Love and Adventure Collection - Part 2

by Jennifer Blake

  “Ward!” she screamed. “Come back! Come back and let me explain. You can’t do this to me! I won’t stand for it. I’ll kill myself before I do! Do you hear me? I’ll kill myself! Ward!”

  The last word was a cry of torment, a despairing wail. As Serena watched, Pearlie went down on her knees in the snow. Holding her face in her hands, she gave way to racking sobs as she crouched, weaving back and forth like an animal in pain.

  At the sound of footsteps below, Serena turned from the window. When Ward reached the foot of the stairs, she was standing at the top with one hand on the banister. She lifted her chin in an unconscious gesture of defense as she met his eyes, but she could not bring herself to speak.

  He moved toward her with slow steps, pausing halfway up the stairs. “You will be glad to know,” he said, his voice even, “that Otto will never set foot in the Eldorado again.”

  “Yes,” Serena said, though the word was not as strong as she could have wished.

  “As for Pearlie, the partnership has been severed. After today, she will have nothing more to do with the Eldorado, or anyone in it.”

  “I see.”

  “I realize that is no compensation for what has been done to you, but it will, I think, serve to make you understand that it was no will of mine that you leave my rooms or my bed. I am not tired of you, Serena, and I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will be. As for your earning your way, I have the feeling I will be able to keep you busy enough on that score. There is no need for you to exert yourself on the Eldorado’s stage again.”

  “If that’s so,” Serena said slowly, “then why were you so strange about going to Denver? Why were you so determined to leave me here?”

  “If I was strange,” he answered, a wry smile in his eyes, “it was because I didn’t want to go. As for why I left you, it was to be certain I could.”

  Serena looked away. “It seems you proved your point.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, moving slowly up the stairs toward her, “though at a price higher than I am likely to risk again.”

  “Yes, you lost a partner.” Serena stepped away, refusing to accept his meaning.

  He came to a halt beside her, his hands slipping around her waist to draw her nearer. “Will you have it in plain words? You are necessary to me, more necessary than food, or drink, or rest on a freezing night, and I don’t intend to share you with any man.”

  The quick, hard kiss he pressed to her lips before he turned, guiding her back toward their rooms, was a seal to what was, in some ways, a vow. The sense of it was plain enough, and yet there had been no word of love. She did not expect or require it, but there had been a moment when she had thought it might come. It was ridiculous. What use had a gambler for such a soft emotion? He wanted her in his bed, close to hand, and he resented any interference with his desire. That was all.

  “Get your cloak and we’ll find something to eat,” Ward said, pausing outside the door of the sitting room.

  “There’s no need, unless you are especially hungry. I can make bacon and flapjacks, but I’m afraid there’s no butter or syrup.

  She pushed open the door and stepped inside, indicating the table beside the stove that held her meager supply of food.

  “What is this?” Ward stood in the center of the room, his hands resting on his hips.

  “I didn’t relish starving, so I bought myself a few things to eat. I — had no money so I took yours.”

  He turned from surveying the neatly laid-out cheese and crackers and bacon, the bags of flour and beans. “You what?”

  “I took your money,” Serena repeated, her pewter-blue gaze clear. “The change you had in the back of the wardrobe.”

  “And you managed to get all this?”

  He didn’t sound angry. Serena sent him a small, uncertain smile. “I would have liked to buy eggs and coffee, and a coffee pot, but there wasn’t enough.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. No, I could use butter and syrup, as I said, and if I had a Dutch oven I could make biscuits and pot roast—”

  “Hold on! Good heavens, Serena! I feel guilty enough for leaving you alone and destitute without your making it sound as if you haven’t had a decent meal since I’ve been gone.”

  “Oh, I don’t need all that for myself, but if I’m going to cook for you—”

  “You are not. That is,” he went on as the light died out of her face, “I don’t expect you to do that, not with the little you have to work with here.” A smile softened the lean lines of his face. “I’ll admit it would be nice not to have to go out looking for breakfast, or to have somebody banging on the door interrupting our sleep, or whatever we’re doing. But that’s enough. I’ll check on Sanchow. If he’s up to it, he can bring in our evening meal, and if not, I’ll make other arrangements.”

  Serena could see no fault in that plan. “All right.”

  “Right now, as long as we are dressed, I think I would like to have that coffee, and whatever we can find to go with it. I didn’t stop to eat last night, and frankly, I’m starving.”

  Serena nodded, and with a curiously light feeling that bordered on happiness, swung from him, hurrying to fetch her cape. As she pulled the old gray mantle about her shoulders, Ward slanted a quick look at it, then with an impassive expression, held the door for her to pass from the room ahead of him.

  They ate at a German restaurant, consuming hot coffee and warm apple fritters, with side dishes of ham and eggs, all prepared by a German hausfrau with her sleeves rolled well above her pink, dimpled elbows. Replete, they set out for the general store, where they purchased all Serena had outlined, plus a number of other items. They were returning along Myers Avenue when a girl came running toward them along the sidewalk, dressed in a long cloak that flapped open in her haste, revealing the chemise and drawers that were all she wore beneath it.

