Laurel was silent for several moments. “You make no promises, and neither can I. I guess this is what you would call a ‘draw’ in poker. Nobody comes out the winner.” But she knew deep in her heart that she’d already lost, for she could never be any man’s whore, and she could never bring a child into the world to face ridicule and scorn.
“Win, lose, or draw, I’m in love with you, angel. Never forget that.”
He kissed her long, hard, and thoroughly to prove his point. And he did so in spades. But Laurel knew that kisses weren’t enough to sustain a lifetime, and the warmth of an embrace without commitment could turn cold at a moment’s notice.
Marriage was the only solution to her predicament. And marriage was the one thing Chance wasn’t offering.
CHAPTER 24
Hazen had wasted little time in spreading the news Pearl had overheard at Madam Eula’s.
By noon the following day, Laurel was confronted with eight angry, disappointed stares as she sat at the luncheon table, not the least of which came from Hortensia, who’d been apprised of Laurel’s alleged condition by none other than Drucilla.
“I hope you will put to rest these disgusting rumors which have been making the rounds, Laurel,” Hortensia remarked. “I had the misfortune of hearing some disturbing allegations concerning a rather indelicate matter.” She looked pointedly at Drucilla, who smiled maliciously at Laurel.
“Tell her, Laurel. Tell Mrs. Tungsten that you carry the gambler’s bastard inside you.”
A collective gasp rose at Drucilla’s less than circumspect remark, and all heads turned in Laurel’s direction.
Sipping slowly on her cup of chocolate, Laurel didn’t respond at first, but Hortensia’s look of disappointment and Gertie’s concern finally became too much to bear, and she set down her cup. “I will neither confirm nor deny Drucilla’s assertion and these so-called rumors which have been circulating about me. My personal life is not open to public conjecture. I will, however, offer my resignation, effective immediately. I don’t wish to bring notoriety to the league.”
Pleased to no end by the announcement, Drucilla folded her thin arms across her equally sparse chest and said, “I always knew you were nothing but white trash.”
“Drucilla!” Hortensia’s slap came out of nowhere, startling the young woman and bringing tears to her eyes. “Since your mother isn’t here to administer to you, I will. How can you be so cruel? Good Lord, young woman! Laurel saved your life.”
Tears coursed down Drucilla’s cheeks, which still bore the imprint of Hortensia’s hand. “I should have been the spokeswoman for this group, but instead you chose her,” she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Laurel. “A saloon singer with a pretty face and winning smile. Well, see how far that smile gets you now, Laurel Martin. No decent woman in this town will deign to speak to you. You’re no better than those whores you call friends.” She ran out of the room.
“That girl’s not right in the head,” Gertie offered by way of apology. Laurel had her faults, but she’d been kind and steadfast in her work, and Gertie wished no ill-will toward her, despite her poor lack of judgment.
With a deliberateness in both action and thought, Laurel rose to her feet. “I’m sorry to have caused such dissension. I will pack my belongings and leave immediately.”
Hortensia was truly aggrieved over the announcement. She saw great potential in Laurel, saw a little bit of herself at the same age, before life’s harsh realities had sucked all the optimism out of her soul. She prayed that Laurel would be spared that consequence.
“But, my dear, where will you go? I’m sure everyone here is in agreement that you should stay until you can work things out. We owe you that much for all the effort you’ve put forth for our cause.”
Touched by the woman’s kindness, and knowing what an awkward position she’d placed Hortensia in, Laurel smiled at her. “Unlike Drucilla, I do have friends. Perhaps they’re not the most respectable in the eyes of the league, but they’re loyal and kind, and they’ll take me in with no questions asked, no condemnation.”
Guilt rounded the oval table, landing undisguised on each lady’s face. Minerva drew herself upright and asked, with no small amount of disbelief, “You’re going back to the Aurora?”
Laurel nodded. “Yes. For the time being I’m going back where I’m accepted and loved for who I am, not what I could or should be.”
