“A gem?” She’d heard Jewel use the term before, though wasn’t exactly sure what she’d meant by it.
“That’s what Jewel calls the young women who work here, honey. This is Opal,” Nettie nodded to the pretty brunette, “and the girl who’s taken your hand in a death grip is Amethyst.”
“Sorry,” she said as she released her. “And please call me Amy. Us gems tend to stick together and we welcome new girls into the fold easily. Unlike some houses where it’s nothing except for back biting and pettiness.”
“I do need work, as I can’t afford the inn much longer.” Her eyes flicked over the stairs once again.
“But you’re not sure you can go upstairs,” Opal suggested. “That’s what’s special about the Red Petticoat. You do only what you’re ready for. No pressure.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Jewel said softly, reentering the conversation at last. “If you can dance, there are plenty of customers who enjoy that. Or if you have other talents…”
“I can dance! And, I can play the piano,” Carissa suggested. “All I know is classical music, not something your customers would enjoy, most likely, but I’m a quick learner.”
“I have that covered, although I always need girls to serve drinks, smile prettily at the prospectors who are looking to relax after a long day of digging or panning for gold. Or you could deal cards.” Jewel smiled when Carissa shook her head. “Perhaps you can sing.”
The thought made her grimace. “I have a good ear for music, though sadly, I can’t sing a note on key.”
“Then you can dance and serve drinks, and that includes a room on the first floor, so you can save your money.”
“A room too? That is very generous.”
“That’s Jewel, generous to a fault,” Nettie agreed, nodding at the madame. “She’s saved us all in one way or another.”
“Now, Nettie…” With color tinting her cheeks at the praise, Jewel turned to Carissa. “You can start tonight if you like.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What will you call her?” Opal asked excitedly.
She felt the madame’s slow inspection, in the end focusing on her face and hair. “I think the choice is obvious—Coral.”
“For her hair?” Nettie asked, tilting her head as she studied her thick mass of red hair. “Paprika, maybe, or cayenne pepper, but neither of those names are gems.”
“Not her hair, her cheeks which are a lovely peachy-pink. Especially when she blushes.” As if on cue, she did that, heat suffusing her face.
“Yes,” Nettie grinned. “I see it now.”
“As do I,” Opal smiled.
“Me too,” Amy agreed.
“What do you think? Coral?”
She didn’t know what to think, but they were all so nice and welcoming, she impulsively blurted out, “I like it,” and Coral was born. Her eyes shifted to Jewel, misting slightly with tears. She blinked rapidly to prevent turning into a watering pot again in front of them all. “Thank you for taking me in.”
Chapter Three
Mister Gabe drove her to the Bentley Inn, and along with Amy and Opal, they packed her things and moved her to the saloon that afternoon. The girls talked non-stop as they helped her hang up her dresses and put away her things. When they were done, it was late in the afternoon and they left to get ready for the evening. At a loss, Coral sat on her bed and looked around her new room. More tasteful than she expected, the walls were a soft butter yellow and the matching coverlet was done up in white eyelet and daisies embroidered around the edges.
Dreading the upcoming night, her first as a gem, she jumped at the knock on her door. “It’s Jewel,” came the soft cultured tones, “may I come in?”
“Please,” she answered, standing as her new employer entered with a pile of dresses draped over her arm.
“The girls donated some of their things, which should do until we can get you some of your own.” She set them all on her bed and shook out the one on top. A bronze and peach off the shoulder gown with thin satin straps to hold up the low sweetheart neckline. It was pretty, yet much more daring than anything she’d ever worn. “You’re taller than most of us,” Jewel went on as she held it up in front of her, “so they might be a little short. With some hose and a pair of lace up ankle boots, I think you can pull it off.”
Coral held out her hand and touched the ruffled stand up trim at the bodice. Despite the weight she’d lost on the long ocean voyage, she still had curves across her hips and thighs, and especially up top. The material would conceal some of the upper mounds of her breasts, although not all, but she supposed it came with the job and was something she’d have to get used to.
“The color suits you,” Jewel said softly. “There is also an emerald green and one in sapphire blue that will look beautiful on you.”
“They are all very pretty, thank you.”
She didn’t say more, her stomach in knots as it climbed up into the back of her throat nearly choking her.
“It’s going to be all right, honey. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Mingle with the customers, serve them their whiskey, dance if you feel comfortable enough. And if someone gets fresh or too insistent, you find Gabe or Charlie, our piano player, right away.”
Nodding her understanding, she picked up the dress and held it against her, sizing it up.
“And, this should make your position as a first floor gem perfectly clear.” Hooking a lacy pink petticoat with her finger, Jewel held it out to Coral. “It’s long enough that the flounce should peek out the bottom of your dress, and remove all doubt about your role with us.”
Another knock on the door saw Amy and Opal peeping in. One dressed in scarlet satin and black lace, the other in vivid purple. Both had matching plumes in their hair. “We’re here to get you dressed and to help with your hair,” Opal announced.
“And I’m a fair hand with cosmetics,” Amy added as she held a satchel aloft.