  It was one of the girls from the Eldorado. Usually brassy and loud, her face was pale and her hair a rat’s-nest tangle. Her voice was a rasp in her throat as she came near them.

  “Mr. Dunbar, oh, Mr. Dunbar. You’ve got to come. Come quick!”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Pearlie. She’s done gone and swallowed a whole box of morphine tablets.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw her doin’ it. You’ve got to do something quick or she’ll die.”

  “I don’t suppose she happened to mention that she would like to see me before she — passes on?”

  “Oh, she did! Yes, she did. She said she wanted to beg you to forgive her before it was too late.”

  “It’s already too late,” Ward said, his voice hard. “If Pearlie let you watch her take her overdose, then she fully meant for you to save her. I suggest that you get a doctor for her; that’s who she needs, not me.”

  “You’re a cruel man to do this to Pearlie,” the girl said, tears starting into her eyes.

  “And she’s a fool to think she can do this to me — nearly as big a one as you are for standing here wasting time.”

  The girl stared at him with hate in her eyes, then with a sound between a snort and a wail, she turned and ran off in the other direction.

  12

  Pearlie did not die. A doctor came, dosed her with an emetic and a purgative, then stripped her to the skin and rubbed her with snow followed by alcohol. Taking advantage of her feeble state, he shut out the other girls of the parlor house for the purpose of giving Pearlie a thorough and probing examination which required the removal of his own clothing. Having made certain that she was sufficiently stimulated, he rendered a statement for his services and went away, leaving Pearlie raging weakly on her pillow.

  At least, that was the way it happened according to Consuelo. The Spanish girl visited Serena within a week of Ward’s return. It was the first time Serena had seen her since that night. Consuelo had not returned to the Eldorado, nor to the parlor house, though she still had friends at the latter place. There was a quiet glow about the other girl as she told Serena
where she had been staying. She had become the mistress of Nathan Benedict. When he had left Serena with Ward that night, he had taken Consuelo to the Continental Hotel. The next day he had leased a small house for her, not a crib but an elegant little four-room house with a front porch, fish-scale woodwork on the sharp gables, and real beveled glass in the front door. They had been down to the Springs, the two of them in his private railroad car, where he had allowed her a free hand in purchasing furnishings. He was generous and kind, was Nathan Benedict, and the Spanish girl had never been so happy, except that sometimes at night, when he held her in his arms, he called her Serena.

  “Oh, Consuelo,” Serena whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  The other girl shook her head, a smile wavering on her lips. “It isn’t your fault, and really, I don’t mind. You — you must come and see me sometime. I will serve you tea from a china cup, real china.”

  “I would like that,” Serena said, “though I would rather not come when Nathan — Mr. Benedict — is there.”

  “That’s easy,” Consuelo said, her rich brown eyes dark. “He only comes at night.”

  Serena thought it best not to repeat what the Spanish girl had said to Ward. It was not that she actually expected him to be jealous, but he had not been on very good terms with his friend since the night he had found Nathan with Serena.

  On the other hand, things between Ward and herself had never gone more smoothly. He spent most of his time with her when he was not downstairs at the gaming tables. They talked of a thousand things, and at night when the stove burned itself out and they retreated from the cold under the covers, they laughed and made love in equal portions. The days and weeks went by, and winter closed in. Serena, complaining of the long days with nothing to do, persuaded Ward to let her buy materials, and needles, and thread, to stitch a dress or two and to make over some of her old things.

  “Must you?” he asked. “I will be glad to buy you another dress, even a dozen more, for wearing in public. But I would rather see you in your wrapper, or nothing at all, when I am here alone with you.”

  “I don’t doubt it. So convenient,” she said, sending him a roguish glance, “but also drafty. And I’m of the opinion the effect would be lost entirely if I were to borrow your union suit.”

  “Yes, I can see how it might.” He gave a mock sigh. “At least I had you where I wanted you for a while.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “I know, and it bothers me. I expect any night to come in and find my wardrobe empty.”

  “I’m not such an idiot as to play into your hands like that! You would enjoy it far too much.”

  “It’s possible. But you, Serena, did you hate it? Was it that bad?”

  She looked away from him, shielding her expression with her lashes. “Not so long as I thought my things were lost.”

  “Your trunk was misplaced for twenty-four hours, if not lost. By the time it turned up after a round trip to Denver, it seemed best to let the situation stay as it was.”

  “Best! For whom?” The blue-gray gaze she turned in his direction was hard.

  “For me. That’s the answer you expected, isn’t it? But also for you. I wasn’t sure that if you had clothes to wear you wouldn’t set out looking for one of those gold millionaires you mentioned.”

  “I have clothes now, including a walking costume you bought me that is quite respectable. What makes you think I won’t do the same thing any day?” Anger at his unflattering estimation of her character lent a challenge to her words.

