by Radclyffe
“You couldn’t have predicted this.” Kate kissed Jessie softly. “I’ll make up some food.”
“I would consider it a great favor to me if you would stay in town until I come back.”
“Jessie,” Kate said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Didn’t we talk about this just this morning?”
“I know,” Jessie said, releasing Kate’s hands and sliding her arms around her. “And you said that we should talk about things, so that’s what I’m doing. It’s too soon, Kate. You’re not used to being here yet.”
“I know how to cook, so I won’t starve. I know where the well is and how to drop a bucket into it. I know where the chickens roost, how to feed them, and how to collect the eggs.” Kate sighed. “I don’t know about milking the cows, though.”
“It’s easy. I’ll teach you.” Jessie grinned and rubbed her cheek against Kate’s hair. “That was on my list of things to do this morning, but somehow, I got waylaid.”
“I’m not complaining about that,” Kate murmured, kissing Jessie’s throat. “I’m sure one of the men will milk the cows for me.”
“It will only be for a few days.” Jessie tightened her hold. “I don’t want to ride out of here worrying.”
“Oh, how unfair for you to say that.” Kate smoothed her hand back and forth over Jessie’s chest. Jessie would never realize how she felt each time Jessie rode out somewhere, even when there was no danger. She would never forget that Jessie had been brought back one morning shot and close to death. It was a horror Kate never wanted to relive. Nor, she thought with a sigh, would she wish that kind of worry upon her lover. “My mother has been wanting me to have dinner there and spend the night. The day after tomorrow is her sewing circle, and I’d enjoy seeing some of my friends.” She freed herself from Jessie’s arms and stepped back, keeping hold of one of her hands. “I’ll stay here tonight and go into town before dark tomorrow. Then I’ll stay the next day for the sewing circle and that night, too. I’ll be home the same day you will.”
Jessie knew from the tone of Kate’s voice that no amount of arguing would change her mind. And, when she considered it, it seemed fair. It wasn’t entirely what she wanted, which was to have Kate always protected, if not by her, by her parents. But she’d always known that Kate was her own woman. She loved her for her fire and her fierce independence. She wouldn’t want her to be any different now. “I want one of the men to drive in with you.”
Kate wanted to resist. Eventually she would need to be able to come and go on her own. She did not want to be a prisoner at the ranch, and even more importantly, she wanted to be a real partner to Jessie. But there would be time for that, and she could not add to the worry that clouded Jessie’s eyes. She caressed Jessie’s cheek and nodded. “Until I’ve proven to you just what a good shot I’ll be. Now let me help you get ready to go.”
“Thank you,” Jessie whispered.
Kate smiled. “You never have to thank me for loving you.”
*
“You can put that on the dresser over there, Billy,” Mae said to the wide-eyed boy who carried a cloth-covered tray of food. He colored hotly and tried desperately not to look around her bedroom, which was visible just beyond her sitting area. Mae smothered a smile and wondered how long it would be until he was sneaking in the back door at night to visit one of her girls down the hall. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, ma’am,” he said as he stared at the floor and backed toward the door. The sound of feminine laughter coming toward him down the hall made him break into a sweat. He sidled past the two young women who were on their way into the room. They were dressed in things that he’d certainly never seen his sisters or any other young ladies in town wearing. He wasn’t even sure they were dresses.
Mae chuckled at the sound of his footsteps clattering hurriedly away. “It’s hard to believe there’s a man alive as innocent as that one.”
“Won’t last much longer,” Sissy said bitterly. She’d been around long enough to know what young boys turned into. At twenty she was one of the veterans among the girls. She eyed the bottle of good whiskey next to the food. “Looks like you’re doing some fancy entertaining.”
Annie, a plump redhead, eyed Mae eagerly. She was fifteen and still young enough to believe that she would save her money, move away, and make a new start. “Oh, that smells so good. Who’s coming?” She lowered her voice, although there was no one who could have heard. “Is it Mr. Mason from the bank?”
