“I’d have you, sweetheart. It will be fine.”
She blinked back tears as she let him go, continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken words that gripped her tortured heart. “Or me, standing over your grave in widow’s weeds?” She took a step backward, twisting away when he reached for her.
“Coral,” he said hoarsely, “it will be all right. We’ll find a way out of this.”
“No, you can’t make that promise. I’m sorry, Bo, I can’t marry you. I’m never marrying again. Not you, not Harvey, not anyone.” She took another step back, her eyes locked on his as she whispered, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Or if you lost everything you worked so hard for because of me.” She looked at Jewel who had a pained expression on her face. “Do I still have a job here?”
“Uh…” the madame began, at a momentary loss. Her eyes flicked to Bo, whose face was locked down in frustrated anger, then to Gabriel who appeared concerned, but nodded his approval. “You will always have a place at the Red Petticoat, Coral, as long as that is what you want.”
“It is,” she stated, before turning to Bo, his image watery through her tears. “Forget about me, Bo, please. You’re better off leaving me alone, everyone is.”
Choking on sobs, she bolted for the door, running down the hall, ignoring his calls for her to stop. She didn’t, tearing through the saloon and up the stairs to her room, where she slammed the door shut. If he came after her and took her in his arms, kissed her as he had before, she didn’t know if she could turn him away again. With her eyes locked on the doorknob waiting for it to turn, she backed up, until her legs hit the bed. She sank onto it, straining to hear the sounds in the hall.
At the same time, she prayed fervently that he would come fetch her, she also sent up silent pleas that he wouldn’t. She was torn, an emotional mess, one moment telling herself she’d willingly take the strapping he owed her if he’d come take her away. The next, swearing to sneak out of town like a thief in the night so he couldn’t and would be safe from her father’s scheming interference. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on her chest. After all she’d been through, why couldn’t she have a small measure of happiness?
Yet Bo had done nothing to deserve what would come his way if she agreed to be with him, the loss of everything he possessed, his smithy, his livelihood, and ultimately, his life. The sacrifice was too great. He would move on, find someone else to love. The brunette came to mind as she gulped hard, hot tears sliding down her cheeks.
She didn’t have to worry about either, though, because his heavy footsteps didn’t sound in the hall, nor did his fist beat on the door demanding entrance. No one came. Not Amy, not Opal, not even Jewel. As she lay on her bed with a flood of tears rolling unchecked down her face and soaking her pillow, a voice in her head asked, isn’t this what you asked for, to be left alone?
Although it was true, she couldn’t have imagined it would hurt so bad for one of her wishes to finally come true.
Chapter Eleven
Skipping breakfast the next morning, which was served late due to the saloon being open into the wee hours, it was midafternoon before she came quietly downstairs. She was surprised to see a flurry of activity in the main room as she descended. Several gems were busy sweeping up broken bottles on the floor, Nettie was unpacking glasses from boxes, John and Mister Gabe were behind the bar mounting a new mirror on the wall, while Jewel stood back and guided them to make it straight, and Charlie was carrying in a large crate labeled whiskey.
Coral stopped by Rose, one of the younger gems who was sweeping beneath a table, to ask what had happened.
“Did I miss a bar brawl?”
She spun around so fast, Coral was surprised she didn’t tip over. Then she gaped at her as if she’d grown a second head. “You can’t tell me you slept through all of that noise.”
No, she couldn’t, but she wouldn’t have heard much over her sobbing, which had gone on for what seemed like hours as she lay in bed, her face jammed in her pillow so no one would hear. Her face heated with embarrassment as she made an excuse.
“My room is at the far end of the hall. It’s quiet—”
“Perhaps you should see Doc Norwood and get your ears checked. A train driving through the middle of the room with its whistle blaring would have been quieter.”
“What happened? Did a few rowdy prospectors got too rowdy?”
“More like one irate blacksmith.”
“Bo did this?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over the havoc.
“Yes. After you ran through here and flew up the stairs, he followed madder than a hornet, saying something about blistering your backside until you stopped talking about curses and other such nonsense. Charlie and Gabriel were hot on his heels though and stopped him, asking him to take a few minutes and cool his anger. He threw them off. One of the customers joined in, but your man is very strong.”
“He’s not my man, Rose.”
“Have you told him that? He was throwing people around like they were nothing. Tables were turned over, beer spilled, which some of the other men took exception to and joined in the row. That’s when it really got ugly. Glass was flying, chairs were being smashed, and poor Jack McCreedy, who doesn’t weigh much more than me, went sliding across the bar and broke the wall mirror into a million pieces. If the sheriff and his deputies hadn’t come along—” She stopped there, shaking her head sadly as Coral filled in the blanks.
“No,” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. “They arrested him?”
Rose nodded, reaching out to pat her arm. “Sheriff Justice did so only until he cooled off, honey. Mister Gabe and Madame Jewel said they wouldn’t press charges as long as he made rest-uh…” The young woman’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Now what was that they said? I keep forgetting.”
“Restitution?” Coral supplied helpfully.
“That’s it!” the girl called as she nodded.
