by Tracey Cross
“He—he came upstairs as a customer.”
“And you played along?”
“Please, Mr. Bedlow. I didn’t know he was going to try to take her out.”
Jane had to do something. Nothing she’d said had made a difference with Vera, but Molly—he couldn’t hurt Molly.
“Trent,” she said softly, “Molly tried to stop him.”
Keeping his fingers closed around Molly’s face, he turned, searching Jane’s eyes for truth. Luckily, he was easy to fool.
“She told him he couldn’t take me out of here. She didn’t want me to get hurt. That’s why she didn’t call for help. She knew he’d have to get past Big George, and that wasn’t going to be possible.”
“I don’t like it. How did he know which room you were in?”
Molly shook violently. “I told him,” she said through distorted lips. “I knew she owed him a debt, and I didn’t want him trying to call in the law.”
“She was protecting you and me, Trent. There’s no need to hurt Molly. She’s stayed with you even when she could have left.”
He stared hard. “All right.” He let go, leaving deep imprints of his abuse. Anger flashed through Jane. He looked at Molly. “Go powder your face and get back to work.”
Molly stumbled through the door. Bedlow turned to Jane. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into changing my mind, Jane. I do care for you more than I have any other woman, but I’m not a fool to be toyed with. If you weren’t pregnant, I’d have already gotten what I want from you, one way or another. And don’t think you’re going to get your debt to me paid off anytime soon. Trust me, you’ll be here for a long time.”
Leveling her gaze at him, Jane kept her tone even. “I know.”
He nodded and walked toward the door. Fear clutched Jane’s heart. Was he going to take the baby too? Taking Danny was torturous and cruel beyond reason, but taking both Danny and the baby, who would need her, seemed more than she could bear. Would she be able to stand strong against his advances if he had both of her children?
Chapter Eleven
Early August
The clanging of the cowbell over the door was a welcome intrusion against the tedium of balancing his books. Franklin glanced up, squinting in the blinding glare of the sun. He blinked and made out a small figure hesitating in the doorway. Probably one of the miners’ youngsters. Why folks would bring families to this godforsaken place was a mystery to him.
The little girl took a couple of steps, then stopped and stared at him from across the room. She looked to be around eleven or twelve. Blond hair hung in long braids in front of her shoulders.
She made no move to come any farther, so he smiled at her and motioned for her to come to the counter. “Hello, young lady. May I help you with something?”
“Would it be all right if I look around first?”
“Of course. You’re a customer.”
Her lip quivered and almost smiled, then she turned and began to move among the merchandise, not touching anything but stopping every now and then to look at an object.
She wrinkled her nose as she passed a shelf containing ammonia. Franklin chuckled under his breath. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she walked over to a ready-made dress hanging for display. It was blue with white lace trim on the sleeves and around the collar. Fascinated, he watched her reach out and touch it, then jerk her hand back, putting it behind her back. She stood staring at the garment, then glanced down at her own dress. For the first time, Franklin took notice of what she was wearing. Her faded calico dress was much too short, the hem grazing just below the knees—much too short for decency, especially for a girl who was soon to become a young lady. The bodice strained across a budding figure. Sympathy shot through Franklin, and he averted his eyes.
She swallowed and licked her lips, then began to look around the store again, her movements slow.
The bell rang, and a couple of roughnecks from the saloon shoved through the door. The girl ducked behind a tall pine chest and froze.
“Howdy. Need me a plug of tobacca.” Charles Piper, one of the miners who spent more time in the saloon than working his claim, had obviously been drinking for some time by the slurring of his words. He and his friend staggered to the counter.
Franklin cut a plug of tobacco and handed it to the man, who struggled to reach into his pocket. Finally he dropped some coins on the counter, and both men stumbled out, to Franklin’s relief.
The girl still stood behind the chest. What had she been through to put that kind of fear in her? Surely her father would have protected her from the rough miners they came across.
“They’re gone now. You can come out.”
She peeked around the chest, then slowly abandoned her hiding place, fear still on her face and her hands trembling.
“I think those two may have spent a little too much time celebrating, don’t you?” he asked lightly.
She nodded and stepped up to the counter. “My pa sent me to get some coffee and cornmeal. You got any?”
“Sure do. Say, weren’t you in here with your pa a few months ago?”
“Yes, sir. When we first came to town, we stocked up here.” She cleared her throat nervously.
“Oh yes, I remember. Your pa’s a miner, isn’t he?” He remembered them clearly now. The tall, balding man, who watched his daughter closely through bespectacled eyes, as though afraid she’d vanish in front of his eyes. He’d looked more like a schoolteacher than a miner.
She nodded. “Could I have that cornmeal and coffee now? I need to get back to the claim.”
He frowned. “You didn’t come into town by yourself, did you?”
“Yes, sir. Pa struck gold and didn’t want to leave the claim.” A stricken look crossed her face. Franklin understood. Her pa had probably told her not to mention the strike. People had been murdered over gold strikes before.
“That was a very good idea. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice sounded weak. She swayed, then righted herself.
