Cadence

by Charlene Raddon

  Cady finished scrubbing the dining room floor and moved into the parlor. She had to be done before customers began to arrive. Her knees throbbed. She stood up to give them some relief and noticed Thumbs—Sam—half-asleep in a chair.

  She set down her bucket with a clunk, and he awoke.

  "Cady! I mean, Miss Biggler."

  "Hello, Sam. You may call me Cady. Are you all right?" He didn't look ill, but she couldn't imagine why else he'd allow himself to fall asleep on the job.

  Standing, his eyes searched the room. "Was I dozin'? Boss'll toss my can down the outhouse hole if'n he catches me doing that."

  "Well, he didn't catch you." She dropped to her knees and resumed scrubbing. "I did."

  "You won't tell, will you, miss?"

  Would this be a good time to twist his arm and get him to tell her what he knew about Regina's whereabouts? No, she'd already tried that and failed. "Why would I do that? I might like you better if you helped me get my sister back, but I understand why you can't. I have no desire to see you hurt."

  "Thanks, Miss Biggler. That's mighty kind of you."

  She frowned, and he added, "I mean, Cady."

  Smiling, she resumed scrubbing. Sam fell quiet for a while. "Seems like you're always washing this floor."

  "Every other day, per Mortimer's orders." She wished she could give the rat the calluses on her knee caps and hands. "Why are you out here? Usually, you and Lach are in his office."

  "He's in the kitchen, watching the back door while I guard the front."

  She sat on her heels, frowning. "Guard against what?"

  He shuffled his feet, scratched his head and shrugged. "He doesn't want no men coming and bothering you, miss. Or you leaving without permission."

  She narrowed her eyes as the situation became clear. "Men bothering me? You mean Mr. Brant? Mortimer told you to keep him away?"

  Sam shrugged his broad shoulders again, like a young boy caught filching an apple. "I'm sorry, miss. I wouldn't cause you pain for nothing."

  "Never mind." She dunked the brush in the bucket and returned to work. "Why don't you find a book to read from one of the bookshelves in here if you're bored? It might keep you awake."

  "Wouldn't do no good. I never learned how."

  She straightened, leaving the brush on the floor in a puddle of soapy water. "Never learned how to read?"

  "That's right. Pa kept me out of school to help with chores at home. I didn't have no brothers, only six sisters, and he needed me."

  "Oh, Sam, what a sad story." She had but one sister, who Mortimer kept from her. Was Sam able to visit his sisters whenever he wanted? If she taught Sam to read, he might be grateful enough to go against his employer and help her.

  "It ain't no story. It's true," he insisted.

  Cady believed him. It broke her heart to see this man embarrassed and shamefaced for something he couldn't help. "I'll tell you what. I'll teach you to read. Would you like that?"

  He grinned. "You'd do that?"

  "I said I would, didn't I? Meet me here at three o'clock, and we'll begin lessons."

  He sobered. "You got a kind heart, Miss Cady. I am going to guard you, but not just to keep others away. I'll guard you from Mr. Crane. Sometimes, I don't like the way he looks at you."

  "Don't let him hear you say that." She stood and hugged him. "Thank you. Now, I must finish this floor."

  "I'd darn well help you, if'n I dared."

  "But you can't. I understand, Sam. Go find a book with pictures in it in the reading room and see if you can guess what the print underneath them says. Usually they're describing what's in the picture."

  "All right. I'll do that. Sounds fun."

  He wandered off to gaze at the bookshelves, and Cady put more vigor into her work, so she'd have time for his lesson later.

  Sam wasn't stupid or empty-headed, merely uneducated. No one had ever bothered to teach him. Cady would do her best to make up for that. But she suspected it would be wise to avoid letting Mortimer see them.

  Mortimer cursed as he read the telegram the Wells-Fargo boy had delivered. His presence was needed in Cranesville due to labor disputes. What the blue devil? Was there no end to his problems?

  He threw the yellow paper across the desk and leaned his brow on his fists. A headache niggled at the back of his head.

