A man answered it. He was a porcine fellow with muttonchops and heavy jowls. He smiled in a friendly manner and invited her inside. She entered and stepped aside for him to close the door.
“Mr. Smith said I could practice the piano this morning. I’m Kathryn…Jurrell,” she said, the name bittersweet on her lips.
“I was expecting you, ma’am. If you need anything, just give me a yell,” he responded in a respectful manner.
“Thank you, Mr…?” she asked.
“Harkins, Luther Harkins. Soapy’s real pleased you’ve come to work for him. We don’t get many ladies around these parts.”
“I’ll be here until noon if that’s all right, Mr. Harkins.”
“Soapy said you was to have whatever you wanted. And you can call me Luther,” he entreated affably.
“Thank you, Luther.”
She entered the room, removing her parka and lay it over a chair. She mounted the steps to the stage and walked to the piano. Her fingers lightly traced over the splendid instrument. She smiled. She sat down on the bench and straightened her skirt, then stared at the ivory keyboard. Kathy apprehensively wondered, can I really do this? She inhaled several times, then ran her deft fingers over the keys. Not bad, she instantly decided. Only one key was off tune; the low “C” was slightly sharp. Relieved and impressed, she grinned. After all, how many of these rough people would realize the difference? She skillfully began to run the scales; beginning at low “G,” she finished at high “G.” To test her dormant talent and to settle her nerves, she played a medley of tunes from childhood. Then, she bravely attempted a relatively easy sonata by Chopin.
She smiled at her success and ability. Perhaps this job wouldn’t be impossible. She lifted the stack of music from the top of the piano and scanned it. She laughed softly to herself; playing one concert piece was harder than playing all of those combined! Confidence filled her as she began to pick out the first few. Within an hour, she had ten songs flowing like rich honey from the musical honeycomb.
Time passed as she gave each one a try, dismissing several songs because of their risqué wording. Finally, she started to sing one appealing lay in a muffled voice. The words came forth a little hoarsely due to her recent battle with nature’s elements. Still, with more practice, she could adequately carry out that end of their bargain. She tried other songs, finding the right key to complement her voice.
Around eleven, she halted. She placed her hands on either side of her hips, fingers clasping the edge of the bench. She leaned back to relax her muscles, sighing in pleasure. “Some water or coffee to wet your throat?” Soapy spoke from behind her.
She jumped, then turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, watching her appreciatively and intensely. “I didn’t see you there, Mr. Smith. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she remarked, recalling his residence.
“Not at all. These ears have hungered for such sweet notes. You underestimated yourself; you are most talented, not a bit rusty. Do you still feel you need three days of practice?”
“If for nothing else than to learn these new songs,” she responded.
“If you’re ready to take a break, I can see you to your new home. I’ll have Luther bring your belongings over. That way, you can get settled and rested before tonight.”
“Tonight?” she echoed. “But I won’t be ready to play for two more days,” she asserted softly.
“I still want you to come over for dinner tonight. By the time you play Wednesday, they will be chomping at the bit to hear you. You could use the next few days to get to know some of our better patrons. Might help to ease that stage-fright. We’re not savages, Kathryn.”
“You’re right. But I feel strange being in Dawson alone,” she voiced her reservation. “Harriet gave me a small gun; I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not to fear, you won’t need it. You can sit at my table with me. I’ll introduce you as they come in. With you sitting in here, it might encourage some of those pennypinchers to pay for the right to enter this room.”
“I don’t understand,” she mused aloud. She didn’t like the idea of his being her escort. But how could she avoid the man she was duping?
“It costs ten dollars just to be seated in here. That keeps out the undesirables. The food and drinks are also higher. You see, only the best can enjoy your music. I’m going to start closing the curtains each night. I’ve kept them opened to entice men who can easily afford to dine in here. But the denial of your beautiful face as you play will drive them wild. I think I’ll raise the entrance fee to twenty dollars. That should halt the same people from filling the room every night.”
“But they can hear me from out there,” she reasoned on his contradictory logic. He sounded awfully obsessive to suit her.
