24 July

"What exactly are the rules of poker?"

Disbelief overwhelming him at the question, Hank looked up from where he was watering down the whisky and took in Eloise's quizzical expression as she stood on the other side of the bar drying glasses. He hadn't asked her to do it, and indeed the action in and of itself made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but having returned from Grace's after breakfast, she had lifted the cloth as though it were part of her daily chores, and he hadn't had the heart to tell her to stop. "Ain't ya ever seen a game played before?"

"No, well…not a game like I imagine is going to go on in here today. I've seen my father play a few hands, but it was all very civilised."

"Never played yerself?"

"No, we ladies tend to stick to solitaire or bridge, and I've been known to play an occasional hand of whist, but never for money or anything like that."

"And you wanna learn how to play?"

"Well, not exactly, but it would be good to have an idea of what was going on."

"Goin' on where?"

"In here."

Laughing, he recapped the bottle and added it the assortment of others collected behind the bar ready for the day's rush. "Ya ain't gonna be in here durin' the game."

Looking up from her task, she met his gaze. "Why not?"

"Told ya before, yer bad for business and there's gonna be a lot of men in here today drinkin' a lot of whisky."

"Well, I could just…sit in the corner, surely?"

"Don't understand ya sometimes," he shook his head. "Coupla days ago, ya weren't even comfortable settin' foot inside this place, now ya wanna be in the bar watching a bunch of stinkin' drunk men play poker and ya wanna know the rules?"

"When you put it like that, I suppose it does sound rather absurd. But then it would be an interesting story to tell once I get back home."

He paused, a fresh bottle in the air. "Yer goin' home then."

"I don't know," she sighed. "Sometimes I think I should get on the stage tomorrow night and go home; other times I think I should get on the stage tomorrow night and go somewhere else…and then sometimes I think I should just stay here. Not here obviously, but…in the town."

"Growin' on ya."

"I suppose it is, in a way. I've never been anywhere like this in my life before or met certain types of people before."

"People like me?"

"Truthfully, yes. If you'd said to me a few weeks ago that I'd be living in a saloon and that my most trusted confidante would be a brothel-keeper, I'd have laughed you all the way into the Pacific. It sounds like something out of a novel."

"Most trusted confidante?"

"Well, you're the only one who knows the full story of how I ended up here, though Lord knows why I felt the need to tell someone I barely know. Doesn't that make you my confidante?"

"Guess so. What other secrets ya plannin' on tellin' me?"

"I don't think I have any others to tell." She paused. "I bet you have some though. I bet there's tales you could tell me about Hank Lawson that would make my hair curl."

Moving out from behind the bar, he reached out and carelessly tossed the ends of her hair. "Reckon yer hair's curly enough." Mechanically he began lifting down the chairs from the tables and arranging them, glancing back to see her carefully and methodically continuing with her task. "Yer lucky ya know."

She looked up, "In what way?"

"Grew up in a nice home with parents who loved ya. Not everybody gits that."

"No, I suppose they don't," she mused. "Does it make me a terrible person that I ran away from them?"

"No. Got a right to be happy and if what they wanted weren't gonna make ya happy, ya had every right to run away."

"Most women in my position wouldn't have run away though. They would just have married the gentleman in question and made the best of it, hoping that love would grow over time. I suppose my parents expected me to do just that. I've never defied them on anything before."

"Well, guess if ya do end up goin' back, they'll know for future that they can't just rely on ya doin' what they want."

"I suppose so." She put the glass down. "Is it alright if I go for a walk?"

"Don't need my permission."

"Thank you. I'll be back in time to help more later."

"Ellie, ya ain't gonna need to be helpin'. Already told ya, yer gonna need to go elsewhere today."

"We'll see," she replied, smiling somewhat mischievously at him before heading to the door.

He watched her depart, thinking for not the first time that she was like no other woman he had ever met before. There were comparisons with Michaela, of course, given they were both well-bred and hailed from big cities, but there was a different quality about Eloise that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was almost as though her old life had been pretend and that here, in Colorado Springs, her true nature was being allowed to shine through. After all, there was no way in hell Michaela would ever want to clean glasses or watch a poker game in the saloon.

There was certainly a part of him that would miss her once she was gone.

XXXX

Eloise let out a long breath as she stepped out into the warm sunshine, glancing back briefly at the saloon before beginning to make her way slowly down the street, unsure of where she was going, but knowing that she needed time to think. Hank had been right in what he had said, she was lucky to have lived the life she had. A glance around how some people lived in Colorado Springs told her that. Frontier life was so different from being in the city. She had never wanted for food or clothes, enjoyed the benefits of indoor plumbing and there had always been a vast array of entertainment to enjoy. Here, life was so different, so much simpler and whilst she had only been in town such a short time, she couldn't help but feel it grow on her more and more with each passing moment.

She had never really considered it before but, here, she felt free.

