by Marie Piper
“How did you know about—?”
“Now don’t go pretending the two of you aren’t squabbling about something. Lovers have quarrels. If you don’t, it means you don’t care enough. You should have heard your folks when they got going.” Doc nodded toward the door of the clinic. “Go.”
As always, he knew everything that was happening in Cricket Bend, even the things she kept close to her heart. Haven could have kissed him, but quickly went in the direction of the saloon instead.
It only took a minute to get there. Glancing around like she was breaking the law, even though she was carrying a basket of medicinal items, Haven darted through the doors.
The main room was empty. Even Ben the bartender wasn’t there yet.
“Hello?” Haven’s shaky voice echoed through the empty room. She stepped farther in. No one answered. Of course they didn’t answer. Likely the roaring debauchery had continued late into the night, and those who remained were sleeping it off. She wondered how Hank had spent his night. Maybe he’d done some drinking and played cards until the early hours of the morning, or maybe he’d sought the warmth of Callie’s bed. Maybe there were other women in Cricket Bend whose hearts he’d set tingling, whose beds he frequented. Thinking she was the lone woman in town who’d caught his attention was nonsense, as was the idea that she been at all important to him.
Regardless, Hank had probably had a better night than she did. She’d slept little, crying softly into her pillow, cursing Matthew Frank’s name and her feelings toward him. She’d taken her pink dress off in a huff and gone to bed in her underthings, thinking all sorts of terrible thoughts she knew she’d have to atone for in church on Sunday.
Callie’s balcony overlooked the main street, and Haven assumed she could figure out which room to look for based on that, so she headed up the steps in search of her patient.
The upstairs hallway had several doors. Haven knew there were rooms available for rent up there, and that Hank and Callie would both have rooms as well. She discerned which door would most likely be Callie’s, and knocked quietly.
“Callie? It’s Nurse Uppity. Doc sent me to see to you.”
A groggy voice responded, “Come in. It’s open.”
Stepping inside Callie’s bedroom was something Haven had never imagined she would do. What she saw reminded her of a fairy kingdom, or the boudoir of a princess. The small room exuded femininity, and Haven thought it was beautiful. Delicate lace curtains hung over the windows, a dressing table covered with bottles and lotions sat in one corner with a bouquet of fresh flowers on display, and the bedcover of the four-poster bed was pink satin with delicate stitching. A large wooden wardrobe took up one corner, the doors of which were open just enough for her to see it was stuffed full of clothes in a wild variety of colors.
Callie laughed softly. Haven’s occasional nemesis sat up in her bed as she watched the younger woman take in the scene. “Welcome to my place of business. Sorry it’s a dang mess right now.”
All the lip rouge and eye makeup were gone from her face, and in the morning light Callie Lee appeared a plain and regular woman, but her left eye was bruised and a little swollen. All Haven’s nursing instincts kicked in, and she put the basket Doc had sent on the bed. She began to take a salve, some tea, clean cloths, and other items from it. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but I’ll live.”
Haven touched Callie's face gently near the blackened eye. “Does that hurt?”
“A little.”
“What on Earth happened?”
Callie groaned. “Those damn McKenzie boys. The man who wrestled with me was mad because his brothers were in jail. I guess they thought they’d get drunk, spend some time with me, and then go break out their brothers. Good thing they chose to get drunk first.”
It didn’t make sense to Haven why a man would pay for a woman, then turn violent on her. “Why’d he hit you?”
Callie spoke in simple terms, as if Haven was too young to understand. “He wanted to partake in some activities I do not enjoy. I told him no, and he didn’t appreciate that. Believe it or not, there are things even I won’t allow.”
Mind racing, Haven couldn’t even fathom what those things might be. She kept her eyes on the salve she was warming in her hands to apply to Callie’s cheek, hoping her naïveté wasn’t obvious. She reached forward and gently rubbed some of the thick paste onto the swollen area around Callie’s eye.
