by L D Marr
“That could be true, but it still doesn’t explain why I’m here exposing myself to strange men in this questionable establishment,” said Roz. “Another library job or a position as a governess would have been preferable and more in line with my educational background.”
“You keep saying how much you hate this job, but it was the only one that would get us out of town fast enough. Both of our necks would have been in the noose, or in the fire, or drowned, or whatever they were going to do to us. Besides, the governess thing wouldn’t have worked out because I don’t like children. They grab my tail and put their sticky fingers in my fur.”
Buttons shuddered.
“Humph,” said Roz again, this time mentally.
“I know it’s a crappy job, but at least they don’t hunt witches out here. One of us needs to work, and cats can’t earn money. You can do it for me, can’t you? You know I’d do it for you if I could, don’t you,” said Buttons telepathically.
His golden eyes looked up at her with seeming sincerity.
“I guess if you put it that way,” said Roz.
She reached out a hand and ran it down his soft fur.
“Ooh, there’s that cute Buttons!” said Betty on the seat next to Roz.
She stopped teasing her hair for a minute and scratched Buttons behind the ears with her comb. Buttons let out a low rumbling purr.
“You’re incorrigible,” said Roz telepathically.
“Don’t worry about lice, if that’s what bothering you. Cats don’t get them. Our fur is too thick.”
“What I’m worried about is you’re consorting with the enemy,” said Roz with telepathic irritation.
“Now that just shows how little you understand about office politics,” said Buttons.
“What office? What politics? What the heck are you talking about?” said Roz, using a rare swear word in the heat of her agitation.
“Never mind. I can’t explain right now.” Buttons answered in her mind. “Your manager is coming to talk to you.”
“Oh, not again!” Roz answered him silently.
She closed her eyes and tipped back her head. Heels click, click, clicked toward her on the st0ne floor, and skirts rustled against skirts in the tight dressing room.
“What have we here?” demanded a high deceptively sweet voice from close proximity. Roz opened her eyes and turned around to face the dancers’ “house mother,” who was called Madame. She stood inches away from Roz. A short woman, her plump face was not far from Roz’s face, although Roz was sitting down.
“It’s bad enough that your dancing is prissy, you hardly ever smile, and you never socialize with the customers, but now you’re sleeping on the job when you should be applying your makeup!” said Madame to Roz in a voice losing its sweetness.
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes for a minute,” said Roz. “There’s so much power in this corner that they get irritated. And my contract said in writing that prostitution was not required at this job.”
“That’s the way to answer her!” Buttons encouraged Roz telepathically.
“I don’t care what your contract said. Most gals can’t read, so you’re not expected to know that. And I’ll complain to the saloon owner about you if you don’t shape up,” said Madame.
She grabbed a makeup brush off the counter and began applying a thick layer of blush to Roz’s cheeks with rough strokes. Roz sat still and didn’t say anything to Madame.
But she answered Buttons mentally. “That’s the way to answer her if I want to be out of a job!”
“Don’t worry. You’re not going to lose your job,” said Buttons in her mind.
“And how do you know that?” Roz asked him.
“Just trust me; I know things,” said Buttons. “Besides, there’s only about twenty women total in this town, so you’re a valuable commodity.”
He walked along the narrow counter toward the door, winding through piles of brushes, jars, and other small containers. His careful paws didn’t disturb a single one.
“Isn’t he cute!” said the women as he passed by with his tail high and waving goodbye.
Madame slapped the makeup brush back on the shelf in front of Roz and clapped her hands.
“All right gals, time to get back out to the saloon and get those boys to buy you some drinks!” said Madame. “You too. Get going,” she said to Roz.
Madame gave her a hard shove that knocked her off her stool and then shoved her again toward the door.
Chapter 3
Jonah the deputy sat at one end of the bar drinking a sarsaparilla. The wide brim of his hat was tipped down low over his eyes, and he pretended that he wasn’t interested in the people down at the other end.