“Oh, I’ve never worn anything except a little powder to keep the shine off my nose.”
Amy waved her objections off. “I’ve a light hand. A dab of pink will hide the nerves that have turned your cheeks pale and add a slight tint to your lips. Trust me, when I’m done you won’t even know you’re wearing any.”
“She does have a talent,” Jewel agreed.
They bustled in and once again filled the room with their effusive chatter. Jewel patted her shoulder before she bowed out.
Her new friends didn’t give her a chance to be nervous as they fussed over her. When they were done, they turned her towards the floor mirror that stood on a stand in the corner. She was amazed at the transformation. Her hair was pulled up to her crown and then fell in soft curls past her shoulders. The rouge and lip color gave her face a healthy glow and enhanced the green of her eyes. And, as the madame had said, the gown suited her. This was the woman’s touch she had been missing all these years, something her father had eluded too, but hadn’t been able to give her.
She imagined what he would think if he could see her now, all dressed up to earn her keep as a saloon dancing girl. He’d be horrified, for certain.
“You look gorgeous, Coral. There will be a line for your tables and your dance card will be full.”
“This isn’t a fancy society ball, silly. We don’t have dance cards, we use tickets,” Opal chided with a giggle. “Oh, look what I found to go with your gown.” She flipped open a bronze satin fan. “If anyone gets fresh,” she snapped it shut, “rap ‘em on the knuckles, then laugh it off.” She mimicked the action as she tossed her head and let out a burst of soft, tinkling laughter, in a perfect imitation of the debutantes back home.
“Hm,” Amy grunted, “as if you ever did anything so subtle. Where did you hear such a thing?”
“I read,” Opal said, clearly offended.
Coral grinned and accepted the fan. “That is exactly what they do in the finest ballrooms in New York City, honey. You’ve got it right.”
> Opal shot her friend such a smug look, Coral wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she’d also stuck out her tongue and said, “so there.”
Just then, piano music wafted down the hall.
“That’s our cue,” Amy said. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Coral nodded as she lifted her skirt with trembling hands and started for the door. “I’ll try to remember I’m wearing my pink armor.”
* * *
More nervous than she’d ever been, she began the evening observing the other girls interacting with the customers. Flirty and fun, they all made the gentlemen feel welcome. As the liquor flowed, the laughter came easy, and soon some of the men accompanied a few gems upstairs. With encouragement from Amy who was busy pouring drinks behind the bar, she delivered five filled to the brim shot glasses of whiskey to one of the poker tables. Although her hands shook terribly, she managed not to spill it all over. It became easier after that, and she learned quickly if she smiled and bent low, she’d get a nice little tip when they paid for their drinks.
An older gentleman with silver at his temples, who was seated alone in a corner watching all the comings and goings, struck up a conversation with her, his Boston accent unmistakable. He introduced himself as Spencer, and after conversing for a few minutes as she served him his blackstrap, which was a disgusting concoction of gin and molasses, he asked her if she knew how to waltz. Finding him friendly, harmless, and seeming lonely more than anything, she agreed.
With a request to Charlie at the piano as they passed, they twirled in wide circles around the polished wooden floor. He was skilled, as much as she was, having taken lessons from the age of twelve until her debut at eighteen. Many of the other dancers, who either stomped or scuffled around the floor, backed off and watched as Coral’s skirts billowed in the turns. For a moment, she was able to forget where she was and enjoyed the dance, but soon their fifteen-minute turn had ended. He bowed to her and handed her a dollar ticket. Wide-eyed, Coral curled her fingers around it.
“Lead him back to the bar and offer him a drink,” a girl she hadn’t met yet whispered in her ear. “You get a twenty percent commission on the drinks you sell as well.”
She did as she was urged and Spencer tipped her another fifty cents with the condition that she serve him another drink at his table. When she arrived with it a few moments later, he kissed her hand, pressing a half dollar gold piece into it, thanked her and settled in to watch again.
As she moved away, she did some quick calculations in her head and realized she’d made over two dollars for twenty minutes of work. Before she made it back to the bar, another man offered her a dance ticket. It went on like that, with constant partners for two hours before she took a short break to rest her feet. While seated on a stool at the bar, she sorted through her tickets and calculated her profit to be close to fifteen dollars if the night ended as busy at it started.
She had no idea she could earn that much from smiling, being friendly, and dancing. At this rate, her stay in Culpepper Cove might not be as long as she’d anticipated.
“Be a dear, Coral,” Amy asked, “and deliver these beers to the table in the corner for Rose. She’s occupied.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied with a grin, her mood considerably lighter than before she started the shift.
As she steadied the three beer mugs on her tray, she carefully picked her way through the crowded room, shifting past tables and people milling around, often not watching for a saloon girl with a loaded tray. She certainly didn’t have the skill of the other girls who sashayed through the throng of boisterous patrons, grinning and laughing while holding a loaded tray aloft, one handed. In time, she told herself.
As she turned sideways to squeeze between two occupied chairs, she felt a hand on her bottom and hard fingers give her a pinch. Unused to such treatment, she squealed and spun around to confront the culprit. As she did, her tray tilted and the mugs slid. She tried desperately to recover and almost had the balance test won, when someone bumped into her from behind and the entire thing toppled to the floor with a crash.
