by Scott, Tarah
Allison walked to the hotel.
“I’d like a room.” She looked at the front deskman across from her. Hotel work would pay a modest amount and perhaps she could earn room and board. She could clean the rooms, or work at the front desk. A flutter of excitement tickled her belly. Endless possibilities awaited her.
“Pay by the month and get a five dollar discount.” The clerk read a paper and didn’t look up. “Room gets cleaned once a week.”
“That’ll be fine.” Allison pulled the drawstring of her purse and retrieved a few bills. “May I inquire if you’re hiring?”
“No.”
“No, I can’t ask or no, you aren’t hiring?”
“No, we ain’t hiring.”
She sighed. “Thank you. How much for a month?”
“Ninety-five.”
“Dollars?” she asked, shocked.
The clerk nodded. “Three-fifty a night, twenty-five dollars a week, or ninety-five for the month.” Exasperated, he finally looked up at her. “Do you want a room?”
She nodded. “One night, please.” She carefully counted out the money. Change of priorities, find a place to live and try to find a job at the same time.
Once settled in her room, Allison took a bath and headed out. The town bustled with people and construction, but not the stone or brick buildings of Boston. Most were wooden structures. She entered the mercantile and approached the counter. “Do you have a bulletin board?”
The plump woman behind the counter nodded to the far wall. Allison thanked her, crossed the room, and glanced over the few pieces of paper. A knot grew in the pit of her stomach. There was plenty of work. Work for men who were prepared to break their backs working in the mines or willing to travel to the fields to work with the ranchers. There were also a few jobs for skilled labors, skills she didn’t possess.
“Excuse me,” she said to the woman. “I’m looking for a job.” Allison pointed to the bulletin board. “I don’t see any work for women. Do you know of any jobs around town for a lady?”
The woman laughed, making her stomach bounce, and revealing the gap in her dark yellow, front teeth. “There’s always work at the saloon. I guess you don’t look like the kind of girl needin’ work around here.”
Allison hoped she hid her horror, keeping it from her expression by pressing her lips together. No need to panic, there was always opportunity for a person willing to work hard.
“I don’t suppose you’re hiring.” Allison stood at the counter, resting her arms along the smooth, polished wood.
“No, I don’t suppose I am.” The woman came from behind the counter.
“Then perhaps you know of a boardinghouse or room I could rent for a modest amount?”
The woman chuckled again. “Honey, ain’t nothin’ affordable around here. Haven’t you heard? We’ve got ourselves a copper rush? Two hundred men a week come into town. You’ll be lucky to find a stall in a stable.” She took a feather duster and began sweeping it along the shelves full of merchandise. Bolts of fabric, clocks, and farm equipment filled tables running the center of the store. Food items lined one wall. Cans of beans and bags of coffee, sugar, and flour piled high behind the counter. There were brooms in a canister next to the door as well as shoes stacked in boxes in front of the large picture window at the front of the store.
“Thank you for your time.” Allison tried not to sound dejected.
“You get a room at the saloon if you’re a certain kind of gal,” was the last thing Allison heard as she walked onto the busy sidewalk outside the mercantile.
That night as Allison lay in her hotel bed, she wondered if she had made a mistake in coming to Montana. Maybe she should have gone on to California. It couldn’t be any worse than a mining town. In her ignorance, she’d thought she would get off the train and have a job before nightfall. Working as a whore seemed to be her only job prospect. She didn’t run from a life of servitude to Henry Oakdale to lay down with strangers.
Serving drinks in the saloon would be better than her alternative, but like the proprietor of the general store stated, that didn’t solve the problem of a place to live. Boardinghouses around town were full. Even if they weren’t, she couldn’t afford the rent.
She heaved a heavy sigh. Truthfully, she couldn’t afford to venture onto California nor could she return to Boston with the limited money she had. Her fate was sealed. Copper City may not be the small town she imagined. Nonetheless, she was determined to find a home here.
Chapter Two
The following morning dawned dark and cold. Shivering beneath the bedspread, she pulled her knees to her chest and tightened into a ball. Her teeth chattered.
She glanced out the small window. Smoke curled into the air and blended with the gray sky. A few flurries drifted in the air, a sign of what was to come.
At first, a light dusting of snow powdered the streets, but then the wind began to blow. By midmorning, she couldn’t see the far side of the street from her hotel room window.
And the snow continued to fall. She brought the noontime meal to her room, eating every morsel hoping to stave off the feeling of an empty stomach until tomorrow.
By late afternoon, the streets resembled those of a ghost town. Businesses closed. The only sign of life came from the saloons. Folks who couldn’t get home because of the spring blizzard opted to spend their evening sipping watered-down liquor, and in the company of ladies eager to please.
Three days passed in dreary white boredom. Money trickled from her resources. Allison had no choice but to check out of the hotel. In effort to stay warm, she layered on as many clothes as possible.
At this point, every penny mattered. The idea of getting a job at the brothel slipped into the back of her mind. First, there was one alternative she was desperate enough to try.
