walked briskly toward the store. Her path lay past Barret Gould’s office, but the possibility of a second encounter with him that day was more than she could presently face. Deciding to avoid it if she could, Lacey crossed the street and walked quickly along the crowded walk, hoping no one would notice her circuitous route when she crossed back again to the other side.
Lacey moved quickly between the last straggling shoppers of the day and the influx of wranglers just beginning to arrive for the weekend’s entertainment. She approached a small boutique where it was rumored that many of the Gold Nugget women did their shopping. According to the whispers of two matrons standing behind her while she had waited for her order to be filled at the mercantile a few days earlier, the clothing at the boutique was fashionable, direct from Paris and well beyond the reach of the “decent” women in town.
He who guards his lips, guards his soul.
She had wondered if those two “decent” women were familiar with that passage. Less important than that, she had then wondered if the clothing in the store was really direct from Paris.
That thought lingered as Lacey spotted a familiar figure standing in front of the boutique. She recognized the distinctive shopping basket Rosie carried. Rosie’s surprising talent for weaving was well-known at the Gold Nugget, and her baskets were easy to pick out.
Lacey’s step slowed as she approached the thin dancehall girl and said, “I thought it was you standing here, Rosie.”
Rosie turned toward her, then glanced away—but not before Lacey saw the fresh bruise at the corner of her eye.
Rosie replied, “Marcella told me that Madame Lilly had reduced her prices on some dresses because she expects new stock to arrive on the stage at the end of the week.” Referring to the voluptuous brunette rumored to be so popular in the Gold Nugget, Rosie continued, “Marcella bought herself a beautiful dress. I thought I might be able to find something. My old gold satin got ripped somehow.”
Lacey paused in her response. She knew how Rosie’s dress had gotten ripped, all right.
Lacey said simply, “Maybe I can help you fix it. I’ve done a pretty good job of repairing my own dresses from time to time.”
“No…I don’t think so. It’s ripped beyond repair.”
Her heart aching for Rosie, Lacey looked at the sign in the window and said, “It seems there are a few more dresses left at reduced prices.”
Rosie turned back hopefully toward her. “How do you know that?”
“It says so right there on the sign.” Lacey read, “‘Only six dresses remaining at greatly reduced prices.’”
“I won’t get paid for another few days. Does it say how much longer Madame will keep the prices reduced?”
Lacey looked back at the sign. The sign was clearly written in bold letters. Momentarily confused by the question, Lacey responded, “No, that’s all it says.”
Realization then struck her, and Lacey asked, “Don’t you know how to read, Rosie?”
Rosie stiffened and took a backward step.
“Rosie?”
Rosie’s lips wobbled. “No.”
“Oh.”
“My Ma and Pa died in an accident when I was six. My uncle didn’t have any choice but to take me in.” She shrugged. “That’s what he said, anyway. He raised me until I was ten. I guess he figured a girl like me wouldn’t have no use for book learning.”
“A girl like you?”
Rosie ignored the question. “He ran off when I was ten.”
“He left you alone?”
“He said I always had too much to say.”
Lacey took a breath, then forced a smile. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t know how to read, either, if it wasn’t for my grandpa. He took me in when my mother died, too, you know.”
“I know.”
Lacey’s brows rose with surprise.
“Everybody at the Nugget knows that story. Your grandpa was killed, and before he died, he told you to go to town and ask for Scully, so Scully could take care of you. Then Scully sent you back
Lacey moved quickly between the last straggling shoppers of the day and the influx of wranglers just beginning to arrive for the weekend’s entertainment. She approached a small boutique where it was rumored that many of the Gold Nugget women did their shopping. According to the whispers of two matrons standing behind her while she had waited for her order to be filled at the mercantile a few days earlier, the clothing at the boutique was fashionable, direct from Paris and well beyond the reach of the “decent” women in town.
He who guards his lips, guards his soul.
She had wondered if those two “decent” women were familiar with that passage. Less important than that, she had then wondered if the clothing in the store was really direct from Paris.
That thought lingered as Lacey spotted a familiar figure standing in front of the boutique. She recognized the distinctive shopping basket Rosie carried. Rosie’s surprising talent for weaving was well-known at the Gold Nugget, and her baskets were easy to pick out.
Lacey’s step slowed as she approached the thin dancehall girl and said, “I thought it was you standing here, Rosie.”
Rosie turned toward her, then glanced away—but not before Lacey saw the fresh bruise at the corner of her eye.
Rosie replied, “Marcella told me that Madame Lilly had reduced her prices on some dresses because she expects new stock to arrive on the stage at the end of the week.” Referring to the voluptuous brunette rumored to be so popular in the Gold Nugget, Rosie continued, “Marcella bought herself a beautiful dress. I thought I might be able to find something. My old gold satin got ripped somehow.”
Lacey paused in her response. She knew how Rosie’s dress had gotten ripped, all right.
Lacey said simply, “Maybe I can help you fix it. I’ve done a pretty good job of repairing my own dresses from time to time.”
“No…I don’t think so. It’s ripped beyond repair.”
Her heart aching for Rosie, Lacey looked at the sign in the window and said, “It seems there are a few more dresses left at reduced prices.”
Rosie turned back hopefully toward her. “How do you know that?”
“It says so right there on the sign.” Lacey read, “‘Only six dresses remaining at greatly reduced prices.’”
“I won’t get paid for another few days. Does it say how much longer Madame will keep the prices reduced?”
Lacey looked back at the sign. The sign was clearly written in bold letters. Momentarily confused by the question, Lacey responded, “No, that’s all it says.”
Realization then struck her, and Lacey asked, “Don’t you know how to read, Rosie?”
Rosie stiffened and took a backward step.
“Rosie?”
Rosie’s lips wobbled. “No.”
“Oh.”
“My Ma and Pa died in an accident when I was six. My uncle didn’t have any choice but to take me in.” She shrugged. “That’s what he said, anyway. He raised me until I was ten. I guess he figured a girl like me wouldn’t have no use for book learning.”
“A girl like you?”
Rosie ignored the question. “He ran off when I was ten.”
“He left you alone?”
“He said I always had too much to say.”
Lacey took a breath, then forced a smile. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t know how to read, either, if it wasn’t for my grandpa. He took me in when my mother died, too, you know.”
“I know.”
Lacey’s brows rose with surprise.
“Everybody at the Nugget knows that story. Your grandpa was killed, and before he died, he told you to go to town and ask for Scully, so Scully could take care of you. Then Scully sent you back
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