Mad Cat Saloon sat dead center of Sweetwater Peak, the busiest boomtown on the Klondike trail. It's why I stayed, while my brothers pushed into Yukon territory. They were after the gold, and I was after a husband. But after weeks of watching men come and go, there was nothing else to do but make my own living using my full-figured gift and fortunate breeding.

Today, I got stuck behind the bar after Sam woke up with a fever. If it turned out to be Typhoid, we were doomed. The place was filled to the rafters with prospectors, loggers, and a company of actors who were there to make a film about the gold rush. I enjoyed watching the prissy, city women complain about the mud on their boots. I wanted to tell them not all of it was mud.

"What are you serving here?"

His voice came out of nowhere. A bass vibrato that made me think of a Bellini opera I'd heard on a gramophone recording. It was a miracle I could hear him at all through the noise, but the sound entered my ears like it was intended just for me, and I turned to find a man smiling beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Although the sun hadn't come out for a week, I wasn't complaining. The look suited him, as did the thick mustache above a pair of tilted lips.

"Preferably, something top shelf," he added smoothly.

"We have a nice gin." I crouched behind the bar, reaching through a mess of bottles to find the good stuff Sam hid in the back. When I set it on the counter, he leaned in, tipping his hat up to get a look at the label.

"Beefeater. Your barkeep knows his gin. Or, are you the barkeep?" With his hat still sittin' back, he locked me down with a bewitching gaze that came through a pair of fierce, blue eyes; all icy and intense like the sled huskies you never could trust.

"Sam's the barkeep. I'm helping in his stead today."

"Well, I'm glad I chose today to enter this fine establishment. I'm sure Sam is a regular fellow, but I'd much rather get a pour from a pretty brunette."

I was glad I'd been born with a naturally flushed complexion, cause the heat came on like a fresh brand as I fumbled for a shot glass. "Would you like a pour, then?"

"I'll take two pours." He slid a nugget of gold toward me, enough for ten pours, and I got him started on the first. "What's your name?"

"Liberty, but everyone calls me Libby." I watched him down the gin like an expert. No squinting or shakes, and I filled him up again when he lowered the glass. "So, you already done with your prospecting?"

A warm smile came to him, or maybe that was me feeling the warmth. "I'm no prospector. Don't got the patience for it. I'm producing a motion picture about them, though."

"Oh. You're here with those actresses, then? I've seen them in here before. They don't seem to appreciate the weather."

He set down his glass as a husky laugh rolled out. "They hate the place. They've never been north of Vancouver."

I chuckled along with him, hoping to prolong his amusement. His laughter had a haunting tone that made me think of home when the ships came back from sea. "Me and my brothers are from Victoria. They're up on the pass."

"Ah, seeking their fortunes. And you're waiting for them to return with bags of gold in their packs, I suppose."

"It would be nice if they got something for their trouble. But I'm not countin' on them. Too many riches makes for a frivolous life, and I'm not a girl who's lookin' to be saddled by high living. Take that dance hall across the way." I pointed through the window toward the Sweetwater Theater, where the girls with real talent worked. "If I didn't have two left feet, I'd be over there in the chorus line."

"I'm sure your feet are just fine...if they're anything like the rest of you."

If I was the kind of girl that needed complimentin', I'd have been a puddle of mess. But I knew his type. They swept into town, took their fill of liquor and women, and swept back out. Although, this one had a damned sweet way about him the others didn't. It was genteel city breeding shining through those sparkly eyes, and that rugged scent was bought at some swanky shop, no doubt. 

"So, what's your name, then?" I asked.

"Lowell Palmer." He pinched the brim of his hat, dipping it over one eye, and the heat was back. "Say... You seem like a girl who isn't afraid of the weather. Would you like to join my crew? Maybe even get in front of the camera? I've hired an excellent projectionist."

"Oh, that's mighty inviting." I tugged on my lip where I'd made the skin raw. It was a terrible habit. "But I've got the saloon to look after for Sam."

"Can't Sam get someone else to look after it?"

I thought about Sam in his sick bed while his good-for-nothing uncle gambled with his cronies. "He's got an Uncle Milton who isn't doing much."

"Great. Where does Milton live? I'll go fetch him."

"You want to do this now?"

"There's no better time like the present." With that smile gleaming across the bar at me, I gave him Milton's location without even questioning the logic of it.

"Make sure Sam isn't left alone," I added. "He's not well, and he's been staying with Milton. Oh, and be warned. Milt will try and talk you into a game of cards, but don't fall for it. He's a dirty cheat."

"Don't worry, Libby. I know how to handle dirty cheats. I'll be back before you know it. And don't let anyone drain that gin." He pointed at the bottle still in my hand and left me with a friendly wink.

I got close to nothing done, except pouring the cheap stuff for a bunch of uncivilized morons, until my fancy producer returned with Milton under his arm. They looked like the best of friends.

"Hey, sweet thing." Milton offered his usual crass greeting as he joined me behind the bar, helping himself to an empty beer bottle and filling it from the cask. "Lowell tells me he's gonna make you a star."

