Cera's Place (8 page)

*****

When Jake sauntered back into the saloon, Ginger rushed over to him. “What happened? What did Biggs say? Are you crazy, Jake?”

“Hush now, Ginger. Let the man be.” Cera’s eyes locked on Jake. For a brief moment, all the questions she wanted to ask perched on the tip of her tongue, before she swallowed them away. She walked to the bar and poured a shot of whiskey. Turning toward her customers, she lifted the glass in a toast and slammed the shot. “Drinks on the house!” she called out and the crowd answered with cheers.

On Cera’s cue, drinks were served and gambling resumed. Within seconds, laughter and boisterous voices mixed with the jaunty tune Isaac spun out on the piano. As far as the customers were concerned, the confrontation with Biggs never happened.

Jake came over to her and motioned to the room with one hand. “You handled that well.”

She let out a long breath. “Thanks, but you didn’t need to get involved.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I would have handled it. I
was
handling it just fine.” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

“I see, and that’s the way you like it, huh? Handling everything on your own?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I gave you my thanks. Now excuse me, I have work to do. Please enjoy the rest of your night.” She brushed past him and headed for the gaming tables.

After the last customer left, Jake still sat in the corner. Tapping her foot, she considered throwing him out, but shook her head instead. “Go back to wherever you came from, Mr. Tanner.”

From across the room, his eyes challenged her. “No, not until you talk to me.”

“My, you are an obstinate man.” She nodded at his full whiskey. “What’s the matter, my alcohol’s not good enough for you?”

He took a small sip and grinned. “Can’t taste any poison. Guess I don’t like to drink alone.”

Grabbing a glass and a bottle from the bar, she gave in and walked over to his table. “If I have a drink with you, will you leave?”

“Eventually.”

After Cera poured the whiskey, they toasted each other. She took a long sip and her shoulders dropped a few degrees.

“So why does that thug you threw out of your saloon tonight want you dead?” Jake asked.

She flinched at his words. “Did he say that?”

“In so many words. He also advised me to stay clear of you if I wanted to live.”

“That’s good advice,” she admitted, pointing her glass at him. “You should take it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but it would be easier to help if you told me what is going on.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she reminded him.

“So you’re going to fight this man by yourself? What about Sadie and the others? Are you able to protect them? Seems to me the more help you have, the better chance you have of getting rid of this vermin.”

Frowning, she stood up. “I need to finish closing the saloon. You need to go.”

“Wait,” Jake demanded, grabbing her wrist.

She eyed his hand coldly. “Mr. Tanner, out of appreciation for what you did for Sadie, I have allowed you more latitude than I normally do when it comes to the antics of my customers—but I suggest you let go of me.”

He released her wrist and raised his hands. “I’m sorry. Finish your drink at least.”

Sitting back down, she observed, “You know, for a Yankee, you’re pretty good at that surrendering gesture.”

Jake shrugged. “Sometimes, it comes in handy to give in a little. You should try it.”

She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. “Sorry, but being weak doesn’t set well with me.”

“Is that how you see it? Giving in is a weakness?”

She didn’t bother to respond.

“The way I see it,” he continued, “giving in is just another means to an end. There’s more than one way to get what you want.” His eyes twinkled as he held up his glass again in a toasting gesture.

She hesitated, but then clinked his drink, watching him over her glass as they drank the rest of their whiskey.

“Do you like to dance?”

Caught off guard, Cera replied easily, “Well, yes, I guess as much as the next person.”

Jake stood up and took her hand. “Let’s dance.”

“Don’t be foolish. There’s no music. Isaac’s gone for the night.”

“As good as a piano player as he is, we don’t need him.” He pulled her up and began humming a waltz.

Surprised, she let him take her in his arms and guide her around the saloon. When he paused in his humming she asked, “That’s a beautiful melody. What is it?”

“It’s by Johann Strauss. My mother loved music and dancing.”

“She taught you well. You are a wonderful dancer.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them.

His eyebrows shot up. “Why, was that a compliment?”

Trying to save face, she gave an exasperated sigh. “No, Mr. Tanner, just stating a fact. Most of the men I’ve had the pleasure to dance with had a bottle of whiskey or two in them. It wasn’t always a graceful sight.”

Jake laughed, spun her around, and pulled her back close. “You know, the waltz was considered scandalous when it first was danced. People objected to the men and women touching so intimately.”

“You don’t say?” She focused on a point over his shoulder, avoiding his eyes, which were turning the shade of midnight. “Well, perhaps we’d better stop. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to stop?”

Confused by his warm breath on her cheek, she didn’t trust her voice to answer. Every nerve in her body was strung tight and ready to break. Cupping the back of her head, he moved his lips over her jaw. When her body began to yield, his mouth found hers and demanded more. He pulled her hips against his, and she lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed the length of her neck before releasing her. “Like I said earlier, I like you in my arms.”

Closing her eyes tight against his words, she shook her head.

Jake’s face reflected his disappointment. “That’s all right. I can do this dance a while longer.” He pressed his lips to hers one last time.

After he was gone, she sat down, resting her head on her arms. For the second time that day, the tears came pouring out.

*****

Biggs’ bodyguards leaned against the storefront, hiding in the shadows. Quinn took out a cigar and ran it under his nose, inhaling loudly. Digging in his pocket, he found a match and struck it on the heel of his boot.

Lewis smacked his shoulder. “Put that out, you idiot. You want someone to see us?”

“Shit, leave me be. No one’s paying us no mind. I’m just trying to pass the time.” Quinn kicked the brick wall a few times. “Where the hell is this guy anyway? The saloon closed half an hour ago.”

