Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

  On day three, no one showed up at all, and the reality that this might just not work out was slowly eating at her confidence. As she sat in the kitchen after school ended at three o’clock, making a snack for Terrance, she was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to send to one of the bigger towns, San Antonio or such, to find someone who would care for the house. If she had to do that it was going to set her back another month or even two, and she really couldn’t afford that. The passes closed in the winter.

  The knock at the door was loud. Before she could get out of her chair, it came again hard and fast. Someone wanted in. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and her stomach dropped.

  “Stay here,” she told Terrance. He looked at her, his hand on Lancelot in his lap, and nodded. She eyed the gun Ace had left her by the back door. Guns made her nervous.

  Maybe it was Brian.

  Grabbing the gun, she shook her head. If it were Brian Winter, he wouldn’t knock. He’d burst in all righteous indignation and with the aggression of a drunken boor. She set the gun back against the wall. Straightening her skirts and smoothing her hair, she walked sedately through the house. Terrance didn’t need to live in any more fear than necessary. Peeking out the stained-glass side windows she could just make out the distorted yet unmistakable shape of a skirt. Her visitor was a woman. She opened the front door.

  The sight that greeted her was just as brash as the knock. A garishly blowsy woman stood there clutching the hands of two children. The boy was around Terrance’s age, his hair slicked back from his hostile face. Water still dripped from his hair, dampening the shoulders of his freshly ironed, well-worn shirt. At some point it had probably been blue but now was kind of a washed-out gray. His pants hung loose on him, but were still too short.

  The little girl was maybe a couple years younger. Her blond hair was pulled back tight and clearly ringlets had been forced into what was normally straight hair. Both children were well scrubbed. Both looked as scared as all get-out.

  Petunia looked up from the children to take in the woman with them. She was a sight to behold. It was hard to tell her age; there was so much powder on her face. Her blue eyes were heavily lined in black kohl. Her hair was swept up into a messy arrangement, and her generous breasts all but spilled out of her loose top.

  That might have been shame that flashed across her face as Pet asked, “May I help you?” but if it was, it was gone so fast it left no lingering impression. Before she could double-check, the woman’s expression became just as brash as the knock and the outfit.

  “I’m right sorry I didn’t have time to dress proper for this.” She pushed the children in the door. Before Petunia could protest, she followed behind them, a cloud of perfume swirling along. Petunia choked and waved her hand in front of her face.

  Hustling the children into the adjoining parlor, the woman explained as calmly as if she were making sense, “I need my last payment, and if I don’t show up tonight I won’t get it, and there won’t be time after we get settled in here for me to change.” With a wave of her hand she indicated her outfit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where she worked. “So this will just have to do.”

  As explanations went, it didn’t cover much. “Do?”

  The woman motioned the children into a chair. “Sit,” she ordered, before turning back to face her. “My name’s Hester.”

  “Hester?” Pet knew she sounded like a parrot, but she just couldn’t quite figure out what a soiled dove from the saloon was doing in her living room with two children in tow. She looked on the porch. There weren’t any suitcases. “Were you looking to place your children here?”

  The woman snapped straight so fast her hair crackled, and dust from the starch floated in the sunbeams. “If I haven’t abandoned my children before this, I’d not be starting now, just when things are going my way.”

  She said that as if that made sense. Petunia took a deep breath, counted to five and slowly released it. “I’m sorry. Could you tell me, please, what you are doing here?”

  Hester reached into her bodice and pulled out a piece of paper. As she unfolded it, Petunia recognized her flyer. The one that she’d put up at the store.

  “I came for the job.”

  Oh, dear. Petunia almost said that out loud, but caught herself. She closed the door quietly and joined them in the parlor. “I don’t think you understand the position.”

  “You’re looking for somebody that can watch after children.”

  “Yes”

  “Well, I’m a mother of two, and I was the oldest of twelve growing up. One thing I know is children.”

  “Yes, but the other requirements of the position are somebody who’s—” how did she put this delicately? “—got the background that will inspire confidence in the good citizens funding this home.”

  “You mean someone who’s not a whore.”

  Well, that was one way to do it. “To be indelicate, yes.”

  Hester snorted. “Well, I wasn’t always a whore. There was a time back when I had these two, when I was a wife and mother and as respectable as you can get.”

  Looking at her now, Petunia found that hard to believe.

  “But then their pa ran off to find gold and stopped sending money back,” Hester continued.

  “I see.” It was a common enough story.

  “I followed him out here hoping to catch up with him, but turns out he’d done divorced me.”

  “How can he divorce you without your permission?”

  “That’s what I asked. Apparently, it doesn’t take much. A lie here. Some gold dust there...” She shrugged.

  Pet felt a stirring of sympathy.

