She decided, “I think I would like to visit Hupa.”
But when she turned her head, she saw Drew had already fallen asleep. She carefully draped the covers over his broad shoulder.
Her smile was bittersweet. He had said it himself. He was a love-them-and-leave-them kind of man. In the morning, he would leave her, and she would never get to visit the village of his childhood.
Chapter 15
When Drew woke up the next morning, he had to remind himself that he was a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of man, because the last thing he wanted to do as he gazed down at the sleeping beauty beside him was leave her.
She wasn’t only the prettiest lady he’d ever met. She was also bright. And passionate. And innocent. And caring. If he stuck around much longer, he was sure she’d grab on to a piece of his heart. And once she did that, he’d be knocked into a cocked hat for sure.
So before the sun rose, before she could make a bid for his affections with those soulful brown eyes of hers, he slipped quietly out of bed. Stealth was one thing that growing up on a reservation had taught him. While she slumbered on, he managed to dress and steal out the door, bidding her a silent, fond farewell.
He was sure Chase would come back to Paradise today. By now, the rancher would have caught up to him, found out that, no, the big, bad, brooding half-breed had not stolen his little girl. Chase would be sober and able to see things more clearly. He might still resent the rancher for keeping their grandmother as a slave. But revenge wasn’t in Chase’s nature. He might be big and brooding, but he wasn’t a violent man.
So Drew let himself out of The Parlor, onto the empty streets of Paradise. The sun was just beginning to lighten the skies, but it would be a while before it pierced the thick pine cover to touch the town. The only shop with any light on at all was the bakery. The smell of baking bread made his mouth water. He wondered if it was too early to buy breakfast—maybe something light and sweet, like a cream puff.
He hoped that by the time the dawn crested the mountain, so would his missing brother.
From the right hand side of the bed, Catalina frowned down at the empty left hand side. She knew she had no right to be disappointed. Drew had made no promises. In fact, he’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to be anyone’s husband. She should be grateful that he’d kept his word last night and not touched her.
Still, she was saddened to find he’d left. She wished she’d been able to give him a proper goodbye.
But what difference did it make? He was gone. He wasn’t coming back.
Still, all the logic and reason in the world didn’t keep her from sighing as she dressed. And when there was a knock on the door, it didn’t keep her heart from jumping, thinking it might be him.
It wasn’t.
“Jenny.” Catalina let her in.
The yellow-and-violet gown she’d redesigned for Jenny really did look splendid. But Jenny didn’t look well at all. She was pale. Her hair hung over her face. And she wouldn’t meet Catalina’s eyes. She was clutching a big bundle of white cotton before her, and she shyly handed it to Catalina.
“Can you…do anything about this?” Jenny asked.
Catalina carefully unfurled the cloth. It was a bedsheet. There was an ugly reddish brown stain in the middle and flecks spattered all over.
Catalina frowned at the marks. It was blood.
“Your monthly courses?” she gently asked.
Jenny shook her head, murmuring, “No. He said that…that always happens your first time.”
It took Catalina a moment to understand. Then she gulped. “Are you all right?”
Jenny looked anything but all right as she nodded. She looked as if she might burst into tears.
Inwardly, Catalina was horrified. It looked like a lot of blood. Surely that wasn’t right.
But she didn’t wish to frighten Jenny. “Do not worry. I will see what I can do.”
She gave the girl’s shoulder a squeeze of reassurance. But Jenny gave a small gasp of pain.
She released the girl immediately. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” She tried to smile. “He said he wants to see me again.” Her voice was soft, and there was a trace of fear in her words.
Catalina wasn’t sure what to say. “I have heard it is only the first time that is painful.” Even as she reassured the young girl, she thought she was probably the last person who should be giving advice on the subject.
Jenny looked up at her with hope. “Yes?”
It was then Catalina saw that one of her eyes was purple and swollen.
“What happened?” she whispered.
Jenny swallowed. “Nothin’. I just…fell.”
Catalina didn’t believe her. “That is not from falling. Did your man do this to you?”
Jenny clasped Catalina’s hands and made a panicked plea. “Please don’t say anything to Miss Hattie. And please don’t tell the other girls. I made a whole two dollars last night. I need the job. If I lose this job, I got no place to go. Please, Miss Catalina.”
Catalina felt sick to her stomach. But she didn’t want to make things worse for Jenny. It was bad enough that she’d lost her virginity, worse that the man who’d taken it had been rough with her. But if Catalina betrayed her trust, it would destroy the girl.
“I will not tell,” she reluctantly promised.
“Thank you,” Jenny said, her eyes welling with tears, “thank you.”
Catalina wondered if she was doing the right thing. No woman should have to endure such pain just to make a living. She only hoped what she’d told the girl was true, that the second time would not be so bad.
Jenny scurried out the door then, and Catalina scowled down at the stained sheet. It seemed like too much blood. And it seemed like two dollars was nowhere near enough for the loss of one’s maidenhood.
