'Yes,' said Shannon, a little grimly.
'Now, now, don't worry about him, Mrs. Gabriel,' Mrs. Haywood advised her. She sighed with an expansive smile and patted Shannon's knee. 'You're such a pretty young thing, you needn't worry a bit. Newlyweds, eh?'
'Er, yes ma'am. How did you know?' Shannon said.
'The war, my girl, the war. Young ladies here and there are snatching up their fellers the second the boys come home. Too many young men dead. Too many young women left without husbands or intendeds. Those who can are marrying quick. Did your husband fight in the war, Mrs. Gabriel?'
'Yes—yes, he did,' Shannon said quickly. She prayed that Mrs. Haywood wouldn't ask her any more questions.
She didn't. She pointed to the pastries on the plate. 'Meat pies and cinnamon swirls and raisin muffins. And I'm the best cook this side of the Mississippi, I promise you. Help yourself, young lady.'
Shannon hadn't known how hungry she was until she bit into the first pie. It was still warm from the oven, and the pastry was fluffy and light and delicious, and the meat was tender and seemed to melt in her mouth. She hadn't had anything nearly so good in ages, and it felt as if she and Malachi had been on the road forever, despite the fact that this would only be their fourth night away. Everything about the parlor felt good, from the elegance of the chairs to the fine food and sweet tea. It was nice to stop, even if Malachi had been his usual dictatorial self when he had refused to let her go to the saloon.
Mrs. Haywood kept talking as Shannon ate. She explained that Haywood was kept busy by the traffic that went through. There were roads all around the town. Some of them went south, Texas way, and some of them went to Missouri, and some of them headed toward the north, while an awful lot of them headed out west. 'People are headin' for California, right and left, already. Almost as much as back in '49. The war…it left so many without a home, or without a home they could call their own anymore.'
Shannon nodded vaguely. She found herself looking over the rear of the chair, out the curtained windows and across the street to the saloon. Heat suffused through her as she thought of the way she had kissed Malachi in the store, and she wondered why she had done so. If she were playing a game, it was a dangerous one. If she was hoping to taunt him or hurt him, she was risking herself by doing it. She didn't know what had seized her; she didn't seem to know herself at all any more.
Nor did she understand why she was so anxious over the length of time he was staying at the saloon. What was he doing over there?
Drinking it up with the whores, no doubt, she thought, and a flush of anger filled her. She didn't care; it was none of her business.
But she did care. It made no sense. She did care. Maybe it was the idea that he could move on from her to a whore so quickly. Maybe it left her with doubts about her abilities.
She almost bit through her cup with that thought, and she reminded herself fiercely that she really loathed Malachi, loathed him with all her heart, and she had never set out to please him, she had never set out to be with him at all. And she didn't want to be with him now; it was a matter of necessity.
Maybe he wasn't being entertained by a woman at all. Maybe he was in trouble, Shannon thought.
'You two staying the night?' Mrs. Haywood asked her.
'Uh—no, I don't think so,' Shannon said. 'Ma—my husband, Sloan, wants to keep moving. He says the sooner we get where we're going, the sooner we'll get settled down.'
'But a little rest never did nobody any harm, either,' Mrs. Haywood said. 'Pity, I've got the coziest little room upstairs. Pretty lace curtains, a big wool comforter, a fireplace and—' she winked, leaning toward Shannon ''—I got the most unbelievable hip bath you ever seen up there. It's a two seater, wood and copper, just right for a young mister and his new missus.'
Shannon nodded, her face growing red despite herself. 'I'm sure it's very, very nice, Mrs. Haywood—'
Mrs. Haywood jumped up, grabbing her hand. 'Do come on. Your young man seems to be enjoying himself. You come on up here, and I'll show you my honeymooners' retreat!'
Shannon didn't have much choice. She stared across the roadway one more time, wishing she could give Malachi a good punch right in the gut. What did he think he was doing? Was he enjoying himself at her expense, or…
Was he in trouble?
She wished she knew.
It was a typical saloon, the type that had been cropping up in Kansas ever since the white man had first started to claim the land. Two men served behind the bar, and a beautiful brunette with a feathered hat and shoulderless gown played tunes at the piano. There were two lone drinkers at round tables, and a poker game going on in the rear of the room. Three of the players were ranchers; they had come with their dusty hats and kerchiefs and chaps and spurs, and they were swigging on whiskey bottles. A fourth man seemed to be a clerk or a banker. He was wearing a neat pin-striped suit with a crooked tie and white shirt.
The other two had a somewhat professional air about them. Both wore vested suits and tall hats. One was lean with a thin curling mustache, and the other was heavier set with small, very dark and very alert eyes.
Malachi wandered over to the bar, and one of the barkeeps hurried to serve him. 'Beer,' Malachi said briefly, throwing a coin on the bar. The man smiled and drew a foaming brew from the tap. Malachi nodded his thanks.
'Passing through?' the barkeep asked.
Malachi nodded again. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the gamblers were being served by a tall, buxom redhead. The sight of the woman gave him a start, and he almost forgot to answer the barkeep. 'The wife and I are heading out for California. Seems the only thing to do now.' He remembered Shannon's words and added, 'We were burned out End of the war, you know. Seems to make sense to up and start all over.'
'Yep, seems to make sense. Lots of people heading west these days. You staying in town long?'
'Nope. Just came in to wet my whistle.'
The barkeep smiled. 'And your wife is over at Mrs. Hay-wood's having tea.'
'Yeah, how'd you know?'
'Cause this is Haywood's saloon. His town, really. He entertains the lady folks on that side of the street, and the men on this side. Darned good scam, ain't it, Mr.—'
'Gabriel. Sloan Gabriel.'
'Matey. Matey MacGregor. It all seems to come out clean in the wash here. The Haywoods are right nice folks themselves, and that seems to make it all right'
Malachi grimaced. 'Yeah, maybe it does.' He turned around, leaning against the bar, watching the tall red- haired woman again. He swore inwardly. It was Iris Andre from Springfield, and he did know her.
He thought he should turn around and hurry out of the saloon, but just at that moment, the woman looked up and saw him. Surprise and pleasure appeared on her attractive features, and she straightened, ignoring the poker players, and hurried toward him. She was going to call out his name, he knew it.
'Iris! I'll be damned!' He went to her quickly, hugging her and squeezing the air from her before she could speak. He picked her up to swing her around, whispering in her ear, 'Sloan. Sloan Gabriel. Please.'
She nodded swiftly—Ms always had been a bright woman. She meant to have her own business one day, and Malachi was sure that when she did, it would be a financial success.
'Sloan!' she said enthusiastically.
'You two know each other, Iris?' the barkeep called.
'Sure do, Matey. We're friends from way back. Sloan, grab your beer and come over here to a table for a moment.''
He'd always liked Iris. She might be a whore, but she was a whore with class. He didn't miss a beat. She was almost as tall as he was, and though she wasn't beautiful, she was attractive with her strong features, blazing red hair, green eyes and regal height.
'Come on!' she urged him, putting him farther and farther into the back. She sat him down at one of the small tables, far away from the others, far away from probing eyes. 'Malachi! What the hell fool thing are you doing in Kansas? Wait a minute, don't answer that. Buy me a drink so this will look like business. Matey!' she called out 'We'll take a bottle of whiskey over here. The good stuff.'
'Coming right up.'
