Kase walked up to the bar, rested his booted foot on the brass rail, and leaned forward.
“Whiskey, Paddie.”
The diminutive bartender glanced at the clock on the wall near the end of the bar, then back at Kase.
“You sure, Marshal?”
“Why would I be asking if I wasn’t sure?”
Paddie swiped at an invisible mark on the well-oiled surface of the bar. “It’s only eleven-thirty.”
“I can tell time.”
The man shrugged and turned away without further argument. Kase avoided looking at himself in the long mirror behind the bar as he drew a dime out of his pocket and slapped it down.
Paddie set the drink before him, and Kase stared down into the rich amber liquid for a moment. Damn, if it didn’t remind him of the color of the girl’s eyes. He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the glass and lifted it to his lips.
Here’s to you, Rose. Safe journey.
The whiskey was warm and smooth. It went down fast and easy.
He knew the bartender was watching him out of the corner of his eye and so Kase hid a smile. He had had his share of drinks here, but none at eleven-thirty in the morning, and never when he had the shining tin badge pinned on his chest. No wonder Paddie was ill at ease.
“Thanks,” Kase nodded in the squat Irishman’s direction. “One should do it.”
He headed toward the door and wished he could dispatch Rose Audi from his mind as easily as he had the shot of whiskey.
* * *
The train tracks stretched away from the depot in both directions until they disappeared over the horizon. Rosa stared down at the ticket in her hand without really seeing it. She felt nothing. Kase Storm had insisted he purchase the ticket for her after she informed him, much to her humiliation, that she hadn’t enough money left to buy one for herself. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench and swung her feet to and fro, the toes of her shoes scraping the rough wood of the platform.
You’ll be back, Rosa.
Why was it she could not stop reminding herself of Guido’s taunting prediction? She could just imagine her brother’s face when she arrived back in Crotte. That was the reason she’d told the marshal she wanted to go west to San Francisco. Even in Corio Rosa had heard of the large settlement of Italians in San Francisco. It was second only to the one in New York. She might be able to find work in the city and make her way without having to return to Italy at all.
The thought did little to cheer her. Rosa tried to imagine herself moving through the bustling streets of San Francisco, a city she could not even picture. She shuddered and recalled how happy she had been that Giovanni had chosen to leave the crowded, dingy city of New York behind and move west. She remembered the tall, dark buildings and narrow streets that massed together on the shore of the Atlantic. It was impossible to think of herself making her way in any American city; she was a country girl, a simple girl. A farmer’s daughter. In San Francisco she would be lost in the mass of humanity, a faceless specter moving through mobs of strangers.
If the marshal had had his way, she would be going back to Italy. She lied to him when he asked if she knew anyone in San Francisco, but there was no way she was going home before she had at least tried her luck here in America.
She brushed at a bothersome fly and thought about the desolate building Giovanni had rented. The secret of his dreams had died with him. She would never know why he had chosen this dusty little town for their home. Had he made any friends here? Perhaps the boisterous Mrs. Flossie had befriended him. Maybe he had envisioned fertile fields that stretched as far as the eye could see across the now barren land. Why here, Giovanni? What did you see in this place?
Rosa knew she would never know the answer if she got on the train and left town as Marshal Kase Storm had so imperiously ordered her to do.
Who was he to decide the course of her life for her? The more she thought of him the angrier she became until finally she stood and stomped over to the barred ticket window.
“Yes, Mrs. Audi?” the man asked.
She looked in at the thin, nondescript man with glasses perched on the end of his nose and oiled-down brown hair and shoved the ticket toward him. “I want to change.”
“Yes, ma’am. Where to now?” His brows knit in question.
“Nowhere.”
“Ma’am?”
“I am not going.”
“You’re not? Not going?”
“No. I’m stay here.” She felt vastly relieved just saying the words. It was not like her to hesitate. As she grew stronger in purpose and courage, Rosa drew herself up a little taller. “I want the money.”
“But, Marshal Storm—”
“I am not going.” She enunciated each word so that he would not mistake her meaning.
She could tell he was uncertain, so she stood silently staring up at him until the man moved to take the ticket she thrust toward him and opened the cash drawer below the window. He pushed a handful of bills and change across the counter. Rosa scooped them into her hand and quickly shoved them into her skirt pocket, afraid the man might change his mind and want it all back.
“I will leave the trunk here again, if is all right?”
He nodded. “Of course, ma’am, for as long as you like, but—”
“I will come for it when I have place to stay.” She smiled at John Tuttle, hoping to ease some of the concern from his face. Was the man afraid of the marshal? Was that why he had been so hesitant to give her back the money?
“If you change your mind, ma’am, you hurry back and you can still make the train.”
She shook her head. “I am certain. I stay here.”
With that, Rosa stooped to lift her valise off the platform and, for the second time in two days, turned toward the town of Busted Heel. This time her shoulders were set with purpose.
* * *
“Looks like you got trouble.”
Kase looked up at the sound of Zach Elliot’s voice. “What?”
