Chapter 6
There were two front entrances to the River Queen Hotel & Saloon. A wide-open doorway with swinging doors led to the saloon. Rose chose the smaller door that lay to the right. Inside she found a shabby-looking lobby with mismatched furniture that looked as if it could use a good dusting. No carpet, just a rough wooden floor that looked as if it hadn’t been swept for days. Such negligence would never have occurred at the Birchwood Inn.
A small man with thinning hair stood behind the counter. “Looking for a room?” he called.
Deke behind her, Rose walked to the counter. “I’m Mrs. Emmet Peterson, and I came to look around.”
“Do tell!” The little man scurried around the counter and shook her hand. “I’m Howie Sanders, chief room clerk. So sorry about your husband. What can I do for you? Just name it. Anything. Anything at all.”
“Nothing, thank you. I’ll not take up your time.” She didn’t care for the little clerk’s fawning attitude and hoped he would just leave her alone.
Howie pointed to the stairs. “All the rooms are on the second floor.” He pointed toward an archway. “The saloon’s through there, although”—he frowned with concern—“a lady like you might not want—”
“Don’t worry about it.” She turned to Deke. “Shall we?” They walked through the archway into the vast gambling hall where they were met with a huge swell of noise coming from a mixture of men’s boisterous voices, glasses clinking, corks popping, and who knew what else? The room itself was huge, at least ninety by fifty feet with a ceiling at least sixteen feet high. Large gas-lit, brass chandeliers provided plenty of light. Men dressed in miners’ clothes crowded around various games of chance. Deke nodded toward a crowded table. “That’s faro. Over there’s monte and poker. See that wheel? That’s roulette.”
A mahogany bar ran almost the entire length of one side of the room. Several large paintings hung from the wall above, interspersed between four huge, long mirrors. Rose looked closer. Oh, dear. The paintings all featured women with ample figures in various stages of undress. One was completely nude, reclining with her arm over her head and a come-hither smile on her face. Definitely the indecorous ladies would have to go. The floor was absolutely nauseating. Around the numerous brass spittoons, it was stained with the evidence of the miners’ poor aim. The spittoons would also have to go, along with those paintings.
The few women she saw were dressed in fancy gowns cut so low much of their cleavage was showing. No decently dressed women in the place, as far as she could see. At least Deke made her feel secure as he followed her around on his crutches. Lots of people knew him. A woman in a red satin gown with too much rouge on her cheeks came over to where they were standing. She reeked of cheap perfume. Slapping Deke on the back, she declared, “Well, if it ain’t the Australian! Haven’t see you in a coon’s age.”
Deke turned to Rose. “Meet Tillie LaTour. She works here. Tillie, this is Rose Peterson, Emmet’s wife. She’s the new owner of the River Queen.”
If Tillie was surprised, she didn’t let on. Her brazen expression disappeared as she directed her gaze toward Rose. “Sorry about your husband. If he hadn’t been so hot tempered, he wouldn’t have got himself shot. Are you going to run the place?”
“I’m not sure.” At the moment, Rose wasn’t sure about anything, she was so startled by the bluntness of this woman.
Tillie gave her a friendly pat on the arm. “Look, honey, if you need any help, and you probably will, you can find me on the third floor. I’m in charge of the girls up there.” She addressed Deke. “Has she met Jake yet?” When he shook his head, she rolled her eyes. “I’d like to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out his boss is a woman. Good luck, Mrs. Peterson.” She blew Deke a kiss and was gone.
Rose watched after her, “What does she do here?”
“She’s a hostess and a dancer, as well as”—his lips twitched with amusement—“she pretty much told you what else she did. Her girls entertain select gentlemen on the third floor. For a price, of course.”
“I see.” Rose struggled to hide her surprise. According to Emmet’s letters, he was running a perfectly respectable hotel. Never had he mentioned gambling, drinking, prostitution. He’d led his family to believe all guests were in bed and asleep by nine, and nothing stronger than tea was served in the decorous dining room. Mustn’t let Deke think she was so naïve she hadn’t known. He seemed to be well acquainted with Tillie. Was he one of those “selected gentlemen” her girls entertained on the third floor? Somehow she didn’t think so. He’d have a hard time getting up there on crutches, but more than that, he didn’t seem the type of man who’d pay for a woman’s favors. She could be wrong, though. Now, more than ever, she was realizing her experience with men had been limited at best.
She looked more closely at the long, mahogany bar crowded with men. Something strange occurred to her. Where were the women? Not the painted, gaudily dressed ones, but ordinary women like herself.