Twenty dollars was a ridiculous price to pay for a hotel room. If Drew were smart, he’d stay at The Adams, which was only two dollars a night. But then The Adams didn’t come with a companionable bedmate. Still, with the day growing longer and Chase nowhere to be found, it was clear Drew was going to have to find lodgings soon.
As he stood on the main street of Paradise, his eyes kept drifting to The Parlor.
Some unsavory character was probably sitting in the salon right now, drooling over his Cat. It made his stomach churn.
What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he had any say over what she did. He wasn’t even going to be in town much longer. And it wasn’t like he owned her.
On the other hand, he’d spent forty dollars on the woman. Hell, that was as much as he’d spent on his Colt.
No, he should just let her be and make a clean break of it. He’d managed to avoid a messy goodbye this morning. If he went to see her again, it would only make the leaving that much harder.
But every time he thought about walking through the door of The Adams Hotel, his gaze was drawn back to The Parlor.
“Ling-miwhxiy,” he muttered, spitting into the dust. Cursing himself for a fool, he let his feet take him down the boardwalk toward the brothel.
He told himself he was only trying to help her get enough money for that sewing machine she wanted. But even he didn’t believe the lie.
He only hoped Lady Luck was with him tonight, because he had just a few hours to earn twenty dollars.
He didn’t see Cat. But there was already a game going when he walked into the salon. The three rough-looking gents had the three things Drew always liked to see in players—piles of silver in front of them, an empty chair, and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey.
“Need a fourth?” he asked while the dealer was shuffling.
They eyed him with suspicion.
“You got silver?” the giant with the grizzled beard growled.
“Enough to last a couple hands, I hope,” Drew said.
The grizzled one glanced at the other two for their approval. The one chewing tobacco shrugged. The dealer, a brute with a
broken nose, hesitated.
“How about I buy the next bottle o’ whiskey?” Drew offered.
That got their attention. They kicked out the fourth chair and welcomed him with a nod.
Drew sat down and motioned to one of the girls for whiskey. Then he dug deep in his satchel into his emergency reserves and put the coins on the table.
Miss Hattie herself brought the whiskey and an extra glass.
“Make sure you boys save enough funds for some evenin’ entertainment,” she said, giving Drew a particularly pointed glare. “We got some real pretty girls available.”
The broken-nosed man grumbled, “Jenny’s mine.”
“Jenny’s yours,” Miss Hattie agreed, “long as you can pay.”
He shoved four silver dollars in her direction. She picked them up and dropped them into the top of her dress.
Then the man shuffled the cards one last time and dealt.
The three men weren’t difficult opponents.
The one chewing tobacco was careless with his cards. Every time he turned to use the spittoon, he gave Drew a good look at his hand.
The grizzled giant had a very bad poker face, and it got worse as he drank.
The man with the broken nose had a temper, which made him play badly. He punched the table every time he lost. By the time the whiskey was half gone, he’d lost so many times that one of his knuckles was bleeding.
Drew nursed his drink and cast an occasional glance at the balcony, hoping to see the prize that awaited him if he won enough hands.
It was around the time his winnings had increased to sixteen dollars that the trouble started.
“You got to be cheatin’,” the grizzled drunk said as he threw his losing cards into the middle of the table.
“Not me,” said Drew.
The second man, who’d already folded, moved his wad of chewing tobacco into his cheek. “Maybe you’re just a sore loser.”
The drunk glared at the tobacco chewer. They both jumped when the broken-nosed player banged his fist on the table, leaving a bloodstain on the three of diamonds.
“New deck!” he yelled at no one in particular.
Miss Hattie came over quickly, producing a fresh deck of cards. “Trouble, gentlemen?”
“He’s cheatin’,” the drunk complained, yanking his thumb in Drew’s direction.
“Who, Mr. Hawk here?” she asked. “Naw, I think he’s a straight-shooter. But mind you, don’t get your stash down too low. If your luck don’t change, you’re gonna want a little consolation.”
“I’m not gonna lose,” the drunk declared, “now that we have a clean deck.”
“Tell you what,” scheming Miss Hattie said. “Why don’t you reserve your entertainment now, like this gentleman did?” She motioned to the man with the broken nose. “Then you can celebrate your winnin’ with the lady…or ladies…of your choice.”
“Ladies?” The drunk gave her a stupid grin, as if that had never occurred to him. “How much for two ladies?”
“Well, Anne and Emily, they’re a nice pair. For ten dollars, you can have ’em both.”
“Ten dollars?” The drunk tried to count his money four times and failed.
“Looks like you’re just a bit shy o’ resources,” Miss Hattie said. “But maybe if you win this next hand…”
“I’m gonna win it,” he decided.
The tobacco chewer barked out a laugh.
The broken-nosed man shuffled the cards. Drew thought if anyone was marking cards, it would be him—the man with the bloody knuckles.
At any rate, Drew supposed he should make a point of losing a few rounds, just to keep the peace, even if he was impatient to lay claim to Cat for the evening.
Then he picked up his hand. The man had dealt him three kings…before the draw. He couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t possibly fold now, not with three kings. It would be a disgrace to the game of poker.
