CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hank decided not to waste the month leading up to the poker game, but began looking at maps to find a possible location to move to. There was a town called Manitou some sixty miles to the south and a few other small towns close by which seemed to be a likely destination. He bought a horse in readiness for making a trip there to investigate and then obtained a bed roll, water canteen and saddle bags from the general store and a good supply of ammunition for his gun. He decided to leave the next Thursday, camp one night halfway and complete the journey on Friday, spend the weekend looking around Manitou and perhaps the other towns, Soda Springs and Colorado Springs, and then return early the next week.

Hank hadn't yet thought about looking for a couple of girls to employ and decided to leave that until he had somewhere for them to go to. However, it turned out that one came across his path accidentally.

He headed back into town to the general store, realising he had run out of cigars and forgotten to buy some on his previous visit there. As he approached the store, he noticed a young girl appear around the corner of the building, almost tiptoeing and keeping close to the wall. He paused and watched curiously. She had long tangled brown hair and wore a grey dress that looked as if she'd lived and slept in it for the past year. She had heavy black boots on her feet which looked several sizes too big. Her face was grubby and pale under the dirt and she was far too thin. She was obviously one of the beggars who frequently came into the town hoping someone would take pity on them and hand out a few coins.

Hank shrugged and continued into the store, ignoring the girl. He bought half a dozen cigars and shoved them into his vest pocket, then went out onto the porch. He immediately collided with the young waif where she stood gathering apples from a basket there, holding them in her skirt. She let go the edge of her skirt with a gasp and stumbled backwards, letting the apples fall to the ground. Hank automatically grasped her arm to steady her and looked down into her startled green eyes.

"Hey!" The storekeeper charged out of the door. "I've told you before, you little thief! Stay away from here! Next time I catch you stealing from me, I'll have you thrown in jail, you hear me?" He bent and began to rescue the apples from the porch.

Meanwhile the girl jerked her arm free of Hank's grasp and fled. Hank turned back to the storekeeper.

"Ya got somethin' to wrap them apples in?" he asked. "I'll take 'em."

The storekeeper raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he went back into the store, wrapped the six apples in paper and returned to Hank with the package. Hank passed him a coin and took them, then set off in pursuit of the girl. During that brief moment she had been close to him he had seen beauty under the dirt and dust. She was a little on the skinny side, but with a few good meals, a decent dress and a touch of makeup to hide the pallor of her skin, she'd be an ideal candidate for his future saloon.

He found her ten minutes later, hiding in a doorway along the next street. She was crouching on the step, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Hey."

She looked up at Hank's voice, eyes wide with surprise.

"Ya forgot these." He put the package of apples into her hands and now her mouth fell open.

"Ya didn't have to do that," she said.

"Maybe I wanted to." He took hold of her arm again and drew her to her feet. "What's yer name?"

"Myra."

"I'm Hank."

"Well, thank you, Hank; for the apples." She had to tilt her head back quite a way to look at his face and he guessed she couldn't be much more than five-three or four.

"Yer welcome. But I can do better than that, if ya want."

"What d'ya mean?" Myra asked.

"Ya wanna get some supper with me later?"

"Umm…well….." She looked him up and down, taking in his expensive clothes. "I ain't got much else to wear." She dropped her eyes and blushed.

"Don't matter. There's a café on the edge of town; they ain't too particular about what the customers wear so long as they eat plenty."

"Oh! Well, then, thanks, I'd like that," Myra said at once. She raised her head again and smiled, flashing surprisingly white and even teeth.

"Meet me at six," Hank told her. "Ya know the café I mentioned?"

"Sure," she nodded. "I'll be there."

Hank shot her a bright smile and set off back to the boarding house. He intended to tell Clarice about Myra, but when he went up to her room and knocked she told him to go away.

"I'm sick," she groaned from the other side of the door.

"Ya want me to get a doctor?" he called anxiously.

"No! It's 'cause I'm pregnant!" she snapped.

"Ya want Mrs Brady?" Hank persisted.

"No!" exclaimed Clarice. "The woman hates me."

"Anythin' I can get ya?"

"Hank, leave me alone," Clarice replied and could then be heard vomiting.

"Hell," muttered Hank and retreated to his own room. She was bad tempered most of the time these days, sick or not. He couldn't wait for them to get out of Denver – maybe a new town and proper place to live would improve her disposition.

Hank spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, then freshened up and set off to the café to meet Myra. Clarice still hadn't emerged from her room and all was silent so he guessed she must be sleeping.

When he arrived at the café, Myra was already waiting by the fence, fidgeting and looking very nervous. Her hair was shining and brushed smooth, her face pink from a scrubbing and she wore a clean but faded red dress a couple of sizes too big for her. Hank smiled as he walked towards her.

"Here already?" he said.

"I didn't wanna keep ya waitin'," Myra said, blushing prettily.

Hank grinned. "Ya hungry?"

"Starvin'," admitted Myra.

"Let's eat, then." He led her into the café and pulled a chair out for her at a small wooden table by the fence. She looked surprised as she sat down. He seated himself opposite and leaned on the table as the woman running the café walked over.

"What can I get ya?" she asked. "Just coffee or some food?"

"Both, thanks," said Hank.

"Well, it's meatloaf today and blueberry pie for dessert."

Myra's eyes lit up and Hank smiled. "That sounds good, we'll have both," he said. The woman nodded and returned a moment later with two cups of coffee, then went off again to fetch the food.

