Dulcina

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  “Much has changed since I wrote the letter. The advertisements the widows created and distributed have obviously worked well. Men have been arriving all week to attend the auction.” She glanced up then quickly looked away.

  At the corner, he followed her turn and shuffled positions to walk closest to the street. He catalogued the names of businesses as they passed and noticed most had customers.

  “Two thieves on the run from a bank robbery in Curdy’s Crossing were apprehended and killed here in town. Then the marshal, Etta Fawks”—she cleared her throat—“was discovered to be a wanted fugitive. She’s now dead, too, but her death was more of an accident. Priscilla only threw the rock to scare her away. In escaping, Etta fell and cracked her head on a boulder.”

  Each statement, spoken in a casual tone, tightened concern in his gut. The young girl he knew would have been horrified by such events. “You have had a rough time.”

  “I have, but you told me to put those events in the past.” She stopped and dug into her reticule. “This is it.”

  Gabriel set down the portmanteau and stepped to the edge of the boardwalk. He tipped back his head to inspect the small sign hanging on a metal rod over the door and the painted façade with Last Chance Saloon. Both looked sun-faded and needed repainting.

  “Here’s the saloon.” Dulcina disappeared into the dim interior. “Welcome.”

  Hefting the luggage by the handle, he stepped over the threshold and glanced around. A standard saloon—long, heavy wood bar with brass foot rail, round wooden tables with chairs, and a small raised platform tucked under the staircase. The crates he sent on the train stood stacked in the far corner. At the sight of the food crate yet unpacked, he frowned. Upstairs, he spotted a balcony railing running on two sides of what must be bedrooms. Nothing special.

  A second look set him wondering about the lack of liquor bottles and gambling tables. But he held his tongue. “Do you want to show me the rest of the establishment, or will you need a lot of time to put on something more appropriate?” He pulled out his watch and flicked open the lid. “Our meeting with Judge Vaile is scheduled for one o’clock.” Less than an hour until his life changed.

  Her jaw dropped. “You actually made an appointment without first talking to me?”

  “Of course, I did. Your letter stated the need for a husband was a matter of urgency.” He watched shock soften into contemplation as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted. “As your prospective husband, I put consideration of your reputation as my primary concern. Our marriage will resolve any issues on the propriety of me being here.”

  The need to touch her, to make her understand, filled him. As he reached toward Dulcina, he caught movement from the far end of the room.

  “You’re back already, Miss Dulcina?” A man sauntered in from a rear hallway, pulling a suspender over his shoulder.

  Gabriel’s protective instincts went on alert. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Gabriel.” Dulcina hurried to his side and rested a hand on his forearm. “You never gave me a chance to explain everything. Circumstances arose, and my being here alone at night wasn’t smart.” She angled her body to gesture toward the man leaning on the bar. “Our, um, my bartender, Ralph Driscoll, moved in and has been living in the storeroom.” Her brows pinched tight.

  “Mister Magnus.” The sandy-haired man walked across the floor, right hand extended. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  At the words “moved in,”’ Gabriel straightened to his full height. “How long…?”

  “Excuse me?” His footsteps skittered on the floor, and his arm dropped limp at his side.

  “How long have you lived here?” The words barely fit between his clenched teeth. Blood pumped fast through his body. He gripped his biceps to keep from taking a swing at the guy, even if he had an advantage of at least four inches, forty pounds, and a dozen years.

  Dulcina’s fingers dug harder into his arm.

  “See here, stranger.” Driscoll’s eyes shot wide then narrowed to a slit. “I respect Miss Dulcina and came here to honor what Stuart would have wanted done for his wife.” He clamped his arms across his chest. “I have never set a single foot on the second floor.”

  After responding with a curt nod, Gabriel let out a long breath. He’d have to apologize for his outburst, but what was he supposed to think? He shifted so he faced Dulcina. “The tour or the clothes? Time is moving along.”

