Mountain Laurel

  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.

  She put her head back and then, quickly, abruptly, she brought her fists together, bent her elbows, brought her fists to her forehead and down!

  She stopped and for a moment she thought she might collapse, but she gasped for air like a person drowning—and the crowd went wild. They cheered and fired pistols, rifles, and shotguns into the air. They grabbed one another’s arms and danced around. They might be uneducated and their morals might leave something to be desired, but they certainly recognized when something miraculous had just happened.

  When Maddie recovered herself, she looked over the heads of the jubilant miners to where Captain Montgomery stood at the back. His eyes were as wide with wonder as the men’s. She gave him the smuggest smile she could manage and pointed skyward. He smiled back, then put one hand in front of him, one in back, and bowed deeply. When he straightened, she gave him a condescending nod that any queen would have been proud of.

  After that, those lonely, tired, half-drunken men belonged to Maddie. She sang and they listened. It often annoyed her that the American people had such odd ideas about opera. They seemed to think opera was for kings, for people with great education, but the truth was, opera had started out being very common: common stories for common people.

  She told the miners of poor Elvira not being able to have the man she loved, then sang “Tui la voce sua soave,” where the young woman goes mad. At the end there were some tears wiped away.

  She sang “Una voce poco fa” after telling them that Rosina was vowing to marry the man she loved no matter what. They thought that was more sensible than going mad.

  After six arias the men were making requests for repeats. She hadn’t sung for such a genuinely appreciative audience since she’d left her parents’ home.

  “Go mad again,” they called.

  “No, marry the country man,” someone else yelled.

  She sang for almost four hours before Captain Montgomery walked onto the little stage and told the men the show was over. He was booed and hissed and at first Maddie started to tell him that she would decide when she’d stop singing, but then common sense won over pride and, gratefully, she took the arm he offered as he led her through the door and out to the tent that served as a dressing room.

  The applause behind them was thunderous—helped by the explosion of many firearms. The audience no longer consisted of a mere three hundred men, but, while Maddie had sung, hundreds more had quietly, respectfully, tiptoed into the building, and when no more people could be held inside, they climbed the walls and sat on them. They opened the doors and stood, sat, lay, outside to hear her sing.

  “I have to do an encore,” Maddie said, but Captain Montgomery held her fast.

  “No, you don’t. You’re tired. It must be enormous work to sing like that.”

  She looked up at him, saw his eyes were wide with wonder and appreciation. “Thank you,” she said, and leaned a bit against him. Her former manager had never cared whether she was tired or sick; he felt that the singing was Maddie’s concern and not his. He never quarreled with her if she said she was too ill to perform—which she rarely was. His interest was booking her and in how much money she made from the box office.

  Now it was rather nice to have someone realize that she was tired. She smiled at him. “Yes, I am rather tired. Perhaps, Captain, you’d like to join me in a glass of port. I always carry the finest Portuguese port with me, and I always have some after singing. It soothes my throat.”

  All around them were hundreds of shooting men, but they might as well have been alone. The moonlight glistened off the rose pink of her silk dress, and her bare shoulders were white and round and smooth. “I would like that,” he said softly.

  He held back the tent flap for her, and Maddie started inside, but then she saw that hideous man inside, the man who knew where Laurel was. His gun was pointed straight at Maddie, and she realized that if she didn’t get rid of ’Ring, they’d probably both get shot. She turned around and jerked the flap out of Captain Montgomery’s hand.

  “Tell me, Captain, are you trying to seduce me?” she snapped at him. “Is that why y
ou wanted me off the stage?”

  “Why, no, I—”

  “No? Isn’t that what all men want? Isn’t that why you carried me through town today? Isn’t all your concern for me so you can have what you want from me? I’ve dealt with men like you all over the world.” With each word she saw his back stiffen until he was standing at a soldier’s attention. She didn’t like herself much for what she was saying because, if she were honest, she had to admit that so far all he’d really done was try to protect her. But she had to get rid of him. The man inside could shoot one or both of them and no one would notice, what with all the noise surrounding them.

