Rose Read Free

his eyes. “Good day, ladies,” he said and walked out into the street.
    “That man’s going to get himself killed,” Dottie said.
    “He survived the war,” Rose said. “What’s he got to worry about in Austin?”
    “Men who’ll shoot him in the back and be glad of it,” Dottie stated, disgusted that Rose should ignore the obvious. “And Luke’ll be at the head of the line.”
    “I don’t think he cares about Luke,” Rose said. “He’s a gentleman.”
    Dottie turned on her angrily.
    “He may be a gentleman, though I never knew a man who was out for anybody but himself, but that ain’t going to help you when you’re looking for another job.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I can’t keep you on here. The minute you’re done serving, come get your money.”
    The blunt announcement stunned Rose. “You can’t do that. Nobody else will hire me.”
    “That’s not my problem,” Dottie said, not meeting Rose’s eyes. “I can’t afford no more cowboys breaking up the place. There won’t always be someone like him to make sure I get paid. Whowas that man anyway?” Dottie demanded, turning to her customers.
    “Never seen him,” one of the men volunteered. “He come into town this morning looking for a woman to do for him and six other men.”
    “There. Go offer for that job if you think he’s so wonderful,” Dottie said.
    She waddled off to the kitchen.
    Through the haze of shock and disbelief, Rose clutched at the only straw she could see. “Do you mean he’s advertising for a housekeeper?”
    “Guess so. He put up a sign outside the sheriff’s office.”
    “Why doesn’t he hire a cook?”
    “Go ask him,” the man said, a mocking smile on his face. “Seems like he’s already got his eye on you.”
    Rose felt the heat rise in her face, but she refused to let Dawson’s gibes get to her. She had to think.
    But for the next two hours she had no thoughts to spare for George Randolph or herself. His turn-up with Luke had made the Bon Ton the most popular eating place in town. Everybody wanted to know where he sat and how many tables Luke broke. Long before the rush ended, she began to wish he had gone to another restaurant to eat.
    But as she walked back to her room, she caught herself daydreaming of George Randolph somehow making her future bright and secure.
    Don’t be stupid, she told herself as she sank down on the hard, narrow bed in the single room she rented. He doesn’t even know your last name. And you can forget all the fairy tales you read about knights rescuing ladies. If your future is ever going to be secure, you’ll have to do it yourself.
    But how?
    She opened her drawer and counted her small hoard of coins. Less than twenty-five dollars. How long would that last? What would she do when it was gone?
    The men had been getting more bold in their advances, more rude in their suggestions, more persistent in their demands. She didn’t know where she could find another job, but she’d starve before she’d let anybody make a whore out of her.
    Rose shuddered at the sound of the word. She’d never said it out loud, never even let herself think it. She could leave Austin, but would it be any different in another town? She would still be a woman alone, without family, without money, support, or protection.
    She thought of her father’s life savings, her only inheritance, lost in a bank failure caused by the Union blockade. She thought of her uncle’s family, cold and distant when her father refused to let her live with them on their New Hampshire farm after her mother’s death; silent and uncaring after she refused to leave Texas at the outbreak of the war; angry and bitter since her uncle’s death at Bull Run.
    She felt more alone and vulnerable than ever.
    Rose went over to a small table and picked up a hand mirror. What did Luke see in her face that made him so sure she would share her body with him?
    It couldn’t be beauty. She was always too tired to look her best.