Patrick's Charm (The Bride Train, #2) (4 page)

Charm noticed the precocious seven-year-old wasn’t in his usual place at his mother’s side. “Where’s Danny?”

“He finished his school work, so I let him go play with his friends.”

“That’s good he’s making friends.” Charm looked around at the women who had become her friends and her drooping spirits lifted. They all came from different backgrounds, yet they had found a common bond in friendship. Rose even went so far as to call her
sister
after she had loaned the destitute young woman a pair of red garters on her wedding day. They jokingly referred to their tight-knit group as the Order of the Garter, a knightly sisterhood committed to each other’s welfare.

Charm opened her purse and dumped the coins into her lap. She would help her friends. They would do no less for her. “This should be enough to pay for at least one day’s rent. I’ll have more after tomorrow.”

Prudence gaped at the money. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s half my tips. I’m starting a job at O’Shea’s...as the star performer.” That sounded better than saloon entertainer. “I went over there today and auditioned for the position Mr. O’Shea had advertised, and he hired me.”

The bug-eyed looks were amusing, though not unexpected. Even so, she just offered to pay for their room and board. A
thank you
would’ve been nice.

“You can’t be serious!” Prudence’s outburst broke the awkward silence.

“Of course I’m serious. Does this...,” Charm gestured at the pile of coins, “look like a joke?”

“But...but a
saloon?
” Prudence wrinkled her nose, leaving no question as to what she thought about such establishments.

The other ladies looked equally horrified.

“We can’t take your money,” Delilah declared.

“She means you shouldn’t have to support us,” Hope added quickly.

Her defense was unnecessary. What Delilah meant didn’t matter. Charm chose to ignore the insult. “I don’t
have
to support us, I am
offering
to do so until we can work out different arrangements, or until you get married and move out.”

“What about you?” Susannah asked. “You came out here to be married, too...or that’s what you led us to believe.”

The room grew warmer. Or was the heat due to the coals of guilt being heaped on her head? Charm removed her bonnet. She did feel bad about misleading her friends. But every woman in the room had secrets they weren’t willing to tell. She was no different in that respect, and shouldn’t be judged.

She scooped the coins into her purse. “Nothing prevents me from changing my mind.”

“Only your word.” Susannah delivered the pointed remark with the accuracy of a master archer. Her arrow pierced Charm’s heart, and pain caused her to lash out.

“You’re one to accuse. How many proposals have you had? Dozens? A hundred?”

Susannah’s color rose. “No need to engage in hyperbole.”

“My point is, you’ve haven’t accepted one of them. At least I’m being honest about not wanting to be married, instead of leading everyone to believe I wish to be wed and then conveniently never making up my mind.”

The other women’s shocked expressions turned to frowning rebuke.

With her face burning, Charm turned and left without a word, not losing her composure until she reached the hall whereupon she lifted her skirts and fled up the stairs.

Why hadn’t she held her tongue? She had no more right to chastise Susannah than Susannah had the right to chastise her. She expected too much from women who’d been brought up to look down on people like her. They couldn’t be blamed for reacting as they did, and she shouldn’t hold it against them, no matter how much their attitudes hurt.

She would still pay the rent, because it was the right thing to do.

Upstairs, she dragged one of her large suitcases from beneath the bed she shared with Prudence. Twelve women had arrived on the bride train to a town with only one hotel. They had been crammed into small bedrooms and forced to sleep together on beds meant for one. She wasn’t sure how much the appalling lodging cost. Lodging wasn’t something she had to worry about before, nor was food or transportation. Her mother had taken care of those things, and then Simon. Now that she was on her own, she had to be smarter and ask more questions.

Charm lifted the lid and began to remove her costumes to examine them for needed repairs.

A swish of skirts alerted her to the fact she wasn’t alone.

“Why are you doing this, Charm?” Prudence asked.

Her bedmate couldn’t help prying. She must’ve been bored living on a farm in Illinois because she took so much interest in everyone else’s affairs. To her credit, she didn’t gossip.

