Rosie and Jim gathered their belongings and went to their own room to dress for the evening. While Sam bathed, Annie attended to her coiffure and changed into her gown.
Leaving the bathroom in his dressing gown, Sam whistled at the sight of Annie at the dressing table. She was perfection from crown to toe, and his hungry gaze drank her in. Her gorgeous hair was pulled back to one side and spilled in sausage curls onto a creamy shoulder, emphasizing every lovely contour of her face. The soft light shone on the pretty spray of flowers she'd pinned in her hair, illuminating the sculpted perfection of her high cheekbones, her dainty nose and wide mouth, and glittering on her rhinestone ear bobs. Her lovely complexion glowed even without rouge. Her smile highlighted lips as pink as rose petals and danced in eyes that had never appeared a more vivid blue, shaded by exquisitely long, dark lashes.
And her dress! Yards and yards of lustrous, gleaming sapphire blue satin turned the princess sitting before him into an enchantress beyond compare. The low neckline tantalized him with a glimpse of cleavage and a nice sweep of her lovely shoulders. Half sleeves edged with ecru lace trailed over her smooth arms. The folds of satin clung to her full bosom and molded down to her trim waist. From there her skirt spilled free and full, curling into a bustle at the back.
Sam had seen Annie in a dress before, but never had he seen this vision of celestial femininity. He had seen her as a feisty cowgirl and a modest preacher's wife, but now she was a lady beyond compare. Desire lanced him so powerfully, he wondered if they'd even make it out of the room together. They hadn't made love since they'd left Rowdyville, and he was starved for her.
"My God, sugar, I've never seen you look so gorgeous!"
Her demure expression only further stoked his passions. In a rustle of skirts, she stood and came to his side, eyeing him in his gray silk brocade dressing gown. She reached out, her fingertips tormenting the bare flesh beneath his lapel, and he narrowly resisted an urge to pick her up and fling her down on the bed, ruin that hair and shred her lovely gown to pieces. The heavenly scent of her—lavender soap and the unique aroma of a woman's flesh heating silk—rose to further torment him.
Her fingers trailed through his damp, curly hair and teased the cleft in his chin. He drew an agonized breath.
"You look pretty fetching yourself, cowboy," she purred. "I've missed being alone with you."
He hooked an arm about her slim waist, drew her close, and slowly kissed her. Damn, her lips had never tasted so soft and sweet! "At this rate, we'll never make it out the door tonight," he murmured huskily.
She slid away and shook a finger at him. "Oh, no you don't, Sam Noble! There will be plenty of time for mischief later on. We promised Rosie and Jim that we'd meet them in the lobby, and we aren't leaving them stranded."
"We could send down the tickets," he suggested.
"You mean you'd give up hearing Lillian Russell for me?"
He nodded solemnly.
Although her lovely eyes danced with delight, she shot him a saucy look. "Well, forget it. I want to go to the opera and sit in the governor's box."
He shouted with laughter. "Woman, you just broke my heart."
"Yeah, you sound really devastated," she teased. "Get dressed, cowboy."
Despite more grumbling, Sam did her bidding, and Annie admired him in his handsome black suit, red satin vest, and ruffled linen shirt with black string tie. They grabbed their gloves and his top hat and left the room together. When they walked downstairs into the lobby, Annie knew they made a splendid couple and she felt proud regarding all the heads they turned.
They found Rosie and Jim sitting on a posh velvet settee; both stood at their approach. Rosie looked beautiful in a gold satin gown fashioned very much like Annie's; she wore pearl jewelry and had styled her red-gold hair in loose curls about her shoulders. Jim still wore the frock coat and trousers Sam had lent him.
"My, don't you two look purty," Rosie crooned.
"You look wonderful yourself," Sam said gallantly.
"You sure do," Annie added, admiring Rosie in her gown.
"Shall we have dinner here before we leave?" Sam suggested. "The Windsor's dining room is world-class."
Rosie reached out to tap Sam's arm. "Heck, we're so hungry, we'd settle for a tough steak. Right, Jim?"
"Right," he answered, and everyone laughed.
Sam led them to the dining room on the second floor. At once a mustachioed maître d' stepped forward to greet them. "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen." His gaze paused on the two women. "Are we honored to have twin sisters among us tonight?"
Both women chortled, leaving the man flustered. "Yeah, we're twins," retorted Rosie. "She's Big Bertha and I'm the runt."
As the poor man's face turned scarlet, Sam said tactfully, "The ladies are sisters in a manner of speaking."
