Velvet Voice. Her deep, rich tones taunted him on the silent night air.

*  *  *

Thin sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains of September’s room. Curled into a fetal position, she snuggled into the circle of warmth. Over the sound of her own breathing, she heard the sound of deeper, steady panting. Sitting up abruptly, she stared at the huge mound of fur on the blanket in the corner of the room.

"Hello, Lucky," she called, bounding out of bed.

She crossed the room and knelt beside the dog. Running her hand along the length of him, she examined the cuts and ragged pieces of flesh and fur. He opened his eyes and watched her, without making a sound.

At her touch he froze, not moving, not even seeming to breathe, until he sensed her intentions. As she continued to probe with gentle fingers, the dog relaxed slightly, unresisting, but still watching her.

"You’re healing," she murmured.

The dog’s ears lifted, remembering this strange, female voice which had pierced his consciousness during the height of his beating.

"Come on, boy. Can you get up?"

She stood, clapping her hands softly. With a great effort, the dog forced himself to stand and walked stiffly toward her.

"Oh, thank heavens. I wondered if your legs had been broken." She buried her face in his neck. She found that she didn’t even have to bend to pet him. His head reached higher than her waist. Stretched end to end, he would be much taller than September and would outweigh her by a few pounds.

"You’re beautiful," she breathed, kneeling down and staring into those unusual ghostly eyes. "And you’re mine. No man will ever lay a hand on you again."

The dog watched her eyes as she spoke, as if he understood every word. The scent of her became locked firmly in his memory.

"As soon as I’ve dressed, you and I will take a walk. Then I’ll have to sneak you some food and figure out how to keep your presence a secret from Aggie."

The last proved easier than she expected. Aggie took to her bed with a fever which lasted three days. Although the extra burden of chores fell to Billy and September, they had earned a brief reprieve.

"So far, fellow," she muttered later, dropping her arm around the big dog’s neck, "you’ve certainly lived up to your name."

*  *  *

All day, as September went about her chores, she thought about the money Snake owed her. Tonight, she would collect her first pay. She would be one hundred fifty dollars closer to her goal.

When she arrived at the saloon, Snake greeted her more warmly than usual.

"I’ve got a surprise for you, kid. How’d you like a midnight supper, after you’ve finished singing for the night?"

"That’s nice of you, Snake. But I’ll probably be too tired to eat. I think I’ll just collect my pay and head home."

"Where’s home?"

"Nowhere special," she hedged. Her instincts told her not to tell Snake too much about her personal life.

"I’ve got a little business proposition to offer you over dinner."

"Business? Why not just tell me now?"

He smiled, causing a little tremor of fear at the base of her spine. "I talk better over a good meal."

She sighed. "All right. Where will we go?"

"Up in my room. We have a good cook here who sees to all our meals. I’ve already told her what I want." He glanced at the door as a group of noisy miners entered. "We’ll talk later."

September watched as he strolled away. The last thing she wanted was dinner with Snake. But she was eager to get paid. And she was curious to hear his business proposition.

There was no time to ponder what he had planned. It was time to start the evening’s entertainment. As she glanced around the crowded room, she saw a number of new faces. Another boat must have arrived. Another load of eager treasure seekers. Or, she thought, seeing the bleak look on the faces of some of the defeated men, another boatload of shattered dreams.

*  *  *

Jase stood in the crowd and felt the warmth of that rich voice wash over him. For a little while he forgot the hard work, the pain, the things which drove him, and lost himself in the dreams she wove.

When the Velvet Voice finished her last song of the evening, he refused another drink, intending to follow her home again tonight. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction to know that he was looking out for her welfare, even though she wasn’t aware of it.

*  *  *

When she finished her last act and made her way upstairs, September was surprised to find a fancy table in Snake’s room, positioned before a blazing fire. On an embroidered linen cloth were set fine china and crystal. In a round urn, a bottle of champagne was chilling over ice.

Snake entered from an adjoining dressing room. He had changed into a wine-colored velvet jacket. His black hair glistened in the light of a half dozen candles.

"They were a good crowd tonight."

She forced a smile. "Yes."