As she made her way down past Michaela's clinic, she saw Horace and Myra coming towards her and immediately her mind returned to the conversation she'd had with Hank the previous afternoon. Or not had, depending on how you considered it. There was clearly a history between Hank and Myra that he found painful to discuss and yet had seemingly wanted to share with her, to some degree or other. When she had stated that he must never have been in love, having never married, and he had disavowed her of that…she now couldn't help but wonder if, at some time, he had been in love with Myra.

"Miss Eloise!" Horace called to her, and she saw that he was waving something in his hand.

"Good morning, Horace…Myra," she greeted them. "It's another lovely day."

"Yes, yes, it is," Horace replied, then stopped. "I…uh…"

"Just tell her Horace!" Myra said, in an exasperated tone.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, this telegram came today and…" he held it out to her.

"Is it for me?"

"No, but it's about you."

"About me?" Taking it from his hand she scanned the words. "Reaching out for information on my bride, Eloise Ward, 29 years of age, auburn hair, blue eyes, last seen in Denver on July 21st. Reward payable on receipt of information leading to her recovery, Thomas Lewis Esq…" She trailed off. "Recovery? He makes me sound like a package that's gone astray." She passed back the offending piece of paper. "When did this come in?"

"About an hour ago," Horace replied. "Best I can make out, it's been sent out to all the towns in the area."

"Oh."

"Are you really a runaway bride?" Myra asked.

"No, well…yes I suppose so…" her mind started to race. It was clear that Thomas, and by extension her family, didn't know where she was and yet she wasn't naïve enough not to realise that when money was involved, people changed. There may be people she considered friends who would use their knowledge of her for financial gain.

Hank…?

"No," she shook her head. "No, he wouldn't."

"Who wouldn't what?" Horace asked, and she quickly realised she had spoken aloud.

"Nothing…uh…Horace, could you send a telegram for me, to my parents?"

"Sure, do you want to come down to the office and do it now?"

"Yes, no time like the present." Falling into step with them, they made their way back down the street to the office and every so often she caught Myra stealing glances at her. "I was supposed to get married, and I changed my mind," she offered finally. "There's not really any more to it than that." To her credit, Myra didn't ask anything further and, moments later, they were standing in the telegraph office.

"What do you want to say?" Horace asked, taking his pencil from behind his ear.

"Well, it's to Mr and Mrs Alexander Ward, San Francisco, California. To Mother and Father. I am well and currently living in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I…" she paused, wondering what to say when she still had no idea of her long-term plans. "I do not yet know my plans, but I will wire again soon. Please do not worry. Lou."

"Lou?" Horace looked up.

"Yes," she felt her face pinken, "it's the nickname my parents have for me."

"I think it's lovely," Myra said.

"Will you send it now?"

"Sure will," Horace said, "and I'll let you know if I get a reply."

"Thank you." Dropping some coins on the counter, she turned and left the office, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. Who knew what her parents' reaction would be upon finding out where she was. Would they be happy and relieved that she was alive, or would they be furious about what she had done, the shame and embarrassment she had caused to two families.

All thoughts of further perambulation abandoned, she found herself hurrying back to the saloon, pushing open the door hurriedly and clearly startling Hank, who jumped slightly, his hand going for the gun in his belt.

"Horace got a telegram about me."

"Ya come barrellin' in here like that again, yer liable to git yer head blown off."

"Did you hear me?" she pressed. "Horace got a…"

"Yeah, I heard ya. What did it say?" Quickly, she relayed the contents. "So, what ya gonna do?"

"I asked Horace to wire my parents."

"Telling them yer here? Don't that kinda defeat the purpose of ya runnin' away?"

"In one sense yes, but…surely, it's better that they know I'm safe rather than worrying about me. If Thomas is sending out wires all over the country, then they must not have any idea where I am."

"And what did ya tell them? Just wanted to let ya know I'm livin' in a saloon in a frontier town with a brothel-keeper?"

"Well, no, of course not. Putting it like that makes it sound as though we're somehow…you know…involved."

He laughed, "Well, we sure ain't involved if that's what ya wanna call it."

"No."

"Reckon folks might turn ya in if there's money to be made?"

"Would you?" she asked, meeting his gaze. For all she had told herself that he wouldn't, how could she really be sure? This was a man she had known barely three days and yet he was the first person she had run to upon receipt of the news.

"Probably," he replied, "if I didn't know ya."

"But you do know me," she said, holding his gaze.

"I know ya some."

The same strange and yet not unwelcome sensation washed over her again as she looked into his eyes. For perhaps the first time in her life, she truly didn't know how she felt. He was nothing that she would have ever envisaged and yet there was something in the way he looked at her, in the way he acted towards her that made her feel…

"Miss Eloise! Miss Eloise, you in here?" Tearing her gaze away from his, she turned to see Horace standing at the saloon door, waving what looked suspiciously like another telegram. "I got a reply to your reply."

"Already?"

"Yes, it's from your folks. Looks like they're coming to get you." Stepping inside, he gingerly held out the paper and she took it from him.

