Chasing Rainbows Read online

  “Why don’t we see about getting a room for the night,” Jake said, stopping in front of a two-story hotel with a fancy balcony, tall windows, and an ornamental pediment above the broad front door. They dismounted, looped their reins over the hitching post, and went inside. The interior was even more impressive than the exterior. A grand carpeted staircase led to the upstairs rooms and divided the main level into two sections. To the left was the registration desk, to the right was a large public meeting room. The meeting room was tastefully furnished with graceful curved settees, calico curtains, an assortment of colorful rag rugs, and a mammoth stone fireplace, in which a huge fire brightly blazed.

  A young, thin clerk sat at the registration desk working numbers in a ledger. His sleeves were rolled up and meticulously secured with a pair of black garters. He wore a visor on his brow and a pair of thin gold spectacles on his nose. A steamy cup of cinnamon tea sat at his elbow. Upon hearing their approach, he rose and offered them a polite if perfunctory smile. If he was at all disapproving of their travel-weary attire, or the fact that they were only requesting one room and not two, it didn’t show. They secured their room with no difficulty and pocketed their key.

  “If you want to get that trail dust off you, there’s a public bathhouse just two streets over,” he informed them. “Easiest way to get there is just to cut through the alley out back. Ladies’ building is on the left, men’s on the right. Barber I’d recommend is Tom Moss, down by the leather goods store. Keeps his blades fine and sharp; never nicked me once. As for your horses, you probably saw the stable when you rode in.”

  Jake thanked the boy and handed him a two-bit piece. They left the hotel and returned to the hitching post to see to their horses. As they did, the stage thundered into town. The driver reined his team to a stop in front of the hotel. The driver’s assistant leapt down, pulled out the folded steps, and flung open the passenger door. The arrival of a stage was a big event in any Western town, for it brought mail, catalog-ordered goods, and new faces to town. Like most others on the street, Annie and Jake stopped to watch the proceedings as the passengers filed out.

  One man in particular caught Annie’s attention. He was of medium build and height, dressed in a dapper three-piece navy striped suit and broad-brimmed hat. There was nothing at all remarkable about him other than the fact that he looked vaguely familiar. She watched as he rather fussily brushed the dust from his leather suitcase with a handkerchief.

  “Jake,” she said after a minute, “isn’t that that reporter fella? That what’s his name — Vannert?”

  Jake leaned back against the hotel column and folded his arms across his chest, studying the reporter curiously. “VanEste.”

  “Right.”

  Apparently satisfied that the bulk of the travel dust had been removed from his luggage, VanEste lifted the case and headed straight for the hotel. He glanced up and stopped short upon seeing them but quickly recovered.

  “Well, Mr. Moran, Miss Foster,” he greeted them jovially. He set down his luggage and politely tipped his hat. “This is quite fortuitous, is it not? It appears as though providence has brought us together once again.”

  “Appears to me that it was the stage that brought you,” Jake replied.

  Peyton VanEste bowed good humoredly. “Quite so, sir. That, and a bit of luck on my part.”

  “You wouldn’t be following us, would you, VanEste?”

  “Perhaps the two of you are following me — you just took a quicker route,” VanEste replied smoothly, sending Annie a dramatic wink. Then he continued brightly, “The fact is, Mr. Moran, I’ve come to experience Abundance, Colorado, for myself. My writing covers towns of the West, not just the people. On occasion, towns can have almost as much character as the people who build them. Rumor has it that Abundance will be the next Sutter’s Mill. I hear tales of silver pouring in from the mountains like rain falling into a barrel. It’s said that any man who can carry a bucket and a shovel and stake a claim will make his fortune within a week. Naturally this is a story my readers back East want to hear.”

  “Naturally,” Jake replied.

  VanEste turned his attention to Annie. “You’re looking well, Miss Foster.”

  “Thank you, Mr. VanEste.”

