Free September's Dream by Ruth Ryan Langan Page A

It’s different from most women’s. And that hair." He seemed to be talking to himself. "A man could get lost in it." He studied her, deep in thought. "Come here."
    As he reached for her hand, she looked at it, then up at him. "I said, don’t touch me."
    Puzzled, he nodded compliance. "Okay. I won’t forget again."
    He led the way across the room. Hanging along the wall were rows of fancy gowns.
    "Take your pick. Which one would you like to wear on stage?"
    "I don’t think you heard me, Mr. Rawlins."
    "Snake," he interrupted.
    "Snake. I take in sewing. I mend your girls’ dresses. I don’t sing. And I don’t stand on stage looking silly."
    "Not silly, September. Stunning."
    At the unexpected compliment, the room seemed suddenly too quiet.
    "How much do you earn sewing?"
    She thought a moment. "I’ve just started. But I’ve already earned thirteen dollars this week. By next week I think I can double that."
    "How’d you like to earn one hundred fifty dollars a week?"
    Her eyes grew round. She licked her lips and stared at him. He met her look directly.
    "You’re teasing me, aren’t you? This is a joke."
    He jammed his hands deep in his pockets and walked to the door. Pulling it open, he said, "When it comes to money, I never joke. Pick out a dress that fits you, September, and be here tomorrow at eight o’clock. You’ll see whether or not I’m joking."
    "But—"
    "And pick up some sheet music from my piano player. Memorize the words to about five songs."
    "I told you, I can’t—"
    "Yeah. I know. And I told you. Just memorize the words."
    He walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him. For long moments, September stood staring at the door. So that was Snake Rawlins. What in the world was he up to? And why was she standing here even considering his proposal? It was crazy. And so was he.
    She stared at the colorful gowns, feeling her heart begin to pound. Her palms were sweating. She felt her stomach begin to churn. Imagine her standing on stage in front of a bunch of strangers, reciting the words to a song. Snake Rawlins was just plain crazy. She ran her fingertips along the lush silks and satins. One hundred fifty dollars a week. Crazy. A little laugh bubbled in her throat. And so was she.

Chapter Seven

    "Aggie." September looked up from the pies she was arranging on the kitchen table. "Do you have a washtub big enough to take a bath in?"
    "’Course I do. Why?"
    "I want to take a bath this evening."
    Aggie turned to stare at her. "Why? It isn’t Saturday night."
    "I know. But I want to take a bath."
    Aggie gave a grunt of laughter. "You’ve been acting jumpy all morning. I should have known."
    "Known what?"
    "When a woman wants to smell good and it ain’t even Saturday night, it’s got to be because of a man."
    "No. It’s not a man. I’ve got ..." September hedged. "I’ve got a job."
    "A job? Tonight?" Aggie looked suspicious. "What kind of job do you do at night? After a bath?"
    September became defensive. "I’m going to sing."
    "Sing? Where?"
    "At Rawlins’ Saloon."
    The sudden silence in the room said more than any of Aggie’s curses could have.
    "So you met Snake."
    "Yes."
    "I told you to watch out for his charm."
    September’s face flamed. "I’m not doing this for his charms. I’m doing it for the money."
    "How much?"
    September’s voice lowered. "One hundred fifty dollars a week."
    "A hundred . . ." Aggie studied the bowed head. "To sing for a bunch of grizzled miners?"
    September tried to fake a careless shrug. "That’s what Snake said."
    Aggie’s voice hardened. "He may want you to do a whole lot more than sing. There’s another rumor about how Snake got his name. They say he’s crawled so low, he’d cheat his own grandmother, if the price was right. Watch out for snakes, girl. Some of the most dangerous don’t even hurt when they strike. The hurting comes later."
    September’s face lost all expression. She knew that kind of snake intimately. It was the lowest, the