After a few more, most mentioning more far-off places and some using words Jenny couldn’t make head or tail of, Lucette tossed the book aside and the talk turned to each girl’s worst and best customers. Amanda Jane tended to have the best of the best and the worst of the worst, ‘cause Mamie knew she could satisfy the uppity and also handle the ornery. Mandy could do impressions, and the way she strutted around with her belly pushed forward and her chin doubled up brought the mayor’s brother to life just as if he’d walked in and interrupted them. When they’d done laughing and clapping, Mandy pointed to Jenny. “How about you, young ‘un?”
Jenny never much liked having her nose rubbed in how young she was, and Amanda Jane wasn’t the only girl who did it, but it wasn’t a time to be quarrelsome. She plucked at her chin, thinking, and said, “The worst lately would be that fellow on his way east, who struck it rich mining for gold. All that gold, and he can’t buy hisself a new suit of clothes, or a shave, or a bath! And not that I was hankering to see all of him, but it would’ve been better than those clothes stiff and stinking with sweat rubbing on me, and his breath that could kill a mule ‘til I thought I’d die right there under him.”
The girls let loose with their cusses and other reactions. Sophie and Bessie, who somehow always managed to be off on the same nights, leaned forward together, Bessie saying, “And the best?”
Jenny opened her mouth and closed it again, holding back the name that wanted to pop out. She chewed her lip and said, “Oh, that’d prob’ly be the lawyer who just come through town. Now he’d troubled to buy a new suit not long since, and smelled of something I’d fair like to try for myself. And he spoke purty, all polite.”
They went round the circle from her, and when they’d all had their say, they straggled on out and upstairs. Jenny wasn’t sure what to expect when Sophie and Bessie caught up to her on the stairs, one on each side, and stuck with her all the way to her room. She’d no special wish to be on her own, though, so she let them come in and close the door.
They tugged her onto the bed with them and made themselves comfy, Bessie sitting tailor fashion and Sophie lying down with her arms and legs sprawled out and her head on the pillows. Jenny sat up next to where Sophie was lying, leaning against the headboard, and waited for whatever they had in mind. It didn’t take long. Bessie waggled a finger at her and said, “Jenny Hayes, I do believe you lied downstairs. And on the Lord’s Day, too!”
Jenny turned away and hugged her knees. She might just as well have confessed outright. Sophie rolled over to her and poked her in the ribs. “All right, then, talk!”
Bessie piped up, “It’s that big blond farm boy, isn’t it? The one with the wooden leg —” Jenny turned back to face both girls, her face getting hot, but Bessie held up her hand to stop Jenny interrupting. “— and all them lovely muscles in his arms and . . . where else, Jenny?”
Jenny let a grin take over her face and started counting on her fingers. “Lessee now, there’s his shoulders . . . and his back . . . and his legs . . . and his backside . . . .”
Both girls squealed, and Sophie said, “You sure you ain’t paying him, instead of the other way round?”
Not that Tom was exactly paying her. Mamie was the one taking in the money. Though Jenny would have felt pretty bad taking money right from Tom’s hand, at that.
Bessie leaned across to pat Jenny’s hand. “Well, you have all the fun you can with that young stud. Just don’t you go taking it serious. You’re young, but not too young to know that much, I hope.”
Jenny started to sigh and managed to turn it into a yawn. “I’m ready for bed.” Sophie snickered. Jenny gave her a light slap on the arm and said, “To sleep, you! I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Bessie cocked her head and looked at her in a way that made plain she’d noticed Jenny not answering her question. But she slid on off the bed, crooking her finger for Sophie to follow, and the two of them left Jenny’s room and went down the hall. She could hear them whispering to each other as she closed the door.
Chapter 12
It wasn’t nothing but some fruit. Nothing special, really. And nothing Mamie’s cook hadn’t served before. Just stewed plums.
Jenny must be feeling specially tender-hearted this morning, was all she could figure. Else she wouldn’t be eating the plums with tears trickling down her face. Or maybe she was getting her monthly, which’d make her get worked up easier. It was just about time.
