Megan sighed. “Why are you here, McMurphy?”
Ian’s gaze had wandered past her and focused on the dance hall. He seemed not to have heard her and Megan called his name, none too softly.
The big man’s attention returned to her momentarily. “Just thought I’d be neighborly.” He straightened his shirt and swept the coarse, black hair from his eyes. “Um—aah—might you know where Queen is?”
So, that’s the way of it, Megan thought, suppressing a smile. She marveled every night over Queen’s undeniable allure to the opposite sex.
“She’s in back. You’re welcome to pay your dollar like the rest of them, Ian.”
Without further comment, Ian McMurphy strode from the room into the fading strains of a violin’s song. After a moment’s thought, Megan followed him. As she’d expected, Queen was surrounded by men requesting her first dance. For such a large woman she was surprisingly agile, and her personality drew men like flies to melted sugar.
At Ian’s approach, the crowd of admirers parted. When he waved a fistful of dollars in their faces, the men retreated. Megan had to smile when she saw Queen’s chagrin. Nevertheless, she snatched Ian’s money, placing it carefully in her bodice before he swept her onto the dance floor.
They were deep in conversation, and Queen looked fit to be tied. Her mouth opened and closed quickly with her tirade, but Ian merely smiled at her fondly. He was obviously besotted with the dancer. If Megan didn’t miss her guess, The Celebration would be short its most profitable employee within the year. Despite her distaste for McMurphy, she hoped Queen would find happiness.
For the past month Alex Carson’s life had been a mesh of days without sleep, meals on the run, and constant duty. But tonight, things had gone quiet and he was going to The Celebration to see Megan.
Stepping from the brisk August air into the subdued warmth of the building, he saw her immediately. She wore one of her “Meggie gowns,” as he thought of them, her hair loose and curling, held back from her face with a purple ribbon. His fingers itched to yank the bit of fabric from her red-gold tresses and taste her mouth until the torment in his body ceased.
She looked up and saw him then, and for a moment the look on her face said she felt the same as he. Then the mask she wore with all the customers slid into place, and she came forward with a practiced smile. “Lieutenant, what brings you here? I thought you were patrolling another portion of Dawson City this month?”
“I’m not on duty.”
The fresh lemon fragrance surrounding her caused the usual response in him. Silently he cursed his treacherous body and strove to keep his thoughts from showing on his face. Taking Megan’s arm, he led her to an empty table at the back of the saloon. The customers and her employees watched, but he ignored them all.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Certainly.” She moved closer. “Have you found out anything more?”
When she leaned over, her low-cut dress presented him with a view of her breasts he hadn’t previously been privy to. He stared, then stuttered, his mind a blank. “M-more about what?”
Megan noticed where his eyes were focused and sat up abruptly, frowning. “About my father, your sister, the claim—anything at all?”
Alex cleared his throat and glanced around the room. Several pairs of curious eyes shifted their focus upon encountering his gaze. Returning his attention to Megan, he said, “I haven’t had much time to question anyone. How about you?”
“Nothing new here, either. Queen insists she knows nothing, as do the other girls. I talked with Zechariah, but last year is a blur to him.”
Alex sighed in frustration. “I have one more person I need to question, but that may be a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because this person and I don’t care much for one another, to put it mildly.”
Alex’s attention was caught by a flurry of movement in the doorway. Big Ian McMurphy ducked and entered the front bar.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured.
Megan followed his gaze. “Ian? You think he might know something?”
“I intend to find out.” Alex stood and placed himself directly in Ian’s path.
Ian walked with his head down, mumbling angrily to himself. “Damn, blasted, woman. What the hell I see in her, I’ll never know.”
“McMurphy.”
The big man’s shaggy head came up and he scowled at Alex. “Not now.” He attempted to push past.
“Now. I have a few questions and you’ve been avoiding me.”
Ian continued to scowl, but Alex stood his ground and pointed to a nearby table. With a growl, McMurphy threw himself into a chair. “Make it quick.”
Alex glanced at Megan, who hovered about, and jerked his head for her to retreat. She did, though with obvious reluctance. He didn’t want Ian to think anyone was listening to their conversation. People talked more freely if they thought their words were confidential, and Alex needed all the help he could get with this man.
“You came to Dawson City around the same time as Brian Daily.”
“So?” Ian’s voice was belligerent.
“Did Daily arrive with a woman?”
“I wasn’t here when he arrived. Didn’t meet him till he opened this place a few weeks later. Why?”
Alex ignored the question and posed another of his own. “Did you ever meet Joanna Carson?”
“Who? Never heard of her.”
“She was a singer here. Called herself Sweet Josie.”
“Oh, her. Killed herself, didn’t she?”
Alex was immediately alert. Very few people in Dawson City paid attention to the lives and deaths of the women on Paradise Alley. Ian seemed to know more than most. Covering his excitement, he answered, “Yes. Did you know her?”
“Not personally, if you know what I mean.” Ian raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Alex fought the urge to lunge across the table and choke the man. “I was told you came in here quite a bit when the place first opened. That you and Brian played a lot of poker.”
“So, what’s the crime in that? Brian was good company.”