“I said, looks like—”
“I heard what you said,” Kase snapped irritably. He was in no mood to be sociable. It had been easier to spend his time brooding before Zach came to town. He wished the old man would find something to do and leave him alone. “What kind of trouble?”
“Eye-talian. It’s comin’ this way.”
Kase slammed the palms of his hands on the desk and stood up. He opened the door just as Rose was about to knock, watched her lower her hand and clear her throat. He knew one thing for certain; right now she was definitely a woman with a bee in her oversized bonnet.
“Why aren’t you on the train?” he demanded.
“I am not going.”
“What do you mean, you’re not going?”
She did not look as if she was going to budge. “I am stay here. I will find work.”
“Stay where? What work?”
Zach interrupted the exchange. “Why don’t you two step inside and let me go out so you can settle this?”
Rose swept past Kase who continued to glare at her. She dropped her valise on the floor where it fell with a thud that echoed loudly in the stillness. Zach sauntered out, and Kase closed the door behind him without a sound. He extracted the gold watch from the depths of his pocket and quickly snapped it open, checked the time, then closed it. As he worked the timepiece back down into his denims, he met Rose’s eyes again.
“You’re going to miss the train if you aren’t back there in ten minutes.”
“I think you did not hear me. I am not going. I come here to say to you I will pay the money you give me for the ticket, but I am stay here. This is where Giovanni want me to live.”
“Going to. It’s going to stay here. But you’re not. Giovanni isn’t here anymore.”
“But I am here.”
Kase sighed. He had to make her understand that this was no place for a decent woman to live alone. It was hard, desperately lonely, and potentially dangerous for someone so vulnerable. Someone so young
. Someone with eyes like melted honey. Someone so—
Kase started and shook himself out of the mesmerized stupor he was falling into. With his thumbs looped into his gun belt he said, “You have to leave.”
“Why? You own the town?” She poked at his badge. What privileges was he entitled to as marshal? Could he make her leave?
“No.” Irritated, he shook his head. “I don’t own the town. But I do know what’s good for a woman like you, and Busted Heel isn’t it.”
“You say to me, Marshal, what kind of woman I am?”
“What?”
She struggled to find the right words. “Tell me, what kind of a woman I am?”
He stepped closer. “Innocent. Alone. In need of protection. In need of a home and a means of support... a job,” he explained further.
Rosa smiled, triumphant. “Your friend, Signora Flossie, she says I can have a job. I go to her next and say I take it.”
“Flossie?”
She stepped back, amazed at the vehemence in his tone.
“Anyone but Flossie.”
“But she is your friend ...”
“She is. But she runs a whorehouse. And as far as I can tell, you aren’t any whore.”
“I do not understand.”
Kase turned away, angry with himself for the sudden outburst. She had done little to deserve it, except irritate him. He refused to let his temper take over all reason. He tried cold detachment instead. “Of course you don’t.”
Silence lengthened between them. Finally she spoke again. “What is it?”
“I’m upset, that’s what.”
“No, I mean ‘whore.’ What is it?”
He groaned. He realized it was the kind of question his mother was continually asking Caleb. Kase felt his face flush with color as he met her unfaltering gaze. What in the hell was she doing to him? He was as skittish as a wild colt caught in a box canyon.
“A whore...” Kase cleared his throat and started over. “A whore is a woman who... who... gets paid for sharing her ... pleasures.”
“Ahh.” She nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “Prostituta.” With three brothers in the house, she had heard that word before. “Signora Flossie, too?” Her tone was incredulous.
Kase pulled at the collar of his shirt and wondered exactly when it had become too tight. “No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore. She just takes care of the girls who work for her. And”—he narrowed his eyes as he stared down at her—” you are not going to join them.”
Rosa stuck out her chin. “If I want to, I will. But I do not want to, so I will not. But not because you say so,” she added hastily.
“Of course not,” Kase mumbled under his breath.
“I want Giovanni’s store.”
“What store? That empty building with a few rotten potatoes? How long do you think you can live on nothing? Besides, the place wasn’t even his; he rented it.” Those eyes, he thought, are going to do me in. Kase turned away from her and, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, began sorting through the mail and Wanted posters on the table.
“Whose is?”
“Whose is what?” He purposely baited her by pretending not to understand. It wasn’t safe to turn around yet, for there was something about the flashing anger behind the topaz eyes that intrigued him. They reminded him of an electrical storm over the prairie. He wanted to watch the lightning flare a while longer, but refused to allow himself the pleasure.
“Whose is the building? Who owns it?” she shouted. Her limited patience was gone.
“Paddie.”
Rosa folded her arms beneath her breasts, unwilling to be put off. Trying to calm herself, she asked in a more moderate tone, “Where is this Paddie?”
“Across the street. He owns the saloon, too.”
“Ah. Taverna.”
She scooped up the valise and started toward the door. Without a sound and with uncannily graceful speed, Kase got there before her and leaned against it, arms crossed, lips set in a firm line.
“Mi scusi.” Her request was polite but determined.
Kase shook his head in disbelief. The fool wasn’t kidding. She intended to stay in Busted Heel. He knew a sudden urge to lift, her up in his arms the way he had yesterday, carry her back to the depot, and shove her onto the train. The trouble was, yesterday she was unconscious. Today he was afraid to try it.
