September's Dream Page 9

  A voice broke through the hum of sound. It was as biting, as stinging as the lash of a whip. "You have five seconds to let go of the lady," Jase said.

  The authority in his tone sent ice through the veins of the tough men who were watching.

  A silent pall hung over the room.

  "Who’s that?" a thin, young man whispered to a companion.

  "Jason Conroy," came a whispered reply. "He’s a loner. Probably the toughest man in the Yukon."

  September’s eyes rounded as the crowd fell back. The man gripping her arm tightened his hold. His breath, hot against her cheek, reeked of whiskey. It wasn’t just the man’s touch which paralyzed her: it was the click of the gun pressed against her temple. He was crazed with lust and too drunk to be trusted not to kill her if he was pushed too far.

  "Now you’ve got four seconds," Jase said calmly. His gun was still held loosely at his side.

  The miner crouched behind September. "You wouldn’t shoot this pretty little thing now, would you? Just let her go with me. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just show her a little fun."

  Jase never blinked. "You’re wasting time. Three seconds."

  Snake finally pushed free of the crowd and stared at the scene. With his own gun drawn, he felt helpless against the drunken miner. In the man’s fear and confusion, he might even shoot the woman he held as his shield. Snake’s throat went dry. That was his gold mine being held hostage.

  "Just put away your gun, Mister, and let go of the girl, and we’ll let you walk out of here without harm," Snake called.

  The miner glanced at him, then back at Jase. "I ain’t going without her. Besides, I don’t like that one’s eyes. He’s not going to bargain. He’s going to kill me."

  "No one’s going to shoot. Just let the lady go and walk out of here." Snake glanced at the tall man who calmly faced down the drunken fool. He felt the adrenaline begin to pump. If he ever found himself in a shoot-out, he hoped Jase Conroy wasn’t on the other side. He had a reputation for standing his ground, never backing away from a fight, and always winning. One look at his eyes, and Snake knew the miner was right. Jase had no intention of allowing him to walk away with his hostage.

  "Two seconds," Jase said softly.

  The miner glanced around and noted that the crowd had begun to take cover behind tables. His eyes darted left and right, searching for a way out.

  "This is your last chance. Time’s up. Let her go." Jase’s words were spoken so softly, September could hardly hear him above the pounding of her heart.

  "You’ll have to take her," the miner called, aiming his gun.

  Even those close enough to see clearly couldn’t believe what happened next. In the blink of an eye, Jase reached out and caught September, flinging her behind him for protection. At the same time he brought his gun up and fired one shot. The drunken miner fired at the same moment. All heads swiveled from one to the other. Jase continued standing, shielding September’s body with his own. The miner dropped to the floor, spilling blood from a fatal wound near the heart. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

  Snake Rawlins didn’t even have time to take aim.

  He stared open-mouthed at the figure writhing on the floor of his saloon.

  Turning, Jase put a protective arm around September and led her toward the back room. As the crowd behind them erupted into a babble of excited voices, he closed the door and led her to a chair.

  Her face was ashen. Her hands began to tremble, then her entire body shook uncontrollably. Finding her shawl, he wrapped it around her shoulders. His hands halted their movement as he felt the violent tremors which shook her. For one long moment he thought about taking her in his arms until the shaking stopped. Then, thinking better of it, he reached for a bottle on the table. Filling a tumbler, he handed it to her.

  "Here. Drink this."

  Through a haze of confusion, she looked up at him. The helplessness in her eyes tormented him. To cover his feelings, he said gruffly, "All of it."

  She drained the glass, feeling the whiskey burn a fiery trail all the way down her throat and clear to her stomach. Tears burned her eyes. Shocked, she sucked in great gulps of air.

  "What is that?"

  He seemed surprised by her question. "Whiskey. Haven’t you ever tasted it before?"

  She shook her head.

  For some odd reason, her innocent question reassured him.

  "Feeling all right?" He touched her arm and felt a shocking sexual jolt. Staring down into her eyes, he wondered if she felt it too.

