She’d been trying not to get nervous about going to meet Tom, but now she was moving past nervous to downright fretful. At least the kind of lady who’d insult Mamie to her face wouldn’t dirty herself setting foot in a saloon.
Oh, blast. Didn’t the saloon keepers have Mamie’s brothel tokens to sell to customers? Mamie hadn’t put Jenny’s likeness on any of those, had she? The ones Jenny’d seen had what looked like Amanda Jane’s profile on one side, and “Madam Mamie’s” in fancy script on the other . . . . Too late to pick some other place to meet. Mamie probably hadn’t thought Jenny looked special enough for a token, anyhow.
She didn’t have much choice of what to wear. The clothes she’d brought to town with her had long since been thrown away, and Mamie allowed the girls just one outfit apiece for trips to town. Even those made pretty clear they weren’t farmers’ wives or merchants’ daughters or the like. Mamie didn’t believe in wasting a chance to promote what they had on offer. But Jenny could tuck a shawl around her shoulders and hold it closed, even if tomorrow was as warm as today.
And she should be able to sneak out without painting her face. But on the other hand, she did want to look pretty for Tom. She’d just make her eyelashes longer and put some color on her lips. She was excited enough for her cheeks to pink up on their own.
* * * * *
It would be a day when Tom had the dirtiest, smelliest jobs in the shop. But he’d brought a clean shirt with him, to change into out back, and he managed to wash off some of the mess at the pump and comb his hair.
He made a point of getting to the saloon before the time they’d picked, so Jenny wouldn’t be sitting on her own and maybe catching some other fellow’s eye. That left him sitting with a beer for a few minutes, trying not to drink it down too quick and end up drunk. But she finally came through the door, afternoon sun lighting her hair from behind so it glowed all around her head and shoulders, fair dazzling him.
Her dress looked like the one she’d worn the first day he saw her, not that he had paid much attention to it. It sure wasn’t one she’d had on when he saw her at Mamie’s, which would have looked pretty strange anywhere else, come to think on it. But from what he could tell under the shawl she was wearing, it still showed enough of her bosom to get him remembering what it felt like to touch her up close. He took another quick drink of his beer and then shoved it aside as he stood up to greet her.
Jenny’s smile was different from the one she had at Mamie’s, too — sweeter and shyer. She swished her way to the seat next to Tom, sat down, and asked him, “Is there something I can get here that ain’t actually booze?”
Tom hadn’t spent that much time in places like this, let alone paid attention to what all the men were drinking. “They’ve probably got some kind of whiskey punch. You could get that without the whiskey. Or I think they’ll have lemonade.”
Jenny’s eyes brightened up like a kid promised a stick of candy. “I’d love lemonade. Mamie don’t let no one but customers drink it. Would you order it for me?” She reached into her pocket and brought out a coin. “I can pay —”
He pushed her hand back toward her pocket. “Think I’d let a lady pay for her own drink?”
Jenny looked down into her lap and then back at him. “That’s maybe the first time anyone’s called me a lady, except with some other word like little or painted attached to it.”
Tom had nothing to say to that, so he ordered her lemonade, glad they actually had it, and gave in to the barkeep’s suggestion of a second beer. They sat not saying anything until their drinks showed up, which was more than long enough to make him twitchy. While Jenny took the first sip of her lemonade, he managed to say, “I’m glad you could make it here like we planned. Did you run into any trouble?”
Jenny bit her full lower lip. “Not yet, anyhow.” She smiled again, though it seemed to cost her an effort. “I sure was happy to see you setting there.”
Now what?
He should find out more about her. He hadn’t asked her one thing about herself or her family up to now. He wet his whistle and asked, “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
She got a faraway look as she said, “Three sisters and a brother. I’m the youngest, and my brother come just before me. Mama was always saying how glad she was she didn’t have him first, along of how he might’ve had to go off to war. How about you?”
