Way Out West (4 page)

 “I warned you.”

 “Well, you could have
been more specific,” she shot back.

 Still staring, he
murmured, “But then I would have missed that fire in your eyes.”

 Callie glared back at
him, ready to blast him out, but his eyes burned with something she couldn’t
quite put her finger on. Whatever it was warmed her all over. Even her hand
tingled where it melded in his unreleasing grip.

 She shook her head. Maybe
she read too much into this. After all, everyone liked him. And why not? He was
kind, gentle, pleasant, polite. Or was it just make believe like this town? Was
there another side to the unknown gambler?

 “Ohh, never mind,” she
grumbled, looking down at her soiled hip. “If you would please give me my
parcel, I’d like to go inside and change out of this mess.”

 From the saddlebag, Rand retrieved the package containing the only items she’d been allowed to bring in: personal
toiletries, three outfits from the wardrobe room at the way station, the
precious manual and her identification card. Her sneakers weren’t allowed but
she’d brought them anyway.

 “Well, thanks for the
lift,” she said breezily.

 His hand lingered atop
the brown paper. “Mind if I accompany you?”

 The ride into town had
been far from pleasant and the prospect of starting her new job was as
palatable as what she’d stepped in. So, yes, Rand’s company would be
comforting. But he didn’t need to know that. Shouldn’t a lady keep some things
to herself?

 Callie looked toward
the swinging doors as a man walked out and tipped his hat to her in passing. “Suit
yourself,” she answered. “It’s a public place.”

 With a hand at her
elbow, Rand followed her up the steps and held one door open for her to pass
through. Voices rang out as soon as they entered.

 “Rand! Good to see ya.”

 “Well, look what the
cat dragged in.”

 From behind an
intricately carved mahogany bar, the bartender snapped a towel over his
shoulder and placed a clean glass before him. Behind him was a mirrored wall
adorned with four ornate brass oil lamps and dozens of colored bottles.

 “A mite early for a
card game, Rand.” The man waved his hand indicating the empty tables. “Not much
goin’ on yet.”

 “Not here for a game
just yet, Smitty. Later.”

 Smitty bobbed his head
toward Callie. “I can see as how you’re occupied at the moment.” She didn’t
like the third-person implication and turned a shoulder to Smitty.

 One side of Rand’s mustache twitched up a hair. “Do you know where we might find Miss Becky?” He looked
around and up to the balcony overlooking the large room.

 “Try the office. She
was doing some book work earlier.”

 Just then a door behind
Callie opened and a red-haired, buxom beauty stepped forward. “Rand! I thought I heard your voice. Welcome back.” She approached with open arms.

 “Another familiar face,
I see,” Callie grumbled as the two embraced in a far too friendly manner for
Callie to misinterpret. “Why don’t I just wait outside till the steam clears,”
she whispered close to Rand’s shoulder.

 She turned to leave but
his fingers caught the sleeve of her dress. Releasing Miss Becky, Rand put his hand on Callie’s shoulder and forced her around.

 “Becky, I’d like to
introduce you to Callie.”

 “My, this is a first,
Rand, you bringing in a woman. And a right pretty little thing, too. Nice to
meet you, Callie.”

 Rand’s hand pressed
into Callie’s shoulder until she couldn’t ignore the message. “Hi. Nice to meet
you, Becky.”

 Releasing her shoulder,
he cleared his throat. “I didn’t actually bring her in. We sort of met up on
the trail. She had a little trouble with her...transportation.”

 Suddenly raising her
nose a notch, Becky had obviously caught wind of the foul odor and looked down
at Callie. Her eyes drifted to the dark splotch on Callie’s hip.

 “What’d you do, Rand? Drag her in?”

 Callie narrowed her
eyes at Rand, daring him to make her look more foolish than she already did. But
deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. He was a gentleman.

 “Actually, Becky,
Callie is here to work for you.”

