She tamped down her desire to curl up in a corner and cry, when a new man walked in. Tall, fit, well dressed, he was at least fifty. He scanned the crowd, then honed in on the available gems. She watched as he assessed each one in turn and moved on. He was looking for something in particular, but what?
When he got to her, his gaze lingered, moving over her brazen red hair, then downward, lingering at length on her low neckline. Her shoulders slumped when he moved on to the next girl. This was a man she thought she could tolerate. As she moved to the bar to get something cool to drink, she felt someone at her shoulder and turned.
“You’re new.” Without a greeting, the stranger stated this as fact. “I come in at least once a month, I would have remembered you.”
“I haven’t been here quite that long. You must have just missed me the last time through, I used to dance—”
“I’d like to take you upstairs.”
Her eyes widened. As quick as that. Her worried gaze sought one of the owners to vouch for the man who was unknown to her. Madame Jewel was occupied with someone at the bar, as was Gabe who was mediating an argument at one of the poker table. She spied Amy on the other side of the room. Coral raised a brow and angled her head to the new man who had requested her services. Her friend glanced at him, tilting her head as she looked him up and down, then she shrugged not knowing him either, evidently.
“You have the most beautiful red hair I’ve ever seen and I like your soft curves,” he said with the utmost candor. “But I think what stands out most of all, is the look of innocence about you.”
This caught her off guard and a bubble of laughter slipped out. “If that’s what you’re looking for, sir, perhaps one of the younger girls might be better suited.”
“I don’t mean virginal innocence. I mean guilelessness. You’re new to this profession, aren’t you?”
Her eyes flew wide at his intuitiveness. How had he guessed? Realizing her hands were nervously wringing her skirt—a bad practice she’d fallen into of late—she unclasped them and forced them down by her side. He noticed and a smile curved his lips.
“I don’t want a girl; I want a woman. And I have unique tastes. If you can keep an open mind, I’d like to spend some time with you.”
“How unique?”
“I’ll explain once we’re in private upstairs. And since this is all rather mysterious, and
you’re going on blind faith with me, there is a generous bonus in it for you if you agree.”
“I don’t know…”
“I won’t require that you get naked or part your legs for me. I do, however, insist on the utmost discretion.”
Both intrigued and uncertain by his secretive request, she again sought out Jewel and Gabe, both still busy. As she scanned the main room for perhaps Opal, or even Nettie, a tall man at the far end of the bar caught her eye. He was tossing back a whiskey, his dark blond hair glimmering in the lamplight as he did so. When he set the glass down, sky blue eyes in a darkly tanned face came directly to her. His gaze shifted to the man at her side then dipped low to her dress. The heat of shame flooded Coral’s cheeks. Bo hadn’t been back to the saloon since the night they had danced. Why had he picked tonight of all nights?
His jaw tightened as his gaze narrowed, then he reached for his hat, slapped it on his head, and started for the door without looking back.
“A friend of yours?” the man at her side asked as he too watched Bo slam through the front door.
“Not anymore.” Although she tried to hide the painful regret in her voice, she failed, and he picked up on it.
“You don’t sound so sure. He’s rather large and I’d rather not have him after me.”
Clearly, after tonight she had burned that bridge to ashes. “No need to worry,” she reassured him though wishing with all her might that the door would burst open and Bo would rush back in and take her away from all of this.
“What do you say then, Red?”
With a heavy heart that longed for what might have been, but could never be, she dragged her gaze from where she had last seen Bo’s departing form and looked to her would-be customer, correcting him softly as if it mattered, “My name is Coral.” After another moment of hesitation, she nodded grimly, not even trying to force a smile. What her life had become leaving her nothing to smile about. Determined to change that, no matter how, she extended her hand to him. “You’ve piqued my interest, Mr.—”
“Emory Stone. You may call me, Emory.”
She inclined her head. Feeling silly to be having such a polite conversation on the stairs leading up to her bedroom in a bawdy house. “I haven’t seen you around either. Are you local or just passing through?”
“Passing through. Although this isn’t my jurisdiction, my rounds as a district judge bring me near to Culpepper Cove and the Red Petticoat, quite often.”
She tried to hide her surprise by turning and leading him up the stairs. Although no one had been able to vouch for him, she felt a modicum better. A judge would be a trustworthy sort, surely.
As they mounted the steps that led to her new room, she felt the eyes of the other girls drilling into her back. On the way up, she had to sidestep to let Opal pass on the way back down. The man with her had mussed hair and was wearing a silly grin, the epitome of a well-satisfied client. Opal stopped suddenly, the man bumping into her from behind, and she had to grab the rail to keep them from taking a tumble. Then she blinked, her gaze shifting between Coral and the judge as her mouth fell open.
It spurred a feeling of doubt that didn’t come from this being her first time. It was something more. Clearly shocked, it took the usually unflappable gem a moment to regain her composure. When she did, she nodded at the judge with a tight smile. “Emory, you’ve met Coral, I see. She’s new here.” The experienced gem’s eyes drilled into the man who stood on the step below her.