Deke took her arm. “There’s a restaurant. Do you want to see it?”
“Of course.” They peeked into the one-and-only restaurant. It didn’t look like much with its dirty floor and long, rough plank tables without any tablecloths. She’d be checking on that later. They were leaving the restaurant when a man in his forties with well-oiled, slicked back hair and bright red suspenders walked up to Rose and eyed her boldly. “You’re Emmet’s wife?” When she nodded, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake Grunion. Pleased to meet you. I run the joint.”
She didn’t care for the discourteous tone of his voice, but always polite, she shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Grunion. So you worked for my husband?” Jake nodded. “Then I’m assuming you have an office somewhere.”
“In the back, but I don’t expect a lady like you to trouble herself. This hotel runs smooth as glass, so you don’t have to worry.”
His polite words didn’t fool her, especially when she caught the flash of insolence in his eyes. She smiled and in her most pleasant voice replied, “Of course, you’re right, Mr. Grunion, but even so, I might wish to visit your office.” She touched her hand to her heart. “In memory of my dear, departed husband, I want to feel closer to him—see where he worked, meet his friends and employees. Surely you understand.”
Grunion’s mouth pulled into a thin-lipped smile. “Er…of course. Emmet Peterson’s widow is welcome to visit my office any time.” With a quick bow, he drifted away.
Deke gave her a nudge. “Dear, departed husband? What was that all about?”
“You know very well what it’s about. What an awful man.”
“They don’t come any sleazier than Jake Grunion.”
“Then why would Emmet hire such a man?”
Deke shrugged. “He had his reasons. Have you seen enough? Do you want to get out of here?”
“Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”
Once outside, they walked to where Deke had secured Sidney. He untied the reins and gave her a quizzical look. “Now that you’ve seen the place, what do you think?”
Her first visit to the River Queen Hotel & Saloon had been an eye-opening experience. With its raucous noise, indecent portraits, revolting spittoons, tobacco-stained floors, and the awful stench of tobacco, beer, and unwashed bodies, it wasn’t at all what she expected. Worst of all was meeting Jake Grunion, so unpleasant she hadn’t had time to think. Now outside, she took a breath of clean air, stepped back, and gazed at her hotel. The tallest building around, its solid brick structure had an air of permanence about it, not like many of the flimsy structures that lined the street. Just reading the large sign across the front, THE RIVER QUEEN HOTEL & CASINO, caused a ripple of pride to run through her.
“The River Queen is mine and I’m keeping it, Deke. Right now it’s a disgrace. What was my husband thinking? There’s much to be fixed, but I’m full of plans already. Just wait until I get my hands on that restaurant. It’ll take money, but I think Emmet left me some. If not, I’ll get it somehow.”
Deke broke into a grin. “Good for you. You’re a smart woman, and you made a wise decision. What next? Where do you want to go?”
“I want to go home, Deke. I need to get back to Lucy. And also”—a flicker of apprehension coursed through her—“I must talk to Ben and Coralee. They think I’ve lost my mind. I must convince them I know what I’m doing.”
She held Deke’s crutches as he mounted his horse. He was reaching down to grasp her hand when a smart-looking phaeton drawn by two matched white horses drew up beside them. Mason Talbot sat on the high seat, reins in hand. He smiled down at her. “Ah, there you are, Mrs. Peterson. Your mother- and father-in-law were worried after your…shall we say, hasty departure.”
She drew herself up. “No need for concern, sir. I’m fine.”
So far, Mason hadn’t acknowledged Deke’s existence or even looked in his direction. Focused entirely on Rose, he inquired, “May I give you a ride?”
Rose flicked a quick look at Deke. “Thank you, but I have one.”
Mason appeared not to hear. “I’ve been talking with Mr. Field. He has much to discuss with you. Did you know Emmet had accounts of considerable size at Wells Fargo?” With alacrity, Mason sprang from the carriage and offered his hand. “I’ll tell you more on the way home.”
How could she refuse when she was dying to know what the solicitor had said? Framing an explanation and apology she looked up at Deke, but before she could speak, he brought two fingers to the brim of his hat, murmured a quick, “Good day, Mrs. Peterson,” touched his heels to Sidney’s flank and rode away.
