Until Tomorrow

by Rosanne Bittner

  “You just bet plenty of money on me. If I win it for you, I want just one dance with that pretty lady you had at supper last night. Do you think she’d oblige? If it’s with your approval, no one would think anything of it.”

  Grant looked at him, eyebrows arched. He halted his horse. “All right. One dance, if you win the shooting contests. Just don’t get any ideas, Parker. You’re a handsome young man, but women like Addy Kane need more than good looks. Besides, she’s mine. I intend to make sure of that.”

  Cole caught the intense warning look in the man’s dark eyes. Just don’t try forcing her into something she doesn’t want, he thought. “I get the picture,” he answered. “I just thought a dance with a pretty woman like that would give me more incentive to hit my target.”

  Grant nodded, scanning him with a look that told Cole all he needed to know. Grant Breckenridge had his claws out for Addy, and he intended to have her any way he could, and not necessarily as a wife. He considered her a conquest. Cole had never thought of her that way, and if he could help it, he was not going to let her fall prey to this bastard.

  “Come on,” Grant said then. “Enough talk of women. Let me show you a real vein of gold. I have a little cabin up there with an office in it. I’ll explain how we handle our shipments, when they take place, what you should watch for. We’re having more and more trouble with thieves and outlaws along Clear Creek.”

  He rode on ahead, and Cole just grinned. “Maybe your trouble has just begun,” he muttered.

  Nineteen

  Addy felt like a hypocrite, and she wanted to blame Cole for making her feel this way. Here she was joining a march with other women against prostitution, yet she had slept with a man who was not her husband. Of course she would never sleep with a man for money, but how right was it to sleep with a man out of wedlock, whatever the reason? And she was just as much to blame. She could have said no, but when Cole Parker touched her …

  “Here is your signboard, dear.” Hester Collingswood handed her a sign to carry.

  NO PROSTITUTION IN CENTRAL!, it read. Addy looked around at other signs.

  BRING RESPECT TO CENTRAL!

  PROSTITUTION BREEDS CRIME!

  LAW AND ORDER FOR CENTRAL!

  PROSTITUTION IS AN EMBARRASSMENT TO CENTRAL!

  NO MORE “HURDY GURDY” ON EUREKA STREET!

  LEWD WOMEN ARE A TOOL OF THE DEVIL! There were more, with at least twenty-five women gathered in protest, all dressed primly, collars close around their necks, plain hats worn over plain hairstyles. Addy knew many of these women usually dressed in much fancier dresses and hats, with piles of curls on their heads, bodices cut much lower for dances or other entertaining events. It was natural for a woman to want to look her prettiest, whether for her husband or to attract other men, or sometimes to make other women jealous. She had found herself wanting to look her own best when meeting all these new people, but today they must all look the part of prim and proper and moral women. Again she felt the hypocrisy of it. They felt it was wrong for the prostitutes and dance hall girls to paint their faces and curl their hair and wear colorful dresses designed to tempt a man, but it was all right for a “proper lady” to flaunt her own beauty to catch a man.

  Ethel Brown led the march, raising her sign high and facing the other women, who had gathered high on Eureka Street. They would march down through town, go up Spring Street, around and back down Main Street to Eureka again, stopping in front of the Hard Luck to sing hymns. Although Addy agreed prostitution was a flagrant sin and could not understand how any woman could abide by such a life, she did not feel right about being there. As an independent woman herself, a part of her felt that however a woman chose to make a living, in some cases just to survive, it was her choice; but she suspected that the friendship and support of these women important to her own survival and important to her keeping her teaching job depended on her participation in their meetings and social events, and in particular this march.

  “Ladies!” Ethel Brown announced, “Be prepared to be laughed at by the miners and prostitutes. You will hear lewd talk from the mouths of the prostitutes, probably profanity from the men. You must ignore their remarks. Don’t let them stop you, and don’t let them make you tremble. Be strong, ladies, and know that what we are doing is right with God!”

