by Lori Wick
“Are you going to be looking for work?” Maureen’s grown son, Percy, had lived off her income for years, so she did not take for granted that Sean would look for work.
“Not here. I don’t like the weather.” Sean said the first thing that came to mind, not wanting to admit that San Francisco was too close to Santa Rosa.
Maureen nearly panicked over his words. It never once occurred to her that he was just stopping off on his way through; in fact, she had a faint hope that he had come here because this was where his father’s ship would be docking.
“Aren’t you worried about missing your father’s visit?”
Her question was met with a cold stare, and Maureen, so surprised at how far off her guesses had been, subsided into silence. Not many minutes passed before Sean took himself off to bed. In the hours before she went to bed herself, Maureen had a one-sided conversation with her absent brother. She told him in no uncertain terms that he should have come home ages ago, that letters had not been enough, and that his family needed him.
Maureen was utterly drained by the time she retired. Knowing how hard it would be to get to sleep, she tried to put her worries aside by telling herself that Sean might be more congenial in the morning. This was her last thought as sleep crowded in to claim her, but her hope was not to be realized. In the morning, Sean Donovan was gone.
three
Sean had lied about not liking San Francisco’s cool temperatures in order to get away, but as he bent over another row of cotton in the hot Fresno sun, he found himself wishing he’d stayed a little longer. Never had he lived and worked in such high temperatures. Most of the other workers around him were shorter and for the first time, Sean envied them their small size. He had been picking crops for two weeks, and his back was still screaming at him.
He paused to wipe the sweat from his face and saw the very pregnant woman working next to him bending over the row with difficulty. She lost her balance, and Sean reached for her, taking her arm until she was once again steady on her feet. The smile she gave him was tired and sweet, and Sean hurriedly bent his head.
The sight of her and that fatigued smile caused him to think of Kaitlin just months before he left, and then of Molly just an infant when his stage left town. Sean suddenly felt like his emotions would choke him.
You’ve left, Sean, he said to himself, and by now, they don’t want you back. Even if they did, you don’t want to go. Convinced of this, he pushed the sight of Gretchen and Molly from his mind. They were the last things he needed to be dwelling on right now.
“I wonder if Father made it home,” Sean muttered to himself, bringing his anger to a head as he again bent his back.
Routine began to develop, and by the time Sean had been on the job for two months, he had made a few friends. Most of his co-workers were family men, but a few were single, and these were the men who took their pay to the bar as soon as it was placed in their hands.
Sean had never been in a bar, but he found the one in Fresno to be a place where he fit in. He never drank enough to become drunk, but the way he was left alone to sit in peace with his friends was just what he needed, or so he told himself. It was on one of these occasions that his co-workers told him he was in the wrong business.
“What are you talking about?” Sean frowned at them. He had been something of a mystery to them, but one night they’d coaxed his age out of him and realized he was just a kid with a chip on his shoulder. They grinned in his direction as they answered.
“Do you think we would be out picking crops if we were your size? Look at that guy at the end of the bar. You’re bigger than he is, yet you’re out there sweating in the sun with us.”
“And probably getting paid a whole lot less for your effort,” another man contributed, and the group roared with laughter. Sean didn’t laugh; he was already moving down the long counter toward the end of the bar.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender spoke without preamble.
“A job,” Sean flicked his head in the direction of the strong-arm. “Any chance you’re thinking of a change?”
The bartender was quick on the upswing, his eyes taking in the breadth of Sean’s chest. He only smiled and shook his head no.
“I like Bear. He’s not very bright, but he’s reliable.” Sean frowned and the man went on. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, though. My brother owns a place in Selma, bigger than this, with a stage and girls and all. How old are you?”
“Old enough,” was Sean’s answer, and the smaller man behind the counter didn’t press him.
“I’m sure you’ll do. Head south a bit, downtown Selma. The place is called Buck’s. Ask for either Buck, that’s my brother, or his partner, Sal. They’ll do right by you.”
Sean’s co-workers were ecstatic when he relayed the conversation, and for once Sean’s face was not void of expression. He stayed long in the bar that night, laughing and talking with his friends in a kind of farewell celebration. Leaving just a few hours before dawn to return to the shabbiest hotel in town, he packed his few things and lay on the bed waiting for the sun to rise. When it did, Sean was up, shaved, and waiting for the stage that would yet again take him south.
Four months later Sean, now eighteen years old and dressed in immaculate dark slacks, a snow white shirt, and dark tie, kept his eyes on his boss’s profile. The men at the corner table were quickly growing out of hand, and Sean knew that any moment he would be called in. A woman came by, heavily made up, and seductively ran her hand across Sean’s chest. As usual, he barely took notice of her.
Buck’s head turned a moment later, and Sean went into action. He was only one of three bouncers in this posh establishment, and their movements were never to be hurried or ungainly. With natural grace Sean and one other man moved toward the rear. And with far less noise or action than one would have dreamed possible, the two troublemakers were extracted from the game and shown into the alley.
