Just After Midnight: Historical Romance

by Lori Handeland

  CHAPTER THREE

  Megan stood at the back door of The Celebration and cast her gaze over the dance hall. One week after her arrival … and the place became emptier every night. The girls’ glares had graduated from annoyed to hostile. She would be out several dancers if business didn’t improve soon; then Ian McMurphy would be able to take The Celebration without any fight, and she would be out on the street with nowhere to go in the world. If she weren’t careful, she could end up selling herself to stay alive. Then all of Alex Carson’s dire predictions would come true.

  Megan opened the back door and stepped into the heat and sunshine of a Yukon evening in July. She found it hard to believe summer temperatures could reach 120 degrees when 70 degrees below zero was common during the nine-month winter. She lifted her face to the sun, leaned against the side of the building and closed her eyes. Just when she was beginning to relax, something cold and wet pushed against her hand, startling her. Megan’s eyes flicked open and she glanced down. The scream stuck in her throat.

  Standing at her feet was the largest wolf she had ever seen—pure black and sleek, his head tilted to the side as he studied her. Megan held her breath while the huge animal leaned over to sniff her skirt. Seeming to recognize her, he wagged his tail and again pushed his nose into her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Megan tentatively patted the animal’s large head. The wolf rubbed against her good-naturedly.

  “I wonder where you came from, boy?”

  As if in answer, the wolf s hackles rose and a low rumble issued from his throat. Megan jumped, yanked her hand out of harm’s way as her heart thumped hard and fast. The animal had seemed so friendly. Then she saw he stared past her and toward the door.

  “What’re you doin’ out here, Lovey? The show’s about to start.” As usual, the volume of Queen’s voice would have startled the dead. Her eyes went to the wolf and she gasped. “Damon! Where did he come from?”

  “You know him?”

  “I should say I do. That’s your father’s wolf— well, part dog, too, he thought. Brian took the animal with him wherever he went, and we all thought it was killed with Brian in the avalanche. Guess we were wrong.” Queen eyed the animal warily. “Too damned bad.”

  “Don’t you like him?” The wolf now stood pressed against Megan’s knee, though he continued to grumble whenever Queen spoke. “He seems harmless enough.”

  “Damon never could abide anyone but Brian. Your pa found him by the river and raised him up from a little tyke. He seems to have taken to you though. Maybe he knows you’re Brian’s kin. I don’t know as I’d trust him though.”

  Damon shifted and growled. Megan glanced down to find the animal now glared at Queen, hackles still up. Ignoring Queen’s advice, she patted the mammoth head. At the touch of her hand, Damon relaxed and sat, staring up at her with open mouthed devotion.

  “Maybe so, but what am I supposed to do with him?”

  “That’s up to you. Right now I’ve got to get back to work. You comin’?”

  After another glance at the wolf, Megan nodded and followed Queen inside. When she turned to shut the door, she saw that Damon was at her heels. “No, boy. You have to stay outside.” She knelt so she was at eye level with the animal. “Listen, if you stay here and behave, I’ll bring dinner later.”

  The animal cocked its head, his odd yellow eyes seeming to bore into hers. Then he trotted out and curled up against the wall, tucking his nose beneath his tail. Megan gave a sigh of relief and closed the door. Since the wolf had belonged to her father, she would have to do something with the creature.

  She followed Queen inside and stood with her at the rear of the dance hall. The sight of only a half-dozen men waiting for the show made Megan’s heart sink. She had been so hoping the crowds would improve as the miners became used to her.

  “Another bad night,” Queen observed.

  “I don’t want to hear about it, Queen. I just don’t.” Megan rubbed at the headache beginning between her eyes.

  Hours later, the headache was no longer just beginning but had become a living, breathing entity in Megan’s brain. She sat at her usual table near the back and watched the unoccupied dancers glare at her.

  “Well, missy, looks like business is really booming for you.”

  Megan’s head thumped at the volume of Ian McMurphy’s voice next to her ear and she groaned. “What do you want, McMurphy?”

