She missed the taste of freshly dug truffles.
That was what she missed most—the truffles that grew in the woods around her home. She closed her eyes, imagining the musky, earthy flavor.
“Well, my word,” she suddenly heard from behind her. “I see you found yourself a position.”
She craned her head around. It was the obnoxious blond man from the dry goods store, the one she had slapped across the face.
“Looks like a real nice position.” His eyes slithered over every curve of her body. “Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, Missy?” he said with a sneer, reaching down to give her bottom a familiar pat.
Her blood boiled. But before she could heave the entire bucket full of soapy water over his thick head, Miss Hattie intervened.
“Why, Delbert Akins,” she said, sweeping up to take him by the arm, “we haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Howdy-do, Miss Hattie.”
“You know, Mary’s been pinin’ for you.”
“Is that a fact?” His eyes slid to Catalina. “Well, I might have somethin’ else in mind today.”
Miss Hattie blinked, feigning ignorance. “And what would that be?”
“I kind o’ like the looks o’ your new girl.”
“Catalina?” Miss Hattie forced a laugh. “She ain’t for sale.”
“Name your price,” he said. “Three dollars? Four? Every woman’s for sale. It’s just a matter of for how much.”
Catalina stiffened. She was definitely not for sale…at any price.
“You’d be wastin’ your money,” Miss Hattie said.
He shrugged. “It’s my three dollars.”
Three dollars—just for spending a few hours with a man. It took Catalina three days, working from dawn to dark, to earn such an amount.
She forced her attention back to her work. Dipping the rag into the bucket, she wrung it out with a twist and a squeeze, imagining it was Delbert’s neck.
“Trust me, Del, you don’t want her,” Miss Hattie said.
“Says who?”
“Honey, she wouldn’t know a tallywag from a polliwog.”
“I could teach her…real fast.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you could,” Miss Hattie agreed, “but then who would scrub my floors?” Before he could come up with another argument, she called upstairs, “Mary, honey! Look who’s here!”
Mary thankfully obliged by opening her door with a gasp of delight. “Delby, sweetie!” She gave him a childish pout. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten all about little old me.”
“How could I forget you, darlin’?”
She came out to the balustrade and gave him a coy smile. All the men downstairs voiced their appreciation. Apparently, one glimpse of Mary in her ruffled pantaloons was enough to persuade Delbert to forget all about Catalina. He shoved two silver dollars into Miss Hattie’s hands and took the stairs two at a time.
When he was gone, Miss Hattie sidled up next to Catalina and murmured, “Sorry about that, honey. Delbert’s a bit…persistent. But Mary knows how to handle him. I’m sure he’ll leave you alone now.”
Catalina nodded. It wasn’t that she couldn’t defend herself. She was perfectly capable of cutting a man down to size with a few sharp words or a kick between the legs.
But she was afraid such behavior would not be agreeable to Miss Hattie. Miss Hattie treated her clients as if they were kings, even the ones who acted like peasants.
It wasn’t the first time a man had mistaken Catalina for one of the prostitutes. Most of the men were mortified and apologetic when they realized their error. But to be honest, a few times she’d wondered how sinful it would be to pretend she was one of them. In one discreet evening with a few gentlemen, she could make half a month’s wages.
Emily even suggested that Catalina might get herself a regular. Some of the ladies considered themselves kept women. They had men who visited so often, they were almost like husbands. A girl could make a nice living that way and even make believe she was in love.
But of course Catalina would never do such a thing. She couldn’t live with herself if she did. If she ever gave herself away like that—and at the moment she had no interest in such a distraction—it would be to one man only, in marriage, a devoted man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.
The women who worked here didn’t seem to consider the lasting consequences of what they did. They were young and beautiful now. They had companionship and amusement. They could have any man they wanted.
But what would happen when they grew old, when the men chose younger, prettier companions? Who would come to their side then? Who would share their laughter and tears when they were gray and wrinkled?
The stain on the floor was faded now, so she dropped the rag in the bucket and hauled herself to her feet. There was just enough time before supper to pick fresh wildflowers for the salon.
Just as she lifted the bail of the bucket, she heard a gasp and a loud crash. Jenny, the young saloon girl, who couldn’t get used to the men pinching her backside, had dropped a tray…again. Shards of crystal burst on the wooden floor. Wine made red rivers across the planks, dissolving into the shoreline of carpet. Jenny’s cheeks were flaming as she mumbled out an apology and fled the salon in tears.
Catalina sighed, looking at the mess. Now she’d have to forego the flowers. It would take her an hour to clean up every splinter of glass, and she’d never get that dark stain out of the rug.
She glanced up at the closed doors on the second floor and tucked her lip under her teeth.
In a single month, plying the trade of the ladies upstairs, she could make enough money to buy a sewing machine. Then Miss Hattie could hire someone else to scrub floors and polish furniture, and she’d never have to do it again.
She tried not to think about it as she slogged the bucket across the floor to the crimson lake that was soaking into the carpet.
Drew Hawk wasn’t listening. He was too busy looking over his shoulder as he and his twin brother, Chase Wolf, headed on foot to the Redding stage stop.
