by Kari Trumbo
He tethered Daisy near the small white house sitting across from the boardinghouse at the end of town, where Battle Creek swung around behind them like a scarf. The home had a short set of stairs to the porch. It was clean and neat and looked new, like most of the other buildings in Keystone. He stood outside the door as a feeling of unease crept over him. He’d never gone into a dress shop and this one was in a woman’s home. He certainly didn’t belong anywhere near a dress shop. Would she display all of women’s finery or just dresses? Would she even let him in? He’d only thought of Hattie and her need for clothing and privacy. He’d been so focused on getting Hattie some decent clothes, he hadn’t considered what his rushed plan would require.
A woman opened the door and regarded him with a question in her gaze. Rather than ask her question, she quirked her lips in a smile. He couldn’t thank her enough for that. She wore a tailored dark blue walking suit and her hair was put up intricately, it looked like waves cascading around her head. She shook the confusion from her face and offered a full smile, opening the door slightly and holding it in welcome.
She led him into the sizable parlor with headless dress forms all around. Dresses hung from them in various stages of completion. “I’m quite booked, sir, but if you need something small, I can probably accommodate you.” The elegant woman folded her hands in front of her and waited for him to explain why he’d interrupted her day.
She backed further into the room, allowing him a full view of everything she was working on. She was a busy lady, he hadn’t realized she wouldn’t sell something Hattie could wear today. That might pose a problem. He sucked in his breath to collect his words and glanced around him. The home had high ceilings and soft red wall paper. All the headless women forms around him made him nervous, as if he were surrounded.
He cleared his throat, but kept his gaze on the forms. “I have a young lady staying with me…friend of mine…who lost her clothing in a tragic accident. Everything’s gone. She needs, well, whatever women need. Can you help me?” He felt heat rush to his face. Hattie’s disappearance had forced him to do many things he never thought he’d do and this was another thing on that list.
The seamstress cocked her head and smiled in an over-bright way that made him jumpy; like she was up to something.
“Come with me.” She turned softly on booted feet and walked down a dim hallway, then through her kitchen to the back of her home. She dodged through another narrow door to a back room. He glanced back and forth at the forms and shook his head. They had no eyes, but he felt watched. And just where was this woman taking him? Going into the back of a single woman’s home, what was she thinking? He followed her at a distance, keeping track of just where he was. She strode through the door and waited for him, standing over a trunk. When he came fully in the room she began pulling out garments and tossing them into other trunks. Bright colors, lace, ribbons and ruffles flew over her shoulder as she tossed garments out.
She straightened, holding two dresses and white garments he didn’t want to inspect too closely. “How old is your friend, if I might ask?”
Young, far too young to be out wandering in the hills. “She just turned eighteen.”
“Ah, so is this someone a new spouse, perhaps? It’s generous of you to go to such trouble. I daresay most men wouldn’t.” She set the two dresses on a table and folded them. “Now, you will need underclothes.”
“Wait, no. She isn’t my wife. She’s just…” The woman would probably hear about Hattie soon enough, but if she hadn’t yet, he wouldn’t risk her not selling the dresses if he said anything. “Just a friend of the family.”
“Well, your friend will need underclothes. I have some marvelous fabrics here to choose from.”
No. He didn’t want to have anything to do with choosing Hattie’s underclothes. An unmarried man had no business knowing what women’s underthings looked like. He took a step back out of the room. “I’ll let you pick that out. I wouldn’t know the first thing…”
The seamstress laughed. “I’m sure not. I have some around here that never sold but should be perfect.” She dug around in the trunk some more and took some white and other colorful garments from the depths. She brought all the items to a table along the wall. The table had a large roll of paper bolted to it. The woman pulled a long portion off, then cut it, wrapping the gowns and other bits up carefully for him. She tied a string around it and handed it to him.
“Don’t worry about payment. The dresses are all samples from a few years ago. They’re from well before I ever came to Keystone and they’ve no use to me here, since I don’t do fittings anymore. Not to mention, they’re a few seasons out of fashion.”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a half-eagle, handing it to her. “Please, take this for your trouble, ma’am. You’ve done me a kindness I won’t forget.”
She regarded his hand for a moment with a frown, then accepted it, tucking the coin away into her skirt pocket. He slipped the large package under his arm and strode out of the shop, back into the sun, breathing a sigh of relief. His watch hung on his belt and he flipped it open to see he’d hardly taken any time at all. But there wasn’t much more he could do in town. He hoped Hattie had been able to finish her ministrations. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he came back too early. Spending too much time in Keystone was a bad idea, so he tied the package to the back of his saddle and turned Daisy for home.
Arriving back at the shack, he found the door open and his heart lurched. His search for Hattie had taken eleven long months; he didn’t want to think about starting over. If someone from the Red Garter had come to get Hattie, he’d go right back there and rescue her again. Blast it, they’d told him to take her!
