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Authors: Francine Rivers
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Magowan.
He makes certain nobody bothers her. No one gets within a foot of her unless they’ve paid their dues.”
Michael frowned slightly and went back outside. He stood at the back of his wagon, staring after her. She caught at something deep inside him. There was a grave, tragic dignity about her. As the storekeeper hefted another crate, Michael asked the question burning inside him. “How do I meet her, Joseph?”
Hochschild smiled ruefully. “You have to get in line. The Duchess holds a regular lottery to see who’ll have the privilege of seeing Angel.”
“What Duchess?”
“The Duchess down there.” He nodded down the street in the other direction. “The one who owns the Palace, the biggest brothel in Pair-a-Dice.”
Michael felt as though he had been kicked low and hard. He stared at Hochschild, but the man didn’t even notice as he toted a crate of carrots inside and upended it into a bin. Michael shouldered another barrel of apples.
Lord? Did I misunderstand? I must’ve. This can’t be the one.
“I’ve put up the ounce of gold a time or two to get my name in a hat,”
Joseph said over his shoulder. “That was before I found out it took more than that just to get your name in the right hat.”
Michael banged the barrel down hard. “She’s a soiled dove? A girl like that?” He didn’t want to believe it.
“She’s not just any old soiled dove, Michael. Angel is something real fine, from what I hear. Special training. But I can’t afford to find out for myself.
When I’ve a need, I see Priss. She’s clean, does things plain and simple, and she doesn’t cost too much hard-earned gold.”
Michael needed some air. He went back outside. Unable to help himself, he glanced down the street again at the slender girl in black. She was coming back down the other side of the street and went right past him again.
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His reaction was worse this time, harder to take.
Hochschild unloaded a crate of turnips. “You look like a bull who just had a club put to his head.” His smile was wry. “Or maybe you’ve been down on your farm too long.”
“Let’s settle up,” Michael said tersely and went inside with the last crate.
He needed to get his mind back on business and off of her.
“You’ll have enough gold to meet her once we square up,” Hochschild said. “More than enough.” He emptied the crate and set it aside before putting his scale on the counter. “Fresh vegetables are worth a fortune up here. These young gents get up on the streams and live on little better than flour, water, and salted meat. Then they come into town with swollen, bleeding gums and swelling legs from scurvy and think they need a doctor.
All they need is a decent diet and a little common sense. Let’s see what we got here. Two barrels of apples, two crates each of turnips and carrots, six crates of squash, and twenty pounds of venison jerky.”
Michael told him what he wanted for the wagon load.
“What?! You’re robbing me.”
Michael smiled slightly. He wasn’t green. He had spent the better part of
’48 and ’49 panning gold and knew what the men needed. True, food was only part of it, but it was a part he could supply. “You’ll make twice that.”
Hochschild opened the safe behind the counter and took out two sacks of gold dust. He slid one across to Michael and measured a portion out of the other into a hide pouch. Tossing the bigger sack back into the safe, he kicked it shut and checked the handle.
Michael emptied the dust into a belt he had crafted. Hochschild watched, his mouth tipping. “You’ve got enough for a good time there.
Wanna meet Angel? You ought to go down and talk to the Duchess with some of it. She’d usher you right upstairs.”
Angel. Just her name affected him. “Not this time.”
Joseph saw the set of his jaw and nodded. Michael Hosea was a quiet man, but there wasn’t anything soft
He makes certain nobody bothers her. No one gets within a foot of her unless they’ve paid their dues.”
Michael frowned slightly and went back outside. He stood at the back of his wagon, staring after her. She caught at something deep inside him. There was a grave, tragic dignity about her. As the storekeeper hefted another crate, Michael asked the question burning inside him. “How do I meet her, Joseph?”
Hochschild smiled ruefully. “You have to get in line. The Duchess holds a regular lottery to see who’ll have the privilege of seeing Angel.”
“What Duchess?”
“The Duchess down there.” He nodded down the street in the other direction. “The one who owns the Palace, the biggest brothel in Pair-a-Dice.”
Michael felt as though he had been kicked low and hard. He stared at Hochschild, but the man didn’t even notice as he toted a crate of carrots inside and upended it into a bin. Michael shouldered another barrel of apples.
Lord? Did I misunderstand? I must’ve. This can’t be the one.
“I’ve put up the ounce of gold a time or two to get my name in a hat,”
Joseph said over his shoulder. “That was before I found out it took more than that just to get your name in the right hat.”
Michael banged the barrel down hard. “She’s a soiled dove? A girl like that?” He didn’t want to believe it.
“She’s not just any old soiled dove, Michael. Angel is something real fine, from what I hear. Special training. But I can’t afford to find out for myself.
When I’ve a need, I see Priss. She’s clean, does things plain and simple, and she doesn’t cost too much hard-earned gold.”
Michael needed some air. He went back outside. Unable to help himself, he glanced down the street again at the slender girl in black. She was coming back down the other side of the street and went right past him again.
54
Redeem.02 7/25/07 5:08 PM Page 55
F
R
A
N
C
I
N
E
R
I
V
E
R
S
His reaction was worse this time, harder to take.
Hochschild unloaded a crate of turnips. “You look like a bull who just had a club put to his head.” His smile was wry. “Or maybe you’ve been down on your farm too long.”
“Let’s settle up,” Michael said tersely and went inside with the last crate.
He needed to get his mind back on business and off of her.
“You’ll have enough gold to meet her once we square up,” Hochschild said. “More than enough.” He emptied the crate and set it aside before putting his scale on the counter. “Fresh vegetables are worth a fortune up here. These young gents get up on the streams and live on little better than flour, water, and salted meat. Then they come into town with swollen, bleeding gums and swelling legs from scurvy and think they need a doctor.
All they need is a decent diet and a little common sense. Let’s see what we got here. Two barrels of apples, two crates each of turnips and carrots, six crates of squash, and twenty pounds of venison jerky.”
Michael told him what he wanted for the wagon load.
“What?! You’re robbing me.”
Michael smiled slightly. He wasn’t green. He had spent the better part of
’48 and ’49 panning gold and knew what the men needed. True, food was only part of it, but it was a part he could supply. “You’ll make twice that.”
Hochschild opened the safe behind the counter and took out two sacks of gold dust. He slid one across to Michael and measured a portion out of the other into a hide pouch. Tossing the bigger sack back into the safe, he kicked it shut and checked the handle.
Michael emptied the dust into a belt he had crafted. Hochschild watched, his mouth tipping. “You’ve got enough for a good time there.
Wanna meet Angel? You ought to go down and talk to the Duchess with some of it. She’d usher you right upstairs.”
Angel. Just her name affected him. “Not this time.”
Joseph saw the set of his jaw and nodded. Michael Hosea was a quiet man, but there wasn’t anything soft
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