  A few cheers went up, but Addy could see doubt and fear in the eyes of many. Ethel stepped off. “Follow me, ladies!” She began singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Everyone joined in the hymn, and Addy could see that already the streets were being lined with gawkers, most just ordinary citizens, businessmen, other women with their children, all cheering them on. But as they approached the central business district, where most of the saloons and dance halls were located, the crowd began to change, their looks and words meaner. Soon there were no women among the onlookers except those with painted lips and low-cut dresses and dangling earrings.

  “Hey, honey, you’re pretty enough to come join us!” one shouted. “You’d make a hell of a lot more money than doing whatever you do now!” She laughed loudly, and Addy could not keep her cheeks from growing red. She looked straight ahead, pretending not to hear. A reporter from the Register moved among them now, taking notes. Another stood with camera ready one block below, so that as the marchers came toward him along the steeply descending street, they were above him at an angle where he could get a picture of almost the entire group. Addy saw the puff of smoke from his flash powder and wondered how a widow woman of little significance from a small town in Illinois could have ended up marching against prostitution in a wild mining town in the Rockies of Colorado, let alone the adventures she had had getting here—not to mention a sinful fling with an outlaw!

  The marchers surged ahead, through streets lined with jeering miners and whores, many making dirty jokes, most laughing at them and holding up whiskey bottles, prostitutes hanging on the arms of men. They approached the Hard Luck, and Addy cast a sidelong glance at the swinging doors that led into the den of sin. There stood Cole, silently watching her! Just outside the door stood Sassy Dillon, her outrageously bleached hair swept up into a cascade of curls that graced her slightly plump neck, a neck adorned with diamonds. She wore a feathered pink dress that revealed a great deal of cleavage, and a wildly feathered hat to match.

  The woman pointed at her. “Hey, schoolteacher, how do you like the city of Central so far?” She shrieked in that irritating laugh Addy remembered from the coach ride through Clear Creek Canyon then turned to Cole and said something to him. Addy quickly looked away, feeling like a fool, wondering what Cole must think of her being a part of this. Was he laughing at her, too? What if he had told Sassy about what they had done! Surely Cole wouldn’t be cruel enough to tell the woman about their affair. He had promised. He’d said he had too much respect for her to tell anyone. Was it all a lie? Had he used her like he would use a woman like Sassy? Was he just trying to prove that all women were the same?

  She wanted to run, get away from all of this, but she stood her ground, marched on. They moved through more jeering crowds, back to a safer part of town where regular citizens again supported them, clapping, urging them on, some joining them. The parade wound back toward Eureka Street, and Addy’s heart pounded at the realization they were going to return to the Hard Luck and plant themselves there for hymns. Ethel Brown intended to single out Sassy Dillon and order her out of town. She realized the entire event could get ugly. Ethel Brown was a determined woman who was not afraid to say her piece, but Addy suspected she was no match for Sassy Dillon, whose name certainly fit her mouth. Gradually they returned to the center of Central’s den of sins, their own numbers now increased, several men among them who had decided to come along to protect the “brave women” who were only doing what they felt God meant for them to do.

  But men were men, and Addy felt trouble coming. Ethel came to a halt in front of the Hard Luck, where Sassy stood on the front steps in all her feathered glory. Five other pa
inted women stood on either side of her, hands on their hips, painted faces sneering at them. None of them was especially pretty, and one of them was downright ugly, but Addy supposed if a lonely miner had gone long enough without a woman …

  She moved her gaze past Sassy to the swinging doors. Cole still stood there. He slowly moved out as Ethel Brown announced to Sassy that the majority of the citizens of Central had decided the city must be rid of women of sin like herself who ran gambling and drinking halls and who also practiced prostitution. She went on to say that having women in Central who sold themselves to men for money was a digrace, that Central could never rank among one of the finest cities in Colorado as long as it continued to operate as a wild mining town with no morals and no laws that controlled prostitution.