 Becky’s eyes widened. “Well,
that’s a horse of a different color. Or should I say, odor?” She winked
mischievously at Callie.

 Instantly, she knew she
was going to like Becky.

 “Come on, darlin’,”
Becky drew a comforting arm around Callie. “Let’s get you out of those
traveling clothes and into something a lot fresher and far more appealing.” The
two women headed for the stairs leading to the second floor.

 Rand called out before
they stepped up. “Callie?” She turned to him. “You listen carefully to Miss
Becky.”

 Why did she have this
nagging compulsion to answer, “Yes, master”? Instead she waved and continued up
the stairs.

 “Don’t worry, Rand. I’ll take good care of her,” Becky assured both of them. “See you tonight, big guy?”

 “Count on it,” he
answered with a glint in his eye.

* * *

 “Well, young lady, I
don’t know what you did to turn that man’s head, but my hat’s off to you.”

 Becky swished into the
green room crowded with rows of dresses hanging from wooden racks. One wall
supported three large mirrors set into an alcove for multiple views.

 Callie, still clinging
to her parcel, gaped at the beautiful dresses of satins and sequins and
feathers. “I don’t know what you mean. I just rode in with him.”

 “Come on, girl, you can’t
be that naive. I could name a dozen women who’ve tried and failed to sink their
teeth into Rand. The man’s skin is as thick as a buffalo’s and you’ve somehow
managed to get under it.”

 “I’ve been known to do
that to people,” Callie quipped. Especially when she didn’t meet their
expectations.

 Becky laughed heartily.
“Come on over here and let’s find you something that’ll really get his head
spinning.”

 “You mean,” Callie
hedged, “there’s nothing between you?”

 “Me and Rand? No! Not
that I wouldn’t have welcomed the idea at one time. No, me and Rand are just good
friends. He’s a steady customer, and a darned good tipper.”

 Turning her attention
to the racks, Becky began pulling off dresses in a rainbow of colors. Callie
noted that the shelves underneath were lined with an array of matching shoes,
and the shelves above spilled over with feathered and satin headbands.

 It was like a great big
game of dress-up. “Did they really dress like this in the old saloons?”

 “In some. We glamorize
a bit to satisfy the guests’ preconceptions, but in the more affluent mining towns
of the period, women often imported such fancy dresses from Paris. What you see
here is the best of the West.” Turning to Callie with a triumphant smile and an
armload of dresses, Becky ordered, “Now, get that filthy dress off and try on
some of these. You’re gonna have a fine coming out tonight.”

* * *

 After choosing several
outfits for the next few days, Becky showed Callie to her simple room. Light
blue curtains and spread offset the dark wood bed, nightstand, chair and
dresser. Hanging her dresses on the hook behind the door, she patiently
listened to Becky’s rules and regulations. No smoking, drinking or cussing. Be
nice to the customers, and earn your tips.”

 “But I thought that’s
what went on in saloons, a lot of smoking, drinking and cussing.”

 Becky aimed a stern
look at Callie who sensed she’d just broken some sacred rule. “The customers
may do those things but not my girls. They are to act respectable at all times.
I run a clean and classy establishment.”

 Callie smoothed back
her hair and looked uneasily down at her feet. Her boots weren’t anywhere near
as uncomfortable as Becky’s implied warning.

“Now, go down to the
kitchen for a kettle of hot water to get cleaned up. You can send it up on the
dumb waiter. Your wash basin’s over there with fresh towels. If you need
anything laundered, put it in the laundry chute out in the hallway. You have
about two hours to freshen up and grab a bite to eat.”

 “Then what do I do?”
Callie asked apprehensively.

 “Nothing. Tonight you
just sit by the bar and look pretty. I want you to observe the other girls and
the customers. Get a feel for what’s going on. Got it?”

 “I guess. Will you be
there?”

 “Oh, I’m always around,
somewhere. Now, you go on and do what you have to do. If you have any extra
time, practice your western accent and for heaven’s sake, read your manual. I
don’t have time for private tutoring.”