  “I wired my editor at The Gazette that we had met but that you had refused to grant me an interview. As you can imagine, he was quite disappointed. Nearly cost me my job.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “But here we are, meeting again. As my sweet mother used to tell me, things always happen for a reason. Could the reason for this chance encounter be that you’ve reconsidered my request to hear all your exploits, Miss Foster?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  VanEste made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Such a shame. Well, perhaps another time. If you should change your mind, I’d be delighted to speak with you at any time. Good day to you both.” He tipped his hat once again, picked up his luggage, and strode briskly past them and into the hotel.

  “Why don’t you get settled in a bit, Annie?” Jake suggested once VanEste was out of earshot. “I’ve got some business to take care of this afternoon. I’ll meet you downstairs at seven for dinner.”

  “That sounds just fine,” she agreed, anxious to get a closer look at the town.

  “Good. Until then.” He swung onto Weed’s back and turned away, disappearing into the throngs on Silver Avenue.

  As Annie watched him ride away, her joy at having at last arrived in Abundance was suddenly diminished. She felt a strange, unfamiliar tightness settle in her throat. Better get used to that view, Annie girl, she told herself. After tomorrow, that’s exactly what you’ll see.

  Jake Moran riding out of your life.

  Jake’s first order of business was at the telegraph office. Fortunately he found no messages from Walter Pogue waiting for him. He nodded his thanks to the telegraph clerk and stepped out into the street.

  His second order of business was a bit more productive. He hadn’t missed the worry on Annie’s face as she’d asked him about her ugly calico gown. Her wardrobe would definitely need a bit of sprucing up before she took over at The Palace. With that in mind, he walked toward a shop whose discreet sign read simply: Miss Angelique’s Boutique. Finest Quality Fashions for Ladies. Ready-made and Custom Available. He stepped inside and found the shop empty. That suited him just fine. He needed at least one hour of Miss Angelique’s full time and attention.

  His purchases completed, he went back to the hotel, hoping to find Annie napping in bed — preferably dressed in nothing but her socks. After spending sixty minutes in a perfumed boutique poring over silks and satins, he was ready for a little more amorous sort of relaxation. Unfortunately Annie was out. He resigned himself to a visit to the bathhouse and barber instead, then returned to the hotel and changed.

  It wasn’t long before he felt the familiar pull of the saloon calling him. He crossed the street and entered Happy Tom’s, which looked to be one of the better establishments in town. He wasn’t disappointed. Rather than the sawdust floor he normally found in saloons out West, Happy Tom’s had a hardwood floor — maple, to be exact — and it was polished to a high sheen. The long mahogany bar looked fully stocked, the players were well dressed and orderly, and the waitresses were actually pretty.

  He took a seat at a table where a poker game was already in progress. The game progressed smoothly, with no big winners or losers. Just a group of men amiably passing away an idle afternoon. The talk drifted here and there, not settling on any one topic long enough to elicit more than a few light opinions.

  A waitress sashayed over and brought him his drink, bending down low enough to offer him a full and unobstructed view of her small, pert breasts. Jake prided himself on having a natural appreciation for all women, but if he did have a type, this barmaid was it. She was exactly the sort of woman he had grown to manhood with back in Louisiana. Tall and slim, with long willowy limbs, dusky skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a full-l
ipped smile that promised an enterprising knowledge of the many ways to please a man in bed. But there was a selfishness in that smile too, a selfishness that told Jake she could take care of her own sexual needs, that she would be using him as much as he was using her. That had always suited him just fine, excited him even. But looking at her now, he realized he was curiously devoid of any real interest.

  He suddenly came to a profound realization, one that was so simple it was almost embarrassing. It occurred to him that he didn’t want to spend the evening drinking too much bourbon, playing too many hands of cards, and bedding another saloon girl with flashing eyes, a pretty body, and a name he would forget within a week. He didn’t want to wake up the next morning, head to a different town, and do it all over again. The slick feel of a deck of cards in his hands, the soft clatter of poker chips, and the rowdy roar of a saloon weren’t enough for him anymore. The dull repetitiveness that had been his life had changed once he had met Annie, and he had no real desire to go back to the way things were.