“Lord, I wouldn’t put on a spread for him,” Mae said, feigning horror. “I’m just having a little get-to-know-you dinner with the new doctor in town.”
“Is he handsome?” Annie enthused.
Sissy snorted. “Like that matters once the lights are out. What matters is how much he’s got in his wallet.”
“Now don’t you two start in,” Mae scolded good-naturedly. “And the doctor is a she.” Mae tilted her head as if considering. “And quite handsome.”
“Oh, that sounds so exciting,” Annie said. “A woman. I never heard of such a thing.”
“And handsome, you say?” Sissy looked intrigued. “Don’t be keeping her all to yourself then. Let us have a look.”
“Since she’s going to be taking over for Doc Melbourne, you’ll get your chance to meet her,” Mae said sharply, noting the predatory gleam in Sissy’s eye. She wasn’t at all certain that she wanted Vance at the mercy of some of her charges. She knew that the other side of loneliness was need, and Vance Phelps looked to have a lot of both.
Chapter Seven
Mae answered the knock on her door to find Vance standing in the hall, a battered leather satchel in her hand and an equally weathered wide-brimmed black hat under her arm. Mae recognized the hat as the kind worn by army men, and the dark blue trousers looked like army, too. Her shirt was gray flannel and her coat a darker gray. Her black boots showed no trace of dirt on the well-shined leather. Although not dressed in finery, she had taken more care preparing for her visit than most well-to-do gentlemen bothered with. They often arrived in a state of dishabille or near inebriation, two conditions in which they would never admit to visiting a lady. But then again, Mae and the others were not ladies.
“Hello, Vance,” Mae said with pleasure as she swung open the door.
“Frank told me to come on up when I inquired as to your whereabouts,” Vance said, resisting the urge to stare before deciding that Mae probably intended her appearance to be noticed. Otherwise, why wear something that flattered the figure so thoroughly while leaving only the most tantalizing of secrets to be discovered? Her deep burgundy dress, almost as fancy as a ball gown with its elaborate black stitching along the scooped neck and hem, was cinched at her narrow waist to accentuate her voluptuous curves. Black silk laces on the bodice seemed barely capable of containing her full breasts. Her shoes were the color of blood and matched the silk that brushed against her ankles. When Vance completed her appreciative survey she raised her eyes to find Mae regarding her with the faintest of satisfied smiles. “I hope you don’t mind me arriving unannounced.”
“No, I don’t mind.” Mae let the door close behind them and held out her hand. “May I take your coat?”
Vance hesitated, then shrugged her right arm out of her sleeve and slid the coat off her left shoulder with a practiced motion, catching it in her hand before it could fall. She held it out. “Thank you.”
Vance’s left sleeve was empty from the region of the elbow down. Mae watched as Vance deftly rolled the cuff up several times. Then Mae draped the coat over the back of a brocade chair, walked to the sideboard, and poured two neat shots of whiskey. She turned and held one out. “Drink?”
“Please.” Vance welcomed the familiar burn as she took stock of her surroundings. The sitting room was well appointed, with a thick rug, several cushioned chairs and a matching settee, tea tables, and a fireplace. An archway led into the adjoining bedroom, and she could just make out a deep blue coverlet on the corner of a poster bed. “If all the rooms ar
e like this, perhaps I should be staying here rather than the hotel.”
Mae laughed. “You’d be likely to find yourself with an unwanted visitor in the middle of the night, and the townsfolk would no doubt take up a petition if they heard that the new doctor was sharing rooms with the girls at the saloon.” She indicated the settee. “Sit down. I’ll get us our food in a minute.”
“I have a feeling,” Vance said as she settled into the plush seat, stretched out her legs, and crossed her ankles, “that the townspeople don’t need too much of an excuse to take up a petition.”
“Met some of them already, have you?” Mae topped off their whiskey and sat next to Vance.
“Mmm-hmm. I paid some visits with Caleb today on his rounds. I can’t tell you how many people were scandalized.”
