Jolie- A Valentine's Day Bride Page 4

  Felice waved away the paper. “I don’t know how to read.”

  Many women didn’t. Being able to read was an advantage Jolie had over the others who might want to take her position. But what good would it do her if the town shut down the house, and those crusaders drove the prostitutes out? They’d have to start over somewhere else, and Jolie didn’t have enough saved. She’d reached the pinnacle of her profession as the madam of a fancy parlor house. Would she now be relegated to starting over as a working girl in some other madam’s parlor house, or worse, in a saloon?

  “We have to do something.”

  “Ask the men who are coming here tonight to help us,” Felice suggested. “Aren’t they rich and influential?”

  “And married, plus involved in politics. Richard Stiles and Solomon Sharp won’t risk their railroad jobs and their reputations for the likes of us. I’ll have to go to someone who doesn’t care what people think.” Jolie whirled about and held up her finger, inspired by the only idea she could come up with. “I know, I’ll ask Sheriff Draven. Pearl used to work here. He understands how it is. He’ll help us.”

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Hank left his room at the Golden Nugget, which had been miraculously provided due to Mr. Hardt’s influence. After locating the barber, he got a haircut and shave, and had requested an extra splash of cologne. He’d need all the help he could get, if he hoped to win over Ophelia Rathbone. That is, once he met her.

  Mr. Hardt had come by for a drink the previous evening and had issued an invitation for dinner the next day at his home up on the mountain. Charlie, as he’d insisted on being called, had even offered to come by in the wagon and give Hank a ride. The mayor was being so accommodating, Hank worried Miss Rathbone had a more serious defect than he’d originally imagined.

  “Can’t afford to be picky,” he said to Bear as they exited the barber’s shop. He stopped outside to get his bearings. Charlie had graciously described the layout of the town, explaining it in a way that made it easy for Hank to picture, and fortunately, he had excellent memory.

  Across the street, the sheriff’s office and jail, to the right of that, the dry goods and grocery store. Jolie had suggested the proprietor might be interested in Hank’s cards.

  Hank smelled tortillas cooking, which was an improvement over the ever-present odor of muck and manure. The delicious smell would be coming from Nacho’s diner, just beyond the barbershop. Further on to the left, the road split off and snaked through a small valley, which Hardt had called the entertainment district. Down that road were the brothels, the first and fanciest being La Maison.

  Hank lingered a moment, wondering what Jolie might be doing after spending an evening entertaining guests. He tamped down a flare of jealousy, which was absolutely absurd. She was a madam, a prostitute. Besides, she’d walked away from him, which as it turned out was for the better. She knew it as well as he did.

  “Hank!” Jolie called to him, as if he’d conjured her just by thinking of her.

  He jerked and saw a shape a moment before she flung her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was so stunned he just stood stock still, his senses awash in the sweet scent of orange blossoms.

  “Oh, it’s so good to see you! I needed to meet a friendly face this morning.”

  Hank retained his hold on Bear’s leash and on the handle of the case containing his cards. With both hands occupied, he had an excuse for not returning the hug, even though hugging her seemed a response as natural as breathing. But there was no telling who might be nearby, and what they’d report and to whom, so it wouldn’t be wise to add fuel to gossip that might circulate, ruining his chances to win a respectable bride and meet Mr. Hardt’s requirements.

  “Hank? What’s wrong?” Jolie’s arms slid away, leaving him feeling guilty and strangely bereft.

  “Nothing, you just surprised me. I didn’t expect you to be out this early.”

  “I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t in danger of losing my home!” Underlying her angry retort, he heard real fear.

  “Losing your home?” He set down his case and put his arm out, and she didn’t hesitate to come into his embrace. She put her head on his shoulder and her hands to his chest, seeking protection. At the moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to shelter her from harm. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Some meddling women are circulating a petition that calls for shutting down the brothels, starting with La Maison. From what I heard our customers say last night, they may succeed if they rally the other married ladies.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” Hank didn’t know what else to say. So that’s what the barber must’ve been talking about when he’d grumbled about interfering women. Hank had been more interested in gossip about the silver mine.

  The creak of wagon wheels came closer. Snatches of conversations drifted over when a door creaked opened and men exited the nearby diner, their voices fading to low murmurs as they walked in the other direction.

  Hank swallowed his nervousness. He longed to help Jolie, but what could he do? He had no influence in this town, and if he aligned himself behind her cause, he might as well kiss his chances of winning Miss Rathbone goodbye, along with his dream of investing in the town’s largest silver mine.

  She patted his chest. “You look very nice, and you smell nice. Were you on your way over to La Maison?”

  The thought had crossed his mind.

  “No, I was on my way to see if I could sell these cards to Mr. Fulton.”

  “Is that Liam’s favorite cologne?” Jolie teased.

  Guilt lashed Hank from all directions. He forced himself to let her go. “I wish I could help you.”

  Her head moved on his shoulder as she looked up at him. Although he couldn’t see her face, he suspected she was frowning with confusion at his mixed signals. She stepped back and cold air filled the vacant space between them. “No, I don’t expect that you could do anything. I’m on my way to see the sheriff. He has some influence with Mr. Hardt.”