  “Is that it, Captain? Do you think that a traveling singer like me is a woman of easy virtue?” Since just a few hours earlier he’d said he believed her to be a virgin, she knew the statement made no sense. “Is the hope of gain what is keeping you from returning to the army?”

  He looked down at her, his face cold and hard. “I apologize for having given you such an impression of my character. I will wait for you to…to have your port, then I will escort you to your camp.” He touched the brim of his hat, then turned on his heel and walked smartly away.

  Maddie refused to think about what she’d said. She had done what she had to. The man was waiting for her inside, slipping his pistol into his belt.

  “Quick thinker, ain’t you?”

  “When necessary.” She went to the little trunk Sam had moved for her and from under the lining she took the letter. He pulled another one from inside his shirt. The letter was folded to make an envelope, and there was nothing written on it, but it was sweaty and crumpled from being next to the man’s skin. She had to resist holding it by one corner and at arm’s length.

  He smirked at her as though he could read her thoughts, then pulled another paper from inside his shirt and handed it to her.

  She took it to the lantern light which she left turned low so the shadows inside the tent couldn’t be seen clearly from the outside. What she saw was a map. Tomorrow she was to sing in a place on Tarryall Creek, and two days later she was to sing in an isolated little town called Pitcherville. At Pitcherville she was to use the map and go fifty miles up into the Rockies, where she was to deliver the next letter.

  “And Laurel will be there?” she asked the man. “I was told I’d see her after the third camp.”

  “If you can find the place.”

  “I can find it all right.”

  “Alone? You show up with your fancy captain and the three of you are dead.”

  “You couldn’t kill a child.”

  The man chuckled. “After what she’s been through, she might rather be dead.”

  At that Maddie lunged at the man, but he caught her in his arms and held her easily. “How about a kiss?”

  It was sometime later that Maddie emerged from the tent and Captain Montgomery was waiting to escort her back to her camp. They walked silently.

  It was ’Ring who at last spoke. “You don’t seem to have enjoyed your port much. You keep wiping your mouth.”

  “What I do or do not do is none of your concern!”

  At her own tent she ordered Edith to put kettles of water on the fire to heat. “I’m going to take a bath.”

  “A whole one?” Edith asked.

  “Yes. As hot as I can stand. As thorough as I can stand.” She went inside the tent.

  “What’s eatin’ her?” Toby asked. “I’d a thought she’d been real happy tonight.”

  “She was,” ’Ring said stiffly. “She was until she thought I had dishonorable intentions toward her.”

  “She don’t know you very well, does she?” Toby said, meaning his words as an insult, but ’Ring didn’t take them as such.

  “No, she doesn’t. One minute she was offering me port and the next minute she looked inside her tent and acted like I was a satyr about to attack her. The woman makes no sense. She—” He stopped. “Toby, I’ve been a fool,” he said, then turned and took off running.

  Four men were taking down the tent they’d set up for Maddie to use, but he examined the ground by lantern light. The ground was too trampled to tell anything from the tracks, but he picked up the butt of a cigar. “Does this belong to one of you?” he asked the men moving the tent.

  “Naw, you can have it.”

  “No, I mean, did one of you smoke it?”

  One man punched another with a knowing look. “That pretty little singer leadin’ you a chase? Her other fella already left.”

  “You saw someone leave the tent?”

  “I didn’t see nothin’,” the man said. “You see anything, Joe?”

  ’Ring knew the men weren’t going to volunteer any information. They’d fallen in love with Maddie and they meant to protect her. He grabbed a man by the collar. “You want to keep that face of yours? Then tell me what you saw. I think he’s trying to kill her.”

  Four pistols were placed near ’Ring’s head and the triggers cocked. The man jerked out of ’Ring’s grasp. “Why didn’t you say so? I just saw him slippin’ out. Couldn’t say if I’d ever seen him before.”

  ’Ring frowned at the men still holding guns on him. They didn’t seem dangerous unless one of them tripped on a rock. “Short? Tall?”

  “Medium. About medium, I’d guess.”

  “Light? Dark?”

