CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Where ya from?" Hank asked as he led Clarice towards the boarding house.
"Here and there. What about you?"
"I always lived in Denver up to now, but I'm plannin' on leavin' pretty soon."
"Not too soon, I hope, I only just met ya!"
Hank grinned. "Maybe I'll hang around a while. What made ya come to Denver?"
"Ain't never been before."
Hank glanced at her. With her smart dress and fancy hair arrangement she looked like a lady, but she sure didn't sound like one. She talked like Lillian.
"Ya got luggage or anythin'?" he asked her.
"No. Just what I'm standin' up in. I kinda left the last place in a hurry."
"Where was the last place?"
"I forget. Small town a couple hours east from here."
"No family there?"
"No family anywhere."
"Me neither," agreed Hank. "Except for my Grandma. She lives outta town." He pulled open the door of the boarding house and stood back to allow Clarice to enter first. She whirled past him into the hallway.
"Mrs Brady?" Hank called. "Got a new boarder for ya!"
"Hank," Clarice said softly, turning towards him. "I know this is kinda cheeky, but can ya lend me a night's board? Like I said, I left in a rush with only enough for the stagecoach. I'll pay ya back. Soon as I get a job."
"No problem." Hank pulled some money out of his pocket and handed her ten dollars. "That'll get ya three nights with breakfast."
"Thank you." Clarice slipped the bills into her purse and then turned to face Mrs Brady.
"This is Clarice," Hank said. "She's lookin' for a room."
"I'm new in town," Clarice added.
Mrs Brady looked her up and down approvingly and advised her that board was three dollars a night.
"I'll stay for three," the girl said. "I'm hopin' to get a job quickly, but I'll let ya know if I'm to stay longer."
"Very well." Mrs Brady handed her a key. "Top of the stairs, second door along. Outhouse is in the back, bath tub through there." She pointed to a closed door. "Breakfast at eight in the kitchen there if ya want it."
"Thanks," Clarice nodded, turning back to Hank with a smile.
"I'll show ya 'round the town if ya like," he said now, unable to believe his luck that such a beautiful girl had arrived and apparently liked his company.
"Sure, that'll be good."
Hank spent the rest of the day with Clarice. They wandered around the centre of Denver, looking in store windows and chatting. Despite Clarice's apparent love of talking, she said very little about herself and all Hank actually found out about her was that she had lived in Chicago when she was a child and was now twenty-three years old, five years his senior. She apparently had no roots anywhere and replied to his question about what she did for a living with 'this and that'. He overlooked her reluctance to tell him anything about herself in his delight that she was showing such an interest in him.
When evening approached, Hank took her to the café close to the boarding house and bought supper for them both before taking her back to their accommodation.
"I think I'll get an early night," Clarice said, yawning as they stood in the hallway. "It's been a long day."
"Sure. I'm gonna go out again. Maybe I'll see ya at breakfast," Hank said.
"Maybe ya will." Much to Hank's surprise, Clarice reached up and brushed her lips against his cheek before she hurried off up the stairs.
Unable to wipe the grin off his face, Hank went out again and strolled down to the bar. He spent the rest of the evening playing a few games of poker, drinking and smoking, looking forward to breakfast the following morning. By the time he returned to the boarding house it was after midnight and he went to bed, but found himself unable to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of the lovely Clarice and what they might do together the next day.
However, Hank was to be disappointed in the morning when he ate breakfast alone. Mrs Brady said 'the young miss' hadn't risen yet and by the time the meal was finished there was still no sign of her. Hank debated hanging around the building until she appeared, but fearing he would seem too desperate, took off to find someone to play poker with. His plans to leave Denver left him for the moment as he thought of Clarice all day, wondering what she was doing. He didn't see her until the evening when she appeared at the café where he had just ordered supper.
"Hey, Hank." She threw herself onto the chair opposite before he could even get up.
"Clarice!" He put down his knife and fork, food forgotten. "What ya been doin' today?"
"Lookin' for work. Sorry I missed ya this mornin', I was too darn tired to get up."
"It's alright. Did ya find a job?" asked Hank.
"Not yet, but I will soon. I'll be able to pay ya back in no time."
