Bound For Eden (13 page)

‘One drink won't hurt the boy,' Joseph laughed. ‘We all started some time.'

They stood by the side of the dance floor, drinking and watching the lively swirl.

‘She's really not spoken for, your sister?' Henry asked in disbelief.

Alex shook her head and took a gulp of the bitter amber liquid. She had a feeling this was going to be a long journey if she had to watch these men mooning over her sister the whole way. She took a peek at Luke. He was watching Victoria too.

The gray, she decided: if she could, she would wear the dove-gray dress. It matched her eyes and made her skin look paler. She imagined it was
her
Luke was watching on the floor, being twirled about by some other man. Would he be jealous?

But she
couldn't
, she thought morosely, taking another long sip. She couldn't wash her face and dress up in her lovely gray dress. Because of the Gradys. She couldn't risk having them see her.

By the time she finished the ale, Alex was feeling warm and loose-limbed. Rebellious, she bought the next round, and made short work of another ale. Luke shook his head at her and left to dance with Victoria again. Alex couldn't watch any more. The whole night had taken on a nightmarish cast – the music seemed loud and discordant, the lanterns garish, and everywhere she looked she saw the gay flash of yellow skirts.

‘I'm going to feed Junior,' she told Adam abruptly, stalking up to where he was dancing.

Her brother looked back and forth between her and the dance floor, torn. He was having a fine old time, but the thought of missing out on seeing the horse was torture. ‘I'll come too,' he decided, although he couldn't help looking back over his shoulder as they left. ‘Aren't we going to tell Victoria where we're going?'

‘We'll be back before she misses us,' Alex said shortly.

The town was silent and dark as they walked to Dolly's. Everybody was at the dance. Even the whorehouse was quiet when they got there. The piano was still, and there were just a bunch of bored whores sitting around the saloon with a few heavy drinkers.

As soon as they got there Alex had an impulse to find Dolly. She was the only one who'd understand the way Alex was feeling. ‘You feed the horse, alright, Adam? I'll be back in a minute.'

Adam didn't mind. He was in his element in the stable, whispering to Junior and the oxen. ‘Can I give him a brush, Alex?'

‘Sure,' she said. ‘I reckon he'd like that.'

When she left he was fossicking through the shelves, looking for the brushes. Alex made for the back door, and was halfway across the kitchen when Dolly came sailing in, resplendent in green satin. ‘Oh, I wouldn't go in there,' she said, catching Alex by the arm and spinning her about.

‘I was looking for you.'

‘Well, you don't want to go in there. Have a look.' Dolly pulled the door open a crack and Alex peered through. All the Gradys were at a table in the corner, playing cards.

‘Who's winning?' Alex asked dryly.

‘The skinny one, who else? He's smarter than the rest of them put together. All I can say is thank heavens they're big drinkers, because they sure aren't spending money on any of my girls.'

‘Why not?'

Dolly shrugged. ‘They'll be upstairs by the end of the night, but that runty one is worried they'll fall asleep and get charged for the whole night.'

‘Sounds like Gideon.'

‘What are you doing here?' Dolly demanded. ‘Why aren't you at that dance?' She pulled a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses down from the cupboard. Alex had never seen a woman drink whiskey before. But then, she remembered, she'd never seen a woman drink ale either and she'd had two tonight.

Even so, she refused the whiskey.

‘I wish I could go to the dance,' Dolly sighed. ‘All dressed up and flirting with those big handsome men. I saw Luke on his way there.' She gave Alex a sly look. ‘He was looking pretty fine tonight, wasn't he?'

Alex's nod was sour.

‘I'm sure Beatrice would love to be there with him,' Dolly observed. ‘I bet he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her.' Dolly laughed when she saw how close to the mark she'd hit.

‘Don't tease,' Alex said miserably.

‘Aw, darlin', it's no fun being young and pretty and having to hide your light under a bushel. I don't see why you don't say to hell with it for tonight and just head out there as Beatrice.'