  She licked her lips, wondering if she could speak while his hand was touching her. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, his touch didn’t repel her as the touch of other men did. She could feel the warmth of his touch clear through the sleeve of her dress. Her skin felt vibrant, tingling with life.

  "I don’t know. Numb, I guess. I—"

  Snake burst into the room. Seeing Jase’s hand on her arm, his smile faded.

  "Acting Deputy Marshal Charles Whiteside is here. He’ll want a statement."

  Jase snorted in disgust. "In a minute. Since Acting Deputy Marshal Charles Whiteside is on your payroll, I’m sure he’ll write down anything you tell him. First, I want to be sure the lady’s all right."

  "I’ll see to her. She’s my responsibility."

  Jase stiffened. He had forgotten for a moment that she was one of Rawlins’ women. His voice hardened. "Then you haven’t been taking care of—your responsibility. What damned fool man would put her on display for the entire town to lust after, then turn her loose in that drunken crowd without a bodyguard?"

  Snake’s eyes narrowed at the verbal thrashing. His nostrils flared. "It’s none of your concern. I said I’ll see to her."

  The two men squared off, each taking the measure of the other, their hands clenched firmly at their sides.

  Frightened at the controlled fury she could sense in each of them, September stepped between them and turned to Jase. "I’m fine now. Really."

  Just the sound of her voice sent icy needles through his veins. He stared down into those incredible wide eyes, feeling as if he were drowning in liquid sapphires. Being this close to her left him weak.

  "Right." He took a step backward, still watching her face. "Good night." With a nod, he turned and stalked from the room.

  For long moments, while Snake watched her closely, September studied the closed door, unaware of the revealing look on her face.

  "Come on," Snake said abruptly. "I’ll walk you home."

  "No." September drew the shawl tightly about her shoulders. "I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow."

  "Sure you don’t need company?"

  "I’m sure."

  The last thing she wanted was Snake Rawlins’ company. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. As she hurried along the moonlit path to the boardinghouse, she stopped and let out a sigh of dismay. Turning, she stared at the gaudy outline of the saloon. She had forgotten to thank the stranger. And she still didn’t know his name.

  * * *

  Each night the crowds grew, until by the end of the week Snake had to knock out the wall of the back room to add more tables. While he was at it, he added something new around the stage.

  Still sewing costumes for the other girls, September ambled into the saloon one afternoon during the remodeling.

  With dresses folded over her arm, she paused. "What’s that?"

  Snake looked up from directing the workmen. "Boxes."

  "I don’t understand."

  "Miners who want to pay for the best seats in the house can sit in these special boxes."

  "Won’t they cut down on space?"

  Snake nodded, with an evil smile splitting his face. "Yes, but I’ve knocked out the wall over there to make up for the space lost up here."

  She turned. The back room was gone.

  "Why would anyone want to pay money just to sit up here?"

  He shook his head at her ignorance. "They won’t just be sitting up here alone. My girls will keep t
hem company."

  She was beginning to understand.

  Snake turned as the bartender began setting bottles on the bar.

  "Careful with that champagne. It’s going to make us a fortune. See that all of it is chilled and ready by tonight."

  September’s lips thinned. Rawlins’ women and lots of champagne. Those poor miners wouldn’t know what hit them until they got the bill.

  She started to walk toward the stairs to deliver the gowns to the women’s rooms. On the first stair she turned. "Where will I go to wait between shows now?"

  Snake’s smile sent a chill along her spine. "Guess you’ll have to use one of the rooms upstairs. Mine’s always available."

  Without a word she turned her back on him and climbed the stairs. Below her, Snake watched the way her hips swayed and reminded himself to be patient.

  * * *

  September could no longer haul herself out of bed in the mornings to bake the pies. Each night she arrived home later than the night before, until she found herself working through most of the night. She often slept until noon, then worked on her mending until it was time to get ready to entertain at the saloon.