He swung down from Daisy, snagged the package off the saddle, and ran into the house, his eyes taking in the whole scene in an instant. The tub sat on the floor, just where he’d left it. The water was a dirty gray, so she’d used it. He swung around and there, curled in a ball on the small couch, lay Hattie. Her hair was a golden yellow where it flowed down the side and almost to the floor. He took a step closer, quietly, so he didn’t alarm her. She had dark smudges under her eyes and the dark purple bruise down the side of her face seemed brighter now that her face was a clean milky white. Her bare arms also held many bruises, roughly the shape and size of a man’s hands. He clenched his fist around the package. What kind of savage could do that to a girl? He grimaced because he knew the answer. He’d met a few of them.
Even in her sleep, she gripped the edges of the flimsy sleeveless underdress he’d first found her in. He turned and went to the bed she’d slept in earlier. It was little more than a cot, but better than the floor. He picked up the thick quilt and brought it to her, covering her as much for her warmth as her modesty. As soon as the cover hit her, she snuggled deep inside and sighed.
He turned toward the table, where the plates from their luncheon still sat. She’d managed a little of the food he’d cooked earlier, at least a few bites. Every bit would help her regain what she’d lost. He took the plate outside, tossed the leftovers into the trees, quickly washed the few dishes using a little of the left over clean water from the kettle, then took care of Hattie’s bath water. He glanced back at her. She didn’t seem unwell, but it was an odd time of the day to sleep so hard. Course, with her previous occupation, she’d probably slept during the day, staying awake at night for her…work. Getting her back on a normal rhythm was another thing he’d have to help her through, but first the biggest one.
He’d never been much for drink. His da had told him stories of an uncle in New York who had trouble with the bottle from a young age. It eventually killed him, leaving his wife a widow. Da had said it was best to just leave the stuff alone, and he’d taken almost everything his da said as gospel.
Hattie shifted a bit then her eyes fluttered open, they were dull and sunken in her face.
“I’m sorry. I tried to wait for you, but I was so tired.” She yawned and tried to h
ide it under the blanket.
“It’s fine. Now that I know you’re all right I should go tend to Daisy, then I want to show you what I brought for you.”
She smiled slightly, but wouldn’t look up at him. Had she already begun to resent him? He’d tried to do right by her since finding her, but when he saw just how hooked she was to the bottle, he knew she might end up hating him forever. If Hattie had the mind to, she could get up and look around freely without him there. He took care of Daisy quickly, setting up a line for her by a tree and taking his saddle back into the lean-to. When he returned, Hattie had put away the blanket and wore the flimsy robe she’d been wearing under his coat. It was threadbare and did little to cover her.
He handed her the large, brown paper-wrapped package and her eyes grew large. She looked almost afraid to touch it.
“All this is for me? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a gift so large.” Her hands trembled as she hesitated then lifted it from his hands.
He pulled her money out of his wallet and handed it back to her. “She wouldn’t take payment, so it is a gift.”
Hattie took the money and set it aside, then carefully untied the string and unwrapped the paper. She gasped and pulled out the lace drawers and then lavender stays. Heat rose up his neck at the sight, and he turned and made his way into the kitchen. She laughed at him but then her laughter quickly turned to squeals of delight. He’d never heard her make such a happy sound. When he turned back around, his breath caught at the bright smile on her lovely face. She was holding up a pretty burgundy dress.
“Oh, do you think it’ll fit?” She held it up against her and suddenly he was worried it wouldn’t and she’d be disappointed, both in the gift and in him.
“Don’t look so worried, Hugh. I know I’m a spindly thing. I can sew it right up. Thank you.”
He gulped back a smile. “Why don’t you go behind the curtain and try it on, see what you think?”
She clutched it to her chest. “I think I will!”
Chapter Seven
HATTIE LAID OUT ALL the pretty items on the bed, cataloging everything in her head as she inspected them. How had Hugh known just what a woman would need? Roy had never cared about what women wore outside of the Red Garter. What she had now would more than double what she’d left in Deadwood, if they’d kept her few things.
The new fabric was as soft as a cloud against her skin, and she cinched, tied, and buttoned until she had every piece on as it should be. There was no mirror in the small cabin for her to see how she looked. She suspected the practical cabin was meant for a man; it didn’t seem big enough for a family. Thinking on the mirror again, she realized the only place she’d ever had a glass was in Keystone, and since then her reflection had turned into something she hadn’t wanted to see anyway.
She pulled out the second dress and flicked the wrinkles out. A brush landed on the pile; it had been wrapped in the dress. She grabbed it up and held it in her shaking hands. Oh, how good it would feel to brush her hair and put it up again. She stepped out from behind the curtain, the brush clutched tight to her chest.
Hugh gave an appreciative nod. “You look much better. What’s that you’ve got?”
She held it out to show him. “She put a brush in the package with the gowns, but my arms are so tired, I don’t think I can make it through all the snarls.” Her chest heaved with unshed tears. She hated being so weak. She’d always been strong, had always been able to count on her own strength.
“That was a surprise she didn’t tell me about.” He pulled out the chair for her and indicated she should sit.
The last time she’d let a man stand behind her, Roy had bitten her. Her hand touched the tender spot on her ear. She had to make a choice, realize Hugh wasn’t Roy and trust him, or live assuming every man was out to hurt her. He waited patiently for her to decide whether to sit. Hugh hadn’t done a thing to her, had even let her sleep in peace. He wouldn’t hurt her now.