  “About medium.”

  “Hell!” ’Ring said, and clasped the cigar butt in his hand. He walked away from the men, cursing himself. What was wrong with him? He knew she was a liar, yet this time he’d believed her. If he weren’t already so bruised, he’d have smacked himself because he’d believed her. She’d hurt his damned pride. All she had to do was give him a few insults and he’d gone off like a hurt little boy.

  What—who—had been waiting inside that tent for her? Had the man been holding a gun? She could have seen that when he opened the flap. Had she possibly saved his neck by making him angry? ’Ring realized that had she allowed him to walk inside that tent, unprepared for an ambush, he might not be alive now.

  Fool, he thought. I’m a damned fool for not having seen through her.

  He stopped walking, for he remembered the way she’d kept scrubbing at her lips, the way she’d demanded a bath when she’d returned. What was she being blackmailed about? What could someone hold over her that was causing her to do what she was doing?

  He slowed his steps as he neared the camp. As bodyguards, Sam and Frank seemed to be nearly worthless. And, unfortunately, he hadn’t been much better. He had been so blinded by the sound of her voice that he’d completely forgotten about any possible blackmail plot, had lost all sense of danger.

  As he saw the camp before him, his first impulse was to charge into her tent and demand that she tell him what was going on. And what was he going to use to force her to tell him? Physical violence? If at times he was less than brilliant, she didn’t seem to be. From the first she’d never believed he’d harm her. She’d never been afraid of him in the least. And she was right, for he would never in his life hurt a woman.

  So, how was he going to make her trust him enough to tell him? As soon as he thought it, he knew that the key word was trust. She had to trust him.

  He saw Edith coming out of the tent. “She finish her bath?”

  “Yeah, and my back is finished from carryin’ the buckets.”

  ’Ring fished a gold piece out of his pocket and gave it to her. “You give her anything she wants.”

  “I’ll give you anything you want,” Edith purred.

  ’Ring ignored her and strode into the tent.

  “Captain Montgomery!” Maddie snapped. “How dare you—”

  “I came for the port you offered me. That is, if you and the man who was in here earlier haven’t drunk it all.”

  “I’d never serve him port.” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Oh? What do you serve him, then?”

  Maddie looked away. “I have no idea what you mean. Now, Captain, I’m tired and I’d like to go to bed.” br />
  He flicked open the little stool and sat on it. “Go ahead, but I’m going to have some port.” He smiled at her. “Wouldn’t you like to have something to drink? It might calm you down.”

  “I’m perfectly calm. I’m always like this after a performance.”

  “Is that so? Sure it wasn’t the man’s kisses that did this?”

  Maddie looked away from him and began to tremble at the memory of that odious man touching her. Never in her life had she had to put up with anyone touching her if she didn’t want to be touched. Since she was a child she’d known she was different, special even, and she’d treated herself with respect. When she was twenty, there had been a quick tumble on a couch with a French count, but she’d found the encounter so unpleasant she’d never repeated the experience. Men had been content to hear her sing; she’d not had to give more.

  But tonight…oh, God, tonight he’d touched her. He might have done more except for Edith bursting into the tent.

  Now, as a strong arm went around her shoulders, she panicked and began to fight.

  “Shhh, it’s just me,” ’Ring said. “You’re safe now. You have the greatest voice in the world, a God-given voice, and I’ve never had so much pleasure as I had hearing you tonight. What was that song you sang about the lady going mad?”

  “Tui la voce sua soave,” she said against his chest.

  “It was the most beautiful…?” he said, purposely mistranslating.

  “No. ‘It was here in sweetest accents.’ ”

  “Ah, yes. That was my favorite.”

  She smiled up at him. “Favorite so far. You haven’t heard much.”

  “Oh, but I have. I’ve heard Adelina Patti sing.”

  “What!” She pushed away from him. “Patti? That scarecrow? Her F sharps are a disaster. She shouldn’t be allowed out of the chorus.”

  “She sounded good to me.”

  “But then, what do you know? You are but a poor Colonial soldier while I am—”