They shot then, neither mentioning the pain from their pasts. Em missed completely the first three times, but on her fourth shot she put a hole in the bandanna. By her tenth shot she was hitting it consistently. And she was enjoying doing so.
“Are you ready for another competition?”
“Is that what you and your brothers did? Compete all the time?” She took a seat in the sweet-smelling grass, picturing four boys that all looked like Caleb running around together.
“We sure did.” Then he told her about the time he and his brothers competed to see who could walk the farthest on the fence around the pigpen, which resulted in a severe scolding from their mother. There was the time they competed to eat the pies they had stolen from their mother the fastest, which resulted in no dinner for any of them. He went on laughing as he told stories about the mischief and competition he had shared with his brothers.
“So, Em, you can see I have a long history of competing and just as long a history of losing. Being the youngest son was a hard position to be in. And now I have found a friend willing to compete with me, and the best part is I stand a fair chance at winning. I need some wins after all those years of losing, don’t you think?” He was sitting beside her on the grass now, his hands casually resting on his bent knees.
What fun it must have been to have all those brothers. “I will compete and likely I’ll lose,” she said. “I did just learn to shoot. Someday I’ll win, though, at something.”
“Unlikely, but I like your spirit.”
“Just you wait, Caleb Reynolds. I’m past due for a victory myself. I’ll win something, someday.”
“You sound mighty confident.” He stood and pulled her up from the ground. “We will each shoot five times and whoever hits the bandanna the most wins. Simple?”
Em scrunched up her face. “But you must shoot from farther away.”
“I suppose that’s fair. The loser gets more questions?”
He didn’t sound serious. But just to be sure, Em said, “No. No more questions. Unless I win—then I get to ask you questions.”
“You think you get to decide all the rules, do you?”
“If you will let me.”
“Of course I won’t. If you win, you may ask me three questions. If I win, you . . . hmmmm . . . you must come to the social. It’s in two weeks and I know you’re planning on hiding out somewhere, but you would have to come. No matter what.”
What Caleb didn’t know was that Abigail had already insisted she attend the social and Em had not known how to say no.
“I suppose I could agree to that,” Em said, making it sound as though it were a big price to pay. “If you insist.”
Reaching a strong hand toward her, he said, “Shake on it?”
Her hand felt lost in his. All too soon he let go and then they shot. He went first, hitting the bandanna all five times. She hit it four times.
“Let’s hope you shoot that well if Mr. Redhead-No-Front-Tooth returns. You’re a fast learner. You had me worried for a moment. I was afraid you’d pull off a victory. I did win though. Looks like you will get to meet everyone at the social.” She made a face at him. He elbowed her. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Em rolled her eyes. He seemed to enjoy her company well enough, but that didn’t mean everyone would. The thought of the social made her skin crawl and her stomach queasy. “I won’t enjoy it a bit.”
“Just you wait. I’ll introduce you to everyone. It’ll be like a coming out party for you.”
She shook her head. She wasn’t the type of girl to have a coming out party, not before and not now. “I’ll go. I’ll keep my word, but I won’t like it.”
Back on Amos, they started for the Howells’. The sun was setting, painting the sky with oranges and pinks as it went. They rode in content silence, lost in the beauty of the evening.
After stopping Amos in front of the house, Caleb jumped down, turned, and reached for her. When her feet hit the ground, he left a hand on the side of her waist that was not tender. “I’ll be gone early, before the house is up and moving. Be careful while I’m away.”
“I will. I’ll be careful . . . don’t . . . don’t worry about me. You be careful too.” The feel of his hand distracted her. “Thank you . . . for teaching me to shoot.”
He let go and she felt colder. She’d known Caleb for only two weeks, but already he was one of the dearest friends she’d ever had. Being near him did something to her. Something she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.
She knew he didn’t find her attractive—he’d as good as called her plain. Never had she expected him or anyone else to be attracted to her. Had she been elegant and graceful, she would not have ridden the train for so long. Someone would have wanted her. She knew she was still that same girl. Caleb was kind, though, and he made her laugh and feel young and carefree.