Her brain calculated the cost as she looked around, yet that wasn’t her prime concern. Her thoughts were consumed with the image of Bo behind bars. “What could he have been thinking?” she whispered, half to herself.
“Obviously he wasn’t, honey. Except about getting to you and shaking some sense into your head,” Jewel said from behind her. “I thought it an excellent idea. However, Gabe and Jebidiah thought it best if both of you had some time to yourselves. I thought to come up and talk to you last night,” her eyes swept the mess in the room, “but things got a bit heated.”
Tears welled in her eyes, although after last night, she would have bet every dime she had in the Culpepper Cove Bank that she had none left. “This is all my fault. I should go.”
“This is not your responsibility!” Jewel replied angrily. “No more so than it was mine when I naively believed my fickle hearted, lying fiancé, or Lapis when she fought off an employer who was forcing himself on her only to be turned out when he was found out, or Rose who…” she stopped when the other girl shook her head. “Well, that is to say there are a host of reasons why women are led into, uh, this profession, most for unfortunate events beyond our control, like you. Blame cannot be laid at their door, nor should it be laid upon yours. It is fate, or happenstance. And as someone wise once said, when life hands you lemons—”
“Make lemonade,” Rose finished for her, clearly having heard Nettie use the expression before, as had Coral in her short tenure.
The words, meant to inspire optimism, didn’t buoy her spirits one bit. “What happens when life hands you a curse?”
“Oh, honey, you can’t really believe that.”
“What else am I to believe when mayhem and death follow me wherever I go? I need to go see Bo, pay his fine, or his bond, or whatever one pays in these circumstances.” She turned back to the stairs. “I’ll go get my pocketbook.”
“That girl needs a bit of good luck,” she heard Rose say as she climbed to the second floor, fatigue making every step heavy and plodding.
; Luck, Coral thought silently. Fat chance. In almost thirty years, bad luck had been the only windfall that had come her way.
* * *
As the hinges on the iron cell door squeaked loudly, Bo cracked one eyelid and watched as Jebidiah Justice came inside and stood over him. With his hands on his hips, his friend stared down at where he lay in an uncomfortable sprawl. His feet were on the floor, his lower body angled one way while his upper torso twisted the other, his head propped on the thin, poor excuse for a pillow that was the only cushion between his skull and the hard metal frame in the too short, narrow cot that had served as his bed.
Jeb’s lips twitched. “I’ll have to see about upgrading my cots to size extra-large if you’re going to be making a habit of this, my friend.”
He grunted as he sat up, his stiff back protesting the cramped accommodations. “As lovely as it was, I don’t plan on returning for more of your hospitality.” He eyed first the sheriff, then the wide open door. “Does this mean I’m free to go?”
“Yes, the owners are not pressing charges. There is the matter of property damage, however.”
“After I stop by home and get cleaned up, I’ll head over and speak to Gabriel.”
“Good.” Jeb didn’t move out of the way.
“Was there something else?”
“Just some advice. You’ve always been a law-abiding citizen, Bo. And I haven’t ever heard a whisper about you not holding your liquor or rabble rousing at the saloon. Whatever it is that has gotten you riled, nip it in the bud. You’re too good of a man to be spending the night in my jail like a liquored up prospector whose claim didn’t pan out.”
“It’s hard to remain level headed when your woman is getting the shaft and being manipulated into either marrying a man near twice her age, or making her living on her back.”
“Your woman?”
“Yes. After I speak to Gabriel I’m going to make that perfectly clear to her and her would-be fiancé.”
“If you’re referring to Harvey Dixon, he’s gone. Saw him heading out at first light as I was making my rounds.”
“Is that so?” Bo exclaimed, pleased with the news, though suspicious. No man would travel as far as he had to claim what he wanted, only to give up so easily. “With Barlow out of town, where’s the nearest attorney, Jeb?”
“Jewel and Gabe aren’t pressing charges—”
“Not for me. I need someone who knows something about marriage contracts.”
The sheriff took off his hat and brushed back his hair. “There’s a fella who has an office over in Sacramento City, but he’s only in town a few days a month. Travels up from San Francisco, as I hear it. Beyond that, you’re better off waiting until Adam gets back on Monday.”
Bo nodded while he stepped by Jeb and out into the main room of the jailhouse on his way to the front door.
“What are you thinking?” the sheriff asked as he followed.
“First, I’m gonna bathe and delouse myself. No offense, but your linens could stand to be washed at least once a year. Second, I’m heading to the saloon and make it clear to one Carissa Anne Fulwiler Ward Fischer Baxter or whatever her real name is, that she’s my woman. Then, I’m burning every goddamned red petticoat she has in her possession. And finally, I’m finding the preacher and she and I are getting hitched, even if I have to cart her to the alter over my shoulder with a scorching hot bottom to convince her that she belongs to me.”
“Carissa Anne who?” Jeb asked from the doorway. Except Bo, who had already stepped off the small porch, didn’t pause to explain, he only lifted his hand to gesture later as he strode determinedly down the dusty main street toward his livery, a bar of soap, and a tub of scalding hot water.
Chapter Twelve
Coral tensed at the sound of footsteps and soft feminine laughter out in the hallway. Both grew faint as one of the girls, who was likely with a customer passed her room and moved on down the long corridor. The soft thud of a door soon followed.