“I’m aware, Miss Opal. You know she can be entrusted to me.”
Coral’s eyes narrowed with concern as the two exchanged some sort of silent communication. Then her friend smiled slightly as if coming to a realization. “Of course she can,” she agreed. Then with a tilt of her head, her smile became less strained, she addressed her for the first time. “Coral, you don’t have to—”
“Opal, dear,” she interrupted, not sure what was going on, but afraid a good paying customer who was offering a generous bonus without sex as a requirement would be scared off. Not meeting Opal’s eyes, she said sweetly, though firmly, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Then, with the judge’s hand in her own, she continued up to the second floor to become a gem for real.
Chapter Seven
Three weeks passed and her days and nights fell into a routine. Every Monday, she made the short walk to the bank to deposit her earnings and tips, and check on her money transfer. Each time she entered through the double doors, the bank manager would look up and upon seeing her, shake his head sadly. After concluding her business with the teller, and having no other option except continuing to wait, she’d turn on her heel and head back to the saloon.
On her walk, she’d keep to herself. After the run-in with Millicent Crankshaw, she didn’t risk words with any of the other townsfolk, although the girls had assured her most were friendly and accepting of the Red Petticoat Saloon and the women who worked there. But she wasn’t about to tempt fate, especially with her rotten luck.
Even with the population in Culpepper Cove predominantly male, as was most of California during the gold rush where men outnumbered women at the rate of twenty to one, most men heading west to make it rich in the gold fields while leaving their family safe behind, there were a few couples, some with children who had settled to farm in the area. One such town was Shady Springs, less than an hour away, and according to Mister Gabriel, they were far behind Culpepper Cove in goods and services. Many made the short trip to stock up at Singleton’s Mercantile, send a telegram, or attend to business at the bank.
That was where Millicent and Myron Crankshaw hailed
from, and she was certain she had spread the word about the altercation she’d had with the painted lady right there on main street among decent folk. So, Coral felt it was safer to keep quiet, and to herself, although she would return a smile if one was offered, and nod to the tip of a man’s cap.
Her days were pretty much her own, and in the evenings she danced. Except on the Fridays when Judge Stone returned. When he did so, he asked for her, and only her. She had a regular, so it seemed, and he was the only one she had dared take upstairs. He was generous—to the tune of one hundred dollars each time—although his needs were, as he’d said, unusual. Still, she figured if it continued that way, even without her transfer which was taking a ridiculously long time to come through, she’d have enough to start out on her own in a few years’ time.
It was on the fourth Monday that something different broke up her routine. As she entered the bank, her eyes went immediately to Mr. Stowe’s office. At this time of morning, his door was usually open, but finding it closed, she decided to wait, not having anything else pressing. After making her deposit, she walked to the cordoned off area outside his office. Located behind a short fence and swinging gate, she sat in one of the chairs situated there and settled in.
After arranging her skirt, she folded her hands in her lap and sat back to watch the comings and goings of the busy bank. As she did, she encountered the sneering visage of Mrs. Crankshaw, who was waiting in line at a teller’s window with her husband. She recognized him from the saloon and couldn’t contain a smug smile. With a wife who had a perpetually sour disposition, it was no wonder the man came in for a stiff drink, or two, and much friendlier company.
It gave Coral some insight into why she hated her on sight. It wasn’t as though she went out and enticed her man into the Red Petticoat. If he were happy at home, there would be no need. Startled by that thought, she realized the shift in her perspective now that she was on the other side of the swinging doors.
Keeping her face free of emotion, she returned the woman’s stare. Then with conscious effort, as though dismissing her, Coral looked away, staring sightlessly out the window. Although outwardly she maintained her composure, on the inside she was a bundle of nerves, hoping against hope that the woman would go about her business without feeling the need to speak to her, or to anyone about her, for that matter.
Unfortunately, as with everything else, her wish didn’t come true. And as she sat there listening to the whispers, the old adage her father used to say, came to mind. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And in this case, if she were that beggar, she’d be high tailing it hell bent for leather away from the mean, spiteful woman.
She could feel her hate-filled glare from across the large room. Much as she tried to remain still, as if unbothered, she squirmed. When she heard titters of laughter, she imagined it was directed at her. It was more than she was willing to put up with. She stood and rushed toward the front door. That was when she knew the fates were against her, because as she reached for the lever to leave, the door was yanked open and she came face to face with Bo.
They both froze, staring in surprise for a moment. Then his expression tightened, hers flushing as she remembered their last chance encounter. Prepared to squeeze by him, before she could move, she heard her name. It was Mr. Stowe and his timing couldn’t be worse.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Baxter,” he said as he approached, “I was occupied with another customer.”
“That’s fine. I’ll come back.”
“But you’re here now.”
With Bo at her back and Millicent still staring at her, she wanted nothing more than to run and hide.
“Tomorrow, perhaps…”
“It will only take a moment. And the news, you need to know, it isn’t what you were expecting.”
Bad news, in other words. Why would she have thought otherwise?
