Midnight Lover

by Barbara Bretton

  "I'll tell you what the uproar is," said Margaret McGuigan from the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. "We just seen our futures swept right out from under us by those woman-hating, filthy drunkards, that's what."

  Caroline swept into the parlour and found herself staring down into the eyes of a baker's-dozen spinsters who looked as if their hopes had shattered like wedding china tumbling from a mantel. There were the four McGuigan girls, the two Wilder sisters, and seven other young women who were crying loud enough to be heard back in Boston.

  "Would somebody please explain what on earth is going on?"

  Sarah Wilder dabbed at her eyes with the edge of a cotton kerchief and sniffed audibly. "Margaret told you the whole thing in a nutshell. Those—those monsters came right into Aunt Sally's and upended the tables and before we knew it we were out on the street with our stomachs empty and our pocketbooks lighter."

  "That's unconscionable," said Caroline, pacing the length of the room. "How dare they deprive you of services already paid for."

  Sarah's sister, Jenny, turned away from the window and met Caroline's eyes. "I think you're missin' the point, Caroline, if you don't mind me sayin' so. It ain't the meal that's upsetting us."

  Caroline stopped and faced Jenny. "If it's not the meal, then what is it?"

  "The League," said Jenny.

  "League?" Caroline turned toward Abby whose freckled face was impassive. "What League?"

  "The Single Men's Protective League."

  "And what, pray tell, is the Single Men's Protective League?"

  "They got themselves a big money wager," said Margaret while the others nodded. "Ain't a one of 'em going to marry before year's end or pay the piper for the privilege."

  Caroline forced a laugh. "Very amusing, ladies, but this is not the time for humor."

  "Ain't nothin' humorous about it," said Margaret, "not if you're lookin' to set up housekeeping one day with a husband and a family to call your own."

  How foreign those notions were to Caroline but how very real the girl's distress. "Since when do single men find it necessary to form a league to proclaim their bachelorhood?" She rested a hand atop Sarah Wilder's shiny red hair and winked at Margaret McGuigan. "Surely someone is pulling your leg."

  To her surprise, Sarah shook off her hand and looked up with huge, tear-stained blue eyes. "Too many weddings, they said, and they're drawin' the line on 'em now." Caroline started to protest but the girl hushed her with a fierce scowl. "We heard them with our very own ears, just as plain as the nose on your face."

  "How absurd," said Caroline, biting back a smile at the confusing picture the girl's words painted. "Times are changing. Only a fool wouldn't recognize the coming of progress. The day is coming when men will live by their wits and not their Winchesters."

  "Ain't progress they're afraid of," Jenny Wilder piped up. "It's marriage."

  Caroline started to laugh. "And they find it necessary to band together in order to protect their lack of will power?"

  "They want us out of town, that's what," cried Margaret, "and you're the reason."

  "But I'm probably the only woman in town who isn't looking for a husband."

  "Don't matter none," said Margaret. "They said they ain't going to let no Eastern woman come in and take over one of their saloons and if Jesse Reardon won't do nothin' about it, they'd take matters into their own hands."

  "And take away our chances for matrimony," said Sarah Wilder. "They cancelled the dances and the socials and they said there'd be no more courtin' only trips to—" She gestured toward the Golden Dragon across the street and the volume of sobbing increased twofold.

  Caroline moved toward Abby. Motioning toward the cluster of sobbing spinsters on the divan in the corner of the parlor, she whispered, "And who, may I ask, are those girls?"

  "Sue Ellen Watson and her sister Emma, the Dennehy girls, and Lulu Olsen and her cousin Annabelle. Threw them out of the boarding house, they did," offered Abby, her voice high with righteous indignation. "The curs tossed their hats and furbelows out the windows and used their petticoats to rub down their horses!"

  "My tr-trousseau," sobbed the prettiest of the group on the divan. "I was going to wear my satin petticoat with the pink ribbons on my we-wedding day and now it's ruined, all filthy and sweaty from some terrible horse."

  Caroline's eyes narrowed as rage once again took hold inside her breast. "Ladies, answer me honestly: did you do anything to antagonize the men?" God knew, the men of Silver Spur were a lawless group and it wouldn't take much to turn them into an angry mob.

