Chasing Rainbows Read online

  She had had every sign in the world that she would more likely find a brothel than a hotel, but she had stubbornly ignored them all. First there was the type of man J. D. Thomas had been: loud and boorish, not the sort who would run a fine resort. Then there was the reaction of Marshal Locke and his men when she had mentioned The Palace. All of them had looked as sheepish, embarrassed, and guilty as ten-year-old boys caught smoking behind a barn. Finally there was the condition of the flyer, which indicated that it had been printed years ago. Even the most feebleminded fool might have assumed that the hotel had undergone some changes over the passing years. But all that hindsight and self-recrimination did her absolutely no good now.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  Jake stepped behind the bar, lifted a whiskey bottle and took a sniff of the contents, then set it down in disgust. “Burning the place down would probably be most expedient.”

  “Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

  He shrugged. “What do you want me to say, darlin’?”

  “All right.” Annie placed her hands on her hips and sent him a pleasant if strained smile. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you’ve been acting like such a pig-skinned, stony-faced, mule-headed jackass ever since we left Abundance?”

  He studied her for a moment in silence. He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone held the chilling warning of a rattlesnake shaking its tail. “You don’t want to start this, Annie.”

  “Like hell, I don’t. If something’s wrong, tell me what it is. You owe me at least that much.”

  “I don’t owe you a damned thing, darlin’.”

  Annie couldn’t have been any more shocked had he slapped her. It wasn’t the words that stunned her as much as the way they were spoken. He sounded entirely matter-of-fact, looking right through her, as though she were a bothersome stranger begging on the street.

  She swallowed hard, uncertain how to react to his ugly mood. “I don’t know why you’re acting this way, but I swear—”

  “If you had one good point, Annie, it was that you never lied to me.” He paused, then continued with a bitter smile, “At least, not directly. Why don’t we try to keep it at that?”

  Understanding finally dawned on her. “You think I knew all along what sort of place The Palace really was, don’t you? I didn’t know, Jake, I swear it.” She looked around the room, feeling absolute despair. “If I had known…” she began but let the words dwindle off. If she had known, what would she have done? The question was too large for her to come up with a quick answer.

  Jake leaned back against the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “I find this very tedious, don’t you?”

  He was bored, Annie recognized with a start. Her world was falling apart and Jake was bored. He was looking at her with the pained, impatient expression of a man forced to sit through the last act of a very stale comedy. That’s all she had been to him, she realized — a mildly amusing distraction that had come to a dull, rather predictable end.

  “Why don’t you go straight to hell, Jake Moran?” she said, finally channeling her shock and pain into fury. “You don’t want to stay, get out now. I mean it. Get the hell out of here.”

  Jake regarded her through flat, cool eyes. “How convenient. But you’re forgetting one little thing. You owe me five hundred dollars for burning down the town hall in Two River Flats. Or did you think last night was payment in full? It was nice, Annie, but it wasn’t five hundred dollars nice. I’ve had that before; I know the difference.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “You son of a bitch.”

  The thick silence mat fell between them was broken by a stranger’s voice. “You folks want to fight, take it outside. We don’t open until six.”

  Annie turned to see a woman in her late thirties standing on the stair landing. She was dressed in a tattered purple robe. Her face was attractive but hard, her curvy body rather loose and flabby. Her coarse blond hair was streaked with gray, and her skin was blotched from too much drinking and not enough sleep. She might once have been attractive, but she had obviously let herself go. She faced them now with her bare feet planted firmly on the stairs and a Sharps buffalo rifle in her hands.

  “Who are you?” Annie asked.

  “My name is Dora and I run the place.” the woman answered. “Now, this here’s private property, and if you folks don’t get out, I’ll send you out myself—” she warned, ominously lifting the ancient carbine.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Annie said.

  “You leaving?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Annie tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “My name is Miss Annabel Foster. I’m the new owner.”

  The woman’s expression didn’t change one iota as she slowly looked Annie up and down. Finally she shook her head and set down the rifle. She pulled a thin cigar from the pocket of her robe, lit it, then blew out a long stream of smoke. “Well, I’ll be damned. Outlaw Annie. J. D. wrote us that you were coming.”

  Choosing to interpret her words as ones of welcome, Annie sent Dora a hesitant smile. “So,” she said, her tone overly bright, “this is The Palace.”

  “Is it everything J. D. promised it would be?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause J.D. Thomas ain’t nothing but an ornery, cheating, thieving, lying sack of shit.”

  Annie blinked. “Oh.”

  “Like most men I ever met,” Dora huffed, then she glanced over at Jake. “No offense, mister.”

  “Actually,” Annie put in, deciding right then and there that she liked the woman, “I think you’re a remarkably good judge of character.”