“I should think I made my reasons clear. I’m not interested in marriage, and I need a way support myself.” Charm went back to sorting through her costumes, checking for tears, or heaven forbid, insect holes. The custom-made clothing represented a small fortune and her mother had taken great care to preserve the costumes in a cedar-lined trunk. The large trunk was too heavy for a quick escape, so a suitcase had to do. She made a mental note to find out where to purchase a cedar trunk so she could ensure her costumes would be well protected—yet another thing to worry about.

Prudence hovered behind her. “Please don’t turn away. I’m not here to scold you. I-I just don’t understand. Why would you give up the respectability of marriage to go to work in a saloon? The whole town will believe you’re a...a...”

“An entertainer.” Charm supplied the label, knowing full well it wasn’t the one Prudence couldn’t spit out. Her stammering attempt to converse about something she found uncomfortable would be funny, if it weren’t insulting. “I will be singing and dancing and performing skits. That’s all.”

“That’s
all?
” Another horrified look from Pru, this time without scrunching her nose. “Even stepping into a saloon can be ruinous to a woman’s reputation, much less singing and dancing in one.”

Charm tossed rainbow colored petticoats onto the bed. She couldn’t expect Prudence, or any of the others reared in conventional families, to understand her Bohemian lifestyle. “This isn’t the first time I’ve sung in a saloon.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t performed in a place like O’Shea’s since childhood, having advanced to opera houses and theaters. “The only reputation I care about is the one I’ll establish by being the best at what I do best. Performing.”

“I didn’t know, you never told me.”

There were a great many things she hadn’t shared, in spite of being given the story of her friend’s entire life. Sadly, it wasn’t very entertaining.

“Some things are best kept to oneself.”

Pru’s eyes grew sad. “You’ll never find a decent man to marry you if you take that job.”

Continuing to pretend seemed pointless. Her parents’ unhappy union had dampened Charm’s enthusiasm for marriage. Her experience with Simon had put the nail in that coffin.  “I don’t need to find a decent man because I don’t intend to be married.”

“Then why did you answer the ad?”

Another somewhat spontaneous decision. Though Simon had given her no time to deliberate.

Charm ventured a confidence. “I had to escape someone who had too much power over me.”

“Oh no.” Prudence commenced to wringing her hands. “Don’t tell me, you’re already married and you’re running from a husband.”

“My sins aren’t that great.” Charm didn’t expound. She dared not reveal everything, even to Prudence. One slip of the tongue and word could spread as faster than a cholera epidemic. Thus far, she’d told the other women she had traveled around the country and occasionally sang for people. Her story wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. If her true identity got out, Simon would find her.

Fear coated her skin in ice. Simon had stolen more than her faith in others. To the world, he put on a good show of being caring and concerned. He had fooled her, too, for a time. She was wiser now, and would be on her guard against charming men...such as Mr. O’Shea.

“If you aren’t married, you could be,” Prudence insisted. “You’re so pretty and smart and talented. All the men fawn over you. You’d have your pick of the litter.”

Pick of the litter
, a colorful way of putting it, and appropriate, if one considered men little more than beasts. 

“I’ll leave the men for you. You’re the one who wants to be married so badly.”

The moment the words left Charm’s mouth, she regretted them. Her friend’s golden brown eyes reflected surprise, and hurt. Prudence had reached her third decade unmarried and believed no one could want her. The thoughtless remark only reinforced her insecurities.

“I’m sorry, Pru. That was unkind. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Charm examined the tattered shawl in her hands, part of her costume when she played a servant girl dubbed Little Marchioness. She could make herself look attractive, as well as look like an old hag. She could play any part, except her true self. She didn’t know that part anymore.

Charm forced herself to look her friend in the eye. “The truth is, you are as attractive as I am. Actually, more so, because you hide your natural gifts and I enhance mine. I don’t have your womanly figure. Without all the padding, and my face powders, eye kohl and lip stain, I look rather plain.”

“Oh pshaw, you couldn’t look plain if you tried...and you don’t have to flatter me. I know what I look like, I’ve seen my face in the mirror.” Prudence smoothed her hands over a stained apron. Flour caked the edges of her fingernails. The poor woman spent all her time in the kitchen, helping out. No wonder she hadn’t found a husband.