  "Mindin' their own business, they were," said Abby, bristling. "'Is it a crime to want a hot meal to help you get through the day?"

  Sarah Wilder blew her nose then looked sorrowfully at Caroline. "Ain't the hot meal that's the problem," she said. "It's us being here at all. They want us to leave town."

  "Absurd," said Caroline. "This is a free country. You can stay anywhere you like."

  "Not in Silver Spur," sniffed Margaret McGuigan. "Now that they've closed up The Last Stop and the boarding house, there ain't no place a decent woman can rest herself."

  "Rubbish!" Caroline snapped her fingers. "You girls are strong and healthy. What on earth do you need with a group of pathetic old prospectors? Seems to me you could do much better."

  Next to her, Abby cleared her throat. "They wouldn't all be old prospectors, miss, if you don't mind me sayin' so. Sam Markham is a—"

  "I know who Sam Markham is," Caroline interrupted. "I will not have you consorting with the bartender of the King of Hearts Saloon." That was all she needed, to be seen giving aid and comfort to the enemy camp.

  Abby's hazel eyes glittered with defiance. "Slavery's over, miss."

  Where on earth had Caroline heard those very words before? Ah, yes—the infamous day she arrived in Silver Spur and Jesse Reardon stabbed her with his knife-sharp observations. The other girls were watching Caroline and Abby intently.

  "We'll speak about this later," Caroline said, turning back to the others. "Right now I think we should put a stop to this nonsense once and for all." Turning, she headed toward the door.

  Jenny Wilder's voice stopped Caroline in her tracks. "Fine for you to talk so high and mighty about it; you ain't lookin' for a husband. You got a roof over your head and your own things about you already."

  "And so do you," Caroline protested. "Each and every one of you has a home here at the Arrow if she wants it." God only knew, that fifty dollars she'd tucked away in the desk drawer a few minutes ago would serve them well for a time.

  Margaret McGuigan lifted her chin. "My sisters and me ain't reduced to taking charity, thank you."

  "I am not in any position to offer charity, Margaret, no matter how dearly I wish I were. What I am suggesting is an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial." She turned toward her original boarders. "What would you say to having some paying customers at the Crazy Arrow? Customers who will pay to stay here and have us take care of them. I could even offer you a salary."

  They looked at her, wide-eyed.

  "This is just the beginning," she said, growing excited at the prospect. "Word spreads like wildfire in this town; it won't be long before our rooms are filled with girls looking for a safe and clean place to live while they carve a place for themselves out west."

  "We'd pay what we was payin' at the boarding house," volunteered one of the new girls. "Even kick in our meal money if you can provide food."

  Abby nodded at Caroline. "Between us, we could be keepin' the wolf from the door."

  "Ain't nothin' wrong with this place a little more elbow grease wouldn't cure," said Jenny Wilder knowingly. "Look what we done already."

  "We'd be forever in your debt, Miz Caroline," said the oldest of the Dennehy girls perched upon the divan. "Streets aren't safe after dark for an unmarried woman."

  "That's true enough," said Caroline, "but I wonder why you aren't incensed that these men have taken your home from you and tossed your bel
ongings onto the street? Does it not infuriate you to be treated as if you are nothing but stray cats to be kicked out when the master comes home?"

  "Don't do no good gettin' mad," said Margaret McGuigan with an eloquent shrug, "because we don't want no enemies. Meanin' no disrespect, but we ain't like you, Caroline. We're lookin' to find us husbands and have us some babies; livin' alone in a saloon ain't want brought us west."

  "This is my home now," Caroline said, her voice rising with passion. "My father died over this godforsaken place. It's all I have to my name and I will be damned to hell for all eternity if I allowed Jesse Reardon to take what I own."

  "Seems to me these men be used to takin' whatever they want," observed Abby. "If the League can throw these poor girls out of the boarding house, seems to me they could do just about anything at all."

  "This is my property and nobody is going to take it from me and I have a mind to march over to the King of Hearts and tell them so."

  "There'd be an awful lot of them, Miss Caroline," said Abby, "all full of whiskey and gunpowder. I wouldn't be thinkin' it's a good idea to beard the lion in his own den."