A shrill whistle sounded in the distance. He did not have to look at his watch to know that it was too late for him to take any action at all. Rose Audi smiled up all too smugly at him when he sighed in resignation.
He opened the door and watched her sweep past, head high, full skirt trailing across the dusty sidewalk, the wide, floppy hat giving her the appearance of a walking mushroom.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he called out as the mushroom headed across the street toward the saloon.
Rosa did not need to turn around to see Kase Storm lounging against the door frame with his arms casually folded across his chest or the icy frigidity in his sky-blue eyes. She knew exactly what he was doing, for she could feel his gaze searing its way through her clothing. So she chose to think about her options instead. By concentrating on the glaring facts of harsh reality, Rosa was able to keep her mind off the man who watched her cross the street.
The facts were simple, the challenge great. She would use the ticket money to help herself get established. Before nightfall she must find a place to live, employment, and the hope of making enough money to pay Marshal Kase Storm back every last lira she owed him. Dollar, she reminded herself. Dollar.
With her newfound confidence undiminished, Rosa pushed open the doors of the Ruffled Garter Saloon and stepped just inside the large, nearly empty room. A tall, lanky man in a ruby satin vest and ruffle-fronted white shirt looked up from a deck of cards long enough to nod and smile at her from beneath a waxed handlebar mustache. He was seated across from the grizzled, strangely dressed man with the white hair and scarred face who had been in the marshal’s office. The old man made no move. He just stared at her with his one good eye. There was no one else in the room except a short older man working behind the bar.
As she walked inside, determination in every step, the stout bartender hurried around the end of the long bar and met her before she could get more than a few feet inside the door. His face was shadowed with worry, his brows drooped, matching the downturned corners of his mouth.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
“Sì. Yes. I am Giovanni Audi’s wife. I come to learn about his store.”
The man did not ask her to step in farther or to sit down. Neither did he ask if she cared for any refreshment. Rosa thought it rude that he should not, but kept her thoughts to herself. She needed his help.
“His rent was all paid up, Mrs. Audi. Right up until he... well, till he died. Don’t you be worrying none about that.” So saying, Paddle O’Hallohan looked as if he expected her to leave.
Rosa took a deep breath. The man with the cards stopped pretending to shuffle them and leaned back, avidly watching their exchange.
“I want to pay for the store.”
“Rent, you mean?”
“Yes,” she said. “Rent. I like to rent Giovanni’s store. How much is?”
Obviously flabbergasted by her request, Paddie sputtered. “Your husband paid five dollars a month.”
“Five?” She paused and repeated the number to be certain she understood him correctly.
“Well, I could let you have it for four-fifty.”
Rosa was silent for a moment, blinking once as she recalculated and stared. “Four-fifty?”
Paddie shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “All right, four dollars a month. But that’s as low as I can go.”
Quattro. “Bene. I pay now.”
Rosa set down her valise and reached into her pocket, withdrawing the crumpled wad of bills the ticket agent had given her. She counted out four dollars and paid Paddie O’Hallohan the rent on the building next door.
“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Audi. Now that you have it, what are you planning to do with the place?”
She shrugged. “A store.”
“Busted Heel’s got one store already. Al-Ray’s. Why, Alice and Ray Wilkie have been here since the railroad came through and the town was laid out. It won’t be easy to cut into their trade.” He considered her for a moment. “Marshal Storm know you’re staying on?”
She smiled. And lied. “But of course, Mr. Paddie. He is—how do you say it?—delighted.” She heard the man with the eye patch begin to cough.
Paddie looked none too sure about her statement, but nodded and smiled in return. “I’ll get you the key. Been leaving the place unlocked, seeing as how there’s nothing in there. You’ll be wanting to lock up, though.” He spoke to her over his shoulder as he moved away. “I’m right here if you need anything.”
Within moments Rosa was walking down the sidewalk again with her valise in one hand and the key to Giovanni’s store tucked safely in her pocket with the rest of her borrowed funds. Her journey took her only a few steps before she stopped on the other side of the saloon at Flossie Gibbs’s Hospitality Parlor and Retreat. After straightening her hat, Rosa rapped on the door and waited for someone to answer her knock. She did not wait long.
The door opened a mere crack, and a hushed voice informed her, “We’re not open yet.”
“Mi scusi,” Rosa began. “I like to see Signora Flossie.” The door opened wider and a tall, lanky girl Rosa guessed could be no older than seventeen peered around it. Fine yellow hair stood out all around her head like scattered straw. The remnants of sleep puffed her eyelids.
“Flossie?” the blonde repeated.
“Sì. Tell the signora that Rosa Audi, who she met earlier this day, comes to see her.”
The girl closed the door and left Rosa staring at the frosted-glass pane inches from her nose. Rosa began to tap her foot impatiently. Time was fleeting. There was much to do before nightfall.
Just as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, Rosa saw behind the frosted glass the vibrant shade of magenta Flossie had been wearing earlier. She took a deep breath of the warm, dry air, and waited as the door opened.
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