Only My Love (19 page)

"What do you think you're doing?" Dee asked from the doorway to the saloon. Houston was directly behind her.

"Sweeping." Michael knew a moment's triumph when she glimpsed the last vestige of panic in their faces.

"Get inside," Dee snapped. "And don't leave the saloon again for any reason." She pushed Houston out of the way and went back to her office.

"Don't give me any reason to think you've left again," Houston said. His voice was as hard as his eyes. "Detra will be the least of your worries."

Michael's sense of triumph disappeared. Even though they had found her easily and she had given no indication she was doing anything but her chore, she realized her action had made them more wary, not more trusting. Discouraged, she followed Houston back into the saloon.

* * *

She wasn't able to see her entire reflection in the mirror above the bureau. In a way it was a relief. What she could see made her want to scream in frustration. Kitty had come to her room after dinner to assist her with rouge and powder and hairpins. Michael didn't recognize herself when Kitty was finished. Her lips were painted bright red, her cheeks rouged just a shade less so. Kitty arranged her hair more loosely than was Michael's preference, letting the curls spill freely where they would. Michael was successful in convincing Kitty the pink taffeta bow was too much, but as a victory it was hardly satisfying. Not when Michael still had to contend with the gown.

It was every bit as tight as she thought it would be and the stiff whalebone corset constricted her breathing. Putting her hands on her waist, Michael decided it was too small to contain the organs inside it, which led her to the conclusion that it was indeed her heart that was in her mouth. Against her better judgment Michael pulled a chair over to the chest of drawers and stood on it. The view of what she would be presenting below stairs did not give her any confidence.

Her breasts were too exposed by the low curved neckline, her arms and shoulders too bare without benefit of gloves or a shawl. The hem of the skirt fell just below her knees and the white stockings and high-heeled boots, from what she could see, made her legs seem impossibly long.

Michael jumped down from the chair and pushed it back against the wall. "I can't do this," she said to the empty room. "I can't go downstairs like this. I can't dance in these shoes. I can't kick in this dress. My God, they'll see
everything."
Michael had brought her partially smoked cigarette from the morning to her room and squirreled it away. She got it out now and went to the window and opened it wide. Sitting on the sill, she lit it and drew the smoke in deeply. She simply didn't care who observed her from below. Exhaling slowly, Michael stared down at the street without really seeing any of the activity. She imagined herself on stage. "Those miners are going to see everything even if I don't kick."

She wished Dee had allowed her to serve drinks in the afternoon with all the other girls. After Houston left Detra decided it would be better if Michael spent the afternoon and early evening in her room, just as much to get her out of the way as to offer her up as a surprise for the miners later. Michael had been happy to retreat earlier. Now she wished she hadn't. She could have gotten used to the stares gradually, used to the pinching and poking. Now she would have to face it all at once, along with the whistling and hooting and name-calling, and she would have to be pleasant, even pretend to enjoy some of it.

"Another minute," she told herself, waving smoke outside so it wouldn't cling to her dress or the room, "and I'll probably just wake up and laugh about this nightmare." She waited. A minute passed and she had to admit there would be no waking up because there was no dream.

Kitty poked her head in the door. "You look grand!" She saw the cigarette. "Get rid of that! Dee will have a fit! C'mon, we'll take the backstairs so no one sees you before time. What a sight you are! They're about goin' to pop themselves when they see what Dee's ordered up for them from the East. Listen." She cocked her head to one side. "You can hear 'em downstairs askin' for us to get started. Kind of warms you, don't it? And won't Ethan like how you cleaned up so well!"

Michael's head snapped up. "Ethan's back? He's here?"

Kitty nodded. "Mm-hmm. Downstairs sittin' at a table with Houston. Just came in a few minutes ago from the mines. Are you comin' or not?"

Putting out her cigarette, Michael came to her feet slowly. "I'm coming."

* * *

Ethan's eyes wandered around the saloon as he nursed his beer. He was dog-tired and had little patience for the rowdy crowd that filled Kelly's. He glanced at Houston. "You here as the owner this evening or as the sheriff?"

"Both. In either capacity I figure Jake and I will throw out half a dozen men tonight." Houston reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a leather notepad and two pencils. He laid them on the table and pushed them toward Ethan. "You know anything about this? Lottie found them when she was washing Michael's things."

Masking his concern with indifference, Ethan picked up the notepad and began leafing through it. Though he examined the book casually he was looking for any reference to the
Chronicle,
Michael's position there, or her real name. He saw nothing that could serve to endanger her. "It's a diary of her trip," he said. "Michael's always kept a diary."

Houston nodded. "See that she doesn't keep a diary of this little side excursion. I don't want her writing down anything that could cause us trouble later."

Ethan offered up the notepad. "Do you want to keep it?"

"No. But I want to look at it from time to time. Michael doesn't have to know. I find her observations interesting." He leaned forward, turning his shot glass slowly between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm going to give you a chance, Ethan, that I don't usually give other men when I see something I want. I'm going to tell you about it before I have it safely in hand."

Ethan finished the last of his beer and set down his glass. "I appreciate the gesture, but you're not going to tell me anything I don't already know. Your interest in Michael is pretty evident. Detra sees it, too."

"I'm not concerned with Dee. I'm wondering about you. Do you really still think of Michael as your wife? Even after four years?"

"Would it stop you if I did?"

"I don't know."

"And I don't know either," Ethan said. "But, you see, it doesn't matter, because she
is
my wife."

"She was going to marry that reporter."

"She thought I was dead."

"You still could be."

