This time Mamie did smile, which let about a quarter of the load on Jenny’s heart drop off. “Yes, that is the problem with dictionaries, isn’t it? At least if you try to use them for spelling. They’re really meant to tell you what a word means.”
Could that be true? “If I didn’t know what a word meant, I’d hardly be using it, now would I?”
Mamie’s look shifted toward almost gentle. “Dictionaries are intended for those who read a good deal, and come upon words they don’t know.”
Well, that left Jenny out. But Mamie added, “Reading more is likely to help your spelling, if you care about that.”
While Jenny thought that over, Mamie went over to the corner and crouched by the cuff link, looking at it close and finally picking it up. She stood up and suddenly thrust her hand with the cuff link in Jenny’s face. Jenny fell backward on the bed. Mamie bent over her, studying her face some more, and finally nodded. “All right, girl, I believe you. If I can’t read a face by now, I should retire and knit booties for somebody’s grandbabies.”
Jenny just managed not to start crying again. She scrambled off the bed and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. “Thankee, ma’am. I surely do appreciate it. And I’m sorry I took the book without asking.”
Mamie patted her on the shoulder. “If you want to do some reading, you may take one book at a time without bothering me about it.” Her eyes went narrow again. “And I will be watching you a little closer than usual, just in case I’m wrong. So you mind all the rules and stay out of trouble.”
“Yes’m. I will. I’ll do everything right.”
Mamie actually laughed. “That’ll be a first for any of my girls, or me for that matter. But you go on and try.”
Mamie took pity on her that evening and aimed the crankier customers at other girls, sending her upstairs first with a nice old guy who’d come from an even smaller town and was all wide-eyed about what Cowbird Creek had to offer. And after she’d made him happy and let him tell her how sweet and pretty she was, the next fellow was a randy youngster, who’d prob’ly never had a woman before and didn’t take much of her time, which she tried to make him think was just how it ought to be. Though if he came back, she might let him know different, or his wife would someday be pretty unhappy about it.
Problem was, that young fellow made her think of Tom. Who’d been better at it right off, leg or no, and by now was a lot of fun to roll around with. Not to mention making his pictures for her and of her. And listening to her when she talked.
Tom’d know she hadn’t stolen nothing. Or would he? Maybe he figured all whores was thieves and cheats. How’d she know what he thought?
Even if she hadn’t been raised better, it’d be plain stupid to steal here, where she’d be sure to get caught. If a whore was going to do any thieving, it’d make more sense for girls like Sophie and Bessie, who kept on the move. They could take anything small enough to hide and just leave town, as long as it wasn’t worth so much that the sheriff’d bother chasing ‘em. She’d have to be awful hard up before she’d do a thing like that.
As hard up as she’d’ve been if Mamie had thrown her out.
It’d be better, some ways, to plan on moving around, and not counting on anyone to trust you or believe what you said.
Jenny came into the lounge after a night of bad dreams, scolding herself for being afeared of wealthy gentlemen. Just because one such had been careless with his cufflinks didn’t mean they’d all start leaving their property behind them. It had only happened the once. It wouldn’t happen again.
And she’d search her room after, just to be sure.
Still and all, she was gladder’n ever, along with surprised, to see Tom, morning light turning his hair all gold. He walked right up to her, beaming all across his face. “Finch took sick! I thought he’d keep me busier’n ever, but seems he don’t want me in his shop without him being there. And I’ve —” He stopped himself, looked around, and went quieter. “I’ll tell you why later, but I ain’t so short of money as usual. So I could afford to put my day off to good use.”
She couldn’t rightly say whether he took her hand or she took his, but she tugged him toward the stairs, and up they went. She thought he’d grab her right off, but he held her by the arms and just looked at her for a minute. “You’re always pretty, and tired don’t change it, but you do look tired. Is anything the matter?”
She wanted to tell him, even with being afraid he’d think her a thief. She may as well find out whether he saw her as someone likely to do such a thing.