* * *
The awful truth of Drucilla’s words of warning hit full force later that day when Laurel and Crystal ventured to Hudson’s Department Store to purchase a new nightgown, a hairbrush—Drucilla had tossed Laurel’s into the water closet—and some other items Laurel needed.
The mustached gentleman whom Laurel had taunted so long ago stood in the doorway of the establishment, arms folded across his chest, barring their admission. “I believe you know the rules,” he said, and the smirk on his face when he looked at Laurel told her he’d already heard the gossip.
“We’d like to enter, sir. I have some items to purchase,” Laurel informed him in her haughtiest voice.
“We don’t allow your kind in here, nor hers neither.” He nodded in Crystal’s direction. “You both thought you were so smart that day you marched in here. You especially,” he said to Laurel, “pretending to be a fine lady when you’re nothing more than a prostitute like your friend. You might have fooled me that day, but I know the truth about you now. Go away before I have you thrown bodily into the street!”
Laurel’s cheeks flared red, and her eyes flashed blue lightning. “How dare you speak to us like that, you puffed-up, frog-faced man! We have every right to frequent this establishment. Our money is as good as the next person’s.”
“Mr. Hudson does not want your ill-gotten gains. He’s a respectable businessman and a Christian. We don’t want fornicating whores mixing with our genteel clientele. Now leave at once.”
Crystal, who’d been silent till now, grasped Laurel’s arm and said, “Let’s get out of here, people are starting to stare.”
Laurel gazed about to find curious eyes looking in her direction—narrow-minded eyes, suspicious eyes, cold and accusing. “But we have every right to shop here.”
Crystal led Laurel back out to the sidewalk. “I was afraid this was going to happen, honey. Gossip spreads quicker than butter on hot toast. And your reputation was already suspect from your working at the saloon.”
“But what are they so afraid of? I just wanted to buy a few personal items. I’m not contagious. I don’t have the bubonic plague. I’m pregnant, for heaven’s sake! A condition one can hardly catch by casual association.”
Smiling at the remark, Crystal linked her arm through Laurel’s, and they began walking back to the Aurora. “That’s just the way folks are, honey. You get used to it after a while and learn to ignore the icy stares and condemning looks.”
“I’ll never get used to being treated like some rabid dog, Crystal. I refuse to remain in such a coldhearted city.”
“Why don’t you just tell Chance the truth? I’m sure once he hears about the baby . . .”
“No! Chance has made his feelings perfectly clear. I won’t force him into marriage for the sake of a child. That wouldn’t be fair to either one of us, and it wouldn’t be fair to the child.” Chance had been responsible for another human being all of his adult life. To learn that she was pregnant, that he’d be forced to assume unwanted responsibilities, would frighten him even more.
“But, honey . . .”
Laurel drew to a halt and looked earnestly into her friend’s eyes. “Don’t you see, Crystal? Chance would grow to hate us eventually. He’d feel trapped and grow resentful. I won’t do that to him. I love him far too much.”
“What will you do?”
Laurel shrugged. “I’m hoping and praying that some solution will present itself. Until it does, I’ll remain at the Aurora and resume my former position, if Chance will let me.”
“The man is putty in your hands, honey.”
* * *
“I tell you it’s true, Chance.” Rooster was breathing so hard that his face was red, and he leaned against the bar to steady himself. “Flora Sue heard it this morning from one of the girls. Hazen’s been spreading the gossip all over town, and doing a bang-up job of it, I’m told.”
Laurel was pregnant? He could hardly believe it. She’d never said a word about it yesterday at the church. Or had she? “I want to be with you always, bear your children, be your wife.” No wonder she’d been so insistent on getting hitched.
“You don’t look all that surprised, Chance,” Rooster said, reaching for the whiskey bottle at his elbow. “Not for a man who just found out he’s about to become a father.”
“I guess it was bound to happen one day.”
Rooster chuckled. “I guess this means you’ll be getting married. Maybe we could have a double wedding. You and Laurel, me and Flora Sue.”