"There's no rush," Hank said. The café owner appeared then to ask if Clarice wanted a meal. She glanced sheepishly at Hank, her cheeks dimpling with an appealing smile.
"She'll have what I'm havin'," said Hank, handing over another fifty cents.
"Thank you, Hank," Clarice purred when the woman had walked off. "I feel so bad spendin' all yer money. Ya'll get it back outta my first wages, I promise."
"Don't worry about the meal, I'm happy to buy ya dinner," Hank said at once.
Clarice reached across the table and slid her hand into his. "Ya spoil me," she whispered.
After supper, they walked back to the boarding house, Hank now glad of the excuse to have an early night after the previous restless one.
"I ain't goin' in yet, I feel like a walk," Clarice told him. She let go his arm and slid both her hands into his instead. "I'll see ya tomorrow. I'll try to get up for breakfast this time."
She looked up at him, her curious golden eyes laughing, her pink lips soft and inviting, revealing small white teeth. Hank bent to kiss her, his heart thumping rapidly. His mouth touched hers and she responded immediately, her lips teasing and caressing, her hands pulling free of his to slide around him instead. He drew her closer, holding her tight against his body as his tongue plunged into her mouth, his pulse racing. He was disappointed when she pulled out of his arms a moment later and stepped back, smoothing down her dress. She gave him a little smile and then turned and walked away.
Hank watched until she was out of sight, then went into the boarding house and up to his room where he paced around irritably, still able to taste Clarice's lips. Maybe he should have invited her up to his room. She didn't seem in the least shy, but then again he'd only ever been with whores so didn't know what to expect if he tried taking things further too quickly. He spent another restless night thinking about it and decided he would just have to see how things went.
When Hank went down for breakfast at eight-fifteen the next morning he found Clarice already at the table along with two other guests who were staying at the boarding house.
"'Mornin', all," he said, sitting down opposite her.
"'Mornin', Hank," she replied softly. The two elderly men who were the other boarders merely nodded.
"What're ya doin' today, Clarice?" he asked.
"Lookin' for a job again," she said with a sigh. "Maybe we can meet for lunch?"
"Sure." He thought for a moment. "Or maybe I can get some food from the café and we can go for a picnic."
"Just you and me, yes, that'd be nice," Clarice said at once.
He grinned back at her and ignored the disapproving glance of the two old men. After breakfast Clarice went out to look for work and Hank persuaded Mrs Brady to make up a picnic for the pair of them.
"She's a lovely young lady," the woman said, handing Hank a basket.
"Yeah, she is."
"Just be careful, I don't wanna be hearin' of any funny business in my house," Mrs Brady said sternly.
Hank grinned and handed her a dollar. "Thanks for the picnic."
He met Clarice at one o'clock on the other side of the town and they went walking into the wooded area on the way to the Carlisle farm. There was a creek down there and it afforded a nice place to picnic.
"How'd ya get on? Find a job yet?" asked Hank as they tucked into the food.
"I got an offer; I'm thinkin' about it," Clarice replied, but didn't elaborate.
She shuffled closer to Hank's side, resting one hand on his knee and he forgot to ask her what the job was, his pulse immediately beginning to race. He moved the picnic basket out of the way and slid his arms around her, stroking his hand through her long blonde hair as they kissed. She was wearing it loose today and it ran through his fingers like silk.
After a couple of minutes' hesitation, Hank removed his hand from her hair and touched her breast instead, almost expecting her to push him away. However, she kissed him even more heatedly and eventually unfastened half a dozen buttons of her dress and beneath it, her chemise, allowing her breasts to spill out into his hands. He squeezed the soft flesh, stroking his thumbs over the nipples, unable to believe his luck that such a beautiful and eager young woman had fallen right into his lap. Fallen into his lap in a literal sense, he thought, as she rose from the ground, rearranged her skirts and kneeled with one leg either side of his thighs. It occurred to him that at this point it didn't seem likely that she would put a stop to anything he did and he pushed the long skirts upwards to reveal the tops of her black stockings and above them, the pale flesh of her thighs.
Clarice quickly began to relieve Hank of his clothes' deftly unfastening his necktie, the buttons of his shirt, pushing both coat and shirt off his shoulders. His heart thumped wildly and he gripped her tightly, pulling her hips forward so she sat upon the aching part of him still trapped inside his pants. He reached down to unfasten them, biting his lip to suppress a groan. It was then that Clarice pulled back a few inches.
