The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

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      Chapter Three

      The back door to the saloon was tightly shut, only a crack of light appearing below the heavy pine portal. Rosemary stood in the darkness and listened to the sounds from within. A woman’s laughter rippled past her hearing, then the lower tones of a man’s voice, accompanied by a thumping beat as music from the front of the saloon filtered through the crowd.

      Her dark clothing hid her from those who might be passing by the alleyway, a narrow lane running between the town’s business community and a row of houses behind it. Rosemary lifted her hand and formed a fist, rapping hesitantly on the wooden panel.

      From within, there was no cessation of sound, only an additional voice added to the others. “I don’t care if you just rinse them out. Get those glasses back to the bar. Ain’t there any warm water on the stove?”

      The female answered with assurance. “I’m neither cook nor dishwasher, Jason. You’re just lucky I’m good-natured, or I wouldn’t be helpin’ out.”

      “And you’re lucky I’m payin’ you good money for sashayin’ your fanny across that stage, Laura Lee. Most places, you’d be workin’ for tips from your gentlemen friends out front.”

      “Go take care of your customers, sweetie. I’ll bring your glasses out in a minute,” the woman’s voice replied.

      Rosemary lifted her hand to rap again.

      “You’ll have to pound harder, miss. They can’t hear above the noise, lessen you bang good and loud.” The voice from behind her spun Rosemary in place. She staggered as her injured ankle gave way, and her hand grasped for purchase on the shoulder of the young boy facing her.

      “You startled me,” she croaked. “I thought I was alone here.”

      He grinned widely, tugging his cap from his head. “I don’t make no noise, ma’am. I been watchin’ you, and I figured you needed some advice.”

      Before Rosemary could utter a word of protest, his fist made contact with the door three times, each thump hard enough to rattle the hinges. She looked around, anxious lest anyone should see her in such a place, and was about to make her escape when the door creaked open.

      “See, what’d I tell you?” the boy asked, his grin visible in the light streaming from the open doorway.

      “Ma’am?” The golden-haired woman inside the building appeared to take Rosemary’s measure. Her lips curled in a smile of amusement and she swept her hand in welcome. “Come on in, why don’t you? No sense in standin’ around outside. You come to see old Jason? Or maybe to convert the customers?”

      Rosemary stepped within the doorway, casting a glance behind her for the youth who had hastened this moment. He was gone, not even a shadow betraying his presence.

      “You’re the preacher’s girl, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

      Rosemary nodded, assailed by the scent of hard drink and heavy perfume. “I wanted to talk to the owner, Mr. Stillwell, if he’s available.”

      “He’s at the bar,” the blond woman told her. “I’m Laura Lee, his…” She smiled, then waved her hand in Rosemary’s direction. “I work here, honey. What do you need with Jason?”

      The door across the room swung open and a dark-haired man strode in, the noise from behind him assailing Rosemary’s ears with a harsh symphony of sound. “Where in hell’s those glasses, Laura Lee? I need them now.”

      He halted abruptly when he saw Rosemary, and his brows rose in question. “Didn’t know we had company,” he said slowly.

      “I’ll get the glasses,” Laura Lee told him, turning to the sink. “The young lady wants to see you, Jason.”

      Jason moved closer to Rosemary. “Last time I saw you, you was walkin’ behind your daddy’s coffin on the way to the cemetery. You’re a long way from the parsonage, ma’am.”

      “I wanted to see you, Mr. Stillwell, and I thought this might be the best time. I hesitated to come to your business establishment during the day.”

      He nodded, and then, as if he had just remembered his manners, he pulled a chair from the table and offered her a seat. Rosemary settled herself on the edge of the chair, aware of the sidelong looks she was receiving from Laura Lee, who splashed water from the stove into a dishpan.

      Rosemary leaned forward, hoping she would not sound too much like a beggar asking for alms. “I need a job, Mr. Stillwell, and I heard that you were looking for an accountant to do your books. I’m very good with figures, sir, and I desperately need work. I thought I might be able to—”

      Jason held up a hand, halting her effectively. “You want to work for me, ma’am? I don’t think so.” He grinned widely. “I’d have every woman in town after my head if I were to take you on in any way, shape or form. Surely a lady like you can find respectable work without having to knock on my back door.”

      “You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” Rosemary said glumly. “But, I’ve been everywhere in town that might need help, and no one has a position open.”

      “Your daddy didn’t leave you too well fixed, did he?”

      “No. He truly thought he had years ahead of him to see to my future. There was only a little money in the bank, and the funeral took a good share of that. I need to find work and a place to live.” She cast him a look of chagrin. “Believe me, I looked everywhere else first. I still can’t believe I had the nerve to come here. You were my last resort.”

      Laura Lee sashayed past with the tray of wet glasses, and leaned down to whisper loudly in Jason’s ear. “You could always use a new singer, Jason. Bet she has a repertoire that’d set your customers on their ear.”

      “Don’t give the lady a hard time, Laura Lee,” he said with a chuckle, one wide palm swatting the blond’s ruffled skirt as she passed the table and went on through the swinging door.

      “I need a bookkeeper, sure enough, Miss Gibson, but it’s a job for a man. Besides, you know I wouldn’t dare hire you. I only stay in business by the skin of my teeth as it is, what with half the women in town wantin’ to close me down.”

      “They do?”

      Jason leaned closer. “They don’t approve of their husbands coming in for a drink or a hand of cards, let alone climbin’ the stairs to visit—” He frowned. СКАЧАТЬ