The snow had stopped but many roads out of town were impassable. Allison went to the general store and rechecked the work board. Nothing had changed but there was still an option. She grabbed the slip of paper from the board and tucked it into her pocket. Now she needed to see the blacksmith about procuring a ride.
Passing a beautiful mansion under construction made Allison a bit nostalgic for life in Boston. Comfort and pampering weren’t important to those working in the mines and working the land. Copper City didn’t have cobblestone streets.
Allison swallowed the lump of regret and reminded herself that she chose this life. She was here because she wanted to be and that alone should make her happy.
A few blocks down the street, she found the blacksmith.
“I need transportation to somewhere called…” She dropped her satchel and took the slip of paper from her pocket. “…The Bester Ranch.”
“And what t’would a lass like you be need’n with the Bester’s?” the blacksmith asked with a thick Irish accent.
“Business.” She clasped her hands in front of her dress to keep from fidgeting. “Would you be able to arrange transportation?” This was her last vestige of hope. She needed a proper job. One wasn’t available. Her next best solution was finding a job that wouldn’t bring her principles into question, and she couldn’t do that unless she somehow got to that ranch.
The blacksmith stood and wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist.
“I would be happy to pay a reasonable fee,” she offered when he hesitated.
“Wagon o’er there…” He nodded his head toward a wagon in front of the mercantile. “He’s a lad from the Bester’s. Comes t’ town once a week for supplies if the weather holds.” He hitched his trousers up by the belt loop and spit into a snow bank behind him. “Bonne lass like yourself should’na have any trouble.” He winked and then turned back to his fire pit.
“Thank you.” She grabbed her bag, lifted her skirt an inch off the ground, and hurried across the slick road.
The man couldn’t have been much older than twenty. He was wearing a heavy winter coat with a wool collar pulled high around his neck.
Allison stood n
ext to the wagon and waited for him to finish positioning a crate of supplies before she interrupted. “Excuse me.”
He turned in her direction and adjusted the rim of his cowboy hat. He nodded an acknowledgement and then lifted another crate.
“The blacksmith said you worked at the Bester Ranch.”
The man stood and wiped his brow with his coat sleeve. After removing one of his gloves, he retrieved a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and rolled a cigarette.
“It’s imperative I get to the ranch.” She switched her bag from one hand to the other. Trying to sound professional, she angled her chin and met his gaze directly. “I have business with Mr. Bester. I would be happy to pay a reasonable fee.”
“No need for that,” he said, clenching the cigarette between his teeth and put his glove back on. “Give me thirty minutes.”
“Thank you.” She felt like clapping her hands, but restrained herself. “I guess I’ll get a cup of coffee. If you have a canteen, I’d be happy to have it filled.”
“That’d be great,” he groaned as he lifted a heavy satchel. “Don’t be late. Another storm’s coming and I want to beat the snow.”
“Thirty minutes.” She clutched her bag and walked a half block to the restaurant advertising hot coffee and fresh pastries in the window.
* * *
They made introductions as he helped her onto the buckboard.
“How far is it to the ranch?” Allison asked the young man who called himself Train.
“Depends on whether it starts to snow again. Should be there before supper.”
Allison pulled her coat a little tighter. The time was barely noon now and since leaving the shelter of the city, it seemed colder.
They rode in silence mixed with sporadic comments for a while before the conversation became easier.
“You’ve got a real pretty voice. Can’t place the accent. Where’re you from, Miss Lake?”
She giggled at his easy drawl and pleasing dimples. He was soft spoken and handsome and that made her self-conscious sitting so close to him on the swaying buckboard. His voice was warm and deep, making her think of cedar and molasses. There wasn’t anything rushed about the man. A few days worth of whiskers shadowed his strong jaw. His eyes were the color of the darkening sky out ahead of them. His thick coat hid the muscles of his arms, but he had to be strong. The reins were secure in his grip.
“Boston,” she answered his question. “I’ve only been in Copper City a few days. I have to admit, I’m quite surprised at the size of the town. I thought the western territories would be different. I’d hoped to find a small community where I could build a quiet life.” She nearly bit her lip at the slip. She hadn’t intended to reveal her uncertain beginnings in Copper City. Revealing too much would leave her open to questions she wasn’t inclined to answer. However, Train didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.
“You got family around here?” He watched the road, and the horses plodded through the drifts.
“No.” She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on the snow covered landscape instead. They were in a small valley. Towering on each side were tree-covered mountains.
A few hours into their journey, Train pulled a sack from under their seat. “Are you hungry?” He placed the bag between them. “I’ll share my lunch.”
Embarrassed for not thinking of bringing her own lunch, she said, “No, thank you. I ate before we left.”
“If you change your mind, help yourself,” he said, pulling a crusty piece of bread and a piece of jerky from the bag and then taking a bite.
Allison’s stomach growled as Train ate the sandwich in five bites. He chuckled softly and looked at the sky. It had grown dark, not just from the winter sun sinking behind the mountains, but because the sky turned ominous. Snow began to fall again. “Doesn’t look like we’ll beat the storm,” Train said.
“Is there somewhere for us to stop?”
Train pulled his collar up around his ears. “Nope, we ride it out. Hopefully we’ll get to the ranch before we run out of road.” The smile on his face told her not to worry.
