CHAPTER 8

Stains.

Lizzie Jones had stared at the filthy sheet, at the red stain that stared back. The blood. Her blood.

She had thrown up. Her stomach hurt like the rest of her. She’d felt torn apart inside.

She had closed her eyes during most of it, had willed herself someplace else. But the pain had been awful, like a sword jammed inside her, and it kept bringing her back to her terrible reality.

She was supposed to have turned thirteen that day, her ma’s guess at her birthday. She’d never had a birthday before. And now this had been the first and only birthday gift she’d ever received.

She had known it was coming. She had seen the men looking at her, felt their hands taking squeezes on different parts of her body as she served drinks. And she’d heard about the bidding. She’d tried to run away then, but the sheriff, who was paid off by the madam, brought her back. She’d been locked in her room, the one window boarded over.

She had survived every attempt to prevent her live birth, and then almost total neglect as a child. Except that there had always been some softhearted whore who gave her some small care before disappearing. It had never been her ma.

Lizzie had been little more than a slave most of her young life. She’d never gone to school, had never realized there was another life beyond the one of noisy coupling and drunken fights and screaming arguments between the women. She had survived simply because she was basically too tough to die, but survive was all she did.

And then she started turning pretty, and her ma noticed her.

After that first time with a man, she had a room of her own, but she never got any of the money. Her ma took it, and Lizzie learned to shut off her mind when the men came. She thought about running away again, but then she remembered being dragged back by the sheriff and locked up. What would she do, anyway? Her ma kept telling her she was worthless, no good for anything except whoring.

So she pretended she was someplace else, that her body belonged to someone else. She’d seen a picture once of the sea, and she would picture that, because it looked so clean and pure. She thought of it all the time the men were at her.

And then James Cahoon started visiting on a regular basis. He seemed to have money, enough to visit her several times a week, anyway, and he made some attempt to be gentle. She was about fifteen when he asked her to run away with him, to become his wife. He said he would take care of her.

He loved her.

Hope found a place in her life. It was short-lived.…

Cat shook herself. No more past! She refused to remember that she had started life as Lizzie Jones, a miserable little river rat, then a whore.

The dog woke Marsh, and instinctively he reached for his gun, which was in a holster hung on the bedpost. He felt like a damned fool as light from the window shone only on the four-legged intruder.

He also felt a flash of apprehension. He must be getting older than he’d thought. He used to wake up at the slightest sound: the breaking of a twig, horses’ hooves against pine needles, the creaking of a floorboard.

Marsh glared at the dog, which glared right back. It was obvious the mutt was disgruntled, apparently by being crowded out last night. “Something you’ll have to get used to,” Marsh muttered, even as he wondered about his own sanity in talking to a damn dog.

A gnawing uncertainty ate at him. His hand took the pistol, cocked it, felt it, almost soothed it, seeking the familiarity that had made it one with himself. He couldn’t afford this kind of carelessness. No matter how far away he might travel, there were likely those with a grudge out there. Or even those seeking a reputation. They might find him.

Where had his edge gone, that split-second awareness of everything around him? Where were the skills he’d accumulated during three years with General Mosby scouting behind enemy lines, then perfected as a gun for hire?

He stretched, testing the muscles that were as taut as ever, and he sprang to his feet in one movement. He was naked, and he enjoyed the freedom of that nakedness. He hadn’t slept that way since he was a university student, not until he’d come to San Francisco. He’d never known when he might need to move quickly, and he’d often slept fully clothed. Now he reveled in this tiny bit of liberation. But he had to be careful and not be lulled into a false sense of security. There was no such thing for him. Never would be, which was why the unaccustomed heavy sleep worried him.

After closing up, except for leaving the window open for Winchester, he had gone to his room and fallen with exhaustion on the hard mattress.

But now sunlight dappled the floor of the room, meaning the sun was well above the horizon. Hugh should be here soon, preparing for another day. He heard a low growl and looked over at the dog.

Marsh had still not touched the animal, but he had talked to it. Winchester kept his distance, although he no longer waited more than a moment to gulp down whatever food Marsh provided. “Getting greedy, aren’t you?” Marsh said now, knowing that it wasn’t his company the animal craved. The thought amused him. How long had it been since anyone had wanted his company?

A long time.

Fifteen years ago he had stood over an unarmed man and killed him. Slowly. Bullet after bullet in painful places. He had even taken unholy pleasure in it. He’d had his reasons, but he’d also known in those minutes that he had surrendered his soul. It was the final act that placed him outside of humanity.

Marsh had never allowed an attachment after that. Not to a person, a place, or even an animal. He’d never named a horse and often traded them to avoid any attachment. His few pleasures were superficial, a momentary indulgence in a fine meal or superior wine or an hour with an enthusiastically uninhibited woman.

When had it become not enough?

The dog growled again. Christ, Marsh thought, he had to stop this … this questioning. He went to the window, still naked, and looked across to the Silver Slipper, to the window he knew belonged to Catalina. And smiled. Damn, but she was beautiful last night. Beautiful and dangerous. His body recalled, with vivid warmth, the sizzling heat that had run along every nerve when they’d touched. No woman had ever done that to him.

Too bad she wanted to ruin him. It would be interesting to explore just how hot the fire could get. Perhaps it would even burn itself out, like a backfire.

And then he could lay it aside, once and for all.

He dressed slowly in his work clothes, hesitated a moment, and then reached for the gunbelt and buckled it on. He needed it today. He needed it so he’d know who he was.

He went to the doorway. Winchester followed him at a distance.

A pot of coffee and some food. Perhaps a long ride this afternoon.

