by Ali Olson
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
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Dreams of Gold
About the Author
Memories of Gold
A Gold Rush Romance
by
Ali Olson
Copyright © 2015 by Ali Olson. All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Mary Fisher looked in the mirror as she applied the last touches of rouge to her lips and cheeks, inspecting the overall result. While she could do little to improve the darkness of her skin, the added pink brought out the blue of her eyes and made her look almost white, which always attracted the men.
“Come on, Mary! We have got to get downstairs. Daisy will be watching for us by this time, and she’ll be none too happy!” said Josie as she adjusted the lace of her new midnight-blue dress.
Mary practiced her smile once and turned away from the mirror, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for the long evening ahead. She and Josie left the room, Mary dark and exotic with her long curls falling over her shoulders, Josie fair and coquettish, her hair up in an intricate bun and decorated with ostrich feathers.
Josie paused and leaned against the door jamb as a coughing fit racked her body. It was gone in a moment, and Josie, though pale, stood straight once again. Mary looked over at Josie and put her arm on her friend’s shoulder. “Should I tell Daisy you’re still ill and need to rest tonight? She would understand.”
Josie shook her head and waved off Mary’s concern. “I’m fine, Mary. A touch of that cold is lingering, that’s all. No need for your worry or for me to lose a night of work.”
Mary looked closely at her friend. “Are you sure? You look pale.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “I am well enough. Let’s go now, or Daisy will be worried.”
She strode through the hallway, but Mary watched her, looking for any other signs of illness. Josie seemed fine, though, and after a moment she looked back at Mary and smiled, clearly ready to go downstairs. Mary shrugged off her concern, realizing that she would never bend Josie to her will, and followed her to the stairway.
On the lower floor of the business, the large room had already begun to fill with men. Mary glanced around the room, almost unconsciously searching for the one person she most hoped to see and least expected to find. She wanted to see a friendly face, that friendly face, but it had been a long time since she’d seen it and she doubted if she would even recognize it after all these years. It was the silly girl inside her that continued to look night after night for somebody she had not seen such a long time.
She forced her mind to attend to the task and hand and looked around once more, this time noting the men who were there rather than the one who wasn’t. Before her was a room packed with men of all kinds. Men from the town, men from the mining camps by the river, and the new men that had just come west for the first time.
Each group was starkly different than the other, but none more so than the newcomers. Their clothes were nicer and their skin wasn’t yet darkened from the sun, but that wasn’t the true difference, Mary thought. It was their eyes, she observed as her gaze passed from one man to another. The eyes of the men that had been around the camps and had tried their luck at panning still showed greed, but in the new men it was lit with fresh optimism and surety, as if they believed there were giant nuggets of gold just waiting for them to try their hands. As if the gold hid from others, but would gladly give itself up for them.
Mary shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. Now was not the time for wandering minds, if she wanted to get her fair share of the night. She glanced around the room one final time, settling down to her purpose. This time, she wasn’t looking at the men’s eyes, but rather at their hands and their lips. Some were intent upon the glass in front of them, quietly trying to lose themselves in drink, their arms resting on the bar as if they longed to sink their heads down on them. She knew to stay clear of those ones.
Others were there for entertainment and company, the hallmarks that made Daisy’s establishment stand out from the others in town, and Mary mentally singled out those who were willing to pay for more than just a game of poker and a glass of whiskey. They were the ones whose money was flowing freely from their fingertips and whose mouths showed the cocky grin of somebody who had cash to burn before the sun came up.
There. She focused her eyes on the man playing cards near the center of the room. He was shouting for more whiskey and holding several bills in the air for the bartender to see. He was in his early forties, weathered, but seemed to expect a good evening. And Mary was going to be the one to give it to him.
She briefly clasped hands with Josie, assuring herself that her friend would be fine, before walking to the bar. She knew exactly what to do now that she had her target gentleman in mind. Nodding at Abe, the old bartender who was almost like a grandfather to her and the other girls, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and strolled over to the poker game and the boisterous man.
As soon as he noticed the woman coming toward him with the alcohol, the man’s smile widened and his attention on the game faltered. He set down his cards as she sidled closer. He stood and raised his hat in a decent mimic of what Mary imagined wealthy men in the East did when they encountered a well-bred lady. She gave him a brilliant smile. Her low, sultry voice caused him to lean in as she spoke, just as she knew it would.
Though she had lived in California her entire life, when she spoke to the man, she had a southern lilt to her sentences which spoke of warm evenings on plantations and the civility of sitting on a grand porch with a mint julep.
“Why hello, hon. I brought you your drink, and some company if you’d like.”
