Authors: Kat Martin
She paid her bill at the counter and pushed the door open, the bell above signaling her departure. A tall, gangling youth and two younger boys accompanied by a broad-shouldered, bearded man pushed her roughly aside. Her hat tumbled to the wooden walk as she was jostled among the four people.
“’Scuse me, ma’am,” the bearded, graying man said as he steadied her. Without waiting for a reply, he tipped his hat and followed the others out of sight.
Elaina retrieved her own hat, a little unsettled at the rough encounter, and started walking back toward the train.
She’d gone more than a block when she felt the color drain from her face. For the first time, she realized her reticule was gone. Panicky, she glanced around, madly searching the dirt at her feet. Her gaze scanning every inch of the ground along the way, she dashed back to the boardwalk. When she reached the restaurant, she rushed inside, checked her seat and the counter, but in her heart she knew she’d been robbed. The four men had run into her on purpose and had stolen her purse while she was distracted.
Dear God, now what would she do? All her money—all Ada’s money—was in her reticule. And her train ticket! Oh, God, her ticket! Now she couldn’t even get to California. She slumped down on the wooden bench beneath the restaurant window, feeling light-headed and slightly sick to her stomach. Of all the rotten luck! It seemed her whole life had been nothing but a string of bad luck. The loss of her family and the mine, believing Ren Daniels was Dan Morgan, Chuck Dawson forcing her to leave Keyserville— now this! Was nothing ever going to turn out right for her?
Refusing to give in to despair, Elaina stood up and squared her shoulders. It was silly to feel sorry for herself. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself. She’d been doing it for years.
“Excuse me.” She approached the first respectably dressed person who passed. “Could you direct me to the sheriff’s office?” She would simply go to the sheriff, tell him what happened. Surely he could help her.
The blond man tipped his broad-brimmed fawn-colored hat. “Be happy to, ma’am,” he said with a soft southern drawl. “But it’s the marshal, not the sheriff. Marshal Taylor’s office is down the street ’bout two blocks on your left. You all right, ma’am? You look kinda pale.”
“I—I’m afraid I’ve been robbed.”
The tall man frowned. “Cheyenne’s a tough town for a woman alone. You are alone, aren’t you?”
“I’m traveling west to California on the train. At least I was until some men stole my purse.”
“If you don’t mind my sayin’ so, ma’am, you may have a problem. Did anyone see them do it? Have you got any proof?”
Elaina swallowed hard. She sank back down on the bench, wringing her hands. The man was right. What proof did she have? Maybe she had just lost her purse. There was no real evidence to suggest the men had taken it. Tears welled in her eyes.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered, mostly to herself.
A smile lit the well-dressed man’s warm hazel eyes. “Nothin’s ever that bad. Surely there’s someone you can wire for money. Someone you can ask for help.”
Elaina shook her head. She’d taken every cent Ada had, and there was no one else to ask. “Thank you for your trouble. I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She rose and started past him, but he caught her arm.
“Here, take this.” He handed her his card. “If things don’t work out, come and see me. Maybe I can help.”
Elaina accepted the card. “Thank you, Mr.”—she glanced down—“Cameron. Thank you very much.”
“Pleasure meetin’ you, Miss . . . ?” His warm-honey accent seemed to echo the warmth in his eyes.
“McAllister. Elaina McAllister.”
“Pleasure meetin’ you, Miss McAllister.” He tipped his hat again and walked off down the boardwalk.
Elaina sat back down, trying to compose herself, trying to decide what to do. She thought again of Ren and tried to blame her current troubles on him. If he hadn’t come to Keyserville in the first place, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t come to Keyserville . . . If he hadn’t come to Keyserville, she would never have known the passion he’d aroused, never felt the warmth of his kiss. As always, she had to admit, even in her dire circumstances, she wouldn’t have missed one moment of their time together for anything in the world.
Tears welled at the thought, and self-pity threatened to swamp her. Was this her punishment for falling in love? The thought sobered her. She refused to call what she and Ren had “love.” Desire, yes. Passion, yes. But love? Love was something two people shared. It was built on honesty and trust. Their relationship had been based on lies.