“Is your given name Train?”
The brow over his left eye arched.
“Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“People call me Train because I run back and forth to town and drive the herds to auction. Just about everyone at the ranch has a nickname given by the boss. Hell, even the boss goes by TJ. I don’t think anyone knows his real name. Well, except for me.” He winked at her.
“How do you like working at the Bester Ranch?” Allison tried to sound casual, but she was extremely interested in learning all she could about TJ Bester. She hoped he had an open mind because she was going to apply for a job he’d advertised for a man. There had to be something on a ranch as large as the Bester’s for her to do. She didn’t have experience with anything, so whether helping in the fields, or the house, she needed training.
“I’ve worked for the Bester’s since I was able to sit on a horse and muck out a stall.”
“What about Mr. Bester?” She pressed. “Is he a good boss?”
“Well, there’s not much I can say there. He’s a fair man who works hard for what he has. He’s a private man, Miss Allison, and he doesn’t take to people’s gossip. I figure if you’re expected on business out at the ranch, you know enough about that yourself.”
Allison didn’t feel it necessary to correct his assumption. She was not expected and probably not wanted. With a persuasive argument, she’d just have to convince TJ Bester that she was the right man for his ranch.
It was dark when they pulled up to a large building with several illuminated glass windows. The plain looking structure set apart from a few other out buildings. “I’ll take you up to the house as soon as I check in. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Train set the break and then jumped from the buckboard. A roar of laughter erupted from inside when Train opened the door and disappeared into the building.
Allison looked into the distance. The main house sat on a bluff overlooking the property. From here, Allison could only discern a few details. Large bay windows flickered with pale light. When a lump formed in her throat, she swallowed hard. The house looked like a home. A place for a family. She ached to belong somewhere, anywhere.
“Ready?” Train jumped up, released the break, and set the horses moving.
As they approached the sprawling, two-level mansion, Allison gasped a breath. Numerous windows glowed with firelight. Several chimneys jutted from the pitched roof and spewed gray, billowing smoke. The front door was centered in the middle of the main floor, windows banked both sides. A wide porch wrapped around the entire length of the building. Silhouetted in the darkness, several large trees stood like barren sentries.
And within a few minutes, Allison was climbing the steps and walking across the wood plank porch. She smiled as she stepped over wooden blocks and avoided bumping into a rocking horse someone had obviously spent a great deal of time carving.
Train knocked twice and opened the door. “TJ!” he hollered as he entered the house. “Just got in. I’m heading back out to the shack. Miss Allison is here.” He turned to her. “Miss, are you okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. Her mouth was dry, and her heart pounded from her chest into her head. Sweat trickled from her hairline and it had nothing to do with the heat caused by wearing her wardrobe—all of it—in layers. Her carpetbag held a special dress and a few personal effects. It hung in her hand like a hundred pound weight, making her shoulder sag. She glanced around the room feeling like a deer in a hunter’s rifle site. Train’s voice beside her brought her out of her stupor.
“He is expecting you?”
Allison could only shake her head no.
“What are you doing here?”
“Train? I thought you left.” TJ Bester descended the grand staircase leading to the second floor rooms. “Hello.” He extended his hand to Allison. “TJ Bester. A friend of yours?” he asked Train.
“Um,�
�� he stammered. “No.”
Allison would have spoken, but her mouth wouldn’t form words. Standing before her was not an old rancher with weathered skin that she could bat her eyelashes at and manipulate into giving her a job out of pity. TJ Bester was a beautiful example of strength and masculinity with a commanding air of confidence. Her heart hammered in her chest, and not for the first time since coming to Montana Territory. They’d met before.
Familiar wide shoulders tapered into a trim waist. Strong thighs were clad in denim trousers, and he wore brown socks. His work boots sat neatly next to the door. Hair the color of coal grew thick and just a bit unruly. He was ruggedly handsome in a way that made her anxious. His eyes seemed to glow and were blue so clear she could have been gazing into still waters.
“Papa,” a little girl, no more than five or six, caused enough of a diversion for Allison to pull her stare away from Mr. Bester.
“Watch your brother, Sissy. I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned toward Train. “Go check the tiger. He’s in the tub.” Train took the stairs two at a time grabbing the little girl and tickling her as he turned the corner. Allison could hear her squeals even after she disappeared from view.
“Miss?” He paused for her to say her name.
“Allison Lake,” she said with a determined tilt to her chin. She was sure she looked a mess from her wet ride to the ranch. Evidently, a far cry from the woman he assisted on the train platform. With the added clothing and a few restless nights, she scarcely recognized herself when looking in the mirror. Not to mention it was late. She was tired and hungry. It had been hours since she’d eaten, and she was beginning to feel light-headed.
“You’ve come a long way. What can I do for you?”
TJ slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the stair railing. He knew this would be interesting.
The young woman’s fingers trembled as she opened the clasp of her small clutch. He recognized the paper she unfolded and smoothed with her hand. He felt his mouth twitch. She stared at the advertisement she must have taken from the mercantile. The next time Train went into town, he’d have him hang another one.
