Lariats, Letters, and Lace Page 10

  Stop with the indulgences. She tossed back the quilt, sucked in a breath, and shivered in the chilly air. Although two chimneys ran through the exterior walls, the heat in their attic loft never seeped far from the bricks. With the quickest of actions, she used the chamber pot and then completed her morning ablutions with a threadbare wash rag and cold water from the ewer on a nearby table. Someday, she’d earn enough to pay for hot water each morning, not just a bath on Saturdays. At least she could still afford to have the rooming house maid empty and clean the chamber pot.

  After dressing and braiding her hair, she slipped from behind the privacy blanket that marked her section of the shared attic. Harriet and Madge usually slept until noon, but Daisy just couldn’t. Walking as quietly as she could on her hand-knit slippers, she went to the cupboards over the dry sink. Hers was the middle door and from inside, she lifted down a partially withered apple and a hard crusty roll. Same breakfast as every day, except the previous morning when she’d finished the last of the cheese.

  She carried an upright chair next to her window and paused, scanning the handful of pedestrians on the street below. Hope bubbled in her chest over the possibility of running into the man again. Silly, girl. The handsome stranger was probably miles and miles from this town.

  Shaking her head, she collected her knitting basket from the wooden chest that held her belongings. A glance inside the basket showed she had enough yarn for only one more scarf. She picked up the navy ball and the needles and started casting on stitches. Since the fall when the weather turned cold, Daisy had been knitting scarves in her free time. She sent them to Perry in care of general delivery in Centerville, and he sold them to other miners along the creek where his claim was located. Perry wrote how the men always pounced on each shipment like hungry dogs on meat scraps. Leave it to her brother to use an analogy filled with action. The profit wasn’t much, but she liked the idea of her creations helping others. Every cent earned went toward their dream of owning a book shop.

  Her needles slowed, and she frowned. The last shipment had been at the first of the year, and she hadn’t received her payment yet. Now that she thought about elapsed time and dates, she’d written to her brother on the last Sunday of January but hadn’t yet received a reply. Maybe Perry had a good run of color and didn’t want to waste the time. The cheery thought sped her fingers and the scarf grew, almost like magic.

  ****

  Early in the afternoon, Walt paced the boardwalk across from the Empress Hotel, anxious to complete his task and head out of town. The previous night after eating his steak dinner, he’d positioned himself at a table near the saloon door, hoping to catch Daisy when the dancing ended. The cost of a couple beers while he waited was cheaper than the complete hours of her dancing time he wanted to buy. He should have figured a different entrance would be provided for the women so they could avoid passing through the saloon itself.

  What he couldn’t comprehend was why she was working in such a place. Nothing about a change in jobs from the Top Drawer Mercantile where Perry mentioned she worked had been noted in her letters. Learning her circumstances were so drastically changed had shaken Walt’s resolve. His conscience demanded he find out more before he handed over the letter. News like what was contained inside was better received in the daylight.

  Making one last turn on the boardwalk before he headed to the hotel, he spotted movement at the end of the next block. Daisy with two other women. From this distance, he wasn’t sure, but he thought they were other dancers from the Lucky Nugget. How had they exited the hotel and gotten that far away?

  He walked within the shadowed part of the boardwalk, keeping the group in sight—pausing when they did and walking to match their pace. His plan involving delivery of the letter hadn’t included the possibility of finding her in the company of others. Irritation rang from his boot heels smacking on the wooden planks. But, of course she’d go out in public with other young women—all proper ladies would. Safety in numbers.

  The group crossed the street at the end of the next block and headed in his direction.

  Walt froze, then he turned and almost ran into a tall man with broad shoulders and a badge glinting on his skirt pocket. “Eh, excuse me.”

  “May I ask your business, sir?” A shaggy eyebrow hoisted high over a penetrating blue-eyed glare.