Elaina wiped the tears from beneath her eyes, sniffed, and pulled herself together. She would have to get a job. Earn the money for her passage the rest of the way to San Francisco. Worse things had happened to lots of people. She was more than halfway there. She was lucky to have made it this far. She stood, squared her shoulders, and marched determinedly off down the street. Only the lonesome whistle of the train as it pulled out of the station dampened her spirits.
* * *
By nightfall more than her spirits were damp. When the train pulled out of the station, it had left Elaina behind, but unfortunately it had not left her clothes. She’d been so upset, so unnerved by the whole ugly mess, that she hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d forgotten to collect her satchel before the train departed. Now she not only had no money but she had nothing to wear except the clothes on her back, and they were dirty, damp with perspiration, and wrinkled. Her feet ached miserably. She’d been to every merchant, every shopkeeper, anyone and everyone who might be able to offer her a job. The story was always the same. There were ten people waiting in line for every job in Cheyenne.
Returning to the bench in front of the Delmonico House, Elaina sat down, fighting back tears. It was rapidly getting dark, and she had no place to go, no one she could turn to. She didn’t even have money for a room. The delicious aroma of beef stew wafted through the door of the restaurant as a customer entered. Even though she’d had a big lunch, her stomach rumbled. Walking for hours had given her an appetite. If only she had the money for a bowl of that stew.
Beginning to feel desperate, she fished in her pocket and came up with Chase Cameron’s card, wanting to read the man’s address before it got too dark. All it gave below his name was Cameron Enterprises and an address on Main Street. She probably should have gone to Cameron’s office in the first place, but she’d been so upset, and he’d already been so helpful, she didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity.
Now she had no choice.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened the bodice of her traveling suit and tucked a few stray tendrils of her hair into the bun at the back of her head. Resolutely, she marched down the street toward Cameron Enterprises.
Chapter 14
C
HASE
C
AMERON GLANCED
up from his card game just in time to see Elaina McAllister’s tawny eyes peeking over the swinging doors of the saloon.
The fine features of her oval face registered shock and dismay. He smiled to himself and shoved his chair back. He’d known she would come sooner or later. The defeated look on her face earlier today had told him she had nowhere else to turn. And there were no jobs in Cheyenne—at least not the kind of jobs a girl like Elaina McAllister would consider. Chase had expected her long before now.
As he walked toward the door of the White Elephant, he watched indecision play across her face. She couldn’t believe this was Cameron Enterprises. She wanted to turn and walk away, but couldn’t. She wasn’t the first woman to face the same dilemma. Being in the saloon business, Chase had seen scores of them. Pretty girls, desperate for money, who finally ended up making a living flat on their backs. Chase wondered if Elaina McAllister would be another of life’s casualties.
“Hello, Miss McAllister. Won’t you step into my office?”
Her mouth moved, but no words came. Finally, she swallowed and found her voice. “This is your . . . office?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid it is. This is my saloon. Cameron Enterprises owns saloons all over the West . . . even in California,” he teased.
“I—I see.”
But she didn’t really see at all. He was sure this was hardly what she’d expected. His elegant clothing had given her the impression he was a gentleman of means—and he was. To a certain extent.
Chase took the girl’s arm and escorted her through the men’s boisterous laughter and lusty remarks and into his inner office. Dazed and confused, she let him lead her. When he closed the door she jumped as if a gun had been fired. She seemed disoriented and a little shaky. He was sure she’d never seen the inside of a saloon before.
“I was hope—hoping,” she stuttered, “to take you up on your offer of assistance. I thought maybe you could offer me a job, but—”
“But that’s exactly what I can do, Miss McAllister.” She eyed him uncertainly. “Where?” she asked, and he read the hopeful expression in her eyes.
“Why, right here, of course.”
She sank down on the deep red leather chair he offered, her face pale, her eyes bleak. “But I couldn’t possibly . . .”
“What other choices do you have, ma’am?”
She didn’t answer.
“I know how scarce jobs are in Cheyenne. Unless there’s someone you could wire for money, I’d suggest you hear me out.”
“But what . . . what would I be doing?”
“Stand up.”
“What?”
“I said stand up.”