  He'd come to hate traveling back and forth between towns. With the Gold King I gone, he had little connection to Wildcat Ridge, nothing a manager couldn't handle. Yet, thanks to the miners threatening to quit unless they got more money, he had no choice but to depart for Cranesville on Monday, two days away.

  And leave Cady behind once more.

  "Lach!" he yelled.

  The young man appeared within seconds. "Yes, sir?"

  "Go to the mercantile and buy the best piece of jewelry they have and tell Franco to put it in Cady's room."

  "A necklace, sir, or—?"

  "I don't care what as long as it's elegant and looks expensive." He waved for Lach to leave then added, "Oh. I'll be returning to Cranesville on Tuesday. When I get back, I'll expect a report on what my employees got up to."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And find some way to get rid of Garrick Brant."

  "It will be my pleasure, Mr. Crane." Lach closed the door on his way out.

  Satisfied, Mortimer sat down and studied Cady's photograph. If jewelry didn't win her over, he'd have to think of something else, but what woman could resist pretties?

  He had to find a way to convince her to let him set her up in Cranesville. He could buy her a house. He'd never wanted a woman the way he did her.

  Oh, he'd wanted his wife Ophelia with a desperation he thought would kill him. As a young man, he'd had a much looser grip on his self-control and thought he had to have everything he wanted instantly.

  Ophelia had been so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Wasn't a man in Creede, Colorado who didn't lust after her. What hurt most was the fact that they could have her whenever they wanted, for a measly buck-fifty. Having to share her drove him insane. So he'd married her and brought her to Utah Territory.

  She'd retained her beauty. Not even bearing their two children had marred her figure. How old was she now? He was eighteen when he married her. She'd been sixteen. He was thirty-six now, meaning she must be thirty-four.

  Whenever he took her anywhere, men's heads still turned. In truth, Ophelia outdid Cady in the beauty department.

  Why did he want the girl so badly? He could be honest enough to admit to himself that part of it was because, so far, he hadn't been able to have her.

  Time to end that. He stood up and banged a fist on the desk top. Time to take what he had a right to, regardless of how she felt. The girl was only being stubborn.

  Could he force her? The thought didn't sit well. Other women maybe. Cady, he wasn't so sure. Many of the men he associated with wouldn't hesitate to force themselves on a woman. Sex was what they were for, after all. That and housekeeping. Mortimer resisted the idea that he might not be as much a man as they were.

  No, he was as much a man as them. Confound it. She belonged to him. He'd spent good money paying her hotel bill in Evanston after her lover ran off. She'd given herself to that young buck. She must have. She could damned well do the same for the man who'd rescued her and her brat of a sister. To hell with trying to win her over.

  Friday was a good night at the Gentlemen Only Salon. Plenty of people coming and going. Plenty of noise. No one would hear if Cady put up a fuss.

  He would have her tonight, by hell, or his name wasn't Mortimer Holloway Crane.

  Cady listened at the door to make sure Leda didn't have a customer inside before she opened the door. After six on a Friday night, she never knew when the doves might be busy.

  The girl sat on the bed pulling on stockings, preparing for the evening. "Have you seen Mae, Leda?"

  "I did at supper. She seemed tense. Something bothering her?"

  "I'm not sure. I'll check with Alma."
<
br />   Again, she listened before opening the door. "Alma, I can't find Mae. You know where she might be?"

  "No." She dabbed more kohl on her eyelashes.

  "Okay. Thanks."

  Cady was halfway out the door when Alma added, "She did say something odd as we were leaving the table. I think she might've been talking to herself."

  "What did she say?"

  "Something like, 'I'll do it tonight. I'll go.' That's all. Don't you think it strange? Where could she be going tonight? She can't leave. She has to work like the rest of us."

  "Heaven above," Cady muttered and ran from the room.

  After grabbing a coat, she went down to the kitchen. Henri stood at the stove filling the air with delicious aromas. Franco sat at the table, head bent over the housekeeping ledgers he kept for Mortimer, while Sam munched on Henri's fried apples and toyed with a child's tiny top, spinning it around and around. Where he'd come up with a toy in this place, she had no idea. It appeared vastly out of place in his sausage-like fingers.

