CHAPTER TWO

Angelina woke with sunshine blazing in through the window and rose quickly, attending to her ablutions and dressing in a clean frock from her bag. She braided her hair, having lost most of her pins and then opened the door cautiously, her stomach rumbling in protest at having been so long without a meal.

There was no sound from the other two rooms in the corridor, but she could see another room further down, its door open and a stove visible inside. She walked into this room and discovered a fairly large cooking and eating area. A crust of dry bread was left on the table and she cut off a small piece, desperate for some form of nourishment. She was just contemplating cutting off another piece when she heard boots thundering down the stairs and froze in place, waiting for Hank to appear. He walked down the corridor towards Angelina's room, found the door open and then headed to the kitchen.

"There you are." Hank glanced at the remains of the bread. "Hell, don't eat that."

"I was hungry," Angelina said.

"When did you last eat?"

"I can't remember. The day before yesterday, I think."

Hank cursed under his breath. "I'm going over to Grace's Café for breakfast. You better come with me."

"But I haven't…" she began to protest.

"Any money, I know. Like I said, we'll work something out later. After you cook me dinner." He grinned and walked through to the bar. She followed quickly, too hungry to worry any longer.

Hank led the way out into the street and to the left. Angelina noticed a number of people turning to stare curiously. They must think she was one of Hank's whores. She felt her face warming up and looked down at the ground in front of her as she walked.

Grace's Café was perhaps a hundred yards from the saloon; a fenced off area to the side of the livery with wooden tables and chairs outside. Several people were already seated, some with plates of food in front of them and the smell of bacon and eggs and coffee drifted to Angelina's nostrils. Hank strode over to an empty table and pulled a chair out, gesturing to it.

"Have a seat," he said.

"Thank you." Angelina sat down, surprised by his sudden display of manners.

Hank stepped around the other side of the table and sat down too, folding his arms on the table top. Moments later a black woman in an apron hurried over, frowning slightly.

"What are you doing here, Hank?" she asked.

"Good morning to you, too, Grace," he replied with a grin. "I've come for some breakfast. You do serve breakfast, don't ya?"

Grace's frown deepened and she glanced briefly at Angelina and then back at Hank.

"Alright, tell me what you want then, I'm kinda busy." She waved her hand towards the other customers.

"What you got? Bacon, eggs, hash browns? Two plates of everything. And coffee."

Grace scowled.

"Please," added Hank with exaggerated politeness.

Grace marched away without a word and went to her stove.

"She seems to be in a bad mood," Angelina remarked.

"Grace don't like me, is all," Hank said. "Funny, that." He pulled out a cigar and lit it, dragging deep and blowing smoke rings into the air. "So, why'd you leave Denver?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment and cleared her throat. "My parents died. I had to leave," she said shortly.

Hank lowered the cigar from his lips and met her eyes, his brow furrowed. "Sorry to hear that. Must have been hard on you."

"Yes, it was." She swallowed hard.

"You not have any other family in Denver? Or friends?"

"No. The bank took my parents' house and all of their so-called friends made themselves scarce once they realised they may end up having to offer a room to me." Angelina was surprised at herself for being so open with this rough man whom she knew little about, but oddly enough he seemed easy to confide in.

"Shame on 'em." Hank now took another suck on the cigar. "You said you ain't got no money, but you look like you come from money," he mused.

"My parents were comfortably off," she said. "I had a little but when I took the stagecoach from Denver it was robbed. The thieves took my money and that of the other travellers; the horses too."

"So where are these other people?"

"Indians came. The two men were killed and the ladies taken."

"How come they didn't take you an' all?"

"I was…uh…out of sight. Freshening up," she said, blushing.

"Ah." He grinned suddenly. "Lucky for you, eh?"

"Perhaps I would have been better off dead," she sighed, reminded all too vividly of the loss of her parents and the nightmare since.

"You wouldn't have been dead if the Indians had gotten hold of you," Hank said. "You know what they do with white women? Use 'em for breeding."

Angelina shuddered and looked down at the table top. Hank continued to smoke his cigar in silence and then Grace returned with a tray containing two plates of food, knives and forks and two large tin mugs of steaming black coffee accompanied by a dish of sugar and a small jug of milk. Hank picked up one mug, dumped several lumps of sugar in it and sipped it. Angelina poured milk in hers, but left it unsweetened.

The food was wonderful. Two large slices of bacon, two fried eggs, hash browns and beans with a thick slab of bread on the side of the plate. Angelina ate every scrap and was only two or three bites behind Hank, who shovelled the food down his neck as if he were feeding a pack of wolves.

"Don't know where you put all that, little thing like you," Hank commented, finishing his coffee.

The girl reddened. "I felt as if I hadn't eaten for a week," she admitted.

Hank grinned and got up. Angelina rose too and Grace immediately hurried over.

"That'll be a dollar," she said.

"Put in on my account," Hank drawled.

"You ain't got an account, Hank," Grace snapped.

"Maybe if I did, you'd get more business outta me." He pulled a dollar out of his pocket and handed it over.

"I'm not sure I need more of your business," Grace said and walked away.

Shrugging, Hank led the way back to the saloon. At the door they met another man whom Hank introduced as Jake, co-owner of the saloon and the town's barber.

"This is Angelina," Hank said, gesturing to her.

"Bit prim, ain't she?" Jake said. "Don't tell me she answered the ad."

Hank glanced down at her. "Nope. Just needed a room." He opened the door to the saloon and propelled Angelina inside. Jake went on his way.

In the bar were two girls, apparently the working girls of the establishment. Both blonde and dressed in frocks barely covering their breasts, the pair lounged around gossiping.

"Mornin', Hank," one said. "Where you been?"

"Out," he grunted.

"Got a new one, then," the other girl commented.

"This is Angelina," Hank introduced again. "And no, she ain't 'a new one'."

"Oh? What's she doin' here then? Keepin' her to yourself, Hank?" the first girl teased, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Mind yer business." Hank put his hand on Angelina's back and hurried her through the rear of the bar and towards the kitchen. "Them two are Kathy and Jane. Sure you can guess what they do here."

"Mmm." She knew she was blushing again. Hank grinned.

"Don't worry about them, they won't give you any bother." He flung open some of the doors in the kitchen sideboard and indicated pots and pans. Then he pulled open a narrow door in the wall which led to a cold storage room. "Plenty of food things in there. You better get started; Jake and me'll be wanting some dinner around two o'clock." He walked out of the room and left her to it.

Angelina stood still for a moment, thinking. She had been lucky really. Hank could quite easily have taken advantage of her. He towered above her by a good ten inches and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds, but instead he'd been considerate and even bought her breakfast. Whatever might happen after today she at least owed him a good dinner. She went into the storage room to see what she could find to cook.