"Now, how 'bout showing us to the grub?" added Rosie.
"Yes, ma'am," answered the chagrinned man.
The maître d' seated them at a table set with the finest Old Paris china, Dorflinger crystal, Tiffany silver, and Belfast linen. A handsome, two-tiered brass-and-frosted-glass chandelier glittered above them, illuminating the lovely table. Annie mused that the magnificent room appeared more like a lavish Paris salon with its twenty-foot ceiling accented by a stunning gold frieze, its soaring windows with silk pouf shades, its diamond dust mirrors and handsome Wilton carpet.
While Annie discreetly eyed other elegantly dressed diners at nearby tables, Rosie struggled over the menu. At last she tossed it down in disgust and turned to Jim. "Honey, I'm plumb lost as a hog in a blizzard with all this highfalutin' French. You order for us, will you?"
"I'd be happy to," Jim replied.
Rosie glanced askance at the array of silverware surrounding her plate. "And you'll have to lairn me which fork to use and when. Hell, all I know is eatin' beans and bacon on a knife." As the others chuckled, Rosie grinned at Annie and Sam. "Jim was brought up decent. By the time we build us a grand mansion on Capitol Hill, he's gonna see I'm schooled in all the social graces. Ain't you, darlin'?"
"I like you just the way you are," he answered, "but if there's anything you'd like to learn, I'm here to teach you."
"You bet I'm just bustin' to lairn. And honey, I seed just where I want to build us our house today. Annie treated me to a trolley ride through the neighborhood. Precious, they got struttin' peacocks and fountains shootin' six-foot geysers."
Laughing with the others, Annie mused that these two intrepid souls might well be accepted into Denver's society. If Rosie gained a bit of refinement, she could avoid the trap of Molly Brown, who would be snubbed by Denver's uppercrust only ten years from now.
When the waiter appeared, Sam suggested Jim order for everyone. He proudly selected oyster soup, lobster thermidor, rice pilaf, green peas à la français, and champagne.
Over soup, Annie remarked to Jim, "I'm surprised that everything is coming back to you so well. To look at you, to hear you rattle off that order to the waiter, you'd never know you'd been through such an ordeal."
"I have the Cheyenne to thank for that," Jim said solemnly. "Although I was confused while among them, I realize now that my mind desperately needed that quiet, pastoral time to heal. I will never forget all your grandmother's people did for me, Sam. They are my friends, and I'll be indebted to them for the rest of my life. I will find a way to repay them, you may be sure."
"It's good of you to offer," replied Sam, "but I'm sure they don't expect nothin' from you."
"They are giving to us all," declared Jim, "by preserving a way of life the white man is trying to destroy, a way of life I want my children to appreciate."
"I'm with you there, precious," agreed Rosie.
"And we are greatly indebted to you and Annie, as well," Jim continued to Sam. "After I file my claim, we'll see you're suitably rewarded for helping us."
"We don't expect nothin'," protested Sam.
"Indeed not," seconded Annie. "We just want to see you and Rosie happy."
"Well, you already done that," piped in Rosie. "The gold is just icing on the cake, and we'd like to share it with you."
Annie glanced quizzically at Jim. "Are you certain you still remember where your claim is?"
"Oh, yes," he replied with a laugh. "The location is emblazoned on my brain. All I need to do is have a sample assayed in Central to prove I've discovered precious metal; then I can file a claim with the county recorder."
"We'll get you there," promised Sam. "It'll be the first thing we do when we get up to Central, even before we see Judge Righteous."
"Thanks, Sam." Jim lifted his champagne glass. "To Sam and Annie, for all your help and your faith in us."
Annie raised her glass. "And to Rosie and Jim—to your future happiness."
"To yours, honey," said Rosie feelingly. "Yours and Sam's."
The couples toasted each other and ate their succulent dinner. All were feeling slightly giddy by the time they emerged onto the front portico, where the doorman hailed them a hackney cab that bore them the several blocks to the Tabor Grand Opera House. They arrived mere minutes before the curtain was raised, and hastily took their places in the governor's box.
Annie was stunned by the opulence of the opera house. Their private stage box was on the grand tier, at the center of a whimsical, three-story arrangement of loges that culminated in a high, pointed roof and gave the apparatus the look of a tri-level gazebo. They sat on red velvet chairs overlooking the magnificent stage with its lavish oil painting mural over the proscenium. Many stories above them stretched an awe-inspiring ceiling with square after square of gilded plaster fretwork swirling about a huge circular mural of painted clouds.
