Summers, True

by Poppy

That was a simple query. Jeremiah had asked it before but not in quite the same tone. No, it was only her lively awareness of what had happened that was making her uneasy. "I was at home."

  "Just at home, just as usual?"

  Jeremiah could not have a spy on her at home. He would not dare. But this town was as full of gossip as a dog of barks. Dex had mentioned the men living next door, so he had seen somebody entering or leaving. If they also had had a caller, who had seen Dex at her door, that might have been mentioned later at the Palace.

  "Were you?" Jeremiah insisted.

  That gloating sharpness. Jeremiah was trying to trap her into a lie. Daisy had a saying about that, too. When you were caught, tell as much of the truth as you dared.

  "I had a message this morning," Poppy said and stretched the truth not at all as she admitted virtuously, "I have written my mother, but I have not heard from her."

  "Your mother's alive? You've never said anything about your family."

  Poppy felt a little giddy with success. "You didn't ask, but of course asking questions about a person's past is not a la mode here. Of course my mother's alive. And my grandparents. You should ask Andy about them. He adores them."

  "Then why did you arrive here with that batch of misbegotten Ingots?"

  "When you have questions, you should ask me, sir, not brood about the matter in silence. It was a matter of time, an English boat we missed." They certainly had missed Jack's boat, sold in the Vendee, for if they had had that, they would not have needed to walk those wet and muddy miles on miles. If that was another time and place, Jeremiah did not need to be informed of every small detail. "So the first available boat." She shrugged delicately.

  Jeremiah still was not entirely content. "You had news of your mother?"

  "Yes. Important news."

  "What?"

  Jeremiah was too insistent. He knew something, so as much of the truth as she dared. Poppy dabbed daintily at her lips with the heavy linen napkin, put it down, and looked at Jeremiah with wide, innocent eyes.

  "Of her marriage. When we left, she was still unsettled in her mind. But we could not wait." Poppy sighed gently. "I am so happy she decided on the gentleman, for he is a most reasonable man."

  "I still don't understand why you are here if you have such happy family ties at home."

  "Jack and Andy."

  "I know your brother had the gold fever bad, but most young men don't drag their sisters with them when they come here."

  Never, Poppy thought, had a trout been paid for so dearly. "Andy," she sighed, scrambling through her mind for a likely story.

  "Andy?"

  "A sea voyage, his health." Nobody could deny sea air was healthy. "But he could not accompany Jack to the gold fields once they arrived here or be left alone in San Francisco."

  Jeremiah looked at her from under knotted brows. Plainly he doubted her, but he could not find a flaw in the story. "So somebody brought you a message about your mother's wedding?"

  "Yes." So Dex had been seen and probably recognized. Poppy complied with more truths, though not that she still had no idea of Daisy's name and address. "Since her husband has a country place and a town house and she could be at either, I wrote to her at her bank. And the bank returned her message."

  "So that was it." Jeremiah relaxed.

  That was proof he had known of Dex's visit. Poppy did not know whether she was more frightened or furious. If every word she said, every step she took, every person she saw, went straight back to Jeremiah, all the simple pleasures of her life were over. She might as well be in prison.

  "I've kept you too long," Jeremiah said, courteous again.

  Too long for your own good, Poppy seethed. She would never again sit quietly and let him question her like a prisoner before a judge. She should not have done it now. Except the memory of Dex's kisses, his strong body close to hers, all the miracle of their love alive again for that brief time, had been so overwhelmingly fresh in her mind,. she had been weak and off guard. She would not be caught twice.

  She could only be thankful Jeremiah was less astute than Josh, the merchant. Josh had seen at once that her rich clothing did not fit the manner in which she had traveled and arrived.

  Jeremiah was himself too much the product of a raw new society to perceive the great difference between her fine Parisian creations and the gaudy, locally made gowns the other girls wore. He did not appreciate the incongruity that a girl who claimed to be of good family had arrived without funds or introductions.

  Poppy gave the earrings to Pete to put in the Palace safe. She drifted over and saw that Maurice had steadied down and was himself again. She spoke to Polly, who was putting on weight but was so reliable the Palace kept her. Polly touched the satin dress enviously and whispered that two of the girls had not appeared, so they were supposed to keep moving to give an impression there were girls at every table. Sue was there, but she had been out all night and to make it worse, she was drinking straight brandy. Poppy did not ask about Elsa. Elsa had a crippled husband to support and was always there. Phillipa was reliable, too, but she was as lack-brained as she was pretty and, if nobody asked for her company, might settle in just one spot and smile bemusedly for hours.

  Poppy kept moving with a flutter of her skirts and a smile and a word to every man she recognized. The day had been too full, too loaded with joy and pain and happiness and outrage, but she acted the beauty, amusing and amused. That was her job, and the hours dragged endlessly.