Chase was jawing on again about the vision he’d had and the message from their dead grandmother. Apparently, the vision had told Chase to go to the ranch where their grandmother had been kept as a servant. That was why, for the first time since they were infants, they were venturing south to the little mining town of Paradise, the place that had once been the land of their father’s people, the Konkow.
At least that was why his brother Chase was on the journey.
Drew had his own reasons.
They might be twins, but he reckoned their looks were the only thing they had in common. The blood of their native father seemed to flow in his brother’s veins while Drew had the spirit of their white mother.
His brother was a decent, honorable man. He was an upstanding member of the tribe. He lived on the Hupa reservation, where they’d both been raised, and he earned a respectable income from his work as a blacksmith.
Drew, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to leave home and go to the big city. He’d never cottoned to the peaceful ways of the Hupa. He preferred to have a poker deck in his hand, a Colt in his holster, and the open road under his feet. He was as restless as a rolling stone.
Although lately, he felt more like a loose cannon.
His last escapade proved that. He’d been lucky to get out of Shasta with his neck intact. But it looked like his luck might not hold out.
He’d learned that the Shasta sheriff’s son, Billy, had done more than knocked himself out in that fall. Word was he’d hit his head so hard on the saloon floor that he’d never woken up. They’d put him in a pine box the next day. The crazy thing was the sheriff was blaming Drew for his death.
He blew out a long breath.
Chase misread Drew’s sigh. “You know, it’s not too late for you to turn back.”
“Turn back? Why would I do that?” Hell, if he turned back now, he’d run straight into the sheriff’s posse on his trail. He’d made the mistake o
f telling the boys in Shasta he was from Hupa. They’d know right where to find him.
Chase glared at him pointedly. “You keep looking back like you’ve got a hankering to go home.”
“I’m just…watchin’ for minim’millediliw.”
Chase snorted in disbelief. They both knew there weren’t any mountain lions around at this time of day. They walked another five steps before he quietly added, “All I’m saying is you don’t have to come.”
“O’ course I do.” Drew bumped him with his shoulder. “Who else is gonna keep you out o’ trouble?”
He was teasing, of course. Chase never got into trouble. If he ever did, Drew was the last one he should depend on to get him out of it. But it was the same lie he’d told their folks—that someone had to watch over Chase.
The truth was Drew needed to get out of Hupa fast, and he had to get his identical twin out of there too. A case of mistaken identity could mean they’d string up his innocent brother for a crime neither of them had committed.
Going along on Chase’s vision quest was as good an excuse as any to leave the reservation. It sure beat either of them twisting at the end of a rope.
The thought made Drew wince. It was too easy to imagine a noose around his neck. He adjusted the strap on his knapsack and cast another anxious look over his shoulder.
“What the hell are you looking for, brother?” Chase demanded. “And don’t tell me wildcats. What is it? Someone following you?”
Drew scoffed. It was unnerving the way Chase could sometimes tell what he was thinking—unnerving and inconvenient. “Prob’ly the little filly I left back in Shasta.” He winked. “I think she might have been startin’ to hear weddin’ bells.”
Chase growled out a sigh. Drew knew Chase had no patience for his romantic escapades and didn’t understand Drew’s special affection for the ladies.
Drew was a heartbreaker. There was no denying that. He adored women, and they were drawn to him like ants to honey. But most times he didn’t take things any further than a kiss on the cheek.
He might be a silver-tongued flirt in the saloon. He might buy a lady a drink or offer to cover her bet when she lost.
But though he was a risk-taker when it came to poker, he played his cards close to his chest when it came to matters of the heart.
It was probably because his parents had such romantic beginnings. They’d built a bridge between two very different cultures—whites and Konkows. Against all odds and a heap of disapproval on both sides, they’d managed to make it work.
His mother had left civilization.
His father had left his tribe.
But they’d taken refuge in Hupa so they could raise their half-breed twins in peace. Sakote, their father, doted on his white wife, and Mattie’s eyes still lit up when she gazed on her native husband.
Drew wanted that kind of love—eventually.
In the meantime, he’d put up with having a reputation as a ne’er-do-well and a womanizer, flitting like a greedy xontah-yayliwh, bumblebee, from flower to flower. People never understood that it was just the kind of life a poker player led, especially when you were a good poker player. You had to keep moving.
One day he’d settle down, build a big ranch house with a white picket fence, fill it with a brood of little Hawks, and wake up every morning to a warm and welcoming wife who was as pretty as a bisque doll.
But for the moment, why would he chain himself to one town and one woman when females and fortune were always calling from around the bend?
“There it is,” Chase said, nodding to the stage stop ahead.
He and Chase had come from Hupa yesterday by wagon. Today they’d take the stage from Redding to Chico, and then hire a buggy to take them up the hill to Paradise. The trip would take all day. But that was fine with Drew. He’d just as soon sneak into town after dark. Nothing attracted quite as much attention as a pair of six-foot-tall half-breed twins. And the last thing he wanted to do was attract attention.