  She was in no mood to be civil to anyone, least of all him. She might have been afraid of him on his last visit; now she was merely irritated. The impending loss of her dance hall made fear of anyone or anything seem irrelevant.

  “Just thought I’d stop by and see if the rumors were true. At the rate your business is going out the door, you’ll have to pay me to take this place off your hands.” He laughed.

  “You worry about your business and I’ll take care of mine.”

  “You’re doing a great job so far.”

  “Get out,” she said, though she didn’t bother to look at him.

  He grabbed her by the arms and yanked her to her feet, “Look at me when we’re talking business.”

  Though her feet now dangled above the floor, Megan looked into McMurphy’s angry eyes. “Put me down. Then get out.”

  He let her go and she dropped to the floor; but before she could step out of his way, he placed a huge paw upon her shoulder. “I’ll leave when I’m good and ready, missy.”

  “My name’s not missy,” Megan snapped as she managed with no little difficulty to extricate herself from his clutches.

  A black flash at the edge of her vision caused Megan to turn quickly, just in time to see Damon lunge for Ian’s throat. McMurphy was quick for his size and managed to ward off the animal with a swipe of his ham-like forearm. The dog fell to the floor, then rolled up and into a crouch, growling, teeth bared, as he prepared to leap again.

  “Damon, no,” Megan shouted. The animal backed down, but the hair on his neck remained at attention as he trotted over to sit near her feet. He continued to emit low rumbles as he glared at McMurphy.

  Megan looked up to meet the speechless gapes of Ian and the small group of employees who had gathered around.

  “Only Brian could control him like that,” Queen said.

  Megan swallowed the lump in her throat. “Now, I can.” She was surprised to find her headache had disappeared.

  “Well, Mr. McMurphy, I suggest you leave my dance hall before I let Damon finish what he began.”

  Ian warily eyed the dog as he backed toward the door. “I’ll be back when you’re out of business, Miss Daily. I’m sure you’ll be glad to see me then.”

  As soon as McMurphy was out of sight, Megan collapsed into a chair. She patted Damon’s head and the dog stared at her with adoration.

  “Who let him in?”

  “Me.” Zechariah stood behind the bar. “McMurphy’s got quite a temper and it looked like you meant to rile him, so I let Damon on in. He must have decided you’re to be protected.”

  “Lucky for me,” Megan said as she remembered what it felt like to be held captive in McMurphy’s huge hands.

  “What did Ian say to you?” At the sound of Queen’s voice, Damon flattened his ears against his head and he snarled. Queen backed up a few steps, but the dog retreated at a snap of Megan’s fingers.

  Megan ignored Queen’s question, answering instead the question that had haunted her own mind. “I’m not going to let that man have the only gift my father ever gave me. Not without a fight. You said a few changes in my appearance would help with the business.”

  “Well—” Queen looked her up and down doubtfully “—I didn’t say just a few.”

  Megan waved her hand at Queen’s skepticism. Now that she’d decided upon this, nothing would stop her from going forward. “Whatever it takes. Since we’re required to close at midnight to observe the Lord’s Day, do you think you can have me ready by show time Monday?”

  “I can sure try. But you know it’s more than how you dress
that needs changin’; there’s your attitude, too. There’s ways of lookin’ at a man, promisin’ without actually followin’ through.” She peered at Megan. “Still, I think with a little practice, we might just bring you up to snuff, Lovey. You’ve got the looks; that helps.” With a sigh she turned to the other dancers. “Come on, girls; we’ve got work to do.”

  Megan snapped her fingers for Damon and followed Queen and the girls upstairs.

  The evening of July third arrived, sunny and hot. Not unusual for July, except that in Dawson City the sun would continue to shine throughout the night. Since the majority of the population in Dawson City was American, not Canadian, the approaching holiday had brought everyone in the surrounding areas to town. As a result, the saloons and dance halls on Front Street were filled with miners and townsfolk. The Celebration was not excluded from the crush of people eager to commemorate the spirit of American independence. For the first time in a week, the dance hall was packed with men waiting for the show to begin.

