One Pink Rose; One White Rose; One Red Rose (43 page)

After a breakfast of fresh fish, Adam saddled the horses while she put the supplies away. They left paradise a few minutes later. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky became an omen of what was to come.

T
rouble was brewing in Gramby.

The pretty little town was nestled high up in the shoulder of the mountains. Several years ago the population had swelled considerably when rumors circulated that there was gold to be found in the surrounding hills and creek beds. The Pickerman Hotel had been constructed during that booming period, as had countless other buildings, but as luck would have it, the rumors turned out to be false, and as quickly as folks had hightailed it into town, they packed up their belongings and hightailed it out. Now there were more buildings than people to occupy them.

Hard times called for hard measures. The Pickerman Hotel was rarely full, but every once in a while, when he became desperate enough, Ernest Pickerman would join forces with his arch enemy, Harry Steeple, the owner of the neighboring saloon. The two men would pool their money and pay outrageous sums to entice entertainers to come to their town. What made their collaboration remarkable was the fact that Pickerman and Steeple had been trying to kill each other for years. Neither could abide the sight of the other, but business was business, they both agreed, and they could put off feuding until their coffers were refilled.

They had a gentleman's agreement, but since they didn't happen to be gentlemen, the rules governing conduct didn't apply.

Pickerman and Steeple were both skating on thin ice with the rest of the folks of Gramby. Twice in the past month alone the two men had collected money from them to send for entertainers, and both times the entertainers hadn't bothered to show up. It never occurred to either man to give refunds, which made them extremely unpopular fellows with the good citizens, but Pickerman and Steeple were about to redeem themselves by pulling off their greatest coup of all time.

Adam and Genevieve just happened to ride into town on the day that Miss Ruby Leigh Diamond—showgirl extraordinaire, as she was billed—was expected to perform at the Gold and Glitter Saloon. The folks of Gramby were suspicious that they were once again about to be fleeced, but they still paid in advance for tickets on the off chance that Ruby Leigh would show up. Word had spread like smallpox, and folks had flooded into the town from as far as fifty miles away. They were also willing to pay an exorbitant price to get a peek, or gander, depending on where they were seated, at Ruby Leigh's spectacular legs.

The two mismatched entrepreneurs had worked out all the arrangements so that there wouldn't be any problems. Pickerman would personally take Ruby Leigh from the coach to her hotel room. When she was rested and ready, he would escort her halfway down the boardwalk, where Steeple would be waiting, then step back and hand her over to him. Neither man had set foot in the other's establishment in over ten years, and not even a pair of magnificent legs would make them break that important tradition.

Gramby was the turning point for the stagecoach. It came up from Salt Lake City once a week, then turned around and went back. On Tuesday morning, the coach arrived right on schedule, at ten o'clock in the morning. Pickerman was ready. With a flourish and a prayer, he stepped off the boardwalk and prepared to open the door. Sweat dotted his brow and his palms, and saliva filled his mouth in anticipation of being the first man in Gramby to gaze upon Ruby Leigh Diamond's curvaceous legs when she alighted from the coach.

Unfortunately, Ruby Leigh's legs were missing, and so was the rest of her. For a minute, Pickerman refused to accept that she wasn't inside. He stuck his head in to make certain she hadn't gotten stuck in a crevice somewhere. Then he started cursing and spitting. Panic quickly set in as soon as he spotted a number of people hurrying toward the coach. He slammed the door shut, shouted to the driver to move along, and then ran inside the hotel.

An immediate conference was called. The two owners met in the alley between their establishments to decide what to do. They knew they would be strung up from the nearest tree if they didn't produce the goods, and so they furiously tried to come up with an acceptable story.

The pity was that even though they put their heads together, they still didn't have enough brains between them to think of anything remotely plausible.

And so they lied. Everyone who stopped by the hotel or the saloon that day was told that Ruby Leigh Diamond had already arrived.

By six o'clock that evening, Pickerman had gone through three handkerchiefs mopping the sweat from his brow. Steeple had worn two blisters on his toes from pacing around his saloon in his brand-new two-toned shoes. He decided that the only way he was going to be able to keep that noose from slipping around his neck was to blame Pickerman and shoot him down like a mad dog before the truth came out. Ironically, Pickerman had come up with the very same idea.

They took off with their guns blazing and had each other pinned down outside of town in Tommy Murphy's tomato field. They were so busy trying to kill each other they almost let a golden opportunity ride past. Pickerman just happened to jump up from behind the rock where he had been hiding, with the intention of putting a bullet in Steeple's backside because it was the biggest and easiest target he could find, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a beautiful woman on horseback trotting by.

He called an immediate truce by waving his soggy handkerchief in the air with one hand and pointing his pistol toward the beautiful woman in the distance with his other hand.

Steeple caught on to Pickerman's plan right away. “We've been saved,” he shouted.

“She could be our manna from heaven,” Pickerman shouted back.

In unison, the men tucked their guns in their pants and ran to intercept her before she got away. They were running so fast the heels of their shoes smacked their backsides. When they came barreling around the corner of the dirt road that led into town, they spotted Adam and immediately stopped dead in their tracks.

Steeple put his hands up in the air to let the big stranger know he didn't mean to do any harm. Pickerman mopped his brow but kept a wary eye on the woman's companion.

“Wait up, miss,” Steeple shouted. “We got a proposition for you.”

“It's a moneymaker,” Pickerman bellowed.

Genevieve reined her horse in. Adam shook his head at her and told her to keep going.

“Aren't you the least bit curious?” she asked while she waited for the two strangers to catch up with her.