The first focus of his curiosity was Cowboy Bob, the owner of the saloon. Some strange things had been happening in town. And there was something even stranger about Cowboy Bob, if that was his real name. Could there be a connection?
The small wild west town mainly attracted two kinds of people—gold miners and outlaws. It was a dangerous place for a lawman, but Jonah had an eagle eye and a fast hand.
He’d been the town’s deputy for three years now, and he’d had a steady stream of gunfights to keep him sharp. But around the time Cowboy Bob came to town, that stream had dried up. Jonah would hear news of some outlaw or gang heading to town or just getting to town, but when he went out to gun them down, they’d be gone. Clean disappeared off the face of the Earth and never heard from again.
No one seemed to think this was a problem. Sheriff DuBois didn’t.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the teeth,” he told Jonah.
But Jonah was a curious type, and it rankled him. Rattled around in his brain like a mystery he had to solve.
Then someone even more curious and interesting came to town. The new saloon gal who was sitting down at the other end of the bar. She’d arrived in the stagecoach all the way from New York City. That was some trip!
She didn’t look like any saloon gal Jonah had ever seen. Even the ones who made it all the way out here from back east still had those easy, breezy looks and ways, but not this one. And even dressed up in frilly skirts and feathers, she sure didn’t look like she belonged in this saloon. All prim and proper, not talking to anyone, and reading a book of all things.
The mystery of the new dancer distracted Jonah from the curious “case of the disappearing bad guys,” as he called it.
She must be running from something, he decided. But what could it be?
⌛
Roz sat at the other end of the saloon’s long bar. Her book, Bram Storker’s Dracula, was open on the rough wood counter in front of her. It was a fascinating story she’d purchased in New York. Racier and more frightening than any of the books that were available in the library in Salem. Only books that were approved by the town’s puritanical library society made it onto the library’s shelves.
Dracula would have been burned if the society members ever got their hands on a copy. But Roz was mesmerized by the previously forbidden tale, and she couldn’t put it down. She reached the part where the hero Jonathan realized that his life was in danger. He’d finished the solicitor’s work Count Dracula had needed done. Then the count left for England, leaving Jonathan trapped in his castle after giving the resident female vampires permission to make a meal of him.
This saloon job is bad, but at least I don’t have to worry about that happening, Roz thought. In real life, no employer would a use person to get a job done and then cast that person into the jaws of monsters.
Roz’s thoughts about her book were interrupted by a conversation a few feet away. “That new gal…” she heard Madame say.
Now Roz’s ears perked up. Madame was saying—in so many words—that Roz was a loser because she didn’t socialize with the saloon’s clientele.
It was impossible not to eavesdrop, so she stared down at her book, pretending to read, but Roz listened to the conversation that concerned her. Then she felt Buttons down b
y her feet, leaning against her ankles.
“What are you doing down there?” Roz asked him mentally.
“I’m looking after your interests and mine,” Buttons answered in her mind.
“I’m sure you’re trying, and I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” Roz answered him, “but I’m starting to wonder if letting a cat arrange my life is really a good idea.”
Buttons sniffed out loud. “I can’t believe you would doubt me after I saved you from the witch hunter!” he said mentally.
“It’s bad enough having to dance around like a floozy on that stage, but this part of the job is so awkward!” Roz continued. “Now they expect me to walk up and introduce myself to strange men, and then sit with them and let them grope me and who knows what! That wasn’t in the contract I signed.”
“I know it wasn’t, or I wouldn’t have let you sign it,” said Buttons. “You don’t have to accost strange men. Just leave everything to me. Anyway, keep quiet now. I need to hear what they’re saying about you.”
Roz stopped talking to him and listened too.
Madame was complaining to the saloon owner, Cowboy Bob. The tall man, dressed all in loud red leather, leaned his back against the wall. One long leg was bent, and a flashy cowboy boot rested up on the wall too. Thick blonde hair peeked out under the large-brimmed hat that shaded his eyes.