  Their lesson that afternoon had gone well, except for Lach catching them. He'd threatened to get Mortimer if they didn't tell him what they were doing. Once she'd explained, Lach's attitude changed. Next thing she knew, she'd promised to teach him too.

  Sam glanced up and frowned. "Miss? You ain't planning on going out tonight, are you?"

  "I have an urgent errand to run, Sam. Please don't try to stop me."

  He stood. "I got to, Miss Cady."

  "Please, look the other way," she pleaded. "You too, Franco. I must go. Mae is missing, and I think I know where to find her."

  Franco surged to his feet. "Missing? What do you mean?"

  "I mean I couldn't find her anywhere in this entire building. I even checked Mortimer's office."

  Franco's face lost color. "Are you sure? Perhaps she's in the necessary."

  "I searched every nook and cranny," Cady told him.

  "Hell," Franco murmured, and surged up off his chair. "If something's happened to her… I'll find her. I must."

  "You stay put," Sam said, standing. "This is my job."

  "Better if you stay and protect the salon." Franco went to the boot room and came back with his coat. "Where were you going, Cady? You said you thought you might know where to find her."

  "There's a stage due in soon. You're coming with me?"

  "No, you stay here, maybe in her room. That way you'll know she's back the second she steps inside. Look for clues to where she might be going."

  He went out the door.

  Turning to Sam, Cady said, "How am I supposed to keep Mortimer from finding out? Put on her working clothes and pretend to be her except with dark hair instead of blond?"

  Sam ignored her sarcasm. "That's a dang good idea. Lock yourself in her room and say you're ill if he comes to check on her. Disguise your voice, so you sound hoarse or something."

  Sam paced the floor, looking worried. "I don't think Franco will hurt her. He damned well better not."

  "He won't. He's sweet on her. She's been acting strangely. Staying in her room. Refusing to go to town with us. She hasn't been eating either. Maybe she is sick."

  "Sick in the head, pulling a trick like this. Best get up to her room, Miss Cady. Want me to go with you?"

  "No. I'll be fine." She hurried up the stairs stopping at each girl's room to warn them of the situation and secure their promises not to give them away.

  "She's been extra moody lately," Alma said. "I bet she's been planning this for a while."

  Cady couldn't imagine that. She felt certain Mae would have confided in her unless it had been a last-minute decision. Perhaps she thought she'd be protecting everyone from Mortimer's wrath by keeping them in the dark.

  Cady locked herself into Mae's room with some mending and dropped down on the bed to wait.

  "It's his property, Mr. Brant," the marshal said, as Deputy Bowles handed Garrick a cup of coffee. "I can't arrest Mortimer for having a man kicked out of his own place."

  "But can he hold a woman against her will?" Garrick set the cup on the desk and stayed leaning forward in his seat, his nerves gnawing at his guts. "Cady doesn't want to be there. And for all I know, he may have my sister too."

  "What makes you think that?" Cordelia Bowles asked.

  "I could swear, before they shoved me out that door, I caught a glimpse of July." Frustrated, he stalked over to gaze out the window.

  Dusk had settled over the town, and the streets were almost empty, most folks at home eating supper. Garrick wanted to help Cady. That lecher, Crane, had her in a trap she didn't know how to escape. She feared the man, and Garrick couldn't blame her. A real piece of snake dung was Mortimer Crane. Did he have July caught in the same trap?

  "What are you going to do, Garrick?" Aubrey asked. "Don't go off halfcocked and get yourself killed."

  "I'm going to the salon and pretend to be a customer."

  Aubrey and Cordelia exchanged worried looks. "What do you expect to accomplish doing that? They aren't likely to let you in. You might find yourself in over your head."

  Garrick paused at the door. "I have to find out if I'm right."

  "A man hungering for the sight of a loved one's likely to see her on the faces of any number of other people," Aubrey said.

  Garrick acknowledged that truth with a nod. "I'm aware that it might be my imagination, but I must know. I've only seen two of the girls. The third one, Mae, could be July. I need to get a look at her."

