“I hope the britches cushioned your fall,” Dave said with a hint of a smile.
Lacy thought about it for a moment, then, against her will, found the whole thing rather amusing. “I suppose your choice in this situation would have actually served me better. A ball gown and multiple petticoats would have given me a much softer landing.”
He nodded. “Sometimes I can be right, you know.”
“Pa always said even a broken clock was right twice a day.” Lacy took a step and winced.
“Here, let me help you.” Dave reached out for her, but Lacy wanted no part of it. She wasn’t that desperate or that brave. She could remember how she’d felt the other times Dave had touched her. Who knew what might happen if she let him hold her now?
“I’ll be all right. I just need to walk on my own and work the muscles.”
“Have it your way.” He shrugged and walked away, not even bothering to look back.
She supposed he was mad again but pushed aside the thought to focus on making her way to the house. The pain had lessened by the time she reached the back porch, and Lacy was convinced nothing was permanently damaged.
“Coop is repaired,” she announced, entering the kitchen.
Gwen was just pulling a pie from the oven. “I wondered where you’d taken yourself off to.” She turned after putting the pie on the counter. “You weren’t out there dressed like that, were you?”
Lacy looked down at her clothes. “No, actually, I just changed. A ball gown seemed far more appropriate for straddling a roof and repairing shingles.”
Gwen looked at her oddly. “A ball gown? What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. I patched the walls and shingled the parts of the roof that needed it. The hens ought to be happy until it gets colder. Now what can I help you with in here?”
“Well, you might as well go down to the cellar and bring up the potatoes. Oh, and get me several onions, too.”
The last thing Lacy wanted to do was climb down another ladder, but she also didn’t want Gwen to worry about her injury. She did her best to cross the room without betraying her condition. Gingerly stepping down the rungs to the cellar floor, Lacy nearly let out a sob as she stooped to accommodate the short space. Frustrated, she wanted nothing more than to sit down and cry. But Lacy knew there was no point. Tears wouldn’t solve anything. They never had. Strength was the only thing people respected.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beth plopped a pail of water down on the counter and shook her head. “I can’t believe the number of . . . customers . . . at Rafe’s tonight. They’re kicking up a real storm, and it’s barely past suppertime.” The thought of what surely must be happening very nearly under their noses caused her to shudder. “I don’t know why God allows such things. And on the night before Thanksgiving!”
Gwen took the hot water and poured it into the sink. “It is despicable, but I hardly think it has anything to do with God and much to do with man. We are sinful in nature—some more than others, it appears.”
“And such things are perfectly legal, so the law does nothing,” Lacy added rather bitterly. “Just as it usually does nothing.”
Beth made an attempt to busy herself by drying dishes, but she couldn’t let the matter drop. Her cheeks grew hot. “Oh, I do wish I were a man sometimes.”
This startled not only Gwen, but Lacy. Her younger sister smiled. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in some time.”
“Not that it does me any good to say it,” Beth replied. “Talking about a thing doesn’t resolve it or make it better. I could talk all night—sing it out at the top of my lungs—and nothing would change.”
Gwen stopped washing the dishes and looked at Beth. “Maybe you have an idea there.”
Lacy moved forward. “What do you mean?”
“Remember when we lived in that tiny town in Colorado—oh, I can’t remember the name—where the ladies from the church used to gather outside the saloons and sing hymns to annoy the bar owner and discourage the customers?”
“I do remember that,” Lacy answered excitedly. “They also posted the drinkers’ names at the church on Sunday morning, just to embarrass them further.”
“It seemed to work. I mean, it didn’t get rid of drinking altogether, but they moved the bar to the far end of town,” Gwen said.
Beth looked at her sisters, a smile beginning to spread. “I know a lot of hymns.”
Lacy laughed. “If we bring Major, he’s sure to help. Remember how he howls when we sing on Sunday morning?”