  “That so? Well, then, I guess there’s only one thing left to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  Dora cracked a wry grin. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Annie spent her first night in Cooperton by herself, bawling her eyes out. She felt ridiculous doing it, but she couldn’t stop. She cried at her inability to master her emotions as well as her inability to control her life. She cried at Jake’s cool indifference to her plight, at J.D. Thomas for lying to her, and at Pete for starting the Mundy Gang in the first place. She cried because The Palace Hotel was nothing but a decrepit, broken-down old whorehouse. But most of all, she cried herself to sleep because the whole day had turned out to be miserable when it should have been the best goddamned day of her entire life.

  As silly as her crying jag had felt, it proved to be strangely productive. When she woke the next morning, Annie felt utterly calm and determined. She rose and washed her face, hoping her puffy eyes wouldn’t be too noticeable. Then she dressed in one of the plain, serviceable blouses and skirts that Jake had purchased for her and headed downstairs. Of the women who lived and worked at The Palace, Annie had only met Dora. She simply hadn’t been up to any more yesterday. She had asked Dora to show her to a room and had retired.

  Annie had no idea where Jake had spent the night. She assumed he had taken a room somewhere in the hotel, for the sound of his voice had occasionally drifted up toward her bedchamber, making her feel even more miserable and alone. She could also make a reasonably intelligent guess as to what went on in the parlor of The Palace while she was locked away in her self-imposed exile. The constant ringing of the cowbell above the front door, followed by the sound of loud male voices and boots stomping upstairs, told her that it had been business as usual.

  But that was yesterday, Annie thought, stiffening her spine with firm determination. Today was a new day.

  She surveyed the five women who sat in a semicircle before her in the dank, musty parlor. It had taken Dora a full thirty minutes to rouse them from their beds and herd them downstairs. The women sat before her in various states of undress, wearing flimsy lace corsets, gauzy robes, and thick wool stockings. They looked tousled from sleep but sharp-eyed and attentive nonetheless. They studied her with expressions varying from
open curiosity to cool distrust. Annie eyed the women one by one, sizing them up. If she could manage one of the territory’s most ruthless outlaw gangs, she figured she could manage a group of women living in a dilapidated brothel. She introduced herself and Jake, then asked them to do the same.

  Dora was the oldest and clearly the leader of the group. Next came Belle, a woman in her mid-twenties who had blue eyes, blond hair, plump cheeks, and a generous figure. She seemed jolly and good-natured if somewhat chatty. In contrast, Jennie Mae was quiet and shy and looked just barely old enough to be out of the schoolroom. She had a sweet face and a round, obviously pregnant belly. Carlotta was Mexican, small but endowed with ample, rounded curves, wavy black hair, and the dark, flashing eyes of a seductress. Of all the women present, she wore the least clothing. Francine introduced herself last. She had brown hair and pretty green eyes and projected the proper refined look of a rancher’s wife. Despite her appearance, an air of sadness and shame seemed to cling to her. She reminded Annie of river stone — attractive but worn down by time.

  Their introductions complete, Dora took charge of the meeting, as was apparently her custom. “We’ve been running the place by our own rules ever since J.D. took off,” she informed Annie. “Things have been working just fine by us, and we figure to keep things going just the way they are.”

  Annie eyed the women coolly, her gaze moving from face to face. “I see.”

  Jennie Mae and Belle both averted their eyes, clearly adverse to either a fight or an open challenge. Francine looked worried but not openly hostile. Carlotta smiled and arched one brow, as though daring her to disagree. Dora looked simply matter-of-fact, as though negotiating water rights at a well rather than the rights of working girls at a brothel.

  “Would you mind telling me what these rules are that have been working so well?” Annie asked.

  “We get at least one night off a week,” Dora began. “No more than four different men per girl per night, no matter how crowded the place is. We want the right to refuse any customer, even if he’s paying, and that includes serving him too much liquor. We charge three dollars a spin. J.D. used to take half, but we think it’s only fair to change that a little since we’re the one’s doing all the work. We want to keep two dollars for ourselves, to pay for clothes, shoes, and whatnot. And lastly this place is starting to look neglected. We want to hire a woman to come in and clean up, do laundry, and such, twice a month. We reckon we’ll split the cost of that right down the middle.”

  “Anything else?” Annie asked mildly.

  Dora cast a triumphant glance at the other women. “No, I suppose that’s it.”

  “All right, then, here’s my answer.” Annie smiled politely and looked the women straight on. “No.”

  Dora’s smile instantly faded. Her mouth drew tight and pinched, making her look older and harder than her years.

  “I told you she’d be no better than J.D.,” Carlotta said bitterly.

  A low, rebellious murmuring started among the women. From the corner of her eye, Annie saw Jake watching her, his expression conveying nothing but mild curiosity. Annie took a deep breath, hiding her nervousness. She had one chance, and this was it. If she was going to have any credibility at all, it was up to her to look competent and in control.

  “I heard you out. Now I’ll ask you to hear me out,” she said.

  “It doesn’t sound to me like we’ve got much say in this,” Dora replied, indignantly rising to her feet and wrapping her tattered robe about her frame.

  “Please,” Annie said. “Just hear me out.”

  Annie waited until Dora reluctantly resumed her seat, then began. “This place is mine now, and it’s all I have. I mean to make it my home. But I don’t plan on living in a brothel.”