“Hey, now, are you ill?” He hurried around the counter and took her by the arm, steadying her. As his hand brushed hers, he could feel the heat from her skin. He reached up and placed a hand on her forehead.
She jerked away. “I’m fine. Could I have those supp—” She swayed again, then fell against him.
“Casey!” he shouted. His apprentice ran out from the supply room. “Bring the buggy around front for me, then go fetch the doctor. Tell him I have a sick child at my house, then get back here and mind the store till I get back.”
Casey stared at the girl, his mouth hanging open.
“Get going.”
“Yes, sir.” Casey ran towards the back door.
By the time Franklin had lifted the child in his arms and carried her out, the buggy was waiting, and Casey was headed down the street.
The girl stirred as he propped her up against the door of the buggy. He patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. Lie back and rest.” He hurried around and climbed in, flicking the reins.
Huan came running as Franklin pushed through the front door with the girl in his arms. For a moment, surprise crossed his face, then all emotion was erased, and he came forward to take the child from Franklin’s arms.
“Put her in the blue room and bring some water.”
Huan complied, and Franklin sat next to the bed, holding the girl’s small hand in his. He hadn’t realized how tiny she was until he’d lifted her in his arms at the store. Now he could feel the tiny, fragile bones in her hand.
He closed his eyes. Lord, please don’t let this be anything serious. She’s so young.
The front door slammed, and footsteps hurried across the hardwood floor of the foyer. Franklin jumped up as Doc White entered the room.
“What’s this, Lloyd? Where’d you pick up this one?” The doctor stared down at the still form, impatience in his cold eyes. “A little young for you, isn’t she?”
Sickened at the man�
�s inference, Franklin took a deep breath. Everyone knew the doctor was another of Bedlow’s toadies. It would be like him to refuse to treat her, if Franklin said anything. “The girl is one of the miner’s daughters. She collapsed at the store.”
“Hmm.” He lifted the girl’s limp wrist and felt her pulse, then reached for his bag. He moved the stethoscope across her chest, listening in several places.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she shot straight up. “What are you doing? Get away from me.”
The stethoscope went flying and Doc White cursed.
Franklin shot him a look while turning to the girl. “Honey, you fainted at the store. This is Doctor White. He’s just examining you to see what caused it.”
Her eyes darted from Franklin to the doctor, and she dropped back against the pillows.
“How long since you’ve eaten, girl?” the doctor asked gruffly, placing his instruments back in the bag.
She licked her dry lips and ducked her head. “We ran out of flour a few days ago. There hasn’t been much to eat ’ceptin’ a little dried deer meat.”
The doctor threw a bored glance at Franklin. “Well, there you have it. Feed her and let her rest a day or two.”
“I can’t stay here. Pa’s expecting me back with the supplies.” She sat up again, then moaned and lay back down.
The doctor shrugged. Franklin paid him quickly, and Huan ushered the man out of the room. He turned at the door and stared at the girl, his eyes narrowed. With a glance in Franklin’s direction, he left.
Franklin turned his attention to the patient. “How about if I send Huan with the supplies and a message explaining what happened? Does your pa read?”
“Of course Pa can read.” An indignant frown crossed her face. “My pa’s about the smartest man from Denver to Deadwood.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He held his hand out. “I’m Franklin Lloyd. And you are?”
She took his hand and shook it. “Jenny Ames. Nice to meet you.”
“Well, Jenny Ames, how about if I write a letter to your pa, and you can add a few words at the end, if you feel up to it? Then, tomorrow or the next day, I’ll take you home.”
“Hey, where’s my horse? Pa’d be real upset if anything happened to Canyon.”
“Canyon is enjoying a nice meal in my stable with my horse, Tryst. And you need to do the same. How does chicken soup and a biscuit sound?”
“Really? I haven’t had chicken since we left Denver.” Her tongue darted across her lips.
Something stirred in Franklin. She looked so vulnerable lying there. He’d feed her all right. And maybe he could do a little more.
Jane sat in front of the vanity, staring critically at herself in the mirror. It had been over two weeks since the incident with Vera, and the bruises beneath her eyes had lightened to a light purple and green.
She looked and felt hideous. Still, Mr. Bedlow had ordered her out of bed and out of the room today. She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty for even having a room instead of the storeroom, but thinking about Vera in pain and sleeping on the hard, narrow cot knotted her stomach.
A week after the beating, Vera had finally been allowed to emerge—her face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. She held her sides when she walked, and rumor had it that she had suffered several broken ribs. Her eyes still looked upon Jane with hatred, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Jane stayed away from her. She saw no reason to encourage something that might get the other woman harmed again, but she had asked Big George to please keep an eye on Vera and make sure she was getting enough to eat. And to be extra careful not to allow customers that wouldn’t care about her injuries, for Bedlow had put her back to work the day after Franklin had come to the saloon. The men didn’t care about her face. They only cared about her body, and Vera did her best to pretend nothing had changed. But she could barely move. Jane could only imagine the pain she endured each night.