Decision made, her hands trembled as she sat in front of him. He reached around her for the brush and his hand gently brushed her cheek. She flinched and drew away as he took it from her clenched fingers. No man in her life had ever been kind, with perhaps the exception of Reverend Level who’d led them from Montana to South Dakota, but he had been aloof at best to her and her sisters. He’d never spoken directly to her and certainly never given her anything. Even Ruby’s husband Beau had always looked at her with suspicion.
Hugh gently tugged at the snarls in the ends of her hair and took his time, slowly working his way up to her roots. At first the tugging was almost more than she could bear, but as he continued and the tangles released, each brush stroke was like a sweet caress. When he got to her scalp, he gently ran the brush down its length, as if he was as sorry as she was to be done with the task.
“I’m sorry, Hattie. I hope I didn’t hurt you too much,” he said quietly as he handed her the brush over her shoulder then turned from her. How could she answer that? His kindness made what all the other men had done all the more heartbreaking. And she’d let it happen just to get her hands on what she’d needed, or thought she needed. Blood pounded in her ears. How would she get more? What did she have to do to end the agony in her head?
She stood and faced his broad strong back. He wore trousers and a neat vest, the fabric across his shoulders was far too taut. Taking a deep breath, she held it then let it out slowly. She didn’t want to do this anymore, but the drink called her and if using herself was the only way to get it, she’d make sure Hugh knew she could accommodate if she had to. Roy had told her she was good at it.
She stepped forward and ran her finger down the soft satiny fabric on the back of his shirt. Instead of calming him and making him pliable, he sucked in his breath and held it, his whole body tightening into steel.
Hugh turned in an instant and grabbed her hand. “You don’t need to do that, Hattie. You aren’t that kind of woman anymore.”
Her lip trembled. His hand was firm, but didn’t hurt her. His eyes hard, but not at her. How could she be so weak? Couldn’t she even go one day without?
“Hugh. I don’t want to want it anymore.” She searched his eyes for help. He let go of her wrist and stepped back from her.
“I know, Hattie. There’s none here and I’ll do my best to help you, but I can’t fight that battle for you.” He turned his face to the window. “And I won’t be swayed, either.”
He’d known what she’d been doing and it was mortifying. Did he really want to help her out of some strange unwelcome sense of duty, or did he just find her hideous? She wanted to be strong, but in the same breath was the realization that she wasn’t. She wanted a drink, was desperate for it.
There were so many things she wanted to say. She’d never asked him to fight for her, he wasn’t much more than a stranger to her, but yet, there was something unnamed between them. She certainly hadn’t done anything to earn respect, but he respected everything about her. The hair on the back of her neck still tingled from his ministrations and her gaze flitted all around the room for something to think about other than him and the ever-present need for a drink. Saliva filled her mouth at the mere thought of it.
She turned to sit quickly and the chair tipped as she pulled it. Her heart raced in her chest at the loud thud against the floor and Hugh appeared at her side and righted it. He didn’t touch her but her skin felt his nearness, every muscle within her tensed. He looked down at her and, if he were any other man, she would’ve expected him to crush her close and take what he wanted, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t be swayed. His eyes softened, and he rested his hand on the back of the chair.
“I won’t hurt you, Hattie. I’m sorry I didn’t go to the mercantile and get you some pins for your hair. I know women like to wear it up, but I didn’t even think about such things.”
Of course he wouldn’t, but it warmed her heart to know he thought about it now. She scooped up her hair and brought it over her shoulder. The ends were quite rough after going so lo
ng without a brush. “I’ll just braid it and use the string from the box to tie it.”
He turned and went to the kitchen, digging through a small box within a trunk. An amber bottle caught her eye from inside the box and her heart skipped a beat in anticipation. She stepped closer to the trunk.
Hugh pushed it out of the way. “I know I saw a scissors in here to cut the string. There’s a bit of thread and a few needles in here too, though the dress looks good on you without you doing anything to it.” He grabbed something within the box and produced a scissors. She remembered a time when she’d thought all things intimate were to be welcomed and she would’ve used the opportunity to sidle up to Hugh to give him a little contact as a thank you. He was handsome after all, but she couldn’t act as she used to. Not now. Not after what he’d said. She reached out, careful to keep herself well enough away from him.
“Thank you, Hugh. I wouldn’t have known that was there.” She went outside for some fresh air and a little space from the man who seemed to fill the whole cabin. She held out a lock of hair; her shaking hands made the ends quiver. Her heart pounded within her chest. The scissors felt heavy as she lifted them to her hair and with the shaking of both hands, she couldn’t even manage to squeeze them together.
Hugh appeared by her side and dropped down on the grass next to her. “Are you trying to cut your hair?”
She nodded and held out the scissors, shaking in her hands.
“Let me.” He took them from her. She rubbed her hands together to calm the tremors, though, it didn’t help. He gently drew her hair over her shoulder to her back and combed her mass of hair straight with his fingers, sending pleasant tremors down her back. The pointed end ran along her back as he cut a straight line across the bottom. She held her breath.