Glancing down at the auditorium, Annie was enthralled by the lavish costumes of the gentlemen and ladies in the audience. She glimpsed more than a few sets of opera glasses focused on them. Of course they would seem a curiosity, she mused, since they occupied the governor's box.
She glanced at Rosie and Jim to gauge their reactions. Jim was calmly perusing the program and taking it all in stride; Rosie sat gaping at their surroundings with an open mouth. Annie restrained a chuckle.
"Enjoying this, sugar?" Sam asked.
Annie nodded happily. She glanced down at her program, headlined with the name of Lillian Russell. "I feel as if I'm living a moment of history."
Indeed, at the back of the program, Annie was delighted to read a short history of the opera house, built by Horace Tabor in 1881, and Denver itself, which had last year celebrated its first quarter century of existence. She read how Eugene Field had been present at the opening night of the opera house, how Denver had been visited by such notables as Walt Whitman, Oscar Wilde, Carry Nation, and Grand Duke Alexis of the famous Russian Romanov dynasty. She learned how the city had been built on the railroads, how scions like Horace Tabor, Henry Brown, Nathaniel Hill, and Walter Cheesman had brought commerce and respectability to the bustling community.
Annie enjoyed the sprightly music and melodramatic performances. Lillian Russell stole the show. The buxom blond beauty was perfect as the milkmaid Patience and delighted the audience with her brilliant soprano voice, her campy exploits lampooning the lovesick maidens, and her shameless flirtation with the two male leads.
Sam, Rosie, and Jim appeared to be every bit as captivated by the performance as she was. Rosie got so caught up in the melodramatics that by the second act, she was whistling and shouting encouragements to the people on the stage, prompting many a raised eyebrow from the other patrons. Several times, Annie had to cover her face with her program to hide her giggles. Later, everyone stood and cheered when Russell and the others made six curtain calls.
As the couples left the theater, Rosie remained agog. "I never heard such purty caterwaulin' in all my life," she declared to Annie. "I thought that woman was fixin' to bust her bodice."
"She definitely rattled the chandeliers," agreed Annie.
The foursome emerged into a cool, starry night to the soft gleam of the gaslights along Sixteenth Street. Rosie let out an exuberant whoop and tossed her program into the air. Wearing a grin, Jim went tearing off after it.
"Well, folks, I can't remember when I've shared a finer occasion," Rosie declared. Watching Jim approach with the retrieved program, she took it and purred, "Thanks, precious."
"You're welcome, ma'am," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You folks ready to return to the hotel?"
"Heck, the evening's still young," protested Sam. "What's say we go dancing on Larimer Street?"
Rosie pulled a face. "I told you fellars no detouring to the red-light district."
"But there should still be a respectable dance hall or two over on Larimer," argued Jim.
Rosie appeared skeptical. "I don't know—there's too many temptations in that part of town. The last time I was there, I think I spied the devil hisself strutting down the boardwalk."
While the men chuckled, Annie said wistfully, "I really would like to see what a nineteenth-century dance hall looks like."
Rosie waved a hand in acquiescence. "All right, then, if you folks is so set on it. But I'm warning you to be on your best behavior. I ain't aimin' to end up in jail for the night. I reckon that won't go down so good with the governor."
"Yes, ma'am," agreed Sam.
They stopped off at Gold Dust Sal's, a lavish dancing parlor where couples sashayed about to piano music on the ground floor and cardsharps fleeced wealthy miners and businessmen on the mezzanine above. Even as the foursome took a corner table, Rosie stared about suspiciously.
"I don't like the look of this place," she grumbled.
Annie glanced at the well-dressed dancers, the crystal chandeliers, the flocked red wallpaper, and the ornate mirrors over the bar. "Why not? It think it's perfectly charming."
Rosie harrumphed. "This ain't no place for decent folk to be seen."
A blond, buxom waitress in a sleazy gown strolled up to their table, sidling close to Jim and batting her eyelashes at him. Leaning toward him in a generous flash of cleavage, she purred, "Well, good evening, sir. What can I get you folks?"
Jim was about to open his mouth when abruptly, Rosie popped up. Features livid, she grabbed a handful of the woman's hair. As the waitress shrieked and cowered, she yelled, "Just what do you think you're doin', you cheap Cyprian, ogling my man!"
"Ma'am, I didn't do nothin'!" the woman wailed.
While Sam and Annie looked on in disbelief, Jim pleaded with his wife. "Sweetheart, please, I don't think the—er—lady meant any harm."