  "Billy. How would you like to learn how to bake?" she asked him one afternoon.

  "That’s women’s work. I didn’t come to Alaska to bake pies."

  She smiled softly at the dour expression on his face. "No, you came to get rich. Just like the rest of us. There’s good money to be made from blueberry pies. You’ve seen how the miners love them. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to afford your own room until you can go to the Yukon?"

  His frown disappeared. "My own room? You think I can earn that much?"

  She caught his hand. "I know you can. Come on. I’ll show you how."

  Patiently, she taught him how to make the pie crust, roll out the dough, and fill it with berries before placing it in the oven. His first three pies were sorry-looking things, but she knew the miners were more interested in taste than looks. By the time Billy made his fourth and fifth pies, he was getting better.

  When Aggie entered the kitchen, September said, "You’re looking at your new partner, Aggie. Billy just went into the pie business."

  Aggie shook her head and went back to her chores. For so many years now she’d lived alone and liked it. Most of her roomers lasted no more than a few days. Ever since September Malloy had walked through the door, everything had changed. She found herself listening to September and Billy’s silly chatter and thinking they were a lot like the children she’d never had. There’d been plenty of men in Aggie’s life, but no one permanent. Marriage and babies were for all the others. Aggie liked her independence. She looked up at a burst of laughter from the kitchen. Those two were slowly taking over her life. And for the life of her she couldn’t think of a single thing wrong with that.

  * * *

  It was the day before payday. September could hardly wait. Helping Billy load the wagon with buckets of food and tins of blueberry pies, she added the shirts, pants, and jackets she had mended for miners, to be delivered along the way.

  At a makeshift tent, she dropped off two dollars’ worth of sewing. At a small wooden grain store, she deposited two shirts and two pair of men’s pants, collecting four more dollars.

  She made nearly a dozen stops before the clothes were all parceled out.

  Billy’s eyes grew round as she pocketed the money. "I think maybe you’re going to be the richest lady in Skagway, September."

  "I will be when I find my father," she said evenly. "In another week I should have enough money to buy the gear I need and hire onto a pack train. When we come back sitting on piles of gold, I’ll hire you to guard it."

  Getting caught up in her dream, he laughed. "And I’ll buy my ma the prettiest dress in the world. It’ll be red velvet, with little white buttons all the way up to here, and down each sleeve."

  Recognizing her trademark, she grinned. "I believe I’ve seen one or two like that."

  He turned an earnest expression to her. "I’ve never seen anyone look so beautiful as you in that dress, September. You look like one of those princesses in Ma’s books."

  They rounded the corner of a building. "Oh, Billy. You—" She stopped.

  A man raised a tree branch as big around as his leg and brought it crashing down on a dog lying in the dirt.

  "Stop that." Rushing forward, September caught his arm. "Stop. Don’t hit him again."

  Flinging her away, the man raised his arms again and sent a crushing blow to the whimpering mass at his feet.

  Blood oozed from the dog’s side and mingled with the dirt to form a muddy red pool.

  "Oh, Billy. Help me. Help me stop him." September rushed at the man, dragging on his uplifted arm.

  Dropping the handles of the cart, Billy joined her. The two of them could barely restrain the cursing man.

  "You two kids stay out of this. It’s between me and him."

  "No. Can’t you see he’s helpless? You’ll kill him if you hit him again."

  "He’s too damn mean to die. That’s the meanest dog I’ve ever had. And by God I’m going to keep beating him until he’s learned his lesson."

  As he lifted the club over his head, September frantically reached into her pocket and withdrew the money.

  "Wait. I’ll give you everything I have to buy this dog."

  The man stared at the bills in her hand. "Are you crazy? This dog is vicious. He’ll just turn on you the same way he turned on me."

  She thrust the bills into his hand. "I don’t care. I can’t stand to see him bleeding and helpless. Take the money and give me the dog." She glanced at the bloody form of the animal. "Or what’s left of him."