  “And he married up with some pretty little thing, got a second family and isn’t at all interested in this one anymore.”

  Petunia glanced at the children, and that stirring of sympathy deepened. There was something vaguely familiar about both. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on...

  “So I took my maiden name back, Mansfield, and did what I had to do to feed my kids.”

  It was another common story. There were questions in regard to recourse Petunia would have asked anyone else, but Hester struck her as a woman who would have exhausted all avenues.

  “I’ve been a whore going on three years. I was a respectable woman for thirty before that, and I aim to go back to it.”

  “I see.” She didn’t know what else to say. And since Hester’s feet were firmly planted, she didn’t see any other option other than to conduct an interview. Smoothing her skirts, she sat on the faded wingback chair near the archway. “Well, what are your qualifications?”

  Hester looked around the shabby, dusty interior. “Number one, I’m a heck of a lot better housekeeper than this.”

  Petunia had an immediate urge to pick up a rag and dust. As if reading her mind, Hester started straightening the pile of papers in the corner.

  “The house requires work,” Petunia admitted.

  “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  No, Hester didn’t look like she was. She wasn’t a particularly tall woman or a particularly broad woman. There was just something very...solid about her. Something more substantial than her bountiful bosom, and if she’d had any other background than the one she had, Petunia might have pursued the application further, but she was having a hard enough time getting the good people of this community to crack their wallets open to take care of the less fortunate. The squawk that would arise if she put Hester in charge... She shook her head. All the sweet talk in the world wouldn’t squash that.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just not possible.”

  Hester looked up. “Anything’s possible.” Dropping the advertisement neatly onto the table, she folded her arms across her chest. “I understand you got stranded here yourself.”

  “I did
.”

  “And by the grace of God, you were able to get a teaching position.”

  “Yes.”

  “And if you hadn’t been able to, what would you have done?”

  She didn’t want to say, Telegraphed my father, so she settled for, “I’m not sure.”

  “I can tell you right now what you would have done. Whatever it took, ’cause that’s the only option women have. I found that married or not, that’s just how it is.”

  The logic played right into the reality of a woman’s plight Petunia wanted to change.

  “If it were up to me, I might consider giving you a try, but my first responsibility has got to be toward these children and to making sure they have a roof over their heads.”

  “Rumor is the only child you have right now is Terrance Winter.”

  “Yes, he is staying here.” Hearing his name, Terrance appeared in the doorway holding Lancelot.

  “Well, this here is my son, Phillip, and my daughter, Brenda. They’re good kids. I keep up with their schooling in the mornings before I go to bed. They know their manners.”

  Their manners were evident from the way they sat, quietly and respectful.

  “We don’t have much right now, but we know right from wrong.”

  Petunia sighed. Hester wasn’t going to make this easy. “If you know right from wrong, then you know how small this community is.”

  Hester nodded and more starch drifted free. Caught in the late-day sun that drifted in the room. “Not to mention small-minded.”

  How could she argue with that? “Terrance, would you please take Brenda and Phillip into the kitchen and give them some cookies and milk?”

  Terrance nodded. Brenda went eagerly, fascinated by Lancelot. Phillip went with a bit more drag in his step.

  “Make them welcome, Terrance,” she added.

  Terrance nodded. Hester jerked her chin at Phillip when he paused in the doorway. “Go on now.”

  As soon as they were in the kitchen, Hester rubbed her hands together. It was the first sign of nervousness Petunia had seen her display. “I appreciate you having the rest of this talk in private. Living as we do, there’s no way they can’t know how things are.”

  It was Petunia’s turn to sigh. “I wish I could help you. I truly do.”

  Hester set her hands on her hips. Her breasts bounced, and for a moment Petunia worried they’d spill free.

  “If you’re worried about certain people, prominent people, in this community squawking, I guarantee you they won’t.”

  Interesting. “What makes you think they won’t?”

  “Because I’ll make sure of it.”

  That was a useful talent to have. “You can do that?”

  “I have one or two pieces of leverage.”

  The look she gave the door was significant, and that sense of familiarity about the children nagged at Petunia again. “Why do your children look familiar?”

  Hester didn’t even hesitate. “You’ve probably met their father.”

  “Who’s their father?”

  “Dougall MacFarlane.”

  Petunia couldn’t suppress a gasp. “The mayor?”

  “Yeah, the town’s big man. As you can imagine, we were quite the embarrassment showing up here. He’d prefer you’d run us out of Simple on a rail rather than give me this job.”

  “So why don’t you go?”