But Rosie didn't seem to hear him as she continued to lambast the waitress and yank on her hair. "Don't you lie to me, you two-bit line gal! You was making a play for my Jim!"
As scandalous murmurs sounded all around them, a tall, thin man with a mustache rushed up. "Ma'am, is there a problem?" he asked Rosie.
"Yeah, you bet your buttons." Rosie thrust the waitress away. Hurling Rosie a blistering look, the woman scrambled off. "That piece-of-trash hussy was making eyes at my husband."
The man appeared chagrined. "Well, ma'am, I'm sorry. I'll see that the bartender serves you."
"Yeah, see that he does." With a curt nod, Rosie sat down.
There was a moment of charged silence at the table. Struggling to keep a straight face, Annie cleared her throat and regarded Rosie's seething countenance. "Er—Rosie, don't you think you overreacted a bit?"
"What's that?" she demanded.
Sam laughed. "What Annie means is, you popped your cork when you shouldn't have."
Rosie's fist slammed down on the table. "You got no call to say that, bounty hunter! I told you we never should have come here. Now look what you folks made me do!"
"What we made you do?" exclaimed Annie.
"Yeah, you brung us to this Satan's lair," Rosie bristled.
By now, even Jim was fighting laughter. "Dear, I really don't think the waitress was trying to steal me away from you."
Rosie patted his hand. "There, there, precious. You only say that 'cause you're innocent as a lamb and you got only pure thoughts in that purty head of yours." She sneered at Sam. "Shame on you for exposin' my darlin' to such a bad girl."
Sam was shaking with mirth. "Yeah, and you've never been bad a day in your life, have you, Rosie?"
"You take that back!"
"Why should I?" Sam asked.
"'Cause there's a big damn difference between robbing banks and stages, shootin' at folks, and being a whore!"
Annie groaned and covered her face with her hands. She knew by all the gasps surrounding them that Rosie had mortified everyone by now.
At last she dared a glance at Sam and was amazed to find him sporting a quizzical frown as he faced down Rosie.
"You're right," he said at last. "I apologize, ma'am."
"Well, it's about time." Setting her jaw, Rosie sat back in her chair.
Another tense moment ticked by; then Jim cleared his throat and braved a smile at his wife. "Dear, would you care to dance?"
As if she hadn't just flown into a jealous snit, Rosie all but purred as she took her husband's arm. "Why, sure, precious. I thought you'd never ask."
And she sashayed off with him looking pleased as punch!
As soon as the two were out of earshot, Sam and Annie burst out laughing. "My heavens, Rosie was right!" Annie declared. "We never should have brought her here."
"I know—for a moment there I thought that bouncer was going to summon the sheriff," Sam put in.
"And she would have blamed us, too!"
Sam shook his head. "Jim is going to be in for one helluva adventure with that woman. Boy, does Rosie have a short fuse. No wonder you're so feisty, with her as an ancestor."
Annie's mouth fell open. "Now wait just a minute, Sam Noble. You can't make me responsible for this."
The two continued to banter playfully as Sam ordered champagne from the bartender. After they shared a glass, he asked Annie to dance. Hand in hand, they strolled to the dance floor. Annie gloried in her moments waltzing with him to the lovely, sentimental strains of "Sweet Genevieve." His arms felt so strong and warm about her, and he smelled so wonderful. As he glided her into a turn, she caught a glimpse of his face—his dark eyes gleaming, his lips lit in a tender smile, and she thought of how incredibly handsome he was, how lucky she was to have him . . . at least for now.
"I think this is the first time we've waltzed, cowboy."
"I've long anticipated the pleasure, ma'am."
"And you didn't even want to go out tonight."
"I couldn't wait to have you in my arms," he said, drawing her closer. "And now I've gotten my wish."
She sighed. Over his shoulder, she glimpsed Rosie and Jim kissing back at their table. "Thank God! Looks like Rosie is finally settling down."
"She has made the evening pretty lively."
"True, though she's taking her redemption very seriously. I do feel so good about all we've been able to accomplish for her and Jim." Annie felt her throat tightening. "Thank you for that, Sam," she said with heartfelt sincerity. "Thank you for believing in me, and for helping me help them."
"They're lucky to have you, Annie."
She pulled back slightly, staring up at him with love. "I'm lucky to have you, Sam. You've been a prince, and I'm really in your debt."
"A debt I'll be delighted to collect on, ma'am."
Annie stretched upward to kiss him. "When you do, cowboy, I'll be the one who's blessed."