September's Dream (11 page)

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It was the day before payday. September could hardly wait. Helping Billy load the wagon with buckets of food and tins of blueberry pies, she added the shirts, pants, and jackets she had mended for miners, to be delivered along the way.

At a makeshift tent, she dropped off two dollars’ worth of sewing. At a small wooden grain store, she deposited two shirts and two pair of men’s pants, collecting four more dollars.

She made nearly a dozen stops before the clothes were all parceled out.

Billy’s eyes grew round as she pocketed the money. "I think maybe you’re going to be the richest lady in Skagway, September."

"I will be when I find my father," she said evenly. "In another week I should have enough money to buy the gear I need and hire onto a pack train. When we come back sitting on piles of gold, I’ll hire you to guard it."

Getting caught up in her dream, he laughed. "And I’ll buy my ma the prettiest dress in the world. It’ll be red velvet, with little white buttons all the way up to here, and down each sleeve."

Recognizing her trademark, she grinned. "I believe I’ve seen one or two like that."

He turned an earnest expression to her. "I’ve never seen anyone look so beautiful as you in that dress, September. You look like one of those princesses in Ma’s books."

They rounded the corner of a building. "Oh, Billy. You—" She stopped.

A man raised a tree branch as big around as his leg and brought it crashing down on a dog lying in the dirt.

"Stop that." Rushing forward, September caught his arm. "Stop. Don’t hit him again."

Flinging her away, the man raised his arms again and sent a crushing blow to the whimpering mass at his feet.

Blood oozed from the dog’s side and mingled with the dirt to form a muddy red pool.

"Oh, Billy. Help me. Help me stop him." September rushed at the man, dragging on his uplifted arm.

Dropping the handles of the cart, Billy joined her. The two of them could barely restrain the cursing man.

"You two kids stay out of this. It’s between me and him."

"No. Can’t you see he’s helpless? You’ll kill him if you hit him again."

"He’s too damn mean to die. That’s the meanest dog I’ve ever had. And by God I’m going to keep beating him until he’s learned his lesson."

As he lifted the club over his head, September frantically reached into her pocket and withdrew the money.

"Wait. I’ll give you everything I have to buy this dog."

The man stared at the bills in her hand. "Are you crazy? This dog is vicious. He’ll just turn on you the same way he turned on me."

She thrust the bills into his hand. "I don’t care. I can’t stand to see him bleeding and helpless. Take the money and give me the dog." She glanced at the bloody form of the animal. "Or what’s left of him."

The man counted out the bills, his eyes glittering with greed. "Take him. I got the best of the bargain. But I’m warning you. If he ever comes near me again, I’ll kill him."

Kneeling in the dirt, September ran a hand gently over the dog’s flank. He flinched, but made no sound.

Billy stood over her. "What are you going to do with him now?"

She thought a moment. "Go unload the food at the grub tent. Then bring the cart back here. I’ll haul him home, then see that the cart is back at the grub tent in time for you to load everything for the return trip."

He lifted the handles of the wagon. "I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with him when you get him home. Aggie will throw a fit if she sees this mess."

"Don’t worry about Aggie." September lifted the dog’s head and cradled it in her lap. It’s tongue lolled to one side, his eyes half shut. "Just hurry and get that cart back here."

As Billy left, she brushed the sand from the dog’s face and crooned softly to him. "Don’t you worry, old thing. Nobody’s ever going to lay a hand on you again. And that’s a promise."

The dog weighed more than September. When Billy returned with the wagon, it took both of them, sweating and straining, to load the barely conscious animal.

Billy gave her a skeptical look. "I got to get back to the grub tent. Think you can manage this by yourself?"

"Don’t worry. I’m stronger than I look," she said, with more enthusiasm than she really felt.

It took her over an hour to maneuver the heavy burden over the deep ruts in the sand. Slipping around to the back of the boardinghouse, she opened the door to her room, spread a blanket in the corner, then, coaxing and shoving, finally managed to settle the big husky into an exhausted heap on the floor of her room.

