Rachael laughed out loud. “You know, I think you may be right.”
“Are you going to the dance tonight?”
Rachael smiled. “I thought you would never ask,” she said.
For a second, Falcon was confused. Then he realized she thought he was asking her to the dance. He recovered quickly.
“If you would allow me, I would be happy to call for you and escort you to the dance,” he said.
“I would like that very much,” Rachael said.
“All right. Seven o’clock?”
“Yes, seven would be fine.” Looking around the saloon, Rachael saw that a few more patrons had arrived. “We always get a crowd early on Saturday. I guess I had better get back to the piano. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”
“Rachael Kirby?” a man’s voice said.
Rachael was halfway back to the piano when she heard her name. Turning, she looked at the person who addressed her, then let out a little gasp.
“Edwin Mathias!” she replied. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“My group is providing music for the dance tonight,” the tall, dignified man replied. “I heard over at hotel that you were here, playing in a”—he looked around with obvious distaste—“saloon? I was certain it would not be you, yet here you are.”
“Yes,” Rachael said. “Here I am.”
“May I ask why you are here?”
“Everyone has to be somewhere,” Rachael answered. “I came west with the J. Garon troupe, and when he absconded with all the money, I found myself stranded and in need of a job. This opportunity came up, so I took it.”
“So, the story the mayor told me is correct,” Edwin said. He made a clucking sound, and shook his head. “Rachael, Rachael, Rachael. I could have warned you about Garon. Everyone in the business knows what a crook he is.”
“Apparently, not everyone,” Rachael replied. “I had no idea that the man’s reputation was anything but sterling.”
Seeing that Falcon was following the conversation between the two of them, Rachael stepped back toward the table. “Edwin, I would like you to meet a friend of mine, Falcon MacCallister. Falcon, this is Edwin Mathias.”
Falcon stood and extended his hand.
“MacCallister,” Edwin said. “Would he be any—”
“He is their brother,” Rachael said, answering Edwin’s question before he finished asking it.
Edwin smiled and dipped his head slightly. “If you are the brother of Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister, then it is certainly my honor and privilege to meet you, sir.”
“The honor is mine,” Falcon said.
“Falcon, Edwin and I are old…friends,” Rachael said, setting the word “friends” apart from the rest of the sentence. “We have performed together many times.”
“Well, by all means, have a seat, Mr. Mathias,” Falcon invited. “I’ll just get out of your way here. I’m sure you two have much to talk about.”
“You needn’t leave, Falcon,” Rachael said.
“I was about to leave anyway,” Falcon said. “I need to buy a new shirt for the dance tonight.”
“Then I will be seeing you again, sir?” Edwin said.
“Yes,” Falcon replied.
“Very good, I shall look forward to it.”
As Falcon left, he glanced back to see that Rachael and Edwin were already engaged in serious conversation. From the tone of their voices, and the way they behaved toward each other, he got the idea that their past acquaintance was more than just casual.
“I was afraid I would never see you again,” Edwin said after Falcon left.
“It might have been better if you hadn’t,” Rachael said.
“Rachael, please, don’t be that way. You have no idea what I went through when you left.”
“What
“But she meant nothing to me, Rachael. Can’t you understand that? She—she came up to me after the performance that night—she was an outrageous flirt. At first I was just flattered by the attention. Then—”
“Please,” Rachael said, interrupting him. “I don’t want to hear all the details.”
“All right,” Edwin said. He sighed. “I wish you were as pleased to see me as I am to see you. I did read the reviews. Rachael, the critics loved us. We could have had it all, the season in New York, the European tour. It was there for us—and we just threw it away.”
“
“Well, all right, I threw it away,” Edwin said. “But if you had just been a tiny bit more tolerant. I would have