His face was only a few inches from hers, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She was glad it wasn’t too strong, for fear he’d pass out long before the poker game was over. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat gracefully, moving her hair off her shoulders so he could gaze at her elegant shoulders and the hint of breast peeking from the top of her dress.
For Mary, this was the most important part of the evening. Find the right man and give him exactly the company he was looking for. Sometimes she would need to sit quietly, serving him drinks and food. Other times she’d play cards as well, smiling and laughing at the jokes of all the men, as well as contributing her own to the conversation. Daisy charged more for everything in her saloon, but the service made it worth it, and Mary, who had been working there for nearly a year, knew what it took to be one of Daisy’s girls and keep the men willing to pay those prices.
The jovial man threw his cards on the table to be shuffled. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. Name’s Jeffrey.”
She held
out her hand to him, a gesture she hoped would make him feel aristocratic. By the way he kissed her fingers, she knew it was the right choice. “And I am quite glad to meet you, Jeffrey. My name is Mary.”
He nodded, but was silent. He seemed unsure of what to say to this lovely woman who had just appeared. “Um, would you like to play cards, Miss Mary?” he asked awkwardly, making a face after he said it, as if realizing the stupidity of asking such a fancy, beautiful woman to play poker with a bunch of men.
She grinned at him again, glad that she would get to have some fun. “I would absolutely love to—” She allowed her expression to change to one of melancholy even as his look changed from angst to excitement, “but I simply don’t have a cent on me, sir, and I see you all are playing for some rather high stakes.”
She wondered how much he would give her as he rapidly pushed a pile of chips her direction. She thanked him profusely, putting her hand on his arm as she did so, which caused him to blush happily. As she poured him a glass of whiskey, she eyed the stack expertly and was happy to see that he was quite generous. She had nearly one hundred dollars stacked in front of her.
Now there was another decision to make: win or lose? It was a tough choice.
Some men loved watching her hold her own at the table and finish on top when the game was said and done, but others felt unmanned and frustrated if they were beaten by a woman. She decided to play a few hands first and get to know this Jeffrey more before making her judgment.
She quickly noticed that this wasn’t his first game of cards, but it was far from his thousandth, and most of his pile of chips would be gone before the night was up. She could make it back, but decided it would be better if they both lost and laughed about the unfortunate hands together. After all, he seemed not to be worried about the money and was simply there to have a good time of it.
Having made her assessment, she looked across the table at Phil, a regular poker player in the saloon. She raised one eyebrow and watched him nod almost imperceptibly, agreeing to their usual arrangement.
As quickly as she expected, both her pile and Jeffrey’s shrank, but neither of them seemed to mind. On the contrary, they got happier and more boisterous as the game continued on. Most of Mary’s chips made their way into Phil’s pile, and she knew he would leave a good chunk of change for her with the bartender before he quit for the night.
She smiled and laughed with Jeffrey, matching his mood perfectly, but watched closely to be sure that there was still a pile of his money on their side of the table. After an hour, the saloon was getting more crowded and Mary knew her time to sit and play cards was waning.
“Well, Mister Jeffrey,”—men loved it when she used formalities; it made them feel like gentlemen—“this has been a very pleasant evening. Thank you for letting me share it with you. Would you like to join me upstairs, where we can talk more privately and continue this wonderful night?”
She normally did not need to invite the men she encountered to go upstairs, but this one seemed unsure of how to broach the subject, so she helped him.
He blushed again, but appeared pleased as he stood up with her, ready to follow wherever she led. She hid her impatience at his reserve, reminding herself that she would get her pay regardless of how shy he was. He stood up, tottering slightly from the alcohol, and held out his arm to her, which she graciously took after gathering the remainder of his chips.
She flashed her dazzling smile at him and gestured towards the stairs, and they began their walk across the room. Near the bar, she spotted Daisy, the owner of the saloon, talking to a large group of men, all of whom were laughing. They locked eyes and Daisy nodded, and Mary turned her attention back to Jeffrey.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you were here this evening, Mister Jeffrey. I was worried I’d be bored and lonely, but then here you come and make it pleasant as a picnic in spring.”
He blushed again. “Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am. It’s been a long time since I’ve had female company, and I don’t believe I’ve ever met a woman as beautiful and witty as you.”
She thanked him, her tone quiet and demure, though inside she was shaking her head at the sentimentalities. It was certainly better than the men that tried to make inappropriate advances downstairs, in public, but the men who pretended they were just there for conversation irritated her. Why wouldn’t they just recognize the situation for what it was, instead of forcing her to act the shy maiden?
“You flatter me, sir.” She opened the door to an elegant room, blue and green silks covering the prominent bed. “Please come in. You must be weary.”