  Dark eyes glared over lips smashed tight. “You are acting like a horrible boor.” Grabbing the front of her skirts, she dashed across the floor and stomped up the stairs.

  Gabriel waited for the inevitable door slam before turning to the stern-faced man. “I don’t know how much Dulcina has told you, but I’m here to lay claim to her as my wife and the saloon as my livelihood. What remains to be seen is if you’ll accept me in those roles with no questions asked, or if you’ll need to search for other employment. At this moment, I have no opinion either way.” He braced his hands on his hips and waited.

  Driscoll rubbed a hand over his chin, scratching at his whiskers. “I believe you are just who Miss Dulcina needs. I’m here to stay, boss.” He grinned and again extended his hand.

  “Good.” Gabriel shook the man’s strong grip. “Now, I’d appreciate a quick tour before we need to leave for the judge’s office.” At least he’d gained one ally. Now he just had to change Dulcina’s glares and stares to sighs and kisses.

  Within ten minutes, Ralph pointed out the various features of everything on the first floor—the main room, both storerooms, the office, and the kitchen.

  Discovering a functional still in the small storeroom had been a surprise. From the bags of milled corn, he guessed corn liquor or moonshine had been made. Gabriel stood in the kitchen, looking at the layout of the sink with water pump and the proximity of the stove. He ducked his head into the small room that Ralph set up as a bedroom and paced off the measurements. “What would you think about using an upstairs room? Granted, I have to look to see what’s up there and how the rooms are being used. But most saloons have three or four rooms on the second floor.” He waved a hand between the kitchen and the storeroom. “This area would be the logical place to set up my distilling equipment. I’d move the other still in here, too.”

  Ralph nodded. “I suppose that’d be okay. But you sure you want me that close…seein’ as you’ll be newly married?”

  “You heard the door slam a few minutes ago.” He chuckled. “Dulcina and I have a few things to work out before the need for privacy becomes pressing.”

  “If you don’t mind, boss, I’d like to hear the invitation in her words.”

  “Not a problem. Now, I’ve got a question.” He strode into the saloon’s main room and pointed to the counter behind the bar. “Why isn’t liquor visible? Having multiple different bottles on display is part of a saloon atmosphere.”

  “Well, sir, they were until a couple weeks ago.” Ralph walked around the bar and then along the back side until he was about even. He held his hands a couple feet apart then stretched his hand above his head to indicate the dimensions. “A real fine case with three shelves sat right here. Carved supports and engraved designs along the front. We stored a couple dozen bottles inside when the saloon was operating at full capacity. Most often it held only six or eight.”

  “So, what happened?” The case sounded like the most special part of the whole enterprise.

  “Mister Crane sauntered in here one afternoon, pressuring Miss Dulcina to sing in his saloon. She refused him again, and he showed her loan papers Stuart signed.” He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “She doesn’t have cash money to pay off that loan, so he walked out with the case as partial payment.”

  “Huh.” The word “pressure” didn’t sit well, but at least Dulcina stood firm. The term “horrible boor” sounded like it fit this Crane fellow better than him. “What’s the financial arrangement you have with Dulcina for your work here?
”

  “Right now, room and board only. But this week, business has really picked up with people arriving for the auction and all.” He ran a hand through his hair. “In fact, I should be setting down the chairs and getting ready to open.”

  “I understand.” He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t meet, but working without pay must be tough on the man. “Once I’ve reviewed the ledger and the bank account and see what the revenues are over the next few days, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

  The older man grinned and headed from behind the bar. “Much obliged, boss.”

  Gabriel consulted his watch again. Twenty minutes remained. “I best freshen up myself before I hurry Dulcina along.”

  “You’re welcome to use my room. Heating water shouldn’t take but a couple minutes. In fact, I should start a pot of coffee.”