  Guess I wasn’t as circumspect as I thought. Stalling, Walt stuck out his hand. “Walter Renfrid, sheriff. I’m just visiting here in Rough and Ready. Thought I saw a miner friend up the way, but I was mistaken.”

  The older man accepted the handshake. “Sheriff Boyden. Sure you weren’t about to pester those young women who just went into the milliner’s shop? Noticed you pacing your stride to theirs.”

  “Who? Where?” Walt feigned innocence but was pretty sure he hadn’t fooled the older man. “Fact is, I have an appointment a couple of streets over. Nice meeting you, sir. Good to learn the town has such a diligent law enforcer.” This time, he made sure to keep his strides at a normal pace as he walked away. No matter how much he wanted to glance back to see if Daisy had left the shop, he stared straight ahead. Now seemed as good a time as any to pay a visit to the assayer’s office. As to the other matter, he’d have to wait until tonight when he was sure of a way to get her alone.

  ****

  Hours later, the smells of cooked meat and roasted coffee surrounded him. By choosing to sit at the long communal table at The Forest Café, Walt guaranteed his supper would take twice longer than if he’d sat at a table by himself. He talked with Juan Costa who was driving cattle north, and Steve Barnes who had a wagon of clothes, blankets, and food he was taking higher into the mountains. Barnes had heard miners rarely left their claims so he was taking the supplies to them. Both men had high hopes of profiting from the gold fields without doing the back-breaking digging like Walt and Perry had.

  For the span of thirty minutes, Walt had almost forgotten the task he’d come to town to complete. After finished a tasty piece of dried apple pie, he finally stood, ready to take his leave and meet with Daisy.

  “Where you going, mister?” Juan tossed back the last of his coffee and waggled his dark eyebrows. “Heading off to a saloon?”

  Steve turned and nodded. “I could use a stiff shot or two before turning in.”

  “You’re right. I’m going to a saloon, the Lucky Nugget. You both are welcome to join me.” Although Walt hoped he hadn’t just invited along competition for Daisy’s attention. Twenty minutes later, he rued his invitation.

  Both of Walt’s companions decided they would dance with each of the girls. Juan kicked up his heels with grace and style. Barnes two-stepped to every tune, no matter the beat. The number of men vying for each dance was greater than the night before. Walt was lucky to get one out of four or five dances with Daisy.

  As he waited for their third number together, he’d decided he couldn’t hand off the letter during her work hours. Being here at the dance hall was now purely for selfish reasons—to spend time with the woman he’d come to know through her letters to Perry. To enjoy one more evening in her company before he delivered the fateful message. Finally, his turn came, and he dropped a dime into the money box.

  Daisy turned to him and gave him a wide smile. “Evening again, monsieur.”

  Walt clasped her hand and led her to a corner of the dance floor before arranging them into a dancing position. “Business looks good tonight, Miss Daphne.”

  “Ah, oui. A pump at zee Pyramid Mine failed, and”—she shrugged—“zee workers come to dance.”

  He’d heard that companies were finding more gold by excavating deep enough to hit the water table. Nothing like the surface mining he and Perry performed with shovels and sluice boxes. “Explains the competition. That, and the fact that so few women live out West.”

  She drew her brows into a frown as they swayed and turned but her steps never wavered.

  Nearby, Juan spun Madge away and then stomped his boot heels in a circle around her while
clapping his hands over his head.

  Daisy laughed and watched over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen that step before. Do you think it’s European?”

  Could he hope she was finally feeling at ease enough to drop her pretense? “What happened to your accent, Miss Daphne?”

  She trod on his boot and then stopped, eyes wide. “Oh, no.” She looked over her shoulder toward the thin man standing to the side of the curtained doorway.

  Walt pressed his hand against her waist, urging her to get back in step. “Keep moving. Your boss is watching. And smile.”

  Lifting her chin, she met his gaze and caught the music’s rhythm. “He wants us to pretend we come from a foreign country. We are performers, after all. Please, don’t tell him I slipped up.”