Drew resisted the urge to glance behind him one last time. With any luck, the sheriff would guess Drew was in the next state. He’d never dream that the man he was looking for was currently less than a dozen miles from the Winsome Saloon.
He flipped his pocket watch out. It was 6:30. The stage left at 7:00.
It would be after midnight when they arrived at their final destination. He wondered if there’d be any good late night card games in Paradise.
Chapter 5
It was past midnight, and Catalina was still working—mending a tear in Anne’s petticoat.
Jenny’s accident with the wine tray had robbed two hours out of Catalina’s day. Slivers of crystal had found their way under the furniture and, a few times, into her fingers. The stained carpet had to be rinsed and blotted dry several times. It turned out that Jenny had dribbled ruby wine on her yellow silk dress as well. Only by drenching and blotting it repeatedly with vinegar was Catalina able to lift out the spot.
But there would be no extra time to catch up tomorrow. Her responsibilities filled every waking hour.
She sat sewing by candlelight in her room. Through her door, which was slightly ajar, she could hear men’s voices coming from the salon downstairs. She furrowed her brow. They were very late. The ladies were already tucked into bed with their partners for the evening. There were no prostitutes left.
But that never stopped Miss Hattie from being hospitable. She made a bottle of whiskey and her company available at all hours. As the madam liked to say, you never knew when a lonesome millionaire might come waltzing into The Parlor with more dollars than sense.
Catalina yawned. She couldn’t hear what the two men were talking about. Their conversation was muffled. At one point they raised their voices and seemed to be having a disagreement. She hoped they weren’t expecting to find a companion at this time of night.
She knotted the last stitch three times and snipped off the ends of the thread. Holding the petticoat close to the candle, she examined her handiwork. It should last…at least until one of Anne’s less careful lovers tugged at her drawers a little too eagerly.
Catalina gave her head and the petticoat a brisk shake. She didn’t like to think about such activities, not when they involved her friends. She flipped the thimble off of her finger, draped the petticoat over her shoulder, and wearily rubbed her eyes.
She didn’t wish to disturb Anne and her gentleman caller, so she planned to leave the garment on Anne’s doorknob.
The men were still arguing downstairs. The last thing she wanted was to attract their attention as she crossed the balcony.
She glanced at her bare feet. It was too much trouble to put her boots back on. Besides, she could steal down the hallway more quietly without her shoes. So she rose and slipped carefully out the door.
She glanced down briefly at the salon, just long enough to glimpse Miss Hattie hovering over two black-haired men seated there. Then, tiptoeing along the hallway, she hooked the mended undergarment over Anne’s doorknob.
As she turned to go back, she could hear the men’s conversation. One of them was trying to talk the other out of going somewhere in the middle of the night. While they were distracted, she crossed the balcony and stole back into her room, closing the door softly behind her.
She untied her apron and tossed it over the chair. Her dress followed after. Because of the kind of labor she’d been doing of late, she’d stopped bothering with her usual layers of undergarments, corset, and bustle. She simply stepped out of her single white petticoat, shook it and draped it atop her dress.
She caught her reflection in the mirrored dresser. How much she’d changed since she’d arrived in Paradise in her impeccably tailored cocoa-and-cream ensemble. Clad in only a camisole and drawers, she didn’t look very different from the ladies of the evening.
She rose and took the pins out of her hair, one by one, placing them in the crystal dish on top of the dresser, letting the black curls fall over her shoulders.
Then there
was a knock at the door.
It was probably one of the clients who’d gone to the outhouse and returned to the wrong door. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. She’d peer out through a crack in the door. He’d instantly realize his mistake. Then she’d ask him whose room he was looking for and steer him in the right direction.
But when she cracked opened the door, it was Miss Hattie.
Her heart sank. What had she forgotten to do? She’d already undressed. She was exhausted. Couldn’t it wait until the morning?
But Miss Hattie had a curious expression on her face, the same expression she’d had that first day they’d met, as if she were judging Catalina’s character.
“Si?” Catalina asked.
“You’ve been here almost a month, ain’t that right?” she murmured.
“Yes.”
“And you seem to be…fittin’ in real well.”
Catalina tapped impatient fingers on the door. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow? She answered with forced courtesy. “Thank you.”
Miss Hattie chewed at her lip.
Catalina frowned. Miss Hattie was usually quick and clever, but at the moment she was struggling for words. What was bothering her?
Miss Hattie leaned closer to the crack of the door and whispered, “How would you like to make a little extra money?”
Catalina’s shoulders drooped. There were already too few hours in the day. How could she possibly add another job to her schedule?
Miss Hattie hastened to add, “I don’t want you doin’ somethin’ you ain’t ready for. Lord knows it’s not everyone’s cup o’ tea.”
“Cup of tea?” Did Miss Hattie want her to start serving tea in the salon instead of scrubbing floors? That might be a pleasant change.
Miss Hattie beckoned her closer with her finger. Catalina leaned in until their faces were inches apart and she could see every wrinkle in the madam’s powdered face.
“How would you feel about…havin’ a gentleman caller?”
Catalina’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” She was afraid she knew exactly what Miss Hattie meant.
Native Hawk (California Legends Book 3) Page 4