  Upstairs, Megan contemplated her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bath, and her heart moved into her throat. What was she doing? The woman staring back at her bore no resemblance to the Megan Daily she knew so well. This woman was indeed Meggie O’Day, the name Queen had insisted she adopt with her new appearance.

  “Megan is much too stiff,” Queen had told her earlier as she brushed Megan’s waist length hair. “To improve business you have to make the men feel comfortable with you. If you listen to me, Meggie O’Day can be the toast of this bog they call a town.”

  “I hate to pretend I’m someone else,” Megan insisted.

  “Lovey, how can you be someone else? That’s silly. It’s good business to present the merchandise to its best advantage.”

  “I’m not merchandise,” Megan mumbled.

  “I know you’re not, but they don’t know. Remember what I told you about men? They only believe what their eyes tell them is true. Keep ‘em guessing, and we’ll be the most successful dance hall this side of the Yukon River.”

  Megan had relented in the end, and now she stood waiting to descend the stairs, mount the stage, and introduce the girls for their late-night show. Queen thought she should make an entrance and allow her new appearance to stir up the crowd. Megan wasn’t so sure, but she had decided to let Queen have her way in this.

  The musicians began to play a lively tune and Megan gave her hair one last, unneeded, pat. The time had come to show herself to the world.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  All night Alex had been drawn toward The Celebration as he made his rounds through the streets of Dawson City. As the clock neared midnight, he gave in to the urge and entered the dance hall, searching the crowd for Megan. He found it odd she wasn’t somewhere downstairs with such a large mob present. Perhaps she was ill. For reasons he didn’t care to examine, the thought nagged at him. He searched the rooms more thoroughly for a sign of her, pushing men aside so he could get a glimpse of those seated at the gambling tables and checking every bar to see if she might be working behind it. Just when he had decided to go upstairs and knock on the door to Brian’s old rooms, music filled the dance hall and the crowd turned toward the stairway.

  Alex walked farther into the packed room and followed the gaze of the crowd upward. His mouth fell open and he stopped abruptly to stare at the vision descending the staircase.

  A dress of white satin clung suggestively to her form, the neckline too low, exposing most of her creamy breasts for inspection. A necklace of cut glass blinked brilliantly around her slim neck. Piled atop her head, her red hair sparkled with the stones glittering throughout the silky mass. A single, looped curl fell to her shoulder, drawing all eyes to the white satin of her throat. She rested a hand gloved in white on the head of the massive black wolf at her side. He, too, wore a collar of sparkling light.

  Alex exhaled slowly, unable to believe this woman was the passably pretty Megan Daily dressed like a three-hundred-dollar whore for the entire Yukon to see.

  What the hell was she playing at?

  Megan descended the rest of the stairs and made her way toward the front of the room. A small, shy smile played about her lips but she carried herself proudly through the crowd. Several of the men reached out to touch her, but a low rumble from the wolf at her side had them snatching their hands quickly away.

  Megan gracefully ascended the stairs to the stage and positioned herself in the center of the floor. She raised her hand and, instantly, silence blanketed the room.

  “Welcome to The Celebration, gentlemen.” Her voice, low pitched and somewhat hoarse, had never sounded so seductive during the few conversations Alex had enjoyed with her. He frowned as the crowd went wild.

  Megan flinched at the roar from the men. After swallowing deeply, she again smiled and lifted her hand. After a few moments the room quieted and she resumed speaking.

  “I’m Meggie O’Day and you’ll be seeing a lot of me from now on.” She paused until the whoops and whistles died away. “Now, I give you the dancing girls of The Celebration.” As the girls danced onto the stage, Megan scurried behind the curtain.

