Chapter 3
The responding telegram arrived two days later.
Rose stood in the narrow alley behind Murphy’s Saloon, her hands trembling as she unfolded the response from Walnut Springs. The morning air carried the scent of pine from the surrounding mountains, but she barely noticed, her entire attention focused on the message:
POSITION AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY STOP ROOM AND BOARD PROVIDED STOP WAGES FIFTEEN DOLLARS MONTHLY STOP REPLY WITH ARRIVAL DATE IF INTERESTED STOP MEET AT WALNUT SPRINGS CAFE FULL STOP
Fifteen dollars. More than she’d seen in years. But it was the word immediately that made her pulse quicken—as though whoever had placed the advertisement understood that some situations required swift escape.
She read the telegram three more times, committing each word to memory. No mention of a family name, no specific details about the ranch’s location beyond Walnut Springs.
The anonymity should possibly concern her, but instead it felt like Providence. If she didn’t know who was offering her this lifeline, Vincent couldn’t discover it either.
“Ruby?”
Vincent’s voice from the saloon’s back door made her jump. She quickly folded the telegram and slipped it into her skirt pocket, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Just working to memorize that new song.” She forced lightness into her tone.
“Come inside. We need to discuss tonight’s performance.”
She followed him back into the dim interior, but her mind remained fixed on those precious words: Position available immediately. The telegram felt warm against her leg through the fabric of her pocket, like a secret flame Vincent couldn’t extinguish.
“I’ve been thinking about that new arrangement,” Vincent was saying as they walked through the narrow hallway. “Something with more…appeal for the gentlemen who frequent the back tables.”
Rose made the appropriate sounds of agreement, but her thoughts already raced ahead to practicalities.
She’d studied the map in the telegraph office, the one with the stage routes drawn in dark lines.
She’d have to get off in Butte and find other transportation to the little town of Walnut Springs.
That might be better though. Harder for Vincent to track her.
The stagecoach to Butte left twice weekly—Tuesdays and Saturdays.
Today was Thursday, which meant she had two days to plan her escape if she chose Saturday’s departure.
She had enough to cover the cost of the stage, but barely more for the remaining travel.
She would need to bring food to eat along the way.
Two days to gather her courage and what few belongings she could carry without arousing suspicion.
“Ruby? Are you listening?”
She blinked, focusing on Vincent’s pale eyes. “Of course. The new arrangement.”
“Good.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve also had an inquiry about a private performance. A wealthy mining investor, new to Virginia City. The compensation would be…substantial.”
Something cold settled in Rose’s stomach.
Vincent’s private performances had grown more frequent lately, and more lucrative.
They also required her to sing in drawing rooms and private dining halls where the audience was smaller, more intimate, and where the line between performer and entertainment grew dangerously thin.
The men often wanted to wrap an arm around her. Have her sit on their lap and sing to them. Or share a drink with them. She hated that vile stuff. Hated every retched part of it—the stench, the way it loosened men’s tongues and freed their hands. Made them either angry or far too pushy.
She forced down the bile that rose at just the thought. “When?”
“Saturday afternoon. Nothing too demanding—an hour or two of your most popular songs.” Vincent’s hand settled on her shoulder again, that familiar weight of ownership. “Appearances like this are stated in your contract.”
She forced herself to nod. “I know.”
She had to leave on Saturday’s stage. Escape.
As soon as she reached her room, she drafted a telegram to send back to Walnut Springs.
ARRIVING SUNDAY MORNING STAGE IN BUTTE STOP SHOULD REACH WS MONDAY STOP WILL MEET IN CAFé MONDAY NOON STOP WILL WEAR HAT WITH RED FEATHER STOP SIGNED R P FULL STOP
The red feather—she wore it with the ruby dress Vincent sometimes insisted on. It would be distinctive enough without looking gaudy. Hopefully.
She inhaled a deep breath and released it. Two days. She had to remain calm so Vincent didn’t suspect anything.
No matter what, she couldn’t let him follow her. She had no doubt he’d look for her. And if he found her, there was no telling how he’d make her pay for daring to defy him.