by S. C. Wilson
Jesse was already looking forward to her upcoming trip to Ely next year.
Chapter Thirteen
1862
Winter was one of the warmest in recent memory. Jesse ventured away from the cabin on a few pleasant days. The fresh air did wonders for her body and soul.
Having Buck around was also a welcome reprieve from the solitude. If not for him, she’d be feeling more isolated and alone than ever before. A part of each day was spent tending to her equine companion, and she found herself truly appreciating his steadfast company.
She stayed huddled inside by the fire on brutal days, sipping hot coffee and reading the book she had purchased on her trip to Ely. She wasn’t the best reader, but she was able to sound out the unfamiliar words thanks to the education Frieda had provided over the years.
The book, The Scarlet Letter, was exactly what she needed to keep her mind occupied while the snow flew outside. All alone in a world of white, the only sounds she heard were the howling winds and her crackling fire. At times, she thought she would go mad from the restraints placed on her by the unforgiving climate. Reading became an escape, if temporary, from the solitary confinement of her cabin cell.
Unfortunately, the book also triggered a great deal of anxiety. The townspeople in the story persecuted Hester for her sin. What would happen if the good people of Ely were to find out she deceived them? That she was really a woman? Would they make her stand on a scaffold in the middle of town with a capital letter on her shirt too?
The scene played out vividly in her mind, with her in the middle of the road in Ely, her shirt bearing a larger than life L, as Edith, Felix, and the waitress all shouted at her, “Liar!”
Maybe the letter F, for fake, would be more appropriate, she thought.
By the time spring came, she had read the book seven times.
Jesse’s anxiety intensified with each passing day. A plan that made perfect sense when hatched now raised all kinds of concerns. She liked the peaceful little town, and she didn’t get the sense the people were vengeful. But how could she ever go back to town as Jessica Pratt? How could she go there looking like a woman when some of the folks there knew her as a man named Jesse? She hated the deception. Frieda told her she wouldn’t have to do it forever, but what other option did she have? The masquerade had already begun. Frieda wasn’t here to ask, and she hadn’t a clue on how to right what now seemed a terrible wrong. No longer did the evil men of her childhood haunt her dreams—the good people of Ely did. Some nights she wore the letter L; others, the letter F.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the birds began to sing their songs, heralding the return of spring. Elk sprouted new antlers. The fresh smell in the air excited her anticipation for the thaw. The drip-drop of snow melting from the trees told her it wouldn’t be long before it was time to set her new traps.
Jesse had spent a lot of time over the winter compiling a list of things she wanted to buy with her profits. The first item was more coffee. She had grown quite fond of the taste and couldn’t imagine a morning without a cup. She also decided if she were going to have a horse, then a scythe would be a must. Cutting grass with a machete was hard work. A longer-handled instrument would make the chore much more bearable. Another priority was more books. Reading helped pass the hands of time during the long, lonely winters.
Jesse released her pent-up energy by making repairs to the old cabin. She repaired and cleaned everything she could, and stacked firewood along the interior walls of the lean-to. Buck still had plenty of room. The stacked wood served as a better windbreak for the building, while the roof of the small shelter protected the wood from the elements.
Her new traps did not disappoint. Soon she had amassed a nice stockpile of pelts. There would be no need to worry about money for supplies on her next trip. Not that she had to worry, anyway. There was more gold if she needed it. For her, this was a matter of pride. She wanted to prove she could make it on her own merits.
After another day of hard work, Jesse sat staring at the old wooden deer carving with the uneven legs, still the centerpiece on the table. Rubbing her thumb along the rough grain, she couldn’t help but tear up. She thought of Frieda, and the day she first divulged her scheme.
Just because Jesse pulled it off once was no guarantee she could do it again. She hated to change her appearance, but knew she had to continue the charade. She couldn’t come up with an alternative.
Keeping her eye on the moon, she knew it wouldn’t be much longer. In the morning she would have to do what she had been dreading for months. She would go to the stream and cut off the hair which had grown over the last year.
