“Sing Gentle Annie,” a man yelled.
Gentle Annie“No, Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming,” yelled another, “only this time make it real sad like.”
Come Where My Love Lies DreamingMargareatha complied and slowed the tempo. She had been singing at McGuire"s for about six weeks. The money was good and men stupidly threw coins, fractional currency (if they had it), gold lumps, or silver into the hat she had placed on a stool beside her. The men had gone wild over her. She didn"t even need to use her mind to loosen the silver in their pockets. McGuire vacillated between hearty and leering, and becoming more ruffled with each failed encounter. She was seriously thinking of changing saloons or taking Lorenz and heading to Carson City without an answer from Red. The journey would be brutal on someon