He was looking more worried the longer she didn’t say nothing. She opened her mouth and then shut it again, not sure she had the nerve to go through with it. He glanced around like he wanted to be sure no one was watching, and then walked her over to the bed and set her down, sitting down beside her, looking awkward in a sweet kind of way. He took her hand and asked, “Whatever it is, you want to tell me about it? I don’t mind listening.”
If she didn’t, she’d be leaving him wondering and maybe thinking up something worse. And she’d have a hard time getting on with what she was supposed to be doing. She took a deep shaky breath and told him the whole story, about the cuff link and how she’d found it, and what a mess she’d made of telling Mamie. She’d already got started before she realized she couldn’t hardly tell the tale without mentioning the Dictionary. She wasn’t sure what was worse, him knowing she was weak on spelling or knowing how she minded it.
She got through it by hurrying through the telling. At least she had a way right at hand to change the subject as soon as she’d finished. She kissed Tom on the cheek and said as bright as she could, “Now that’s over and done with! It’s time I cheered up, and you’re just the man to do it.”
He sat still for a minute and then put an arm around her. “I’d like that fine. Of course. But I’m sorry you had all that happen. I know you must’ve been scared. You feeling all right now?”
She grabbed his free hand and kissed it before giving him the kind of smile he’d have expected when he come in. “Much better, and ready to do as much for you.”
She’d give him as good a time as ever he’d had, to thank him for knowing something was wrong and caring that it was.
* * * * *
Lying on his back, trying to catch his breath, Tom thanked the good Lord for the beauty and roundness and warmth of womankind. And for what fireworks a woman and man could set off together.
He’d been afeared that with Jenny upset like she’d been, things wouldn’t go so well. It had even crossed his mind to make his excuses and leave. But she’d made plain she didn’t want him to, and he couldn’t’ve got his money back anyhow. And in the end, it had all been way better’n all right.
He rolled over to look at Jenny, hoping she was feeling half as much in charity with the world as he was, and saw she was looking up at the ceiling and chewing on her lip a little with her front teeth. Not like she’d started fretting about the rich fellow’s cuff link again, but like she was pondering a question. Then she sat up and nodded like she’d figured out the answer. She reached over and ran a finger down his arm. “You know, I’ve been wishing you’d come in soon. Wishing hard.”
That made him sit up, quick enough he almost jostled her hand. She’d never said something like that before. What did she mean by it? Just that he gave her a good time, and wasn’t as smelly or homely or wrinkled as some of those she had to put up with? Or that she had some sort of other feelings?
Rather’n try to figure all that out right here and now, he gave the answer that wouldn’t change no matter what she meant. “Wish I could. But you know what keeps me from it.”
Jenny laid her hand flat on his arm, maybe so he’d know she wasn’t trying to get him stirred up again. “I know. Which is what gave me an idea.”
She had a different look on her face than what he’d ever seen. In another girl, he’d call it . . . shy? In case that’s how she was feeling, he put his free hand on hers and pressed a l
ittle to reassure her. “What’s your idea?”
She hesitated and then said kind of quiet, “When you come here and spend coin you’ll likely miss, I could pay you back some of it. I’ve saved up a little money. Not a whole lot — and I might need some of it for . . . .” She faltered, took a deep breath, and then went on, “— for something I might be wanting to do. I don’t know if what I can spare’ll be enough. But it’d help, at least.”
She still had that shy look, but hopeful along with it. Could he take her money? It didn’t seem right, if she was trying to save up just like he was. “What’d it mean to you, day to day, if you had less coin? Aside from saving up? What do you have to pay for here?”
Jenny scooted closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Not so very much. Handkerchiefs and such. New clothes — Mamie has a tailor come through every few months. And little things like ice cream when we go to town.”
Tom stroked her hair, fancying he could feel the warmth of its color. “Mamie’d likely have something to say about you not buying clothes when the time came.”