“A baby changes nothing as far as I’m concerned, Rooster. I’ve no plans to marry, but I’ll do right by Laurel and the baby. I won’t run from my responsibilities.”
Rooster downed his drink in one gulp, staring in disbelief at the man he’d called his friend for many years. “I never figured you for such a coldhearted bastard, Chance. That little girl must be frightened out of her wits, and you stand here talking about responsibility. Shee-it! I thought you loved her.”
Chance’s voice grew cold. “Mind your own business, Rooster. When I want your advice I’ll ask for it. Now why don’t you run along back to the Opera House. I’m sure you’ve got business to attend to.”
Rooster picked up his bowler hat from the bar and brushed it off. “Guess I’d rather spend time in my own company than in yours anyway.”
Chance heard the hurt in Rooster’s voice and saw the indignation on his face, but he ignored both. Why was everyone so free with their advice? It was his life, for chrissake! And he’d live it as he saw fit.
He had his reasons for not marrying. Maybe they seemed foolish to everyone else, but to him they were as valid as his love for Laurel. And she knew how he felt. He’d tried to explain to her that day in the church why he couldn’t marry her. Of course, she hadn’t accepted his reasoning. She’d countered his arguments with fairy-tale dreams and happily-ever-after.
But once Laurel knew that he was aware of the baby, she would expect him to marry her, despite everything he had told her. Jesus! Everyone would expect him to do the honorable thing, the gentlemanly thing, once they found out she was pregnant.
Reaching for the bottle of whiskey, he upended it and took a big swallow, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Whiskey always took the edge off a man’s conscience.
So how come he was still feeling guilty as hell?
He didn’t have time to ponder the answer, for Laurel and Crystal came bursting through the doorway, banging the door shut loudly behind them against the fierce wind.
“It’s starting to rain,” Crystal announced, unbuttoning her coat and hanging it on the peg to dry.
“Howdy, babe! My dick’s hard.” Percy squawked loudly in protest when Chance immediately threw a linen towel over his cage.
“Afternoon, angel. Did you enjoy your shopping trip?”
Laurel cast a cautioning look at her companion and shook her head. “We changed our mind about shopping, didn’t we, Crystal?”
The red-haired woman looked at Chance as if trying to communicate something, then she shrugged. “Guess so. I’m going upstairs. See you later.”
Frowning at her best friend’s abrupt departure, Laurel removed her coat and placed it on the peg atop Crystal’s.
“Did you two have a disagreement? I sense some friction in the air?”
“It’s nothing. Just a difference of opinion.” She kissed him tenderly on the lips. “It’s good to be back.”
He snaked his arm about her waist, noting the slimness of it, and wondering how long it would take for her condition to become noticeable. “It’s good to have you back, angel, and I’m not just talking about your outing.”
She knew what he meant. She felt the same way. But how long would she remain? That was the burning question.
“You look a little tired. You’re not sick, are you?” he prodded, on one hand hoping that she would reveal her condition to him; on the other praying that she wouldn’t.
“Why, no. I feel just fine.” In fact, she felt wonderful. The morning sickness of the past few weeks had been absent this morning, and she truly felt like her old self again.
He kissed her cheek. “Oh, I almost forgot. Bertha said a letter arrived for you while you were out. She’s keeping it in the kitchen for you.”
“A letter?” Laurel couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Do you know if it’s from my sister?”
“No, but I’m sure Bertha’s done a careful examination of the envelope by now. She’ll be able to fill you in on all the details.”
She started to leave, then halted and turned back to face him. “Will I see you . . . later?” The seductive note in her voice made his heart lurch.
“If you mean, will I be coming up to your room?—The answer is yes. But I’ve got a few things to take care of first.” He clicked open his gold pocket watch and checked the time. “Shall we say in about an hour? That’ll give you time to read your letter and me enough time to settle up some accounts. Newt Lally’s been hounding me for weeks about his butcher bill.”
She blew him a kiss and disappeared toward the kitchen; and Chance felt a terrible sense of loss envelop him.
