by Deeanne Gist
Placing a hand at her back, he ignored the pique in her voice and moved a bit closer. Hopefully Joey would keep her from catching sight of the scantily dressed woman on an upper windowsill blowing Hunter kisses and giving him come-hither motions with her fingers. He’d not realized the tumbledown shed was a brothel or he would have turned right instead of left when they’d reached the street. The only thing to do now was brazen it out.
“It wasn’t as if I was asking for an introduction,” Billy continued. “I merely wanted to see the princess, is all. But he didn’t allow me to put so much as my big toe into the room.”
Hunter didn’t bother to make excuses. He’d had a job to do and that was that.
She continued to voice her displeasure while Joey stared at her, captivated by the sound of her voice and by her undivided attention.
A dissipated group of young men stumbled out of the rickety brothel, elbowing one another, straightening their ties, and snorting with ribald laughter. Their shirts were yellowed and stained, their trousers baggy. Only one wore a jacket over his youthful frame, the rest made do with mismatched vests.
Billy looked up.
The tallest one gave her a thorough perusal. “Well, hello. Are you, um, moving in here?”
His friends sniggered and coughed into their hands.
Stepping in front of her, Hunter bowed up. “You keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to this lady.”
The boy looked him up and down. “Or what?”
Hunter grabbed the young man’s collar and yanked him forward.
Billy sucked in a breath. “Hunter! What in the world?”
One of the friends stretched his arms to the side, blocking the forward motion of the remaining two fellows.
Hunter leaned in close to the one he held. The boy’s alcohol-riddled breath and unwashed body odor enveloped him. “Or I’ll knock you six ways from Sunday.”
“Now!” the friend behind them hollered.
Hunter pitched the one he had aside, preparing to take on the ones coming at him. But before they advanced, the boy he’d tossed skidded into the building. The walls of the rickety structure wobbled and creaked, threatening to crash to the ground.
The woman in the window gripped the frame as if she’d done so many a time before. Tenants on the lower floors poured out like ants from a disturbed anthill. But it wasn’t women of ill repute who evacuated, it was families with children of all ages and in deplorable condition. Hunter swooped Billy and the babe into his arms and raced across the street, plopped them down, then hurried back to help those he could.
By the time he reached the threshold, the building had only a slight sway to it. The woman in the window bent out, shaking her fist and cursing with no regard for the young, sensitive ears within hearing distance. If he’d been in Texas, he’d have gone up and arrested her. But he wasn’t in Texas. And the men, women, and children outside didn’t seem affected by her crudeness. They simply returned the way they’d come.
The young man who’d first offended Hunter allowed his comrades to help him to his feet.
“Come on, Kruse,” one of them said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Kruse struggled to stay upright, whether from alcohol or from his flight across the boardwalk, Hunter wasn’t sure.
Still, the youth straightened his hat and sneered. “You touch me again, cowboy, and I’ll—”
Hunter grabbed him by the arm and swung him around so he faced his friends. This time Hunter spoke to all of them. “I’m a Texas Rang—” He took a breath. “I’m a lawman from Texas, and where I come from hot words lead to cold slabs. We live a life down there that would make your pulp fiction novels look like a New Testament. So unless you’re in a hurry to get to heaven, I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself, you treat a lady like a lady no matter what her occupation, and you steer clear of me and mine. You got that?”
“Or what?” one of them asked, pulling a smoke from his pocket.
Hunter gave him a steely stare. “Or I’ll draw quicker than you can spit and say howdy.”
The boy widened his eyes, his gaze sluicing down Hunter’s body. “You have a gun?”
“Of course I have a gun.” What was the matter with folks up here?
They remained still and quiet.
“So, do we have an understanding?” Hunter asked.
The three in front of him nodded.
“What about you, Kruse?” He raised his captive’s arm a mite.
“I heard you.”
“And?”
“I’ll leave you and your lady be.”
Hunter slowly released the boy.
He scrambled away. His friends caught and stabilized him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that. His vest was too big, his jacket too small and frayed at the sleeves. Turning back toward Hunter, he curled his lip, showing a set of brown, crooked teeth, the front two a good deal longer than the rest. “Come on.”
They pushed past Hunter.
He watched until they’d turned the corner and disappeared.
“Hey, there, cowboy.” A new feminine voice floated down from the window. “If you’re looking for someone to tussle with, I’m a regular Annie Oakley.”
He glanced up. A gaggle of newcomers leaned out like chicks in a nest begging for food and showing off their plumage. The one who’d spoken gave him a wink, a smoke dangling from her berry-stained lips.
Tugging on his hat, he gave a slight nod. “Y’all have a nice day, now. Sorry for the fright I caused you.”
“Well, I know just how you can make it up to—”
A woman beside her gave her an elbow, then indicated something in the road with a nod of her head.
The group of them glanced into the street, then began to retreat.
Hunter whirled around, his hand already reaching for his gun. But it was just Billy and the babe picking their way across.