* * * *
Curse the anchor that caught. Curse the boat that overturned and broke his leg, and curse the doctor who told him if he took one step before the cast was off, he’d be crippled the rest of his life. Ordinarily Deke took whatever Fate had in store for him in his stride, but riding back to the cheap room he’d rented, his frustration hit new heights. Damn these crutches! Just now, he’d felt like a helpless fool, having to hobble along after her, and she, so considerate and concerned, would get that look of pity on her face that made him want to puke. Then, even worse, he could hardly believe what he was seeing when Mason Talbot drove up in that fancy phaeton of his, and she, little fool, gazed up at him all delighted, like she’d seen a man so handsome, so poised and sure of himself every single woman in town must be panting after him. Good God! Little did she know. Rose. Whenever he thought of her—which was much too often—he pictured her with her hair down, like it was that day they met, all silky thick and golden bronze, hanging loose around her shoulders. Last night, after he went to bed, he imagined what it would be like to run his hands through those silky strands, pull her warm body close… What was he thinking? Better stop day dreaming. Now that she’d met the rich and irresistible owner of the Egyptian Hotel, she wouldn’t be giving this cripple the time of day. But wait. One more week, Dr. Andrews said. One more week, Mrs. Rose Peterson, and then we’ll see how taken you are with the likes of Mason Talbot.
* * * *
Rose looked down at her faded, patched dress and heartily wished she were wearing something elegant that befitted Mason Talbot’s fine carriage. Even so, he’d handed her into his carriage as if she were a queen. As he picked up the reins and pulled away, he threw her a delighted, side-long glance. “I’m glad I found you, Mrs. Peterson. Your in-laws were worried. I must say, you gave them quite a surprise.”
“Then you’re not angry?”
“Why I should I be?”
“You went to all that trouble to draw up the check, and Lord knows what else, only to be disappointed.”
Mason chuckled. “Not at all. There are too many namby-pamby women in this world. I rather enjoyed seeing a young woman stand up for herself. A rare sight, if I may say so.”
How kind of him. What a relief that he understood. “I’m concerned about my in-laws. I expected they’d be shocked and horrified, but instead they couldn’t believe I was serious.”
“I wouldn’t worry, especially since you’ve assured them they’ll always have a home. Although of course”—Mason slanted a cautionary glance—“are you sure you’ve made the right decision? I assume you’ve seen the hotel. Now that you have, are you sure you can handle—?”
“Quite sure.” She wanted him to understand she wasn’t one of those namby-pamby women he talked about. “My parents owned a hotel, and I helped run it. I must admit, the River Queen is far different from the Birchwood Inn of Cairo, Illinois, but I like a good challenge and I’m absolutely not going to sell.”
He chuckled again, seeming to delight in her words. “Call me Mason. When we arrive at the farm, would you like me to come in? Perhaps I could soothe a few wounded feelings, make your case, so to speak. Also, I’d like to further explain about the duel. Not that I expect your in-laws’ forgiveness, but perhaps I can help them understand.”
“Would you? I think that’s a fine idea and much appreciated.”
As Mason drove her home, Rose got a knot in her stomach that grew increasingly tighter the closer they got to the farm. She kept picturing that moment when she would walk through the door and find Ben and Coralee waiting to confront her. Surely they must have realized by now she meant what she said. At the very least, they’d be angry. She would do her best to make them understand. Having Mason Talbot by her side eased her anxiety considerably. How comforting to have a distinguished man like him to help her explain. “Do call me Rose.”
“Rose, then.” Mason flicked the reins with a flourish and threw her a confident smile.
At the farmhouse, Rose, followed by Mason, found Ben and Coralee in the kitchen. She was greeted with glacial stares. Lucy had been put to bed. Raymond and Drucilla had retired for the night. Her heart pounding, Rose opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, Mason greeted them politely and remarked, “Sorry to bother you, but could we go to the parlor and talk? If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, of course. I have much to say, and I believe Rose does, too.”
After a long hesitation, Ben gave them a frosty nod and they all traipsed into the parlor. With a sinking heart, Rose noted no refreshments had been offered, an ominous indication of her usually hospitable mother-in-law’s hostility. When Rose and Mason were seated, they faced Ben and Coralee who sat stern-faced and ramrod straight on the horsehair sofa across. Mason was first to break the icy silence. “Rose wants to talk to you, but first…” He cleared his throat. “I have already told you how it came about that I engaged in a duel with your son. As for the duel itself… It’s hard for me to talk about such an unfortunate event, but I want to explain what happened.”
Ben raised his palm. “What’s the point? My son is dead. Nothing you might say will bring him back.”
“If you don’t wish me to go on, then of course I won’t. I suppose in a way I’m being selfish. I admire and respect the both of you and don’t want you ever to think I murdered your son in cold blood. I want you to understand such was not the case.”