“What is it with you and those dresses?” Callie asked, her fingers going to the high neck of Haven’s blue dress. “Why dress like an old schoolmarm? It’s not like you’re ugly.”
“Thank you, but I dress the same as all the other ladies in town.”
“Ladies! Good Lord, you know what I mean. I’ve seen the way men look at you, and it’s no different from the way they look at me. It’s just covered in a coating of politeness that’s a sham. They’d do the same things to either of us if they got us alone in the dark, trust me.”
“If you’re trying to shock me, it won’t work,” Haven replied, though she was shaken to her core. No one spoke about the things men and women did in the dark other than Callie, and Haven desperately wanted to ask a million questions.
Callie raised an eyebrow. “Have you and the deputy done anything yet? He’s good looking, I’ll give you that. I can see the appeal. Sometimes the polite and quiet ones are the most feisty.”
“Matthew is a fine man.” Haven fumed at Callie, eyes burning with fury and embarrassment. She didn’t care much for the idea of Callie noticing that Matthew was handsome. She preferred Callie didn't notice him at all.
“Of course he’s a fine man. He’ll make a fine husband, I’m sure. Probably won’t even beat you. But a woman should not get married before she knows a few things about this world. You need to get drunk, you need to play poker, and you need to kiss a man who knows how to curl your toes. Pardon my saying so, but I’m pretty sure you ain’t gonna get any of that from a fine upstanding man like Deputy Matthew Frank. If you want to know what I think—”
“Not really.”
“—you should do yourself a favor and take a lover.”
Haven had finished rubbing the salve onto the bruise and stood up quickly.
“I know just the man too.”
“Please enlighten me,” Haven replied with exasperation as she wiped her hands on a clean cloth.
“Jack Braxton. Turns out he’s downright good looking underneath it all. I saw him last night, all spiffed up and shaved. I swear, a man like that could have had me right there on the bar. And I wasn’t even working!”
Haven almost snorted at the suggestion. “He’s rude. And besides, he’s helping my father.”
“I bet he could help you too,” Callie retorted with an evil smile. “You could have a whole lot more fun if you’d just unbutton a little.”
Haven shook her head adamantly. “This is an absurd discussion. I am not taking Jack Braxton as a lover, nor will I be taking anyone else. Now, if you’re done running your big mouth, I am going to walk out of here and forget we had this conversation. I’ll tell Doc you’re doing fine and send him to check on you next time.”
“Jeepers, you’re a stuffy one.” Callie laughed at the huffy expression on Haven’s face. “Lock the door and take off your dress.”
“Excuse me?”
Callie got out of bed and walked to her closet. While Haven’s wardrobe consisted largely of cotton and tweed dresses, many of which were sturdily made to withstand the hard work, rough weather, and terrain of the plains, Callie’s cabinet burst with delicate satins, fragile lace, and colors so vibrant they shone like gemstones. As she opened the doors, ruby red, sapphire blue, deep emerald green, royal purple, and petal pink garments burst forth as if they longed for freedom. Haven was dazzled.
“You’ll never catch any man in a dowdy dress like that.”
“I am not trying to catch anyone.”
“Take off that horrid garment right now. Boots too. I ain’t go
nna bite you.”
Why she obeyed, Haven didn’t know. Yet her fingers went to the buttons on her dress, and she began to unfasten each one and undress as Callie rifled through her closet and pulled out some dresses while she brushed others aside. With Callie’s back to her, Haven gulped and dropped her dress to the floor, leaving her standing in the middle of the older woman's room in only her corset and crinolines.
Callie gabbed on as she searched, and Haven kicked off her boots. “When your precious Matthew kisses you, does it take your breath away? Does his touch make your lady parts tingle?”
“Uh-um,” Haven stammered as she tried to find an answer. “He doesn’t.”
Callie looked at her like she’d said she’d seen pigs fly. “He doesn’t what?”