Ethan considered Houston's threat a moment. He had come to know his man well in the last five months and he believed Houston was bluffing. "Where would be the challenge for you then? You want her, but so do I. I'm not going to warn you off her, Houston. You've seen enough of Michael to know she makes up her own mind." He raised his glass for a refill, closing the subject. When no one came to take his order he realized all the girls were getting ready for the entertainment. "As long as I can't get another quick beer," he said, "I'm going up. Michael must be half out of her mind from being trapped in the room all day."

"She wasn't in there all day."

Ethan had started to rise but Houston's words brought him back to the table. "What do you mean?" He put Michael's notepad and pencils in his coat pocket. "I told Dee that I wanted Michael locked in. I even gave her the key."

"You settle it with Dee, but I was still here this morning when Dee sent Kitty up to Michael with clothes and instructions to come down for breakfast and rehearsal."

"That bitch," he swore softly. "She knows I didn't want Michael dancing."

"Dee can defend herself, but she had a point about getting Michael involved. Michael's supposed to work for her."

"She can serve drinks. I told Dee that. Just not yet."

"You don't trust Michael, do you?"

"I'd be a fool to."

Houston nodded. "She swept her way right out of here after rehearsal this morning."

"She was outside? Without Dee?" Ethan looked down at his empty beer glass and wished there were another swallow in it. He lowered his voice so that Houston had to pull in closer to hear him. "She only needs a few minutes head start to leave Madison. Less than that to tell someone a story about No. 349. No one might believe her at first but she'd plant a seed in their mind. Sooner or later they'd realize the truth."

Houston's reply was cut off by the piano. Lottie was banging out the introduction to
When the Sun Shines.
The crowd hushed almost immediately in anticipation.

"I'm going to strangle her," Ethan said softly.

"Who? Detra?"

"Her first, then Michael."

Houston brushed aside his concern. "Let the men enjoy looking at her. You can afford to be generous. After all, you get to bed down with her."

Ethan didn't comment. His blue-gray eyes were fixed on the raised platform where the dancers would appear in another moment. There was a roar from the crowd as Susan shuffled on stage, twirling her parasol and blowing kisses to the miners. She was followed by Carmen and Josie and Kitty and finally by Michael. The steady roar erupted into wild applause as the men became aware of the new face and figure on the stage.

"Oh God," Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "Would you look at her?"

"I am." Houston glanced at the other tables. "So is everyone else. Quite a change from the priggish schoolmarm I first laid eyes on."

Ethan's thoughts were along the same lines but he kept them to himself. Even at the distance he was from the stage, Michael looked as if she had applied her face paints with a heavy hand. He had never thought the other women looked garish with their bright lips and rosy cheeks, but seeing the same effect on Michael made him revise his opinion.

His eyes strayed from her face to her gown. She was showing more leg than any of the other dancers and no less of her breasts. He winced as she linked arms with Josie and Kitty and raised her legs in a high stepping kick. Her petticoats flew up and seemed to stay there a moment after her legs came down. It was a movement repeated over and over again as Lottie pounded out the ditty on the piano. He tried to single out her voice among the dancers and couldn't, then the miners joined in as the chorus was repeated and the task became impossible. It occurred to him that she was probably simply mouthing the words, though why she thought she had to was beyond him. Above the caterwauling of the miners, the sour notes that Lottie hit from time to time, and the shrill pitch of the dancers, it didn't matter if Michael was tone deaf.

The dance seemed to last longer than he remembered, but then Ethan had always been able to enjoy it before. Watching Michael, knowing she was burning with embarrassment and rage, made it torture for him as well. Her smile was fixed, her eyes vacant, and as near as he could tell from the enthusiasm of the crowd, he was the only one who realized it. He amended his thinking a moment later. Houston seemed to realize it as well. Ethan saw he was no longer smiling as Lottie played the final chorus and the saloon fairly vibrated with sustained applause and whistling.

"Where are you going?" Houston asked as Ethan got to his feet.

"To get her off that stage."

Houston laid his hand over Ethan's forearm and shook his head. "Let her be. The worst's over. You said she could serve drinks." He released Ethan's arm and pointed to his empty glass. "You look like you could use another beer."

Ethan hesitated. Michael was already leaving the stage, following the other girls down the ramp and being swallowed up by the miners eager to get a few words with her. He saw she was managing to make her way to the bar. Raising his glass, he caught her eye. She ignored him.

Houston had seen the exchange. When Ethan sat down again he said, "Looks like there'll be hell to pay."

Ethan's small grunt was all the acknowledgment he offered. "You heard anything official about the other night?" he asked, referring to the robbery.

"News was telegraphed here this morning. Rich Hardy reported it to me right away. I suspect everyone in Madison knows about the robbery by now. Seems it was one of the biggest train heists to date."

"That a fact?" He grinned because it was expected.

"That's what they're saying over the wire."

They continued to talk about the robbery as if they had not been part of it, as if they knew no more about it than what the telegrapher had reported to the sheriff. But between the lines there was another communication, one of success, of congratulation. Ethan participated because he had to, not because he wanted to. It was something of a relief to be troubled by the conversation. It meant he still knew which side he was on.

Detra joined them at the table. She kissed Houston on the cheek but her dark blue eyes were more interested in Ethan Stone. There was too much cunning in her smile for it to be a sincere greeting. "You men enjoy the show as much as my other customers?" she asked.

"You deliberately ignored my orders," Ethan said, making no effort to hide his anger from Dee or any of the customers who might look in their direction.

"You don't have the right to order me," Detra said. The look she gave Houston was equally significant. "No man does. I manage this place and I'll manage it as I see fit."