It would’ve been worth crying over nothing, if only her monthly meant a vacation. But Mamie always said, “Every single girl in this place has her bleeding time every single month, and I don’t plan to go broke over it. There’s plenty the gentlemen’ll like without needing to spread your legs.” So if someone asked for a girl during that time, Mamie would offer the choice of that girl using just her mouth or her hands and showing off whatever part of her body they’d like to see, or some other girl ready for more. . . .
It wasn’t as if Mama’s stewed plums would’ve won prizes. The cook’s were as good or better.
But when they didn’t have much of it, Mama always used to share it with Jenny, who liked it best of all the children, even though she figured out as she got older that Mama liked it even better.
Jenny finished her breakfast as fast as she could and hurried upstairs. It was time to get herself dressed and prettied up. But maybe she could squeeze out a few minutes to do something she hardly ever tried to do.
She closed her door, wishing it had a lock on it, and tried to remember where she’d put pen and paper. In the little drawer in her dressing table? Nope. How about under her unmentionables? Not there, neither. Finally she found them on the closet shelf. But all that looking had left her even less time to spare.
She sat at the dressing table with the paper in front of her, chewing on her pen, for a precious half a minute before writing out, slow and careful, Dear Mama and —
Which of her sibs would still be at home, and which would’ve married and set up housekeeping somewhere else? No way of knowing.
Would Papa even let Mama have the letter? She could hope so. And if he didn’t like it, she was way away out of his reach.
Dear Mama and all of you —
I hope you are well. I am fine.
I hope the grasshoppers didn’t eat up everything on the farm, like happened some places, though not here.
Should she tell where here was?
I am in Nebraska, in a town some bigger’n any near you. I get to meet lots of folks.
And she’d be trampled by horses before she said how. Not that Mama wouldn’t have written her off as a tramp long since, most like.
There she went crying again. And leaving teardrops on the paper. Maybe they’d tell her tale more than she could ever stand to do.
I’m sorry I left so sudden.
She shoved herself back from the chair before the tears, coming fast now, could smudge what she’d worked so hard to put on the paper.
Amanda Jane called from outside the room, knocking heavy on the door, “Jenny! Aren’t you ready yet?” Jenny startled and jumped out of the chair, almost knocking it over, and opened her mouth to say not yet — but glory be, there was that heavy feeling below her belly, just when she needed it. She opened the door, glad now for the tears on her cheeks. “My monthly’s coming on. I’ll get dressed real quick, but would you tell Mamie for me?”
Amanda Jane gave her an up-and-down inspection and seemed satisfied. “I’ll do that, but don’t you keep her waiting.” She closed the door, not quite slamming it but making it bounce a little. Jenny picked up the paper by its edges, slid it into the drawer, dropped the pen in, and fair ran to her closet, grabbing the dress easiest to put on in a hurry.
She made it downstairs to see Mamie tapping her foot and holding her pocket watch. “About time, girl!” She shoved Jenny towards a fellow as thin as a rail with a balding head and a sallow complexion, saying in her smooth way, “Here’s the girl I was mentioning. If you like her, she’ll
make you happy in any of the ways I told you about.”
The fellow looked her over in a way that reminded her of Amanda Jane just now, except for the leer twisting his mouth up toward his long skinny nose. He didn’t waste words on her, just grabbed her hand, sniffed it, and tugged her toward the stairs.
* * * * *
Tom had been resigned to a longish dry spell as far as getting to Mamie’s was concerned. It was harder to think of than it would’ve been before he learned what he’d been missing. So it came as a real nice surprise when the bank manager’s wife picked up the shoes he’d helped make, not that he’d done that much to them, and gave him a tip before she left. The size of it made Tom’s eyes bug out and Finch’s go narrow. The old skinflint was probably wondering how he could make Tom turn it over. Tom closed his hand tight around the coins, making a fist all the while he kept his expression casual, and Finch gave a snort and turned away.