“Anything.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” Even as Haven said it, she wondered what in the world was making her confess her secret to a woman most of the town viewed as a blight on the good name of Cricket Bend.
“Mercy, girl, you need more help than I thought.” Callie turned completely around and set her eyes on Haven like she was a blank canvas in need of paint. Suddenly embarrassed, Haven folded her arms across her chest in a futile attempt to cover herself. “No need for shyness. I was right. Under all those dowdy layers, you’ve got a good figure. You’ve got real nice bosoms. Men like those.”
Haven felt like she was going to be sick, she was so nervous. Callie must have seen her fear, because a little of her bluster went away as she next spoke. “You do know what to do with a man, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
Callie clearly didn’t buy it. “On second thought, it might be best to let him lead you. Men all have different things they like. Just go with whatever he does. But make sure you like it too. They never tell you good girls that you’re supposed to like making love. Do you like this one?”
The red dress she held up was magnificent, and Haven’s eyes glistened. In all her fantasies about being a brazen, scarlet woman, the dress with delicate straps and high-cut skirt she’d imagined herself wearing was almost exactly the dress Callie held in her hand.
“I don’t have the right underthings for that.”
Callie tossed the dress to her. “Who said you need underthings?”
Haven took a deep breath as she ran a finger over the red fabric. She couldn’t think of anyone else she could ask about the things which troubled her, and Callie certainly seemed open to talking about such matters. “What did you mean about men liking different things?”
Callie shushed her. Haven was suddenly grateful for the wanton woman’s existence and honesty. “Different men like to do it different ways. Some want you to be quiet as a church mouse, some like it when you holler loud enough to be heard two counties away. Some like girls with long legs, and some like big bosoms. Blonde, brunette. Tall, short. Skinny, plump. Every man is different, but no man ever will turn away from a pretty woman who wants them. I guarantee you Mr. Braxton wouldn’t.”
“Would you let it die about him?” Haven exclaimed, aghast. “Jeepers!”
At her exclamation, both women stopped for a moment. Haven’s hand went to her mouth in surprise. Smiles leapt to both their faces, and Haven couldn’t help but laugh. Laughing with Callie Lee was another thing Haven had never expected to do, but it didn’t feel sinful or wrong at all.
“Life is for living. And no matter what people whisper about, loving is a real big part of that. If your fine young deputy doesn’t want to be a part of that, there ain’t no one says he has to. After all, he ain’t the only man in the world.” Callie put a hand on Haven’s for a moment as she leaned in. “Now, you want to try the blue or the white first?”
Haven spent longer than she should have in Callie’s room, trying on dresses that would have gotten her banished from town forever, and soaking up everything Callie had to say about sex. There were things that made her gasp and things she didn’t even quite understand fully, but she listened to it all as she changed from dress to dress. She tried on a blue poofy dress that she could barely turn around in without knocking something over, and a slinky white gown she’d felt practically naked in. Haven didn’t try on the red dress because it seemed too forbidden a fruit.
When she realized she’d been gone a long time, she bid Callie farewell and left the upstairs girl with some tea and an order to go back to sleep and let the salve soak in.
Outside Callie’s room, Haven leaned against the door for a moment.
She felt different, as if a fundamental truth had been confirmed. She was a woman, and there were feelings inside her—primal ones she couldn’t deny.
For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman.
Callie’s words stuck with her, and she heard them over and over in her head. Life is for living, after all. And loving is a big part of that.
Straightening herself up, she headed back to work. Lost in thought, with her whole body tingling, she was halfway down the stairs before she heard a voice and realized she was no longer alone in the saloon.
“I thought I told you to stay in bed today.”
Hank stood behind the bar surrounded by crates of bottles and taking notes on paper. Haven hadn’t even figured he’d be awake yet, but he was hard at work. He didn’t look at her for a moment, and she stopped and watched him.