For all the movement he makes, he could be asleep, Roz thought.
“There she is again—sitting there reading a book when she should be mingling and sitting on laps! In all my years as a saloon madam, I’ve never seen the like of it. Can you believe her?” Madame’s loud voice would have woken up the devil.
“Well ma’am, let me take a look see,” said the slow-talking Cowboy Bob in a thick Texas drawl.
Roz felt the burn of an intense gaze, but she kept her eyes on her book.
“I know she has a contract, but you need to fire her,” insisted Madame. “If you don’t, she’ll drive away all the increase of customers we’ve had since around the time she started working here. Put her out on the street where she can earn an honest living.”
“Hmm,” said Cowboy Bob, turning to look around the saloon. “That’s interesting ma’am, real interesting. But I don’t see anyone exactly running for the door. Now ma’am, I appreciate your kind concern for my business, but I’m not the type to throw a young gal out on the street. You all know I’m from Texas, right? Now, why don’t you just get yourself a shot of whiskey and go relax somewhere.”
“Ooh! Is that an invitation, Cowboy Bob?” asked Madame.
Roz risked a glance at them.
At six foot six, Cowboy Bob towered over the short Madame, who tilted her head way back to smile up at him. She tugged down her bodice, so he could get a clearer view.
I wish I hadn’t seen that, thought Roz.
But Cowboy Bob didn’t look down at Madame.
“Now Madame, you all know I’ve been courting that little filly over there,” said Cowboy Bob.
He gestured with a long arm toward the one of the dancers. Lovely Loretta, a voluptuous blonde, sat at a table drinking with another man, but her eyes were all for Cowboy Bob.
“When you get tired of her, I’ll be waiting,” said Madame. “Now, about this poor excuse for a saloon gal. If she doesn’t socialize, and no one buys her any drinks, then she’s not paying her way here. She’s nothing but a drain on our profits.”
⌛
Down at the other end of the bar, Jonah didn’t have to hear what exactly Madame and Cowboy Bob were saying to get the gist of it. He was normally a shy and reserved man around women, but the strong urge to help a damsel in distress kicked him into motion. He got off his stool and ambled over to Roz.
⌛
“Howdy ma’am,” Roz heard a smooth male voice speak right next to her.
She looked up from her book and saw a rustic-looking officer of the law tipping his large cowboy hat to her.
“How do you do,” Roz answered in the cold, stiff librarian’s voice she used to discourage unwanted conversation with strangers.
The slap of a small cat paw landed on her stockinged ankle. Fortunately, the claws were pulled in.
“Be friendly! You’re a saloon girl, remember?” said Buttons telepathically. “Those people are watching you, remember?”
Roz looked over at Madame and Cowboy Bob, who were indeed watching with unveiled interest.
“Fine!” said Roz mentally to Buttons.
The lawman was still standing there, as if waiting for her to say something else.
Well, at least he appears and smells clean, unlike many of the other specimens in this establishment, Roz thought.
“Hello, sheriff. I’m Roz. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not the sheriff, ma’am. I’m just a deputy. Deputy Jonah, but you can call me Jonah.”
Jonah took off his hat, revealing a thick mane of dark hair above a tan-skinned face. He stared at Roz with intense green eyes and held his hat against a toned, muscular chest.
Roz paused, at a loss for words.
“Call him Jonah!” said Buttons in her head. “Invite him to sit down.”
“Jonah,” said Roz. “Would you like to sit down…here?”
“And talk,” said Buttons in her mind.
“And talk,” said Roz.
“Why thank you, ma’am. Don’t mind if I do,” said Jonah.
He straddled the stood next to Roz as if mounting a horse. She looked over at her two employers. They were still staring her way.
This conversation is so awkward! thought Roz. When will it be over? Oh wait—it hasn’t started yet!
“You’re doing great,” said Buttons mentally.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Roz answered him in her mind.