  “So you’re kicking us out?” Jennie Mae asked in alarm, her hands moving protectively to her belly.

  “Not at all. Just the opposite, in fact. I’m asking you to stay — all of you.” Annie paused, making direct eye contact with each of the women seated before her.

  Dora sent her a cutting glance. “What are you offering, some charity home for wayward women?”

  “Not charity, Dora,” Annie replied. “I’ve never taken it myself, and I’m not about to dole it out. What I’m offering each of you is a job. J.D. told me this place was a hotel, and that’s what I intend to make it. It looks to me like this town could use something more than a few boarded-up rooms over a noisy saloon. But it’ll be work, there’s no question about it. Hard work. I’ll need someone to help me cook, to wait tables, clean, make the beds, keep the books, register guests, plant flowers and vegetables, keep a pen for chickens and pigs, do the marketing… well, you all get the idea. Food and board will be free, and I’ll pay you a fair wage besides.”

  Carlotta tossed her head. “What if we like the way we’re living now just fine?”

  Annie shrugged. “Fine by me. You just won’t do it here, that’s all. If that’s what you want, I reckon there’s plenty of cathouses that’ll be glad to have you.”

  “So you’re kicking us out?”

  “I’m letting you choose. I won’t judge any woman who does what she can to get by. You’re free to live your lives as you see fit. But I don’t intend to run a brothel. I want to make that clear right now.”

  “You make it sound like we can snap our fingers and change overnight,” Dora said. “It ain’t that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve been making our living flat backing for too long. The good folks around these parts know what we are, and they ain’t very forgiving, trust me. Even if we do gussy up the place, there’s no way we can change who and what we are. We’ll likely just make fools of ourselves trying. We’ll be about as welcome in town as a pack of rabid dogs at the preacher’s Sunday sermon.”

  So that was it. Annie studied the women with a new understanding. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to change, simply that they didn’t believe that they could. Hoping that she had read them accurately, she took a bold step, pushing her argument further then she normally would have dared.

  “So you’re going to let the opinions of a few snooty folks hold you down. You’re going to keep lying down for the miners and drunks in this town because that’s what folks expect of you.” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Or are you going to try and make something better of yourselves while you have a chance? Fact is,” Annie continued, firing all her guns at once, “I’ll bet that none of you really likes the way you’re making a living. If you did, you’d be doing it in one of those fancy houses out in Abundance or Denver City, not hiding out in some run-down shack in Cooperton.”

  The women looked stunned. They glanced at one another as though silently conferring, then their gazes moved to Dora. Dora nodded and straightened, looking uncomfortable but resigned. “If you’re gonna talk plain to us, I reckon we can talk plain to you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We all know who you are. Outlaw Annie. We know you run with the Mundy Gang. I reckon everybody in these parts knows that. If we agree to stay with you and try to turn this place around, how do we know we ain’t just getting ourselves in worse trouble? How do we know you ain’t just planning on turning this into an outlaw hideout? That being the case, it might just be best if we all packed up and left tonight.”

  “You have my word that that’s not what I aim to do. But since none of you knows me, I suppose that doesn’t mean very much,” Annie stated plainly. “You know who I am, you know what I’ve done, and you know my reputation. But that’s all in the past. My outlaw days are over, I’m telling you that straight. I’m starting new, and I’m offering you the same chance. I can’t promise anything but a lot of hard work. You want to go on whoring, you can head out tonight. You want to do something different with your life, you’re welcome to stay I suppose the rest is up to you.”

  Silence once again hung between them as the women absorbed her words. Annie could almost see their thoughts turning as
they mulled over her words. Dora once again assumed the role of leader of the group. “Will you excuse us a minute? I reckon we got some talking to do among ourselves.”

  Annie stood, feeling nothing but defeat. She had given it her best try, and she had lost, she could read it in their eyes. She nodded politely to the women and exited the room with Jake, shutting the parlor door behind them.

  She paced back and forth on the dilapidated porch, wound up as tightly as a cheap clock. She heard snatches of the women’s conversation but not a word of it sounded as though it was in her favor. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, Annie quit pacing and whirled around to look at Jake.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  Her eyes widened. “Whether they’re going to stay or not.”

  Jake hooked one boot over the bottom porch rail and watched an old man lead a mule down the muddy street. “I have no idea,” he replied. He sounded about as interested as if she had asked him to guess the mule’s name.

  Annie bit back the sharp retort that sprang to her lips and resumed her pacing. There would be plenty of time to pick a fight with Jake later.

  The front door opened, and Dora poked her head outside. “Miss Annie?”

  Annie turned sharply. “Yes?”

  “We got our answer.”

  Her voice held no promise. Annie’s heart sank, then resolution set in. She lifted her chin, determined not to let his dismay show. If the women deserted her, she would find some way to make the hotel work on her own. Her pride was about the only thing she had left in the world, and she damned sure wasn’t about to let anybody take that away. She resumed her seat and waited for Dora to speak, her heart pounding in her chest.