Cold Gold (5 page)

“What do you mean, ‘checked the men’?” Serena’s eyes widened in shock. “You surely didn’t have to look at their, well their...”

“Penises,” Lorelei finished for her while Maggie, who until now had sat silently listening to the conversation, exploded with laughter. Lorelei ignored her. “Yes, I did. Mrs. Larch took pride in having a clean house. If the men were unwashed, they were directed to a side room to clean up before they were allowed upstairs. If any of them had the slightest sign of infection they were told to see the doctor and turned away.”

“Do you still do that?” Intrigued in spite of herself, Serena held her breath while she waited for the answer. Maggie poured more tea, chuckling at Serena’s shocked expression.

“No.” Lorelei shook her head. “I have Nurse Annie do that. She looks after all the girls.”

“And you
, too?”

“Yes, but not in the way I think you mean.” Lorelei’s
color had returned and a sad smile hovered on her mouth. “I have never prostituted myself, Serena, and I don’t care if you believe me or not. Mrs. Larch paid me well to manage her house and in that respect my family would be proud of me. When she died, she left me the business. And believe me, it is a business.”

Serena sat quietly, considering Lorelei’s story. She looked at Maggie, who smiled and shook her head.

“We all get to where we are by different roads,” Maggie’s Irish lilt softened her voice. “My family left Ireland because of the potato famine. My Ma and Da headed to San Francisco, and birthed a whole string of us. I got tired of struggling for every blasted penny and followed the money as soon as I came of age. Unlike Lorelei I did go with men, but only them that could afford me. I always wanted my own business, and this bakery and the boarding house supports me better than most men could.”

Serena
considered the irony of the two women’s situations. Lorelei, with her genteel upbringing, now owning a bawdy house. Maggie using her proceeds from prostitution to fund respectable businesses.

“So,” Maggie’s voice broke the silence. “What do you intend
on doing with your Randolph gone?”

Serena put her cup down. “I
have to find him,” she said. “But I really don’t know how I shall accomplish that, especially as Mr. Harris will not allow me access to Randolph’s funds.”

“Will he not?” Maggie’s face flushed with outrage. “The old skinflint.”

“Well, unfortunately he does have a point.” Serena told them about her meeting with Frank Harris. “So you see, I am in a rather difficult position. I have next to no money, no access to funds, and absolutely no idea what to do next.”

Serena didn’t like the mischievous glint that appeared in Maggie’s eyes, or her suggestion that she should apply to Lorelei for a position in her house.

“’Course, if I told you some of the positions that could earn you some very good coin, you might not believe me.” Maggie rolled her eyes suggestively and Lorelei giggled and cuffed her arm.

“Don’t tease her, Maggie. I’m sure we can find something for her to do.”
Lorelei looked hopefully at Serena. “Can you teach?”

Serena shook her head.

“Sew?”

“I can barely thread a needle.”

“Bake?”

“The only time I have ever
set foot in a kitchen was to discuss menus with our cook.”

“Well, what can you do?

Serena didn’t think horse riding and pheasant shooting would be of any account, but she did have one skill. If she dared do it. She looked from Maggie to Lorelei and back again.

“I can
sing.”

Chapter Five

“Well, yes, I suppose you can,” Lorelei remarked. “You likely had the same kind of musical education as did I. Although, I must say I played the piano far better than I could sing. What kind of songs are you familiar with?”

Serena sprang to her feet, took a deep breath and began to sing ‘
I dreamt I dwelled in marble halls
,’ in a clear, pure voice. When she finished, she quickly sipped her tea, cleared her throat and proceeded with ‘
I’m only a bird in a guilded cage’
.

Maggie and Lorelei sat open mouthed and spell bound. Before they could say anything, Serena launched into a rowdy version of ‘
Down at the Old Bull and Bush
’ and when she finished that she picked up her skirts and performed a very energetic version of ‘
Tarara Boom De Ay’
.