Ben was about to answer, but Coralee silenced him with a quick jab to his ribs. “Let the man speak. I want to know exactly why my son is lying dead in his grave.”
Mason ignored the enmity in Coralee’s voice. In a calm, level tone he continued, “That day, as was usual, I worked long hours at my brewery. Darkness had fallen when I left. I had dinner, and then stopped by the River Queen. It was my way of relaxing—getting away from my own hotel—playing a few hands of faro before I went home. On that night, the only table open was run by Ned Barrow, a dealer I didn’t like because I suspected him of cheating. I always made a point to avoid him, but that evening I had no choice. I cautioned myself to be extra vigilant, and before long, sure enough, I caught him dealing marked cards. That’s when I realized the whole table was gaffed. Excuse me—that means set up to cheat. The corner of each card was shaved so slightly that unless you were looking for it, you’d never notice. I must admit, I allowed my temper to get a bit out of hand. I demanded to speak to Emmet, whom I knew fairly well. When he came to the table, I didn’t mince words. I accused his dealer of cheating and implied Emmet knew. He did not take it well, and I—”
“What!” Ben’s eyes widened in anger. “My son was an honest man, Mr. Talbot. I never knew him to so much as touch a card, let alone cheat.”
Mason cast him a look of sympathy. “It’s the insanity of the Gold Rush, sir. Greed and avarice have caused many a man to do things he’d never do at home. Sorry to cause you further grief. I’m only telling it like it is. If you like, I’ll stop right there.”
“Continue on. I want to hear it all.”
“We continued to argue. I didn’t back down and was adamant that the faro table was gaffed. Emmet called me a liar. He became extremely agitated. Kept insisting I was wrong. By then, I was beginning to realize the argument was going nowhere. I was about to back off when Emmet completely lost his head and challenged me to a duel.”
Coralee spoke up. “But nobody fights duels anymore. Emmet would never do such an idiotic thing.”
“I’m only stating the facts. If you want, I can produce plenty of witnesses. Your son had murder in his eye when he told me he’d send his second to my office in the morning so we could settle on the arrangements.”
“What do you mean by ‘arrangements’?” Ben asked.
“Illegal or not, there are accepted guidelines for affairs of honor. For instance, in most cases the challenged party is given the choice of weapons. The seconds decide all the details, such as the number of shots permitted, how many paces they must take before they turn and fire. They take care to ensure the ground chosen gives no unfair advantage to either party. They arrange for a doctor to be on hand, which, in our case, there was. Duels are often formal affairs, so the seconds agree on the dress code. They also decide whether or not refreshments will be served.”
“At a duel?” Ben’s jaw dropped open. “Refreshments? Good God!”
“I can assure you, no refreshments were served at our duel. Only a handful of witnesses were present, including our seconds. All who were there realized the gravity of the occasion. As I said, we did have a doctor present, although unfortunately, when the time came, nothing could have been done…”
Mason appeared to think better of what he was about to say and continued on. “That night, I left the River Queen and went home. Next morning, I hardly gave the whole sordid affair a thought. I figured by then Emmet would have come to his senses, but I was wrong. Along about ten o’clock, here came Jake Grunion, whom Emmet had appointed as his second. Jake demanded I select the time, place, and weapon. ‘Swords or pistols?’ he asked. I was astounded. I’m not one of those swashbuckling swordsman from The Three Musketeers. What choice did I have but pistols?”
Rose couldn’t keep silent. “Why chose anything all? Why didn’t you simply tell him you refused to engage in a duel? The whole affair is incredible. It appears my husband was at fault, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t just say no.”
“I’m not a coward, Mrs. Peterson. As I said, it’s a matter of honor.” Mason gave her a rueful smile. “Men are like that, fools that we are. You women wouldn’t understand because you’re smarter, and far more practical.”
Ben leaned forward intently. “My son was not a stupid man, Mr. Talbot. It’s beyond me to understand why he’d do such an outrageous thing.”
“It’s not so much that Emmet wanted to kill me as he wanted to restore his so-called tarnished reputation by demonstrating a willingness to risk his life for it.”
After Ben thought a moment, he seemed satisfied with Mason’s answer. “Please continue on.”
