He stepped aside to let her pass, but the burn of his gaze followed her down the narrow hallway to her dressing room. The door stuck slightly—it always did in the damp mountain air—and she had to put her shoulder against it to get it open.
The small space barely contained a washstand, a cracked mirror, and a trunk for her costumes. But it was hers, the only place in Virginia City where she could drop the mask of Ruby Starling and simply be Rose Prescott again.
She sank onto the single wooden chair and unpinned her hair, letting the auburn waves fall around her shoulders. In the mirror’s reflection, the weariness in her own green eyes stared back at her. Her smile had become a practiced thing that never quite reached them anymore.
Sixteen years left. The contract stretched ahead of her like a prison sentence, payment for her mother’s medical bills and funeral expenses. Vincent had been so generous, so understanding when Mama lay dying. He’d taken care of everything—the doctors, the medicines, the burial plot. All Rose had to do was sign her name and promise to perform until the debt was paid.
She’d been fifteen and desperate. Now she was nineteen, and the debt seemed to grow rather than shrink with each passing month.
She pulled out the day-old copy of the Virginia City Enterprise that someone had left behind in the saloon. She often read the advertisements, though she couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was the glimpse they offered into other lives, other possibilities.
Her gaze drifted over notices for mining equipment, cattle for sale, and rooms to let. Then a small advertisement near the bottom of the page snagged her attention:
Seeking Respectable Woman for Household Position
She read the words advertising the job of household assistant twice, then a third time, her heart beating faster. It sounded like a dream…or an echo from the past. A peaceful mountain ranch. Away from the smoke and noise and calculating eyes. Away from Vincent.
But even as hope flickered to life in her chest, reality crashed over her like snowy water. The contract. Vincent would never let her leave. And he had contacts everywhere. He would find her and drag her back. Then he’d make her pay for ever thinking she could best him.
Still, her fingers traced the words peaceful mountain ranch. What would it be like to wake up to clean mountain air instead of the stale smoke of the saloon? To spend her days helping with honest work instead of performing for strangers who saw only what they wanted to see? Singing in front of men who saw her as a thing to enjoy instead of a person.
Walnut Springs. The name stirred something in her memory, though she couldn’t place what.
She couldn’t remember the name of the town nearest the Balfour ranch, but might Walnut Springs be it?
Surely not. The Montana Territory was so vast—it could be anywhere. Perhaps she’d heard a drunken miner mention the name.
She folded the newspaper and tucked it into her trunk beneath her spare chemise. Just having it there, hidden away like a secret, made something flutter in her chest that she hadn’t felt in months. Years even.
Hope, perhaps. Or maybe only the desperate craving for something different.
She stood and moved to the small window, pushing aside the faded curtain to look out at the night. Virginia City sprawled below in a maze of flickering lights and shadows, the constant noise of the saloons echoing even at this late hour.
Somewhere beyond those hills lay ranch country—wide open spaces where a person could breathe freely. She barely remembered what that felt like. She and her mother had moved here when she was nine, and she had so few memories from before.
But sometimes, in dreams, she remembered sunshine streaming through tall windows and the sound of laughter echoing through spacious rooms. A kitchen that smelled of fresh bread and herbs, not stale beer and tobacco. Strong hands teaching her to knead dough, and a boy with dark hair who used to make her laugh until her sides ached.
Those memories felt like someone else’s life now, soft and golden and impossibly distant.
A place she could never return.
Rose pressed her forehead against the cool glass. The advertisement would be for a different ranch, so maybe…
But she couldn’t respond. Of course she couldn’t.
The contract felt like heavy chains around her wrists, binding her to this smoky world where she was nothing more than Vincent’s investment.
Yet if she could find a way to get free of Vincent. If she could line up work before she attempted escape…
Did she dare?
She pressed her palm against the cold pane. Once upon a time, she’d believed God watched over her. That he cared about a little girl and her mother who’d had to leave the safe, happy ranch and go on an adventure to the city.
But He hadn’t answered when Mama’s breath grew thin and rattling. He hadn’t answered when Vincent’s contract chained her. Perhaps heaven helped women who had earned it somehow—good women, strong women. Not the sort who sang to keep a man’s ledger balanced.
“Please,” she whispered before she could stop herself. The word felt foolish in the smoky dark. “If You see me—if You still do—let me out.” Only silence followed.
She would have to find her own way.