"I dunno how to thank ya for this," Myra said softly. "Never had no one wanna help me before."

"First time for everythin'," Hank said.

"Ya don't sound like ya look," she blurted out then and reddened.

"Yeah, well, my family are a stuck up bunch; got away soon as I could. What about you? No kin?"

"Just my sister. Our ma and pa died last year of a fever," Myra told him. "They was rentin' a house so after they was gone, me and Suzannah had to leave."

"What've ya been doin' since?" asked Hank.

"Stealin'," Myra admitted, hanging her head.

"Couldn't ya get a job?"

"Ain't nothin' for someone like me. Ain't had no schoolin'." She shrugged. "Besides, Suzannah's only ten, I couldn't leave her all day."

"Where is she now?"

"Waitin' for me down by the creek. We got a little shack there we sleep in."

"How old are ya?" asked Hank.

"Seventeen."

"I could help ya," Hank said now, sipping his coffee. "I'm lookin' for a coupla girls to work for me. I'm gonna be leavin' town soon. I'm gonna set up a saloon about sixty, seventy miles from here. Need some nice-lookin' girls to keep the customers happy."

"Nice-lookin'? That ain't me," sighed Myra, her face falling again.

Hank reached across the table and touched her hand. "You're beautiful," he said softly. She looked up in surprise. He was smiling at her like she was the most amazing girl he'd ever met and she was immediately lost.

"Ya really want me to work for ya?" she whispered.

"Yeah. We'll earn good money. Ya'll have a place to live, plenty of food, nice things to wear."

"What about Suzannah?" she asked.

"She can come with us and we'll find somewhere for her to live. There's bound to be a family there who'll take in a young girl. Maybe send her to school too. Ya won't have to worry about her then and ya'll get Sundays off work so ya can see her."

"Really? Ya'd do all that for me? Ya hardly know me," Myra said in wonder.

"I want to, though. Knew it right off when I nearly knocked ya down outside the store." Hank let go of her hand now, but carried on smiling dazzlingly at her as their food arrived.

They didn't talk much during the meal, Myra doing her best to eat politely but clearly desperate to shovel the food into her mouth as fast as possible. Afterwards Hank ordered more coffee.

"You ain't asked exactly what the work is gonna be," he pointed out.

"I don't really care," said Myra. "I wanna be able to look after Suzannah properly and this is the only chance I got."

"Well, like I said, ya'll have to keep the saloon customers happy," Hank said. "Ya been with a man before?"

Myra blushed furiously and glanced from left to right, worried other diners may be listening in.

"No," she whispered, looking down into her coffee mug.

"Well, don't worry about that right now," Hank told her. "Ya'll be alright. It ain't gonna be for a little while anyhow. I gotta go find somewhere for us to move to."

Myra looked up again. "How long?" she asked.

"Few weeks. Look, I'll give ya some money to keep you and yer sister goin' until then," he told her. "Ya won't have to worry about food or nothin'. I gotta sort out a contract too."

"Contract?"

"Yeah, for the job. Saloon girls all have 'em. Just means you ain't gotta worry about losin' the job, least not before it runs out," Hank said, feeling a little guilty for tricking her in such a way. She was so innocent and trusting, but he couldn't help thinking about what Clarice had said. The last thing he wanted to do was get all set up and then have the girls run out on him.

"How long would it be for?" asked Myra.

"Well, ya said yer sister's ten, so yer gonna have to look after her for a few years yet," Hank reasoned. "We could say five years. Then both of ya'll have a proper roof over yer heads and ya won't have to be stealin' no more."

"Five years?" Myra frowned and chewed her lip for a long moment. Hank wondered what she was thinking – was she willing to spend five years entertaining to get herself and her sister off the streets?

"Alright." Myra nodded. "I'll do it. I ain't got nothin' to lose."

Hank smiled at her again, then looked up as the café owner came over to collect the money for the meal. He gave her a whole dollar and asked her to pack up some extra food for Myra's sister, then when she turned away reached across the table and grasped Myra's hand, pressing ten dollars into it.

"Here, this'll keep ya for a while."

"It's too much," protested Myra. "I don't wanna owe ya."

"Yer workin' for me now," Hank reminded her. "Call it an advance. Make sure you and Suzannah get plenty to eat. Ya might be able to get somethin' to wear out of it too."

"Thank you," Myra said, smiling now. "So what happens now?"

"Have supper with me again tomorrow; I'll bring a contract with me," Hank said. "I'm goin' off lookin' for a place to move on Thursday so after tomorrow ya won't see me for a few days. When I get back we'll catch up and make plans. Ya can meet Clarice too, maybe tomorrow."

"Who's Clarice?"

"My…uh…partner," Hank said.

"She gonna work in the saloon too?" asked Myra.

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe she'll give me some tips, then," Myra said shyly, getting up as Hank pulled her chair out for her. "Thank you for the supper."

"Yer welcome. See ya tomorrow."

He watched her go, carrying the package of food supplied by the café owner for her sister. He wondered what Clarice would think of Myra and hoped they would get along. Just lately it seemed that Clarice didn't like anyone, least of all Hank himself, despite the fact that only a short while ago she had said she loved him. Still, it must be hell being sick all the time, he reasoned. She'd be better in a few weeks and by then they'd have a new home.