The show started moments later. Sean stood at one corner of the stage, his eyes constantly scanning the room for trouble. Tonight’s crowd was raucous, but no one was out of control. At closing Sean made his way upstairs to his room with only the faintest feeling of dissatisfaction. He realized as he climbed into bed that he’d been spoiling for more of a fight. The men they’d taken into the alley had gone much too willingly.
He lay in the beautiful room he called his own and listened to the hotel bar grow quiet. Someone knocked on his door, but Sean didn’t answer. It would only be one of the girls, asking if he’d changed his mind about joining her in her room. The answer was always no, and Sean had started ignoring the questions altogether.
They believed he thought himself too good for them, but that wasn’t the case. In truth, Sean wasn’t sure what held him back. He never hesitated to gamble or drink in the worldly environment in which he lived. His hesitance might have had to do with the fact that every time he was tempted, he saw his mother’s face. She died when he was 14, but he could still hear her voice telling him when he was just 12 that saving himself for marriage must be a priority. “You’ll never regret it, Sean, but if you don’t wait, I can make you no such promise.”
As usual, Sean didn’t care for the direction of his own thoughts. Determined to sleep, he rolled to his side, shifting his thoughts to the stage downstairs with its heavy gold curtain and velvet trim. The name “Buck’s” had given Sean an image of a rough-and-tumble bar, but Buck’s was more than a bar; it was a hotel, and a classy one at that.
Sean fell asleep telling himself that for the past three years he had been working too hard. This was the life he was meant to lead. This was where he belonged.
“I’m telling you, I don’t like him,” Sal told his partner.
“He’s a good worker,” Buck reasoned.
“He’s too sure of himself,” Sal went on. “I don’t trust him.”
Buck only sighed. He liked Sean Donovan, but Sal had never been comfortable with their new bouncer. Sal had wanted to fire him on several occasions when there was reall
y no reason, but Buck had always forestalled him. Sean was the first strong-arm they hadn’t had to teach to use a fork. Sean had class. Where he came from, and how he came to be working in a bar, Buck didn’t care. All he knew was that Sean worked hard and made the place look good with his broad build, black curly hair, and dark compelling eyes. He didn’t smile much, but he was always polite to the patrons, and Buck’s clientele was his main concern.
“He stays,” Buck said with finality. Sal, knowing he was needed on the floor, let the matter drop. He hoped though, that something would happen to give him a reason to sack Sean Donovan, one that not even Buck could dispute.
Two months later, Sean was once again in the mood for trouble. These feelings did not come on very often, but when thoughts of his past plagued him, he felt mean. On this particular day, he had thought of nothing but Marcail. She would be 13 by now and, with her dark hair and large expressive eyes, probably leading the boys on a merry chase.
“Rigg better be taking care of her,” Sean said into the mirror as he tied his tie. He suddenly shook his head. All of this because one of the new show girls had smiled at him, a smile so sweet and young that Sean had been stunned. Marcail’s face had immediately swum into view, invading his thoughts to a ridiculous degree so that by the time he went on duty, his temper was at its worst.
Early in the evening, a fight broke out. It seemed completely routine to all involved, but in his present mood, Sean was a bit too rough. Before anyone could guess what was about to happen, the man Sean had by the arm, threw a punch, and missed. Sean, trained to ignore such things, flattened the man. Within seconds several tables full of men were in a fight, and before a minute had passed, half the place was in an uproar.
Sal was thrilled with everything but the damage. Buck could see it was a losing battle this time: Sean would have to go. What neither Buck nor Sal understood at first was that it would have happened anyway. The first man Sean hit had been the sheriff’s brother. Within the space of 12 hours, Sean was on yet another stage headed out of town.
four
Sean had not liked the look of the livery owner from the day they met, but he’d given him work and at the time that was all he wanted. The repairs at Buck’s had nearly cleaned him out, and Sean knew that his money was not going to last long.
Sean came to Tulare thinking to find more work in a bar, but the owner of the place he tried had not been interested. It went against Sean’s grain to be doing manual labor once again, but the future need for food and lodging had been at the back of his mind, and he had relented. That had been over two weeks ago, and Sean had yet to see a dime of his earnings.
In truth Sean enjoyed livery work, but he was still angry over the way he’d been treated at Buck’s, and wouldn’t have admitted this to anyone. Right now he was down to his last few coins and decided that today he would collect his pay. He dropped what he was doing, a sudden premonition coming on him, and went right then to seek out his boss.
“Get back to work.” The obese, bald man spoke from a chair by the door.
“When do I get paid?”
“You haven’t worked here long enough.”
“I’ve been here two weeks,” Sean’s voice dropped to a dangerous note, but the fat man took no notice.
The big man laughed. “Come back when it’s been a month.”
“I’ll take my pay now.”
The man only laughed harder, now looking at Sean’s flushed face. “You’re a fool,” the man chortled. “It wouldn’t matter when you came, I don’t have the money. The wife takes every dime.” The man found this highly amusing and laughed as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
Sean was furious. He started toward the man, intending to beat the money out of him, but a gun appeared in the livery owner’s hand. Sean kept coming. It took a moment for the fat man to see that this time his scheme was not going to work. He scrambled to his feet, fear making him clumsy. Sean had the man backed into a stall when a voice interrupted him.