Chapter 16
When the tobacco chewer leaned over to spit, Drew didn’t bother glancing at the man’s cards. There was no way he was going to beat three kings.
The drunk straightened with smug optimism. He obviously thought he had a good hand.
The man with the broken nose had gone silent. He must be holding something worthwhile. But Drew was still pretty confident.
They all slid coins into the center.
The drunk took no cards.
The tobacco man took three cards and grimaced in indecision.
Drew took two cards.
The man with the broken nose took just one.
Drew got even luckier on his draw.
The bet was high, and the drunks actually giggled with glee as he doubled it. But Drew didn’t think that necessarily meant he had a good hand. The man’s judgment might be off.
The tobacco man hemmed and hawed and finally surrendered with a curse and a spit.
Drew glanced at the man with the broken nose, but his countenance was stone cold and unreadable. Drew tossed in his coins.
“Call.” The man’s bloody fingers shoved his coins into the pile. Then he fanned out his cards. They were all clubs, a flush.
The drunk proudly displayed his three queens, a seven, and a four. “There you go, gentlemen!”
The man with the broken nose growled in his throat. “Flush beats three of a kind, you numbskull.”
“What?” the drunk barked. “Since when?”
The tobacco spitter chimed in, “Since always.”
“That ain’t right,” the drunk complained, struggling to his feet and stabbing an angry finger into the table. “Those are three damn queens. I win.”
He started to scrape the money toward him. The man with the broken nose hammered his fist down on top of the man’s hand so hard that the drunk’s knuckles cracked, and he let out a wail.
“Leave it,” the brute grumbled.
The incautious drunk came around with his good fist and boxed the brute’s ear.
The tobacco spitter tried to intervene. “Hold on now.”
But it was too late to avoid a fight. Already the broken-nosed man was turning red, fuming with anger. He reared back his bloody fist and punched forward.
Unfortunately, the tobacco spitter got in the way. When the blow landed on his jaw, his wad sailed out of his mouth and onto the next table.
The drunk made the mistake of laughing. The tobacco spitter, with one hand cradling his jaw, used his free fist to deliver a belly blow that bent the drunk in half and turned his laughter into a groan of pain.
The man with the bloody knuckles started to collect up his winnings. Any other day, Drew would have let him get away with it. The man’s eyes were grim and gray, deadly and dangerous.
But at that very moment, Cat appeared on the balcony above. A quick glance told him that she was surprised to see him there. The whistles from the chairs around him told him that he wasn’t the only one pleased to see her.
If he collected his rightful earnings, he’d have plenty to pay for Cat. He could give Miss Hattie a nod and be up the stairs in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. If he didn’t, god only knew which one of Cat’s hooting admirers would snatch her up.
“Hold on a minute,” Drew said.
The tobacco spitter and the drunk were still shoving at each other. The man’s bloody knuckles paused over the coins.
“I believe that’s mine.”
“What?” the drunk exploded.
“Impossible,” said the man with the broken nose.
“It ain’t impossible if you’re cheatin’,” said the drunk. “I told you he was cheatin’.”
He tried to give Chase a shove. He missed and knocked over the bottle of whiskey, which poured into the broken-nosed man’s lap.
The man stood up at once with a curse. The front of his pants looked as if he hadn’t made it to the outhouse in time. He reached across the table and seized the drunk by his shirt, looking like he’d like to murder him.
“Aw, jeeze, mister, I’m real sorry,” the drunk
whined.
Drew wondered what he was sorrier about, ruining the man’s trousers or spilling the rest of the whiskey.
“Well, if you two are gonna fight,” the tobacco spitter said, putting his hand atop the pile of coins, “maybe I’d better get this out o’ the w-”
Both men turned on him at once. The drunk gave him a hard shove at the same time that the broken-nosed man tried to gut-punch him. When that punch landed on empty air, the man with the broken nose fell onto the table, scattering cards and coins.
Drew had judiciously held on to his cards, and he now scraped his chair back.
When a passing gentleman tried to retrieve a few dropped silver dollars to return them, the tobacco spitter misinterpreted the gesture and pushed him back, into a saloon girl, who gasped as she hit the wall and dropped her tray of wine.
Of course, the gentleman was then obliged to seek retribution for the girl’s injury. So as the three poker players fought for possession of the table, he removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared for fisticuffs.
The drunk scrambled for a silver dollar on the floor, and the tobacco spitter gave him a kick in the seat of his trousers that sent him careening into the second poker table. He knocked the table over completely, spilling everyone’s cards and coins.
The four players shot to their feet in outrage.
It didn’t take long for a skirmish to ensue. Boots kicked backsides. Fists hit faces. Bottles broke. Vases of flowers shattered. Men’s grunts and cussing were interspersed with ladies’ shrieks and gasps as everyone suddenly seemed to have a stake in the fight.
Everyone but Drew. He calmly gathered his full house of kings and deuces into a stack and stuck the cards in his pocket. That way he’d have evidence if there were any doubt he’d won the hand. Then, he carefully began to collect the coin he was owed.
Native Hawk (California Legends Book 3) Page 11