“If you heard an angel singing in the distance, wouldn’t you seek a view of her face? If they see you, they’ll pay for the privilege.”
“But won’t that cut down on profits? How many men can afford such a treat?” she debated. “I’m here to earn money, sir.”
“Don’t worry; you’ll earn plenty,” he vowed smugly.
He held her parka while she slipped into it. He escorted her to Paradise House. He had sent Luther to fetch her packed bags from her boarding house. With concealed reluctance, Kathy entered Michelle’s old room.
As with her first glimpse of Soapy’s gambling house, she was astonished. There was a four-poster bed in one corner, flaunting a floral coverlet. Near it was a small table with a decorative lantern. She swept past the only window with matching curtains to admire the clothes chest in heavy pine. On the adjoining wall, she noted two doors on either side of the fireplace. She ignored them for the present to move her intrigued gaze to a cushiony chair in soft French blue. In the left corner, her eyes absorbed a corner desk with a wooden chair, another lantern sitting upon it. Toward the left center of the room was positioned a small eating table and two chairs. No personal possession of its previous inhabitant could be sighted.
Soapy walked to one door and opened it, pointing out an ample closet. He opened the other one and called her attention to a private closet for bathing and dressing. On one wall, there was a lengthy cabinet for placing toilette items, over it an oval mirror. Suspended from the ceiling were two lanterns, one on either side of the mirror. Beneath the cabinet, there sat a colorfully decorated chamber pot which brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Before another wall was a large, oblong tub, long and deep enough to submerse herself. She brightened at that luxury. The remaining wall was the stoned side of the chimney, allowing for heat. Again, no personal items were in view.
The center of the floor was covered by a blue and beige floral rug. The entire area was spotless and hinted at great expense. Evidently this Michelle had been highly prized, perhaps overly pampered. She couldn’t help but wonder why. Soapy didn’t appear to be a man who indulged his employees.
“Well? Is it suitable, Kathryn?” he inquired.
She met his amused gaze. “The room is charming and cozy. I am most pleased, and relieved,” she courteously remarked.
“Aren’t you even curious about the former occupant?” he asked mischievously, twirling his mustache.
“I have found it best not to broach subjects of a personal nature to others. It also serves to prevent their intrusion into mine,” she smiled.
“Aren’t you wondering if I was in love with her?” he fenced.
“I would never ask anyone such a rude question,” she parried.
Soapy insisted on clarifying the matter of Michelle, “The answer is no. Jurrell didn’t steal her from me, if you’re thinking that’s why I despise him. Michelle loved all men. She was spoiled and willful, a wicked flirt. She wanted men to love and pamper her. Jurrell was the only one she couldn’t beguile. Being Michelle, she couldn’t admit even to herself that he was unattainable,” he nonchalantly revealed.
“I don’t understand…” She halted to gaze quizzically at him.
“You’re Landis’s wife. I
don’t want him demanding you quit because of his personal quarrel with me. He’s a proud man. I sort of stretched the truth to tarnish his image. I wouldn’t want to force you to side with either of us. Your husband was never in love with Michelle.”
“Why are you telling me such things, Mr. Smith? What he did before we married doesn’t concern me. I don’t wish to discuss this.”
Soapy chuckled in unsuppressed humor. “I just didn’t want him coming here and making me look childish. May I ask why you split up?”
“No; you may not. Let it rest, or I’ll quit this moment,” she announced, hoping her face wasn’t betraying her inner turmoil.
“Evidently you two had a terrible misunderstanding. If not for our differences, I might like him. I must begrudgingly admit that he does have certain merits. At times, I wouldn’t mind being in his boots.”
She eyed him skeptically. What was he implying? “I thought you hated him,” she stated, knowing she should reveal some natural curiosity, since he seemed determined to press the subject.
“In all honesty, I suppose I do. I just wanted to make sure that news wouldn’t change your plans. I’m not so certain Michelle didn’t arrange her own fall,” he mysteriously speculated. “Or Jurrell.”
Appalled, Kathy inhaled sharply. “You think my husband had something to do with it?” she asked, mistaking his meaning.