  He had always harbored a vague notion that perhaps in a year or two, once the Reconstruction was over, he would go back home. But now he discarded that thought even as it occurred to him. No one in the South had any money, much less money to gamble with. Except, of course, the Yankee carpetbaggers who swarmed over the land like fleas. While there would be a certain satisfaction in cleaning them out, it was a petty sort of vengeance. The war was over, the South had lost, and it was done. As he had said last night, he had no desire to fight it all over again.

  No, his real home was in the West, and that was where he would stay. Once he had straightened out this mess with the Mundy Gang, he and Annie might even have a chance at something permanent. The thought of settling down with her in Cooperton rather than spending the remaining years of his life drifting from town to town held a surprising amount of appeal. He might be giving up a bit of his freedom, but it looked like he stood to gain a hell of a lot more in return.

  He set down his cards, collected his money, and nodded to the remaining men at the table. “Time for me to bow out, gentlemen.”

  A gray-haired man eyed him pleasantly. “Quitting while you’re ahead, sir?”

  “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Annie stood before the looking glass in her room, staring at her reflection with absolute amazement. The gown she wore was a rich, deep gold, made of the finest wool crepe she had ever seen. The skirt was full and generous, tightly fitted at her waist, then artfully split in the front to reveal an underskirt of pale-ivory damask. The bodice, made of the same ivory damask, fell from her shoulders in a deep scoop, revealing just a glimpse of the tops of her breasts. She wore a tightly fitted, cap-sleeved bolero jacket patterned in a gold-and-ivory stripe over the bodice. Long white gloves encased her hands and arms, and a matching gold-and-ivory-striped reticule dangled from her wrist.

  Behind her, Mary, the apprentice dressmaker from Miss Angelique’s who had accompanied the delivery, nervously cleared her throat. “Ma’am?” she said tentatively. “If you don’t like it…”

  Annie met Mary’s gaze in the mirror. The girl was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She had a round, sweet face and blue eyes that reflected both concern and worry as she looked at Annie. Annie realized then that she hadn’t been smiling when she looked in the mirror but simply studying herself in stunned disbelief. Obviously Mary had interpreted her silence as disapproval.

  “It’s beautiful,” Annie assured her sincerely. “It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

  Relief showed instantly on Mary’s face. “Your Mr. Moran has mighty fine taste. He only wanted to look at the best goods that Miss Angelique had.”

  Annie nodded, feeling a ridiculous thrill run through her at Mary’s reference to Jake as her Mr. Moran. She glanced at the boxes that were scattered haphazardly around the room, filled with a profusion of silks and cottons, wools and linens. She felt the same disbelief now as she had when the packages had been delivered to her hotel room door. Her initial reaction had been to insist that some mistake had been made. But Mary had insisted that “Mr. Moran ordered everything just for you. He asked me to stay and help you dress, to make sure you liked it all, and to see to any fittings that might be necessary.” A note tucked inside the first box Annie had opened affirmed the girl’s words. Thought you might like something else to wear besides your guns and your calico. J.

  Jake had sent her three gowns, all of them fine wool serges. There was the gold she currently wore, a gown of pale blue, and one of deep emerald. He had sent a riding ensemble as well, which consisted of a crisp white linen blouse, a navy wool jacket, and a matching navy skirt. She had also discovered two everyday skirts made from a fine, heavy cotton and four simple blouses. He had also purchased several sets of sheer cotton undergarments bedecked in ribbons and lace, stockings, and a rich chocolate-brown cloak trimmed in ermine. But her favorite item of all was the pair of ankle-high kidskin boots she currently wore. They were made of a rich buttery-brown leather embellished with a row of tiny pearl buttons that went all the way up to her ankles, and had little heels that clicked when she walked.

  Fortunately no elaborate fittings were necessary. The clothing was ready-made but had been ingeniously devised to tailor itself to fit several different body types. A drawstring hidden in the waistbands pulled the skirts in to fit Annie’s waistline perfectly. Tiny pleats set in the bodices worked to accommodate a variety of bustlines. As she was of average height, the hems needed no adjustment. Aside from realigning a button here and there, the clothing fit perfectly.

  “I didn’t know you could buy dresses like this ready-made,” Annie commented. “I thought they all had to be special-ordered back East.”