At his name, the dog’s ears perked, and he got to his feet. He seemed to understand the plan and headed toward the back door as if to encourage the group.
“I’d say the Major is all for it,” Beth replied. “What about Hank?”
Gwen shrugged. “Why would Hank care if I sang hymns? He’s gone back to the store to finish his inventory so he can close tomorrow for Thanksgiving.”
“Well, he might not like that his wife was a part of such a scheme,” Beth continued. “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt you needed to stay out of it.”
Lacy nodded. “Yes, men can be rather silly about things. I don’t even pretend to understand how they think, but this might be one of those simple things that somehow destroys the perfect order of Hank’s world.”
Gwen grinned and untied her apron. “I can reorder his world easily enough. I’m coming, and you cannot keep me from it.”
After quickly tidying the kitchen, the trio slipped out the back door and crept over to where Rafe’s girls did their entertaining.
The skies overhead were starlit, and the moon was nearly full. Added to that, Rafe had made a path with lanterns along the back of the saloon so that there would be light enough for visitors to make their way to and from their rooms of entertainment.
Two of the newer prostitutes stood cooing and sweet-talking two cowboys. Beth thought again of Lady Effingham’s seduction of Lord Wodehouse and wondered if this type of enticement truly interested men.
Gwen elbowed her in the ribs. “Did you hear me?”
“What?” Beth shook her head, rather startled.
“I asked if you thought this was close enough.”
“I can sing pretty loud if I have to,” Lacy replied before Beth could speak. “What shall we sing first?” Lacy asked, moving even closer to the rooms.
“How about that one hymn Pa always said was so convicting?” Beth tried to remember the name. “You know the one. He said it always made him feel like getting saved all over again every time we sang it.”
“Oh, I remember,” Gwen said, then started singing in a clear soprano. “ ‘Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears, and gird the gospel armor on.’ ”
Beth and Lacy joined in, remembering with no difficulty the song they’d sung a hundred times before. They made quite the choir, and their voices easily carried on the night air. The prostitutes stopped and turned away from the cowboys to stare at the girls.
“ ‘Hell and thy sins resist thy course, but hell and sins are vanquished foes,’ ” Beth sang, wishing fervently that Rafe and his business would also be vanquished.
A door opened from the entertainment rooms, and a man peered out rather sheepishly. “Say, what’s going on out here?”
The girls sang louder in reply. Beth thought it purely the hand of God that they should have come to the place in the song that mentioned, “ ‘What though thine inward lusts rebel.’ ” After all, Rafe’s business was all about lusts—lusts of the flesh and man’s natural desire to rebel against God’s authority. These men didn’t care that the women whose beds they shared were not here because they wanted to be. Beth knew for a fact that several had been forced to enter this sorry business as a means to pay someone else’s debt. Poor Ellie had no desire to be here, but hopelessness had overtaken her. She’d given in to this seedy side of life in order to have a roof over her head and food to eat. How could Beth condemn her for such a choice? Had the circumstances been different, Beth m
ight have found herself having to make such an undesirable choice, as well.
Two men stepped out from the saloon to head back to the rooms, but the ladies standing right there along the path, singing of God’s salvation, turned them back inside rather hastily. Beth thought it all great fun, especially as the occupied rooms soon emptied out with disgruntled cowboys muttering about meddling women.
They were just starting the sixth verse when Rafe came barreling out of the saloon. “What in tarnation are you Gallatin girls up to now? Stop that singing and get off my property.”
He glared at Gwen as if awaiting her explanation. She smiled while Lacy and Beth continued the song. “Mr. Reynolds, do you not care for hymns?”
“I don’t care to have do-gooders trespassing and ruining my business. You’ve driven off several of my customers, and now I’m doing the same with you. Get off my land.”
Gwen nodded. “Come, girls.”
They walked to the property line and stepped onto their own land. Rafe bellowed out after them, “And don’t come back.”