“I imagine you’re used to that. Couldn’t have been that much different where you came from.”
“Philadelphia,” Vance said, answering the unasked question. “And no, it wasn’t, although the outrage tends to be more subtly expressed in that social setting.”
“There’s nothing quite like polite indignation, is there,” Mae said with a trace of bitterness.
Vance set down her glass. “You sound like you’ve experienced it firsthand.”
“My mother was a lady’s maid in Baltimore. I was raised around the privileged.” She waved her hand as if swatting away a troublesome insect. “I could play with their children, even take lessons with them, until we were of a certain age.” Her smile was brittle. “When the young men—the sons of the wealthy—began to find me of interest, I was suddenly no longer welcome in the same circles.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. Let me get you some dinner.” Mae rose abruptly and moved to the sideboard, where she uncovered the platter of cold chicken, bread, and cheese. She lifted the tray. “You must be hungry if you spent the day with…” To her surprise, she felt Vance at her side. “What is it?”
“Let me take that for you.”
Struck by the intensity in Vance’s gaze, Mae extended the tray. “Why, thank you.”
Vance gripped the tray on one side and steadied the opposite edge against her chest and her left upper arm. As she carried it back to the sitting area and carefully set it on the low table between the chairs, she said, “I can load and fire a rifle as quickly as I could with two arms. I can also saddle my own horse and do most other things.”
“You think I was serving you because you’ve got one arm?” Mae gave her a look between exasperation and affection. “I’m used to serving men, who rarely lift a fing—”
“Although I can pass for a man, and have, I’ll not have a woman do for me.”
“Habit is all I meant,” Mae said gently. Seated once more, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “I don’t imagine you allow anyone to do for you.” Her gaze fell on Vance’s empty sleeve. “How did it happen?”
“No one ever asks,” Vance said curiously, almost to herself, wondering how they had so quickly moved to such sensitive topics. It seemed that when she was with Mae, she revealed far more than she intended. With a conscious attempt to redirect the conversation, she said lightly, “I doubt you’d find the details of any interest and—”
“You should let me judge that.” Mae leaned forward and prepared two plates, then handed one to Vance. “I know you were in the army. Did anyone know you were a woman?”
“How did you know that?”
“Your trousers. They’re army issue. I’ve seen enough army men to know.” She nibbled at a bit of cheese. “And you do not look like the kind of woman who buys secondhand clothes. Or steals them.”
Vance laughed. “There was a time or two, especially when the campaigns were long and far from home, when I was tempted to…expropriate a new pair. But you’re right, these are mine, and yes, I served in the Union Army for three years.”
“All that time, and no one knew.”
“Some did. I wasn’t the only woman. I know of at least one officer whose wife joined at the same time he did and served in his outfit.” Although she wasn’t hungry, Vance ate a little. “The services of every able-bodied person were needed, especially doctors. No one cared what was under my clothes.” She smiled grimly. “Or what wasn’t.”
“What about your family? Surely, they were opposed.”
“My father was against it.”
Vance’s face closed on some hard memory, and Mae knew instinctively she’d gone as far as she could that night to assuage her not-inconsiderable curiosity about the mysterious doctor. “The war didn’t touch us that much—not like it did you back East. We knew about it and the soldiers have been straggling through town more and more since it’s been over. So many of them—like they have no purpose anymore.”
“I imagine you’ve been fighting your own wars out here.”
Thinking of the arduous trek by foot and wagon when food and shelter were always scarce, the deaths from accidents and disease along the way, and the harsh and unforgiving land at the end of the journey, Mae nodded. “True enough. It does feel that way at times.”
“How many girls work here?”
“Around about a dozen or so at any time. Some get lucky, find a man who doesn’t care what they’ve been, and they move on. Some hope they still have a home somewhere back East to go to and they leave.” Mae shrugged. “Most stay because they’ve nowhere else to go.”
“And you…look out for them.”
“You could say that. I do what I can to see that they don’t get hurt.” She sighed and gave Vance a weary smile. “We live outside the law, what little of it there is here. No one will take our side against a man, no matter what the offense.”
