Page 4 of Nightingale

Music from the saloon filtered into the street as she neared it. The two-story building was the most popular establishment in town and unfortunately, the only place hiring. Taking a job there had raised more than one eyebrow and she’d had to listen to Ben rant and rave about it for a solid week. She let him say what he wanted and sighed in relief when he stopped yelling at her. End of the day, it didn’t matter if he liked it or not. The money he made at the Avery Ranch was barely enough to support them and if Ben ever took a wife, where would that leave her? She had to have a means to support herself and if working the saloon was what she had to do, then so be it.

She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and waited for the wagons ambling down the street to pass before she stepped down and hurried across the rutted dirt road. Horses and wagons filled the street, the noise of multiple voices and music filling the air. It was week’s end and every cowpoke and ranch hand for miles around was slowly making their way into town and she hoped they’d brought their money with them.

This side of the street was more congested than the other, the sidewalk filled with people. She stopped, waited for a group to pass and looked across the road as she waited. That’s when she saw him. The noise around her faded until she heard nothing but the blood rushing past her eardrums.

She’d prayed nightly Aaron Hilam never came back home but there he was, sauntering into town as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He stopped by the hotel and the crowd parted in such a way she had a clear shot of him as he dismounted his horse—and helped the girl he’d been riding with to the ground. She stared at them both, her heart racing so fast she felt dizzy. It wasn’t until someone touched her arm that she was able to look away.

“Are you all right?”

Keri Lloyd was petite with spiraling blonde curls and was among a very short list of women in town who had never looked down her nose at her. Keri’d had her share of hardships just like she had. They were a lot alike. The fact she was Aaron’s mother made it difficult to like her though. How could she like Keri so much when she was supposed to hate her son?

Betsey swallowed to moisten her dry throat and nodded her head. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Keri didn’t look as if she believed her. “Are you sure? You’re entirely too pale. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have.” She glanced across the street. “Aaron’s back,” she said, then looked at Keri. “Did you know?”

The look on the woman’s face said no, she didn’t. “This is the first I’ve seen of him.” She gave her a hesitant smile and hurried to the edge of the sidewalk. Betsey grabbed her arm.

“Keri—don’t tell him.” She’d had this discussion with Keri so many times, she was tired of it but she stared at the woman and willed her to agree.

“Betsey…”

“Please, Keri. I’m begging you. I’ll do it myself.”

Keri didn’t look as if she believed her. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.” And that wasn’t a lie. She would tell him—with her last breath on this earth. “I promise, I’ll tell him.”

Keri stared at her for long minutes then nodded her head and smiled. “All right. I’ll leave it to you to let him know, then. I’ll let Noah, Sophie and Nathaniel know not to say anything to him.”

She said her goodbyes and hurried across the street and Betsey watched her every step of the way. When she reached Aaron’s side and embraced him in a hug so tight his face turnedred, she took a step back and hoped she blended into the crowd.

He looked leaner than he had last time she’d seen him. His hair bleached a shade more blonde by the sun and the woman Aaron had helped down from the back of his horse still stood by his side. Her clothes were made of buckskin and she wore trousers. Her hair was long and black and even though she couldn’t see her face, it was hard to miss the fact she was an Indian and seeing her with Aaron made her heart hurt.

He’d been gone eleven months, two weeks and three days and the pain was as raw as it had been when he left her under the willow trees by the creek crying. She gave him one last look and turned away. She wouldn’t dwell on him being back regardless of how much her heart begged her to do so. She’d vowed to hate him until she died and that’s exactly what she was going to do. If luck was on her side, he was just passing through—him and his Indian girl.

As she tried to ignore the fact there was a woman with Aaron, she bumped into three people and she realized she couldn’t see. Her vision was blurred to the point she was looking at the world through a distorted haze of tears. She stepped out of the line of foot-traffic and into the small alleyway between the buildings, blinding tears spilling from her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. It took near to ten minutes to compose herself, her silent chant of, “He left you and now you hate him,” still ringing in her ears as she stepped back onto the sidewalk and headed toward the saloon.

The place was packed as usual for a Friday night. Smoke filled the air and made it hard to breathe. She hurried across the sawdust-strewn floor and ducked around the corner and down the dark hallway that led to the small kitchen at the back of the building. The stale scent of dust, mold, whiskey, and sweat lingered in the air. The space was sparse as always. A few boxes lined the walls, a broom stood neglected in one corner and asingle, round table took up most of the room, every chair sitting around it filled.

Betsey had never judged anyone. She had no right to. Her life certainly wasn’t worth bragging about. Growing up, she’d been the only daughter of the town drunk. The girl who wore hand-me-down clothes, rarely bathed and depended on her brother for every bite of food she put into her mouth. Her worthless pa was now dead but she still depended on Ben and probably always would in some form but looking at the women sitting around the table in this small kitchen, she counted every blessing she had and thanked every deity known to man for what little she had. She knew everyone had hardships and the things life handed you either made you stronger or killed you slowly and these women were strangling on their misfortune.

Ruby, one of the older women working the upstairs rooms, greeted her with her usual head-to-toe glance. The woman was as wide as she was tall. Her large breasts all but spilled from her dress and Betsey tried to ignore her dark nipples peeking through the lace of her bodice. Her face was pockmarked, her bulbous nose red, the small veins and broken capillaries harsh against the paleness of her face. Her hair was also the most garish shade of red she’d ever seen. It bordered on orange and the wiry texture made it stick out on all sides but she was the closest Betsey had to a friend in here. Ruby mothered her more often than not and even though she’d never tell another living soul, she liked her more than she was willing to say.

“What’s wrong, dumplin’? You look like your favorite dog done died.”

Betsey pushed her hair behind one ear and laid her basket down. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“You been crying?”

Betsey wiped underneath her eyes and blinked to moisten them. “The smoke is irritating. I’m not used to it yet.”

Ruby didn’t look as if she believed her. “Well, if you ever dohave a problem needs dealing with, you be sure to tell ole’ Ruby and if I can’t fix it, I know a man who can take care of any problem you have whether it’s illegal or not.”

She was grinning when Betsey looked back over at her and the smile hid nothing. She may have mentioned her friend in a casual manner but she had no doubt Ruby had such a friend. With the sort of men who walked into this saloon, it wouldn’t surprise her at all if there wasn’t a gun-for-hire sitting out there amongst the patrons at the card tables at this very moment.

“You don’t have money troubles, do you? I done told ya with your looks, you’d be rich in no time if you came upstairs.”

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