“Who knows, maybe he’s playing with the bitch. There’s nothing we can do about it—unless you want to tell the boss man you got tired of waiting.”

“Hell, I ain’t that crazy. I just wish he’d hurry up and come already.” Quinn laughed at his own joke. “Get it? Come already?”

Lewis grunted in reply and hunkered farther down into his coat.

Quinn cleared his nose and spat the phlegm on the sidewalk. Taking the tip of his boot, he smeared it back and forth on the dusty wooden planks. “Dammit all to hell! How long are we gonna have to stand here?”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.” He nodded at a lone figure in the distance. “There he is now.”

*****

As he walked back to his boarding room, Jake hummed a lighthearted tune that a private used to play on his pipe during the war. The cheerful notes fit his mood as he thought of Cera. She had sparked something inside him and he was grateful for the chance to feel alive again. Now, if only she’d cooperate.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been so lost in thought, he would have noticed the two men following him. Half a block from the boarding house, they made their move. Jake threw a few hard punches before Lewis pinned his arms behind his back. The grunting of the men echoed in the deserted street as Quinn hit him repeatedly in the ribs and face.

Struggling to break free, Jake yelled for help when the front door of the boarding house opened. The owner, George Talbot, shuffled out onto the porch, herding a mangy cat with his cane. Alarmed at the commotion, the owner shouted back, “Hey! Leave that man alone or I’ll call the police!”

Lewis pushed Jake to the ground, kicking him in the stomach before running off with his cohort.

Hurrying as much as his crooked legs would allow, when the old man reached Jake’s prone body, he asked, “Are you all right, Mr. Tanner?”

Groaning, Jake rolled onto his side and spat the blood out of his mouth. “God, I hate a dirty fight. Can you help me to my room, George?”

Holding him under the arms, the old man boosted him up. With Jake wincing at each step, they went into the boarding house and climbed the stairs to his room.

“Do you want me to call a doctor?” George asked, lowering Jake onto his bed.

“No, I’m all right. I’ll be fine in a minute,” he panted. When the ceiling spun above him, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to stop. “I need…” was the last thing he said before blackness fell over him.

*****

When he opened his eyes, Jake couldn’t remember where he was. Since this wasn’t the first time, he didn’t panic—but then he heard voices nearby. He listened for a moment, trying to decipher the murmuring. With a grunt, he pushed himself up until pain seared his sides.

“Whoa, now, hold on there, soldier. Don’t be undoing my handiwork.” A hand held him down. “Good to see you awake, but you need to stay still. What’s your name, son?”

“Jake. Jake Tanner.” He tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but his mouth was as dry as a desert.

“Excellent, nice to meet you, Mr. Tanner, I’m Doc Goldman. I have a few more questions before you can go back to sleep. I need to know if the beating you took caused any damage to your noggin. What year is it?”

“1869. May I have some water?”

“Of course.” The doctor lifted Jake’s shoulders and held a glass to his lips. When Jake drank greedily, he cautioned, “Slow down, now. You don’t want to vomit. Do you know where you are?”

He finished the water and looked around the room. “San Francisco. Mae’s Boarding House. Room 25. How long have I been out?”

“It’s almost ten o’clock in the morning. George here fetched me late last night after he helped you upstairs, and it’s a good thing he did. You have some mighty fine bruises all over your body. You don’t have a concussion, but I would strongly recommend you stay in bed for the next several days. The more you rest, the quicker you will heal.” The doctor stared at Jake’s swollen face. “Do you know who did this? Were they after your money?”

“No.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. “I think they were trying to send me a message.”

“So you do know who did this?” the doctor asked. “Then we need to tell the police immediately.”

Jake shook his head, though it cost him another shot of pain. “No. You can’t do that. It will make it worse for her.”

“Worse? For who? You were nearly beaten to death. These men need to be caught.”

“Oh, they will be, Doc, but not by the authorities.” He dismissed the doctor with a wave of his hand. “I appreciate your help, but you can go now. Leave the bill. I’m good for it.”

As he gathered his supplies, the doctor glanced toward George and frowned. “Keep checking on him. If he gets worse, come get me straight away.”

When the door clicked behind them, Jake rolled over and fell into a fitful sleep filled with cannon fire and screams of dying men.

Chapter 6

Cera finally had a plan. Over their morning coffee, she tried to convince Isaac it would work. “If the Chinese community isn’t going to talk, then we need to catch Biggs red-handed. He’s bound to kidnap more girls soon, so we follow him.”

Isaac choked on the swig of coffee he was about to swallow. “What are you going to do when he does? Are you gonna say ‘Biggs! Put that girl down. I’m taking you to jail!’ And he complies? Why it’s so simple, I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before.”

“Well, there’s no need to be sarcastic,” she snapped back, failing to keep her Irish temper in check. “And no, I don’t expect him to cooperate.”

“Oh, so you’re going to tote your shotgun around? That’s an even better plan. You’ll get everybody killed that way, Cera.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing! Last night proves we won’t be safe until Biggs is stopped. It’s either him or us, and I’d rather it was him.”

“I would too, but the fact is, we need a plan with a bit more—finesse.” Isaac drew circles in the air with his hands. “Something that doesn’t involve guns and dead bodies.”

“I don’t see any way around that,” she replied stubbornly. “The man is a rabid animal and deserves to be treated like one.”

“You have no argument from me there. But whatever we do, it has to be within the law with no one getting hurt. Otherwise, we’re no better than Biggs.”

Cera sighed and patted Isaac’s hand. “I know you’re right.” Noticing the dark shadows under his eyes, she asked, “Is anything else wrong? You seem a bit out of sorts.”