She did as Cameron directed.
“Now lift up your skirt and show me your legs.”
“I most certainly will not! How dare you! I thought you were a gentleman!” She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm.
“Please, Miss McAllister, I assure you this is strictly
business. I’m only tryin’ to help. If you’re goin’ to work here, you’ll have to show me your legs. I want my customers to like what they see.”
She sat back down. “Please, Mr. Cameron, isn’t there anything else I could do?”
Chase heard the quiver in her voice. His eyes raked her. Though she looked dirty and tired, he couldn’t miss her fine cheekbones, slim straight nose, and delicate arching brows. She stood tall and graceful. He had little doubt her legs would please his most discerning customer—he had an eye for the ladies.
He liked the girl’s style. She was desperate but still unwilling to put her integrity aside, at least for the time being. He’d have to move slowly with this one.
“Can you sing?”
Elaina looked at him suspiciously. “A little. Why?”
“I’ve got a singin’ job open at the Black Garter in Central City. You’d still have to show your legs, but you wouldn’t have to mix with the customers.”
“Central City?”
“Yes. It’s in Colorado, about a four-hour train ride from here. A minin’ town in the Rockies. I’ll be goin’ there myself. The company will pay your fare, and I’ll escort you personally. For tonight you can stay in one of the rooms upstairs.”
Elaina felt sick. How could she possibly accept this man’s proposal? And spending the night in a saloon—it was unthinkable! But where would she go if she didn’t accept? What would she do? She couldn’t roam the streets of Cheyenne all night. Look what had happened to her in only an hour. She slumped resignedly in her chair.
“You’re certain all I have to do is sing?”
“All you have to do is sing. Your virtue will be safe, I promise you.” He grinned broadly.
Elaina watched his hazel eyes for some sign of the truth. He was a handsome man, one who inspired trust, even though she knew better than to rely on the word of a stranger.
She straightened. “I accept your generous offer, Mr. Cameron. And I thank you. Now, if you will show me to my room . . .”
“Don’t you want to know how much the job pays?”
“As you said, I have no choice. Now if you’ll be kind enough—”
“The evenin’s young yet, Miss McAllister. Why don’t I have a bath sent to your room? You can freshen up and join me for dinner. You
are
hungry, aren’t you?”
She was starved. It was a more than tempting offer. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron. That would be nice.”
“Chase. Please. May I call you Elaina?”
She wanted to say no. To keep their arrangement as businesslike as possible, but it would be far too rude. “Certainly, Mr.—I mean, Chase.”
He led her from the office and up the stairs to her room. It was small but comfortably furnished with a wide bed, a nightstand with a yellow-flowered basin and pitcher, and a small three-drawer bureau. The bath arrived shortly, and Elaina had seldom beheld a more pleasant sight. The copper tub roiled with steam as she undressed and slipped into the water. The creamy suds and warmth of the water conspired to relax her aching muscles. She lathered her hair and scrubbed herself with the rose-scented soap Chase had sent along with towels and a sponge. Just to be completely clean again after five days of spot baths felt wonderful.
After a good long soak, she rose from the tub and dried herself. A knock at the door, interrupting the completion of her toilette, signaled the entrance of a dark-complexioned woman carrying an elegant blue silk gown.
“Mr. Chase send this for you,” the girl told her with a bit of a Spanish accent. “I take your others and clean.”
“Thank you.” Elaina didn’t ask the woman how Chase Cameron happened to have a gown that would fit her. She
was too happy not to have to put her dirty gray suit back on. Though the décolletage was daringly low, Elaina felt civilized and beautiful in the light blue gown.
Over dinner, an elegant affair in the lobby of the Inter-Ocean Hotel, she questioned him about the dress.
He answered with a devilish smile. “When you travel as much as I do, Elaina, you make a lot of friends. Some are close friends, some are not, but all of them are useful at one time or another. This particular friend owns a dress shop here in Cheyenne.”
Elaina was beginning to get a clear picture of Mr. Chase Cameron. From the looks he’d been receiving all evening from the ladies, she was certain he had more than a few women friends. The bold way he watched her made her wonder if part of his helpfulness was due to an intention to add her to his list.