A horse needed caring for and Em needed to go inside. Yet neither of them moved. When the silence grew longer, he took one step closer and ran the tip of his finger over her cheekbone. “Keep eating whatever Abigail puts in front of you.”
Then he walked Amos back toward the Howells’ barn. Em stood alone, listening to the sound of him leaving, her face warm where he’d touched her. Putting a hand to her cheek, she savored the moment. So rarely had she been touched or held. The smallest acts seemed to send life rushing through her. Smiling into the darkness, she felt the happiness of the moment seep into her very soul.
Eight
Abigail had taught Em to curl her hair in the latest fashion during her slow days of recovery. Now, with the doctor’s permission, Em was ready to find a job. He’d been pleased with her progress—amazed, even, at the swiftness of it. Today was the first day Em had fixed her hair all by herself. Inspecting her work in the little mirror, she was pleased with what she saw. She was not a striking beauty like Eliza, but she did not see the same plain girl she had viewed only weeks ago. Little curls framed Em’s face under the borrowed red bonnet. Never had she felt this close to beautiful. Hopefully the difference in her appearance would help her find a job.
The prospect of venturing into town on her own had her wringing her hands together and biting her lip. Lifting the layer of cloth in the bottom of her basket to take a peek, she reassured herself that the pistol Caleb had loaned her would be going with her. How kind it had been of him to leave it.
“Abigail,” Em said, stepping into the front room, “I plan to stop at the dressmaker’s and see if she needs any help. I’ll also try at the hotel and with Mrs. Norbert. Can you think of any others who may need me?” Em fidgeted with the bonnet’s bow, tying and then retying it.
Abigail stopped braiding Mae’s hair. “Oh, look at you, Em. Your hair turned out so well.” Em had never worried about the sin of vanity until that very moment. Putting her hands to her cheeks, she felt heat rise to them. Despite the looming threat of three murderous bandits, she was happy. She fought to hide a smile.
“Abraham said there were no jobs posted on the store’s board. That would have been my first suggestion,” Abigail said. “Margaret may hire help with the meals at the boardinghouse. Her daughter just married and moved away, leaving the burden all on her. You may want to check there. I’ll keep thinking and asking around. Something will turn up for you.”
“Thank you, Abigail. Mae, you look beautiful. I think your hair has grown—soon it will be as long as Rapunzel’s.” She bent and kissed the ecstatic girl on the cheek. Mae quickly wrapped her arms around Em’s neck and hugged her tight. Those little arms had no idea the joy they were giving her.
“If you do get a job, will you still have time to tell me and Milly stories?” Mae asked, holding her tight.
“Of course I will. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day. I’ll see you later, little Mae-berry.” The arms released her, but the warmth they had brought her went with her as she headed into town.
“Oh, miss, I’m sorry to tell you, but business is slow enough that I don’t need any more help right now
. You’re welcome to check back with me another time if you’d like,” the spinster dressmaker, Miss Caroline, said.
Em masked her disappointment the best she could and thanked her for her time. She admired the beautiful dresses as she made her way to the door. Abigail had told her that Miss Caroline made most of the dresses when a request came in, but she always kept a few premade dresses on hand. To think Em had owned only one ragged dress and here was a shop full of fine cloth, lace, and gowns. It would have been a joy working around so many fine things, but it was not to be.
Miss Caroline had smiled at her sweetly, but behind her eyes Em sensed sadness. In a few years, when she was Miss Caroline’s age, would her eyes be lonely and sad too? Long ago she’d accepted her fate. She knew she’d become a spinster, an independent woman. Today the thought made her feel heavy.
But right now finding a job was what mattered, so Em hurried toward the hotel. Women working in the front of a hotel was unconventional, but there was a chance. Before pushing open the heavy door, Em adjusted her dress and straightened her bonnet. She hoped she appeared confident as she stood tall and walked into the hotel.