"I'm just seein' what it's about, that's all. How is Sam?"

"Restin'." He shrugged as he brought the bottle to his lips. His lazy attitude made me want to stomp on his foot.

Lowell, on the other hand, behaved like a gentleman. He escorted me outside, holding the saloon doors open so they wouldn't slap me on the backside. After I was introduced to the actors in his crew, a pair of showy covered wagons carried us away from town. While the females in his company did not seem keen on a barmaid tagging along, I didn't mind their nasty glances. I preferred being thought of as a barmaid rather than a whore.

Once we arrived at the proper location, Lowell described everything taking place as the actors filmed various action sequences. It was incredibly fascinating, especially when Lowell insisted I be used as an extra, commanding a whole five seconds of camera time in the role of nursemaid to a prospector who had fallen off a cliff. I learned how to set a broken bone should I ever need use of the skill. Lowell was multi-talented.

The sun had set by the time we returned to town, and the saloon was hoppin'. Lowell had a private conversation with Milton and procured us the rest of the evening together. We ate supper in the back of his wagon, which was prepared by one of the actors, then Lowell wanted to dance at the hall. I tried like the dickens to get out of it, but his charm and sparkly eyes won out.

I was having such a good time, I didn't pay any mind to the chorus line girls who usually stared daggers at me. Tonight, it was just me and my fancy producer stamping around on the dance floor and enjoying Kitty's lively piano playing.

It wasn't until the evening was ending that I started to worry. I didn't want Lowell to know I slept in a bed above the saloon. A bed I shared with uncivilized morons when I needed to pay my way. "Where are you staying?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't ask me the same.

"The Comfy Coachman. The rent is high, but the linens are clean. And they serve a good strong cup of coffee."

"Try Mavis's sweet potato pie. You'll never want to eat anything else."

He chuckled and tightened his arm around mine. He'd had a hold of me since we left the dance floor. Maybe he thought I wouldn't notice, but my body wouldn't let me forget. No man had made me feel as prized as he did, and that included the boy I'd left in Victoria.

"I could eat some pie," he said. "Should we see if Mavis is still serving?"

I smiled and nodded, letting him escort me to our destination and not giving a horse's whip who might see me there. Mavis did, indeed, have two slices of sweet potato pie left, and Lowell and I enjoyed our dessert in front of a crackling fire. My nerves started to tweak again when we pushed our plates away. Lowell may not have known what I got up to, but Mavis did, and I knew she wouldn't take kindly to a lodger enjoying a whore in one of her beds. When the conversation waned, Lowell stood and extended his hand.

"Shall I walk you home?"

"You can drop me at the saloon. I want to see what kind of mess Milton has made."

"Whatever you say."

Lowell wore a smile all the way to the Mad Cat, and despite enjoying his company and rugged scent, I was anxious to get away from him before the truth came out and embarrassed us both. Gruff voices echoed through the swinging doors as we stepped onto the porch, but rather than keepin' straight, he tugged me aside, away from the noise.

"I've had one of the most enjoyable days since arriving here," he said, all smooth and buttery. "And it's all due to you, Libby."

"I can't remember a better day, either." Heat filled my head, but I didn't worry about him noticing if my face had gone red. The only light around came through the saloon window, and it was dirty as hell.

"I was hoping we could do this again tomorrow."

"Really?"

"My job is pretty easy. We can spend time together while the projectionist handles the filming. If the rain stays away, we can picnic somewhere. You choose the spot. I'm sure you know plenty of places to accommodate us."

"Logman's Bluff is nice. On a clear day, you can see the Klondike River."

"Perfect. I'll pick you up here in the morning. We're going to try for an early shoot." Before I had a chance to confirm my availability, I was receiving a kiss on the cheek. It was quick, and his mustache tickled, but mostly it was warm and oh so pleasing.

He hopped off the porch steps like he could run a mile and waved as I stood there with my hand on my face, trying to prolong the feeling. I retired for the night, letting Milton close the saloon, even knowing what kind of shape he'd leave it in. If I was going to see Lowell again, I needed a proper bath, and that would take time.

Was Lowell the man I'd been waiting for? I had all but given up after seeing the rabble that ran in and outta this place. It's why I'd turned to whoring. But maybe I'd doomed myself in the process. Maybe Lowell wouldn't want me once he learned the truth.

I woke early and got working on the saloon, which looked like someone had let the horses inside to take dumps wherever they pleased. The worst part was, I had to ask Milton to tend bar again so I could spend the day with Lowell. He seemed overly agreeable, which I figured was due to Lowell promising him something. But I would have promised about anything to be with Lowell. 

When he arrived to collect me, my heart thumped like a stampede, and I giggled at everything he said, even if it wasn't amusing. Although, most of the time, it was. Our picnic got rained out, but we found a dry patch of ground under a rocky ledge. 