  “I don’t think it,” he said, his voice rough, “but I can promise you I will do my best to see that you don’t have the opportunity.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “By keeping you so busy,” he said, his tone low as he moved toward her, “that you have no time or thought for that project. Shall I show you how?”

  Despite the abrupt conclusion of their conversation, the subject was not ended between them. It surfaced again before another week had passed. The situation between Serena and Ward had not changed materially. She did not appear upon the stage again, nor wear the gilt-heeled slippers that had been nearly ruined by the snow. She was no longer constricted to the upstairs of the Eldorado, however. Nearly every night she descended to the barroom. Sometimes she stood talking to Timothy or approached the other girls, a new group since Ward had forbidden Pearlie’s parlor-house girls to solicit customers in the Eldorado, for a few minutes of quiet conversation. When not occupied in that way, she stayed close to Ward at the gaming tables for luck, or assumed in a quiet way the role of hostess for the private poker games that sometimes convened in the sitting room. She discovered by degrees that her presence had a quieting effect upon the miners in the barroom. They were unfailingly police to her, stepping aside for her to pass, pulling out a chair for her to sit, quelling any rowdy who might look to be getting out of hand. Still, Ward never left her without his protection. He was always nearby, keeping an eye on her, calling to her to come and stand at his shoulder, or take the chair beside him so he could hold her hand or toy with the shining ringlets that fell over her shoulder.

  It was unusual, then, for him to disappear one night; more unusual still for him to remain out of the room for a long length of time. Serena had not seen him leave. The last she had noticed, he had been talking to Nathan Benedict, and then she had been called backstage where one of the dancers had twisted her ankle.

  It felt peculiar, being in the barroom without Ward near at hand. Not that she was molested in any way, but she was aware of being watched, of sly glances and guffawing laughter from a corner as at some lewd joke, of a man with bloodshot eyes and silica dust in his eyebrows and hair averting his gaze when she glanced in his direction.

  Without hurrying, Serena worked her way around the room to the staircase. So as to prevent any impression of retreat, she climbed the treads with slow grace, pausing now and then to look over the railing.

  In the hallway outside her rooms, she came to a halt. From inside could be heard the sound of low voices. This was where Ward had gone, then. She did not want to intrude on what must be a private conversation; still less did she relish the idea of returning to the barroom.

  Making a decision proved unnecessary. Before she could move the sitting-room door was flung open. Ward, his face dark and his green eyes glittering, stared at Serena a long moment, then stood aside for Nathan to pass from the room.

  “You will let me know what you decide?” Nathan asked, turning back.

  “I’ll do that,” Ward grated.

  Lifting his hat to Serena before fitting it on his head, the other man bade them both a good night, then with a lingering look in Serena’s direction, walked away down the hall.

  Serena stepped through the door Ward still held. “I didn’t know you were up here,” she said over her shoulder.

  “There was a matter Nathan wanted to discuss.” He shut the door and turned with his hand on the knob. “One that, for obvious reasons, he wanted kept quiet.”

  There was a jeering note in his voice, a scathing inflection that seemed to suggest Serena should understand what he

  was saying.

  “Oh?”

  “Come, you can do better than that. You should be more surprised, or at least you should act it.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Your business affairs are no concern of mine.” Serena turned to face him, a puzzled frown between her winged brows.

  “As you know very well, in this case they very much concern you.”

  “If I am supposed to answer that, I’m sorry. I haven’t the least idea what you mean.”

  Ward stared at her. “That really is too much to ask me to believe. I have good reason to know that you haven’t spoken to Nathan in private since I came back, but I thought there might have been a letter, a smuggled note or some such romantic foolishness.”

  “There’s been nothing like that. I don’t know what you are accusing me of, but whate
ver it is, I don’t like it.”

  There was an arrested look in Ward’s eyes. “If Nathan is willing to stake so much on such an off chance, he must be more smitten than I realized. I wish I had known.”

  “Known what? What are you talking about?”

  “Here in this room a few minutes ago, Nathan offered to sign over to me his interest in one of the most promising mining claims in the area, plus a block of shares, a large block, in the corporation that controls his other holdings. The value of what he was willing to give adds up to thousands of dollars, possibly even hundreds of thousands.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Not quite. As you must have guessed, he wants something from me in return.”

  The heavily ironic timbre of his voice grated along Serena’s nerves. “And that is?”

  “He wants me to — to formally sever my relationship with you.”

  “He — what?” Serena felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the chill of the night. She stared at Ward, unable to believe what she had heard.

  “If you are telling the truth, he offered me, without any concrete expectation of having you for himself, a large sum of money to relinquish you. That looks to me as if he feels that you have some attachment to me, though not so much but that he has hopes of winning you, if I can just be persuaded to give you a push in his direction.”

  Serena swallowed. “I see. And what did you say?”

  “I said, my dear Serena, that I would have to think about it.”

  (”What is there to think about?” Serena asked, whirling from him, moving to stand with her hands held out to the nickel-coated grate of the stove with the red glow of coals behind it. “With so much money involved, you don’t dare refuse.”