And maybe a seduction tonight. He’d always been very good at that.

Teddy entered Hugh O’Connell’s home without a knock, as he was used to doing. He and Hugh had grown up together, Hugh’s parents dying at a young age and Teddy’s mother taking him in.

Hugh had been Teddy’s manager when he had been in the boxing ring, but Teddy had never really been that good. He didn’t have the killer instinct, and he knew, after several years, that while he might win a bout now and then, he would never be among the best. Hugh had fallen in love by then and needed a steady income, and Teddy reluctantly dropped out of fighting, because Hugh wouldn’t leave him until he did.

When Hugh had married, Teddy was best man, and he was godfather to the oldest boy. He adored Elizabeth, who had always made him feel part of the family and was constantly trying to pair him with one good Catholic girl after another. But Teddy had always been shy with them, realizing that his bulk and battered face were not the stuff of which a woman’s dreams were made.

Catalina Hilliard, who had originally hired him as a bouncer, was one of the few people who had looked beyond his brawn and given him a job with responsibility that made him feel more than a has-been fighter. He’d gained confidence in himself, even though he knew his surface roughness still repelled young women, and, in most cases, it didn’t really matter. Most were young and silly and shallow and only shadows of the strength he saw and admired in his employer. His loyalty to her was absolute, even fanatical, because, without her faith, he knew he’d probably be lying in an alley someplace, remembering in a drunken stupor those very few hours of glory in a ring. Now he had respect, a life he enjoyed, a feeling of worth.

And he was falling in love with someone who didn’t seem to care about his smashed face and large size. He was filled with expectation … and gratitude, even as he realized that his courtship might be very slow. Molly was afraid of something, and he knew he had to go slow. But she trusted him, and that alone made him feel … well, like a king.

The noise inside the O’Connell house was comforting, even the crying of the youngest one. There was always noise here with five little ones between the ages of one and ten. Two were in school, but the two middle ones, Betsy and Terrence, hurled themselves into his arms as Elizabeth came into the front room with the youngest in her arms.

She beamed at him. “Thank you for telling Hugh about the job,” she said. “It’s been a godsend.”

Then Hugh emerged from the bedroom, apparently dressed for work in a new suit. Teddy was obviously curious.

“Mr. Canton,” Hugh explained awkwardly. “He paid for some new clothes.”

Teddy felt indignant for his cousin. He knew how much Hugh and his wife needed money; he had, in fact, tried to lend them money, but they always refused to take it. “He made you buy new clothes?”

Hugh shook his head. “No, he’s paying for them himself. Said they gave the place”—he struggled for a word—“style.”

“Let’s talk alone,” Teddy said.

Hugh looked distinctly uncomfortable, but nodded as Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen to let the men talk. She called the other two children to come with her.

Teddy took a chair, overflowing on it. He towered over his cousin. “What is Canton up to?”

Hugh hesitated. When he’d first met Mr. Canton, he hadn’t suspected he might have a problem with loyalty. The man had been as cold as Alaska ice, but something in the past few days had nibbled at Hugh’s conscience. He supposed it was his innate loyalty to the person who paid him, along with Canton’s unexpected offer of an advance when he’d learned that Hugh’s wife was expecting. Or perhaps because Canton treated him with dignity after years of none in the Barbary Coast. But Teddy, who was closer than a true brother, sat there looking at him expectantly.

What could it hurt?

“He has a new singer, a regular. Mr. Devereux from the Pacific Palace recommended her.” Hugh hesitated. Dear Lord, he felt like a Judas, but Teddy continued to look at him expectantly. Years of kinship, blood ties, overtook his scruples, but he didn’t feel good about it, and he let Teddy see it. “He’s bringing in more gambling equipment,” he said finally. “Almost double that at the Silver Slipper, and he’s hiring very pretty girls to deal.”

“Women?” Teddy asked, startled.

Hugh nodded reluctantly. He hadn’t agreed with his new employer. Girls were usually employed to serve drinks, to dance with customers, not as dealers. But Canton had made it very clear that he wanted something the Silver Slipper didn’t offer and had said he would train the girls himself.

Teddy remained silent for a moment. Catalina had made the Silver Slipper into a place for conversation and business more so than a place for gambling, although gambling was available during certain hours. But that was changing now, what with her new plans to fight the Glory Hole with everything she had. He didn’t think it was necessary; the Silver Slipper was well established and well respected. Time would take care of the problem. But his employer was obsessed with eliminating the newcomer, and he knew her obsessions. They didn’t go away. It was one reason, he figured, that she had come as far as she had. She followed her instincts all the way.

“Will they be crooked?” he asked his cousin now.

Hugh shook his head. “Mr. Canton’s very definite on that. Anyone caught cheating will be fired.”

Teddy was decidedly unhappy at the news. He had hoped they might rid themselves of the Glory Hole in the usual way … and without guilt. And he didn’t like Hugh’s reluctance to speak. Not at all.

“There has to be something wrong.…”

Hugh shook his head. “Not that I can tell. Perhaps,” he offered tentatively, “perhaps both saloons can do well.”

“You don’t know Miss Catalina.”

“I don’t think he’s like the others. He won’t give up easily.”

Troubled, they stared at each other. Hugh had sought the job because he needed the money and he wanted to help his cousin. He had thought it only temporary, knowing the history of the Glory Hole, but now he felt as if he had a new chance in a fine job with a man he was beginning to respect, if not particularly like.

Teddy felt a tightening in his belly, the sure sign of big trouble. He saw the first rip in a lifelong relationship. He rose and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’ll be saying good-bye then to Elizabeth and the little ones.”