  “Go march before the City Council!” Sassy sneered. “Let them decide the laws, and let our sheriff enforce them! You won’t get far, fat lady! Half the men on the City Council like to drink and gamble here, and that’s not all they like about my place!”

  Sassy’s gritty cackle filled the air, and the women with her joined in the laughter, as did a hundred or so miners who encircled the protestors.

  “How dare you insult the fine men who run Central!” Ethel returned. “Men like my own husband, and Stuart Collingswood, our schoolteachers, Lee Brown, H. M. Teller, Grant Breckenridge … none of them would stoop so low as to enter your den of sin!”

  Sassy looked at Addy. “Wouldn’t they?” She looked back at Ethel, and Addy wondered if Sassy was trying to tell her something about Grant. “You’d be surprised who sneaks into my room some nights, lady!”

  More laughter filled the air, and Ethel Brown reddened with anger and frustration. Some of the miners moved a little closer, making suggestive remarks. Suddenly a man grabbed Addy’s arm. His breath reeked of whiskey as he jerked her close. “Hey, little lady, you’re prettier than any woman in this whole town! Word is you’re a widow woman to boot! Why don’t you come on inside and have a drink with me? You might find out it’s more fun than teachin’ school!”

  Men nearby laughed as Addy squirmed to get out of the man’s grip. Suddenly someone came between them, a strong arm shoving the drunken miner away. “Leave the lady alone.”

  Addy blinked back tears as she stepped back, realizing it was Cole who had come to her aid.

  “Hell, Cole, she’s the prettiest one. Let’s have some fun with these women.”

  “They have a right to do what they’re doing,” Cole answered. “Leave them alone and they’ll be gone soon.”

  “It ain’t your business what I do,” the miner answered. He took a swing at Cole, who held him off easily, then raised his own fist and slammed it into the man’s jaw.

  Immediately the fight was on. Two more men jumped on Cole, knocking Addy to the ground when they shoved Cole into her. In that brief moment, it seemed the entire street erupted into a brawl. Women were screaming and running, some of the protestors hitting men with their signs. Addy crawled out from under Cole, and he got to his feet and landed big fists into the two men who had attacked him. As Addy stumbled around in the melee, she noticed Sassy Dillon was rolling in the dirt with Ethel Brown! Both women were scratching and clawing. Ethel’s hat was gone, her hair a tumble, a sleeve of her dress ripped. She grabbed at Sassy and pulled at her dress, accidentally pulling one shoulder down and causing one of Sassy’s huge breasts to fall out of the low-cut bodice!

  Men laughed and cheered, and Sassy seemed unaffected by the fact that half the town was seeing her bare breast. She reared up and shoved Ethel Brown hard, causing the woman to fall into a watering trough, then went after Susan Howard, who ran away. Before Addy could see what else happened, someone strong grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and ran with her. She screamed and kicked.

  “Shut up! It’s just me!” Cole told her. He whisked her away from the crowd and into an alley behind some boxes where no one could see them. “Are you crazy, marching into this den of wild men protesting prostitution? You should have known it would lead to trouble!”

  Addy looked up at his bleeding face. He stood there panting, his shirt torn, his thick, dark hair hanging around his face in disarray. Again he had come to her rescue, and again she was struck by his handsomeness. “I had little choice,” she answered, her own breath coming in excited gasps. “They expected me to join them.”

  “You don’t belong with that bunch of stuck-up bitches!”

  Addy stiffened. “Some of them have been very good to me. I need friends, Cole! I’m trying to start a new life here, remember? My job depends on what those women think of me.”

  His dark eyes moved over her. “And what would they think if they knew about me? That’s what you’re thinking.”

  Addy looked away. “Thank you for coming to my aid. I’d better get back out there.” She could still hear screams and the sounds of fighting in the street.

  “Stay away from there for a few minutes, till things quiet down. And while you’re at it, stay away from Grant Breckenridge.”

  Addy looked up at him. “How dare you tell me who I can and cannot see!”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about him. Sassy Dillon knows him well!”