"Lou, so happy to hear you're safe. Mother, Thomas and I will make haste to Colorado Springs and be there within the week…they're coming here…"

"Lou?" Hank's derisory tone broke suddenly into her thoughts.

"Oh, it's…what they call me. A nickname, like Ellie."

"Ellie sounds a helluva lot better than Lou."

"What do I do?" she looked at him, hoping that somehow, he would have the magic answer. "They're coming here, all three of them. What do I do?"

"Seems like ya got a coupla choices," he replied, leaning back against the bar. "Wait for 'em or run."

"Run where?"

"Another town?" he shrugged. "Plenty of 'em just like this one all over the country, so I'm told."

"And then what? Thomas sends out another wire looking for me, I tell them where I am and the whole chase starts again?"

"Sounds like ya've answered yer own question."

"You mean I should wait for them." He nodded. Sinking down into an available chair, she let out a long sigh, "I don't even want to think about what they're going to say to me when they get here. And Thomas…he must be so angry with me."

"Reckon ya can go now Horace," Hank said, his tone dismissive. "She got the message."

"Oh…yes…of course. I'm sorry Miss Eloise," Horace said, backing out of the door and disappearing into the sunshine.

"What makes ya care what this Thomas thinks or says?"

"Because I was supposed to marry him and by running away, I've embarrassed him. I didn't fulfil my part of the obligation…"

"What obligation? Man asks a woman to marry him, she says yes, don't mean that she can't change her mind. Ain't like ya signed nothin'," he raised his eyebrows knowingly at her.

"No, I appreciate that, but…if Thomas is coming here then perhaps he means to berate me or…"

"Or what?"

"Or perhaps he still wants to marry me."

"But ya don't wanna marry him, so…"

"I know, but…I've always done what's been expected of me, all my life and until now, like I said before, I've never defied my parents. If they're travelling with him and he means to still marry me then…what choice do I have?"

"Got every choice."

"You don't understand, it's not that simple. I tried refusing before and they told me I had to marry him. Why else do you think I ran away?" She put her head in her hands. "I can't see any way out of this."

"Well, one way I know that stops a woman marryin' someone she don't want to is bein' already married to someone else. Hear it's a crime to have two husbands."

"That would be a helpful suggestion if I were already married, but seeing as I'm not…"

"Ya could be, by the time yer folks get here."

"And who exactly would I be getting married to?"

"Me."

She lifted her head quickly. "You?"

"Didn't realise the idea would be so shockin' to ya."

"No, it's just…it's a kind offer but…"

"It's a real offer."

"Hank, I'm not going to marry you. It's…it's ridiculous."

"Why?" he splayed his hands. "Can drink all the whisky, clean all the glasses and watch all the poker games ya like."

"Because I barely even know you! Besides, I don't love you and you don't love me. How would marrying you be any better than me being forced to marry Thomas?"

"Said it's a real offer…don't mean it's gotta be a real marriage."

She paused. "What do you mean?"

"We get married, yer folks can't then force ya to marry this Lewis fella. Ya live here as my wife, but I don't expect nothing from ya. Won't so much as lay a finger on ya. Give it til…Christmas, time enough for yer folks to think ya ain't foolin' around or tryin' to deliberately deceive them, then we git the marriage annulled and go our separate ways, neither havin' any claim on the other." He shot her a look of smug satisfaction. "By that time, chances are yer Mr Lewis is gonna have found himself another bride. Might still need to mend yer relationship with yer folks but…

One word stuck out from what he had said, and she seized upon it. "Annulled?"

"Sure. If a marriage ain't consummated, it can be annulled, make it like it never happened. No need for any issues over property or things like that."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure can be."

"So…we wouldn't…?"

"Nope."

"But…forgive me for asking…what do you get out of this arrangement? If we're not going to be a proper man and wife…"

"Think the only thing that matters to me is the physical?"

"No, but…"

"Don't need to be concernin' yerself over what I git out of it." He looked away. "Got my reasons."

Her head started to spin once more and yet, she couldn't help but see the grain of wisdom in what he was suggesting. It would certainly solve her immediate issue in that she would be legally unable to marry Thomas. But how would her parents react to the news that she had married a man she barely knew…and a man like Hank? Would they believe it? Perhaps they might think he had coerced her in some way. And, if they were to believe the marriage was real, what would they think about their daughter lying with a man who owned a brothel? On top of all of that, another more insidious thought came into her mind, one she didn't want to think about, yet knew she had to.

"You'd have a legal right to me," she said. "What if you have too much liquor one night and…"

He met her gaze again, his eyes hard. "Think I'm like that fella that tried to have ya before?"

"No"

"Told ya already, man wants a woman to be willin' I ain't gonna claim any right to yer bed, ya have my word on that."

He appeared genuine and hadn't she placed so much trust in him already? Didn't she feel safe around him, for reasons that she couldn't explain? Meeting his gaze again, her stomach turned over pleasurably, and she couldn't help but think, in a small corner of her mind, that she might welcome him claiming his right to her bed…

"Well?" He leaned back against the bar. "Will ya marry me?"