With a bucket and rag, she washed his wounds carefully and applied disinfectant. Though he whimpered whenever she touched an especially tender spot and flinched as his open wounds were cleaned, he was too badly injured to do more.

When he was completely cleaned of all the blood and dirt caked in his fur, September sat back on her heels to admire his coloring. In the dappled sunlight streaming through the open door, lush blacks and browns glinted among patches of purest white. Like all dogs of his breed, the fur was thick and velvet to the touch.

He opened his eyes to study his surroundings. She let out a gasp of pleasure. His eyes were a strange blue-gray.

His eyes closed. His breathing was shallow.

Satisfied that she had done all she could, she set a dish of water beside him and hurried out to return the cart to the grub tent.

When she returned to get ready for her job that night, the dog was sleeping restlessly.

At a soft tap on her door, she hurried across the room to peer through a crack. Relieved to see Billy, she moved aside to let him in.

"I was afraid it was Aggie."

"She’s sitting in the parlor with a couple of the roomers." He glanced down at the bundle of fur in the corner. "How’s the dog?"

She shook her head. "He hasn’t moved since I brought him in."

Billy sat down and ran a hand along the thick fur of the dog’s neck. "You’re one lucky dog, you know that. Getting rescued by the prettiest lady in Skagway, and even getting to share her room."

"Billy."

He looked up in surprise, then ducked his head. "Yes sir. You’re one lucky dog."

A smile spread across September’s face. "That’s what I’ll call him. Lucky." Walking toward the door, she turned. "Will you look in on him before you go to sleep, Billy?"

He gave the dog a final pat, then stood and walked with her out the door. "Sure thing, September. Only I sure hope he doesn’t bark."

As she walked toward the saloon, she thought about Billy’s words. She fervently prayed that Lucky wouldn’t bark or cause any commotion. If Aggie found him, they would both be out on their ear.

Aggie had patiently put up with a lot since September moved in. But she was pretty certain a vicious, wounded dog would snap the tenuous bond they had formed.

September hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Maybe this time her impulsive nature was going to get her in more trouble than she could handle. What if the dog attacked her while she slept?

She shook off the vague feelings of unease. She’d really had no choice. There was no way she could allow that man to kill the dog. Her heart lurched. It had looked so helpless, so beaten. She thought of the day she arrived at Skagway, feeling alone and desperate.

There was something special about that dog. Lucky. He had appeared in her life for a reason. And for now, she wasn’t going to worry about his reaction to his rescuer, if and when he recovered his strength. Right now, she was concerned over whether or not he would even survive the night.

Jase Conroy tied his horse and strode through the swinging doors of Rawlins’ Saloon. He hadn’t wanted to come here tonight, just as he hadn’t wanted to come here every night since that first. But seeing her had become a compulsion. He could no more stay away than he could stop breathing. She haunted his dreams. And during his waking hours, as he went about his chores, her image was with him. He could see her, all soft and delicate, standing on stage in that prim gown. Her hair was a silvery cloud, begging him to plunge his hands into it and savor the silken texture. That deep husky voice played over his nerves until he was as taut as a bow string. And her mouth. Thoughts of her lips on his tortured him. There was no release for it. He had to see her.

He began inventing excuses to come into town every evening. His friend, Jacob Mueller, had seen him more in the past few days than he usually saw him in months. Jase stopped by the store, exchanged pleasantries, picked up a few supplies, which he really didn’t need, then headed for the saloon.

"Whiskey," he said to the bartender.

Before it was poured, one of Rawlins’ women stepped up beside him. "Buying me one, Jase?"

"Sure." He nodded to the bartender, who poured a second drink.

She touched his glass with hers, then tossed down the liquid and set the empty tumbler on the bar. "Where’ve you been keeping yourself, Jase?"

"Getting a team ready. Takes a lot of my time."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Can’t take up all your time. Want to go upstairs?"

