Cera's Place (3 page)

Seeing an empty table, he picked his way across the room. He considered asking straightaway about Daniel’s daughter, but decided he needed food and drink first. If the girl was here, there was plenty of time to find her. Time was all Jake had to his name.

He eased his body into a spindle-backed chair and stretched out his legs. Still feeling the effects of riding for two weeks straight, he shifted his sore muscles around trying to find a comfortable position. A tall, raven-haired woman approached and for a moment, Jake forgot he was in a saloon. The woman moved toward him as if she were queen and the room her royal court. Why was someone of such strong bearing serving drinks? He didn’t have time to think of an answer before she reached his table.

“Can I get you a drink, sir?”

He placed the woman’s accent somewhere east of Europe. It reminded him of a band of gypsies he met a few years back. This woman had the same olive skin and high cheekbones. Jake nodded politely. “Whiskey and a beer—and some food if any is available.”

The woman’s smile was friendly, though the warmth didn’t quite reach her dark eyes. “Certainly. We’re serving a stew today with a small loaf of bread.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Coming right up.”

The woman soon returned with a tray of delicious smelling food, a mug of beer, and a shot of whiskey. Jake’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. After setting the items in front of him with an unexpected flair of elegance, she tilted her head and asked, “Are you new in town? I don’t think we have seen you here before.”

“No, you haven’t.” Not ready to continue the conversation without a full stomach, he focused his eyes on the food instead of her face.

After a few beats of silence, she took his hint. “Well, then, my name is Sonya. If you want anything else, just ask. If you are feeling lucky, there are a few openings at the gaming tables.”

Regretting his shortness with her, he replied, “Thank you kindly, but this should be all I need for now.”

With a nod, Sonya excused herself. She made her way to the bar, charming the men in her path.

He drank the whiskey in one gulp, allowing the warmth of the alcohol to work its magic on his sore muscles. Taking a small bite of the stew, he closed his eyes and savored the rich flavor. Its taste was as good as its smell.

As he sopped up the last drop of the stew with a chunk of bread, another woman came hustling out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of liquor in each hand. She had no sooner placed them on the bar than a roughneck grabbed her around the waist and spun her in a clumsy circle. Alarmed, Jake rose out of his chair and took two steps before he realized his help wouldn’t be needed.

“Oh, now stop that, Charlie.” The woman laughed as she put out her arms to keep her balance. “You behave yourself and let me work or I’ll be tossing you out on your bum.”

“Sounds fine by me, Cera, as long as your bum comes too,” Charlie slurred with a lopsided smile. He reached out again with an unsteady hand, but Cera pushed it aside.

“This is your final warning.” She wagged her finger, as if scolding a child. “Don’t make me get my stick.” Though she barely raised her voice, it was enough. Charlie shrugged sheepishly before plopping into a chair and taking up his cards again.

Jake sat down also. So, this was the famous owner of the saloon and not another serving girl. Though her royal blue dress showed off her smallish waist, it was plainer than the other women’s were. Her shimmering auburn hair coiled loosely on top of her head, as if the hairstyle was an afterthought on her list of duties for the day. All in all, she wasn’t the most fashionable lady he had ever seen, but she sparkled—and he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Every man watched Cera as she went about her barroom duties.

Jake pushed the reason he had come to the saloon to the back of his mind and settled down with his beer. After his arduous journey, he decided he deserved a few minutes of self-indulgence—and for the first time in a long time looking upon a woman brought pleasure to his tired eyes.

******

Cera noticed the stranger while she leaned against the bar, drinking her third cup of coffee for the day. It was the first chance she’d had to catch her breath. Business was brisk, as everyone wanted to talk about last night’s fire over some food and drinks.

He sat alone, hunched down into his faded officer’s coat, reminding Cera of the many war-weary drifters who had passed through her place. His worn boots rested casually on the seat of a chair, and though his Stetson sat low over his eyes, she got the sense he could see just fine. He seemed to be waiting.

More often than not, Cera could see trouble coming. When she looked at this stranger, an uneasy feeling rose in her belly. Unfortunately, she couldn’t decide if it was because of the bowie knife and Colt revolver strapped to his sides or because his tangled, dark hair and chiseled jaw made him the best-looking man she had seen in months.

As she pondered the stranger, his face moved out of the shadows, revealing a thick jagged scar running from the outer edge of his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Startled by the sight, Cera’s hand jerked, sloshing coffee over the cup’s rim. Their eyes met and, for an instance, Cera thought she saw a flash of anger in the stranger’s gaze.

Embarrassed, she turned away to hide the blush blooming in her cheeks. As she wiped her wet hand on her apron, she chided herself for such squeamish behavior. Since the end of the War Between the States, plenty of men had walked through the saloon’s doors with injuries far worse than a scar. There was no reason for this one to unsettle her.

When her composure returned, she sought out Ginger. “See that drifter over there?” She inclined her head slightly in the stranger’s direction. “Has he said anything to you?”

“Oh my, my, my, that dusty Yankee? I’ve been trying to catch his eye since he sat down. I think they’re blue, by the way. Too bad about his face, but luckily I’ve never liked my men prettier than me.”

Cera laughed, despite her present worries. “Well then, you’re the perfect girl to go charm him—find out what he’s about.”

Ginger’s painted on eyebrows knitted together as she cast a discreet glance at the stranger. “You think he’s trouble?”

“Maybe, but maybe I’m just nervous because of last night. Either way it will be good to know who he is and what he wants. He looks barely able to afford the beer sitting in front of him. Who’s been serving him?”

“Sonya, I think.”

“Try to get him talking. I’ll go see if he’s paid for anything yet.” Cera gulped the rest of her coffee and moved to where Sonya sat playing cards with three other men.