"Sit down," he said, holding a chair.

When she was seated, he took the bottle of champagne from the urn and opened it. Filling two glasses, he said, "Here’s to the Velvet Voice."

Carefully, September sipped, remembering how the whiskey had burned her throat, the night the stranger had saved her from the drunken miner. This was different. It didn’t burn, but the bubbles tickled her nose.

"You like it?" His eyes were watchful across the table.

"Yes." She laughed, that rich, warm sound of innocent happiness.

At a knock on the door, Snake opened it to admit a small, thin woman carrying a heavy tray. Behind her, a girl of about ten carried a second, smaller tray.

While the woman served the table, the girl placed the small tray on a sideboard, then waited until her mother was finished.

The plates were heaped with enormous slabs of beef, accompanied by small, whole potatoes and thick, brown gravy. A loaf of hard-crusted bread, warm from the oven, was sliced and placed in the center of the table, along with a plate of creamy, freshly churned butter.

"Coffee and desserts are on the sideboard, Mr. Rawlins. Do you want me to stay to serve?"

"No, Theresa. Thank you."

When the door closed behind them, he sipped his champagne and smiled across the table at September.

"I can’t eat all this, Snake."

"Sure you can, kid. You don’t see food like this every day in Skagway."

"No." She thought of how hungry she had been on the boat, and that reminded her of Deke Kenyon. He had tried to charm her with his cozy room and food right from the captain’s own table.

The thought caused a lump in her throat which she thought would choke her.

"It looks really good, Snake. But I had a big dinner before I came here tonight."

"That was hours ago. Relax, September. Enjoy."

She lifted the fork to her lips and tasted the tender beef. Snake tucked into his meal with relish, washing it down with several glasses of bubbly champagne.

When he was finished, he watched as she moved the food around her plate.

"Would you like some dessert? It’s Theresa’s specialty. Chocolate layer cake, with cream filling and real strawberries."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. But you go ahead, Snake."

"Coffee?"

She nodded. "Yes, please."

As he filled her cup, he glanced down at her. "Your hair smells good."

She stiffened. "Thank you."

With his thumb and finger under her chin, he tilted her face upward.

Fear became a razor, slicing through her nerves.

"You and I are becoming quite a team, September Malloy. If we play our cards right, we could own this town."

"I don’t want to own Skagway, Snake. I just want to find my father." She jerked her face away and reached for the cup of coffee.

"I like you, kid."

She avoided his eyes. "Thank you."

"Are you always so damned polite?"

"What?" She clattered her cup on her saucer and watched him.

"Polite." He strode angrily to the fireplace, where he held a flaming torch to his cigar. He turned. In the light of the fire, the scar along the side of his face stood out in relief. His thin lips twisted cruelly. "Polite and proper. Didn’t it ever occur to you to flirt a little with those men down there? Do you know how much money you could earn if you’d just smile a little? And what about those boxes? Haven’t you figured out that by leaping into one of those boxes after you sing you could get those hungry old boys to spend a fortune just to keep you there?"

His outburst left her stunned. She continued staring at him for long, silent moments.

"You didn’t tell me you wanted me to cheat those miners."

"Who said anything about cheating? I just want you to keep them happy."

"But we both know the money you’re charging them for those bottles of champagne is probably twice what they’re worth. The poor men are so blinded by your women, they don’t know what they’re doing."

"Good. Let’s keep it that way, kid. Now, what I want from you is to start stringing them along. Annie will show you how to do it."

Very deliberately, September stood up, keeping the table between them. Her voice lowered in defiance. "I told you before, Snake. I’m not one of your women. I’ll stand on stage and say the words to the songs, but I won’t jump into those boxes afterward and cheat those poor miners."

Snake’s gray eyes glittered like opaque stones. The light in them seemed extinguished. "When you work for Snake Rawlins, you learn to take orders. I’m not running a church social here."

"Then I won’t work for you, Snake." She held out her hand. "You owe me one hundred and fifty dollars. I’ll take it now."

He drew on his cigar, then watched the cloud of smoke curl above his head. His sinister smile caused her heart to lurch.