  Her response slashed at Hank’s conscience more than his pride. He wasn’t surprised she’d flung that remark about his lack of importance in the community after he’d made it clear he wouldn’t help her. But she had no idea what had transpired since yesterday, and he had no desire to elaborate. On the other hand, he felt he owed her an explanation, simply because he’d led her to believe they could be friends.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your business.” She set off across the street before he could work up the courage to explain.

  Hank gave Bear a signal to follow her, and they trudged behind her through the mud. They had to cross the street anyway, because the general store was next to the sheriff’s office. With the aid of bright daylight, he could make out the shapes of buildings, and he could see Jolie’s small form a few feet ahead.

  Bear hesitated after they crossed the road, but Hank urged him on, not paying close attention, and tripped as his foot found the edge of the boardwalk. He managed to catch himself, fortunately.

  Jolie hadn’t stopped. Either she hadn’t seen him stumble, or she didn’t want him following her.

  “Sheriff Draven!” she called out. “Can I talk to you?”

  The person moving toward her appeared to be a big man. “You’re out early.”

  “Is everyone aware of my schedule?” Her curt reply sounded as if she’d directed it over her shoulder.

  Bear had continued to follow her, but then the dog suddenly stopped and growled.

  Hank froze. Bear only did that when danger threatened.

  The sound of another growl came from just beyond Jolie. Another dog? No, that was the man growling, the sheriff!

  Bear backed away and slunk behind Hank, to his utter astonishment.

  “Draven, stop baring your teeth and scaring poor Bear,” Jolie scolded the sheriff. “This is Hank Donovan. He’s a traveling salesman and he’s on his way to see Liam. Hank, this is Draven, our sheriff. He has a scar that cuts across his face an
d he’s missing one eye, and he looks terrifying. But he’s really a big softie.”

  “I’m not a softie. And that dog growled first,” the sheriff rumbled.

  “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.” Hank stepped forward and put his hand out. He figured he ought to get into the lawman’s good graces before he and Bear were both run out of town.

  The sheriff grunted a greeting and shook Hank’s hand. Bear came out from behind Hank’s leg with a low growl still rumbling in his throat.

  “Mind your manners.” Hank had to get firm with the dog. Bear was behaving like a child. Hopefully, the sheriff would start acting his age as well. “Shake. Shake the sheriff’s hand.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Draven’s inflection conveyed awe. He probably hadn’t expected the growling dog to sit down and placidly hold up his paw. Hank had worked hard to train Bear so that he’d be accepted and not feared, with the exception of those who sought to do Hank harm, and this sheriff didn’t appear to be among that ilk.

  “Take his paw, Draven. He won’t bite,” Jolie said in a laughing tone. “Pearl, come meet Bear!”

  Jolie introduced Bear to the other woman, who turned out to be the sheriff’s wife, and then introduced Hank. He clearly came second in her affections behind his dog.

  “What brings you out so early?” Pearl’s question was no doubt directed at Jolie. Hank smiled, imagining her reaction, and knowing the repeated greeting was rubbing thin.

  “Did you see the newspaper article yesterday?” Jolie asked. “The one about the petition to shut down the brothels, starting with La Maison?”

  “I did.” Pearl’s voice became solemn. “I showed it to Draven.”

  “That’s what happens when towns get civilized.” Draven’s tone implied he didn’t much care for the civilizing influences.

  “Sheriff, Mr. Hardt respects you. Will you talk to him and convince him to stop this?” Jolie continued.

  “Sure, I can talk to him, but he won’t stop it if his wife supports it.”

  “The article didn’t name Mrs. Hardt. It said Mrs. Hammond and some new woman in town, I think her name is Ophelia Rathbone, are behind the petition.”

  Hank’s breath caught. The woman Charlie wanted him to court was crusading to close down Jolie’s home and business? When Jolie found out he intended to court Ophelia, she would hate him with a passion.

  That may be, but he owed his sister a better life, and this was the only chance he’d get to do something about it. Now, he just had to be brave enough and considerate enough to tell Jolie. She deserved to hear it from him first. After tonight, word would spread fast.

  “Excuse me, Sheriff and Mrs.” He hadn’t been given their last name. “It was very nice to meet you. Jolie, may I have a word with you?”

  After a brief silence—he imagined she was surprised at the request—she bid her friends farewell, then took his arm and walked with him toward the store.

  With every step, Hank’s dread increased. “Can you find us a spot to have a private conversation?”

  “Go left into the alley between the buildings,” she suggested.

  He sent Bear into the dark space and after they’d gone a few steps, Jolie stopped him.

  “What is it, Hank? What’s wrong?”

  He set his case on the ground, took a deep breath, and began, “I met with Mr. Hardt yesterday.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Ah, well, as you said, he seems to be a fair-minded man. He told me he would consider allowing me to invest if I could meet three requirements.” Hank counted them off on his fingers. “One, settle here in Noelle. Two, maintain an upright reputation, and three—get married.”

