Jolie- A Valentine's Day Bride Read online

  “Stay, Bear.”

  The soft thud told him the dog had flopped to the floor. Bear would wait at the base of the stairs, but would come if called.

  Hank let Jolie lead him up the stairs. She did a good job of letting him know how high he needed to raise his foot, and how many steps he’d need to take before they reached the top. When they entered her room, the first thing he noticed was a sharp odor. Carbolic acid? Some doctors used it on wounds and after surgery to prevent sepsis.

  She let go of his arm and took his hat. He could feel the bed against the back of his legs. He froze at the sound of a click. She’d gone and locked the door. He couldn’t help but think this might’ve been a big mistake. She could knock him over the head with something heavy before he could call out and steal his cards and his money.

  “If you’d like, I’ll put the suitcase next to the bed. It’ll be right beside you. If you reach down you can feel it.”

  Had she read his mind, or maybe seen something in the way he reacted which may have given her a clue to his thoughts?

  “You don’t want to see what’s in it first?” he asked.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms, producing a rush of excitement. “Later, you can show me.”

  Later? What a pleasant surprise, she seemed to be more interested in him than the suitcase. He released it into her custody, hearing a surprised gasp.

  “My, this is heavy.”

  “It’s my inventory.”

  “Are you selling anvils?”

  “Not exactly.”

  She moved to one side of the bed and a thud followed. Then she came right back, close enough he could smell her fragrance over the other less pleasing scent. His heart galloped as she grasped the lapels of his coat and peeled it off. His breathing deepened when she drew down his galluses.

  “Here,” she murmured, “let’s get you comfortable, then I’ll wash you off.”

  Wash him? Ah, the carbolic acid solution. He’d heard of prostitutes using it to prevent becoming diseased. That’s why the room reeked of it.

  Hank’s idyllic bubble burst. His body was still eager enough, but the reminder of the true nature of their relationship extracted all the joy out of the moment. When she began to hurriedly unbutton his trousers, he laid his hand over hers. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I have important guests this evening, and we have a lot of preparation.” Her lips brushed his neck in a way that suggested intimacy, but her explanation made it clear he was just another guest, and not an important one.

  He cupped his hand behind her head and drew her closer to kiss her.

  She turned her face away. “No kissing. That’s not part of the service.”

  Flustered, Hank dropped his arm. She must’ve figured out by now that he wasn’t very experienced at this, unlike her, based on how efficiently she was undressing him. Her voice, on the other hand, made her seem younger. Or had he misjudged that about her too?

  “How old are you?”

  She dropped his trousers. “You’re not supposed to ask.”

  “But I am asking.”

  “Twenty-one.” She slipped the buttons on his shirt open.

  He strained to see her features. Did her eyes flash with interest, seductive intent, weariness, or resignation? She was going through the motions, doing what men expected her to do, something she’d done by rote over and over...His stomach knotted at the thought of how many men she’d undressed.

  “So, how many years have you...” He attempted to find a way to phrase the question without being crass. “Been working?”

  She dropped the tail of his shirt, which she’d been about to lift over his head, and shifted away from him. “Why do you care?”

  Suspicion tinged her voice. He couldn’t tell if she doubted his sincerity, or simply thought no one cared. Sadness slowed his racing heart.

  She couldn’t have been much more than a girl when she’d started whoring. His sister might’ve ended up in a similar situation, if he hadn’t stepped in to take care of her after her worthless husband had died.

  Hank felt like a hypocrite, worrying about Maggie, while being perfectly willing to take the only thing this young woman believed she had to offer. Shame killed what remained of his desire. He reached down and drew up his trousers, then buttoned them.

  Her response, a sigh, was audible. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting dressed.”

  “Are you bashful?”

  “Not particularly.” But let her believe it, if it made her feel better. He fastened the buttons on his shirt. After pulling up his galluses, he felt around behind him on the bed for his coat.

  She gave an impatient little sigh. “If you prefer to be dressed while we couple, that’s fine with me.”

  He’d promised her a boon. Even if he hadn’t taken what she’d offered, he would honor their deal. “I want to show you something.”

  “Um...all right.”

  Hank smiled at her dry response. She imagined he meant some strange perversity, no doubt. He found the suitcase right where she’d said it would be. Her honesty, and her concern he believe in her honesty, touched him.

  After lifting the case to the bed, he unbuckled the straps and opened it. Her gasp sounded from his right. She was close enough, if he’d reached out, he could’ve encircled her waist and pulled her against him.

  Instead, he reached for one of the packages of cards his sister had carefully put together, tying them with ribbon. He knew exactly what was packed where, and he selected his favorite: a card featuring a large heart made from paper lace, carefully cut and colored. Maggie had described it to him and had guided his fingers over the intricate design. Beneath the heart in gilded lettering were the words, My Heart’s Desire. Inside was a verse he had dreamed up, something sufficiently romantic a woman would appreciate.

  He held out the card.