  Aubrey spit on his thumb and rubbed a spot on his boot resting on his knee. "Cordelia, why don't you go talk to Cady? Might be you can find out something they don't want to tell Garrick. Emotions can distort a person's view of things."

  "You may have a point." Garrick rubbed his jaw.

  "Sure, I'll go right now." She grabbed her coat and eased him away from the door.

  Chapter Eight

  "Cady?" Franco called.

  What was he doing? The fool knew she was hiding in Mae's room to prevent Mortimer from learning the girl was missing. He could give everything away.

  "What are you doing here?" she whispered through a barely cracked door.

  "Open up. The deputy wants to see you."

  "Why?" She widened the opening. "I haven't done anything wrong. It's after eight o'clock. Why would she come right when we're getting busy?"

  "I don't know." His voice showed impatience. No doubt worried about Mae. "Look, I was supposed to put this in your room. It's from Mortimer. I'll send Cordelia in. She wants to ask you some questions."

  Cady glanced at the box he'd handed her. "I can't talk to her here. I'm supposed to be Mae."

  "She won't know which room yours is and which is Mae's."

  That was true. "All right. Send her up. Hurry."

  This visit couldn't come at a less convenient time. What if Mortimer came looking for her or Mae while the deputy was here? How would she explain? This visitation could ruin everything.

  The expected knock came, and she answered it, hoping she'd cleared her face of all emotion.

  "Deputy, come in."

  "Hello, Cady. How are you?"

  The deputy wore her usual split-skirt, man's shirt, neck scarf, and gun belt. Her hair hung down her back in a braid. Cady admired the woman for being brave enough to do what she wanted with her life, dressing as she wanted and having the skill to defend herself. Every woman could benefit from acquiring knowledge of how to protect herself. Maybe she'd ask Cordelia if she would give her and the girls lessons.

  "Tired. Hard day." She yawned, hoping to speed up Cordelia's departure. "Have I broken some law?"

  "Not that I'm aware of. May I come in?"

  Cady nodded and gestured to a chair, closed and locked the door then sat on the side of the bed.

  The deputy sat down, her gaze surveying the room. Cady looked too, realizing how it must appear to the lawman. She probably wondered why the maid's room would be in the middle of those allotted to soiled doves and why it looked like it belonged to a dove wi
th its frilly curtains and the suggestive painting on the wall of a pair of naked lovers.

  "We have a concerned citizen whose asked me to check on you," the deputy said.

  Blinking, Cady stood and put her hands to her chest. "Me? Who would be concerned about me?"

  "Mr. Garrick Brant. Seems he visited to give you something and was immediately thrown out. I think he's worried he may have gotten you into trouble."

  "Oh." Relief surged through Cady. "Yes, Mortimer doesn't like me receiving company. I don't know why. He also seems to have a special dislike for Mr. Brant."

  Cordelia placed her right boot on her left knee. "Did he hurt you?"

  "Hurt me?" Cady unconsciously put her hand to her cheek where Mortimer had slapped her on another occasion. "No, he didn't hurt me."

  Cordelia's brows lowered. "Has he ever?"

  "He slapped me once. For sassing him, he said."

  "What is he, your adopted father?" Cordelia's boot hit the floor and she straightened in her seat. "The man has no right to touch you that way. You want to press charges?"

  "No." Good heavens no. That would be a disaster. Mortimer would move Regina somewhere far away for sure. "He simply lost his temper."

  "A temper lost that easily can be lost again."

  Cady averted her gaze. What could she say? Cordelia was right. "He's my employer. I need this job."

  "That doesn't give him the right to strike you." Cordelia leaned closer, her forearms on her knees. "Cady, why do you stay here? I'm sure he isn't paying you much. Why put up with him? Is it true he's keeping you here by hiding your sister from you? Garrick Brant isn't the only one worried about your welfare."

  "That's sweet, Cordelia. I suppose Garrick told you about Regina. It's true, Mortimer has put her with a family somewhere and won't tell me where, but so long as the situation remains the same, I can't leave. I must learn where my sister is. She's only five."