By the time she came to a breathless stop, Maggie and Lorelei were on their feet, clapping their hands. The staff in the store had cracked the door open a little and were taking a peek to see who had been singing. Serena touched her chin with a forefinger and dipped a curtsy to them all.

“Well,” Maggie said. “And how many more songs do you know?”

“Oh, at least a dozen or more,” Serena told her. “Up until now I’ve only ever sung them at home. Do you think I could make a performance out of them?”

“If you throw up your skirts and show your bloomers like that, you’ll have a packed hall and a full pocket,” Maggie said with a grin.

“I know some of those songs,” Lorelei admitted, “I heard our servants singing them sometimes. How did you learn them?”

Serena sat down to catch her breath and wafted a hand in front of her face to cool her rosy cheeks. “Randolph and I used to borrow clothes from our staff and go and sit right in the front of the music hall.” A rich chuckle, full of remembered fun, burst from her throat. “But then I had the good fortune to meet and spend some time with Florrie Ford when we were both in Arabia.”

“What were you doing in Arabia?” A look of disbelief settled on Lorelei’s face.

“Oh, the ship Florrie travelled on to England made port in Medina where Randolph and I had also stopped on our way to Australia.”

“Silly me. What was I thinking?” Lorelei tipped her head back and smacked the back of her hand against her forehead
in a dramatic gesture of stupidity. “Of course, one always drops into Arabia on one’s way to Australia.”

Serena eyed her caustically. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Lorelei. Had you not followed your heart it may well have been a journey you would have taken.
The Dowager Lady Buxton asked Randolph to purchase Arabian stallions for her stud. She had a long and exacting list of what she wanted and Randolph toured one sheikdom after another to fulfill her requirements. The sheiks considered it most inappropriate for me to accompany him, so I remained in Medina which is where I met Florrie.”

The information rendered Maggie
speechless and Lorelei’s eyes opened as round as buttons. Serena laughed at their surprise, more than a little pleased with herself for having impressed them with her skill.

“Oh, my Lord,” Maggie said
, still thinking on Serena’s abilities. She shook her head. “You really could earn yourself a fortune.”

“I’d be happy with enough to
keep myself until Randolph returns. And if only I could stage one performance...oh.” Serena stopped talking and bit her lip. “That will take money that I haven’t got.”

A sense of defeat hovered
around her like a blue cloud.

“Now
, that we can help with,” Maggie said. “Not that there’s any choice of places you could perform. There’s only King’s club or the church hall. I doubt the parson would permit such a thing, but we won’t know unless we ask the church committee.”

“
Other than church business, they only allow very boring dances to be held there on a Friday or Saturday evening.” Lorelei tapped her cheek with a forefinger as she pondered the problem. “If we advertize in the Gazette and promise the parson a healthy donation for the church, a Wednesday night might work.”

“But how could that be arranged?” Hope blossomed in Serena’s chest.

“Don’t worry. We’ll work out the details,” Lorelei promised her. “Maggie, you ask Mrs. Harris for a date at the church hall. I think she’s still head of the committee. Now, Serena, list the songs you want to sing. I may know some of them, and if I don’t I’d only have to hear them a couple of times for me to be able to accompany you on the piano. If we’re going to put on a full two-hour show we need some other entertainment, too.”

“The blacksmith’s boy is pretty nifty on his feet,” Maggie said. “He fair makes the boardwalks ring when he gets step dancing, plus he can soft shoe shuffle and buck and wing as good as that Mr. Bojangles.”

“Ask him if he’d like to earn himself a wage for joining the performance,” Lorelei said.

“Seems like I’m doin’ all the askin’,” Maggie grumbled.

Lorelei shot her a sharp glance. “Come on, Maggie, you know I can’t, and Serena doesn’t yet know enough people to ask. Is there anyone else you can think of who might fill a spot?”

For a moment silence reigned as the three of them continued to think.