 Her point made clear,
Becky swished out of the room, leaving only her lilac scent. Alone for the
first time, Callie sighed and could only wonder what the next month would be
like in a place she never would have dreamed of visiting. Cowboys, horses,
uncomfortable clothes. None of them tickled her fancy. In fact, she avoided
western shows or movies; she even cringed whenever she heard country western
music.

 Now, here she was right
in the middle of a late 1800’s town, hired to make cowboys happy to spend their
money. Becky had explained there’d be lurid looks and remarks, but it all came
with the territory so she’d better get used to the idea.

 Her mind drifted back
to Rand, knowing he’d never be like that. There was nothing foul or unpleasant
about him. He’d been a tip-your-hat, yes-ma’am kind of gentleman right from the
start. He knew his role and played it well.

 Trouble was, could she
believe it? Was it just a role for him or did he play his true self? Would she
ever get to know?

* * *

 When Rand left the
saloon, he walked his horse to the stable then headed straight for the hotel
and ordered a tub of water in his room. He had a powerful lot of soaking to do.

 “I don’t know if there’s
enough hot water just yet, sir,” the clerk quivered. “The new arrivals have
taken most of it.”

 Rand nodded solemnly,
his gaze settling on the dark paneling behind the desk. Its rich, polished
surface greeted the weary travelers with warmth and simplicity, even following
them up the stairs to their rooms. Rand knew the panels well.

 He finished signing the
register and tipped the man. “Just send up whatever you have.”

 By the time Rand took his few belongings out of the saddlebags in his room, the water for his tub
arrived. He quickly stripped down and slid into the water after lighting a
cigar.

 “Ahhh,” he said aloud
at the comfortably warm water.

 Lying back in the tub,
puffing on his cigar, Rand pictured Callie pretty as can be sitting on his
saddle. The woman had gotten to him, no doubt about it. She’d made him smile at
the simplest things, and he wasn’t a man used to smiling.

 Oh, he put on a good
face at Way Out West. That was easy, because here he was someone else. Here, he
was someone he wanted to be more than anything. And everyone seemed to like
him. Sure, he tipped well, which made people only happy to cater to him. But he
also made friends, like Abe and Becky.

 Funny, he didn’t have
any women friends on the outside. There, they either wanted to be his wife, or
his enemy, but never his friend. After their divorce, his wife had become the
enemy, while single women came from everywhere to win his newly liberated
heart. But the transparency of their efforts was painful. All they really
wanted was his money. His heart had nothing to do with it. His heart wasn’t in
it.

 And now along came
Callie. He’d had this uncontrollable urge to protect her from the first moment
he saw her in the way station, hiding from that gruff leather-attired creature.
She’d looked scared, uncertain, and her golden hair reminded him of wheat
fields blowing freely in a summer breeze.

 Rand took the cigar out
of his mouth and spread a washcloth over his face. Veiled from visual
distractions, he concentrated on thoughts of Callie.

 She had a quick wit and
a sassiness uncommon in his circle of perfect socialites. She spoke her mind
and didn’t bother to fancy dress it for a good impression. Best of all, she
amused him. He found himself laughing at her antics, her attempts at being the
modern western girl, and himself. Convincing her to ride in with him had
boosted his morale. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed being with
a woman.

 But it sounded like a
right fine idea.

 Yes, he enjoyed Callie,
but he knew it could go no further. His life was far too complicated and she
was far too innocent. He believed in the protective anonymity of Way Out West
too much to deprive her of it, not to mention its importance for his own
preservation. If she’d come to hide from that burly biker, he had no right to
invade her privacy and he certainly had no right to put any designs on her.

 He was a gentleman,
after all, and given time she had the makings of a proper lady. During his
short one-week stay, he’d do his best to open her eyes to the beauty of the Old
West and life as it should be. Anything more was out of the question.