“But you protect them somehow.”
With a delicate, well-manicured hand, Mae drew up the hem of her skirt to just above her shapely knee, revealing a small revolver secured with a thin strap above the top of her stocking. “I know how to use this, and I have.”
A grin spread across Vance’s face. “Fear is a powerful weapon.”
“That it is.” Mae rose, poured brandy, and returned. She handed one glass to Vance. “What was it like doctoring today?”
Vance considered her strange travels with Caleb to several outlying ranches as well as to the homes of some townspeople. “Funny, the people on the ranches seemed far less disturbed by me. Of course, most of the people we visited in town were ladies.” Vance flicked her empty sleeve. “Not only is this shocking, but the rest of me is apparently just as bad.”
Mae snorted derisively. “You could be wearing the finest Paris fashions, but as long as you’re doing the work of a man, you’re going to cause talk. Are you good at it?”
“I don’t know,” Vance said quietly. “I was. Once.” She met Mae’s eyes and saw acceptance, before she had even confessed. “I haven’t been able to do much of anything since I was shot.”
“That’s when you lost your arm.”
“Yes.” Vance cleared her throat, which had gone tight. “My skills are…perhaps somewhat lacking now.”
“Your skills,” Mae rejoined, both amused and adamant, “have got to be far better than most anyone else’s in the territory. Doc Melbourne is about the only real doctor out here.” She leaned forward, displaying an alluring amount of cleavage, and tapped a delicate finger on Vance’s thigh. “So don’t let anyone in town or otherwise make you feel like you shouldn’t be doing what you know how to do.”
Vance registered the subtle sway of Mae’s breasts but it was the hand on her leg that shocked her, the touch so foreign she barely recognized it. The only people in memory who had touched her had been those changing her bandages. They had come once a day, bringing unspeakable pain through no fault of their own. She saw the endless rows of beds, standing open like graves, heard the plaintive cries of the dying, felt the pathos seep into her bones. She shivered and a trickle of cold sweat ran down her neck.
Mae moved closer still, dabbed the sweat from Vance’s throat with a white lace h
andkerchief she withdrew from her bodice, and murmured, “You’re not there now, wherever it is.”
“It’s inside me,” Vance gasped, not even meaning to speak.
“Well then, we’ll just have to see about getting it out.” She sat back and spoke in a normal tone, knowing that the only way to chase away the terror was to get on with the living. “One of my girls is pregnant.”
Vance blinked and narrowed her eyes. The room came into sharp focus. She knew that Mae had witnessed her lapse, but it didn’t embarrass or humiliate her the way it usually did. Mae regarded her with no hint of pity or morbid interest. She drew a breath and felt the nightmare release her. “Pregnant?” At Mae’s nod, she went on, “How old is the girl?”
“Fourteen or so. She doesn’t rightly know. Her parents died from typhoid while traveling overland and the wagon master brought her this far and left her on her own.” Mae shook her head. “I suppose he should be given credit for that. She would have brought a fair price in one of the mining camps.”
“Christ.” Vance stood and paced, stopping before crossing the invisible border into Mae’s boudoir. “How far along?”
“I’m guessing seven months. She’s only been here five. Someone got at her before she arrived.” Mae stiffened, her smooth delicate features hardening. “There’s others here as young as her, younger. But when I saw she was in that way, I kept the men away from her.”
“How does she support herself?”
“I see that she’s fed and has a room.”
“You could wear yourself out trying to save them all, I imagine,” Vance said softly from across the room.
“I imagine you would know,” Mae murmured, her gaze traveling gently over Vance’s pale face.
*
“How anyone ever took her for a man, I’ll never know,” Annie said a touch breathlessly. “She has the most beautiful eyes, so kind.”
“Put her in a uniform with a couple of layers of long johns underneath,” Sissy said, “smudge a little dirt on her face to cover up that lily-white skin, and who’s to say she wasn’t what she claimed.”
