by Nerys Leigh
“I guessed that,” she said as they turned from the bottles.
“You’re responsible for keeping a record of everything you sell. That goes in this book.” He tapped an open ledger behind the bar. “If you don’t write it down, you don’t get your cut.”
“I understand.” It was the last thing she’d be likely to forget.
“And if you put down more than you actually sell, I’ll know about it.” Somehow, he managed to make it sound like a warning without altering his tone or expression at all.
“You won’t have anything to worry about there.” If she was going to steal from him, which she wasn’t, she’d be far more subtle than inflating the records.
He nodded, whether or not because he believed her, she didn’t know. “Frank comes in to cook from eleven ’til two and then four until eight. What he makes changes every day, depending on what we have in, so he’ll give you a menu when he gets here. The food’s cheap and basic, but it’s good. It’s mostly to get the customers to order drinks anyway. That’s where the money is. There’s no rule that men have to order a drink with their meal, but it’s understood that they will. It’s your job to persuade them to order more than one.”
“Persuasion is my speciality.”
His gaze flicked down again. “I don’t doubt that. You have any trouble, you give Solomon over there a nod and he’ll deal with it for you.”
She looked over at the door where the man she’d noticed the previous day stood. At least, she assumed he was a man. He could have been a bear in a suit. Solomon was a very large, very solid individual with a bushy black beard and the air of a brick wall. At her attention, he nodded at her and smiled. Jo didn’t know whether to feel safe or terrified.
“He looks like he could deal with anything.”
“That’s why I hired him.”
Her eyes went beyond Solomon to a small table in the far corner where a man sat, his hat pulled down over his face. The corner was far away from the windows and swathed in gloom, but there was something about the man that seemed familiar. Something about his posture and his shape.
And then he tilted his head back a little and Jo caught a flash of red hair.
Chapter 18
Jo had been in the saloon for an hour before Zach came up to the bar.
By her calculations, she’d already amassed around a dollar in her cut from the drinks sales, although she expected that rate of earning wouldn’t last. The men were probably trying their luck at persuading her to come out from behind the bar and spend her time being more available. She worked that for all it was worth, smiling, laughing at their jokes, giving them small touches on their arms and hands. She knew how to do this.
But through it all, she kept darting looks at Zach at his table in the corner. He had a book open in front of him, but she could see he wasn’t going to be finishing it anytime soon, the way he kept his eyes on her. She’d only seen him turn the page once.
When he finally got up and walked over to her, she was fit to burst.
“What are you doing here?!” she hissed as soon as he reached her.
He placed his empty glass on the bar. “Having a drink.”
“You’ve had that glass for over an hour.”
“I’m a very slow drinker. I’ll have a refill, please.”
She looked at the glass. “Of what?”
“Water.”
Of course.
“Zach, why are you here? And don’t tell me it’s to have a drink of water. You hate this place.”
“I’m expanding my horizons.”
She frowned at him. “You don’t have to follow me around.”
“I know.”
“So you can go home.”
“I’ll do that.”
She sighed in relief. “Good. That’s...”
“When I’m done soaking up the ambience of this fine establishment.”
He was enough to make her scream. “What about your shift at the hotel?”
“Art is covering for me. I can be here all day.” He used a fingertip to slide the glass closer to her. “So I’ll have another glass of water, please.”
She pressed her lips together, then shrugged. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”
She filled the glass from the tap at the sink behind the bar and placed it in front of him. “But at some point you’re going to have to pay for something or they’ll throw you out.”
“The bartender before you charged me ten cents.”
“For water?” She checked the price list and there it was - WATER 10¢. Now she felt even worse. “Please, Zach...”
He placed a dime onto the bar, touched the brim of his hat, and took his water back to the table in the corner. Huffing out a breath, she took a cloth from behind the bar and scrubbed at its already pristine surface hard enough to rub off the varnish.
She tried to ignore Zach over the next six hours, she really did, but her eyes kept straying in his direction. Every couple of hours, he’d come to refill his glass, but most of the time he just watched her, particularly when she was serving customers. Many of the men she served got frisky. It was what she was counting on and she knew how to play to it, but Zach would tense up each time it happened. At one point, when a man reached across the bar towards her, she saw Zach begin to rise from his seat. She shot him a quick shake of her head and, to her relief, he sat back down. But she could tell he wasn’t happy.
But the worst times of all were when the women spoke to him. Because even though she knew they were just doing their jobs, and she also knew she was done with men and so it didn’t matter anyway, she had the overwhelming urge every time one approached his table to leap over the bar, rush across the room, and shove her away from him. And that annoyed her most of all, because she was done with men.