“Hello, sir. I’ve come to see if you needed any help. I was told you were short a front office worker.” Em’s voice quivered slightly as she spoke. Imitating Eliza, she smiled at the man behind the front desk. “I’m looking for work and I know I could learn the job. You wouldn’t be sorry.”
Without speaking, the man looked her over. His eyes crept up and down her slowly. Any confidence she had mustered upon entering the hotel was leaving with haste. When he finally spoke, his deep voice seemed to bounce off the walls, carry through the building, and rumble out onto the street. “We don’t hire women, and we especially don’t hire little girls. Now get on out of here.”
Em knew she should turn and go, ignore the man’s heated words, but anger boiled in her. “I am not a little girl, sir. I am a woman, that much is true. But I can work just as hard as any man. You have no right to talk to me so or to look at me with eyes like a snake.”
“I’ll talk to you however I wish. This here is my property and I said I don’t hire no girls. Get on out of here before I pick you up like some mangy dog and throw you out.”
Just then a man walked in from the street. “Everything all right in here, Pete?”
Em turned toward the stranger. “Your friend Pete needs help in the front of his hotel. But not from me or any other girl.” Face hot with frustration, she turned to leave.
“Wait.” The strange man grabbed her arm. “You looking for work? It might be your lucky day.” He flashed a dashing smile at her, his perfect teeth twinkling. “Come with me. I might know of just the job for you.”
Em let the man take her arm in his and lead her out, away from Pete and his temper. Her curiosity grew with each step. Who was this man? Pete’s wicked laughter boomed behind them as they walked. Was he laughing at her? The nerve. Safely out of range of the laughter, she realized how close she was to her rescuer. She pulled away, putting space between them.
When the pair had rounded a corner, the stranger gently turned Em to face him. “I’m Silas. I’ve been looking all over for a beautiful woman just like you. I’m desperate for some help. A beautiful, hard worker. That’s what I’m after. You interested? I think you’d be mighty good at it.”
Something deep inside her stomach twisted and turned. She had always longed to have a man call her beautiful. Hearing it now was nothing like she had expected. Why did she feel uneasy? Alarms sounded within her, but she wanted a job. She needed a job. Money meant Beckford. Money meant Lucy. Learning more couldn’t hurt. After all, it wasn’t every day that a job came so easily—she needed to at least see what this perfect job was.
“I’m interested. I’d like to know more about the job first before I give you an answer.” Em inched a bit farther from the man.
He took a step toward her, closing the gap. “It’s a job that takes the kind of spirit I saw back there with Pete. That was really something—you had fire in your eyes. No one does well working for me if they don’t have a little spunk. The job’s next door at the saloon.” She jumped back, ready to reject him. Ready to turn and go. Again he stepped toward her. “Wait a second. I know what you’re thinking. Saloons aren’t all bad though. Lots of nice folks come in. All they want is a drink to cool themselves off. Most people aren’t looking for any trouble. Someone has to serve them. Why not you?”
Why not me? Why not me? Because my mama would be heartbroken if she were alive and knew I was working at a saloon.
The dreaded saloon, with its dark exterior, was mere feet from them. Silas took her arm again and nudged her toward the swinging doors. Into the dim interior she stepped—cigar smoke filling her lungs, laughter accosting her ears. Not the joyful laughter she treasured from Mae and Millicent, but a different kind. A low, crude laughter.
Silas’s hand was tight around her arm. “We pay well, and should you ever choose to, we offer more for working upstairs. But we don’t need to worry about that now. Let me show you around.”
As they walked farther into the dark saloon, she was able to make out the faces of a few of the morning customers. Silas’s buttery voice sent a shiver down her spine. “It gets busier in the evenings and at night. You’ll work then.”
One of the men stood on wobbly legs. “Where you get that girl from? I ain’t seen her before.” He stepped near her. His eyes crept over her, inspecting her, leering at her. “Have I been drinking too much or is she the ugliest one you ever brought in here?” The man chuckled. “Where’d you find that one?”
