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THE HOTEL WASN’T FANCY. The carpeting in the hall was worn through in spots, like a mangy dog, and they hadn’t yet installed gas lighting, so the interior was dim and gloomy. The sheets were yellowed with age and stained with God knew what, so she was lying on the bed fully clothed while she looked up at the cracked ceiling. No, it wasn’t fancy, but Laura didn’t have the money for fancy.
Still, it was the first chance she’d had to relax for a bit since leaving Omaha. Nothing had worked out like she had planned, but she still managed to escape, so on the whole she couldn’t complain too much. Of course, any respite that she had was going to be short-lived. There’s no way that they’re going to just let me go, she thought. Not after all of that.
She could still picture Hetty and the Jurgen brothers there in the window. After she leaped the fence, Laura had tumbled to the dirt, rolling headlong until she landed on her bottom and found herself staring up at Hetty’s place, covered in dust and stunned by her fall. She remembered the gleam in Keith’s eyes as he started down the sheet, propping his feet against the wall and quickly lowering himself hand-over-hand.
“You just made things worse now,” he called. His voice was lively; he always enjoyed it when things with the girls got physical one way or the other. Even now, lying on the bed in Lincoln, Laura shivered when she remembered it.
Then, as he was halfway down to the henhouse roof, the most beautiful thing happened. There was a great sound of ripping fabric, and the sheets came apart in his hands. Keith Jurgen, known all around town as the muscle behind Hetty’s bordello, a man as serious and humorless as he was strong, plunged straight down and through the roof of the henhouse, where he surely became covered in feathers, eggs and chicken droppings.
The idea brought a grin to Laura’s face. She hadn’t stayed to watch at the time, of course; as soon as she realized what was happening, she took off running and managed to disappear while Hetty and George were distracted by Keith’s predicament. Thank God Hetty’s cheap, she thought. If she’d bought better sheets, I might still be up in Omaha.
Nevertheless, she wouldn’t have a lot of time to celebrate her victory. She had managed to find a driver to bring her to Lincoln quickly and quietly, but she had already paid him for the ride. Once he returned to Omaha—which would be by tomorrow morning, most likely—he surely wouldn’t mind collecting a little more cash in exchange for some information about where he’d taken her. She probably had a good twenty-four hours before Hetty sent her dogs after her. That is, twenty-four hours if I managed to lose the Jurgens, she thought. I may have even less time than that. Still, it seemed a safe bet. Keith would have needed some time to recover and clean up from his adventure through the henhouse roof, and with his belly, George was allergic to moving quickly. I should have a whole day, and I don’t need nearly that much.
She reached into her sleeve for the note that she had scribbled. The stagecoach would be stopping at the town hall at ten tomorrow morning, and she intended to be on it when it left, even if it meant spending her last dime. Now that she had her freedom back, she planned to put Omaha well behind her, and to do that she was heading west. She would go as far as her money took her. Maybe I’ll even make it to California someday, she thought. They say that every day is like springtime there.
It was a pleasant thought, but it was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Robbie, miss. From the hotel staff. I brought some hot water for your bath.”
She sat up on the bed. “I didn’t ask for bathwater.”
“It’s included,” he said. “We just thought you might like to wash up after your trip. It’s a long ride from Omaha.”
Well, that’s true, she thought. Now that he mentioned it, a hot bath sounds terrific. I’d love to get this road dust off of me. She got up and crossed to the door. “How did you know I’m coming from Omaha?” she asked, realizing the answer herself as she was sliding the deadbolt free.
She had no time to react. The door burst open as soon as the bolt moved back into its carriage, as if the person on the other side had been waiting with his weight against the door. Laura was knocked backwards, falling onto her bottom directly in the middle of the room, and she felt her breath race out in a rush. She only slowly, painfully, took another breath as she raised her gaze to the man filling the doorway. It was George Jurgen.
“You...but you....”
“Yeah, me,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind. “You sound surprised to see me, Laura. You didn’t think you could go without saying goodbye, did you?”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying,” Laura said, struggling to her feet.
George rubbed his ample gut, as he usually did when he was feeling satisfied with himself. “I will give you credit for trying, that’s for sure,” he said. “But it’s time to come home now.”
“That place is not my home.”
He waved his hand as if to brush aside what she’d said. “You know what I mean,” he said. “Call it whatever you want. Miss Parr wants you back at work by tomorrow night, which means that we’ve got to get going. And no funny business this time.” He glanced at the bed. “I assume you haven’t had time to tie these sheets together yet?”
“I hadn’t gotten to that. How’s your brother? Still covered in feathers and chicken droppings?”
George laughed, showing a gold canine tooth. “Probably so,” he said. “He was one banged-up mess, that’s for sure. Just seeing him like that was worth the trip down here. Almost.” The smile disappeared, and his face hardened just as she had seen Keith’s face do when he was coming after her. “Now like I said, let’s go.”