“Can I buy you a drink, ma’am?” Jonah asked.
“Thank you, sir,” said Roz, “but I don’t drink spirits.”
“Don’t drink them myself, ma’am—I’m on the job—but the sarsaparilla’s mighty tasty here,” said Jonah.
“Two sarsaparillas, if you please,” Jonah said to Madame, who had moved closer and was hovering nearby.
“Right away, Deputy Jonah,” Madame answered.
Then she left to make the drinks.
“What job are you doing here in the saloon?” asked Roz.
Although the customers looked rough, Cowboy Bob didn’t let them bring their guns in, and they were well behaved. Singing along with the saloon’s loud music, cheering the dancing girls, and some occasional pawing was about as rowdy as they got.
“I’m glad you asked that question, ma’am,” said Jonah with a smile that made Roz’s heart rate speed up for no reason she could account for. “It’s quite the mystery.”
“A mystery, you say?” she asked.
Now the librarian in her became more interested in this surprisingly soft-spoken man.
Madame stopped in front of them and set their drinks down on the bar.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Jonah.
He pulled some coins out of his pocket and plunked them down.
“These here drinks are on the house,” a deep voice said.
Roz looked up to see Cowboy Bob standing right in front of her, although she hadn’t seen him walk over.
“What? What?” said Madame.
She waved her arms about in a confused manner.
“It’s common courtesy to buy a lawman some drinks,” said Cowboy Bob. “After all, he’s in here protecting us all.”
“Not much protecting needed lately,” Jonah muttered.
Madame leaned close to Cowboy Bob and spoke in a loud whisper: “Just when she’s starting to pull her weight and bring in some cash, you’re going to turn it down?”
“Why ma’am, I think our new gal is doing just fine. Now, why don’t you just get along and be about your business?”
“What!” Madame stared up at Cowboy Bob with a face turning bright red.
Roz watched Cowboy Bob look down at Madame
and gaze into her eyes. Madame stilled, and her color returned to normal.
“Yes, Cowboy Bob. I’ll do that,” Madame said in a somewhat robotic voice.
Feeling confused, Roz looked over at Jonah. He was watching the scene with no expression on his face. And for once, Buttons wasn’t talking in her head either. She felt the cat next to her ankle, still and silent as if listening.
Roz tilted her head back a bit to look up at Cowboy Bob’s face.
“I see you’re a reader, ma’am,” the long, tall saloon owner said to Roz. “I’m kind of a reader myself. What are you reading there?”
Roz lifted the book up and showed its cover to Cowboy Bob.
“It’s Bram Storker’s Dracula,” she said. “A fascinating story. Have you heard of it?”
“Oh, ma’am. Yeah, I read that ole thing. And I can tell you for sure that it’s wrong about just about everything. No need to waste your time reading that pack of lies, ma’am,” said Cowboy Bob.
Roz was surprised that he’d read Dracula already. It was a new release she’d bought in New York, and she hadn’t seen any bookstores or even a library in this town.
“Well, of course it’s not true. It’s a fictional story,” Roz defended the book she was enjoying so much.
After that came out of her mouth, she wished she could take it back.
Oh no! I’ve offended my boss! she thought.
But Cowboy Bob just chuckled.
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Of course, it’s just a made-up story. That’s what I meant to say.”
Roz looked up at him, trying to read his face. Cowboy Bob met her eyes. Then he leaned down toward her and gazed into her eyes with the same intense stare he’d just fixed on Madame.
Now Roz noticed the intense, beautiful blue color of his eyes. For some reason, she felt frightened and wanted to look away, but she couldn’t.
Drinks rattled when Buttons, heavier than he used to be, landed with a thump on the bar. He stood in front of Roz, faced Cowboy Bob, and snarled at him.
“Back off!” Roz heard Buttons say in her mind.
But he wasn’t talking to her. He was threatening Cowboy Bob!