Tom had taken to carrying some jerky every day, so he wouldn’t forget and find himself with nothing to hold him if he had a reason — well, it was only one reason, so far — to stay in town. He tore at it with his teeth as he quick-stepped to Mamie’s the minute Finch locked up the shop. But when Mamie saw him, she looked somehow like she had news he mightn’t welcome. “Oh, Tom! How lovely to see you again. If it Jenny you’re here for, she’s, ah, not quite as usual just now. You know, don’t you, about how ladies have a certain time of month when they’re somewhat . . . indisposed?”
Tom hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Yes’m, I do.” He’d picked up that info from having a sister. He supposed it was the same for Ma, not that he cared to think on that. The whole business didn’t make a lot of sense to him, not in people. When a mare or a dog bitch came into season, you’d want some sign of it so you could breed them or keep them from breeding, whichever suited, but a woman could breed any time, so what exactly did it signify?
“You can still spend time with her, of course. There’s plenty she can do to make you feel good. You can ask about what you’d like and see if she can oblige, or she can explain to you what services she can provide. Of course, you may see one of the other girls if you’d prefer.”
Tom cast his eyes around the room, just in case there was someone who somehow outshined Jenny. Nope. “I’ll go with Jenny, ma’am.”
Mamie smiled brightly at him. “Lovely! Jenny, come here and say good evening to Tom. You’ll take good care of him, won’t you?”
Jenny’d already been on her way over. She reached them and said, “Of course, ma’am.” She looked a mite pale. Well, if he’d been bleeding for maybe days, he’d look plenty pale himself. He sent a quick prayer up to Heaven thanking the Lord for sparing him such.
Jenny moved a little slow as she led Tom up the stairs and to her room. When she’d closed the door, she took his hand and said, kind of shy, “That was a beautiful picture you made. You’re a real artist.”
That was a label he’d want to take out later and look at. But he had something he’d better say right off. “I’m sorry I shot off my mouth last time I was here. I — I was hateful, and I’d no call for it.”
She looked down at her feet. “I said too much, at that. I’m sorry too. Can we let bygones be bygones, then?”
Tom felt a load most as heavy as Cochise lift off him. “We sure can.”
Jenny looked happier too. “I’m glad. So now, what would you like? There’s lots we haven’t done yet that I can still do. Show you some things you might like later, even after I’m done with . . . you know.”
Tom felt his eager part getting more so at the idea, but he’d decided something on the way upstairs and meant to stick to it. “That sounds a real treat, but you could show me those things any time, I reckon. I was thinking that today, you could take it easy, and we could just talk for a spell, like we did at the saloon before things got out of hand.”
Jenny stared at him like he’d started speaking Chinese. “You’d pay Mamie? Just to sit and talk?”
Something about how startled she was made him want to put an arm around her, but she’d likely take it as his changing his mind. “I’ll pay to sit and talk to you. Seeing as that’s the only way to do it, the way things are.”
Jenny got tears in her eyes, as Tom gulped and wondered what he’d done wrong and how he could fix it. She must have read his face, because she laughed through her tears and said, “Don’t be worrying! Girls cry easy when they’ve got their monthlies, at least plenty of us. Now you just sit yourself down right there.” She pointed to the chair in the corner. He sat, expecting her to perch on the bed, but she startled him considerable by plopping herself down on his lap. She laughed again at his expression. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s cozier this way.”
Sure it was, but he was trying to be a gentleman, and her warm round rump on his lap wasn’t helping any. What did help a little, in a weird kind of way, was . . . up close like this he could tell she smelled different from usual, probably blood and whatever she used to soak it up. Still, he’d better get to talking, if he could think of even one thing to talk about.
How about her sibs? “You said you had three sisters and a brother? What’re their names?”
That was the wrong question, seemingly. Jenny sighed, her bosom pressing into his chest. “My little brother’s called Joey, after our pa. And the other girls —” Her lip started trembling, and she bit it.
He put his arm around her, trying for just enough of a squeeze to give some comfort. “Never mind that. I’m sorry I made you homesick. How about — Mamie’s pleasant to folks who come here. How is she with you girls? Is she nice or mean?”