“Did he ever mention being involved with Joanna?”
“Josie?” Ian’s brow creased with the effort of thought. “Now that you mention it, he was kind of partial to her. Bought her little presents all the time and talked sweet, ya know?”
Alex was silent for a moment, strangely sad at the further confirmation of his belief He had found himself hoping recently that Brian Daily was not involved in Joanna’s death.
“Anything else, Carson?” McMurphy stood.
“Not at the moment But I’ll want to talk to you again.”
“If you can corner me.” Ian left the dance hall laughing.
Megan took the vacated seat. “What did he say?” Hope brightened her eyes.
The hope did him in. She truly loved her father; and though Alex thought Brian Daily the worst type of scoundrel, he didn’t have the heart to hurt Megan with what he’d learned.
“The trail is cold. I can’t do anything more.” He rose, planning to make his exit before Megan saw through his lie.
Before he moved a foot, she took his arm and spun him around angrily. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t know her, Megan.”
“You’re lying. He said my father was involved with your sister, didn’t he? You still think he abandoned her and the baby.” She shook his arm, fingernails digging into his flesh. “Believe what you wish. If you can’t prove he left her, I’ll prove he didn’t.”
She exited the room in a flurry of velvet, petticoats rustling with indignation. Alex had no doubt she would try to prove him wrong. He hoped, for both their sakes, she could.
CHAPTER TEN
The following day, the streets of Dawson City were lined with people. An early snowfall had arrived several days before, dusting the ground with just enough of the white powder to make a sled dog race possible. The crowd’s mood was festive as they waited for
the dog team race of the year to begin.
Ian McMurphy and Jerry Stone each owned a prize team of sled dogs. Since a single dog cost as much as three-hundred-and-fifty dollars, a year’s wages for a man in the states, it was a measure of the two men’s wealth that each owned an entire troupe. For months, each had boasted that his team was the fastest and strongest. The time had come to find out. The race was set for a Sunday so all the sporting folk could watch and gamble on their day off.
The Northwest Mounted Police were not amused. They had threatened to arrest those involved if any such race occurred on the Lord’s day. Ian and Jerry were willing to take that chance. Jerry had bet his dance hall while Ian was throwing his largest saloon into the pot.
Megan fastened a cloak around her shoulders, took one last look in her mirror, then shrugged. She spent at least an hour on her appearance each day before leaving her room. For a woman who had never done more than twist her hair into a bun and wash her face, such frivolity had fast become onerous. But she had learned that appearance was more than half the game, and she played the game well, though the longing for a simpler time, a simpler self, never left her.
Earlier that morning, Queen had relayed a message from Ian requesting that Megan drop the handkerchief to start the race. Knowing her visibility in front of crowds was good for business, Megan agreed, though she regretted the loss of a day without petticoats, pins, and prying eyes. At the rate life was passing by, she would be an old woman before she had a moment to herself.
A cheer from the crowd outside told her the dog teams were taking their positions. She hurried from the room and through the echoing dance hall, high heels clicking across the wood floors.
Her dancers and bartenders had taken up residence on the porch while waiting for the race to begin. Final bets were placed and the odds favored Ian’s dogs.
Megan declined a chair along with a chance to throw her money away on one of the teams and hurried to the opposite end of Front Street, where Ian awaited her.
“Been waitin’ on ya, little girl,” Ian said impatiently.
“I’m here. Let’s get this over with.”
Craning her neck to see past Ian’s massive form, she viewed several Mounties standing at attention. Her gaze settled on Alex Carson, but he continued to stare ahead, giving no indication he was aware of her regard.
“Been told they’ll arrest everyone involved for gamblin’ on a Sunday,” Ian said. “But the race has to take place before they can do it,” He rubbed his hands together. “By then I’ll be the owner of a dance hall.”
“Do you really think they’ll arrest everyone?” Megan didn’t want to find herself in jail within the hour.
“Nah, they’re just bluffin’, tryin’ to prove who’s in charge.” Ian escorted her to the starting line. “Let’s get to it, Meggie.”
Pulling a white handkerchief from her pocket, Megan held the cloth aloft for a long moment, then released it. A cheer went up from the crowd as the lead dogs lunged forward in response to the whips cracking above their heads.
Megan’s attention was diverted from the race as the line of Mounties moved forward. She backed into the crowd quickly, planning to return to The Celebration before the group could arrest her or anyone else. If she put Damon on guard outside her door, maybe they would leave her alone.
A hand shot through the crush of people and grabbed her arm, jerking her backward. Turning around quickly, she slammed into a red-clad chest with such force the breath flew from her lungs.
“If you have to break the law,” Alex drawled, “the least you could do is be less conspicuous about it.”
Pushing futilely against the hard expanse of him, Megan said, “I didn’t think the Mounties would be so concerned over a little fun. Are you really going to arrest everyone?”
Alex looked down at her and smiled. He rubbed his thumb over her ice-cold cheek and the contact warmed her to her toes.
“Not everyone. That is if I can get you back to your place before anyone sees us.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “You’d do that for me?” He didn’t answer, just pulled her along down a narrow side street. “Won’t someone notice I’m not in jail? I was a bit on display back there.”