Laura backed up a step, although there really was nowhere to go. The window in this room was above nothing but the hard-packed dirt street, so even if she were to make it out, she’d surely break a leg when she landed. That is, if she were lucky, she’d only break a leg. “George, there must be a way you can let me go,” she said. “Something I can give you.”
He snorted. “You can’t give me anything the other girls back home can’t give me.”
“What about cash?”
His head tilted to the side suddenly, and his eyes narrowed. “How much are you talking about?”
“Enough to make you forget you ran into me here,” she said. “It’s in the bottom of my bag over there on the bureau. If you let me go, you can have it all.” She felt her stomach sink at the thought, but there was nothing else she could do. If he doesn’t let me go, then he’ll keep the money anyway, she thought. I already lost it, but at least this way I might buy a second chance.
George grabbed her bag and stuck one chubby hand inside, fishing around until he found the money. When he peeked inside the velvet bag, his eyes lit up in a way that Laura had previously only seen when he was at the dinner table. “Where’d you get all this?”
“I’ve been saving it,” she said, sidling toward the door. “But you keep it all.”
“I will,” he said, slipping the bag into his vest pocket. “But you’re still coming home with me.” He placed one meaty hand against the door and grinned.
Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would leap from her chest. “I’ll scream,” she said, though her voice was shaky.
“Go ahead,” he said. “The hotel staff is all taking a little break right now. Funny how cheap I got them to do that.” He reached into his pants and pulled out a clasp knife. “Now I’m about out of patience with you.”
Laura swallowed. The knife handle was huge, which meant that the blade was huge as well. And George doesn’t like to run, she thought. He’d just as well use the knife if it meant he had an easier time. But I don’t intend to make it easy on him. Then she kicked him in the shin with everything she had, whipped open the door and leaped out into the hallway.
For a fat man, George was remarkably fast. Perhaps it was the pain of getting kicked that had motivated him, or the thought of having to chase her all the way to another town, or simply because he took a twisted pride in his job. Regardless of the reason, even as he was howling in pain and hopping on one leg, he managed to get out in the hall only a step behind Laura, and caught her by the back of her dress.
She screamed and leaped ahead, feeling her dress rip along the seam before she pulled herself free of George’s grasp. By freeing herself, however, she was now leaning too far ahead, and she felt herself falling. Only at the last second was she able to throw out her hands and catch herself before she fell flat on her face, sending her scuttling ahead like a crab.
“Come back here!” he shouted. His voice filled the hallway like the bellow of an angry bull, and she could feel the floorboards tremble beneath his weight as he stomped after her.
Laura scrambled to her feet and took off for the stairs. There was no way she was going to escape him, but there was also no way she was going back to Omaha. Not without a fight, anyway, and she had a heck of a lot of fight left in her.
Before she could reach the stairs, however, another exit appeared to her as if it had been heaven-sent. At the end of the hall, only steps in front of her, the door to the last room on the right opened wide and a man stepped out.
Laura had no time to think about what she was doing, let alone ask. She simply followed her instincts and threw herself into the room. The man looked at her for only a second before his head whipped around and he saw George, who was now lumbering toward him, the knife still in his grip.
“Get out here—” George shouted, and then was suddenly quiet. Laura was crouching near the bed, as if she were safe from him there, and she turned toward the doorway to see George standing there dumbly, his eyelids fluttering and a thin trickle of blood seeping from his nose. The man who had opened his room stood there with both fists raised.
“Did you....did you hit him?” Laura asked.
“Only once,” the man said, turning toward her. “So far.”
“Why you....” George muttered. With his free hand, he wiped the blood from his upper lip, then raised the knife and leaped ahead.
Laura screamed. The man didn’t even turn fully around, but instead whipped his fist up past his own shoulder, again smacking George right in the nose. George dazedly stumbled backwards, and when he hit the opposite wall, he slid down until he was sitting on the hallway floor.
The man cocked his head at Laura. “It looks like you could use a little help.”
She tore her eyes from George, who looked like he was about to go down for a nap, and took a look at her new savior. He was a bit older than she was, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and although she’d just gone through the most frightful experience of her life, she couldn’t help noticing what a good-looking man he was. If nothing else, working for Hetty had taught her an appreciation for worthy examples of the male form, so to speak. And this man had a worthy example.
He had the strong, lean body of a man who was used to hard work, and while George filled doorways with his width, this man filled them with his height. The green in his eyes shone brightly in the lamplight, and he had two days of scruff on him. Laura wondered for just a moment what it would feel like to run her fingers across his stubbly cheek. To slide her hand down his abdomen, which she guessed was ridged with muscle. To take his cock in her fist and clasp him warmly. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. “Yes, I think I could use a bit of help,” she said.
“Well, all right then,” the man said. “You’re coming with me.”