“Why would I want to? Bein’ in the army gives me the chance to hear more talkin’ than I ever wanted to hear. You even kiss her?”
“Toby, shut up.”
Toby grinned.
Maddie looked at her music one more time. She was to sing a few familiar arias, songs with catchy tunes, a couple of songs that showed off her voice to its best advantage, and then “America the Beautiful” to close the program.
Frank had come up with a piano, dented and scarred from its trip across the plains, but he’d worked on tuning it and had it working well enough. Frank was fairly talented and she thought he might once have been a musician, but he must have left the possibility of a musical career behind when he’d entered the ring. She had never asked him about his life. A face like his tended to put one off exchanging confidences.
She looked up as Captain Montgomery, Toby behind him, entered the little makeshift dressing room outside the back door of the half-finished building.
“They’re serving drinks,” the captain said glumly. “And gambling. They’re not used to civilized entertainment. Toby and I will do our best to keep them under control, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I will control them, Captain. My voice and I will control the men.”
He gave her a look that said she wasn’t too bright, then smiled and winked at her. “Sure. Of course. God’ll probably send a bolt of lightning down to strike them dead if they don’t behave.”
“Out,” she said softly. “Out!”
He gave a mocking little bow and left the tent, but Toby hesitated. “He sure do make a body mad, don’t he, ma’am?”
“More than I can say. Tell me, has anyone ever told him he was wrong?”
“A few, but in the end he was always right.”
“No wonder his family sent him away to the army.”
Toby chuckled. “Ma’am, his whole family’s just like him.”
“That I don’t believe. The earth couldn’t hold them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Toby grinned. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thank you.”
As she stepped onto the stage, built just that afternoon to Sam’s specifications, Maddie did feel a little nervous, and she knew it was thanks to Captain Montgomery. Now he stood at the back of the big room, behind what looked to be about three hundred men, with his pistol on his hip, sword by his side and a knife or two showing. He looked ready to fight a ship full of pirates. Toby stood on the other side of the room picking his teeth with a knife big enough to cut through buffalo bones.
Heaven help me, she thought, I’m singing in a prison, but in this case the prisoners are happy and the guards are lunatics.
She started the program with the beautiful “Ah, fors’ è lui” from La Traviata, but she hadn’t sung more than the first few lines before trouble broke out in the back. And it was all Captain Montgomery’s fault. Some poor, tired miner had tipped his chair back too far, the chair had crashed to the floor, and the captain had pounced on the man, pistol drawn.
“Fight!” someone yelled, and after that all was chaos as the brawl began. Fists were flying; chairs were sailing through the air.
What does one do with unruly boys? Maddie wondered. One calls them down, that’s what.
She took a breath, a deep, deep breath, filling her body with oxygen in the way she’d been trained, and then she hit a note, a high, clear note, a very loud note.
She immediately had the attention of the men nearest her as they paused, fists aimed at each other’s faces, and looked at her, eyes wide, blinking.
Maddie held the note and more men began to look at her. The men in front began to slowly clap their hands in rhythm, marking the beats with their claps. The men in the middle of the room added their feet to the rhythmic beat. The men in the back were the last to realize what was going on and to stop trying to kill men who an hour earlier had been their friends.
“By damn!” Toby said, watching her as she held that one single note, and held it.
’Ring let go of the hair of the man he was pummeling and looked at her. She had everyone’s attention now.
Maddie continued holding the note. And holding it. And holding it. Tears ran down her face. Her lungs emptied of oxygen, but still she held it. She drew air from every part of her body, from her legs, her arms, her fingertips, her toes, even from the ends of her hair. She depleted everything she had while the men kept up their rhythmic clapping. One, two, three, four. She held it. Her backbone was touching her navel. Her corset was loose, but still she held that note.
At long, long last she spread her arms wide and balled her hands into fists. Her body hurt; every muscle ached, but she didn’t let go of that note.