Her eyes closed in relief, but she didn’t stir from her bed otherwise. She’d been like this all day, ever since she’d returned from the jailhouse.
As she stepped into the small two celled building that morning, she’d encountered a dark, brooding man, who looked up from behind a desk where he sat cleaning and polishing his pistols. When she offered him a smile in greeting, he just stared back at her, his light gray eyes seeming to pierce her very soul. She suppressed the desire to run as fast as she could to the safety of the saloon, but she swallowed her unease for Bo’s sake.
Letting her eyes skim down his shirtfront, she double-checked for a badge that would indicate he was actually an officer of the law and not one of the prisoners lingering after an escape. The gleaming brass star on his chest etched with “Deputy” only calmed her anxieties slightly.
“I see that you’re busy, Deputy…” She paused, thinking he would provide his name. He didn’t. Awkwardly, she continued, “I’m here to post bail for Mr. Magnusson.”
“Can’t.”
Although it came out softly, his clipped reply made her jump. She chewed her lip at his answer. “Why no bail? Surely you don’t mean to keep him locked up over a silly bar room fight.”
“No bail,” he replied succinctly, flipping the chamber of the gun closed and spinning it. He then pointed the weapon at the far wall and with one eye shut, lined up the sights.
“A fine then? I have cash.” She dug inside her pocketbook and pulled out some bills. “If this isn’t enough, I’ll run to the bank.”
“No fine.”
“You’re making him go to trial over this?” she asked, but the infuriating man said nothing. She tried another tack. “Please, may I speak with him?”
“Nope.”
Coral’s hands clenched around her bag in frustration. She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the good his monosyllabic grunts were doing her. And, it was getting her nowhere, fast. She took a step further into the office and peered through the door in the far wall. She saw steel bars and a large part of one of the cells, which was empty. She gritted her teeth in annoyance and turned to look at the man.
“Certainly there are bank robbers, claim jumpers, and far worse criminals to occupy your cells than a man who engaged in fisticuffs at a saloon. He’s a good man and shouldn’t have to pay for one little mistake.”
His response was to pick up his other pistol and begin wiping it with an oil stained cloth, as if she weren’t there. But she was, and he darn well knew it when she crossed her arms and began tapping her toe with impatience because as he polished the dark metal, he looked up and stared right at her.
“Well?” she demanded.
He put down his weapon and stood. Her eyes stayed glued on his as he did so and even at her above average height had to tip her head way back to see his face when he was all unfolded. He was near as tall as Bo. Dear heavens! What did they feed these boys around here?
She frowned when she realized he still hadn’t answered her question. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“Didn’t hear another question.”
Praise be, alert the presses! He spoke more than two words in a row.
“May I please see, Mr. Magnusson?” Ready to stomp her foot in pure exasperation, she
turned and called through the door, “Bo?”
“Save your breath. He’s gone.”
“What?”
“The sheriff released him this morning.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the desk, which brought him eye level with her. She instinctively took a step back. “You didn’t ask, little missy. Besides, my job is to keep law and order, not provide information. You want news, we’ve got a paper in town. Now, if you’re done disturbing me, why don’t you be a good little gal and be about yer business, so I can be about mine.”
“Are you this surly with your wife?” she asked, her feelings stung by his brusqueness. He was quite good looking, but
really… his manners.
“Ain’t got a wife. Got no woman, neither. Wanna know why?”
He moved around the desk. As he did, she retreated to the door, ready to whirl and run. He beat her to the door and placed his hand on the knob. “That’s not necessary, sir. I’ll be on my way.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he answered anyway. “Because they talk too dern much and ask too many blasted questions.” He pulled the door open and tilted his head toward it. “You have a nice day,” he added, his wish entirely false.
But Coral didn’t have to be told twice to get. She got gone and quick, happy she hadn’t ever seen him around the Red Petticoat and hoping he didn’t come in for a dance, anytime soon. Really!
After her encounter with the surly deputy, she’d come straight back to her room. Since then, she’d laid in her bed feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t seen Bo when she’d passed by the livery stable, and blessedly, there was no sign of Harvey.
* * *
Jumping at every creak of the treads on the stairs, every slamming door, or shout from the street outside, Coral paced her room. As nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Nettie had said when she brought her some of her special recipe soothing tea and some sweetcakes after skipping lunch. Neither the snack, nor her reassurances that everything would work itself out as it was meant to, helped calm her. She couldn’t keep from worrying that Harvey would return and demand she go back with him. But according to the girls who’d come by to visit and check on her, offer advice, or simply a sympathetic hug, Harvey hadn’t been seen all day. When Jewel had stopped in and assured her he’d left town, that Gabe had seen him riding out at dawn himself, she’d nodded and closed her eyes.
By mid-afternoon, she’d managed to pull herself together enough to dress for the evening, although her long face and lackluster demeanor didn’t bode well for much business. The prospectors who’d been panning for gold all week expected to see smiles in greeting when they walked into the Red Petticoat, not a dour, worried expression. So, she plastered on a forced smile and headed down stairs for work.
Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 11