“Don’t leave on my account, Mrs. Baxter,” Bo murmured, sounding surprised by the revelation of her married name. He started to move past her.
“Perhaps I should have said Fischer, what with the accounts—”
“Fischer?” Bo asked, at the same time she snapped, “Fine,” before the man recited all of her previous identities to the entire bank. “Tell me,” she said shortly, which was unusual for her, but there was only so much she could bear. Steeling herself for the worst, she turned to him.
“Your father has frozen your accounts.”
There it was, not much could be worse than frozen accounts. “How is this possible? They weren’t his to claim. The funds came from my maternal grandmother.”
“I’m sure I don’t know. All I can tell you is that the First Bank of New York will not release them. I’m afraid you will have to seek legal assistance to resolve the matter. Until then, there is nothing more I can do.”
“Legal assistance,” she echoed, shaken to her toes at the dismal proposition of a battle in the courts with her father. “Is there an attorney in town?”
“Yes. Adam Barlow. Unfortunately, his office is closed this week while he is in Sacramento on business. I’m sorry.”
He gave her a sympathetic look, which made matters worse. Tears burned her eyes as she watched him walk away.
“Coral, is there something I can do?” This came from Bo. Again he had witnessed another of her many humiliations.
She wished that there were something he could do. But she wasn’t his concern; she had made sure of that. Keeping her eyes averted to hide her tears, she shook her head as she turned to leave. “I’ll figure something out.”
He caught her arm, stopping her. “Why won’t you let me help you? Obviously you’re in trouble.”
She couldn’t just stand with her back to him, so she turned slightly. Unfortunately, that put Millicent in her direct line of sight, as well as her smirking contemptuous smile.
“I have to go,” she choked out, wrenching her arm free as she spun and rushed out the door. She ignored Bo as he called after her, running full speed down the boardwalk back to the saloon. Once inside, she ran up the stairs, desperately needing privacy so she could think, and cry her eyes out. She didn’t turn as Jewel called her name, nor did she stop when Amy demanded, “What’s wrong?” as she passed her on the stairs.
In her room, she slammed the door, pressing her forehead against the cool wood. As despair threatened to shatter the last shreds of her control, a knock rattled the panel.
“Coral?” It was Madame Jewel. “What happened? Was it that shrew Millicent again? I swear, I’ll fetch Gabriel, and we’ll go set her straight once and for all.”
“It’s nothing,” she whispered, as she tried to contain her sobs. “Some bad news from home. I’ll be all right. I just want to be alone for now to think, please.”
“Did you see her face?” It was Amy, speaking in a hushed voice, but with her cheek against the door, Coral could hear every word. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“You’re certain you’re all right, honey?” Jewel asked further.
“Yes, I’ll be down for supper. I promise.”
“If you’re not, I’m coming up after you,” Amy warned.
“I just need to rest for a bit and sort things out.”
After a few moments, she heard their footsteps as they moved down the hall. Closing her eyes after dodging that bullet, she staggered to her bed and fell heavily upon it. Grabbing her pillow, she hugged it tight as she rolled to her side and stared blindly at the wall. As she weighed her options, none of them good, she decided to bide her time and talk to Emory on Friday. As a judge, he would know what to do.
A heavy knock at the door made her jump; she rolled to glare at it. “Go away, Amy, please. I’m not up to company right now.”
“Open up, Coral.”
She was up and off the bed like she’d been shot out of a cannon. Her hands went to her hair, which was mussed and tangled, and then to her eyes which were wet and red from crying. She stared at the doorknob, waiting with bated breath to see it turn. Damn! Why weren’t
there locks on the doors? Not that a flimsy lock could keep a man like Bo out.
She didn’t want to see him. Darting across the room, she pressed her body weight against the door as if she could stop him from coming in.
“Please, Bo, haven’t we said it all?” Her voice cracked, her throat dry and scratchy from tears.
“You’ve said more than enough. Now it’s time for me to speak. Open the door, or get out of the way because I’m coming in.”
She searched for something to block the door, spying the ladder back chair where she draped some of her clothes. Rushing toward it, she jammed the back beneath the knob and wedged it tight. “I’m tired. Come back tomorrow.” When she’d be long gone.
“I’m counting to three. If I have to break down this door, your bottom is going to regret not obeying me.” He paused for a moment as the knob rattled. “One.”
“You can’t break the door in. They’ll turn me out!” She didn’t believe that for a minute, but he didn’t know that. It didn’t seem to matter to the impatient man on the other side, however, as he growled, “Two.”
Coral turned in a circle, looking for something heavy, sturdier. There was nothing. Plan B, she needed a way out. Her eyes shot to the window, there was a roof off the front over the porch. Hurrying across the room, she flung the drapes wide just as Bo said, “Three. That’s it. Step back.”
Pushing up the sash, she squealed as the chair began to give way with a loud crack. Looking back, she saw the legs bow as the door pushed inward. Frantic, she ducked her head through the window and scanned for a way down. Perfect. She could climb onto the porch roof and shimmy down the corner post. From there, she hadn’t a clue where she would hide, but she’d figure that out later.
Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 7