Jenny managed a smile, though kind of a shaky one. “Oh, she’s all right. I’ve seen — that is, she could be a lot meaner. Though I’ve seen her not so much mean as cold, cold as a blizzard.” Jenny huddled up in his lap like she was taking shelter there. “That’s if one of the girls steals something from a customer. That’s the worst. Other’n that, well, she’s got her rules, and she can get riled if you break any. Like I did, going out to meet you. She locked me up good and proper for a while.”
“I’m sorry I helped get you in trouble. What other rules has she got?”
Jenny pursed her lips, looking so cute he’d have grinned if it wouldn’t interrupt her. “Well, you noticed one thing right off, about my teeth. She makes sure we keep our teeth clean, even though —” She made a face — “— it means we smell and taste the customers’ breath more, and some of ‘em, the older ones and the lazy ones, have breath that’d drop a goat.”
He laughed at that, which had the effect of pressing her backside against him more, so he stopped. “What else?”
“Well, you might think our dresses show a lot of us, but there’s plenty of girls here who’d show more if Mamie didn’t say no to it. She says she aims to run a classy place, and skirts up to the hip or bubbies hanging all the way out ain’t classy. And we have to eat everything on our plates, because men don’t come here for no skinny girls with bony ribs.”
Tom was plumb out of questions. Jenny waited for one and then, he guessed, gave up, asking, “How about Mr. Finch? What’s he like to work for?”
He’d better tread careful, even though Jenny might not be one to gossip. “What do you know of him? He comes here, don’t he?”
She wrinkled her nose. “He used to. Not lately, though, not since he got married.”
That was decent of Finch, Tom supposed. And good news for Mrs. Finch. But — wait just a damn minute! “Are you saying he never came in a few weeks back? And — spent time with you?”
Jenny shook her head, red curls flying. “I’d’ve remembered. He sweats, more’n most. I had to send what I was wearing to the laundry ahead of usual.” She wrinkled her nose even harder. “If he’d paid for me to strip naked, I’d’ve had to have a bath right after, in the middle of the busiest time, and explain it to Mamie. Don’t know which of us she’d’ve been madder at.”
Those words put such different pictures in Tom’s head that h
e didn’t know how to corral them. Finch, sweating and probably grunting like a hog on top of Jenny. Jenny, naked, all her warm soft curves there for him to look at as well as touch. That last was almost enough to make him forget —
Finch had lied to him, or at least squeezed the truth all out of shape, just to bedevil him.
Tom’s fists clenched so tight his hands started shaking. “You want to know what kind of man Finch is to work for? Well, he’s a snake, is what he is — a lying, black-tongued skinflint of a snake.” And how Tom was to go to work tomorrow and not strangle the son of a bitch, he couldn’t hardly think on.
Jenny put a hand on Tom’s cheek. “I’m right sorry to hear that. Isn’t there any other work you could do, to get shut of him?”
Tom just barely managed not to snap at her. “You recall I’m not a whole man, don’t you? Can’t even stand up for long without my stump hurting like thunder. Can’t move quick without taking a chance on sprawling on the floor.” He looked around the room. “Hell, couldn’t even be a bouncer at this place, along of any man with two good legs could flatten me in no time. And I don’t read and write well enough for a clerk, even if I could stand to sit at some desk all day and peer at paper. What else am I supposed to do?”
Jenny didn’t have an answer for that, or so he thought. But after sitting quiet for a couple of minutes, she sat up straighter and said with some energy behind it, “What about the way you make pictures on leather? Those flowers were so pretty, any girl’d be glad to have something like. And didn’t you tell me you put some fancy design on a cowboy’s saddle?”
He could still see that saddle as clear as if it were lying on Jenny’s bed. “I sure did. Feathers. And he was right pleased with it. But Finch don’t want me trying to get more of that work. I asked.” And anyway, he’d still be working for Finch, having to listen to his oily voice and dirty jokes, and maybe to more lies about what he and Jenny had been up to.
Still, Jenny had tried to help, and she was looking worried about how glum Tom had got. To please her, he said, “I’ll think about it, and maybe come up with some way, all right?”
What Frees the Heart Page 8