“What in heaven’s name was that all about?” she asked.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” He placed a hand at her back and propelled her toward the kindergarten cottage.
“Well, it was certainly something.”
“I didn’t like that boy’s tone.”
“You didn’t like his tone. So you picked him up and tossed him into the next county? Hunter, you can’t do that. Things are different here.”
“Not that different. A lady is a lady and a fellow ought to respect that no matter where he hails from.”
She sighed. “Was he hurt?”
“Just shaken up.”
“Well, did you see the shape that building was in? It looks like it will tumble down the next time a stiff breeze comes in off the lake. And they had women and children in there.”
“I saw.”
“Well, I think we ought to find out who owns it and issue a complaint. People’s lives are at stake.”
“Why don’t you just write an editorial for the newspaper?” he asked, his tone a touch sarcastic.
Her eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
Her response shouldn’t have surprised him, but even so, the fact that she took him seriously fouled his mood even more.
They made it to the alley. He guided her down it and to the door of the cottage. “Go put Joey to bed and let’s go. I have to be back at work by five.”
“You go on. I think I’m going to stay a bit—”
“No. You’re going with me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m staying right here with Joey and we’re—”
“Do you know what that place was?” He pointed in the direction of the bawdy house.
She blinked. “You mean that tenement?”
“It wasn’t a tenement.” He hesitated. “Well, maybe it was. But part of it was being used as a house of ill repute. And you had no idea. You just walked blindly down that street giving no regard for your surroundings.”
She propped a fist against her waist. “I’ve been in plenty of brothels, Hunter, tending to the sick. I’ve nothing to fear from
them.”
Rearing back, he looked at her aghast. “During working hours?”
“Their working hours? Well, no, but I would if I were needed.”
“The devil you would. No telling what’d happen.”
Her exasperation gave way to irritation. “There were children and their mothers living in that building. If they have nothing to worry about, neither do I.”
He ground his teeth. “You have no idea. And we’re wasting daylight. Take Joey upstairs, say your good-byes, and let’s go.”
“I’m not—”
“You either take him up there or I will. Now, move.”
Joey’s lip began to quiver.
“Look what you did.” She hugged the babe to her, kissing his forehead and whispering soothing words. Turning toward the door, she stopped at its threshold. “I’m taking him up and I’m staying for as long as I like. You’re welcome to stay or go. But I’ll not be bullied by you any more than I’d be bullied by those other boys.”
“Don’t you dare compare me to them.”
“Then quit telling me what to do.” With that, she stepped inside, the click of the door loud in the ensuing silence.
He had no choice but to wait. Fortunately, she didn’t linger long.
SITTING ROOM IN THE WOMAN’S BUILDING17
“Hunter grabbed one end of the sofa, pulled it up to the fire, then went to the other side and evened it up.”
CHAPTER
21
He had no ears to hear. Billy’s horse whinnied, then sidestepped away from his. She pointed out that women ran Hull House. He pointed out that men lived there, too. She told him she’d been a doctor in an asylum at Kalamazoo State Hospital. He grilled her, then gave a satisfied I-told-you-so when she revealed she’d worked with seven other doctors—all of whom were male.
“Never mind,” she said, sighing. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to debate the issue with you. You are not my father. Not my brother. Not my keeper. And certainly not my husband. I can and will do whatever I want, when I want, how I want, and where I want.”
“The devil you will.”
She looked him square in the eye. “Watch me.”
He blustered and harangued. Threatened and lectured. She gave no response. Her mind was made up.
Furthermore, she’d told the women in the nursery that she’d start coming out to Hull House—without escort—a couple of times a week to see to any who needed a doctor’s attention.
And that’s exactly what she did. She no longer waited for Hunter’s afternoons off. She rose the mornings she wasn’t working in the infirmary and started her day. Sometimes she went to the Nineteenth Ward, sometimes she attended women’s charity clubs. Sometimes she wrote editorials for the Tribune as Hunter had suggested, and sometimes she worked on plans for the playground.
On the days she did work, though, Hunter met her for lunch and waited for her after hours until she’d finished all her paperwork.
Turning off the infirmary’s electric lights, she stepped into the frigid parlor.
He sat on the couch, reading the Chicago Tribune. “You kept the clinic open awfully late.”
“I know.”
He didn’t look up from his paper, but continued to read. His jacket lay folded over the end of the sofa. His white shirt, stretched across his chest, highlighted the golden color of his neck and face.
“We had several cases of dehydration, upset tummies, and fatigue,” she said. “What they lacked in seriousness, they made up for in quantity. I simply didn’t have the heart to turn any away. We’re closed now, though.”
“I see your editorial about the condition of the tenements on Polk ran in today’s paper. It’s very good.” His tone held a hint of surprise.
“Thank you.” She, too, had been surprised to see its inclusion in the back. Pleasantly so. No one had notified her. They’d simply printed it exactly as she’d written it.