“No,” he answered.

“He mentioned money,” she said. “You have to be low on funds, and I'm completely out. It would be foolish of me not to listen to what they have to say,” she added.

Adam was incredulous. “You don't have any money at all?”

“No, I—”

“You gave it away, didn't you?”

“Now, why would you—”

“Did you?” he demanded.

“As a matter of fact, I did. I had to,” she cried out. “If you had only seen—”

She was going to tell him about the couple she had encountered on the road the day before yesterday and how desperate their situation was, but Adam didn't give her an opportunity.

“Had to give it away? Were you robbed?”

“No, I wasn't—”

“I cannot believe you would go traipsing—”

“Their need was greater than mine,” she interrupted. “And I don't traipse anywhere.”

He took a deep, calming breath. “Exactly how were you planning to get to Salt Lake?”

She turned back to him. “I will either ride my horse there or I will sell her and use the money to buy a ticket on the coach. I did think things through,” she added.

“And if you can't get enough money to buy a ticket?”

“Then I won't sell the mare.”

“What about food and shelter and—”

“Adam, it's ridiculous for you to get angry. I can always find work,” she assured him.

Pickerman's huffing and puffing turned her attention. He was the first to reach her side. Steeple was hot on his heels. Adam instinctively moved his rifle across his lap. The barrel was pointed at the men.

He then ordered the strangers to step away from her.

They barely gave him a glance, for both were staring up at Genevieve with expressions of rapture on their faces.

Pickerman made the introductions. “How would you like to earn twenty whole dollars?”

Steeple poked him hard in his ribs and smiled when he heard him grunt in pain.

“You might have gotten her for ten,” he muttered.

Genevieve glanced at Adam to see how he was reacting to the pair. His expression showed only mild disdain. The two men were peculiar, she thought, and complete opposites in appearance. One was tall and thin and seemed to have a problem with perspiration. His face was dripping wet. The other man was short and squat. He seemed to have a problem walking, for she noticed he was grimacing and kept hopping from foot to foot.

“What exactly did you have in mind, gentlemen?” she asked.

Steeple answered her. “We just want you to spend the evening entertaining some folks.”

Adam exploded. “That's it,” he roared. “Genevieve, we're leaving. As for you two—”

Pickerman raised his hands. “It ain't what it sounded like. We're in a bind, a real bind, and if the lady won't help us out, we'll be hanged for sure.”

Steeple vigorously nodded. “I own the saloon next to his hotel,” he said with a nod toward Pickerman. “I got a real fancy stage, and sometimes we get big-name entertainers to come here. Both of us happened to observe what a nice pair of ankles you have, miss, and we're hoping and praying your legs are just as shapely.”

“You aren't going to be seeing her legs,” Adam snapped.

“Steeple, shut your trap 'cause you're only making the gentleman mad every time you speak. Let me tell it,” Pickerman demanded. He paused to mop his face with his handkerchief and then said, “We're in a real bad way, miss. We've already disappointed folks twice in the past month because the entertainers we sent for didn't show up. Now it's happened again. We collected money and sent for Miss Ruby Leigh Diamond to come and sing and dance at the saloon. We whet everyone's appetite by putting up signs all over town, and wouldn't you know it? She didn't come. In about an hour and a half, folks are going to start getting suspicious. They'll catch on quick when she doesn't come twirling out on stage.”

“I expect they will,” she agreed.

“All you got to do is pretend to be Ruby,” Steeple pleaded.

“Ruby Leigh Diamond? That can't be the woman's real name,” she said, trying hard not to laugh.

“Alice,” Pickerman blurted out. “Her name's Alice O'Reilly.”

“Then she's Irish.”

“Yes, miss, she is,” Steeple said.

Genevieve smiled. “I'm not Irish,” she said quietly. “My ancestors came here from Africa. Surely you noticed. You cannot think anyone would think I'm Ruby Leigh Diamond, for heaven's sake. Have you lost your wits?”

“Begging your pardon, miss, but I don't think you grasp the seriousness of our predicament. We'll lose our necks if we don't find a pretty lady to go out on stage,” Steeple whined. “You don't have to be Ruby if you don't want to. We can give you another stage name. How about Opal or Emerald?”

“My name is Genevieve. What exactly am I expected to do on stage?”

“Don't you see? We don't rightly care what you do. You're real pretty, and maybe if you twirl around a couple of times and sashay back and forth, folks will think they got their money's worth.”

“Are you about ready to get going?” Adam asked.

She shook her head. “These gentlemen do seem to be in a bind. If I help them out, I could be saving their hides.”

“Yes, miss, that's exactly right,” Pickerman agreed.

She did feel sorry for them, but she was also intrigued by the possibility of replenishing her funds so quickly. It was an appealing proposition. There was a dilemma however.

“I do sing, but only in church,” she explained.

“She sings, Pickerman,” Steeple shouted. “It's a sign, I tell you. She was sent to us.”

“There you have it,” Steeple said. “You sing. That's what you'll do, then.”

“Can you twirl?” Pickerman wanted to know.

Adam was shaking his head. She ignored him and asked, “Is twirling important?”

Steeple shrugged. “I expect so,” he said. “Folks will want to see your ankles.”

She glanced at Adam, saw his dark expression, and knew he'd reached his boiling point.

“I don't think I'll be doing any twirling or sashaying, but I would like to earn thirty dollars. I'll sing for that amount of money and not a dollar less.”

The two men didn't need to discuss the matter. Steeple reached up and shook her hand. “You've got yourself a deal, little lady.”