Page 197 of Conveniently Wed
Maybe he could tell her where to find the local businesses. “Mr. Jenson, would you be able to give me directions to the mercantiles in this town, and the dress shops or other clothing stores?”
He crossed his arms over his gut and leaned back in the chair so it rested on its rear legs. “Don’t know about no shops for fancy duds, but Lanyard’s Dry Goods is over on Washington. They’ve got decent stock of most things.”
“Thank you. Do you happen to know if they’re hiring additional employees?”
His eyes narrowed to slits as they perused her face. She shouldn’t have asked that question. When would she learn when to keep her mouth shut?
“Seems like I did hear somethin’ about them lookin’ fer a new sales clerk.”
The words grabbed her attention. “Really? Can you tell me how to find the store?”
Less than thirty minutes later, she strode down Park Street as Mr. Jenson had instructed. She crossed over Arizona Street, then turned right on Gaylord. It was a longer walk than she’d expected, but the roads were exactly as he’d said they would be.
The buildings she passed, though, were increasingly more run-down. Collections of wood shacks were scattered between the places of business, although the dwellings didn’t look like much more than lean-tos built onto each other.
Loud, energetic piano music drifted from one of the limestone buildings. Surely any business in this part of town would not be a proper place for her to work. Should she turn back? Find a woman or a respectable man to ask for better directions? She should have known better than to take advice from a rough-looking man like Mr. Jenson.
Her feet had begun to protest against the leather of her good boots, and a bench called to her from the corner of the two-storyrestaurant she was passing. A few minutes’ rest before turning back would be nice, and it shouldn’t be too hard to follow her directions in reverse.
Just as she relaxed onto the seat, something strong came around her waist and jerked her backward.
Panic shot through her. She screamed, but a cloth slammed onto her mouth, muffling the sound. She couldn’t breathe. She threw out her hands, trying to grab something, anything to keep her upright.
The arm clamped around her waist dragged her backward, farther into an alley. A sharp antiseptic odor permeated the fabric on her face, and she struggled to think through what was happening. She clawed at the arms, but they were so strong. Exhaustion stole the strength from her body.
Gideon stood outside the café and ran both hands through his hair, pinching it at the tips and pulling. Hard. Maybe pain would keep him from screaming at this frustration.
How had he let this happen? He’d tossed and turned and worried for so many hours last night, he didn’t drift to sleep until the early part of the morning.
And then, for the first time since he was a little boy, he’d actually slept past dawn. And now Leah had left her room, eaten breakfast, and headed out into this rough town where at least one man was ready to pounce the moment he saw her. He growled at his stupidity.
The matron inside remembered showing Leah to a table, but had no idea when she’d left or where she’d gone. Should he start by looking for her at the local businesses? Hope he could pick up her trail?
His mind drifted back to the man Jenson. He was a shady character, no doubt about that. Up to no good. Maybe he could find the man and trail him. Learn who had hired him. A ruffian like that probably spent his days on the southeast side of town, near the rough area the locals called the Cabbage Patch. The thought of a lowlife like that looking for Leah, forced him into a jog as he headed in the direction of Arizona Street.
When he crossed over Gaylord, he slowed to a walk, scanning the road and the open doorways for a sign of Jenson. Maybe he should go into some of the bars to ask about the man. He didn’t have far to walk, because jaunty music spilled out of the next building he passed. It wasn’t even noon yet and the liquor houses were doing a lively business in this slum.
He approached the bar, trying not to be too obvious about scanning the faces in the room.
“What’ll ye have?” The man behind the counter with the apron eyed him expectantly. A beard covered his face, and tired lines around his eyes showed he was most likely old enough to be Gideon’s father.
“Whiskey’s fine.” Anything was fine, really, because he wouldn’t be drinking a drop. It would stick out too much if he didn’t order, though.
The bartender poured a shot and placed it in front of Gideon. Now was the time.
“I’m lookin’ for an acquaintance. Maybe you’ve seen him before?”
The man raised a salt-and-pepper brow. “Maybe.”
“His name’s Jenson and he’s a big man, tall and thick.”
The bartender’s lips pinched. “Yeah, I have thepleasureof his company most ev’ry night.” His sarcastic twist on the wordpleasuretold Gideon it was anything but. “He comes in here with a couple o’ roughstock to drink and cheat at cards. I get tobreak up their fights when the other players aren’t too drunk to notice he’s takin’ all their gold dust.”
“Has he ever said what he does during the day?”
The barkeep shrugged and wiped out a glass. “Don’t recall. I know he talks about how he’s tryin’ to find his wife an’ take her back home. I don’t blame the old lady, myself. I’d leave the scum, too, if I had to live with him.”
Gideon couldn’t help a wry smile. “Do you know who his friends are?”