“A younger brother and sister. Billy and Martha. It’s different being the oldest, and a boy. At least, it was, before —” He trailed off. She’d know what he meant. It should’ve been Tom taking care of his folks as they got older, and his sister, and being the one his brother looked up to and tried to be like. But that all changed when the plowshare fell.
Jenny put a hand lightly on his arm, then pulled it away as if he might take it wrong. He wished he had the nerve to tell her how good it felt, and that she could leave it there as long as she liked.
She looked down at her lap again and back up. “At least they’re hereabouts. I haven’t seen my sisters or brother for years now.” She didn’t mention her folks. Maybe it hurt too much to think of what it’d be like, them seeing her now and knowing how she was living.
She tilted her head and studied him like his face was a book she was reading. “I’d bet you’re wondering how I came to the life.”
Tom cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I was. Seeing as you’re sweet and pretty enough to have your pick of fellows, without . . . going that way. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
Jenny looked around as if only now thinking she should’ve been talking more quiet. She dropped her voice to say, “Well, Papa wasn’t the best father a girl ever had, by some ways. To put it straight, he was mean as a snake. Weren’t many boys who wanted to deal with him. And he couldn’t hang onto a dollar, so by the time I come along, there wasn’t much I could expect to start out with. And I was eager to get my distance from him and his belt. So when a city slicker come through town and offered to take me with him, so long as I was obliging about my favors, well, it seemed like better’n how things were, or were likely to get by my staying put.”
She didn’t have more to say about it, seemingly, and he wasn’t about to ask her what had happened to the city slicker, where he’d left her or she’d left him, and how she’d gone from obliging one man to obliging many and for pay. And somehow, he’d made it through half his second beer.
Thank the Lord, Jenny took a turn steering the conversation. “Where’d you learn to draw like that? I’ve never seen the like of that leather picture.”
Tom shrugged. “Never learned, just started doing it. Guess I liked to look at the pictures on posters and catalogs and such, and tried making my own. It’s nothing special.”
She made a cute little huffing noise at him. “Don’t you say that! It’s plenty special. I’d bet all sorts of folk wish they could do as much.” She paused, wrinkling up her forehead and pursing her pretty lips, and then said, “I’ve got some paper I don’t . . . use much. I could give you some, next time I see you, if you wanted something else to draw on.”
Tom thought that over for a minute and shook his head. “Thank you kindly, but paper’s awful easy to wrinkle up or lose. I like leather, how it sticks around. And I like the way it feels carving at it, how it don’t let you through right at once and you have to work at it a little.”
“Well, you keep right on doing it, then. There should be some way you can get folks to pay you for it, wouldn’t you think?”
He started to tell her about his idea that Finch had shot down, but just then, a big fellow came swaggering up and sat on the stool on Jenny’s other side, looking her up and down and getting his eyes stuck on her chest. “What have we here?” He turned to the barkeep and said, “Whyn’t you tell me you’d got your own girls now? Are they just for socializing, or will they get more friendly-like?” He leaned close to Jenny, breathing on her.
Jenny flushed and scooted over toward Tom. “Mister, I’m not here for wha
tever you’re thinking. Just meeting a friend for a drink, if it’s any of your business.”
“Oh, it’s my business I’m wanting to give you, sure enough! What’s your friend got that I don’t?”
The barkeep growled at the big fellow, “None of that. We aren’t peddling flesh in here. You can go to Mamie’s for that.” He jerked his chin toward Jenny. “Where I’m thinking you can see this girl again, whenever.” And then, to Jenny: “Meanwhile, you just take yourself on out of here. I don’t need trouble, not with customers and not with Mamie neither.”
Tom stood up, wishing he’d drunk less of that second beer so he’d be less inclined to wobble. “Now see here —”
Jenny caught his arm. “Let’s just go. The more of a fuss you make, the more likely I’ll be in trouble with Mamie.”
Tom gave the barkeep and the big fellow one glower between them, put his arm around Jenny’s shoulders, and took her out the door.