The girls exchanged a look, and Gwen murmured, “ ‘Come Thou Fount’?”
Lacy nodded and Beth began to sing, “ ‘Come, thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace.’ ”
Rafe looked at them as if they’d lost their minds. He stomped over to where they stood and began to rant again. “I told you ladies to get out of here.”
“Mr. Reynolds,” Gwen began while Lacy and Beth hummed softly, “as you can see, we are now on Gallatin property. You have no say over what we do here. Singing is something we love to do, and we love to sing about God’s goodness and mercy.”
Beth wanted to giggle as Rafe’s face darkened. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He let out a stream of obscenities, which only caused Lacy to hum louder. Beth followed suit.
Gwen continued. “Mr. Reynolds, you needn’t curse at us. You don’t like our singing, and we don’t like the business you run. It would seem we’re at an impasse.”
“Hardly.” Rafe seemed to get control of his rage once more. “I’ll send Cubby for the sheriff, and then we’ll see about your impasse. You’re interfering with my commerce. There’s bound to be a law that will see you ladies thrown behind bars.”
“And then who will feed you Thanksgiving dinner?” Gwen questioned sweetly.
Rafe balled his fists. “Why can’t you mind your own business and leave me to mine?”
“Because running a stage stop is not immoral and sinful,” Gwen answered.
Beth nodded and couldn’t resist joining in. “We never hold people against their will. If they don’t want to stay at Gallatin House, they can simply move on. Your girls are prisoners.”
“They owe me money. Nothin’ wrong with expecting a person to pay their debts. They’d be dead if not for me.”
“That would, no doubt, be in their best interest,” Lacy said.
“Better dead than forced to do the things you require.”
“I wonder if they’d feel the same way,” Rafe replied rather sarcastically. “It’s so easy for you to sit over here in your privilege and safety and say things like that, but it ain’t so simple when you’re the one having to live in poverty. I took those girls out of bad situations and gave them shelter and board. You Gallatin girls don’t have any idea what they were up against before I helped them.”
“You’re right,” Beth said. “We don’t know what they were up against, but we sure know what they face now. You took advantage of their need to satisfy your own desires. Knives to their throats, beatings when they manage to make you mad . . . yes, I can see they have a real good life.” She looked to her sisters. “I think we should go back to singing.”
Rafe turned and headed back to the saloon. He opened the back door and bellowed, “Cubby! Cubby, get out here! We’ll see what the sheriff has to say about this.”
The girls exchanged a look and smiled. It would take time for the sheriff to come from Bozeman—if he would even make the journey. They would never be arrested for singing hymns, and they knew it very well. So did Rafe. If he didn’t like what they were doing, he could move his business elsewhere.
“Cubby!”
The boy was nowhere to be found, and by now the girls and their customers had emptied out of the rooms to see what the commotion was all about. Rafe slammed the door and put his fist into the wall of the saloon. He was cursing again, but then turned and walked back toward Gwen. He shook his fist at her. “Where’s your husband?”
“At the store doing inventory.”
“Good. I’ll go get him, and we’ll see what he has to say about this.”
“Oh, please do,” Gwen said, nodding. “He’s a great baritone.”
Rafe made two steps forward and raised his hand as if to strike her. Beth stepped between them, however, and Lacy soon followed. “You’re a big bully, Rafe Reynolds. You seem to make a habit of hurting those who are helpless and unable to defend themselves. You would do well to get off of our property now and go back to your business.”
“Yes,” Lacy said, stepping toward Rafe as if she would take him on single-handedly. “The sheriff and his deputies are rather useless at times, but even they know there’s no law against singing. Now go away and leave us be, or we’ll rescind our invitation for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“No need to rescind anything. We ain’t coming to your Thanksgiving dinner,” Rafe declared, then immediately looked as if he wished he could take back the words. He quickly followed by insulting their faith and gender before storming off to the saloon.
