Read Online September's Dream by Ruth Ryan Langan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth Ryan Langan
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reached down the front of her robe, extracting a handful of bills. September tried not to stare.
"Two dollars for that one, or three?"
September swallowed. "Three. I had to go over every seam."
Handing her the bills, the woman said, "When you bring back the rest of the dresses, I’ll have some more. Snake wants you to repair everything in the closet."
"Thanks. I appreciate the work." September cleared her throat. "And pass the word. I’ll take all the jobs I can."
The woman nodded. "You’re a lifesaver, kid. I hate sewing almost as much as I hate this lousy town."
"Then why do you stay?"
"’Cause Snake says there’s big money to be made here. And I intend to get my share." She laughed. "Some of these miners haven’t seen a woman for months at a time. Believe me, this old body looks pretty good to a love-starved prospector."
"You don’t mind them staring at you?"
The woman threw back her head and laughed. "That’s part of my job, letting them look."
September’s gaze roamed the flowered kimono which hugged the ample curves of the big woman. The low-cut neckline revealed freckled skin and drooping breasts. Her arms, beneath the short sleeves, sagged in little pouches of flab. Her stomach, even with the aid of a corset, bulged below a thick waist.
"What if they want to do more than look?"
The woman seemed to stare beyond September, toward the door. Her voice was suddenly stern. "I’d advise you not to ask too many impertinent questions, girlie. Stick to your sewing."
September nodded, then turned away. A shadow flickered across the doorway. Footsteps could be heard beyond. As she made her way through the saloon, she felt her flesh prickle, as if someone had lightly brushed her skin. Glancing around, she saw no one close enough to touch her. But at the bar one man, taller than the others, stared at her as if he could see clear through to her bones.
Picking up the handles of her cart, September plodded back toward the boardinghouse. There were all kinds of people in this dirty little town, she realized. And all of them were trying to figure out ways to earn money.
* * *
Aggie saw it coming. Every day September brought home more mending, until the pile took up too much space in the cramped kitchen. On payday, September gave Aggie the news. She wanted to rent a room, at a dollar a day, and pay for her meals as well. That meant Aggie had to find another down-and-out straggler to take on September’s chores.
September agreed to continue to bake the pies, with Aggie’s help, because the profits were too good to pass up. But someone else would have to haul them across town to the grub tent and sell them. September had her hands full with the baking and sewing.
Aggie gave September a bedroom on the first floor, at the corner of the house, just off the parlor. It was a small room, with a bed, a rocker, and a small chest, on top of which rested a pitcher and wash basin. The room had its own door, which opened to the back porch.
September continued to rise at dawn and start the pies before tackling her mending. For a day or so she even began to entertain ideas about settling down in Skagway, buying her own little house, and becoming the town seamstress. Everyone she talked to warned her that winter was closing in. And with it, the snows that clogged the trails and made traveling impossible. At least until spring, she thought, she might be content to eke out a living with her sewing. That was before she made the mistake of going to Rawlins’ Saloon one afternoon.
Over her arm she carried six dresses for two of the saloon girls. Their rich colors added bright spots of color to the drab surroundings.
As September stepped inside, the men in the corner poker game looked up, then continued their game.
September approached the bar. The bartender paused in the act of wiping a glass.
"I’m looking for Daisy and Annie," she said.
He shrugged. "They’re sleeping upstairs."
She was surprised. She
"Two dollars for that one, or three?"
September swallowed. "Three. I had to go over every seam."
Handing her the bills, the woman said, "When you bring back the rest of the dresses, I’ll have some more. Snake wants you to repair everything in the closet."
"Thanks. I appreciate the work." September cleared her throat. "And pass the word. I’ll take all the jobs I can."
The woman nodded. "You’re a lifesaver, kid. I hate sewing almost as much as I hate this lousy town."
"Then why do you stay?"
"’Cause Snake says there’s big money to be made here. And I intend to get my share." She laughed. "Some of these miners haven’t seen a woman for months at a time. Believe me, this old body looks pretty good to a love-starved prospector."
"You don’t mind them staring at you?"
The woman threw back her head and laughed. "That’s part of my job, letting them look."
September’s gaze roamed the flowered kimono which hugged the ample curves of the big woman. The low-cut neckline revealed freckled skin and drooping breasts. Her arms, beneath the short sleeves, sagged in little pouches of flab. Her stomach, even with the aid of a corset, bulged below a thick waist.
"What if they want to do more than look?"
The woman seemed to stare beyond September, toward the door. Her voice was suddenly stern. "I’d advise you not to ask too many impertinent questions, girlie. Stick to your sewing."
September nodded, then turned away. A shadow flickered across the doorway. Footsteps could be heard beyond. As she made her way through the saloon, she felt her flesh prickle, as if someone had lightly brushed her skin. Glancing around, she saw no one close enough to touch her. But at the bar one man, taller than the others, stared at her as if he could see clear through to her bones.
Picking up the handles of her cart, September plodded back toward the boardinghouse. There were all kinds of people in this dirty little town, she realized. And all of them were trying to figure out ways to earn money.
* * *
Aggie saw it coming. Every day September brought home more mending, until the pile took up too much space in the cramped kitchen. On payday, September gave Aggie the news. She wanted to rent a room, at a dollar a day, and pay for her meals as well. That meant Aggie had to find another down-and-out straggler to take on September’s chores.
September agreed to continue to bake the pies, with Aggie’s help, because the profits were too good to pass up. But someone else would have to haul them across town to the grub tent and sell them. September had her hands full with the baking and sewing.
Aggie gave September a bedroom on the first floor, at the corner of the house, just off the parlor. It was a small room, with a bed, a rocker, and a small chest, on top of which rested a pitcher and wash basin. The room had its own door, which opened to the back porch.
September continued to rise at dawn and start the pies before tackling her mending. For a day or so she even began to entertain ideas about settling down in Skagway, buying her own little house, and becoming the town seamstress. Everyone she talked to warned her that winter was closing in. And with it, the snows that clogged the trails and made traveling impossible. At least until spring, she thought, she might be content to eke out a living with her sewing. That was before she made the mistake of going to Rawlins’ Saloon one afternoon.
Over her arm she carried six dresses for two of the saloon girls. Their rich colors added bright spots of color to the drab surroundings.
As September stepped inside, the men in the corner poker game looked up, then continued their game.
September approached the bar. The bartender paused in the act of wiping a glass.
"I’m looking for Daisy and Annie," she said.
He shrugged. "They’re sleeping upstairs."
She was surprised. She
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