He stumbled slightly walking across the threshold, but regained his balance and sat gingerly on the side of the bed. She sat beside him and looked at him with her most sensuous gaze, their faces close. Come on, Jeffy-boy. Just make the move already. She could see the lust in his eyes and willed him to let it loose. Mary would take control of the situation if she had to, but it was always easier when the men did what they wanted without needing her to lead them every step of the way.
Jeffrey broke the eye contact and slumped forward, his elbows on his legs and hands clasped together, as if praying. “I’m sorry, Miss Mary, but I’m not sure about this.”
Mary held back a sigh, instead changing her facial expression to one of concern and sympathy. She always got the trickiest customers. How was it possible she could spot a bum horse from a mile away, but these miners could still pull one over on her?
She tried to bring him around, careful not to spook him. “Mister Jeffrey, what’s wrong? I would like to help you, if I may.”
“It’s just that, I wasn’t lying before when I said I hadn’t been around a woman in a long time. I have a missus, back over in Missouri. I left her to come over to try my hand at panning, and she’s waitin’ back there for me. Been waitin’ two years, she has. I feel right awful about spending time here with you when she’s so far away on her lonesome.”
Even though it made her evening a little more difficult, it was a nice surprise to hear his loyalty. Most men who traveled west without their wives in tow felt no such need for fidelity. Even so, that kind of sentimentality would do no good out in the rough, and she knew it would only cause him pain in the long run.
She dropped her attempt at manners and elegant talk, sliding into her California dialect. “Jeffrey, I sure do understand your plight, and I don’t intend to take no husbands from their lawful wives, but the rules of marriage just ain’t quite so settled out here. In fact, this place, the upstairs of a saloon with a willing lady, is probably just what you need. Otherwise, you’ll find your pants crawling with ants, and that’s how you end up in a mess, with a wife awaitin’ for you and somebody else expectin’ marriage from you because she don’t want no bastard child on her hands. Or you get the law up on you about someone else’s missus that strayed too far from home. Up here,” she gestured around, “it’s easy. We have some fun and you go on your merry way.”
Her words seemed to affect him, and he stared at her like a little boy waiting to be told what to do. She moved closer to him on the bed and turned so her breasts were pressed up against his arm, leaning in and kissing him sensuously on the lips. He pressed back, harder, with deep wanting.
From there, his body took over and she was glad of it, done with moralizing and speeches. He reached for her breasts, grabbing at them through her dress, fumbling with his urgency and drunkenness. She reached around to her back and undid the fastenings with nimble fingers, understanding his desperate need not to allow a single moment of thought or reflection.
With her dress loosened, she quickly shimmied out of it, leaving her top half bare and only a few scanty undergarments on her lower half. She had learned long ago that corsets and intricate underclothes just got in the way of her job and were unnecessary with her small figure. He stared hungrily at her chest as he began to undo his clothes. She leaned in again, helping with his clothing as he kissed her deeply, pressing into her, now messing with a bu
tton, now grabbing at a luscious breast, teasing the nipple.
Mary complied, allowing him access to her body, which he took with devouring intensity. The man’s urgency was obvious as he pressed her back onto the bed, feeling every inch of her with his hands. It astonished her that still, after all this time, she had the urge to push him away. She forced her body to stay calm and relaxed as his forceful hands removed her garters and undergarments, the hesitation of a few minutes before completely forgotten.
He entered her, thrusting hard and deep and fast. Mary bit her lip to keep from crying out. Despite the precautions and her experience, it still hurt occasionally when a man took her. Within moments, he gasped and dropped his weight onto her, spent.
His lust slaked, Jeffrey rolled off her and lay, panting from the exertion. From the rapidity and hunger when he took her, it was clear he had not been lying. He hadn’t had the company of a woman, wife or otherwise, for quite a long time. She smiled at him and got up. “Well, Mister Jeffrey, I hope you had a wonderful evening and will come back to visit me again real soon.”
She looked over her shoulder at him as she dressed, and noticed the stricken look on his face. She dropped the pretenses one last time. “Listen, don’t feel too hard about it. Like I said before, rules about men and women out here are a mite fuzzier, and the quicker you learn that, the better it’ll be for everybody, including your wife.”
He nodded, but his eyes still showed he was unsure. She finished dressing, patted him on the leg sympathetically, and left for the dressing room all the girls used to tidy themselves up. She’d have to get back downstairs shortly to address the regulars.
Daisy let the girls choose their first man of the evening—it was a good business decision, letting the men see the beautiful women as they gave their attentions to other men; it whetted their appetites before the bar became crowded and the drinking had made them bold and ready to lay out their money—but by this time there was probably another waiting for her services, and she didn’t want Daisy to get impatient. She was a good lady and took care that the women under her employ were happy, but she disliked tardiness, and Mary had no desire to hear a lecture about the importance of time for her business.