When her replacement arrived, Rufus came to talk to her. “You did well. Think you put up sales by a good ten or fifteen percent. Every man in here wants your attention.”
“That’s the idea,” she said. “And I can do better than fifteen percent. I’ll be better on Monday.”
“You sure you don’t want to change your mind about offering additional services? You’d make a fortune.”
“No, thank you. Bartending is good enough.”
He shrugged. “Please yourself. But if you decide the extra money would be useful, just say the word.” He glanced at Zach’s table in the corner of the room. “About your friend...”
“He’s not doing any harm,” she said quickly. “And he bought drinks.”
“Fair enough. But if he interferes with any of the customers or does anything more than sit there, something will need to be done.”
His tone didn’t change and there was nothing in the way he said the words that indicated any threat, but Jo heard it nevertheless.
“He won’t, I promise.”
“Good. I’ll see you Monday.”
She looked over at Zach as Rufus walked away. He was going to get himself into trouble over her, and she had no idea how to stop him.
She’d left the saloon and walked ten feet along the street before Zach caught up with her.
“Enjoy your first experience of the evils of drink and women in a saloon?” she said as he reached her side.
“Who says that was the first time I’ve been in there?” He gave her a grin that wouldn’t have been out of place on a naughty six-year-old.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Are you telling me that God-fearing Zach Parsons has sampled the sinful pleasures of the flesh?”
“We’re all sinners. I’ll tell you about the days when I used to go there, if you really want to know. I’m not hiding anything.”
She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know. “I don’t need to hear your confession.”
“Good, because I don’t need to confess. God has forgiven everything I’ve done wrong. I just meant that if there’s anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
She didn’t answer for a few paces. “Do you think I’m a sinner?”
/> “Yes.”
She stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open.
He looked back at her and smiled. “But like I said, we all are. Nothing special about you. Not in the sin department, anyway.”
There were times when she didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or throw herself into his arms.
Except she didn’t want to throw herself into his arms. In the slightest. Throwing into arms was for women who weren’t done with men.
“Is that why you were in there today?” she said, resuming walking. “To make sure I wasn’t doing anything more sinful than serving drinks?”
“I don’t recall there being anything in the Bible about serving drinks being a sin. But no, that wasn’t why I was there.”
She grasped his arm, forcing him to stop and face her. “Then why? Why would you possibly want to sit there for seven hours doing nothing?”
His gaze held hers. “To make sure you were safe.”
Oh.
For a few moments, with her heart melting just a little bit, she didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful or frustrated, or all three. She’d never felt so out of control as she did around Zach. And even worse, she liked it.
“Well... thank you.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
He fell into step beside her as she started walking again.
“But you don’t have to do that,” she said. “I had Solomon there. Rufus said he’d intervene if I needed help. But I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“I know, but please don’t do it again. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Hurt?”
She didn’t want to scare him, or make him any more scared for her, but maybe he needed a dose of reality. “Rufus mentioned you.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, nothing really. But I got a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
She sighed. “I’ve known men like him, the type who don’t need to say things outright, but you know what they’re implying.”
They reached the hotel and circled around to the back entrance.
Zach stared at the ground in front of them. “That may not have been entirely to do with you.”
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“As I said, I’ve been in there before, although not for a couple of years. But when I did go there, I did some gambling.”
She came to a halt at the back door. “You were a gambler?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Card games. I was good at it, which made me unpopular with the other patrons. On occasion I would get accused of cheating, which I never did, by the way. But Rufus didn’t like it because it stirred up trouble. He’s okay with me going in there, so long as I don’t try to get into a game. But I don’t do that anymore.”
The more she learned about him, the less she seemed to know. “Doesn’t the Bible say you mustn’t gamble?”
He opened the door and held it for her. “It actually doesn’t mention it.”
One of these days she’d have to try reading the thing. “So why did you stop?”
“I looked around me one day, at what was going on in the saloon, and I suddenly realised it wasn’t a place I wanted to support in any way.”
She came to a halt in the hallway and looked up at him. “Until today.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “I don’t think my forty cents is going to make much difference one way or the other.”
She pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out four dimes. Taking his hand, she placed them into his palm and wrapped his fingers around them. “Here. I don’t want you compromising your scruples because of me. And I don’t want you to come into the saloon on Monday, or any other day. I can look after myself, and Solomon will be there.”
He opened his mouth to speak.
“And before you say anything, if it will make you feel better, you can walk me there and back. Okay?”
He closed his mouth and studied her before nodding. “Okay.”
“And I’m all safe and sound here now, so you can go home.”
“Actually, I thought I’d stick around here and go see what Mrs. S has made for supper before I take over from Art.” He stuck out his elbow. “Would you care to join me?”