On the evening of the half moon, she spent the night tossing and turning, dreaming of scenarios that would expose her for who she really was.
She woke feeling as though she hadn’t slept a wink. Short-tempered and edgy, and with very little enthusiasm, she donned the dreaded masculine attire and loaded the supplies onto Buck. She poured one last cup of coffee, but ended up dumping most of it out on the ground. It was the last thing her already jumpy nerves needed.
Jesse had spent the lonely winter looking forward to going back to town. She kept reminding herself of the feeling as she secured the door behind her.
With Buck’s help, Jesse made it to Ely in four days. She decided to stay in town two days this trip. She had to get back across the river before she lost the brightness of the full moon. If she missed her window of opportunity to cross, then she would be stuck in Ely for weeks until the moon was bright enough to light the way again. She had no desire to stay that long, especially when she had to pretend to be someone else.
The landscape of the town had changed noticeably since her last visit. Even more new businesses had popped up in the growing town. Riding directly to the hotel, she was delighted when she saw Edith again. The woman approached her with a smile.
“I’m so glad you came back. I got something special just for you!” Edith exclaimed.
Once Buck was happily munching on a rare snack of oats in the barn, Jesse followed Edith inside the hotel.
“You can just head on to your room if you want. Same one you had last time. I’ll be right behind you.”
Edith went to her own bedroom across the hall, and then entered Jesse’s room. She handed Jesse a neatly folded outfit. “I made these just for you,” she said. “I hope I got the size right.”
Edith earned extra money by making and selling clothes at the trading post. She’d thought to provide more practical garments than her guest’s usual attire.
Jesse was at a loss for words and deeply appreciative. She hadn’t had any new clothes in several years.
“Try ‘em on and then come out and let me see how they look on ya,” Edith said as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Jesse undressed and put on the pressed shirt and trousers. She opened the door to find Edith standing sentry outside.
“You look like a new man. I have to say the fit is damn near perfect! I have something else that might fit you,” Edith said before disappearing again. She returned with a nice-looking pair of black leather boots.
“These used to belong to Isaac. I have no use for them and all they do is collect dust. You might as well get some use out of them. Might be a little larger than what you’re used to, but take these, too.” She handed Jesse a thick pair of wool socks.
Jesse had never tried on boots like these before, but she could remember her father and brothers wearing something similar. She had only worn tall moccasins for years. Standing in the hallway, Jesse slid into one sock and then the other, and then into the polished boots. The extra bulk from the socks made the boots fit perfectly.
“Thank you, ma’am—Edith. Thank you for everything!” Jesse’s voice rose higher than intended. “I have something for you, too.” Jesse pulled a tin container from the saddlebag in her room. “I made this for you. Whenever that shoulder gets to bothering you, just rub some on. It should help.”
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br /> “I can’t believe you remembered about my shoulder. I can definitely use this.” Edith hugged a somewhat-reluctant Jesse. “Thank you, Jesse. And you are more than welcome, young man. You’re going to have the young ladies of this town smitten in no time.”
The comment amused Jesse. As if that would ever happen.
They headed into the kitchen where there was a loaf of bread cooling on the table. As they ate, Jesse filled Edith in on some of the things she had done since the last time they saw each other. She kept secret it all had taken place on Mount Perish. Once her stomach was full, Jesse thanked Edith again for the outfit and food, and then politely excused herself to get some sleep.
Jesse woke in the dark, the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in around the edges of the curtain. She got up and went to the window. Her body was stiff from the journey, and also from sleeping on her back. She’d been trying not to wrinkle her clothes. Staying dressed seemed safe. The night sky was full of clouds. Jesse hoped when it came time to return up the mountain, the weather would be more congenial. Even though a light rain was falling, Ely bustled with activity.