Bedlow was deaf to her pleas, and finally Jane accepted the inevitable. She would not be able to help Vera through Bedlow. But perhaps George could at least look out for her. And he had promised that he would.
Molly peeked in. “Are you ready? He’s getting antsy.”
“For heaven’s sake, I’m coming. I vow, I’ve never seen a man so sadistic as to want to watch a woman scrub his filthy floors.”
“Just hurry.”
Jane walked to the door to find Mr. Bedlow at the top of the steps waiting for her. He smiled broadly. “It’s good to see you back on your feet, Mrs. Albright.”
Mrs. Albright? He hadn’t called her that in a while. George grinned when he stepped aside. Bedlow offered his arm, which she took, and they walked down the steps and to the front door.
“Where are you taking me, Mr. Bedlow?”
“I thought you were going to call me Trent from now on.”
“You called me Mrs. Albright. I thought we were back to propriety.”
“I was merely trying to be gallant.” He chuckled as they stepped out into the bright early July day. The morning breeze still carried a bit of cool with it, but Jane knew by midday, the sun would claim its rightful place high above Deadwood and beat down mercilessly.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. You’ll see.” He led her across the street and stopped in front of the general store. “I have a surprise for you.”
Dread rose, bitter in her mouth. Bedlow did no favors without demanding a high price in return. “Oh?”
“Don’t look so frightened.” By his wry tone she knew he had read her thoughts. Disconcerting. She wanted a man who would know her well. Someone who knew when she was hurting, angry, or needed to be held. Molly believed he had softened considerably since Jane’s arrival at the saloon. The girls seemed less tense; they fought less.
“I’m not scared. It’s just that I can’t fathom what you might be thinking.”
“I am sending you to the general store to work until your baby’s born.” He cut a glance to her. “In other words, no more scrubbing the saloon.”
Jane wanted to respond properly. She knew responding improperly could mean he changed his mind. “Thank you.”
The simple reply brought about a scowl. “Well, if I can’t interest you in the general store, perhaps the playhouse.”
The playhouse hosted bawdy shows with music and dancing around the clock. And Bedlow owned Bedlow’s Playhouse as well. To the young women at the saloon, a move to the playhouse was a step up. But Bedlow knew Jane would be mortified with the move. And this wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up.
She smiled. “I’m very happy to move from the saloon to the general store, Trent.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
Her efforts appeased him, and he covered her hand with his. “The general store needs a woman’s touch. A good woman. If you ever come to your senses, part of this could be yours—and maybe Danny’s someday.”
“But our agreement is that I am working to pay off a debt.” Jane’s stomach clenched tightly. “Shouldn’t that be paid soon?”
His eyebrows shot up as though he’d forgotten about her debt. She had suspected more than once that he had no intention of ever letting her go.
“I want you, Jane. How much clearer do I have to be?”
“You’re quite clear. And how much clearer do I have to be that I’m not one of your saloon girls?”
“I never thought you were. You can come home with me today. My promise stands not to touch you until your baby is born and you’re recovered.”
“Please, Trent,” she whispered. “I’m never going to willingly spend one night under your roof.”
“You want your baby to live in a saloon?” He smiled, knowing what her answer would be.
Jane placed her hand on her stomach. It wouldn’t be long now before the new little life entered the world. She had no doubt that Trent would make good on his threat to take her to his home in order for her to “recover” from childbirth. And because he had Danny in hi
s grip, she would go and pretend that he didn’t have plans for her once her body healed.
“If you’re waiting for Frank to come back and try to rescue you again, you might as well put that dream behind you. I hear he took your rejection to heart.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she sensed he needed no encouragement to elaborate.
He gave a short laugh. “It seems the pure Mr. Franklin has moved a girl in with him.”
Jane drew in a quick, cool breath. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“You think I’m lying?” His eyebrow rose. “Honey, Doc White saw her with his own eyes. He was called out there to doctor her. Said Frank hovered over her like a brand-new bridegroom, only without the wedding. Lovesick.”
Jane shoved aside the image but could do nothing about the slicing pain that bled her heart. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing there was never anything between us besides business.” She ventured a tight smile at Bedlow. “Just like you and me. Only business.”
Rather than be upset, he bent and his lips grazed her cheek, his moustache tickling her skin. “You might just change your mind.” He opened the door and nudged her inside ahead of him.
“Don’t count—”
In the middle of the floor stood Danny. “Oh,” she said, her legs suddenly melting to nothing, her stomach turning over. She dropped to her knees and held out her arms.
“Ma!” Danny ran full force and practically tackled her, but she didn’t care. She pulled him tight, even as his arms about her neck nearly strangled her.
He smelled of sunshine and summer. His face was tanned, so she knew he must have been allowed outdoors, which was so important for a little boy.
Pulling back, she studied him. “Let me look at you.”
His little eyes perused her face, and he frowned. He reached out and touched her bruises. “What happened?”
Forcing a laugh, she ruffled his unruly hair. “Would you believe I got hit right in the forehead? I even had to get the doctor to sew up my head.”
His eyes grew even wider. “Can I see?”