When Love Comes Read Online Free PDF Page B

war, he’d gained a fair reputation as a ballad singer. But though audiences might put up with a ruined face in a villain, they wouldn’t pay to see a disfigured singer of romantic ballads and nostalgic songs.
    He had accepted long ago that a return to the stage was impossible. He’d learned to like his work on Cade’s ranch. He especially enjoyed working with the men who’d been his comrades during the war. They shared a bond of friendship that men who’d never lived through a war together couldn’t understand. He was lucky in his friends and lucky to be alive, so he threw off his ill humor and headed toward the saloon.
    It wasn’t a big saloon, but it was crowded. The room was long and narrow with a low stage at the far end. Lanterns suspended from the ceiling dispensed a yellow glow that struggled to make its way through the haze of cigar smoke. All the tables were occupied, as was most of the space at the bar. But he managed to find a place at the end. If he stood at just the right angle, he could turn the left side of his face away from the crowd. He’d have a hard time attracting the bartender’s attention, but he had an unobstructed view of the whole room. The men ranged in age from what seemed to be teens to men in their twilight years, most still wearing their work clothes. He couldn’t tell whether their high spirits were the result of some specific event or characteristic of every evening.
    “What can I get for you?”
    The bartender looked too young to be working in a saloon. He also bore an uncanny resemblance to Amanda. In turning, Broc exposed the left side of his face. The bartender recoiled.
    “What in hell happened to you?”
    “A war wound.”
    “From the looks of that, you ought to be dead.”
    “I nearly was.” He hated having to talk about his wound, but it was either talk about it or appear morose and unfriendly. “I don’t really want anything to drink. I just came in to hear Amanda Liscomb sing.”
    “Then stay in this corner. If she gets a look at that face, she won’t be able to sing a note. Hell, it might even put these cowboys off their feed, and they’ve seen just about everything.”
    Encounters like this had convinced Broc to bury himself on Cade’s ranch where no one but his friends would see him. It was ironic that it had been his face that had once propelled him to popularity. Now his face was condemning him to live in obscurity. Broc turned his left side back to the wall and waited. It was less than a minute before he saw Amanda.
    She was carrying two plates of food. Several men spoke to her as she passed, some even reached for her, but she avoided the touches and turned off the comments with a smile. He could see why Mrs. Liscomb said working in the saloon wasn’t suitable for a young woman. The men weren’t actually disrespectful, but neither were they treating her the way Broc would have wanted them to treat Amanda had she been his sister. He’d twice gotten into fights on the riverboats with men who tried to get too familiar with one of his sisters. Both men had been forced to apologize.
    Amanda delivered the food and moved to a second table,where she collected some empty glasses, then disappeared through a door at the back of the saloon.
    “She won’t sing for a while yet.” The bartender was back with a whiskey, which he set down before Broc. “You might as well have something to drink.”
    Broc paid for his drink and took a swallow. It wasn’t in the same class with the whiskey he’d had while staying with Rafe, but it was good compared to what he’d had in other saloons. He could see why the Open Door was so popular. Too many saloon owners tried to increase their profits by watering down the beer and serving rotgut whiskey.
    Over the next thirty minutes he watched Amanda serve half the tables in the room. The saloon employed two other waitresses, but every man wanted Amanda to wait on him. Broc had no difficulty understanding why. The other two women