He was cutting off his nose to spite his face, and Beth knew he would be the angriest of them all come tomorrow. “Well, I think that went rather well,” she said, turning to face Gwen.
The cowboys slinked off to follow Rafe, while Marie, the elder of the prostitutes, beat a path for the Gallatins. “What gives you the right to ruin our business? We need to make money, same as you.”
“I’m sorry, but you know it’s wrong. Rafe should let you all go,” Gwen replied.
“Go where?” Marie asked. “I don’t want to lay down and die like you suggest. I don’t think I would be better off dead.” She pointed her finger at the trio and shook it as if admonishing wayward children. “You have no right to judge me. I’m just doing what I have to in order to survive. Someday I plan for things to be different, but right now I’m getting by the only way I know how.”
“But there have to be other ways to survive,” Gwen said softly. “Marie, I never meant to be condemning, but this kind of life is wrong.”
Ellie made her way over but said nothing. Marie seemed to have enough to say for all of them. “You sit over here all pious and holy, but you ain’t nothin’ but troublemakers. Nobody asked you to come and save us. Now we’re all gonna pay the price because of your meddling. Rafe will see to it we have to work twice as hard tomorrow. I hope you’re happy.” She pulled her shawl close and marched back to her room.
Several of the women followed after Marie, talking in hushed voices amongst themselves. Only Ellie remained.
“We weren’t trying to make things worse for you,” Beth said, meeting Ellie’s sad face.
“I know you weren’t, but Marie is right. Rafe won’t stand for this, and we’ll be the ones who suffer.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I told Rafe to feel free to come get you,” Gwen said, explaining what had happened to Hank later that night as they retired for the evening. “I told him you had a great baritone voice.”
Hank put his white shirt neatly across the back of a nearby chair. “I’m not sure it was such a good idea to rile him, but I would very much have loved to have witnessed the scene.” He grinned at her.
Gwen combed her long, golden blond hair and smiled in return. “I’m afraid poor Rafe got the worst of it when he announced that he and his bunch would not be joining us for Thanksgiving. I’m sure he’ll regret that for some time to come.”
Laughing, Hank took hold of Gwen and pulled h
er into his arms. “Rafe needs to learn about keeping his mouth shut.”
Gwen nodded, then sobered. “I do wish there were some way to get him to leave. The saloon business seems only to grow stronger as more people move into the area. Those girls are suffering, and apparently, we just made it worse. I thought we might actually do something good by our actions, but Marie says things will only be harder. I know it’s not very Christian of me to say, but I wish Rafe would . . . well . . . fail. I wish his business would collapse, and he would move on.”
“I know. I am trying to buy Rafe out. I’ve offered him far more money than his land and place are worth, but he isn’t budging. He’s certain the railroad is going to come through this area and that his land will be worth far more than it is now.”
“And will it?”
Hank smoothed back her hair and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m not certain. I know Mr. Murphy planned to report favorably about this area, but I heard some of the other men commenting on how much easier it would be to take the route farther to the north by about eight miles.”
“So far as that?” Gwen frowned. “That would certainly bode ill for us.”
“I’m not convinced it would be bad,” Hank said, kissing her again. This time his lips lingered for a moment longer.
Gwen sighed. “But railroads guarantee a town of its existence. Supplies are easier to get, and people feel more confident of settling in an area that offers good transportation.”
“We have the stage route here, and I doubt that would change. The drivers know the lay of the land too well. You know yourself that this route has become quite important over the years.”
Gwen surprised him by pulling away. “But nothing stays the same. You said as much. It might be bad either way. If the railroad comes, then there will surely come more saloons and the kind of folks who frequent them. I always liked our little stage stop, but even now, with the store and the Lassiters expanding their business to include their family members, it’s changing. It’s growing so rapidly. There’s a sawmill, and before you know it, we’ll all be discussing schools and churches. We’re already discussing a town council and mayor.”
A Love to Last Forever Page 4