Once they’d put some distance between themselves and the saloon, Tom steered her to an out-of-the-way spot behind the barber shop. “What do you want me to do now? I’d like to walk you partway home, but I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
She gave him a smile that would’ve been more convincing without her lip trembling. “I’ll be fine. Anyhow, it was worth it to sit and talk for a while, without — without anyone expecting something else to be happening. I’d like to do it again, if we can manage it.”
He took her hand in both of his. “I’d like that too. And in the meantime, I’d be most happy to come to Mamie’s and see you there, if you’re still willing.”
She sort of laughed in an unhappy way. “There’s a change, someone coming into Mamie’s and wondering if I’m willing. But of course I am, or I wouldn’t be there, would I?” Then she reached her free hand up to stroke his cheek. “And I will be, when you come.”
He let go and stood there, feeling the warm tingle on his cheek where his hand had been and watching her sweet shape as she walked away.
* * * * *
“I swear, I’d take a strap to you if it wouldn’t get in the way of you working tonight.” Mamie paced back and forth in her office, too riled to sit still, glaring at Jenny with every pass while Jenny clung to the arms of the chair and tried to keep breathing. “Breaking the rules and near starting a riot to boot!”
“Ma’am, it weren’t exactly like that —” She faltered to a halt as Mamie’s glare got hotter. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I won’t do it again. And it didn’t lose you Tom’s business, as he’s planning to come back.”
Mamie finally came to a stop and plopped down in her chair. “A good thing too, or I’d be docking your pay to make up the difference. And you can just do without shopping, or setting your foot outdoors for that matter, for the next two weeks, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. May I go, ma’am?”
“Go on, then. Get dressed for customers and get your tail back downstairs.”
Jenny fled, creeping away with her shoulders hunched and hoping no one had been listening. She’d been lucky Mamie was too practical to lick her, even with being so mad.
It was just too bad if that taste of freedom had Jenny hankering for more.
When Jenny got to the second floor, the two newest girls were leaning over the banister waiting for her, together as usual. They’d come to Mamie’s as a pair after traveling for something like five years and through maybe seven different towns. There’d been plenty of whispering about just what kind of friends they were and what they got up to together, not that Jenny cared, except she was kind of curious about what two women would do to make each other feel good. Just now, Sophie was grinning and Bessie was smirking, but not in a mean way.
Bessie talked first, as she tended to. “Well, how bad was it? Did she just scold, or did she whip you?”
Jenny headed on into her room, knowing the two of them would follow and not minding the company. “She said she would’ve if it wouldn’t stop me working.”
Sophie cackled. “Hell, it wouldn’t stop me! Plenty of times I’ve laid on my back with my rump just warmed. I kind of like it.” She winked at Bessie, who tilted her head and wagged her finger. Then the two of them blew kisses at her and sashayed off to Bessie’s room, where Sophie seemed to stay whenever she wasn’t working.
Jenny trudged on into her room and sat heavy on the bed, wondering. What’d it be like to travel around like that, with a friend who’d have your back and cheer you up when you needed it? The thought appealed, but there wasn’t a girl at Mamie’s she could picture doing it with. And just thinking about it made her lonely. Which she’d maybe been feeling already, but hadn’t known it.
Whatever else they were to each other, Sophie and Bessie acted sort of like sisters. Jenny could remember horsing around with her own sisters, and how she’d taken it for granted, having them around to play with and talk to and just sit with. When she left town, she’d hardly thought about missing them.
But oh, how she missed them now.
Chapter 9
Tom’s own groan woke him up. The sticky feel of his sheets woke him the rest of the way.
No surprise that he’d dreamed about Jenny. Who else could he have that kind of dream about? And it wasn’t like he’d done her wrong by dreaming about her doing what she’d actually done, with him and who knows how many others. But it felt wrong, all the same. Like taking advantage.
Would it be better if he pictured the two of them somewhere else? Off by themselves on the prairie, maybe, at sunrise. Making love, just because they both wanted to. He could see it all plain . . . and it led to the same ending, but with him awake the whole time and helping things along.