And besides that . . . It wouldn’t feel right to take her money when he came to be with her. It’d be like — like he was what she was.
Which he had just enough sense not to say out loud.
He felt as well as heard Jenny sigh. “You’re right about that. But the tailor won’t be coming for months yet. I could help out a time or two before then.”
He turned toward her, which made her move her head and look startled for just a moment before he pulled her close and kissed her. It ended up being a few kisses before he could stand to pull away again and say, “It means a lot to me that you’d do what you’re offering. But I’ll try to come sooner without you having to. And I likely can, along of what I wanted to tell you. I’ve started working on saddles on my own, outside of Finch’s! I’ve got cowboys coming straight to me now.”
Jenny’s smile might’ve been brighter’n ever before. She reached for his hands and squeezed them. “I’m so proud of you, Tom! I couldn’t hardly hear better news.”
He had a sudden notion to raise up her hands and kiss them. Instead, he squeezed back and waited, awkward, for her to let go. When she did, he took himself out the door before he could say something that made him look a fool. Even something true.
Chapter 19
“Mamie wants to see you in her office. She’s got some fellow there.” Bessie looked mighty curious. This wasn’t how Mamie introduced the girls to customers. And she didn’t have the big ‘ol clue Jenny had, so she didn’t know Jenny was like to be in bad trouble. Jenny hustled off toward Mamie’s office before Bessie could ask any questions, or get a closer look at what Jenny’s face must look like.
It had to be that lawyer, come back through town for some reason, maybe just to bedevil Jenny. He didn’t believe her about the cuff link, and he’d talked Mamie into not believing her either — and weren’t lawyers supposed to be able to talk anybody into anything? Or — she stopped short. What about the other cuff link? She’d never thought to wonder what happened to it. It must have fell out too, and be hiding somewhere in her room, maybe under her bed. And the lawyer had come back to get it . . . .
Jenny could hear Mamie talking to the man as she approached Mamie’s closed door. He didn’t sound mad, nor Mamie neither. Jenny knocked, louder’n she’d meant to. It was the man who opened the door — and if she’d ever seen him before, she must be worse at remembering than she’d thought. And he wasn’t dressed like no lawyer. He wore leather trousers, and he was carrying a set of long poles with some sort of big boxy gadget on one end. Was that a camera? She’d never seen one, but what else could it be?
Mamie was sitting at her ease behind her desk, not riled or nervous. “Come in, Jenny. This gentleman came in with a request, and I thought you might be just the girl for what he had in mind.”
Jenny couldn’t figure why Mamie wanted to tell her the gentleman’s tastes up here in her office, instead of in the lounge. Maybe what he liked was so twisted she didn’t want other customers to hear about it. And maybe she was handing him Jenny as a punishment for the Dictionary and the cuff link and all. Jenny stood there, her hands behind her back, and waited to hear the worst.
Mamie waved toward the man. “Mr. Blixt, why don’t you explain who you are and why you’ve come calling.”
The man gave Jenny a big warm smile. “As Madam Mamie says, my name is Blixt, and I’m a photographer. You’ve seen photographs now and then?”
Jenny nodded, her eyes so wide they ached with it.
“I particularly like taking photographs of comely young women like yourself. I make them — the photographs, you understand — into postcards, that people can write messages on and send in the mail, but mostly just keep and admire.”
Jenny wrinkled her forehead. With all the world of girls to choose from, why was he here at Mamie’s with his camera and his smooth talk?
Oh. That was it. All those other girls, town girls in fine houses and farmers’ daughters with boys ready to marry ‘em, might have different ideas about what they’d be willing to wear, or do, with a camera pointed at ‘em.
And she could just picture what kind of admiring the men would do, once they got hold of these postcards.
Well, for all that, it sounded like less work than entertaining those men in person. And she had to feel kind of good that Mamie’d picked her out. From now on, Jenny could hear “pretty as a picture” and know it had meant her, this once.