  “I’ll keep your secret.” After a circle of the room, Walt sensed by her relaxed moves that she had recovered. “No need for the act with me. I simply enjoy dancing with the young woman you are. In fact, I would like to take you to lunch tomorrow.”

  “You would?” She swept her gaze over his face then glanced over his shoulder.

  Color bloomed in her cheeks. Walt gritted his teeth against the conflicting emotions that blush created. He hoped her reaction was because she wanted to spend time with him away from this place. The moment he’d arrived in this town, he’d known that he wanted to get to know her better. Unfortunately, everything about their situation told him that he shouldn’t. She would be better off cutting all ties to him.

  “One thing I must know before I give my answer.”

  He studied her face that had become serious. “All right. What is that?”

  “Your name. When I’m not using my Daphne persona, when I’m in my regular life…” She leaned close and whispered, “I am Daisy. So now, I need to know what to call you.”

  His mind raced. If he told her, he knew he’d be subjected to questions about Perry. For just a little while longer, he wanted to see her eyes light up when she saw him. He wanted her to appreciate him as a dance partner. “I’m James.” As soon as he’d given his middle name, he wanted to pull it back. This was the first fib he’d told her. And he hoped it would be the last.

  Chapter Three

  The day broke clear with only a few puffy white clouds to mar the crystal blue sky over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Walt paced the length of his hotel room, knowing his life would be changed in just a few hours when he completed his task. If today was to mark a different phase of his life, he might as well greet it with a new face.

  A visit to a bathhouse and a barber were in order. He’d intended to be shaved clean. As he stared in the mirror at the beard that had been part of his face for so many months, he changed his mind. Instead, he instructed the barber to trim it short, unable to pinpoint the exact reason, but he was pleased with the result.

  At noon as they agreed, Walt arrived in the lobby of the Empress Hotel. After a nod to the clerk, he chose an upholstered chair that faced the main staircase. Now, he sat, anticipating the moment she’d appear on the landing and give him the chance to watch her descend the steps.

  The entrance door opened, and he glanced over to see Juan Costa enter with a tanned man wearing a sheepskin jacket and big hat. After an acknowledging nod to Juan, Walt looked back toward the staircase and straightened.

  Daisy stood at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a light blue blouse and black skirt. Today, her hair was loose and fell in golden waves over her shoulders.

  Walt smiled and stood, watching as she approached. “G’day, Miss Daisy.” He bent his elbow and waited until she slid her hand into the crook.

  “Good day, James.”

  Inwardly, he winced but knew the façade needed to hold for only a short while longer. Within minutes, they were seated in the dining room containing a dozen round tables with two to four chairs at each. Walt looked around the well-appointed room, noticing oil lamps in wall sconces and a dark wood wainscoting under pale yellow-and-white-striped wallpaper. Even if Daisy was used to eating here, he wanted their time to be spent in a nicer setting than the family-type setting of The Forest Café.

  “Oh look, isn’t that painting of Lake Tahoe beautiful?”

  “The lake’s prettier in person. The water is a blue-green color that paint doesn’t quite capture.”

  “Lucky you, to have seen it.” She grinned and looked around the room.

  He listened to more comments about the setting and the furnishings, becoming confused at the way she went on about his choice of such a special restaurant. Why didn’t a person who lived in the hotel also dine there? Just happy to be spending time alone, he brushed aside his question and focused on her pretty face.

  A waiter recited the three meal options, took their orders, and departed.

  Walt had been watching as Daisy listened to the selections and made her food choice. The tip of her pink tongue moved across her lips as if she was truly hungry for any of the described meals. On closer inspection, he noticed that her clothing looked too large for her thin frame. How long had she worked at the dance hall and lived on wages that probably fluctuated each week?

  “James, I have to thank you for not asking me about my past.” Daisy sipped from her water glass before looking across the table toward him.

  Only with great restraint had he kept himself from blurting out questions about the mercantile job. “Does that personal subject come up often?”

