CHAPTER ONE
Ironwood, Wyoming
November, 1877
When Pearl were little, her mother would seat her on the edge of her dressing table as she applied her stage makeup. The heat from the candles lighting the mirror would burn Pearl’s back as her mother lined her eyes in kohl and rouged her cheeks a pinky-red. When it was her mother’s turn on stage, Pearl would watch wide-eyed from the wings while she performed and know one day, it would be her on the stage.
She’d never thought it would be in Ironwood, Wyoming.
In Chicago, she’d started as a chorus girl, and then an understudy, but it wasn’t until Alice Reynolds, a girl who’d worked in the same theatre as her but who’d married and then been widowed by some trapper in a wild west town, that she’d headlined a show. Alice’s Spectacular at the Diamond Saloon and Theatre drew patrons from miles around, and the event had made Pearl a beloved star.
Alice, though, had left Ironwood and America for Paris with her new husband to live her dream and build a theatre to produce spectaculars for a Parisian crowd. While she was gone, she’d entrusted Pearl to direct the theatre and run the saloon. Which was why Pearl was now staring down at ledgers and accounts, wondering how the hell it was she was doing paperwork when all she’d ever really wanted to do was perform.
With a sigh, she capped the fancy fountain pen Alice had gifted her four Christmases ago, placing it carefully on the desk before stretching her arms above her head. Idly, she glanced toward the window but being as Alice’s office was on the second floor, she couldn’t see much more than the early evening sky.
Her gaze snagged on the Christmas tree she’d put up not a week ago in the corner of the office. Perhaps it was too early, seeing as it was not even past the middle of November, but she’d always loved the sparkle of Christmas, and, well, there was no one to tell her no, was there? Adorned in tinsel and the baubles she’d brought from Chicago, as well as those she’d purchased since arriving in Ironwood from catalogues and her infrequent trips to San Francisco, the tree glinted in the light from the fire and the lamp on her desk.
Christmas when she’d been little had been her mother and her in their tiny room, decorating a spindly tree with the newest bauble Pearl had bought by saving pennies she’d found on the floor of the theatre and then sharing a Christmas cake in the glow of the fire.
A feeling almost forlorn coursed through her, the glint of the tinsel almost hypnotic. The closest thing she had to a family were residing in Paris, France, and didn’t seem set to return to Ironwood for some time and certainly not for Christmas. From Alice’s last letter, it appeared her new theatre, entitled with some frou-frou French name Pearl could never remember, had become something of a sensation, and the premiere of her upcoming stage show sat poised to set the grand city alight with a promising kind of blaze. This one she did know the name of—The Saloon Girl, based in part on Pearl’s own life. Or, she supposed it was. Judging by what Alice had told her of the show, it seemed mighty close to the path Pearl had trod.
Wrapping her woollen shawl about her a little tighter, Pearl glanced back at the ledger before her. She had no notion how Alice had gotten through all this paperwork with her sane mind intact.
“Miss Pearl!” Billy skidded into the room, his eyes almost comically wide. “There’s trouble downstairs!”
With Billy, trouble could be anything from Simon had spilled some bourbon while pouring a patron a drink to an all-out fist fight, but she knew from experience not to question the boy. His explanation could be even more convoluted. “I’ll be right down, Billy.”
He nodded vigorously and then scurried from the room.
Pearl rose at a more sedate pace, removing the woollen shawl and adjusting her bodice. Alice had always worn black—the Widow Reynolds a character Alice had donned as much as any Pearl had in on the stage in Chicago—and Pearl saw no reason to follow a different path. Always on the floor she were Pearl la Monte, Famous Opera Singer, with her scarlet red hair and low-cut, jewelled coloured gowns. Right now, though, she dearly wished her dress didn’t expose so much of her chest, but maybe it was it would be warmer on occasion of those occupying the floor below.
As she stepped foot on the mezzanine, Pearl raised her brows. The floor Diamond were busier than she would have expected for a frigid November evening, and with a crowd skewing to a more male clientele than were usual. Most times, the Diamond were full of both men and women, and not just those that were employed for the theatre. Ironwood had become more civilised since first she’d come, such that the town were almost roughly split with males and females, and that meant the Diamond were too.
This night, the gaming tables were full of patrons, laughing and shouting as they wagered on the turn of the dice or the spin of a wheel. Those that preferred cards sat at the baize-covered tables bought for that purpose, but more still lingered around the bar, drinking whiskey or beer or whatever other spirit took their fancy.