“Absolutely not. I meant, Michelle was one to use certain things to her advantage. A fall and injury might call his attention back to her. She had been most upset after his last visit. No doubt he told her about you and his surprise marriage.”
“But the fall was fatal. Surely you’re not insinuating suicide because of our marriage?” she asked, distressed.
“I don’t think so,” he replied noncommitally. “But she was furious after his last visit, about six weeks ago. She told one of the girls he wasn’t planning to visit her again. Naturally she didn’t take that in stride. Michelle was a spiteful creature. I wouldn’t put it past her to seek revenge. To threaten suicide is a desperate way to regain lost attention.” He laughed, then added, “There was no way she could make him jealous with other men. He isn’t the jealous type. I would imagine he fiercely dislikes being pushed into a corner. Could be he dropped her to pursue his own wife.”
She gasped in shock. “Surely you jest! I hope you don’t think I’m partly responsible for her death.” Six weeks ago? her mind echoed.
“Sometimes our emotions have ways of defeating us. Jurrell was an excellent catch, quite wealthy and influencial here.”
“I find this conversation most distasteful and dismaying, Mr. Smith. None of this applies to me or my work.”
“I only wanted to fill you in, Kathryn, in case one of the other girls or customers drops a nasty remark. I wouldn’t want you upset or hurt. I can assure you that was my sole intention for speaking so bluntly and persistently. I apologize if I overstepped myself.”
Kathy flinched inwardly. What and how much did Smith know? If he was as well-informed as she imagined, he knew many of the problems between them. Unless Landis had spitefully maligned her, Soapy couldn’t know about their life together. She would stand on Soapy’s ignorance of her foolish actions. If she lied, he would be suspicious.
“I appreciate your concern. As I said earlier, my private life is my own business. But, it’s no secret that Landis and I met and married quickly. We didn’t take time to get to know each other. We both realized we had made a mistake, and we parted. He’s refusing to help me search for my father, so Jack and I are trying to find him. Either way, I leave for America at first thaw. Landis has nothing to say about where I go or what I do. Your quarrel with him doesn’t include or interest me. I hope that sufficiently satisfies your curiosity, for I’ll say no more.”
Luther came with her luggage. She mentally assessed the length of time it had required to retrieve it. Had he searched it?
“I’ll leave you now to unpack and rest;” Soapy said, “and see you for dinner around seven. I’ll send Luther over to fetch you. I wouldn’t want anyone to offend or frighten my new star on her first day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.”
Luther set her luggage on the bed and hastily left, to await Soapy outside. Soapy soon joined him. “Anything, Luther?”
“Just clothes and underwear. No jewels or papers.”
“Make certain Jurrell knows she’s here as soon as possible. I want to see how quickly he takes my bait.” The two men walked away. “Keep an eye out for Blitch. The way she acted, I think she’s too taken with him.”
Kathy unfastened her packs and gazed inside. Luther had been most careful, but it was obvious he had searched her bags. Since nothing was missing, she would let this offense ride. She hung her dresses in the closet, then placed her other garments in the chest. She took her toiletries into the bathing closet and lay them on the cabinet. She glanced at herself in the oval mirror. She instantly chided herself for wondering if Michelle was prettier than she was.
She set the packs on the floor of her closet. She walked around for a time, imagining Landis spending time with another woman in this room, making passionate love to Michelle in that very bed. She flung herself upon the bed and wept softly. Would he never cease to torment her? Even amidst these haunting facts, she discovered herself seeking his manly odor on the clean linens. How her traitorous body ached for his touch; how her ravaged heart pined for his love. She berated herself for such destructive emotions. Adding this treacherous secret to his previous actions, she knew it could never be right between them again. She must forget him. But why was it so impossible, so agonizing? The trying day taking a heavy toll on her emotions, she fell asleep.
Someone was shaking her gently on her shoulder. She opened her sleepy eyes and looked up. She was momentarily confused about her surroundings and the strange woman who was leaning over her. “Soapy said ta bring ye bath water, ma’am. He said Luther wuz ta come fer ye bout seven. Ye wuz sleepin’ sa peaceful, I hated ta wake ye up. It be nigh six now.”