She hadn’t mentioned the brothel in her article, of course. Only the danger the building posed to those who were living inside it. “The owner of the house read it, too, evidently.”
He lowered a corner of the paper. “He did?”
“Yes. I received a message from him. We’re going to meet out there tomorrow to have a look at it.”
“What time?”
“Two o’clock.”
Folding the paper, he drew his brows together. “How do you know he’s the real owner?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he is. Why else would he have contacted me?”
“I can think of a lot of reasons—none of them good.”
The extra chill in the room signaled a temporary drop in temperature outside even though it was only July. She still hadn’t quite adjusted to the severe fluctuation of the city’s weather. Miss Weibel over at Hull House had laughingly said a person in Chicago could experience all four seasons in a single day. Billy was beginning to believe that it might be true. Perhaps she’d grab a blanket before sitting down.
“If you don’t believe the owner is legitimate,” she said, “you’re welcome to come with me.”
“I think I will. This whole thing was my idea, after all.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure.”
She acted as if she didn’t care, but the truth was, she’d be glad to have him along. Now that they took horses instead of the cable car, they had more time for quiet talks. Like this one. Where no one bothered them and no one overheard.
Turning back around, she reentered the infirmary and flipped on the switch.
“Where you goin’?” he asked.
“I’m getting some blankets.”
“Um.” The rumble came from low in his throat. “I like the sound of that.”
Thrilling sensations tumbled about in her abdomen. He probably hadn’t meant anything by his statement. He probably just thought having a blanket tucked around him sounded good after sitting out there in the nippy room. But that’s not what her body heard. It heard something elemental and enticing.
They weren’t a spooning couple the way Nurse Findley and Guard Carlisle had become. Billy had worked hard to keep her relationship with Hunter platonic, maintaining they were friends who temporarily shared a mission. A vision. Yet the more time she spent with him, the less inclined she was to keep things impersonal.
Whipping up two blankets, she returned to the parlor.
He knelt before the fireplace and began arranging logs.
“Are we allowed to light that?” she asked.
“The chimney goes all the way up and is bricked. I checked with the architect a few days ago.” He placed kindling in strategic spots. “Did you know she was only twenty-one?”
“Who?”
“The architect.”
She blinked. “Of this building?”
“Yes. The Board of Lady Managers had a contest and took submissions from women all over. Miss Hayden’s plan won. She’d just graduated from MIT.” He took a match out of the hopper, then struck it on the bottom of his boot. “This was her first project.”
“Good heavens.”
Lighting the kindling, he fanned the flames, then used a poker to shift a log. “She was here the other day, so I got to meet her. I still can’t quite fathom that she did all this.”
Standing, he grabbed one end of the sofa, pulled it up to the fire, then went to the other side and evened it up. It now blocked the entire hearth. “There. That’ll help trap the warmth some.”
Flames consumed the kindling and encroached upon the logs, then reached for the chimney. Handing him the blankets, she lowered herself into the middle of the sofa, careful not to crush his jacket on the cushion beside her.
He draped the coverlet over her knees and feet, then switched off the lights. “I hate those electric things. Would you mind if we just used natural light like I have at home?”
“Of course not.” She felt
the same way. The electric ones were nice, but natural was so much more soothing, somehow.
Darkness shrouded the room outside the cocoon of their firelight, though the lamps outside still cast a bit of artificial light through the windows. Sinking down beside her, he whipped his blanket like a tablecloth, then let it settle over his outstretched legs.
Neither spoke for several minutes, but words weren’t necessary. Just being together was enough, and the fire filled the room with comforting warmth and sound. A constant crackle provided a bass for the sudden snaps and bursts of sparks.
“So tell me what you did yesterday.” He kept his gaze on the fire, its constant movement throwing highlights onto his tousled hair. “Start from the beginning.”
At the beginning of the day, she’d put on her beautiful undergarments. The more she wore them, the more pleasure she derived from them. She’d never imagined how much of a difference they would make. They allowed her to enjoy her femininity without sacrificing her hard-won facade. “I’m starting to make some influential contacts at the Chicago Women’s Club.”
“Do you think any of them would be willing to help fund the playground?”
“I don’t know.” She tucked the blanket around her skirt. “I’ve casually mentioned it to a few of the women, but their responses weren’t overly enthusiastic.”
“What’d they say?”
“That we already have parks.”
“But they’re too far away to be practical.” Drawing up his legs, he grabbed the poker and overturned one of the logs. A flurry of sparks shot out.
“I told them that, but they shook their heads and in very patronizing tones told me parks were for the affluent, not the poor. That the slums weren’t worthy.”
Mouth thinning, he settled back against the sofa. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know, but that’s what they said. What about you? What did you do in between shifts yesterday?”
“Visited the city jail.”
“The jail?” She blinked. “How in the world will that help us with a playground?”
“I wanted to find out how many boy delinquents were in there and where they were from.”
She tilted her head. “And what did you discover?”