"I thought I’d keep your money here at the saloon. I have a safe that’s thief-proof. Your money’s a lot safer here with me than it is in your pocket."

She forced her voice to remain calm. "I’ll take my chances."

He stared at her outstretched hand. Shrugging, he walked to the dressing room and opened the safe, then returned carrying a handful of bills.

"It wouldn’t hurt you to flirt with me as well. A smile can get you a lot of rewards in this business, September."

She stared at him in stony silence.

He shrugged. "There are a few expenses I’ll have to deduct from your pay."

"Expenses? What expenses?"

He smiled, and ran a finger along his mustache. "First, there’s the cost of that dress."

"I made this dress."

"Correction. You made it over. It used to be one of ours. Now that you’ve altered it, you have to admit, it wouldn’t fit any of my other girls."

Her lips thinned. "How much?"

"That gown came from San Francisco. There’s not only the cost of the dress, but the shipping costs to get it here."

"How much, Snake?"

He paused. "Twenty-five dollars."

September’s heart dropped. She held out her hand. "All right. Give me one hundred twenty-five dollars."

"Well now. There’s also the matter of my piano player."

"Blackie? What about him?"

"He had to learn a whole lot of new songs just to accommodate you. I had to pay him extra."

"That’s your business, Snake. That has nothing to do with me."

His voice lowered conspiratorially. "I’d advise you to keep Blackie happy. Otherwise, you might find yourself singing all alone out there tomorrow."

"How much?" she asked wearily.

"I think ten dollars ought to do it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is there anything else?"

"Well now, it just happens there is." He wet his fingers and counted off a pile of bills. "There’s the matter of all the chances you had to let one of the men buy you a drink and you refused. That’s money out of my pocket, whether you like it or not." He looked down at the pile of bills, added several more, then handed her the rest. "I’ll take thirty-five dollars for my loss. That still leaves you with eighty dollars."

He glanced up to see the blaze of fury in her eyes. "Of course, I could be persuaded to forget these measly debts, if you know what I mean." He ran his knuckles across her cheek and saw her flinch as if she’d been burned.

"I’ll take my money, Snake."

"You’re a fool, kid."

As he handed her the money, Snake casually opened his velvet jacket to reveal the shining handle of a gun in his waistband.

"Any complaints about my bookkeeping?"

She licked her lips. "Plenty. But I don’t think you’d listen." She turned away. "You knew I was counting on this money, Snake."

"You didn’t hear my business proposition yet. There are plenty of ways to make big money in this town."

She kept her back to him. "I won’t be one of your women, Snake. I don’t need the money that badly."

He frowned. She was tougher than he thought.

"I have another offer."

She waited, her hand on the knob.

"There’s a private party tomorrow night. Biggest thing in Skagway, as a matter of fact. The captain of a shipping line is throwing an engagement party for his daughter. He’s heard of you and wants you to sing at the party."

September turned. "Why?"

"Because a lot of the women in this town have heard about you and won’t come to my place to see you. Them being proper church-going ladies and all that. This way, you can satisfy their curiosity about you and make some money as well."

"How much?"

He smiled. "Fifty dollars."

"And all I have to do is sing?"

"That’s right."

She thought a minute. "All right. It’s a deal. Where should I go?"

"Come here tomorrow. I’ll take you there myself."

"What time?"

"Six o’clock. That way, you can still make it back here by eight. We can’t afford to disappoint my regular customers."

She nodded. As she opened the door, she added, "Be sure you have the fifty dollars tomorrow night. I don’t want to wait for it."

"You’ll get it."

She turned and walked out the door.

As she walked away, he fingered the hundred dollars he had already been paid for her. Taking half was only fair, he assured himself. After all, without him she’d still be hauling mending around town in that dirty old cart.

He opened the door and stepped to the head of the stairs.

"September."

She cocked her head.

"You really ought to let me put that money in my safe. There’s no telling what might happen to you on the way home."

"I’ll take my chances."

As she turned away, Snake nodded to two men standing at the bar.

September hurried down the stairs, thrusting the money deep into the pocket of her gown. Drawing her shawl about her shoulders, she ran into the darkness, unaware of the curious glances from the men gathered around the bar.