Oh, he was handsome. She noted the confident way he moved and figured right then and there that if she was ever to take a lover, which she most likely would never do, Hank Porter would be at the very top of her list. After all, no one made her feel as tingly as he did. Well, no one except Matthew, but that clearly wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
A smile spread across Hank’s face when he looked up from the bottles and saw her. “Well, well, well. Emerging from the upstairs bedrooms of the saloon early in the morning. Miss Anderson, for shame. What will people say?”
“Oh shush. I came to check on Callie. Doc sent me.” She added the last part as if she needed to justify her presence, although he was probably the only person in Cricket Bend who wouldn’t find it strange that she was there. “Her bruise will take a couple of weeks to fade, but she’ll be all right. While I’m here, I should probably take a look at your arm, unless you’re too busy.”
“I welcome any excuse to take a break from inventory.” He came around the bar, holding out his arm with an already rolled-up sleeve.
Haven pulled back the bandage and prodded at his wound a little. As she touched him, she tried hard not to notice how hot his skin felt. She bet he’d be the right kind of man to keep a woman warm on a cold night. “It’s healing well. I can take the stitches out tomorrow, most likely. Well, Doc can. You’ll need to come over to the clinic.”
Visions of what the townsfolk would say if they knew that she and Hank Porter were completely alone together, in the saloon of all places, raced through her mind. She could just imagine Laura Harper gasping and cackling like a banshee at the news. It’d probably be on the front page of the newspaper in mere hours.
Hank read her manner. “My dear, are you supposed to be here?”
“Not really,” she replied with an honesty that surprised even her. “Doc sent me, but Papa—”
There was no need to finish her statement, and she looked up to see his irresistibly devilish grin. “And yet here you are, breaking the rules. I’m impressed, Miss Anderson. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Haven smiled a bit. “I didn’t either. You were right, by the way. This is likely to be my last time coming here. Matthew doesn’t want me to work. I can’t fight both him and my father.”
Somehow Hank had taken her hand in both of his and held it gently. “In that case, would you care to break one last rule, and indulge in that drink I offered?”
“You know I don’t drink.” The feeling of his skin on hers made the argument seem silly and childish. If he’d asked her to jump off the roof, she’d have agreed.
“This seems as good a time as any to start
.” He reached over the bar and grabbed two shot glasses, then poured two drinks and slid one to her in a showy move.
Haven held the glass in her hand and saw the sunlight come through the amber liquid. “I’ve never even tasted whiskey.”
Hank indicated the empty saloon. “There is no one here to see but us. And I will take the secret of your wickedness to my grave.”
Feeling defiant, Haven slammed down the shot of whiskey like she’d seen Hill do any number of times. Hank laughed at her boldness as she felt the bitter burn of the drink sailing down her throat. Like she’d also seen, she banged her glass on the bar. “It tastes vile,” she said as she coughed.
“The taste isn’t the point,” Hank replied with a chuckle.
“It better not be.” Haven could still taste the awful flavor in her mouth. “I can’t believe men drink this on purpose.”
Hank downed his own drink. “Enough whiskey, and people feel free to be their true selves. After enough whiskey, even a liar turns honest. Secrets become known. People…unbutton, if you will.”
The way he looked at her took her breath away. She handed her glass back to him. “Then I’ll have one more, I suppose.” Quickly, she downed the second shot, pleased to find it burned slightly less than the first.
“This little rebellion of yours,” he said, “it suits you.”
Haven didn’t know what he meant. He nodded toward her dress, and she looked down to see the top three buttons of her dress were undone. After all the changing of gowns in Callie’s room, she’d thrown her dress back on in haste and had figured she’d be home before she encountered anyone who cared. No skin of consequence showed, but Hank clearly liked the hint of what lay under her dress.
She moved to button up, but he stopped her by taking her hand again. Looking at their joined fingers, she spoke bluntly. “My father would kill me if he knew I was here. And you. He’d probably kill you first.”