“You been here all night, Bert. Sit down,” Silas said in a friendly voice.
Bert ignored the suggestion. Instead, he reached out and put a hand on Em’s shoulder and moved his thumb back and forth along her collarbone. His mouth inches from hers, he laughed in her face. Nauseous from the smell of the man or perhaps the terrible circumstances, Em yearned for fresh air.
“I’m sorry, Silas. This isn’t the job for me.” She pushed the man’s hand from her and stepped away.
Silas reached again and wrapped his hand tightly around her wrist. “Ignore him. You are perfect for the job. We’ll get you a fancy dress and the girls upstairs will show you how to paint your face so the men won’t think you’re so plain. In fact, it won’t be long before they are begging for your attention. You’ll love it. The men always get excited about a new girl. You’ll have more men after you than ever before.” He ran his hand up and down her arm. The touch of his fingers only made her desire to leave grow stronger. “We get all kinds of men through here. There’ll be plenty that’ll like you when you’re all dolled up.”
Em had lived on the streets for months. She’d seen horrors she’d never wanted to see. All too clearly she knew what Silas was insinuating. Her ma had taught her better than that, and she would not choose this life. She’d find another way. Somehow she would.
She swatted Silas’s hand from her wrist like it was an unwanted pest. Then, planting both palms on his chest, she shoved him as hard as she could. Because she was so small, she could tell he hadn’t expected the force. He took a few steps backward before crashing into a chair and toppling over it. The men at the bar roared with laughter as Em dashed for the door.
Once freed from the saloon, Em allowed the fresh air to fill her lungs. Leaning against the outer wall, she waited as her racing heartbeat slowed. All the while her mind was reeling. How dare they? And then the depressing thought, Why did I think it would be any different?
With a heavy heart, she walked away from the filthy establishment. The man’s words replayed over and over in her head. “The ugliest one,” he’d called her. Had it been the liquor talking? She wanted to believe so, but she found herself wondering if he had been right. It was one thing to never have a man love her, but what if no one would even want to give her a job? Would the saloon be her only option? Feeling as though she was at a crossroads, she stopped walking. Should she quit or fight on?
Quitting was not an option. She would persevere—she had to. A job was what she was after, and somehow she would find one. For Lucy she would press on. Standing ever taller, she held her head high as she walked down the main street of the small town.
Mrs. Norbert and the boardinghouse were the only two remaining job prospects. Earlier in the week, Doc Jones had suggested she talk to Mrs. Norbert because of the woman’s poor health and horrible children. Em hadn’t met her children, but Abigail had politely told her they were unruly, while Eliza had classified them as horrible. In fact, she had called them “detestable” and “undeniably the worst children in town.”
Which should she try first? Having little experience with unruly children, she decided to go to the boardinghouse.
Standing two stories tall, it was easy to locate. A widow named Margaret Anders owned the building.
Em had never met her, but she’d heard of the woman. Eliza called her eccentric. “Who else would paint a building on Main Street such a horrid shade of yellow?” Eliza had said. “Honestly, the building is brighter than a sunflower. She’s so peculiar.”
The more Eliza had said about Margaret, the more Em had wanted to meet her. The door of the boardinghouse was red. Bright red. Em walked to the door and offered one last silent prayer heavenward before knocking. Let this be my route to Beckford, she prayed.
Knock. Wait. Knock again. At last the door groaned open. Standing before Em was a woman who had to be the notorious Margaret Anders. Her dress was as outrageous as her house—bright pink trimmed in deep purple. Her hair was wildly curly. At some point in the morning she must have pinned it up, but now at least half of it was outside the pins. Tight brown curls soared in all directions.
“Don’t tell me who you are. I believe I know. You must be the local stray! I’ve been wanting to meet you.” Mischief or something similar to that twinkled in her eyes. “Come in. Come in.”
The Hope of Azure Springs Page 9