"Woah, wait a minute," she said.
"Huh?"
She didn't answer, but reached behind her to retrieve her purse which lay on the grass. She took something out of it and Hank frowned when he realised it was a rubber. Lillian and the other girls at the saloon always had those - damned things. It surprised him even more than Clarice's eagerness; she so obviously knew what she was doing and was prepared to be doing it.
He stopped thinking and sucked his breath in hard as she slid onto him, forgetting about everything other than the feel of her, the heat of her, the sound of her breathing in his ear, her nails digging hard into his shoulders.
Afterwards she drew away from him and sat beside him on the grass, giving him soft little kisses between breathless gasps as she refastened her dress. He found himself incapable of coherent thought and knew only that he didn't want to let her go.
They walked slowly back to town, hand in hand, Hank doing his best not to grin like a fool. He was disappointed when Clarice said she intended to go back and see about the job and would meet him later for supper. He wanted to spend every minute with her, but would never have said so; she would probably laugh in that light giggly manner she had. He let her go with a sigh and returned to the boarding house to give Mrs Brady her basket and freshen up. Then he began to count off the hours until supper time.
Clarice was late to the café and they had stopped serving by the time she arrived. Hank had picked at a plate of meatloaf, but found himself too excited and anxious to eat and left most of it.
"Sorry, Hank, time goes too fast sometimes," Clarice said, leading him away from the café. "I took the job!"
"That's great," said Hank. "What is it?"
"Workin' in a bar. It's good money; I start tonight so I can pay ya back tomorrow. I'll ask for an advance."
"An advance? Who's gonna pay an advance?" Hank frowned. "Who ya workin' for?"
"Fella named Red Burrows."
"Red?" Hank stopped suddenly and stared at her in dismay.
"Ya know him?" Clarice asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah, I know him."
"Ain't he a good boss?"
"Clarice, the only girls that work for him are whores," Hank said, feeling a little sick.
"I know that, Hank, I didn't come down in the last shower." Clarice's cheeks dimpled and she let out a little giggle. "Entertainin's good money; pays more than most jobs a girl can get."
"Ya done that before?"
"Sure. Ya didn't think I was innocent, did ya?" She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his ear. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna start chargin' ya."
Hank pulled away, puzzled by the new feeling of shock and anger and disappointment. His stomach had coiled itself into a knot and his heart felt like it had sunk down to his boots as he imagined Clarice – his Clarice – entertaining the regulars in Red Burrows' saloon. He hated the thought of it.
"I don't want ya workin' there," he grunted.
"Well, it ain't about what you want, Hank," she said, her smile disappearing. "This is what I do. Yer gonna have to live with it if ya wanna be with me."
"Ya gonna live there?" asked Hank stiffly.
"No. Said I'd rather not; don't wanna be under Red's thumb the whole time. Seems one of his other girls had her own place, but she had a kid. I can usually get what I want though."
Hank flinched and looked away from her. Even after so much time had gone by, he doubted he would ever forget Lillian's death or the fact that he caused it. Clarice mistook his expression for disapproval and simply shrugged.
"Well, it's up to you," she said. "I like ya, but I ain't bein' told where to work. I'm goin' now, don't wanna be late. I guess I'll see ya tomorrow." She turned away from him and strode off briskly towards town.
Hank walked off in the opposite direction, sick, angry and upset and wondering how he was going to deal with this. He certainly didn't want to give her up, but how could he live with her sleeping with other men? He spun around suddenly and slammed his fist into the wooden wall of a lean-to attached to a nearby house. The rotten wood gave way and his fist went right through, leaving his knuckles grazed and splinters embedded in the back of his hand. Immediately an old man appeared out of the house.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, taking a step towards Hank. Then taking in the fury in the young man's face and his clenched fists, the man backed away and retreated indoors. Rather his lean-to than himself.
Hank stalked back the way he had come and went into the bar, suddenly longing for a large whiskey. The drink quickly became several and he slowly drowned his temper and anguish, although nothing could quite blot out the thought of Clarice working in Red's saloon.