  Her head and feet were ;aching by the time the carriage called for her that night. The city never really slept, but most of the businesses were closed, their doors and windows barred, and every doorway held a sleeping body. The steam paddy had stopped for the night, no big whiskey wagons rolled and rumbled, no miners drove their loaded donkeys out of town, and no fine carriage sped along. An occasional serape-wrapped Mexican galloped past, a few men walked briskly as if on some urgent concern, a couple of tired Chilean girls paraded late, a discreet closed carriage carried some man on his private business.

  Once they left the blare of light and music from the gambling halls behind, the only sounds were the squalling of cats in back yards and the occasional faint twanging of a Mexican guitar. Only the madams' houses were brightly lit, though their curtains were drawn. Later the produce wagons would roll in to feed the city, and at first light, loading would begin on the wharves, but now the town dozed.

  Poppy leaned back with closed eyes. For some reason tonight the driver was not full of his usual gossip, and she was grateful for the silence because she was too tired to listen or answer. She heard the rush of feet, the driver's shout of dismay and was thrown forward and half out of the seat as the carriage stopped with a jolt.

  They were surrounded by masked figures, one holding the rearing horse, one dragging at the driver, trying to pull him from his seat, and another trying to climb up beside him. Others were tearing at the door beside her. Poppy tumbled back in the seat and reached in her basket. She had not put on her boots for the drive home, and their heels were hard. She slashed at the hands pulling at the door and saw the driver was lashing out with his whip, slashing away at both sides until the sharp leather snapped and hissed. Poppy pounded harder at the blur of faces at the door, and the men yelped and fell back as the driver's attackers jumped away from his lashing. With a shout, the driver slashed out at the rearing horse and the man holding its head until he dropped the head strap and jumped clear.

  Poppy held the door closed as the driver whipped the horse and they raced up the road. Behind them, the men raised a futile yell, and then they were lost in the darkness. The driver half stood, whip rising and falling, and the horse laid out at a dead run.

  "Pull up," Poppy ordered. "Pull up. Do you want a runaway?"

  The driver sawed at the reins, and the tired horse seemed content to slow to a trot. "Them Sydney Ducks, miss, it was them Sydney Ducks. They're busting out again. We'll never clean out that nest of murderers until we turn the Vigilante
s loose on them again."

  "Hey, now," Poppy said softly. "Hey, now."

  "You weren't here in the old days, miss, so you don't know how bad it was and what. a difference the Vigilantes made and how grateful we can be to live here now when things like tonight don't happen very often. You can't imagine how bad it was and how quick they changed it. But maybe it could go bad again, looks like."

  "I'm listening," Poppy said. "I'm listening to every word you say." They sounded remarkably like Jeremiah's words.

  The driver pulled up in front of her house. "We were just mighty lucky, miss, to get away as easy as we did."

  "We fought them off," Poppy said. "Didn't we?"

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  THE next morning Poppy did not care if the whole town was watching her. She waited until she heard voices and smelled coffee next door. Then, in the plain blue wool she wore around the house, she marched over and knocked on the tenants' door.

  Maurice, shaved and dressed but still in his shirt sleeves, opened the door, smiled, and raised an eyebrow. "Miss Landlady, my dear, surely we're not behind in our rent. So how may I help you?"

  "I want to talk to you. If it's not convenient to talk inside, I'll talk here."

  "There's a foggy chill in the air this morning," Maurice said and stepped back. "My friends are still in their rooms dressing, but we're always delighted to see you. May I offer you a cup of coffee?"

  "Offer and deliver. Black, please."

  Poppy always was amazed at how neat and clean the men kept their house. They had no rugs, curtains, pictures, or pretty pillows, but everything was scrubbed and every piece of furniture in place to an exact inch. She took a chair at the round table in the middle.

  "Maurice, you always wear a gun."

  He put a cup of coffee at her elbow and seated himself opposite with another. "It is one of the necessary ornaments for a gambling gentleman's attire."

  "Do you have more than one of those little ornaments?"

  Maurice's eyes narrowed. "What has happened?"

  "Nothing. That's the reason I want a gun."

  "I'm offering no reward for riddles."

  "My carriage was attacked last night."

  "That's nothing. You had those earrings that miner gave you, worth a small fortune."

  "They're in Pete's safe. And, yes, it was nothing. We would never have got away if it had been a real attack. It was supposed to scare me and make me see the error of my ways."

  "I think instead it made you very angry."

  "Yes again. Jeremiah." Her hands clenched into fists. "He questioned me yesterday as if I were a criminal in the dock." .

  "He was very jealous, and you-" Maurice chuckled, "-you looked exactly like a little girl swearing she has not been in Mama's box of sweets, and all the time her face is smeared with chocolate."

  Poppy stared at him. "I'm glad you're not in love with me. You know entirely too much about women."

  "I had six sisters and no brothers."