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Kathy blurted out.
“Ye left tha door unlocked, ma’am. I be Silly Nelle. I takes care of Soapy’s girls. If ye be needin’ a thing, ye send fer Silly Nelle.”
Kathy pushed herself to a sitting position, studying the coarse creature from beneath lowered lashes. The woman appeared to be in her forties, short and plump. Her garments were heavy and full, but nearly colorless from endless washings. Her crinkled hands were chapped, excessive redness and creases indicating harsh work and weather. As she met Nelle’s simple expression, the woman smiled warmly, enhancing the laugh-lines near her sparkling blue eyes and almost non-existent lips. Nelle’s hair had once been light brown, but now it was drab and mingled with gray. There was a jagged scar across her left cheek, drawing Kathy’s inquisitive eyes to it.
“Ye be won’ering ‘bout me scar?” she stated matter-of-factly, giving Kathy the impression she wasn’t as simpleminded as she pretended. “I’ll tells ye ‘bout it. Don’t bother me none. Helps keep tha sourdoughs away. Got it when me late husband, God rest ‘is soul,” she quickly added before continuing, “wuz fightin’ a claim-jumper. Ole Nelle jumps right in ta he’p. Got clobbered. Me dear man wuz kilt. I been workin’ fer Soapy since tha’ time. He be a kind man ta ole Nelle. Don’t let none of them greedy men git ta me. I cooks, cleans, an’ sees ta his girls. Ye need any wood, water, or clothes washed, an’ old Nellell see it’s done.”
“You’ve never worked in his saloon?” Kathy asked, immediately sorry.
Nelle puffed up with pride, not anger. “Not Silly Nelle. Tha good Lord puts me ’ere ta take care of one man. He be gone now, so old Nelle sees ta herself. I gots ta be starvin’ afore I does tha’ kind of work.” Her expression was friendly. Kathy warmed to her instantly.
“That’s most admirable, Nelle. But why didn’t you go back home after your husband’s death?”
“Na way er money. ‘Sides, ain’t got na family nowhere. I be happy ’
ere. Soapy takes good care of Silly Nelle. I gots me own room, hot victuals, an’ clothes on me back. Better ‘an most ‘round ’ere.”
“He sounds like a good man, Nelle. I shall enjoy working for him.”
Nelle shook her head of flying hair. “Ye don’t be tha kind ta work in no such place, ma’am. Ye husband be kilt, too? Ye got no money ta git back ta ye family?” Her genuine concern touched Kathy.
“Oh, I’m not here to work like his other girls. I play the piano and sing,” she hastily explained to the displeased woman.
“Ye be doin’ tha’ first. I know Soapy. He’ll be after ye ta do more soon. Ye too pretty an’ gentle ta ruin yeself. Ye best leave afore he has ye trapped ’ere lik’ old Nelle an’ tha others. Soapy likes money, an’ he be seein’ ye ta earn him plenty more,” she warned, leaning forward as she whispered, as if fearing to be overheard.
“He’ll be wasting his time, Nelle. You needn’t worry. I’m leaving in a few weeks, just as soon as I earn enough money to catch the first ship to America. I would die before becoming a harlot!” she forcefully vowed.
“’E’ll ne’er allow tha likes of ye ta leave. Ye best make friends with some pow’rful men, like them Mounties. Soapy’s afeared of ’em. ‘E’ll find some way ta keep ye here,” she warned again.
“I thought you just told me how kind he was to you,” Kathy debated.
“He be kind ta ole Nelle’ cause he needs me ta see ta his girls. But he ain’t kind ta them. Once they comes, they don’t ne’er leave, not alive, anyways. When Soapy gits ye, death be tha only way ta git free. Ye best keeps ye door locked. Them bad girls brings men o’er ’ere. Ye don’t wants nobody sneakin’ ta ye room.”
“I’ll be very careful, Nelle. Thank you for the advice and warnings. But I must stay a few weeks. I need the money,” she stated, happy she was only half lying to this affable woman. It was suddenly clear to Kathy that Nelle was feigning her dull-witted state for protection and survival. How sad she was trapped here like this.
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