  The man counted out the bills, his eyes glittering with greed. "Take him. I got the best of the bargain. But I’m warning you. If he ever comes near me again, I’ll kill him."

  Kneeling in the dirt, September ran a hand gently over the dog’s flank. He flinched, but made no sound.

  Billy stood over her. "What are you going to do with him now?"

  She thought a moment. "Go unload the food at the grub tent. Then bring the cart back here. I’ll haul him home, then see that the cart is back at the grub tent in time for you to load everything for the return trip."

  He lifted the handles of the wagon. "I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with him when you get him home. Aggie will throw a fit if she sees this mess."

  "Don’t worry about Aggie." September lifted the dog’s head and cradled it in her lap. It’s tongue lolled to one side, his eyes half shut. "Just hurry and get that cart back here."

  As Billy left, she brushed the sand from the dog’s face and crooned softly to him. "Don’t you worry, old thing. Nobody’s ever going to lay a hand on you again. And that’s a promise."

  The dog weighed more than September. When Billy returned with the wagon, it took both of them, sweating and straining, to load the barely conscious animal.

  Billy gave her a skeptical look. "I got to get back to the grub tent. Think you can manage this by yourself?"

  "Don’t worry. I’m stronger than I look," she said, with more enthusiasm than she really felt.

  It took her over an hour to maneuver the heavy burden over the deep ruts in the sand. Slipping around to the back of the boardinghouse, she opened the door to her room, spread a blanket in the corner, then, coaxing and shoving, finally managed to settle the big husky into an exhausted heap on the floor of her room.

  With a bucket and rag, she washed his wounds carefully and applied disinfectant. Though he whimpered whenever she touched an especially tender spot and flinched as his open wounds were cleaned, he was too badly injured to do more.

  When he was completely cleaned of all the blood and dirt caked in his fur, September sat back on her heels to admire his coloring. In the dappled sunlight streaming through the open door, lush blacks and browns glinted among patches of purest white. Like all dogs of his breed, the fur was thick and velvet to the touch.

  He o
pened his eyes to study his surroundings. She let out a gasp of pleasure. His eyes were a strange blue-gray.

  His eyes closed. His breathing was shallow.

  Satisfied that she had done all she could, she set a dish of water beside him and hurried out to return the cart to the grub tent.

  When she returned to get ready for her job that night, the dog was sleeping restlessly.

  At a soft tap on her door, she hurried across the room to peer through a crack. Relieved to see Billy, she moved aside to let him in.

  "I was afraid it was Aggie."

  "She’s sitting in the parlor with a couple of the roomers." He glanced down at the bundle of fur in the corner. "How’s the dog?"

  She shook her head. "He hasn’t moved since I brought him in."

  Billy sat down and ran a hand along the thick fur of the dog’s neck. "You’re one lucky dog, you know that. Getting rescued by the prettiest lady in Skagway, and even getting to share her room."

  "Billy."

  He looked up in surprise, then ducked his head. "Yes sir. You’re one lucky dog."

  A smile spread across September’s face. "That’s what I’ll call him. Lucky." Walking toward the door, she turned. "Will you look in on him before you go to sleep, Billy?"

  He gave the dog a final pat, then stood and walked with her out the door. "Sure thing, September. Only I sure hope he doesn’t bark."

  As she walked toward the saloon, she thought about Billy’s words. She fervently prayed that Lucky wouldn’t bark or cause any commotion. If Aggie found him, they would both be out on their ear.

  Aggie had patiently put up with a lot since September moved in. But she was pretty certain a vicious, wounded dog would snap the tenuous bond they had formed.

  September hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Maybe this time her impulsive nature was going to get her in more trouble than she could handle. What if the dog attacked her while she slept?

  She shook off the vague feelings of unease. She’d really had no choice. There was no way she could allow that man to kill the dog. Her heart lurched. It had looked so helpless, so beaten. She thought of the day she arrived at Skagway, feeling alone and desperate.