  Alex clenched his teeth, staring at the curtain where Megan had disappeared. For just a moment when she’d stood on the stage, an image of Joanna had replaced Megan, his sister the object of hooting, drooling men, and the thought sent a sheet of hot, red rage throughout his body, warring with his guilt. Breathing deeply, Alex attempted to bring his emotions back under control. Joanna was dead, he reminded himself, and nothing he could do now would save her—but he could save Megan.

  Determined to find out, Alex strode toward the stage. Ignoring the steps, he leapt onto the structure and walked into the wings.

  Megan stood alone, deep in thought. When Alex grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him, she gasped. The wolf snarled, crouching low to spring, and Alex froze.

  “Don’t move,” Megan said softly.

  “I don’t plan to.” Alex held his breath. “Do something.”

  “Down, Damon. He won’t hurt me,” she reassured the wolf. “It’s all right.”

  Damon continued to snarl, then began to circle Alex, his legs stiff and hackles raised.

  “You’d better be more convincing. I don’t think he believes you.”

  “Take your hand off me. Very slowly,” Megan whispered.

  Alex complied and the wolf eventually ceased snarling. Another sharp rebuke from Megan brought the animal back to her side, where he sat compliantly, though his feral eyes remained fixed on Alex’s face. She patted the massive head and turned to Alex.

  “You don’t need to reward the beast for nearly tearing me apart,” he said, irritated with her and her companion.

  “Damon only wants to protect me. You’d do well to keep your hands to yourself like the rest of the men around here.”

  Alex clenched his fists with frustration, knowing any false moves could anger the wolf again. “What are you up to with this costume?”

  “What costume?”

  “Come on, Miss Daily, you certainly don’t resemble the woman who fainted in my arms the day she arrived. Which is the act, the straightlaced woman of business or the high-priced whore?”

  Megan’s lips thinned. “As you’ve been told before, Lieutenant, The Celebration is not a brothel. The girls here can be bought for a dance—and a dance only. They have no need to sell themselves for anything more when they make so much merely by dancing.”

  “But you’re not one of the girls, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “I’m the owner of this establishment, as I’ve told you several times. I’m beginning to think you’re hard of hearing.”

  “No manager I’ve ever seen dressed like that.”

  “I’ve been persuaded that in the Yukon an owner does whatever is necessary to save her place. This—” She motioned to herself and shrugged “— has become necessary.”

  Alex stared into Megan’s smoky-g
reen eyes and saw the sadness beneath the anger. He sighed. “I’m sorry you’ve found it necessary to sell yourself.”

  “I’m not for sale, Lieutenant Carson.”

  “What would you call changing your appearance and your name to satisfy the men’s distorted views and relieve them of their money?”

  Megan tilted her chin up and looked him directly in the eye. “Survival.”

  The word caused him a momentary twinge of conscience. Perhaps she was right. He had no idea what it was like to be a woman alone. But he was beginning to get a picture.

  “I don’t mean to upset you,” he said gently.

  She tilted her head “You have.”

  “I’ve seen too many women drawn into a life of squalor. They all started out like you: pretty, young, in need of money. The combination is deadly.”

  Megan gave a tentative smile. “I appreciate your concern. Truly. But I own this place. All I’m trying to do is improve the business. If changing my appearance can help, I’m willing to be uncomfortable for a few hours.”

  “If you dress like one of the girls, the men will treat you like one of the girls. What do you plan to do about that?”

  “I have Damon for protection. As you’ve seen for yourself, he doesn’t approve of anyone touching me. The men will learn that I’m just for show and leave me alone.”

  Alex stepped toward her, surprised to find he had raised a hand to her face. “I doubt if any man could leave you alone, Megan.” He cupped her defiantly raised chin in his palm.

  She was so lovely—and she smelled so fresh, as though she had just stepped from a steaming bath filled with lemon-scented water. He breathed deeply of her fragrance as he rubbed weather-roughened knuckles along her cheek. Megan’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move away. Alex found himself wishing her into a dark, high-necked dress, the fire in her hair subdued by a schoolteacher’s bun. Imagination was always better than revelation, he had found. Her mouth parted as though she expected him to kiss her.