She dropped a little curtsy, the first one in longer than she could reckon, and said, “Yessir. You just tell me what you’d like me to do.” Not so different from what she’d be saying if he were the usual sort of customer. Heck, for all she knew, he’d be that as well, once his picture-taking was over with.
“Jenny, show the gentlemen what you have in your closet. Mr. Blixt, if there’s anything lacking for your pictures, you send Jenny to tell me about it, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
“Yes’m.” Jenny put out her hand to Mr. Blixt. “This way, mister.”
The photographer’s hand was warm and, thank goodness, dry. “Let’s go make some art!”
Being ahead of him, Jenny could roll her eyes without him seeing. Art, was it? Well, she’d seen a picture of a sculpture once, some Greek goddess from forever ago, who was curvy enough, and plenty of her showing. Now it was Jenny’s turn to be art, seemingly.
She’d figured Mr. Blixt would take one or two pictures. But he had her try on like to half her closet. If she wore a dress, he had her slipping it off her shoulders, or unbuttoned and her looking over her shoulder with a come-over-here smile, or her sitting on the bed with the skirt hiked way up and both limbs showing. And sometimes he had her in just her unmentionables, leaning back on her arms so her bosom stuck out toward the camera. And sometimes smiling, sometimes just looking slutty. And every time, she had to hold still for longer’n she was used to.
And she’d thought this was less work than letting some fellow lie atop her and do what he wanted? Well, now she knew better.
As Jenny was finally taking off her clothes at the end of the night, Mamie tapped on her door and came in. “Well, how did you like being a model?”
Jenny was too tired to worry much about what Mamie wanted her to say. “It was a change, at least. But more work than I’d have figured.”
Mamie gave her that look like a customer sizing her up, except cooler and longer. “It’s about time I got some more tokens done. If that photographer thinks your looks will make him money, I’m thinking maybe I should put your picture on them. Would you like that?”
She would’ve surely liked it once, when she was feeling plain and countrified next to girls like Amanda Jane. But now, the notion of her picture being all over town on a brothel token made her feel like the whole town was staring at her.
The postcards might do the same thing. Tom might even see one. But it was too late to worry about that. The tokens might not be any worse, but she couldn’t work up a s
mile to show Mamie about it. “Whatever you think best, ma’am.”
Mamie jerked her head back a little, like she hadn’t seen that coming and didn’t much care for it. But she didn’t say any more, just turned and left Jenny be.
* * * * *
“Hey, young feller! Look what I got!”
Tom turned to see the miller holding up some kind of card. After a day of putting up with Finch, he had precious little patience left for anyone else, but he stopped and let Burgess catch up with him and wave the card in his face.
What he noticed first was all the flesh showing. This must be one of those penny postcards he’d heard tell of. Photographers got girls to pose wearing not much and then sold the cards at tobacconists and newsstands. But why did Burgess —
Hell! That was Jenny, sitting on a bed in nothing but corset and stockings and a come-hither look on her face.
Burgess saw Tom’s shocked expression and laughed. “I’ve got a couple more! You want one? I’ll give you one for free, along of you’re a special friend of hers and all.”
Tom clenched his fists. “I’ll take that.”
Burgess raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. “Which one? You ain’t even seen the others yet.”
Tom pointed to the card in his hand and glared. Burgess pulled his hand back, grinning. “Oh, no, young feller! I’m taking this one home with me tonight. To study special, if you know what I mean.”
Tom let out a cuss word he’d never said in public and grabbed for the card, almost toppling over. Burgess chuckled. “You take care, boy. Don’t want to fall on your face, do you? That red-headed gal might not think you so pretty if you’re all banged up.”
Tom took another step forward and took a swing at the miller’s grinning face. And fell down, right in the dirt, just like Burgess had said he would.
What Frees the Heart Page 12