Jesse freshened up a little and strapped on her pistol. She reached for the door handle and stopped. A man was whispering out in the hall. She slowly cracked the door about half an inch to take a peek. She’d recognize that mustache anywhere—Felix. Jesse had no idea what he had whispered, but Edith must have found it amusing. Edith giggled softly and placed her hand over Felix’s mouth to keep him quiet. Jesse watched as he grabbed Edith by the waist and teasingly guided her backward into her bedroom across the hall. He closed the door behind him with his foot. Neither had noticed Jesse’s door was ajar.
Jesse quietly closed her door and waited. Understanding played across Jesse’s face. She wasn’t the only one with a secret. Even with her inexperienced eyes, it was obvious to her they were quite fond of each other, acting like two silly kids in love.
When she felt the coast was clear, she walked softly out to the barn to check on Buck. She spoke to him as if he could understand the words. After a few parting rubs, she was off to check out the source of the boisterous sounds.
Closer to the saloon, Jesse could hear women singing. She couldn’t resist having a look. She walked in The Foxtail, took a seat at the bar, and ordered a shot of whiskey.
She had never tasted alcohol, but understood how it worked—in theory. She took the drink in one swift gulp, trying to calm her nerves. Fire burned from her throat to her gut and she wasn’t sure how she managed not to cough up a lung. Somehow she regained her composure. Once her eyes quit watering, she willed herself to breathe normally. The warm sensation radiated outward, tingling in her cheeks. Feeling a little calmer already, Jesse ordered another. She left the second drink untouched and swiveled in her seat to look around.
Several saloon girls flitted about in brightly colored skirts, with petticoats peeking out beneath the short ruffles. Not at all shy about their bodies, the ladies had no problem shamelessly revealing their arms, shoulders, and legs. Their breasts protruded from their low-cut bodices. Lace, silk, and even net stockings were held up with garter belts. Makeup caked their faces and it was obvious, even to Jesse, their hair was not the color they were born with.
Jesse was appalled the women could so easily drape themselves all over the men. Many of the patrons were dirty and unkempt and reminded her of the man who had lain on her sister in the barn all those years ago. The recollection was so startling nausea and dizziness flooded her body briefly, though part of the feeling could have been from the whiskey. Jesse thought perhaps she should stick to coffee.
She felt bad for the women and wondered what could have happened to make them desperate enough to resort to such a lifestyle. She didn’t care how poor she was, she would rather starve to death. One of the painted ladies made her way to Jesse and took a seat next to her.
“How’s about buying a thirsty girl a drink?” she asked.
Not wanting to be rude, Jesse motioned for the bartender to bring the woman a shot. The woman tried to start up a conversation, but the words fell on deaf ears. Jesse, completely caught up in the activity around her, could barely pay attention to the attempted conversation. Realizing a better customer awaited elsewhere, the woman moved on to find her next target.
It was standing room only in the smoke-filled saloon. A gentleman, already intoxicated, quickly snatched the newly vacated seat. He wasted no time and ordered a shot. He tilted his head and aimed at the spittoon near his feet. He missed.
What an ass. “Hey mister, next time watch what you’re doing,” Jesse said, pointing at the thick glob of tobacco juice dripping from her boot.
“Actually…looks like,” he said and then hiccupped, “my aim wasn’t too bad. Consider it a free s-s-shine,” he said, his words slurred. The drunk picked up his shot of whiskey, gulped it in one swallow, and slammed the glass upturned on the bar. He motioned for a refill before turning to face Jesse. “And if I wanted to be nagged at, I’d be at home with the wife. Now, don’t bother me, boy.”
Jesse could feel her blood starting to heat, but she remained silent. Calm down. Ignore him. He’s drunk. She turned her attention back to the wall behind the bar. Behind the bottles was a long mirror. Jesse sat staring, transfixed by her own reflection. Her appearance stunned her, and she did not recognize herself.