  "No wonder you're a gambler." Poppy shook her head and then said intensely, "Jeremiah is determined to marry me. Now. Today. Immediately. And he'd be a tyrant. I couldn't draw a breath without his spying on me."

  "I think so, yes."

  "Those men attacked us, at least six of them. We couldn't have got away. But we did, and nobody was hurt. The driver will report my every move to Jeremiah." Poppy shuddered. "I'm sure he arranged it, and he'll be waiting for me at the Palace as usual, and it'll be questions, questions, questions."

  "The song is called 'Marry Me and You'll Be Safe.' "

  "Exactly. The driver is Jeremiah's man. I've always thought he reported straight back everything he saw or I said. Then last night he betrayed himself completely after it was all over. He began parroting everything Jeremiah says, about the Vigilantes and how great they were and how we're going to need them again."

  "But the drive home is a great convenience."

  "I'd have to hire somebody, and I wouldn't feel easy with a different driver every night."

  "So you think if you have a gun you can show it to Jeremiah and say you can take care of yourself? Have you thought of telling him you know the attack last night was a piece of playacting?"

  "With anybody else, yes. With Jeremiah, I don't know what kind of a storm it might blow up. He's not reasonable. He tried to get those earrings away from me, not that he wanted the earrings but because another man gave them to me. I don't think he could stand having a bluff called."

  "He is not a man for you to marry," Maurice agreed and drummed his fingers on the table. "I do not like this always carrying a gun. I think it is a bad habit. I do it only because a gambler is obliged." He shrugged.

  "Why is it a bad habit?"

  "Because if you have a gun, you can be tempted to use it. Just once. That once can be too often."

  "I wouldn't use it," Poppy said. "I'd just have it to show."

  "That is even more dangerous. What if the other person also has a gun and that person shoots? You should not carry a gun unless you know, completement, how to use it."

  "Then what am I supposed to do?"

  "You go to the Palace and see what kind of a storm Jeremiah blows up today. I will watch. Perhaps you might give me the pleasure of having coffee here again tomorrow morning?"

  Poppy's eyes sparkled. "I'll give you the pleasure of listening to what he has to say about my being in here this morning. I have ten dollars that says he will know about it."

  "I do not bet to lose."

  Poppy put on a pink, candy-striped dress that she usually considered too missish for the Palace. Today it seemed right, making her look like a sweetly lovely woman, not a professional beauty. She did not expect Dex. His mind was set on Felicite, and he was not a schoolboy to rush back to a flame that fascinated him when he knew its dangers. Still, she put on a dress he would. admire.

  For the first time Poppy dreaded walking into the Palace. Until now she had thought she had the most desirable job in the world. She liked almost everybody she worked with, she worked in a place designed for amusement. Everything was conducive to pleasure. She wore her beautiful clothes and was extravagantly admired. She listened to music all day long. She walked on the softest carpets, ate the best food, drank the finest wines. She knew everybody who mattered, met all the strangers who came to town, and heard immediately everything that happened. She listened to all the stories of defeats and triumphs, adventures and delights, until each day was like reading a new fortnightly book full of fresh stories.

  Now the Palace seemed like a gaudy dream in a long twilight, contrasted to the vividness of her only real life, the life that included Dex. StilI, she could have strolled into the Palace today and felt she was only playing a part in an amusing charade, if the dread of the obligatory half hour she must spend with Jeremiah had not hung over her like a dark cloud, smudging everything.

  She must have been lack-witted ever to have listened to Jeremiah's proposals. Or else she had been drifting half awake in that twilight dream. That she had not realized what kind of man he was did not excuse her. She had been bitterly angry with Dex, but she should have known she should never marry anyone else when the mere sight of Dex or the sound of his voice could arouse her.

  Now she must try to make Jeremiah understand, and she hoped she could do it sweetly and kindly, that he would be happier if he stopped seeing her since she could not consider marriage, now or ever. That was simple and reasonable. But she knew Jeremiah's response would be neither simple nor reasonable.

  Poppy felt so nervous as she walked beside him to the handsomely upholstered chairs beside the wall she did not see how she could eat a bite. She murmured she had a fancy for only a small cake with her coffee.

  "You had a frightening experience last night," Jeremiah said understandingly.

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "The same driver calls for me in the morning. A convenient arrangement. A single man has no need of a private carriage."

  Jeremiah was grow
ing sure of himself to admit that much. "Not too frightening," Poppy murmured."Nobody was hurt."

  "I rewarded the driver well."

  "I am sure you did."

  Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. "Something has happened. You've changed."

  "Au contraire. I am content with my condition in life. Well content. I have no wish to change it."

  "A young and beautiful woman should not be alone in this town."

  "I have a brother."

  "A mischievous young chap. Worse than nothing."

  Caution slowed her tongue. Jeremiah knew she had a brother out in the diggings, but if he was forgetting him, this was no time to call attention to Jack. Dex was adroit at picking up the smallest breath of rumor. She had told him her brother had left California.