He set his drink down and turned to face her. "No, Annie. But it looks like you’ve got more customers than you can handle lately."

"In my business, that isn’t always good news."

He chuckled. "You complaining?"

She joined his laughter. "No. But some customers are just more—pleasurable than others. Sure you won’t change your mind?"

At the shake of his head, she gave him a last, lingering glance, then wandered toward a poker table. A moment later she was pulled down on the lap of one of the players. Her trill of laughter could be heard above the din.

With a curious detachment, Jase watched as miners dickered with Snake Rawlins for the small, boxlike booths around the stage.
Leave it to Snake to cook up another scheme to bilk the miners out of their gold
, Jase thought. He probably sat up nights dreaming of these things.

Jase heard the expectant hum of the crowd which always signaled the arrival of the Velvet Voice. Like the others at the bar, he turned and strained for a glimpse as she made her way to the stage.

At the first sight of her he felt the familiar tightening in his throat. Tossing back his drink, he straightened, and shared the tension of those around him.

Blackie played a ripple of notes, followed by several dramatic chords. Then, with the piano playing softly in the background, September began speaking the words of a new song, about a miner and the girl he left behind.

Jase felt as if he were the only man in the room. She was speaking those words just for him. The flickering lights of dozens of lanterns cast her features into a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. Her eyes glowed like a cat’s.

While she entertained, September’s gaze swept the crowd. Surrounding the stage sat miners with enough money to pay for the privilege of box seats. Beyond them, the gamblers and drifters sat at poker and faro tables, or crowded around the bar. At first glance, they were a sea of faces, all straining for a glimpse of her. As she scanned the crowd more slowly, her gaze was arrested by the tall man at the bar. The gunman who had saved her. Seeing the sudden look of recognition in her eyes, he inclined his head slightly. Their gazes met and held.

Jase felt the sweat trickle between his shoulder blades and down his back. The moment she even looked at him, he felt the heat. What would the touch of her be like? What would it be like to take that slender woman into his arms and hold her to him, mouth to mouth, flesh to flesh? The thought stirred a need that left him stunned.

Again September felt the touch, as tangible as if he had reached out a hand to her. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her chest rose and fell, as if breathing were an effort.

Finishing the song, September blinked and broke eye contact. For one brief moment, she felt drained. Acknowledging the applause with a smile, she signaled the piano player and immediately launched into a second song. Carefully avoiding the spot where the stranger stood, she sang the entire song with her gaze fixed on a spot on the wall.

When the second song ended, she watched in amazement as Rawlins’ women rushed into the boxes with the miners and began loudly ordering bottles of champagne. Even before the applause ended and she hurried from the stage, the girls latched onto the hapless miners and began spending their money.

Snake Rawlins watched as September climbed the stairs. Removing that back wall had been a stroke of genius. Now she had no choice but to go upstairs between acts. It was only a matter of time before he could put her to work up there as well.

He glanced around at the faces of the men and noted with satisfaction that all of them were watching the fluid movement of her hips as she walked upstairs.
What they wouldn’t pay
, he thought,
to have a peek at what was under that modest velvet dress.
Smiling, he turned away, and saw Jase studying him.

He froze. Of all the men in this town, Jase Conroy was the only man Snake Rawlins feared. Snake already had the law in his pocket. And most of the drifters who came through Skagway were willing to look the other way if they saw something that wasn’t quite right. But Conroy was different. He was a loner. There was no way of telling what he was thinking. His eyes were the steeliest Snake had ever seen. He had the determined look of a man who saw everything through to the finish, no matter what the outcome.

Most men had a price, or could be conned. Snake had a feeling that Jase Conroy was the exception. That’s what made him so dangerous. He was his own man. And no one was sure just what he was. He had the look of a hired gun. But Snake wasn’t about to risk his neck by poking into his affairs.

Acknowledging him with a nod, Snake hurried across the room to see how his girls were doing with the new scheme.