Split over two buildings, The Diamond housed the saloon and the World Famous theatre. Alice had fancified it over the years, with a great crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling of the saloon and its twin hanging in the theatre. The gaming tables were of a fine quality, the baize a vibrant green and lacking wear, while the chairs and tables around the saloon were solid oak. The brass sconce lamps glinted and gleamed, their light refracting through the best glassware you could get before it became crystal. The Diamond catered to a certain level of patron, and everyone knew if they wanted a raucous sort of entertainment, they could find it in any one of the number of other establishments in Ironwood that catered to a rougher kind of clientele.
So it were strange there was raucousness in the air, a crowd gathering to push and shove at each other. And it were stranger still that in the middle of throng, taunting those around him with a devil’s grin and an arrogant tongue, stood Jake Wade.
Halting her step, she frowned. It weren’t that she minded Jake Wade’s presence in the Diamond. While he had a particular cockiness which could be aggravating—and was clearly aggravating those about him now—he weren’t a bad sort. In fact, when he were in Ironwood, he livened up a dreary evening, even if the pleading to share her bed became more tiresome the longer his stay. And if he were too pushy and didn’t think to cease a romantic pursuit even after a lady had demurred, he weren’t mean about it. Pearl had had much worse in her lifetime, and she could well handle a pup like Jacob Wade. In any event, he was a newly minted US Marshall and spent more weeks than not in places that weren’t Ironwood, so it were no skin off her nose to endure some flirting when he was in town.
However, it were also true Jake Wade chased trouble wherever he went and she weren’t pleased he’d chosen to chase it in Alice’s saloon. Those around him looked to be issuing harsh words and tough looks, and Jake grinned through them, casting his arms wide and spilling whiskey on the expensive carpet Alice had purchased for both the saloon and the theatre.
Well, she really couldn’t have that. It would take an age to clean up the spillage, and it only a moment to stride his way. “Jake Wade. What are you doing causing trouble in the Diamond?”
Head jerking to her, his devilish grin curved further. “Miss Pearl, darlin’, it’s a delight to see you. I ain’t causing trouble, just having a slight disagreement, as it were.”
His dark eyes were brighter than usual, his black hair ruffled, and his words a tad slurred. Clear as day he’d consumed more alcohol than was wise. “You can take your disagreement somewhere other than the Diamond. I’ll not have trouble that I’ll need to explain to Mrs Reynolds upon her return.”
“You wouldn’t send me out in the cold, now, would you?”
“I would as it would sober you right up.” She shot him a look. “Although it seems you have enough stamina to stir up trouble.”
His grin took on a seductive slant. “Well now, Miss Pearl, why don’t you and I discuss my stamina someplace real quiet-like and private?”
The crowd had turned away during their conversation, so she counted her success in the fact oak chairs and tables weren’t going to be replaced this night. “Don’t start up with that again, Jacob Wade. My answer remains the same, and will not matter how often you ask it.” She ran her gaze over his rumpled clothing and the silver star pinned haphazardly to his leather vest. “Why are you even in Ironwood this time of year? Don’t you have the sense God gave you to know a blizzard could blow in more than like and you’ll be trapped here with the rest of us. You’re a marshall now, ain’t you? Shouldn’t you be doing marshall-like things? Ain’t the Kelly gang roaming these parts?”
The grin wiped from his face, and a sudden menance glinted in his dark eyes. “What do you be knowing of the Kelly gang? They ain’t been coming to Ironwood, have they?”
She sucked in her breath. “No, we ain’t seen them,” she said haltingly. “There’s posters all over, and Mr Deviln at the telegraph has been saying there’s been message after message about the reward for information. But they ain’t set foot in this town that I know of.”
“Good. I’ll be making sure it stays that way.” His grin made a sudden reappearance. “Now, Miss Pearl, why don’t you and me discuss your sleeping arrangements once more? I’m known to be excellent at keeping a bed warm and it’s mighty cold out there.”
Uncertainly made her chew her lip. She didn’t know what to think. She’d never seen him such, more dangerous man than charming boy, and then to switch back so effortlessly…maybe there were more to Jacob Wade than he let on.
Shaking herself, she scowled at his comment. “My sleeping arrangements are my own business and none of yours.” She signalled to Simon behind the bar, and before two moments had passed, the big man Alice had employed as her saloon muscle was by Pearl’s side. “Matthew here is going to escort you to your hotel, Mr Wade.”
“Aint’ staying at a hotel, Miss Pearl, but your competitor’s down the road. Unless you’ve changed your mind about and you need someone to keep you warm of a night?”