Silence reigned for a moment, even Charlie at the piano paused to look up and see what had caused the commotion. All eyes were glued on Coral, who never liked to be the center of attention. Her face flamed as hot as a coal stove fire on a January day.
“Dadburnit, you soaked me clear through! And you owe me a beer.”
“Me too. I’d done paid for that one.”
“That makes three.”
A deep voice with rolling r’s that she wasn’t soon to forget asked, “Are you all right? You didn’t get cut on the glass, did you?”
She looked up into the Nordic blue eyes of Bo Magnusson. Dumbstruck with embarrassment for him to see her making a fool of herself, she turned to leave without answering. When she did, she ran smack into Mister Gabe.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked, as his hands came up to steady her.
“I spilled, is all. I’ll pay for their drinks.”
“Are you sure? Jewel thought she saw some unwelcomed touching—”
“What does that mean?” Bo demanded from behind her. “Did someone have the gall to grope her?” His eyes scanned the men at the nearest tables. All sized him up and looked immediately away.
“I’m fine, really. Only a bit nervous and clumsy. I’ll get a broom and more drinks.”
“We’ll get this cleaned up, Coral. Why don’t you finish your break? Rose is back now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without glancing at Bo who hadn’t move from close behind her, she scurried away, out of the common area to a dimly lit hallway where the air was cooler. Frazzled, she leaned heavily against the wall. She’d have to develop a thicker skin if she were going to work in this vocation.
“Give me his name or tell me what he looks like, raring, and he won’t bother you again.”
Her head popped up and she found Bo directly in front of her. She hadn’t heard him follow, walking much softer than a big man ever should. He was studying her face with his enigmatic gaze, his concern and anger on her behalf evident.
“I don’t think it’s possible for you to challenge every man who might have a notion to pinch a saloon girl’s behind. Though I thank you for the offer.”
“Other saloon girls’ behinds are not my concern, Coral. Just yours.” He moved closer and she blinked up at him, unsure why that would be, this being only their second meeting. He surprised her further when with gentle hands, he smoothed back the hairs that had come loose and were floating around her face. “I don’t like you working here.”
She stiffened. “It’s honest work, and from what I’ve seen so far, decent money.”
“You’re a lady, sweetheart. That’s obvious to anyone one who’s got eyes. You belong in a drawing room serving tea, not slinging drinks for a bunch of rough prospectors.”
“Even ladies need to eat and have a roof over their heads, Mr. Magnusson.”
“It’s Bo. And being a saloon girl is not what you are cut out for. I know about Nathan Blackstone and your misfortune, coming all this way expecting to be a bride.
“You’ve asked after me?”
He smiled softly. “It’s a small town and a beautiful new arrival, down on her luck, is the talk of it.”
Heat crept into her cheeks at his compliment.
“It is such a shame, because when I met you that first day, fresh off the stage, that was exactly how I saw you. Wife to some lucky man, someone who would take care of you and keep you safe, and well away from the rough sort who would pinch your behind or pay for your time,” he murmured. As he did so, he moved in even closer, his hand sliding down her cheek to her chin, and angling it up. “Someone like me.”
“But you barely know me.”
“Which is something I’m hoping to change.”
She could feel the heat of his long frame against her front and as she gazed into his compelling blue eyes, feeling the pace of her heart increase at his nearnes
s, she wished for that too. Unable to look away, she saw him dip his head, his intent clear.
Against her parted lips, his were warm and inviting. And his tongue that slipped out and trailed along the lower curve of her mouth was too much to resist. She arched her head back and opened for him. He needed no other invitation as he tilted his head slightly and sealed his lips over her own, delving and stroking inside her. Never had she been kissed by someone she found so attractive, who dwarfed her above average frame with his towering one, who engulfed her with big brawny arms that she knew could hold her tight, lift and carry her effortlessly, and protect her from all the evils in the world. She melted against him, forgetting herself, and who she now was.
At her ready acceptance, he deepened the kiss, pulling her against his chest and up on her toes as he consumed her lips, his hands stroking over her back, one gliding up high to her shoulders, the other dipping low and cupping her round bottom.
A giggle in the hallway beside them had reality crashing back in on her. Bo raised his head and they both turned to see Nettie standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a pretty brown-eyed brunette standing next to her with a grin on her face. Obviously, the younger woman, not the cook with her brows arched in reproach, was the source of the amused laughter.
“You were right, Emerald. There were noises coming from where they shouldn’t.” Nettie’s eyes shot to Coral. “You’re new here, Miss Coral. You’ll learn that men folk aren’t allowed in the first floor private rooms.” She held up an ominous looking wooden spoon. “Violators get a taste of what I can dish out quite handily. You’ll have to take him upstairs if you mean to continue what you’ve started.”
Bo turned back to her, all passion erased from his face and replaced with a look of confusion. “I thought you were a dancing girl.” He then lowered a big hand to her skirt and rucked it up, exposing her petticoats.
Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 4
