“My dear, hasn’t he arrived yet?” Marilyn said, moving to Maysie’s side. She took Maysie’s hand. “Please quit worrying. He’ll be here. I saw how he looked at you, my dear. No man looks at a woman like that unless he loves her.”
“Oh?” Earl said, entering the parlor. “Does that apply to me? Do you see me look at you in a special way, darling?”
As Marilyn made her way toward him, her blue silk dress and the many ruffled petticoats beneath it rustled voluptuously. Earl gazed at her, then looked around the room. Its decor had changed to something more modest. The red velveteen chairs, lounges, and drapes had been discarded. In their place was more simple furniture—that which matched Marilyn and Earl’s finances.
Although Marilyn had had a roaring business during her reign as the renowned madam of Seattle, the man in charge of her ledgers and her money had fled, taking with him a good portion of what she had earned.
But there was enough money to last for many more years if they spent wisely, not wasting a cent of it.
Earl’s heart warmed and his eyes twinkled as Marilyn locked her arm through his, gazing up at him as if she had never loathed or deserted him.
“My darling Earl, although it is dreary and gray outside, inside, where you are here with me, I see only sunshine,” Marilyn murmured, rising on tiptoe to give him a soft kiss on his lips. “And don’t you smell the delicious dinner Frannie is cooking for us? Your favorite, Earl—beef pot roast and for dessert, a mouthwatering rhubarb pie.”
“You’d better keep an eye on that Frannie,” Earl teased. “She’s a woman after my heart.”
Maysie was enjoying this scene of love and devotion between Marilyn and Earl. She smiled as Earl looked over Marilyn’s shoulder and winked at her.
Then she turned her eyes back to the road. As a horseman turned into the lane that led to the house, she stepped closer to the window and placed her hands on the sill, her heart skipping a beat. Then it slowed to its regular pace when she saw that it was not Four Winds.
Earl heard the horse drawing close outside, and he bristled, thinking that perhaps it was a gentleman who did not yet know that this house was no longer a bordello. He eased away from Marilyn, ran a nervous finger around the white, tight collar at his throat, and walked toward the foyer.
With blinking eyes, Marilyn went after him. “Please don’t think that every time a man arrives here, it’s for the wrong reason,” she pleaded, catching up with him as he reached the front door. “There are legitimate reasons why I have callers. And Earl, I have a friend who is looking for Thomas, my accountant. It might be Sam, Earl. He may have found Thomas.”
Earl sucked in an uneasy breath and raked his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to the door and stared at it as the knocker sounded three knocks.
Stiff-legged, Earl jerked it open, Marilyn at his side. Both stared at a youthful, pockmarked face, and long, stringy hair hanging from beneath a sweat-stained Stetson. The boy’s clothes were wet from the misty rain. Earl recognized him as one of the workers that he had hired for the fishery—now unemployed, thanks to the damnable fire.
“Well, hello, Brad,” Earl said, extending a hand toward the lad. “What brings you here this time of day, and in the rain?”
“Mr. Easton, it’s something I heard.” Brad said, removing his hat, holding on to the brim and slowly turning it between his fingers. “I thought you should know. Or has someone else come and told you?”
“Told me what?” Earl said, raising an eyebrow.
Brad looked from Earl to Marilyn, and then back at Earl. “It’s your daughter,” he said, his voice weak. “She’s—she’s in jail. And so is that Indian that she ran off with.”
Marilyn placed a hand over her heart.
Earl had to grab hold of the doorjamb, to steady himself in his alarm over what he had just heard. “Elizabeth?” he said, almost choking on the word. “My Elizabeth? She’s in jail? Again?”
“The posse brought her in just a while ago,” Brad said, swallowing hard. “And they brought in the Indian, too. There’s a rumor that there might be a hangin’. Maybe two.”
“My Lord,” Marilyn gasped, swaying as a nausea swept through her. Then she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
Earl was in a state of shock, but when Marilyn fainted, he came to life. “Marilyn!” he shouted, falling to a knee beside her.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the parlor, stretching her out on the sofa. “Maysie, get some smelling salts,” he shouted.
Wide-eyed, and numb from the news of Elizabeth’s capture, Maysie hurried and got the smelling salts.
She went back to Marilyn and knelt beside her, waving the salts beneath her nose. Marilyn began and coughing and rolling her head from side to side. Her eyes flew open and she sat up on the couch.
“Are you going to be all right?” Earl asked, placing a hand to Marilyn’s cheek. “I must go to Elizabeth. I’ve got to find a way to get her out of that place.”
“But, how, Earl?” Marilyn cried, sniffling into a lacy handkerchief that she had taken from the pocket of her dress. “That requires money, Earl. We do not have that kind of money.”
Earl began pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor in a frenzied manner. “There must be a way,” he said, his throat tight.
Brad, forgotten in the doorway, overheard their dilemma. He took it upon himself to enter the parlor. “Sir, might I make a suggestion?” he asked, clasping his hands behind him.