Despite herself, she found herself fighting a grin. Affecting as stern a look as she could manage, she shook her head. “Go with Matthew, Mr Wade.”
“Only for you, Miss Pearl.”
She snorted. “More like for any woman who throws you half a kindness, I’d warrant.”
“Ah, Miss Pearl, maybe that is, but maybe also you should know I always do what I’m told.” His voice caressed each word, and she knew he weren’t talking about following direction only where others could see.
And because she had a bit of the devil in her as well, she couldn’t resist murmuring, “Good boy.”
His dark eyes flared. With one last devilish grin, he allowed Matthew to lead him from the saloon.
Finally allowing her own smile, she turned back to the floor.
Across the way, his foot propped on the bar’s rail, Ethan Garrett regarded her.
No expression crossed his stupid-handsome face and for such a big man, he blended into the background seamlessly.
Her smile dropped. Formerly Alice’s coal surveyor and now employed by the concern who’d bought her out, Garrett seemed to think he could come by Alice’s saloon on an almost daily basis and bedevil the hell out of her. Always looking at her with a too-serious gaze, always saying her name all polite-like and pretending he didn’t think evil thoughts behind his quiet, grass-green eyes. She knew he felt a disdain for her, and though he were no better than he ought to be, he still looked down upon her, as if she should feel shame for being who she was. She didn’t rightly know what it was he thought she should feel shame about, and she never took the time to find out. She were a singer in the World Famous Diamond Variety and Burlesque Spectacular, and the manager of the same along with its saloon. If Mr. Almighty Garrett wanted to look down his twice-broken nose at her, that was his business, and if he wanted to look all pretty with his grass-green eyes and blond hair, more luck to him. She certainly didn’t notice such, and it irritated her mightily when the Diamond’s girls sighed over his broad shoulders or fine behind. Not that she’d ever noticed. No, she’d only noticed how irritating he was, and how snide his expression.
It didn’t mean, however, she couldn’t have her fun.
Dropping her shoulder and cocking her hip, she sashayed to him and turned her smile to a particular kind of wicked. “Well now, if it ain’t Mr. Garrett, come all the way from his little shack on the outskirts of Ironwood. How lucky I am to be graced with his oh-so-desirable presence.”
He nodded his head politely in greeting. “Good evening, Miz Pearl.”
Goddamn, but the soft, deep voice saying her name set her teeth on edge even as it shivered along her skin.
His gaze travelled past her to the Diamond’s door. “Was that boy disrespecting you?”
Who was Garrett to call Jacob Wade a boy? Notwithstanding the fact that she herself occasionally thought of him as such, she retorted, “No more than any man who enters the Diamond.” No more than Garrett did, with his serious gaze and the weight of judgement.
Gaze falling back on her once more, he nodded.
A silence fell between them. Eyes locked, she counted the sharpness of his cheekbones, the strength in his jaw, the contrast of his soft mouth. It weren’t fair he were so pretty, a hard kind of handsome that appealed to her even as his disdain and judgement repelled her. She’d had enough of men who judged in Chicago, even as they wanted to charm her with trinkets and glittery things, as if her worth was counted in the fool’s gold they offered. Ironwood and Alice had given her a purpose, one beyond what had been offered in Chicago, and she didn’t need reminding of what she’d left behind. Even if she found herself wondering how his soft lips would yield if she crushed his mouth with hers.
A laugh pierced the air, and the sounds of the Diamond returned. She almost stumbled with the force of it, and then fought against the heat that rose from her chest and her cheeks.
Garrett seemed just as dazed, but his expression shuttered so quickly she had most like imagined it.
Inexplicably, a pain started in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rub it. “I’ll leave you to your contemplation, Garrett. Maybe it is something will bring you pleasure this evening, cos it sure as hell won’t be me.”
With that, she turned on her heel. She could feel his gaze burning into her back as she pushed through the crowd toward the staircase. Squaring her shoulders, she put a sway into her hip as she took each stair. If Garrett wanted to judge her, then she would act the coquette and he could judge her to his heart’s content.
Once she were back in the office, though, her shoulders slumped. Garrett spent too much time in her head, and she didn’t know why his clear disdain for her bothered her so. She didn’t care when other men had disapproved of her, so why did she care that he did?
The chill of the air registered and, throwing her shawl around her shoulders, she scowled. She would not think of him, not for the rest of the evening, and she certainly wouldn’t look for his big body the next time she took the floor.
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