  “Oh, how beautiful.” Jolie’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she took it from him. Her awe and appreciation renewed the happiness he’d felt earlier.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Where did you get these?” In the dim room it was hard to tell, but it seemed Jolie was examining the card.

  Hank smiled proudly. “My sister Maggie designs them. Another woman helps her make them, and I sell them.”

  “I’ve never seen you selling cards around here.”

  “I just arrived earlier today.”

  “From where?”

  “The Town of Kansas, or Kansas City, as we prefer to call it.”

  She leaned over the suitcase. “You came all the way out here to sell cards?”

  “Some salesmen haul anvils all over the country.”

  “True enough,” she murmured, sounding amused.

  “I did come here to sell cards and hopefully gin up more orders, but I also came out because of the opportunity in silver.”

  “You’re a miner?”

  He chuckled. “A blind miner? Now that would be a first.”

  “You’re not planning to make a prospector out of Bear, are you?”

  Jolie had delightful sense of humor.

  “He can’t hold a pick and shovel, so I suppose that wouldn’t work.”

  “Then what?”

  “I hope to find someone who needs a grubstake, an investor.”

  “Hmm. If you’re wanting to invest in a mine, you should talk to our mayor, Mr. Hardt. He owns the largest silver mine in these parts. He’s allowed some of the townsfolk to invest. I heard the Fultons talking about it the last time I visited their store.”

  Hank closed the suitcase and secured the straps. This might be just the opportunity he was looking for. “Where can I find Mr. Hardt?”

  “He has an office downtown. You can’t miss it.”

  “Ah, but I guarantee you, I could miss it.”

  They both laughed.

  She walked away, and a moment later, she put his hat in his hand. Maybe she’d decided he had stayed long enough. Then she
curled her fingers around the crook of his arm. “I’ll show you where it is.”

  Hank couldn’t deny being tempted by the chance to spend time with her. More than her sweet smell intrigued him. However, her earlier comment had made it clear he wasn’t her top priority. “Didn’t you say you had to prepare for guests?”

  “They won’t arrive until eight, so I have time. Besides, you gave me a lovely Valentine card. I owe you a fair exchange.”

  Chapter 3

  Temperatures outside were still below freezing, but with so many newcomers crowding the street, the roads had been churned into mud. Cold as it was outside, Jolie was glad she’d offered to guide Hank over to Mr. Hardt’s office. She was enjoying his company.

  She still didn’t understand why he’d given her one of his Valentine cards. They were valuable. His inventory, he said. He made his living selling them. Why would he give one away for nothing in return? Somehow, she would make it up to him. First, she’d lead him to where he needed to go, so he could get there without landing face down in horseshit.

  She sidestepped a steaming pile, still hugging his arm. “Manure to your right.”

  His boots squished the mud as he moved to the left. He gripped his case with one hand, and with his other hand, held Bear’s leash.

  “We’ll reach the boardwalk soon. The businessmen in town paid for it to go as far as the corner, but not all the way to La Maison.”

  “Inconsiderate of them.”

  “They don’t take into account our needs,” she explained matter-of-factly. “For the most part, they ignore our existence, unless they’re customers. Actually, the customers ignore us too, if we happen to pass one on the street.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not really,” she lied. “It’s the way of things.”

  Hank’s dog stopped at the edge of the boardwalk. Hank gave him permission to go on, and he stepped up onto the boards, his toenails tapping. His master followed without missing his footing.

  Jolie shook her head, amazed, and peered up at him. “Is that dog guiding you?”

  Hank responded with a slow smile. “He helps me avoid pitfalls.”

  “I’ve never seen the like.”

  “Bear is special. The teachers at the school for the blind in St. Louis thought I’d lost my mind when I told them what he could do. They said it only works because I have limited vision.” He released a soft laugh. “Limited is right.”

  How bad was Hank’s condition? He didn’t have the blank, unfocused look she’d seen in the eyes of other blind men. “Can you see at all?”

  He turned his head at her question and seemed to look at her. “I can see the difference between light and dark, make out shapes and forms, and colors. But everything is blurred. It’s like looking through a glass window when rain is pouring down the panes.”

  What a striking image he’d painted, and heartbreaking. She tried to imagine how frustrating it would be. “I’d go mad.”

  “No, you’d do what you had to do.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You’re a survivor.”

  He observed a lot without his sight. He was also adept at steering the discussion back to her, which wasn’t what she wanted to talk about.

  She glanced across the street at an abandoned building where she and the other girls had lived for a short time during the Christmas season. They’d been evicted from La Maison, so the newly arrived mail-order brides would have a warm and pleasant place to stay until they were properly wed. Jolie still resented the fact she’d been swept aside like so much garbage.

  Hank didn’t treat her like she was dirt. Even when he’d put his clothes back on and decided he didn’t want to engage in sex, he was nice about it. And he didn’t act like he was embarrassed to be seen walking around with her.

  Two well-dressed women stood at the front door of the abandoned building and appeared to be unlocking it. Jolie recognized one of them, the preacher’s new wife, a crusading do-gooder, but the other lady she didn’t know. What were those two doing over there?