Mason described the duel itself: pistols at dawn in a secluded spot along the Sacramento River. They each brought their second. Jake Grunion for Emmet and Rudy Avery for Mason. “As I said, tradition decrees the seconds are to negotiate, sometimes down to the last moment, and hopefully come to an agreement that would save the honor of both participants without resorting to bullets. They did their best, but Emmet was obstinate. Couldn’t be dissuaded. And so…” Mason spread his hands. “I’m so deeply sorry, but to be honest, if I had it to do over, man of honor that I am, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
For a time Ben sat silent. Finally he gave a brief nod. “Thank you for explaining, Mr. Talbot. I can’t say that my wife and I can forgive you, but you’ve helped me better understand.” His gaze shifted to Rose. “We need to talk.”
He was angry. She could tell from the harshness in his voice. “Anything you have to say, I don’t mind if Mr. Talbot hears. I love you both, and I’m sorry I upset you this morning. It’s just that when I learned the farm and hotel were mine—”
“They are not yours.” Ben stood up, his whole body shaking with anger. “After you left, I talked further with that idiot solicitor. He made a mistake. Emmet acquired those properties with the profits of his gold discoveries. You had nothing to do with it. Therefore, I am the closest male relative, and the property goes to me. We’re to meet in Field’s office tomorrow morning. Whether you sign the papers or not, it’s only a formality.” He addressed Mason. “Can you be there, Mr. Talbot? I want to get this entire affair over and done with.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Fine.” Ben turned to Coralee. “Come, we’re going to bed.”
Numb inside, Rose watched her in-laws leave the parlor without another word. This was horrible, worse than she ever imagined. She turned to Mason. “I never dreamed they’d turn on me like that.”
Mason took her hand. “How upsetting this must be for you. Believe me, I’ll help in any way I can. I’ll be at Field’s office in the morning. We shall get this affair settled and avoid further conflict.” With a chivalrous bow, he took up her hand and kissed it. “Good night, my dear. This is all for the best. You’re a beautiful woman, much too beautiful to be troubling yourself with such mundane matters as running a hotel. Good night. Don’t bother showing me to the door.”
Alone in the kitchen, Rose made her dinner from some bread and a piece of leftover fried chicken, but her in-laws’ hostility had caused her to lose her appetite and she could hardly eat. What had she been thinking of? Like Mason pointed out, how could she, a mere woman, handle her own affairs? How could she possibly have thought she could defy her in-laws and win? She would apologize—beg their forgiveness and promise she’d never again be foolish enough to claim she owned her own property.
She tidied the kitchen, lit a candle, and stepped into the tiny bedroom that was now hers and Lucy’s. Such an awful room, miserably small with its battered chest-of-drawers, tiny high-up window, and narrow bed. She found Lucy sound asleep, gave her a kiss, and slid her little body over a few inches so she’d have room for herself, although they’d still be cramped together. Again, she couldn’t help thinking how unfair it was that Drucilla and Raymond had more room than they needed upstairs, especially Raymond, who never gave a thought to neatness and wouldn’t care if he lived in a pigpen. She shouldn’t be petty, though. It was just…
Would this be her life from now on? If she stayed with Ben and Coralee, she’d always be last on the list, no better than a servant, actually. Her only escape was to marry. She’d certainly have no problem finding a husband, considering, as Dulcee had pointed out, around here there were fifty men to every woman. But so what? One loveless marriage was enough, and she’d never do it again. Of course, there was always the possibility she might find a man she could love. Mason Talbot, for instance. She could tell from the way he looked at her that he liked her. She liked him well enough, but as yet he hadn’t caused her to heart to flutter. She certainly didn’t ache for his touch, not like she had Anthony. Of course, given time? Maybe she could learn to love him. She certainly ought to, being that he was rich, handsome, and charming besides. The only other man she was acquainted with was Deke. She smiled, remembering how he’d shown her how to run her hands through the barrel of chicken feed. What a silly thing to do, but even so, he’d raised her spirits that night. She liked him a lot, but could she ever fall in love with him? Even if she did, the poor man was down and out. He could hardly take care of himself, let alone take on a wife.
So Ben owned the hotel after all. What a blow. Only hours ago, she’d been thrilled at the thought the River Queen belonged to her. How she would have loved to make it into a first class hotel, the dream of a lifetime. How sad that now she could only contemplate what might have been. But wait, she’d thought of something.
With a sudden urgency, she slipped from the covers and reached under her bed where she kept her valise and dragged it out. By flickering candlelight, she sat cross-legged on the floor and drew out a large envelope that contained a few documents and a packet of letters tied together with a bit of blue ribbon. She read everything through, including all documents and letters. When she was done, she clasped her hands together and whispered, “Yes!”