*****

Across the room, Jake watched the redhead and the saloon owner exchange words. Then, after grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass, the redhead sashayed toward the piano player. She whispered in his ear, and when he struck up a new tune, she began to sing in a clear sweet voice.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes and I will pledge with mine. Or leave a kiss within the cup and I'll not ask for wine…”

As the men in the room shouted their encouragement, the redhead twirled from table to table, stopping only for a brief flirt. As she ended the song, she stopped in front of Jake, striking a pose with one hand on her ample hip.

“You’ve been tasting that beer for a long time now, Captain. Want to try something better?” She smiled, waving the wine bottle at him. “My name is Ginger and I have here the finest sparkling white wine in all of California—from the Buena Vista Winery. It’s all the rage in Paris—very chic. The first drink is on me.”

In his mind, Jake saw the dinner parties that he watched from the top of the main staircase in his boyhood home. His parents and their friends dressed in finery, making toast after toast with wine glasses filled to the brim. His mother’s laughter always carried above the din of lively conversation.

Now in the smoke-filled saloon, his eyes traveled over Ginger’s gravity-defying bosom, colored hair and made-up face, including a painted on black mole next to her full red lips. The Southern belle held out the glass, waiting for his response. Fate sure had a mean sense of humor, he thought, smiling wryly.

He shook his head. “Your fine wine would be wasted on the likes of me.”

“Aw, now, I don’t believe that, Captain. You must have a taste. Some say this wine is the nectar of the gods.” Putting the glass in front of him, she filled it half way.

Jake studied the wine for a moment. “Which gods would those be?”

Confusion flitted across Ginger’s face before she replaced it with a cheery smile. Motioning to the chair beside him, she asked, “Do you mind if I sit down? I’ve been on my feet all day and could sure use a few minutes rest.”

Deciding it was time to get back to his original mission, Jake replied, “Not at all.” He stood and pulled out the chair for her.

Ginger smoothed the back of her skirt as she sat. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman. You don’t get fancy manners around here very often.” Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned in close to Jake, allowing a view of her best asset. “Your mamma sure raised you right. Now tell me, Captain, where’s your mama so I can thank her for having such a wonderful son?”

“The war’s over, Miss Ginger.”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep calling me ‘Captain’. I haven’t been a soldier for some time now.”

Ginger twisted a red curl around her finger and fluttered her eyelashes. “Well, honey, I don’t know what else to call you since you haven’t told me your name.”

“My name’s…not important, but maybe you can help me. I’m looking for a colored girl, sixteen years old, maybe seventeen at the most.” When Ginger jerked back in her chair, he stared at her in confusion.

“A colored girl?” she asked, almost choking on the words. Recovering quickly, she smiled, though it seemed to take some effort. “And here I thought it was only the boys in gray who liked to play with them. You’re in the wrong saloon if you’re looking for that kind of entertainment. Cera runs a proper establishment. There’s no girls for hire here.”

“Hold on there, Red. It’s not like that. I only want to talk to the girl. Her name is Sadie.”

Ginger rose from the table, knocking over her chair in the process. “Well, there’s no girl by that name here.”

Jake felt as if he had been kicked in the gut—again. “Did she used to work here? Did she say where she was going? I need to find her.”

Ginger shook her head. “I can’t help you out. You should leave, provided you’ve settled your bill.”

Jake stood and picked up the chair. At his movement, Ginger scurried backward, her eyes darting to her boss who was reaching under the bar. Jake had seen that move often enough to know what Cera was going for and he surely didn’t want the shotgun aimed at him.

He tossed some money onto the table and raised his hands in surrender, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I always pay my debts, but you are misunderstanding my intentions. I knew the girl’s father during the war. I promised him I would find her.”

Seeing the shotgun in Cera’s hands, Ginger stopped retreating and went on the offense. “That’s a mighty fine story, soldier. Who you working for? Who sent you here?”

“What? Nobody. Listen, I’m telling you the truth and I can prove it.” Jake reached into his coat pocket but froze when Cera raised the shotgun to her shoulder. “I just want to show you a photograph. Please?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sonya grab the young boy with the broom and hustle him toward the kitchen.

“Ginger, come away from that man,” Cera called out.

As the big redhead obeyed, Jake rested his hands on his hips. He hoped he looked annoyed, though the stance served a different purpose—keeping his right hand near his gun. He would never shoot a woman, but he might have to make some noise to get this one to back down.

Across the room, Ginger gestured at Jake several times, while the saloon owner kept her eyes locked on him. Finally, shotgun in hand, Cera came out from behind the bar and approached his table. The room went quiet as everyone waited to see if there was going to be a brawl or an execution.

“You need to leave—or else.” Facing him squarely, she threw the last word out as if it was her leather glove and the challenge to a duel.

Jake’s jaw clenched at her threatening tone. What in blazes did he do to deserve this? “Do you treat all of your customers this way or have I done something to offend you? I’m just looking for my friend’s daughter. I was told she worked here.”

“She doesn’t.”

Her green and gold eyes flashed fire the more she looked—no, glared—at him. Earlier, Jake thought she sparkled. Up close, though, he realized his mistake. It was more than that. She radiated.

Cera laid the shotgun across one arm, letting it casually point in Jake’s general direction. “Are you not understanding my words, soldier? I told you to take a walk.”

Unwilling to leave until he knew where Daniel’s daughter had gone next, Jake decided to take a risk. “How about if we start over? Let’s sit down, I’ll buy you a drink, and you’ll listen to my story.”

“I own the place. I drink for free,” Cera replied, pointing out the obvious.

“Well, then, you can buy me a drink.” Before she could say no, he pushed her into Ginger’s chair and called the redhead over.

“Miss Ginger, would you bring us two shots of whiskey, please?”