  Gabriel waved him off. “Let me take care of that. You do what’s needed to open for business.” Moments later, as he lathered his face to shave, he marveled at how well his plan was coming together. He’d anticipated having to run the place himself, but the presence of an experienced bartender would free up his time. Finding the major component of the distillation process, a condensing still, already on site advanced his timeline for increasing production.

  After rinsing excess soap from his cheeks, he reached into the carpetbag for his frosted bottle of Curzon cologne. He twisted the metal top with the tiny spout then shook out several drops of the earthy, woodsy scent into a cupped hand. Rubbing his palms together brought out the essence before he tapped his cheeks and neck then brushed the excess across the top of his bared chest.

  He picked up his discarded shirt and sniffed it, grimacing at the smell of dust and sweat. A clean one from his portmanteau would be wrinkled, but he preferred a fresh-smelling one. He walked through the kitchen and down the hall, heading toward the foot of the stairs where he’d left the case.

  “Oh my.”

  Glancing to the second-floor landing, he realized his mistake of not pulling on the dirty shirt before being where he might be seen. But he kept moving.

  Dulcina held out a foot poised over the first step. Her gaze moved across his exposed torso.

  Judging by her imitation of being frozen solid, she might not be repulsed by his physique. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at her new outfit. A dove gray gown with deep swags at the sides accented her curves. An inset of matching lace over her generous bosom provided a combination of modesty and titillation. “Your gown is beautiful and a fitting choice for the ceremony. As soon as I select a shirt, I’ll be ready.”

  He unsnapped the clasps and spread the case’s sides to expose the two sections holding just about everything he owned. The shirt closest in color to her dress was on top of the stack. Before putting it on, he shook it out a couple times. Then he eased open a small drawer that held the box with the wedding ring he’d bought in Denver. Shifting to hide his movements, he picked up the ring from the velvet lining and slipped it into his trouser pocket. Cufflinks were needed for this new shirt, and he palmed his only set. As he finished, he heard soft footsteps descend the stairs.

  The timing was perfect, and he met Dulcina as she reached the bottom. “Will you help with the cufflinks?”

  “Of course.” She accepted the silver items and fitted them in the proper sewn slots. “This shirt is of fine quality.”

  He didn’t tell her that he’d had to buy clothes appropriate for a saloon at a couple stops along his travels here. “I like it.” She’d rearranged her hair to make it curve looser around her face. He was useless at knowing the details of a woman’s toilette, but he guessed he’d be learning. “Let me grab my jacket, and we’ll be off.” Back in Ralph’s room, he took folded documents from the carpetbag and slid them into his jacket pocket.

  The walk to the judge’s office, around the corner and one block over, lasted less than five minutes. Only when the clean-shaven man opened the door to usher them inside did Gabriel feel the first inkling of doubt about the completion of task one. What if by moving this fast he ruined the possibility of him and Dulcina building a true and lasting love?

  g

  How could Gabriel be so calm? Dulcina flexed fingers that had started tingling from being clasped so tight. Of course, when she asked him to come, she knew that they would be involved in the ceremony. But she’d never actually pictured standing before an officiant with Gabriel by her side. Certainly, she’d never pictured a man who looked the way this Gabriel did. The gawky youth she’d left behind had been on the cusp of manhood. And he had developed into quite a specimen.

  As they walked, she’d snuck sideways glances as he took in the buildings surrounding them. He was taller, broader, and darker than Stuart. His black hair shone in the afternoon sun, his skin radiated a healthy tan evidencing time spent outdoors, but his eyes were her favorite feature. In the span of a minute, they could change from lit with mischief to dull with disappointment or snap with anger. She remembered how his dark brown eyes also held little slivers of yellow. Amazing how she’d been in his presence for less than an hour and these details resurrected in her mind.

  She stammered her way through the introductions, and then she stood opposite Judge Owen Vaile, who smiled at them both. The fortyish man had helped the widows with the legalities related to developing the hot springs created by the mine collapse. She’d heard him talking with Mayor Fugit, and he’d impressed her with his logical and eloquent manner.

