Chapter Five #2
She only looked back once as they trailed down the street, but she didn’t turn to salt or to tears.
She only sighed, although it hurt to so wantonly waste her breath.
Because she realized that the luxury, the grandeur, and most especially, the two grand gentlemen she’d seen within, were obviously used to much higher altitudes, in every way, than she was herself.
“Vamoosed. Gone and vanished, cleared clean out,” Gray reported merrily, when he returned to where Royal was waiting for him.
“Seems they either didn’t have reservations or enough money to use them if they did.
But I’ve got their name. They may not have money but they sure got handbills, they managed to somehow misplace a few piles of them at the desk.
They’re ‘Harper’s Golden Circuit Touring Company: Superior Variety, Blithe Songs and Gay Dances, and Touching Drama,’ among other things—says so right here.
And they’ll be playing at a saloon theater called The Denver Grand Opera Palace and Dance Hall, on the Row, down near the cribs.
The bellboy said he’d wear his guns if’n he was me, but thank God, he’s not. ”
Royal shrugged at that bit of information.
If the girls had been easily accessible, he could maybe see pursuing them.
But since they were going to a gala party now, one Gray claimed would be stuffed to the seams with eligible girls, he could not.
It took a full half hour more for him to understand, and then he mentally begged his friend’s forgiveness for doubting him.
Royal stood with Gray in the doorway to the hotel ballroom.
He noted it was set up for serving punch and tea and little sandwiches, which would not fill a tooth.
The place had more mirrors than Mattie Silk’s famous house of ill repute was supposed to have, and there were massive arrangements of flowers everywhere.
Musicians in the corner played dreary high-tone music that was easily ignored, and though there were dozens of tables covered with white cloths, only the older women sat at them.
The men and younger women stood in groups, chatting.
Royal could scarcely believe his eyes as he looked at the young women as they stood in groups, fanning themselves and laughing together.
There were dozens of them: young, beautifully dressed in the sort of floating, frilly concoctions he’d only seen the like of on the stage, or calendars and cigarette cards before.
They wore gowns made of yards of white floating stuff, with trains in back of them that drifted from swagged bustles to make their graceful way of walking seem like a flirtation in itself.
Everything about them was enticing, but there was nothing outwardly seductive about them.
They weren’t like any women Royal had ever known.
They’d high lacy collars, and high-dressed hair festooned with flowers.
He was struck speechless. The mere sight of such elegant ladies made him realize his mistake in coming.
Just looking at them made him feel awkward and ignorant.
And a glance at Gray didn’t help. Because it was hard to tell what he was thinking, he seemed as at ease here as he did on the back of a horse.
These women were a select group: a minority of a minority group.
Women had always been a scarcity in the West, although more were coming every year, along with the new prosperity.
But men still vastly outnumbered them. Royal wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen so many in one place before, even in the biggest parlor houses he’d visited.
Not only did these women look too rich for his blood, they were likely too rich for most men in the land.
He paused with Gray in the doorway and wondered if it was too late to sneak away. It was.
In a moment Gray was noticed, and hailed by an older man. Seconds later, they were introduced to his daughter. From then on. Royal knew he’d been foolish for being ill at ease before. Because now he knew what it was like to be really uncomfortable.
They were deluged. Within moments, they were thronged with young ladies.
Royal found himself cut off from Gray, separated until they were each surrounded by a different circle of ladies; quartered and fenced in by them as neatly as he’d ever seen a working dog or a quarter horse isolate a steer.
It was done fast and neat, and before he could figure it out, he was in the midst of a bunch of lovely ladies, all giggling, flirting, and talking at once.
No, Royal eventually realized, they were all asking at once.
“Just how big did you say your spread was, Mr. Atkins?” Miss Emmylou Pepper asked playfully, though her blue eyes were hard.
“Well,” Royal answered slowly, “Ain’t bought it yet.”
“Mr. Atkins only said he’d his eye on it, silly,” Miss Loretta Kenyon corrected her friend. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Atkins? Are you planning to run cattle on it, or just farm?” she asked, saying the word “farm” like other people might spit.