  “Which means you need to stay away from me.” Her fingers squeezed his upper arm, then slid away. The hurt in her voice made the separation worse, and the fact she so willingly accepted his rejection made it even more so.

  “I’m sorry.” He’d managed two more words, now for the rest.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Hank. I knew you’d need to fit in with the Hardts and people like them, that’s why I walked away yesterday. I’m not the type of woman you escort around town.”

  He didn’t want her to think he considered her below other women. “I’d be proud to escort you, and it wouldn’t bother me a bit if I didn’t—”

  “If you didn’t have to meet those requirements. No need to explain. You must get in on that silver mine so you won’t have to worry about how you’ll support your sister. Maybe she and her family can move out here. That would be nice, wouldn’t it, being able to bring your family together?”

  The longing in Jolie’s voice tore at Hank’s heart. Where was her family? Had she been abandoned, abused, lured out West with promises...he’d heard all kinds of horror stories. This wasn’t the time to ask those questions, and knowing the answers wouldn’t make it easier for him to say what he had to say. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Mr. Hardt offered to introduce me to an available young lady who’s seeking a husband.”

  “She’s lucky.”

  “No. I’m lucky, if she—or any woman—will have me, considering my condition.”

  “And I stand by what I said. She’s lucky.”

  Jolie’s affirmation only twisted the knife she’d unknowingly slipped between his ribs when she’d encouraged him to marry and reunite his family. How could she be so kind and understanding, especially when he’d just confirmed what she thought, that she wasn’t worthy of him. Those were society’s perceptions, not his. But what good would it do to explain when it changed nothing, and only made him sound like a hypocrite?

  Hank took a deep breath. “The woman I’ll be meeting tonight...is Miss Ophelia Rathbone.”

  “What!” Jolie screeched. She recoiled as if he’d just announced he’d contracted a disease.

  He could plead for her understanding and forgiveness, yet she had no reason to offer it to him. “Apparently, Mr. Hardt is eager to see this young lady wed, and now it makes sense. I suspect it’s on account of her involvement in this cause, and she and Mrs. Hammond stirring things up. Maybe I can convince her to—”

  “Stay home and make babies? That’s a great idea, Hank. Good luck.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  Jolie whirled around and left the dark alley, bright daylight outlining her retreating form. Before she rounded the corner, she called out, “Liam Fulton’s store is on your left. When you enter, there’s a high threshold, so watch your step.”

  She was still concerned for his safety. Even after he’d told he would betray her in the worst possible way, by pursing her enemy.

  Guilt-stricken, Hank dropped to one knee and put his arm across Bear’s shoulders. The dog nosed him and whined. “I know, I want to go after her too, but we can’t.”

  He had to remember why he was doing this. His sister, his nephew and niece, they depended on him. He was doing the right thing.

  So why did he feel he’d just made the worst mistake of his life?

  ***

  Jolie ran without looking back. Even if she had looked back, Hank couldn’t see her well enough to see her tears. He couldn’t see the expression of shock and heartbreak she couldn’t keep off her face.

  She drew her scarf higher to block the cold wind. As much as she hated the thought of Hank marrying that Ophelia woman, she couldn’t despise him for it. He’d do what he had to do to secure his family’s future, just as she’d done what she had to do to survive.

  Not only that, but Hank was the marrying type. He was the kind of man who’d be faithful to his wife and kind to his children. He wasn’t the type of man who could love a woman like her. She’d known he wouldn’t be around for long, so she had only herself to blame for being foolish about him.

  “Jolie! Wait!”

  She heard the sound of crunching ice and turned to see Pearl, also bundled against the cold, coming from the sheriff’s office. “You left before I could tell you I’ll try to help.”

  Jolie dashed away her tears.
“Thank you.”

  Pearl’s china blue eyes widened with a look of astonishment, which didn’t surprise Jolie. Unlike most women, she didn’t break into tears over every little disappointment, because it was pointless. All those tears she’d shed four years ago had done her no good.

  Pearl’s startled expression melted into genuine concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Sweet, gentle Pearl. It was a good thing Draven had wed her. She wasn’t hardened enough to survive long-term in the business. Women engaged in prostitution didn’t have long life spans, and those like Pearl were chewed up and spit out faster than most.

  “What do you think is wrong? I’m worried we’ll be thrown out.”

  “That’s why you’re crying?”

  Turning to continue to the corner, Jolie tugged her hood down and brought the scarf up just below her eyes so her face wouldn’t be an open book. When had she gotten so bad at hiding her emotions? When she’d met Hank, that’s when. Somehow, he’d found an opening in her defenses and pried open her heart enough to gain her sympathy.

  Pearl slipped her arm through Jolie’s, slowing her down. “I can’t believe Mrs. Hardt would let them throw you out. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  “Misguided goodness can be just as cruel.”

  “I suspect this uproar will blow over.”

  “Not with those two crusaders running around stirring things up.” And Hank wanted to marry one of them! Actually, he hadn’t acted all that thrilled with the prospect. He’d been offered what he thought was his only chance to win a respectable bride.

  Would Ophelia find him pitiable? Jolie harrumphed. Any woman should consider herself fortunate to have Hank as her husband.