‘You know why I can't,' Alex complained, jerking her chin towards the saloon door and the Gradys beyond.

‘Oh,
them
.' Dolly narrowed her eyes. ‘Well, I ain't much of a fairy godmother, but them I can do something about.'

Alex was baffled when Dolly knocked back her whiskey and headed back to the bar. ‘Well, I ain't making a red cent tonight!' Alex heard her exclaim in disgust. She crept to the door and peered through. Dolly was posed in the middle of the room, sweeping everyone in it with a dark glare. ‘What kind of whorehouse is it when the whores are sitting around gossiping and not one of them is flat on their back?'

Alex watched as Dolly sashayed over to the Gradys' table. ‘You gentlemen feel like doing me a favour? I don't like my girls being idle – it makes 'em lazy. Since the dance has killed business for tonight, how about I offer you a deal? Two girls each for the price of one?'

Silas, Bert and Travis looked up eagerly, but Gideon didn't stir.

Dolly grunted. ‘You still worried I'll charge you if they fall asleep? How about a flat fee then? The same price, whether they sleep all night or party all night? Once in a lifetime deal. Better take it before I come to my senses.'

Gideon looked up at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Seems awfully generous.'

Alex's heart sank. Whatever Dolly was up to wasn't going to work. She watched as Dolly gestured helplessly at the empty room. ‘It's either that or I make
no
money tonight.'

Gideon grinned wolfishly. ‘Looks like it's our lucky night, boys.' There was a clatter as they rose from their chairs. ‘I get first pick,' Gideon said sharply.

‘I'm the oldest,' Silas objected.

‘So you can go second. Don't forget who has the gold.'

Alex watched as they chose their women and disappeared upstairs.

‘Send up a bottle of whiskey to each room,' Gideon called down.

‘Mighty generous of you,' Dolly said, and Alex could hear the irony in her voice. ‘They woulda drunk a bottle each tonight anyway,' she told Alex when she returned to the kitchen. ‘What are you standing around for? Come on, upstairs with you.'

Alex looked at her, puzzled.

Dolly rolled her eyes. ‘Your reason for staying in has been taken care of, Cinderella. Time to make yourself pretty and get on down to that dance, before it's all over.'

‘But my clothes are back at the hotel.'

Dolly grabbed her and began shepherding her up the back stairs. ‘This is a house full of women. You think I don't have clothes?'

‘But I don't want to look like . . .'

‘A whore?'

Alex flushed, worried she'd given offence.

‘I can do demure as well as the next girl,' Dolly told her, completely unruffled. ‘I just choose not to.'

Back in Delia's room, Dolly once again emptied out the wardrobe. Alex had never seen so many dresses in her life. ‘All of these were Delia's?'

‘Heck, no. These are communal. Most of them are kept in my room, but with Delia gone I thought I'd store the overflow in here.'

There were muslins and satins, velvets and silks, in every shade of the rainbow. Just about all of them were cut daringly low. Dolly caught Alex examining them dubiously. ‘Don't worry about that, it's nothing a bit of gauze or lace can't fix. There's water in the pitcher there, wash yourself up in the washbasin while I go through these. Do your hair too, we can't have you going out with half a ton of grease in it.'

It seemed to take forever to get the dirt off. Alex scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin shone pink. And she had to wash her hair twice. By the time she was finished the water in the basin was black.

She stood wrapped in a towel, waiting for Dolly to finalise her choice.

‘I think the satins and silks are a little much for a country dance,' the whore mused aloud. ‘The peach is wrong for your colouring. Personally I like this pale green, but that might be because I'm wearing green today. Once I get a colour on my mind I just can't see anything else.'

Alex crept forward to look at the dress. It was the palest green, like young leaves, and it had an off-the-shoulder neckline, ruffled and trimmed with ivory lace.

‘It's lovely,' Alex said.