“Cattle, I s’pect,” he answered, getting more closemouthed with every question.
“Ah, but there’s good growing land here in Colorado,” bright Miss Verna-Lynne Percy put in merrily.
“A very nice parcel, right near Twin Pines—that’s my daddie’s place,” she said, tapping that bit of information into him with her fan, and smiling widely to show him her best feature, a set of what looked to be a few hundred large white teeth.
They asked him where he intended to buy, how many acres it would be, what he meant to do when he did, and if he’d ever been married.
Then they got to asking what he was “in.” When he’d figured that out and answered, “Cattle,” they smiled wider.
After a while, he answered with just a yes or a no or a shake of his head, which seemed to do just as well, because that’s what he noticed Gray was doing in his circle of young ladies, and Gray managed to be smiling as he did it, too.
…Nine thousand and nine, nine thousand and ten—Gray thought, time’s up.
He’d leave now if he was by himself. Hell, no, he thought sadly—smiling at something being said, since nothing sad was ever said at parties like this—he’d never have come if it hadn’t been for Royal, and he owed it to him to stay on a while longer.
Wasn’t Royal’s fault that he’d forgotten what hell these things could be—the way, he supposed, a man made himself forget how much it hurt to visit the dentist until he got settled into his chair again.
He had to think of this the same way, he reminded himself. He did need a wife, after all.
This was the best place to find one. These were eligible girls, the cream of the newly rich—the only kind of rich in Denver society.
He’d enough money to marry anyone he chose, but there was nothing wrong in marrying rich, if he could.
In fact, he thought with dawning pleasure.
Josh would be tickled if he brought some more money into the family.
Couldn’t hurt, money never could, after all.
Wasn’t Josh always trying to introduce him to the most eligible girls in New York society every time he came East?
“Just look at it like you would if you were looking for superior stock,” Josh had said on a grin, the last time they’d argued when he’d refused to go along to a debutante party on Fifth Avenue.
“These girls are screened. You know the line you’ll be picking from, and you’ll be getting a breeder’s guarantee that they’re clean, pure, and carefully bred. ”
“Oh yeah,” Gray had agreed, nodding. “Just like you did, hmm?” And then before Josh could misunderstand, because he was always ready to put up his fists if he thought anyone hinted an unkind syllable about his beloved Lucy, who’d been an actress when he’d met her.
Gray added truthfully, in the exaggerated drawl he always used when he was pushed too far, “Josh, I ain’t saying I’ll ever find anyone like Lucy, but I’ve got to try, don’t I?
And I doubt I’d find her at a debutante’s ball. ”
“Well, I never guessed I could ever find a gem like her in the theater, either,” Josh had answered, completely serious for once, “…although I’d draw on any man that even hinted that to me, now.
But if I could find a treasure like her there, well, I guess a man can find his love anywhere.
Even at a debutante’s ball, don’t you think? ”
He’d gone then. And he hadn’t found anything but boredom.
But that didn’t make Josh wrong. He had to give it a chance.
Anyway, he thought, looking to where Royal stood dazed and surrounded, he couldn’t leave just yet.
Might as well see what was being offered here.
He hadn’t in a long while. These girls weren’t as subtle as the girls in New York society, but they’d only had their money for a couple of years.
That, he decided, ought to work in their favor.
But as he actually began to listen and look at them again, he realized it might have—if they hadn’t decided somewhere along the line to be as much like the girls of New York as they could.
And, he thought on an interior sigh, they’d almost got it right.
If they could only learn to mask what they were doing a little better, they’d have it down the way it left him—cold.
Because they were obviously looking for a man to marry, and one with as much or more money than their hardworking past had made—just the same as their counterparts in New York were.
Just the same sort of thing he and Royal were about, for that matter.
Nothing wrong with that, except it was the “obviously” they’d have to work on, he thought, as Miss Rhonda Hatcher mentioned her daddy’s new house and Miss Emma-Lou Anderson shouldered her aside to mention her daddy’s newer one—so sharply that they looked like a pair of frilly battering rams knocking heads in the spring rutting season.