  When the women glanced over their shoulders, Jolie pasted on a smile and tightened her hold on Hank’s arm. See, you two gawkers? I can get a handsome man too.

  Hank glanced at her questioningly. Then he stumbled.

  Jolie caught him by the arm and held him up long enough for him to get his foot in front him and regain his balance. He’d let go of the dog’s leash, rather than pull Bear into the mud with him. The big dog circled back, and whined and sniffed, no doubt making sure his master was all right.

  “Missed that hole,” Hank mumbled. There was no hole. He groped for the dog’s leash and she guided his hand to it.

  Bear’s sad brown eyes seemed to accuse her.

  She felt horrid for distracting him, and for such a petty reason. She’d been parading him around, acting like she owned him. He’d only accepted her help because he needed someone to direct him. He hadn’t even been interested enough to finish their business, and he didn’t even know what she looked like. How disappointed he would be if he could see her clearly, rather than through a watery curtain.

  She would get him safely to his destination, then she would leave him be. Being seen with her wouldn’t help him establish a good reputation in town. The sooner she was out of his way, the better.

  At the corner, she tightened her grip on his arm and halted. “Let’s wait here until we have a clear path to cross the street. There’s too much traffic.”

  Hank waited, apparently willing to take her at her word, but his tight-knuckled grip on Bear’s leash implied he’d lost a bit of trust in her. She wanted to kick herself again.

  After they’d crossed, she led him into the heart of town. Bear deftly avoided obstacles and cleared a path through the crowd. Even the most hardened miners gave the large dog a wide berth and eyed it as if they expected to be eaten.

  “You should see the men jumping to get out of the way,” she said in a low voice.

  Hank’s expression turned wry. “That might be the same fellows who packed me off to La Maison to get rid of me. They didn’t much care for me having my dog in the saloon.”

  “Are you kidding? Woody brings in his chickens, and the Thorntons’ goose follows them in there. Anyone who has a dog takes it along.”

  “Are any of the other dogs as big as Bear?”

  “Not that I know of.” Jolie smiled to herself as she imagined the miners’ reactions. “They’re a bunch of sissies. Zeke Kinnison used to dress in bearskins and scare the bejesus out of folks until he took a wife. Then he cleaned up and I haven’t seen him since. I suspect once the newness wears off, he’ll be back.”

  “He won’t if he’s happily married.”

  She huffed in disbelief. “There’s no such thing as that happily married.”

  “You only see the ones who aren’t.”

  Was Hank being argumentative because he secretly despised what she did? Maybe he had a double standard too, and she just hadn’t picked up on it.

  “Cobb’s Penn Dry Goods is on your left. You might stop in later and see if Liam Fulton wants to purchase any of those cards. He carries nice things like that. I like shopping there.”

  “Is that where you get your perfume?”

  Jolie looked up sharply. Hank had noticed? “Yes. It’s imported.” She paid dearly for it, but it was worth every penny.

  “I like it.”

  Her heart swelled at the compliment, but she immediately brushed off the ridiculous sentiment. Really, she was getting all worked up over nothing. So what if he liked an expensive fragrance? Who wouldn’t?

  “We’re passing Sheridan’s Hardware now. That’s where the miners buy most of their supplies. Next is Mr. Hardt’s office.” She read the sign on the door: “Noelle Mining and Smelter. Mr. Hardt runs it; he’s also our mayor, and owns most of the real estate in town—including La Maison. He’s not uppity like a lot of rich men. Just explain what you want, and ask if he’ll let you invest.”

  Han
k’s chest expanded as if he’d taken in a deep breath.

  “Nervous?”

  “Does it show?”

  “No, I just guessed.” He didn’t actually appear all that nervous; she could just feel it. Odd, she didn’t generally pick up on people’s emotions, mostly because she didn’t care. “You look determined.”

  “I am.” He set down the case that held his cards. “The reason I came out here, is I want to give my sister a better life...or better than what I can provide selling the cards she makes. If I’m able to get in on a venture like this silver mine, it’ll change everything.”

  And it would give him back his pride. That’s what he didn’t say, although he didn’t have to put the sentiment into words for her to understand. She knew all about pride. In her case, having too much of it. She also knew better than to get too interested in Hank Donovan. That wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  She let go of his arm and took a step back. “You’re a good salesman, I’m sure you’ll get what you want. Best of luck, and thank you for the card.”

  “Hey, wait...I’m not saying goodbye yet.” He reached out for her, and the gesture tugged at Jolie’s heart, as if he’d put a leash on that too.

  Alarmed, she stepped backwards. “I am.”

  ***

  Jolie’s rapid steps faded. She’d gotten him to his destination, and though they’d been having a pleasant conversation, she just...well, she’d run away. He hadn’t really expected her to accompany him inside, so he shouldn’t be disappointed, and she had told him she was busy, so why should it matter she’d left so abruptly?

  When Bear pulled in the direction she’d gone, Hank knelt beside him and stroked the dog’s head. “I know you like her, I do too, but we can’t go after her. She’s got other concerns.”