Now that Laurel was back, he would do everything in his power to make her stay. Everything, except marry her.
* * *
With the letter from Rose Elizabeth clenched firmly in her hand, Laurel climbed the stairs to her room, feeling a mixture of melancholy and joy at Bertha’s ecstatic reaction to the news of her pregnancy.
“Me and Jup’s going to be grandparents!” The older woman’s face had glowed with pleasure. “Ain’t that somethin’? I’s so happy I could cry,” she’d told Laurel. And then she had lowered her massive bulk into one of the kitchen chairs and sobbed like a baby.
Laurel had no idea how Bertha had found out but it didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t take long before everyone knew she was carrying Chance Rafferty’s child. Everyone . . . including Chance.
What would his reaction be? she wondered. Happiness? Anger? A little of both? She sighed, wishing things had worked out differently between them. Chance would have made a wonderful husband and father if he’d just given himself half a chance, given them both an opportunity at happiness and happily-ever-after.
Shutting the door, and shrugging off her depressing thoughts, Laurel sat on the edge of her bed and tore open the envelope. Rose Elizabeth’s familiar scrawl was a welcome sight.
As she read, she discovered that Euphemia Bloodsworth, Salina’s town gossip, had become totally enamored of the Duke of Moreland, baking him cakes and inviting him over for tea. That revelation made Laurel smile, for Euphemia’s blood was reportedly made of vinegar and certainly never ran hot, as Rose was suggesting.
The house is all but complete, and I’ve set aside a lovely room upstairs, just in case you get it in your mind to come for a visit. I truly hope you will. I’ve missed you so. And Alexander has assured me that he wouldn’t mind in the least if I invited you to spend some time with us.
Spring is just around the corner, and you know how lovely it is here that time of year. Please take some time off from your work with the temperance league and come visit. Trust me, I can use all the moral and familial support I can get right about now.
Laurel’s heart started beating rapidly. The answer she had sought from divine intervention had come by way of Rose Elizabeth’s letter: She would go home to Salina!
“When the good Lord closes one door, he always opens another,” her dear mama had sa
id. Laurel breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her child wouldn’t have to be branded a bastard. She could fabricate a story of her husband’s tragic and untimely death. Widows were respectable, often cherished members of a community; welcomed with open arms.
Rose Elizabeth would have to know, of course. It wouldn’t be fair to impose on her and the duke’s hospitality without telling her the truth. But Rose would understand. She was a very pragmatic and practical woman, wise beyond her young years.
“Thank you, Rose Elizabeth,” she whispered, clutching the letter to her breast, her eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.
She would miss her friends here in Denver. She would miss Chance most of all. But she had a baby to think of now. She couldn’t put her own wants and needs ahead of what was best for her child.
Laurel Martin was going to be a mother. The naive girl from Salina, Kansas, who had stardust in her eyes and dreamed of fairy tales and Prince Charming, was no more. The new Laurel would be mature, businesslike, practical . . . like her sister Rose. Never again would anyone chide her for being out of touch with reality. Never again would she indulge herself in what-ifs and foolish desires. Tomorrow Laurel Martin would set her new life in motion.
But today the old Laurel would indulge herself in just one more fantasy. Today Laurel Martin would store away enough memories of loving Chance to last her a lifetime.
* * *
Weary and heartsore, Chance paused before Laurel’s door and sucked in his breath, trying to control his emotions.
He felt guilt over Laurel losing her position with the league—that weighed heavy on his shoulders; but the news that she had gone to Madam Eula’s to seek a remedy for her condition filled him with shock and disappointment.
He couldn’t blame her for wanting to get rid of the baby. He hadn’t offered her any alternative, any support. But in the deepest recesses of his soul he was glad she hadn’t gone through with it. Though he didn’t relish being a husband and father in the traditional sense, the child she carried was conceived out of the love they had for each other. And that love would survive, sustain them through the years, as no worthless marriage certificate could.
Sweet Laurel Page 30
