Free September's Dream by Ruth Ryan Langan

hadn’t known they all lived here. "Can I leave these dresses here?"
    He glanced over her head to the man standing across the room. At his nod, the bartender said, "You can hang them up in the back room."
    She turned, and the man fell into step behind her. As she put a hand to the door, his hand reached over hers to open the door. Surprised, she turned an angry face to him.
    He was tall, with shoulders nearly as wide as the door. He wore his jet black hair slicked to his head. He wore a fancy velvet coat, with a big chain draped across the front. Her gaze was drawn to his face.
    He was almost handsome, in a dark, sinister way. A jagged scar ran from his left eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes were gray, almost opaque. A thin mustache added to the satanic look. His lips were thin and curled back over white, even teeth when he smiled. September decided she didn’t like his smile. It made him look as if he knew something. Something important, which no one else knew or understood. To September, he was too fearsome to be handsome. But he was definitely a man who thought himself attractive to women.
    September looked away as he boldly stared at her. "I was told to hang these back here."
    Lighting a lantern, the fancy-garbed man set it on the table and indicated the back of the door.
    "Hang them over there."
    September did as she was told, then turned. The man was standing very close to her, peering at her strangely.
    "What’s your name?"
    She backed up a step, and felt the rough wall brush her back. "September Malloy."
    "September. That your real name?"
    She nodded.
    "Take off that shawl."
    "What?" Her heart began a wild tattoo in her chest. Her mouth went dry. She glanced at the door.
    Seeing her look, he assured her, "I’m not going to touch you, girl. I just want to see what you look like. Now take off that shawl."
    "How dare you!"
    "I’ll dare anything I choose." A leer tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I own this place."
    So this was Snake.
    He indicated her head. "Show it."
    Hesitantly, she slid the shawl from her head to her shoulders. At the sight of her pale hair pinned neatly at her nape he muttered, "My God." Aloud, he said, "Let your hair down."
    "No." She pivoted on her heel. "I’m going."
    As she gripped the door he caught her roughly by the arm. "I told you. I own this place. Everyone here does as I say. Let down your hair."
    Her eyes widened. "Why?"
    "Because I’ve never seen hair like that. I mean, not real hair."
    She laughed, a short, nervous laugh, to cover the rising hysteria. "It’s real."
    His voice lowered. "Let it down."
    She glanced at the offending hand. "First, let go of me."
    "Why you impudent little . . ." He raised a hand, as if to strike her.
    She never flinched.
    He found himself staring into hard, cold eyes. Arching an eyebrow at her boldness, he dropped his hand to his side.
    She reached a hand to the clips holding her hair in a neat knot. As she removed the pins, it tumbled about her face and shoulders, falling nearly to her waist.
    For long moments he studied her. The hand at his side formed a fist. His voice was tight. "How’d you like to work for me, September?"
    "No." Her voice rose. "I don’t do . . . I’m not . . ."
    He watched the color flood her cheeks. He kept his tone even. "I meant as a singer."
    She swallowed. "I can’t sing."
    "What? Everybody can sing."
    "I can’t. Never could carry a note."
    He grinned. If his smile was frightening, his grin struck terror in her heart.
    "It doesn’t matter. Those hungry miners won’t care if you can’t sing. Think you could stand on stage and say the words?"
    "That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. Why would you want me to do that?"
    He studied her through narrowed eyes. "You mean you really don’t know?" Seeing the innocence in her eyes, he shook his head. "No. That’s the remarkable part of it. You don’t know, do you, September?"
    "Know what?" She felt confused.
    "Nothing." He shrugged. "You’ve got a great, husky voice.