The food was lovely, and the conversation bounced merrily from my stories growing up with two foolish brothers, to his family travels to America. Even the sour stares from the actresses couldn't dampen my mood, and when we returned to town, Lowell insisted we take in the chorus line show. After assuring me that I could dance circles around all those women, he walked me back to the saloon, and we parted in the same way, with him gifting my cheek with a chaste kiss.

This went on for the next two days. In the meantime, Sam recovered without any signs of Typhoid, and the morning he returned to the saloon, I was eager for him to meet Lowell. He was wiping down the bar when Lowell walked in, and I received a nudge on my elbow as I cleaned beer bottles over the tub.

"Zat your fancy producer?" he said, throwing my own words back at me. I'd already filled his ears with plenty.

"That's him." I smiled at Lowell as I set a freshly washed bottle on the counter. The sun had finally come out, and it shone on his face just right, showing a sprinkle of red in his mustache. "Good morning, sunshine," I offered, cleverly.

"Good morning to you, Liberty." Not only did his voice have a funny ring to it, but he used my full name for some reason. Maybe to impress Sam.

"Lowell, this is my old friend, Sam. Sam, this is my new friend, Lowell."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam." Lowell extended his hand for a shake, and Sam wore a stupid grin as he accepted it.

"I hear you're trying to make a star out of our, Libby," he joked.

"Nobody has to make a star out of Libby. I reckon she was born that way." Lowell finally smiled, and I let out a little sigh. He was starting to worry me with the Liberty thing. "Libby, can we talk somewhere private?"

Oh, mercy.

I followed him to an empty table, and he immediately took my hands in his. He'd been doing that lately.

"I have to leave. The crew is ready to go home, and I've been outnumbered."

"When? Today?"

"Yes. And I want you to come with us. With me."

My mouth popped open, and all I could do was stare.

"I know it seems impulsive, but I can't stop thinking about you. I want you with me. Will you come to Vancouver?"

"But...my brothers. I need to wait for them. They promised to be back before summer ends."

"Surely, they know this is no place for a sweet girl like you."

"I'm not as sweet as you think." I bit my lip, making it sting." Lowell, I have something to tell you about my...lifestyle."

"I know what you're going to say, Libby, and it doesn't matter. You have a heart of gold, and that's more precious than anything your brothers will find on that pass. We'll leave word with Sam, so they'll know where to find you."

My heart felt ready to burst. Whether it was from joy or misery, I couldn't tell. "But they're the only family I have. Our parents died going on five years now."

"Oh. You never mentioned that. I'm sorry." He dropped his gaze to our hands, and it was a long minute before he looked at me again, right in the eyes. "I'll come for you then...in Victoria. Or, if your brothers agree, you can stop in Vancouver and find me."

I didn't have to think twice. "Okay. I want to be with you too, Lowell."

The kiss he left me with was nothing like the ones he'd given me before. It was loads better, on the lips, with his hands moving to places he hadn't tried yet. And despite missing him the moment he was gone, I wore a smile for the rest of the day, until I had to get away from Sam's teasing.

What felt like the longest summer ever was just six weeks, and my little brother hobbled into the saloon one warm afternoon, supported by a man I'd never seen before.

"Libby! How I missed you." Billy's hug nearly had me retching into my sleeve as I stepped back.

"I missed you too, but you could have washed before hugging me. What's wrong with your leg?"

His face turned grave, which wasn't a look he wore often. "We were robbed. They took all our gold and shot up the camp. Killed two men. George was one of them."

If it hadn't been for the counter propping me up, I would've dropped where I stood, and the man with Billy helped me to a chair so I could sob properly. I couldn't believe George was gone.

"My name is Tom Shoemaker," said the man plainly. "Billy needs specialized medical care, which he won't get here. Although, I expect he will lose his leg all the same. It's close to gangrenous. I'm a landowner in Alberta. I've offered to see you both safely there."

"Tom befriended George and me, Libby." Billy threw an uncertain glance at Tom, but he tried to fix it with his usual lopsided smile. "He's a widower, but he's looking for a wife who can bear him children. And we were talking about what a great girl you are."

Was he joking?

"If you agree to marriage, you and your brother will enjoy a respectable life under my care," Tom continued. "Otherwise, I expect he will become a burden to you."

No. He wasn't joking.

"You don't even know me."

Tom smiled. There was a comforting ease about it, but it didn't gleam, and his eyes were too brown to sparkle. "I feel I know you already. And we will have time to learn each other's ways."

As I stared dumbly at this stranger, I thought about Lowell and the future I'd envisioned as his wife. He talked about his love of travel and adventure, which brought me joy whenever I thought of him. It wouldn't be fair to show up with a wounded brother and expect him to take us both. This was probably the best offer me and Billy were likely to get. And maybe Tom would make a fine replacement.

I swallowed hard to stifle the sigh that threatened to give away my disappointment. I knew pondering my decision would only make the moment awkward for them, so I nodded my agreement, feeling the joy drain out of me as I cursed my heart of gold. 

The End

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this quirky little tale. It didn't see much action in the anthology. I hope the story gets more exposure now. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Cheers,

M. Rider