  “Not in these parts,” Mary replied proudly. “Miss Angelique’s pretty clever that way. When a miner strikes a vein, he and his wife want to look like they got money right away. They don’t want to wait three months to show off. That’s why Miss Angelique keeps as much as she can in stock.”

  “I see,” Annie murmured, turning back to study her reflection once again in the looking glass.

  Mary had even worked miracles with her hair, getting the thick, long strands to curl. She had brought a remarkable device with her, a narrow metal tube she set in the brick fireplace in the room to heat up. Once the device was hot, she wrapped a few strands of Annie’s hair around it, then let them go, to fall about her shoulders in thick spiral curls. Once her hairs was set, Mary piled the thick, golden curls high on Annie’s crown, allowing a few soft strands to escape and brush the nape of her neck and her shoulders. The overall effect was better than anything Annie had seen in Winston’s Guide.

  Annie lifted her hand and pinched her cheeks to put color in them, then realized that it wasn’t necessary. The eyes that stared back at her in the looking glass glistened with excitement, her cheeks were already flushed and rosy, as though blazing with an internal heat. She felt the same way now as she did the first time she had urged her horse into an all-out gallop. She felt as though she were flying, nervous and filled with giddy joy at the same time, wishing it would ever end.

  “Is there anything else you need, ma’am?”

  “No. Thank you, Mary. It’s beautiful. All of it.” She reached for her bag to fetch a coin for the girl.

  “No, ma’am, that’s all right, Mr. Moran has already seen to it. He’s a fine gentleman, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is,” Annie answered, stifling an inner sigh as she let Mary out. She supposed that was just something she would have to get used to. Women looked at Jake the way stray cats looked at dishes of cream. That was a fact that probably wouldn’t ever change.

  Once Mary had left, Annie lifted the small glass vial of French perfume Jake had sent with the clothing. She opened the bottle and breathed in the rich, heady scent, then dabbed the fragrance to her wrists, neck, and between her breasts. She glanced at her reflection one last time, trying to see herself as Jake would. But the woman looking
back at her was a stranger: a fine, fancy lady she didn’t recognize. A rush of insecurity suddenly filled her. Would Jake be disappointed in how she looked after all the trouble he’d gone to, to send her the clothing?

  Annie turned to Cat, who had watched her dress with undisguised curiosity, and decided to let her be the judge of things. She smoothed her skirts, turned and struck a ladylike pose. “What do you think, Cat? Do I look fine and upstanding, like Miss Annabel Lee Foster should, or am I just plain ol’ Outlaw Annie, fresh out of the tub and stuffed into a thirty-dollar dress?”

  Cat tilted her head to one side, as though giving Annie’s question the serious consideration it deserved, then let out a yawn and swished her tail.

  “You’re right. I reckon that’s not up to us to decide, is it?” Annie said. She crossed to the bed and stroked the soft, downy fur beneath Cat’s chin. “Be a good kitty,” she said. She lifted her reticule, folded her new brown cloak over her arm, and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

  Annie made her way downstairs. She paused at the last step, using the extra height to scan the hotel’s public meeting parlor. The room was filled almost entirely with men. They lounged comfortably about on chairs and settees, smoking, talking, and drinking, giving the room an air of a private all-male club rather than a public parlor. She hesitated, uncomfortable descending into their midst. Her hand resting lightly on the rail, she scanned the room for Jake.

  Her eyes went to one man who was sitting alone on a settee, seemingly engrossed in his paper. His relaxed posture and long-limbed frame told her it was Jake, but his face was blocked by his newspaper. Annie took a step toward him, then hesitated, not wanting to enter the room and approach him for fear that she was mistaken.

  The man turned a page of his paper, and as though suddenly alerted to her presence by the silent hush that had fallen over the room, he looked up. Annie breathed a sigh of relief — it was Jake. His eyes scanned the room, then went directly to her. A shocked, frozen expression carved itself onto his features. His gaze traveled slowly from the tips of her shiny new boots to the top of her curled, gloriously swept-up hair. Uncertain what to do or say, she returned his gaze with a soft, hesitant smile.