He was too charming. And too handsome. And she should spend as little time as possible with him.
But she was hungry.
She slipped her arm through his. “Do you think she’ll have enchiladas?”
He smiled. “We can hope.”
Chapter 19
Unusually for Jo, she woke before nine the following morning.
She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when she remembered it was Sunday. She could have pleaded fatigue and stayed in bed, but she wanted to go to church. This was the third Sunday she and her fellow mail order brides would be having Sunday lunch together, and she didn’t want to miss it. She enjoyed being with her friends, more so than she ever thought she would before she had true friends.
Also, Zach would be at church.
She walked into the kitchen, clean and dressed, by nine-thirty.
Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez, Javier, and Ana were sitting at the table. Zach was with them. It was exasperating how happy that made her.
“Good morning,” he said, standing and pulling out the chair next to his.
When she’d sat, he went to fetch a plate from the range.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I gave you a bit of everything.” He placed the plate in front of her and retook his seat.
“Thank you.”
She was aware of the small smile on Mrs. Sanchez’s lips but chose to ignore it.
She picked up the knife and fork then stopped, suddenly aware of everyone watching her, silently waiting. Was she supposed to be doing something? Then she remembered why she was up this early, and where they were going.
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and silently counted off ten seconds, which seemed like a good length of time for saying a blessing. When she opened her eyes again, the others resumed their meals.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” She loaded some of the scrambled egg onto her fork. “I guess I’m tired.” She didn’t mention that she’d usually still be asleep, no matter how tired or not tired she was.
Zach gave her a knowing smile. He knew. “We have plenty of time.”
He was dressed in black trousers and the blue shirt matching his eyes that he’d worn before, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top three buttons unfastened. The whole effect was highly distracting.
“I’m glad you’re late,” Javier said. “Makes me look early.” It appeared he’d barely started on his food.
“No, you were still late,” Ana said.
He elbowed her arm and she elbowed him back, but they were both smiling.
Jo couldn’t remember ever eating as well as she had for the past five days, even the time she’d managed to finagle her way into the sprawling home of a wealthy family on Long Island for two weeks, pretending to be an heiress who was waiting for money to arrive from England after her wayward brother had gambled away what they’d had. Her accent had been atrocious, but the family were none the wiser.
“These eggs are delicious,” she said. They had tiny red bits mixed in with them.
“That’s the chillies,” Mrs. Sanchez replied. “Gives them an extra kick.”
“Remember the time Javi tried to eat a whole chilli?” Ana said.
Javier huffed a sigh. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
Zach grinned. “I think your face turned the exact shade of the chilli.”
“You’re the one who dared me to do it.”
“I didn’t think you actually would!”
“He was crying,” Ana said to Jo, between giggles. “Actually crying!”
“My eyes were watering,” Javier said. “There’s a d
ifference.”
Ana leaned towards Jo and whispered loudly, “He was crying.”
Javier rolled his eyes.
“He eats onions like they’re apples,” Ana went on. “I keep telling him, he’ll never get a girl to kiss him if his breath always smells like onions.”
“Wasn’t a problem for me,” Mr. Sanchez said, winking at his wife.
“Fortunately,” Mrs. Sanchez said with a smile, “I like onions.”
Javier smiled triumphantly. “See? I just have to find the right girl.”
“One who really loves onions,” Ana said.
Jo enjoyed sharing breakfast with the whole family. On previous days, by the time she got to the kitchen Javier and Ana had left for school and Mr. Sanchez was already working elsewhere in the hotel. Spending time with all of them at once almost felt like having a family of her own. She wasn’t used to it and she found she liked it very much. This was how families were meant to be.
“Thank you for convincing Mr. Vernon to allow me to stay at the hotel,” she said to Zach afterwards, as they walked together to church. “I like being there, with everyone.”
“Everyone likes having you there,” he replied, adding after a few seconds, “including me.”
She looked at the ground in front of them, fighting a smile.
“Will you be having lunch at the hotel?” he said.
“Not today. Amy, Lizzy, Sara and Louisa and I have started a weekly support lunch on Sundays. Well, really it’s so we can have a good chat if we haven’t seen each other during the week. Today we’re going to Louisa’s house. We’ll be her first guests since she moved in.”
“So I guess you’ll have lots to talk about, what with the two weddings this week.” There was a hint of teasing in his tone.
She rolled her eyes. “Women do talk about more than just their men when we get together, you know. It’s not all about you.” She almost choked. Had she just suggested he was her man? “I-I mean, it’s not all about men. Men in general, I mean. We talk about... about... all kinds of things.” Not one of which her flustered brain could think of at that moment.