  “Most of my partners do ask. Then they tell me that I should be married with a man to take care of me, instead of being forced to mingle with strangers.” She smoothed a wrinkle from the tablecloth. “After that declaration, they start talk about their mothers, wives, or sisters back home. More than the dance, they are looking for someone to listen and relieve their loneliness for a short spell.” She let out a gasp and focused on something in her lap, the color rising in her cheeks.

  No matter if that’s how he appeared to her, he couldn’t let her feel badly about doing what she needed to survive. “Then I’d say you provide a valuable service. Companionship, let alone compassion, is often in short supply these days.”

  When she looked up, she smiled and her amber eyes shone. “Thank you for your kind words. I wasn’t always a dance hall girl. I assure you, I won’t be very much longer.” She lifted a hand and pointed toward the window. “See that store across the street?”

  Nodding, he glanced toward the indicated mercantile, knowing already about her employment there.

  “I worked as a clerk at Top Drawer Mercantile and really liked that job. I have a good head for figures and liked talking with folks as they made their purchases.”

  The waiter delivered their food and refilled their water glasses.

  For several minutes, Walt ate without further conversation, enjoying his ham steak and sweet potatoes. He watched Daisy’s eyes close as she chewed her first bite of pot roast and vegetables—surely, she wasn’t getting enough to eat. “What happened to that job?”

  “The owner caught gold fever and abandoned the store.” She selected a fluffy roll from a bowl and smeared on a dab of butter. “One day Mr. Stohl was there, appearing happy with his business, and the next, a note on the dining room table explained he couldn’t pass up the chance of getting rich.” She nibbled on the roll and quickly swallowed. “Mrs. Stohl tried to step in, but she had no training and didn’t understand about orders and inventory. Besides, the poor woman had three children under the age of six at home.” Daisy picked up her fork and stabbed another chunk of roast. “Then word came he’d been killed in a dispute over his claim. Another soul lost to the gold fields.”

  Walt stilled, his gut clutching into a tight ball. The food in his mouth turned to ash, and he gulped down a big swallow of water. “Tragic, but not unheard of.”

  “I suppose, but I don’t like to think of that lawlessness.”

  The topic was getting too close to his reality. “The mercantile is still in operation. Did Mrs. Stohl sell the business?”

  Nodding, Daisy took a bite of pota
to. “She did. But the new owner’s wife didn’t want young women as clerks. In the first week, she replaced all the female clerks with men, even if they had no training. Every time I go in the store, I see different employees. The allure of the gold fields is too strong to keep young men in town.”

  The conversation moved to an upcoming theater production that was due in nearby Centerville at the end of the month. Knowing the time grew short before he broached the painful subject, Walt pushed aside his half-empty plate and just listened. He let her happy voice and cheerful smiles wash over him, worrying these might be the last ones he’d ever see.

  Daisy talked about the trip she and her roommates planned to take to the neighboring city to enjoy a matinee. “The expense of the coach ride and the ticket are dear. But as Harriet and Madge say, we deserve a treat every once in a while.”

  The waiter paused at their table and asked if they’d like dessert as he reached for the plates.

  “None for me.” Walt shook his head.

  “Could you wrap up the unfinished food for me to take home?” Her cheeks blazed a bright red, but Daisy held up her head as she made her request.

  Walt debated about offering the remainder of his meal but worried that might be too forward. “I’d like a cup of coffee, please. How about you, Daisy?”

  “A cup of tea would be nice.”

  Silence settled over the table until the beverages were served.

  Walt sipped at the bracing brew and then took a deep breath. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise. “Daisy, I need you to listen to everything I have to say before you ask questions.”

  The cup in her hand shook, and she set it in the saucer. “James, you sound so serious. What’s wrong?”

  “First, I should tell you my real name.” His throat dried, and he paused as he watched her mouth press into a tight line. “My full name is Walter James Renfrid.”