‘It don't look at all like something a whore would wear, does it?' Dolly said with a grin. ‘Now and then I get a young one working for me, and some men like the virginal look.' She tossed Alex some light and lacy undergarments, a pair of stockings and a whalebone corset. Alex hurried to dress, feeling a little bit like it was almost midnight and on the first stroke she would turn into a pumpkin.

Dolly laced the corset for her and lowered the dress over her head. Alex smoothed it over the bell of her petticoats as Dolly did up the row of buttons at the back. When she looked in the mirror she gasped, horrified. ‘This is virginal?' she asked in a choked voice.

The corset plumped her breasts up until they strained at the low neckline of the gown. She looked like she would overflow at any minute.

Dolly ignored her and tried to yank the neckline up a little higher. ‘It looks demure on some girls,' she muttered, ‘just not girls with your measurements.'

They both regarded Alex in the mirror. All they could see was the generous swell of cleavage. Alex moaned. ‘I can't go out like this.'

Dolly chewed her painted lip thoughtfully. Then she turned back to the riot of clothes on the bed and fussed about for a minute. ‘Aha!' she exclaimed, pulling a length of gauze from the tangle. Artfully, she draped it around Alex's bodice, securing it at the back with a knot.

‘Respectable enough to be seen out in public,' Dolly exclaimed triumphantly, ‘but not so respectable as to hide your God-given assets.' It was true. Her breasts could still be seen, faintly, through the gauze, but without the sight of naked flesh, it didn't seem so scandalous. ‘Now we have to do something about your hair,' Dolly clucked, eyeing the drying gold-streaked waves.

Alex couldn't see that there was much that could be done, but she'd forgotten that she was dealing with an expert. Dolly sat her down on the bed and poked her and stuck her with a fistful of hairpins, until Alex's hair no longer looked shorn. It looked like it had simply been pinned up.

‘Of course, it still don't look like you've got much hair . . .' Dolly mused thoughtfully. Then, seized by another idea, she tore a cloth rose off an old velvet dress and pinned it in Alex's hair.

‘It will be dark,' she said, ‘maybe with that old thing distracting them no-one will notice the hair.'

Alex stood and moved to the mirror. There was nothing childish about the woman staring back at her. Her heart fluttered with excitement as she thought of the expression on Luke's face when he saw her.

Thirteen

Luke was happy with the party he'd put together. They were a decent bunch of people and they seemed to get along famously. Not like last year's bunch. That had been the worst trip of his career; too many bachelors and not enough women to keep them civilised. He'd sworn to give up the trail for good after that one, and he might have if he hadn't heard about Jackson's stallion.

The stallion. His gaze dwelled on Victoria, a swirl of yellow on the dance floor, and a satisfied smile played about his lips. Such a reasonable young lady. He was sure he'd have no trouble persuading her to sell the animal when they got to Oregon. He just needed to borrow a bit of cash from his brother, Tom, and the horse was as good as his. His eyes sparkled as he thought of what he could do with the Arab. He had a lovely little filly, also a gray, that he would pair him with first. Their colts would fetch a pretty price. Hell, he might even take them down to California and put them up for auction.

A low whistle pulled him from his thoughts. ‘Would you look at that,' Henry Watts said in a reverent voice. Luke followed his gaze. And there she was: beautiful Beatrice. She of the perfect legs, and face, and . . . everything else.

He grinned. He'd known she would turn up eventually. What else was there to do in Independence on a Saturday night? He ran a hand over his freshly cut hair and straightened his starched collar. He'd gone to the barber this afternoon, having a feeling that tonight would be the night he would see her again. He didn't usually care about his appearance, at least not unless Amelia Harding was around, but tonight he had wanted to look his best. He'd even bought some cologne and splashed it on, and he wasn't the kind of man who wore cologne. He'd never worn it for Amelia. He paused, discomfited by the notion. Unsettled, he pushed away thoughts of the pretty brown-eyed girl at home. She was a thousand miles away and beautiful Beatrice was right here.