  "No poorly-educated cowboy is going to take what's mine." She turned to the other girls who were watching her, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do, ladies, sit here sobbing into your hankies over their foolish notions on bachelorhood and marriage? Where is your backbone? Your spunk?" She paced the room, fueled by righteous indignation. "Have you come west to sit like china dolls, waiting for a man to set you on his mantelpiece or will you grab opportunity by the boot straps and prove to those benighted ruffians that you are willing to wait until real men come to town?"

  Jenny Wilder swallowed hard and rose to her feet. "I say we wait until real men come to town!" She looked down at her sister. "Are you with me, Sarah?"

  Sarah's cheeks flushed a bright red to match her hair. "I'm with you," she said, standing up. "I didn't come this far to turn around with my tail tucked between my legs."

  Margaret McGuigan and her three sisters joined them and Caroline held her breath as the Dennehys, Watsons, and Olsens whispered among themselves.

  "Your one chance for independence," Caroline said, shamelessly stacking the deck in her own favor. "Who else in town offers you good food, good company, and good clean beds for a reasonable price?"

  One by one the spinsters rose to their feet. "We're with you," said Lulu Olsen, "though, saints alive, I don't reckon I understand exactly why."

  Caroline squeezed the girl's hand. "You will," she said, heart racing with excitement. "I promise you, you will."

  Abby made a rude sound of displeasure. "And when you understand it," muttered the young maid, "be sure and explain it to me."

  "Now come on," said Caroline, heading toward the door. "Let's go to the King of Hearts and tell those men that their precious Single Men's Protective League will find no problem with us. They can take their bachelorhood and clutch it to their bosoms because we intend to hold out for something better."

  What that something better was, she didn't know, and she prayed she'd come up with an answer by the time the girls got around to asking.

  Chapter 11

  Jesse puffed on his cigar later that evening as he strode through the crowd crammed into the basement of the Golden Dragon. Had to hand it to Sam for being right. Markham had come round to his suite on the third floor and said the League was holding an emergency meeting and Jesse should come down pronto if he was smart.

  "Ain't seen so many men in here since Jade ran her two-fer-one sale last winter," he said to his bartender who was following right behind him.

  Sam corralled them two chairs near the side door. "They was smilin' last winter. Don't see too many smiles 'round here tonight."

  Jesse had to admit that was true enough. He also had to admit that most of the ugly looks were aimed in his direction.

  "Somebody die since dinnertime?" he asked the room in general.

  "Only everything any decent man holds sacred," Big Red Morgan bellowed from the back of the basement. "First they came to town marryin' up every prospector they could lay their lily-white hands on. Then they took over the Crazy Arrow but I'm here to tell you those she-cats have gone too far when they show up at the King of Hearts!"

  Jesse glared across the crowd at Morgan. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

  The red-faced man spat a stream of tobacco juice into a brass cuspidor. "While Jade was upstairs entertainin' you, that damn Easterner's daughter busted into the saloon with a whole passel of old maids right behind her."

  A laugh rumbled through Jesse's chest. "Didn't hear a damn thing. Gotta hand it to Jade: when she entertains a man, he ain't payin' much attention to anything else."

  "You ain't listenin' real careful, Jesse," Big Red said. "Ain't the Golden Dragon they busted in on."

  A weird sensation crept up Jesse's spine. "Worst thing I ever seen in all my born days," said Three Toe Taylor. "Gals swarmin' like honeybees all over the King of Hearts."

  Jesse's right hand hovered over his gun. "If you're stringing a whizzer on me, you'll live to regret it."

  Taylor didn't back down an inch. "Shoot me full of holes if you want, but I ain't lyin'. Ask any man here and he'll tell you the same thing. Stormed right into the playin' parlor and burned our ears."

  "Gal's got a real mean tongue," said Big Red Morgan. "Feel sorry for any man she hooks herself up with."

  "You lost yourself some ground today, Jesse," said Three Toe with a challenging look. "First you let that gal lay claim to the Crazy Arrow and now she's bustin' into the King of Hearts, actin' like she owns the town."