“You shouldn’t let Mrs. Fry take advantage of you.”

Prudence shrugged. “I like to cook, and I’m counting on a man noticing my skills.”

Charm had to admit her friend’s plan seemed sounder than hers thus far. “Once some handsome farmer gets a bite of your sausage gravy and biscuits, it’ll be love at first sight...I mean, bite.”

Amusement eased the tension. Charm returned to sorting costumes. “Thank you for coming up here to check on me.”

“Everyone’s concerned. We all love you...”

Loved her? That couldn’t be true. They’d sat there looking at her with condemnation in their eyes. Or had she only seen what she expected?

“That’s why we don’t want you to leave.”

Where did Pru think she would go? To live over the saloon with Mr. O’Shea? The image brought on a warm flush far too pleasant to be proper. “I’ll be living here, so don’t get your hopes up about having a bed to yourself. Right now, I’m just checking my costumes, in case any need repairs.”

Prudence eyed the gowns with longing. “The dresses are so pretty...and the petticoats.”

None of them would fit her, or Charm would’ve offered one. Her friend’s drab clothing selection and severe hairstyles didn’t do her justice. “Would you like to help me select what to wear for my debut performance?”

“What about this one?” Prudence lifted a snow-white dress made of silk with a tulle overlay.

Charm’s stomach knotted. That was her mother’s favorite, too. For different reasons.

“La Belle Enfant. The name fits you, my dear. You look so young. So innocent. When you wear this dress, especially. You stir men’s protective urges. Make them feel heroic. At the same time, they burn to possess you. This is your power. Use it to your advantage.”

The white dress had made her famous, so she couldn’t dispute its effectiveness. Much as she hated it, she wasn’t responsible for the dichotomy of men’s emotions toward innocent girls. As Mama had so frankly stated, she was giving them what they wanted.

Maybe that was why Simon had assumed she would welcome his advances.

Charm frowned at the disturbing thought. “That one will get dirty.” She wouldn’t wear it regardless. Someone might recognize her in the signature costume. “Saloons aren’t the cleanest places.”

“I imagine not. How can you stand being around drunken men?” Prudence scrunched her nose. That bad smell again.

Charm had grown up over her father’s saloon in San Francisco. Back then, she hadn’t known any different. “I suppose I’m used to it.”

“What will you do if the men...lose control?”

“Assault me, you mean?” She didn’t add that the only man who had assaulted her wasn’t drunk. She would use a portion of her earnings to purchase a pistol in case he caught up with her. “I trust Mr. O’Shea won’t allow me to come to harm.”

“How can you be sure? You don’t know him.”

Why she felt secure with the brawny Irishman, Charm couldn’t say. “If I see reason to doubt, I’ll find another way to protect myself.”

Prudence draped the white dress on the bed with a reverence that made Charm flinch. White stood for purity and innocence. Charm could claim neither.

“You’re set on it, then,” Pru said softly. “There’s nothing I can say to talk you out of it?”

The die had been cast long ago. Charm knew no other life, nor did she want a different one. She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

––––––––

P
atrick woke early the next morning in an optimistic mood. Even the stiffness in his muscles didn’t seem as bad, or maybe it just didn’t bother him as much because his thoughts were occupied with visions of his good luck charm.

That would be a good stage name. He would suggest it when he met with Miss LaBelle to hammer out an agreement. As much as he despised the impersonal nature of contracts, he could see the value. Once word got around about her astonishing talent, the other saloon owners would try to hire her away. Having her signature on a legal document would protect his interests.

Hobbling to the dresser, he picked up a small pill and rolled it between his fingers. Each morning, he’d crush the opium into the bottom of a glass and mix the bitter medicine with sugared whiskey. The stuff would work its magic and he’d be able to move with less pain. But over time, he found he needed more to get the same relief. The more he took, the slower his mind worked.

He put down the pill. He could do without the medicine this morning, and if he made it through tomorrow, he might find he didn’t need it anymore. By the time he dressed and ate his usual breakfast, oat porridge liberally doused with honey, he felt much better.