The dancing girls on stage finished their routine, and the stage went dark. A single bright light shone on a central platform as the piano started playing again. The most beautiful woman Jesse had ever seen took the stage. She wore a flowing, crimson dress, arms and shoulders bare, which exposed a hint of cleavage. Her presence on the stage was resplendent and of a different caliber altogether than the tawdry girls who had preceded her. Her dress had a slit that traveled all the way up to the top of her thigh, revealing a well-formed leg covered in a silk stocking and garter of the finest lace. Her flaxen hair was piled loosely on top of her head and fixed in place with a jeweled pin. Her full lips and alabaster complexion required little makeup. She used just enough to enhance her natural beauty.
It was obvious from the cheers this woman was a crowd favorite. Men lost interest in their cards, their gazes drawn to the source of the voice that had quietly started to sing. The resonating timbre of her voice flooded the room as she sang. Her voice gained power with each note as she stepped down and moved slowly past the tables, lightly brushing her hand across the backs of the card-playing men seated next to the stage. She had a powerful effect on them, earning fidgets from even the most stern-faced among them.
The woman had an effect on Jesse as well. Jesse turned back to the mirror, suddenly insecure about her appearance. It had been years since she had looked like the girl from her past: pretty dress, long hair, and soft hands. She missed it and she couldn’t help but fantasize about how she would look if she were all dolled up. Would I look that pretty?
The entertainer finished her song and took a final bow to a deafening explosion of cheers. The singer made her way toward the bar, thanking men along the way. Jesse stiffened as the soloist leaned in between her and the drunk to her left.
“Has Boone been in yet?” the woman asked the bartender.
“Not yet.”
“Can you tell him I want to see him when he comes in?”
“Sure thing, Abby.”
“You gotta light?” Abby asked Jesse as she glanced at her fancy filtered cigarette.
The drunken man rubbed against Abby. “I’s-s-s got a light for ya,” he said, slurring his words once more as he reached for Abby’s breast.
Jesse grabbed his wrist, and twisted it in an odd angle, causing him to wince. She raised her voice. “Get your—”
The man lunged, shoving Abby backwards in the scuffle as he and Jesse crashed to the floor. He straddled Jesse and swung his fist. She saw the blow coming, barely turning her head in time. His knuckles glanced the side of her jaw. She balled her hand into a tight fist, and punched him right below the ribs, once, swiftly. The
hard jab caused the man to lean to the side and Jesse rolled out from under him. She put him in a chokehold.
“All right, fellas. Knock it off,” a man shouted.
Jesse looked up and saw the pistol pointing at them. She released the drunkard.
The man wielding the gun was employed by the saloon to keep the peace. “That’s enough you two. Let’s go,” he said using the barrel of his gun to point toward the door.
“Not him,” Abby said pointing to Jesse. “He didn’t start it.” She picked Jesse’s hat up off the floor.
“All right, come on you.” The hired gun took the lout by the collar and tossed him out the door.
“The name is Abigail, Abigail Flanagan, but folks call me Abby,” she said as she handed Jesse her hat.
Jesse put it on. She tipped her long-brimmed hat and said, “Thank you. Jesse McGinnis, and I’m sorry about all that. But he was a jackass. His poor wife. Can you imagine that coming home to you?”
Actually I can. The thought crossed her mind before she continued. “No reason to be sorry. I appreciate what you did,” Abby said, extending her hand to Jesse.
Feeling the softness of Abby’s hand, Jesse retracted her own. Her rough, calloused skin embarrassed her. She had no idea Abby was attracted to the strength and toughness she felt, a man who knew how to use his hands. By the look and feel of Jesse’s, she could tell they were used to hard work.
Abby couldn’t help but become a little aroused by Jesse’s chivalrous gesture. She motioned to the barkeep, signaling for a round. “This one's on me, Jesse McGinnis,” Abby said as she straightened Jesse’s collar.
Jesse watched as Abby took her drink from the bartender. Moving with an unusual ease, she managed to make a task as simple as lifting a glass seem graceful. Abby, glass held high said, “Nice to meet you.”