After, he lay in bed panting until his heart slowed down. But his imagination wasn’t through with Jenny, seemingly, even though he didn’t need to picture any more sex. It wandered off to the sort of place he might have seen her if they’d met, really met, some other way. In the dry goods shop, going through fabrics for a dress, her forehead wrinkled up like it had been before she got that amazing idea to help his itching. Or what she’d look like if she were just another farm girl, churning butter, her chest bouncing as she worked . . . no, he didn’t want to go that direction.
He hauled himself out of bed, even though it was early for it. His heart was beating fast again, and he could feel the pulse of it in his stump. He waited, thinking about cold baths, and about staring at a cow rump and milking, until his heart slowed down. When it finally did, he checked the cloth on his stump — still clean enough — and scooted to the side of the bed where he could reach the wooden leg.
Heading to the pump to wash his face, he got to wondering if he could ever find a way for Jenny and his folks to meet each other. Not that it made much sense thinking about that, not unless he was hoping to keep seeing her outside of Mamie’s, and he didn’t even know how much hell she’d caught about the last time.
Had Pa ever seen her, in town or . . . did Pa ever go to Mamie’s? He’d never thought of him doing that. And he didn’t much like the taste of the idea. If it was something lots of husbands did, or even most of them, wouldn’t Pa have mentioned it? Or maybe he’d been waiting until Tom starting seeing some girl and courting her. Which hadn’t happened before everything changed.
Did Pa figure Tom’d never have a girl of his own? Would he be glad or sorry to know what Tom was doing instead?
Doc Gibbs looked mighty serious as he peered at Tom’s stump. “Looks like you’ve been standing and walking too much, or not changing the sock enough, or doing something else to irritate this. Maybe squatting down and standing up? Does Silas make you pick things up and carry them very often?”
Tom looked away. “Not all that often.” Probably more often than Doc would approve of, but that wasn’t the only reason the stump had got sore. Tom had been volunteering to do jobs like that. And he’d been trying to work standing up, so he wouldn’t look lazy.
It maybe didn’t make a lot of sense, given that Finch knew his conditio
n and took Tom on anyway. And it wasn’t as if it mattered that much what the customers thought. But he kept picturing Jenny watching him, and looking sorry for him when he spent too long sitting down or let Finch do the sort of things an assistant should do. And he didn’t want her feeling sorry for him.
Now Doc was studying Tom’s face instead of his leg. “I hope you’ll understand why I’m asking — has any of what’s been irritating your leg, ah, taken place at Mamie’s?”
Now that might’ve been more worthwhile. “No, Doc, nothing like that. In fact . . . .” Somehow he found himself spilling the tale about the saloon, and how nice it’d been and then how wrong it’d gone.
When he’d finished, Doc said, “I’ll be back there in a week or so for the ladies’ usual checkups. I could find out whether Jenny suffered any ill consequences when Madam Mamie found out — as I’m pretty sure Mamie would have, and not long afterward. Would you like me to inquire?”
“Yessir, please. It was my idea as much as hers, and I’d hate to think Mamie came down hard on her.”
Doc had got a sort of gleam in his eye. “Your idea as much as hers, was it? That suggests, it seems to me, that it was her idea as much as yours.”
He supposed so. And it felt good to remember as much.
The next week somehow lasted twice as long as usual before Joshua finally caught up with Tom on his walk home and brought him up to date. “Mamie wasn’t too harsh with the young lady over that escapade of yours, but she’s keeping her indoors for a while, and I’d expect she’ll continue to watch her closely. I don’t think you’d better plan any more sneaking around, not if you want her to remain employed.”
Tom had his mixed feelings about that, seeing as what her employment meant, but he could hardly wish her left high and dry. It wasn’t as though he could provide for her. He forced out a few words of thanks and headed home in no good humor.
What Frees the Heart Page 6
