CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hank opened his eyes slowly. Something had disturbed him, but he wasn't sure what until another tap came on the door. It was daylight and judging by the angle of the sunlight shining in the window it must be approaching noon. He realised he couldn't even remember returning to his room at the boarding house and discovered he was lying on top of the quilt, still dressed, his mouth dry and foul-tasting. His head felt as if someone had hit it with a hammer. He sat up with a groan and slowly got to his feet, gulped a glass of water and then washed his face in the bowl on the chest in front of the window.

"Hank? You alright?" Clarice's voice came through the door.

Everything that had happened the previous day came flooding back; their picnic and subsequent antics and then Clarice telling him she had a job at Red Burrows' saloon; that she was a whore.

"Hank!"

"Yeah!" He grimaced as his head pounded more in response to the shout and went to open the door.

Clarice was leaning against the wall outside, wearing a new dress of deep blue trimmed with black lace, her hair piled up on top of her head and pinned there with little tendrils escaping around her neck. She was beautiful and as she gazed at him with a smile he decided on the spot that somehow he would cope with her job as long as he could have her. She held out a cup of steaming coffee.

"Figured ya might want this. Ya slept half the day away."

"Thanks." He took the cup and gulped some of the coffee, immediately beginning to feel better.

Clarice stepped closer to him and reached up to give him a quick kiss. "It's just a job, ya know, Hank," she said softly. "I'm with you, right?"

"I guess."

"So stop worryin' about it." Another little kiss. "What're ya gonna do today?"

"I dunno. Play poker, I guess," he grinned.

"Wanna have lunch at the café? My treat," Clarice offered.

"I ain't havin' a woman buy me lunch," said Hank. "I'll pay."

"Alright, but you ain't gonna say no to this." She held out some folded bills. "This is what I owe ya, for gettin' the room for me."

Hank took it and counted ten dollars, then nodded and put the money into his pocket. "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready," he said.

Clarice left him to it and he quickly stripped off his rumpled clothes, washed up and put on a fresh shirt and suit, then went downstairs to meet her, his anger and misery of the previous night almost forgotten.

The next few months flew by and for a while Hank forgot about his desire to leave Denver. He and Clarice became inseparable, spending the afternoons together and eating supper at the cafe each day before she went to work. She had Sundays off and they usually had picnics and fun in the woods on those days, often fueled by liquor. It turned out that Clarice had the same liking for whiskey as Hank himself and the pair frequently shared a bottle, becoming insensible and upsetting any of the townsfolk they ran into on the way back to the boarding house afterwards. Later when the house was in darkness, one of them would sneak into the other's room and smother giggles and groans as best they could to avoid upsetting Mrs Brady.

However, Mrs Brady wasn't a fool or hard of hearing and quickly became irritated by the arrangement. It hadn't taken her long to cotton onto what Hank's girl did for a living either and she tolerated her only because Hank had been such a reliable guest for so long, although she made it clear to Hank she considered Clarice a poor influence and only refrained from evicting her because of him.

Clarice's occupation still annoyed Hank, but he swallowed his feelings about it. There was no point discussing it with Clarice any more; the one other time he had said anything had created an enormous row between them with Clarice threatening to end their relationship and move into the saloon. Hank was head over heels with her by then and would have done just about anything to hold onto her, except tell her how he felt about her. She hadn't been particularly forthcoming about her own feelings except to say she liked him and he feared he would make a fool of himself if he said too much. She didn't like to look too far ahead or make plans and the few times she had talked about her past indicated she rarely stayed in the same place for more than a few months and never tied herself to anything or anyone, so he guessed she must be pretty fond of him to still be with him getting on for a year later. However, they were still in Denver and the more he thought about it, the more he began to want to get away. He had been saving a lot of his poker winnings during that time and despite the small scale games, had amassed enough to make the move. If only he could convince Clarice to go with him. It turned out that an innocent conversation about Clarice's work led to just that.

"How long ya been doin' it?" he asked her during one of their picnics. She was complaining that at twenty-four most of the other girls were much younger and making her feel old. The question prompted her to tell him a couple of things that she never had before, such as her roots.

"Since I was fifteen. My ma was a whore too," Clarice said. "Never knew my pa; he was one of her customers. She always said I was an accident and I cost her almost a year's good money." She smiled wrily. "She resented me till the day she died. I was fourteen then and I guess I took over from her. Didn't know how to do anythin' else. Guess ya don't know what it's like to have yer ma hate ya."

"My ma died when I was born," Hank said shortly. He didn't add that he knew what it was like to have a father hate you. He had never told Clarice anything about his family and didn't plan to start now; it was easier to forget about them, except for Nana who he still wrote to regularly.

"Sorry," Clarice said.

Hank shrugged. "I know ya grew up in Chicago. What then?"

"I moved from one place to another. I forget the names of them all. I ain't much good as an employee. Kept havin' to run." She smiled now. "My last boss was real mean. I was there a year; woulda been much less, but he wouldn't let me outta my contract. In the end I stole his Saturday night takin's to get a ticket on the stagecoach out."

"Ya had a contract?" Hank said in surprise.

"Oh, yeah, most guys who keep whores make 'em sign somethin', otherwise they'd always be uppin' and leavin' when they had enough. I got lucky here; Red ain't made me sign nothin'." She smirked. "I get away with pleasin' myself pretty much. Guess I could leave too, whenever I wanted."

"Ya get paid half of what he takes, right?" Hank mused.

"Yeah. Plus tips. How else d'ya think I can buy all these fine frocks?" She stroked her hand down the bodice of her latest acquisition - a gown of golden yellow with trimmings of a rusty red colour. "What're ya thinkin', Hank? Plannin' on settin' up yer own place?" she asked then.

He shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. Maybe. I still wanna leave Denver."

"Well, I don't care where I live," Clarice said. "Ya know, if we set up together, like partners, I wouldn't have to entertain nobody but you. I'd be too busy keepin' the other girls in line. I know that'd please ya." She leaned over and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, then got to her feet. "We oughta get back to town, it looks like it's gonna rain."

"Sure." Hank got up, grabbed the picnic basket and they set off. He was fairly silent on the walk back, thinking about what Clarice had said. She was willing to leave Denver with him. If he set up his own saloon and found some girls to keep the customers happy, he'd have Clarice all to himself. He grinned now. He knew he had enough money to make the move. Even with the small poker games he'd had to stick to since Lillian, he hadn't really spent all that much and it was still all stashed between his mattress and the base of the bed. All he needed to do was find somewhere for them to go. Preferably somewhere without a saloon type establishment, where the locals would welcome them with open arms. Somewhere like the frontier.

However, he had time to do nothing more than think about it before all his hopes were threatened by something that happened a few weeks before, which he could barely remember.

"Hank!" Clarice banged loudly on his bedroom door and he got up quickly. She sounded mad as hell. He pulled the door open, clad in only his underwear.

"What's wrong?" he asked, dragging a hand through his hair and yawning.

"I wanna talk to ya," she said through her teeth, eyes flashing.

"Come in, then." He stood back to let her pass, but she stayed where she was.

"Not here, I don't want Mrs Brady hearin' our business."

"Fine, I'll get dressed." Hank turned away and grabbed a pair of pants. He had no idea what was the matter with her. She'd been in a lousy mood for weeks, rowing with him over nothing or just avoiding him altogether. Her constant bad temper had begun to irritate him and now that she had woken him up after only four hours sleep, he was spoiling for a fight. He fastened his shirt quickly, shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his coat. "Let's go." He stepped out of the room and closed the door.

They walked in silence towards the cafe, around its perimeter and away from the last building until they were out of earshot.

"What d'ya want, Clarice?" he began.

"Ya mean you ain't noticed anythin' different?"

Hank sighed heavily. She often didn't come out and say what she meant, but tried to make you guess. Never having had a relationship before, he always wondered if other women were like that. Lillian hadn't been, but then they hadn't been together either. Not like this.

"I noticed the lousy mood you've been in lately," he said now. "But I ain't a mind reader."

"I'm pregnant," she said.

"What?" Out of all the things Clarice could have said to him, that was the last thing he expected. "How?" he added stupidly.

"How?" she echoed. "Did no one ever teach ya 'bout the birds and the bees?"

"I meant how'd it happen when we always use rubbers?" Hank snapped, his mind whirling. Pregnant? He was going to be a father? He'd probably be a lousy father; just like his own. He realised she was speaking when she shrieked at him suddenly.

"Are ya even listenin' to me?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"About five or six weeks ago, we were in the woods with a coupla bottles of whiskey. Don't ya remember?"

"We were out of our minds drunk," Hank frowned.

"Yeah, I was. You, apparently were still capable of somethin'."

"Ya weren't complainin' at the time," remembered Hank.

"I didn't know what I was doin'! This is all your fault!" raged Clarice. "What the hell am I gonna do with a kid?"

"Folks have kids all the time, it ain't the end of the world," said Hank.

"Isn't it? I never wanted a kid. What have I got to offer a child? If it's a girl it'd most likely end up a whore and a boy..."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Hank interrupted. "I'll look after ya. Ya know I will. And the kid too."

"Ya weren't lookin' after me too well when this happened, were ya?" she retorted. "So, ya'll look after me? What're ya gonna do, Hank? Get a regular job and marry me and be a good husband and pa? D'ya really think that's what I want? Is it what you want?"

"I don't know what ya want, ya never tell me. I wasn't expectin' this, but I ain't runnin' away from it. What's so bad about us bein' together and havin' a kid, huh? Unless ya can't stand me, in which case, why're ya still with me? Why haven't ya run off with one of yer customers?"

Clarice opened her mouth and then shut it again. She turned away and walked a few paces, then came back. "I'm sorry, Hank," she said. "I'm with ya 'cause I love ya. I guess I just ain't too good at sayin' it. Not much better at showin' it either."

"I guess that makes two of us," he said quietly. "I've always loved ya. Somehow I just didn't think it was what ya wanted to hear."

"Maybe now I do." She closed the gap between them and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What're we gonna do? I'll lose my job and I don't know the first thing about kids."

"Nor do I," said Hank. "I guess we'll learn. As for yer job, it ain't that important. I got money. We'll get outta Denver and set up our own place, like ya said."

"Alright," Clarice agreed after only a brief hesitation. "Ya better start lookin' for a place to go. And find a coupla girls to take along. If we go to some small place that ain't got much in the way of entertainment, there probably ain't gonna be much talent there either."

Hank nodded. "If we're takin' other girls along, I'm gonna need more money. There's a big game on in the bar next month; first serious one they've put on. That should do it."

Clarice drew back and looked up at him. "If ya win," she winked.

"I always win. Don't worry about that."

Hank spent the rest of the day with her until she left him to go to the saloon and tell Red she was quitting. Then he went into the bar, ordered a large whiskey and sat thinking. He still found it hard to believe he was going to be a father. By the time the kid was born he would be just on twenty. He only hoped he could be a better father to it than Jorgen had been to him. He was going to make a damned good effort at least. He grinned to himself now as he thought about the future. For the first time it felt like he and Clarice really had one.