“I’m betting the jail will overflow with prisoners, so no one will notice. If they do, they won’t care. Inspector Starnes plans to put all the men to work chopping wood on the Mountie woodpile anyway. They’d just let you go with a tongue-lashing.”
With the townspeople’s attention on the race and the Mounties’ attention on the townspeople, Megan and Alex reached The Celebration without being stopped.
“Do me a favor and stay inside, out of trouble, for the rest of the day. Do you think you can manage that?”
“Certainly.” Alex started to turn away, but Megan put a hand on his arm. “Thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to.”
He covered her fingers with his own. “Yes, I did.”
Megan searched his eyes, but shouts from outside drew Alex’s attention and he looked away before she could interpret what she saw in his gaze.
“I have to go. But I’ll come back tonight and we’ll talk.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Alex gave a short nod and left. Megan shut her door, moving across the room to the window and pushing aside the heavy curtain to look down at the street. Seconds later Alex appeared below, striding purposefully toward the commotion without looking back.
Megan turned her head, pushing her cheek up against the glass window in an effort to get a better view of the crowd. The dogs still raced down the center of the street while the mounted police arrested anyone they could grab from the sidelines. Those not being accosted by an officer escaped hurriedly down the side streets and alleys. From Megan’s vantage point they looked like nothing more than ants scurrying for the cover of their anthill. She chuckled at the thought, then realized she would have been one of those ants if not for Alex Carson.
What would he expect from her by way of thanks?
The race was over, but the excitement had only begun. Alex spent the rest of the day dragging people to the mounted police offices where they could be sentenced to their term on the woodpile. He thought the entire exercise a waste of time, but he was trained to follow orders. His conscience twinged on occasion at the thought of how he’d disobeyed orders by helping Megan escape. Such an action was totally out of character for him.
Late in the day, angry words from the office drew Alex’s attention. Recognizing the voice of Ian McMurphy, he hurried inside.
“I’m gonna shoot every one of them animals. Ran like a herd of pregnant moose. Did ya see ‘em?”
Several of the Mounties nodded, obviously having heard this tirade already.
“So, you lost your saloon, McMurphy? I’d say that’s justice, wouldn’t you?”
The big man swung around like an angry bear awakened from a winter sleep. “If you meddlin’ Mounties would mind your own business, life would be a lot simpler in Dawson.”
“Maybe so, but we’re here to stay.” Alex smiled with satisfaction. “How long will we be enjoying your talents on the woodpile, Ian?”
A growl of rage shook the room; and before he could react, Alex lay on his back with Big Ian straddling his waist. “You’re more trouble than that scrawny sister of yours ever was, Carson.”
A large, meaty fist barreled toward his face, and Alex raised both his elbows to ram them sharply into Ian’s chest. The man fell backward, enabling Alex to roll to his feet. He waved the approaching Mounties away. He would handle this fight on his own. As Ian tried to climb to his feet, Alex brought his clenched hands down onto the back of Ian’s neck. The big man collapsed like a house of cards and lay on the cold floor in a stupor.
“Lock him up.” He motioned to two new recruits and they dragged McMurphy away. Only when he’d caught his breath did Ian’s taunt about Joanna register in his brain.
Glancing at the door through which Ian McMurphy had disappeared, Alex cursed. He
would have to wait several hours before he could question his adversary again.
Megan spent the rest of the day and evening in her room, lounging in her bath, taking a nap, reading a hook while she scratched Damon’s ears. But no matter what she did, images of Alex Carson pushed aside all other thoughts. When would he return—after the show or maybe closer to morning and the end of his shift?
The Celebration would reopen at two a.m. so Megan crossed to a shoulder-high Oriental screen in the corner of the room and slid behind it to dress. After Queen had burst in on her for the sixth time when she wore nothing but her unmentionables, Megan had attempted to purchase a lock for her door. In a town where everything was available for a price, locks were sold out. As a compromise, she’d purchased the screen and ordered the lock.
Untying her ivory velvet robe and throwing it over the screen, Megan bent to pull on her stockings. When a knock sounded on the door, she called “come in,” wondering why Queen had suddenly acquired manners now that Megan dressed behind the screen. Finishing with the stockings, Megan ran her fingers through her hair, then tossed the heavy mass back as she straightened.
“Queen, can you help me into this dress?”
“I’d rather help you out of it.”
Megan let out a startled squeak at the sound of Alex Carson’s voice. Damon growled once at the sound, but subsided when he saw who had entered.
“Traitor,” Megan grumbled at the wolf. She looked at Alex. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be back later.” He moved closer and Megan crouched lower behind the screen.
“I’m in my … aah …” Megan floundered for a way to say “underclothes” without mentioning the word. Finally she gave up. “Move back.”
“I thought you needed help.”
“Not from you. Why are you in my room anyway?”
“Did you or did you not tell me to come in when I knocked?”
“Not you. Queen.”
Alex looked around the room. “She’s not here.”
Megan ignored his obvious amusement at her predicament and said bluntly, “Leave. I’ll be downstairs as soon as I’m dressed.”
Just After Midnight: Historical Romance Page 9