  Rage boiled through Jesse's gut; he wanted to wrap his fingers around Caroline Bennett's elegant throat and strangle her for this damn fool stunt. If she was trying to make him the laughingstock of Silver Spur, she was halfway there.

  "Pay her no mind," he said, casually lighting a cigar as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Old maids tend to act real strange sometimes."

  Three Toe Taylor took a step toward Jesse. "We think it's you who's actin' strange, Reardon."

  "You're on mighty dangerous territory. I'd be real careful what I say, if I were you."

  "Look at you, Jesse," Big Red Morgan broke in. "You don't pull your share with the League. You didn't open the Rayburn mine like you said you was gonna do. You let the Crazy Arrow stay shuttered up then you hand it over to a woman who's aimin' to turn it into a sewing circle. Hell, maybe you ain't one of us anymore and it's about time we found that out."

  "All this because some man-hungry filly breaks up a poker game? Sad, fellas," he said with a shake of his head. "Real sad."

  "She don't want a man," said Big Red. "None of 'em want a man anymore. That's what they came by to tell us."

  "Then what in hell's so all-fired wrong? The League won." He headed toward the door. "Come on back to the King of Hearts to celebrate, gentlemen. The whiskey's on the house."

  Nobody moved. Not even his own bartender.

  "I don't think you heard me: the whiskey's on the house."

  Nothing. The only sound in the huge basement was the sound of his heart beating fast in anger.

  "It ain't enough," said Sam Markham for Jesse's ears alone. "They want more out of you than free tonsil varnish."

  Sam was right but Jesse hadn't wanted to see it. The town was changing all around them and they were looking to Jesse to be the rock they clung to. Silver Spur might seem lawless and wild to an outsider, but an unspoken bond held it together and that bond was Jesse Reardon. And what nobody in that room knew was that Jesse Reardon needed them just as much as they needed him.

  He turned and headed for the door.

  "Where you goin', Jesse?" Big Red yelled out. "What the hell are you up to?"

  "Business," said Jesse, tossing his cigar into a cuspidor and listening to it hiss. "I got me some business that needs tendin' bad."

  * * *

  Caroline's raid upon the King of Hearts Saloon had been a resounding success. Ho
w she'd enjoyed the looks of shocked horror on the faces of the men as she'd led the girls into their secret gaming room and told them in no uncertain terms that their Single Men's Protective League was now unnecessary, for the unmarried women of Silver Spur were happy to stay that way—at least for the time being.

  Her only regret was that Jesse Reardon himself wasn't there to witness her triumph as she led her loyal supporters out of the smoke-filled saloon and back to the safety and tranquility of her very own Crazy Arrow.

  Assigning bedrooms, finding linens, and tending to the tears of the Crazy Arrow's newest residents lasted until quite late and Caroline was exhausted by the time she said goodnight to Abby and climbed into her feather bed. How marvelous it felt to do nothing but breathe in and breathe out, to hear nothing but the slow and steady pounding of her own heart, to let her weary muscles sink into the mattress as she closed her eyes and welcomed sweet oblivion.

  She was hovering on the edge of sleep when she heard the sound of wood splintering from somewhere downstairs. Abby, she thought sleepily as she buried her face more deeply into her pillow. It was only Abby stumbling over the collection of trunks and hat boxes that had accompanied their new arrivals.

  Once again she drifted toward sleep and once again a thunderous noise made her sit bolt upright in her bed, hand pressed tight over her galloping heart. Dear Lord, it sounded as if an army were marching through the hallway. If this was what being a hotelier entailed, she would have to consider a pair of earmuffs.

  "Son of a bitch!" Her bedroom door swung open and banged against the wall. Jesse Reardon, tall and lean and angry, strode into her room. "Where the hell's the lights? A body could break a leg in this damned place."

  Caroline grabbed for the quilt and clutched it to her bosom. "How dare you march into my bedroom. I'll have you arrested!"

  Reardon ignored her and strode toward the bed. "Get up."

  "I will not!"

  "Now, Car-o-line," he growled.

  "Never," she said, her voice an odd mix of both fear and fury. "This is my house and you have no dominion over me here, Mr. Reardon."