  “Well, when I had the money, I kept thinking he’d come around. You know, at least take care of his kids but that new wife of his, she didn’t want any part of it. Then I ran out of money, and he told me since I didn’t go when he gave me the money the first time, he wouldn’t help again, and he’d make life difficult for me.” She made to smooth her hair and then obviously remembered its starched state. Her hand dropped to her side. “He’s keeping his word,” she added ruefully.

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  Hester shrugged in that way of hers. “Nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. His parents don’t live in that town, and where we come from it’s so small there’s no jobs to be had, no money to be had. But I thought if we were here. Well...” She shrugged and shook her head. “Well, I thought he’d take care of his kids at least.”

  “And you can’t make him?”

  “There are no laws saying he has to.”

  “So he just pretends you don’t exist?”

  She nodded. “Apparently, his plan when he came out West was to get rich and get rid of the past, all of it.”

  “And he can’t.”

  “No, but he won’t take this job from me. I’ll make sure of that. I don’t have much,” she said, “but this new wife being pregnant and him looking to be cozying up to the governor for that seat he wants to have up there in the capitol give me advantage. He can’t afford right now the noise I could make revealing who I am.”

  “So why don’t you make enough noise so he gives you the money?”

  “Two reasons. One, he might have me killed. He’s that ambitious, and two, my kids deserve to know what it feels like to be respectable. I don’t want him, but I want respectable back. This job is the new start I’ve been looking for.”

  The woman had thought of everything. Petunia couldn’t help but admire that practicality mixed with determination and purpose.

  She came to a decision. “If you can get MacFarlane to support you, then I’ll give you a try.”

  Because the reality was, she didn’t have much of a choice, either.

  Hester’s smile thinned. “He’ll give it.”

  Petunia was beginning to believe it. There was something about Hester that just made you believe whatever she said would happen, would. And with the kind of leverage—all right, blackmail—Hester could bring to bear, Petunia might be able to get a bit more support for her cause.

  Hester looked to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “The children can stay here tonight if you’d like.”

  “You got room?”

  “I’ve got room. No real beds yet, but room I have.”

  Hester nodded. “They can make do on pallets. They’re better off here than over there.”

  Petunia couldn’t argue with that. “Have they eaten supper?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Is there anything in particular they like?”

  “They’ll eat whatever’s put in front of them. They’re not picky. They’re good children.”

  With Hester as a mother, Petunia just bet they were. Maybe a bit resentful, maybe a little wild, maybe a little angry because of their father, but they were obedient, and she didn’t think they went against Hester often.

  “I’ll be back when my shift is over.”

  “And what time is that?”

  “About two.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to keep them until morning?”

  Hester shook her head. “Phillip will fret if he doesn’t see me at two.” With a resigned shrug that said more than words, she explained, “He’s protective of me since his dad left.”

  Petunia just bet. “He sounds like a good boy.”

  “He is, just growing up too fast.”

  Walking over to a small dish by the front door, Petunia grabbed the spare key. Turning, she held it out.

  “I’ll see you at two, then.”

  “I’ve got the job?”

  Petunia nodded. It was probably the best and worst decision she’d ever made, but this seemed the week for such things.

  Hester smiled so big, her makeup cracked. “You won’t regret it.”

  “I’m not planning on it.”

  * * *

  IT WASN’T A key in the lock that woke Petunia. It was the raspy squeal of the downstairs kitchen window being opened. Petuni
a froze beneath the blankets, her breath caught in her lungs. Someone was breaking into the house. Sliding out of bed, she reached for the shotgun. It wasn’t by the bed. With all the chaos of the extra children in the house and refereeing the inevitable disagreements, she’d forgotten it in the kitchen. Darn it.

  There was nothing to do but go downstairs. Thank goodness her door was at the top of the stairs, well between the children and any threat. Opening her door slowly, very slowly so as not to have it squeak a warning to whomever was coming inside, she tiptoed into the hall. At the top of the stairs, she felt eyes upon her. Her heart leaped into her throat, but it was Phillip and Terrance at the door to their room. She put her finger to her lips and waved them back inside. They moved as one, exactly a half inch toward the inside of the door. She pointed again and then made a motion like closing the door.

  She didn’t know who was breaking in; hopefully, it was just a cowboy looking for some food. But if it was anything more serious, she wanted as many locked doors as possible between the threat and the children. They reluctantly obeyed.

  At the top of the stairs was a small cast-iron lamp. She picked it up. As weapons went it wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. And the heft gave her a bit of confidence. She looked back. The doors were closed. No more excuses.

  Her breath sounded harsh to her ears as she eased her way down the stairs, treading carefully, trying to remember which stair it was that had the creak. Fourth from the bottom, she finally remembered, which wasn’t much help because she was so panicked she couldn’t remember where she was on the stairs. She didn’t even know what time it was. All she knew was it was dark and from the heaviness of the air against her skin, it felt like morning.