  “Does she? So what? The man has been single for years. She knows you well, too, no doubt!” She could not help the tears that came to her eyes.

  Cole braced his hands on either side of her, pinning her against the side wall of the Hard Luck. “That bother you?”

  Addy dropped her gaze. “No.”

  Cole grasped her chin, forced her to look up at him. “Your eyes tell me different.” He leaned down and met her mouth in a savage kiss, while in the background Addy could hear continued screaming and punching. She thought how Cole Parker fit right in with the wild scrambling going on in the street, had actually started it … over her. The thought of him enjoying a roll in bed with Sassy Dillon brought on an unwelcome jealousy that caused her to return his kiss almost as savagely as he stole one from her. Hadn’t she pleased him more than that woman could? She liked to think she had, and she hated herself for caring.

  Cole released her, then wiped blood from the corner of her mouth with his fingers before wiping the same blood from a cut on his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

  Addy pulled away, telling herself she should be angry. “About the blood? Or about the kiss?” When she looked up at him he was grinning.

  “Just the blood. Then again, why should I apologize? Would you rather I let that man drag you into the saloon?”

  Addy sighed in frustration, rubbing at her eyes a moment. “No, of course not. Thank you for stopping him, but …” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Cole, why did you kiss me just now? Isn’t it supposed to be over? Truly over? Why are you even still in Central? What in God’s name do you want of me?”

  He ran a hand through his thick hair, realizing he had lost his hat back in the street. “I don’t know for sure. I only know I can’t forget you, that I miss you when we’re not together. I can’t bring myself to just leave and let whatever happens to you happen, especially when you’re seeing someone like Grant Breckenridge.”

  “Grant is a bit pious, but he’s kind to me. He is certainly not the kind of man a woman immediately turns away.”

  “But I am?”

  Their eyes held for a moment, both of them wondering what might have been. “No. Not if you were the man you apparently were before the war.”

  He stepped closer. “That man is still inside here somewhere,” he said, putting a fist to his chest. “I just need time to find him again. Give me that time, Addy.”

  She folded her arms in front of her defensively, afraid to let him hold her again. “While you carouse in the Hard Luck and sleep with women like Sassy Dillon?”

  “I’m not sleeping with her. I’m working at the Hard Luck now behind the bar, as well as watching for trouble. If some drunk starts something, I boot him out. Sassy can be a good frien
d at times, but I’m not in her room every night. I live at Jack Sturgin’s boarding house. In a couple of days I start working for Grant Breckenridge, guarding his gold shipments, remember? I’ll be moving to Sam’s Hollow.”

  “Yes. Isn’t it ironic? You, of all people, guarding another man’s gold. Please tell me you aren’t considering running off with some of that gold, never to return.”

  He shook his head. “Those days are over, and I’ll prove it to you. I don’t have much use for Grant Breckenridge, but I have plenty of use for the money he’s going to pay me. I’m going to save it and work part-time for Sassy until I have enough to get into some kind of business of my own, until I’m able to make a decent life for a decent woman … like you.”

  Addy watched his eyes. “Is that some kind of proposal?”

  Cole looked away, but not before Addy caught the lingering doubt and fear in his gaze. “I guess you could call it that.”

  “Are you saying you love me, Cole Parker?”

  He hesitated, then met her eyes. “I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid to love, Addy. That’s all it is. Please just go easy on this thing with Breckenridge and give me some time to get straightened around. I know the man can offer a woman a hundred times more than I’ll ever be able to, but that doesn’t mean much if you can’t trust a man to be true to you, or if he’s got a mean streak in him. Breckenridge can be a bastard when it comes to business dealings, and as far as I’m concerned, that means he can be a bastard in other ways. Take things slow, Addy. Give me some time. If I can get some money saved, gain some respectability, we could gradually begin seeing each other—keep it all respectable and above board. People don’t need to know we already know each other. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger your teaching job.”