“Oh.” Serena suddenly clapped her hands. “Randolph and I saw a troupe of Chinese jugglers at the Tivoli Theatre in London once. I could ask Min if anyone in her community might be able to do that.”

Lorelei nodded. “Good. And I do believe one of my girls mentioned a client who does magic tricks.”

“Now, now, Lorelei, that might not be the kind of trick we can put on the stage.”

Maggie kept her face devoid of all expression as she spoke, but Lorelei reprimanded her for her sauciness and then all three of them burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh, Serena realized. How could it be a mere hour ago that she despaired of a solution to her woes?

Lorelei stood up. “Come on, Serena. Maggie can walk you back to the Eldorado. Oh, and Maggie, have a word with Lucy while you’re there, will you? She might help.”

“I don’t think so,” Serena said doubtfully. “She
insisted that I must pay my way after the end of the month, or move out. She talked about how hard she and her husband, Joe, worked to be able to buy their place. I’m sure she won’t be at all sympathetic.”

Maggie and Lorelei glanced at each other.

“Have you met Joe?” Maggie asked.

“Now that you mention it,
” Serena’s brow wrinkled as she thought about Maggie’s question, “No, I haven’t.”

“And nor will you,” Lorelei chipped in. “He’s in jail
. He thieved from every place they worked which is why they moved from house-to-house and hotel-to-hotel. He had a good eye, did Joe. Only took small, but expensive stuff that wouldn’t be missed. But then, when they nearly had enough to buy a place, he got greedy and did over a whole floor of rooms in a hotel in Denver. He got caught but Lucy managed to wiggle her way out of that situation and lay low for a time before she came here.”

Se
rena found it hard to believe. “Good Lord, does everyone in Cold Creek have a secret?” She picked up her gloves from where she’d thrown them on a table.

“No different here than anywhere else.” Maggie said, smiling.
“Everyone has secrets, you included. Come on now.”

Maggie and Serena left the bakery and walked along the sidewalk together. The sun
had climbed high in the sky and the soft air held a promise of spring, although Maggie assured her there would be more snow yet. They paused before crossing the street. A shambling figure turned the corner of the Lucky Strike Saloon and stumbled in front of them.

“Now,
Trader you be moving on out of our way,” Maggie instructed. “We don’t want any trouble with the likes of you.”

The man squinted at them out of bleary, age-dimmed eyes. Spittle pooled at one side of his mouth and his tongue, pale pink and somehow obscene, darted out reminding Serena of a lizard she had once seen. Her spine tingled as he came closer. He reeked of alcohol and cradled a half empty bottle of whisky in the crook of his arm. He raised his hand and pointed a gnarled and filthy finger at her.

“Feed the dragon,” he mumbled. He stumbled around them and Serena turned to watch him go.

“What did he mean?” she asked.

“Oh, who knows.” Maggie took Serena’s arm and they picked their way across the muddy street. “Trader’s always mumbling something. No one knows where he came from or where he goes, but he seems to have been here forever. Came to make his fortune same as everyone else and, just the same as everyone else, got worn out with gold fever. He started trading anything and everything he could get his hands on. Don’t think anyone knows his real name. I for sure don’t, but every town has a drunk and I guess he’s ours.”

As they reached
the door of the hotel, Serena heard a burst of childish laughter. She looked across the street and saw a couple with a small boy between them. The boy had torn off his cap and objected to his mother trying to put it on again.

Her heart leapt with the yearning she
could not quite quell. Would she ever have a child of her own? Would her belly ever swell with new life? She tugged Maggie’s sleeve.

“Who’s that with
Frank Harris?”

“That’s his
wife, Ellie-May, and their son, Robert,” Maggie told her. “Incidentally, she’s the Mrs. Harris as heads the church hall committee.”

Serena watched them
as they turned the corner of the bank. Did Ellie-May Harris really appreciate having a husband and a child?