“Is there some problem?”
The voice stopped Sean’s movement, but he didn’t turn to see the man standing just inside the door.
“We’re closed,” Sean barked over one shoulder.
“Put the gun down, Pinky.” The voice spoke again, not at all intimidated by Sean’s anger. “Have you been cheating someone again, Pinky?”
This time the voice captured Sean’s attention. He turned to find a small man dressed in a well-cut suit regarding him with an almost gentle smile. At the same time, the fat man, now behind Sean, began to babble.
“It’s not my fault, Hartley. You know what she’s like. I should send this guy over there and let him beat it out of her.” The man sounded on the verge of tears, and Sean’s face showed his disgust.
Without a word to either man, he strode to the back, picked up his jacket, and went out the door. In his anger it took some minutes for him to realize that someone was calling his name. He stopped and turned. Once again the small man, Hartley had been his name, was smiling at him and approaching with bold confidence.
“I’m sorry about what happened in there. Pinky is a disreputable worm, but compared to his wife he’s an angel.”
Sean had stayed silent through this recital, and Hartley spoke as though he’d suddenly remembered his manners.
“Where is my head,” he said when he saw no answering smile in the younger man’s eyes. “I’m Hartley. Pinky told me your name is Sean.”
Sean stared for a moment at the offered hand but finally gave his own. “Sean Donovan.”
He turned in the direction of his lodgings, and Hartley, with practiced ease, fell in step beside him.
“I’m not sure what your plans are for the rest of the day, Sean, but if you haven’t a previous engagement, I’d like to take you to supper.”
“Why?” Sean answered, stopping again and scrutinizing Hartley with eyes hard as flint.
“I have a business proposition for you.”
Sean weighed this carefully, trying to gauge the man’s honesty. His first thought was that the man was not the least bit honest, but there was something fascinating about him, and in a moment Sean found himself agreeing.
In an hour he had cleaned up and was walking through the door of the best hotel in town. Sean and Hartley were shown to a table as though they were royalty, and after Hartley ordered for them, he turned to Sean, again sporting that gentle smile.
“I will admit to you straight away, Sean, that I sought you out because of your size. You see, I’m in need of a personal bodyguard, and I think you might be the man.”
Sean was quiet, and Hartley was relieved that he didn’t ask what became of his last one. Hartley knew it would do nothing for his position if he had to admit that his last “bodyguard” died while they’d been robbing a bank. He was quite certain that Sean would eventually join him in his robberies, but now was not the time to go into that.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in finance,” Hartley told him smoothly. “There are times when I’m required to carry large sums of cash. I’m certain that having a man of presence with me will deter even the most persistent pursuers. Tell me, Sean, can you fire a gun?”
“No.” Sean hated to answer because he suddenly wanted this job. This man, the way he was dressed, and the way he carried himself reminded him of Buck’s, and Sean missed the class and excitement of that place.
“Well, no matter,” Hartley assured him. “I can teach you.”
Long before the meal ended, Sean’s head was swimming with all that Hartley promised. For the last several weeks it seemed his luck had been bad, but now as he crossed the street with Hartley to a fancy bar, not as a worker but as a patron, Sean believed his luck had finally turned around.
A sudden noise outside the door had Sean on his feet. Listening intently, he reached silently for his gun and made his way out to the living room. Not having bothered to dress, he eased the door open to the hall, but found the passageway outside their
suite of rooms empty. He closed the door again, and went back to bed, telling himself he was taking his job too seriously.
It had been six weeks now since he had met Hartley, and never had he lived in such luxury. A niggling irritation that he wasn’t doing much to earn his keep popped up in the back of his mind, but Sean effectively pushed it away. He now knew what Hartley was, and had to force himself to push that thought away as well.
He had always hated stealing, and even though he’d been well on the way to getting drunk, Hartley’s news about being a professional thief had come very close to sobering him. That had been just two weeks ago, and Sean could see now how very carefully he’d been maneuvered. At first he’d been furious, but Hartley was as smooth as they came, and Sean had never lived as he was living now.
Meals were delivered, beds were made, his clothes, finer than those at Buck’s, were always kept washed and pressed—he had everything but the red carpet. It didn’t even seem to matter that Sean was a bodyguard and not the man with the money; he was treated like a king.
The job had very few drawbacks—none at all, if Sean could keep his conscience silenced. It wasn’t the easiest thing when Hartley would get roaring drunk and pass out, leaving Sean to put him to bed. And it was harder still when Hartley brought girls up to his room, only to have them wait until Hartley was asleep before they paid a visit to Sean. He never let them stay, but there were times when he wondered why.
Sean convinced himself that on the whole, it was a good life. It even included travel. Hartley had informed him just the day before that they would be leaving Tulare today. He hadn’t said exactly where they were going, and almost before Sean could question him, he found himself on horseback, following his employer out of town.
The weeks to follow were spent in a dusty haze. Gone were the fancy hotel rooms and room service.
When Sean finally questioned his employer, Hartley responded, “It’s time to go back to work.”