  “Are you both ready?” Owen flicked his blue-eyed gaze between them.

  “We are, Judge.”

  Gabriel’s voice rang deep and confident in the room. Dulcina just nodded. A fleeting thought surfaced of how different this ceremony was from the one she’d shared with Stuart—at the ornate church in Questa before the priest and surrounded by family and friends—then she pushed it aside. Gabriel was right—they had to look toward the future.

  “Wonderful. I’ll collect the witnesses.” He stepped to a side door, opened it, and waved into the doorway.

  Cordelia Wentz, the newly appointed marshal, and Hester slipped into place to one side of the office, smiling.

  Dulcina returned the smile then faced front.

  “My ceremony isn’t fancy, but it’s legally binding.” He reached behind him to the desktop for a small leather-bound book. “A marriage recognizes a lawful bond between a man and woman in which they promise to forge a life together with honor and love, cherishing and protecting that devotion, and keeping it only to themselves.”

  When he looked her way with upraised eyebrows, Dulcina felt compelled to nod.

  “Please clasp your right hands.” He leaned forward. “Tell me your name.”

  She recited it and noticed when Gabriel stiffened at the last part.

  Owen straightened. “Do you, Dulcina Angelique Miranda y Alameda viuda de Crass, promise to abide by the covenants of marriage as so described?”

  Because she couldn’t resist, she turned and gazed at Gabriel’s somber face—his strong brow, straight nose, and solid jaw. With two simple words, she would tie herself to this man who she no longer knew like she once had. But he’d come in her time of peril, and that action spoke of someone who cared. Needing him to know her feelings, she squeezed his fingers until he angled his head, and she could look into his eyes as she made her promise. “I do.”

  Owen repeated the request for Gabriel’s full name. “And do you, Gabriel Alberto Rafael Magnus y Chavez, promise to abide by the covenants of marriage as so described?”

  Gabriel kept his gaze constant. The left side of his mouth quirked upward. “I do.”

  “Is a ring to be bestowed?”

  Dulcina opened her mouth to demur. Stuart hadn’t wanted her to wear one, because he said being seen as a married woman would spoil the allure of her performances.

  “I have one.” He released her hand to reach into his trouser pocket.

  A thrill went through her at the thoughtful gesture.

  “Goo
d. Place it here in the book gutter then rest your hands one atop the other above it.”

  They complied, and suddenly the solemnity of the situation brought a lump to her throat.

  “The ring is an outward symbol of an inward pledge. Just like two different threads woven in opposite directions can create a beautiful tapestry, so will your lives merge and entwine to form a wonderful marriage. Love is the core of the marriage but also needed is trust, knowing in your hearts you want the best for each other. You will need dedication to learn and to grow together, even when this action is not easy to carry out.”

  Dulcina didn’t bat an eye as she looked into Gabriel’s dark eyes. How did the words the judge must have spoken on other occasions to other individuals feel like they’d been chosen just for her and Gabriel?

  “Faith is needed for you to go forward to tomorrow, never really knowing what the new day will bring. In addition, commitment is essential, to hold true to the journey, you both now pledge to share together. Gabriel, please poise the ring at the end of Dulcina’s third finger of her left hand.”

  When the weight disappeared from her hand, she lifted it and waited.

  With his own hand poised over theirs, Owen glanced at each person in turn. “The Romans believed this particular finger contained a vein that connected directly to the heart, thus further binding the ring in love and fidelity. As Gabriel slides on the ring, I want you both to speak your final pledge by stating, with this ring I thee wed.”

  Her hand trembled, and she couldn’t stop the shaking.

  Gabriel cupped his free hand around her wrist then lifted his gaze to hers.

  Heat swirled through her body as she watched him speak. “With this ring I thee wed.” Their words mingled in unison, but truthfully, she only heard his.