by Dee Burks
“No, honey, believe me it’s not. That is one woman you wouldn’t want to meet: all peaches and cream on the outside and stone cold ice on the inside. I’m glad Tommy doesn’t really remember her.”
They passed the first few of houses on the outskirts of town.
“So, were you?” He elbowed her playfully.
“Was I what?” She dodged his elbow.
“Serious or not about those ‘stud services’?”
She smiled. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“I’m sure glad you don’t play poker,” he laughed, “Cause I’d be a real poor man by now.”
Charlie pulled the wagon up to Hardin’s Mercantile. Samantha surveyed the familiar scene. Her mother would have been amazed at how few people were left. Main Street was about the only place still muddy from the rain. Claire James had complained frequently about having to drag her skirts through mountain mud, and after last night’s experience Samantha completely understood why.
A tinkling piano drifted down the street. Miss Sadie’s looked like a worn-out Victorian home. Sort of. The lower level had clearly been a log cabin at one point, but someone had tried to change that by adding a second story, some white paint, and a few tattered looking gingerbread architectural accents. The paint on the building peeled off in several places, showing the dark brown logs.
A bright yellow sign out front announced it as “Miss Sadie’s Place” and looked much newer. Still, it was the nicest building in town, which said a lot about the population. Mostly single men she’d guess as she’d seen very few women yesterday when she walked down Main Street. Unlike the other shops and businesses in town, Sadie’s appeared to have plenty of clientele even though it was only mid-day. She was sure the building had been there when she was a child, but she never gave it much notice. She just knew it was a place where men went, like the saloon. But she wasn’t a naïve fourteen-year-old anymore.
Charlie helped Samantha down from the wagon and escorted her inside the mercantile. The bell above the door chimed their arrival. Mr. Hardin’s shiny head popped up from behind the counter and the rotund Mrs. Hardin bustled out of the back room.
“Charlie Williams!” Mr. Hardin’s gravelly voice boomed toward them. The older man extended a hand and Charlie shook it vigorously. “Well, what have we here?” He tilted his chin to get a better look at Samantha through his half spectacles. “Mother, you better come have a look.”
Charlie introduced Samantha and Mrs. Hardin’s face lit up.
“Sam and Claire’s daughter! I should have recognized you. Why, you’re all grown up . . . and that hair! Just like your mother’s.”
Mrs. Hardin hurried Samantha off, plying her with questions. A tall, boney woman with dark brown hair streaked with grey stood next to the fabric counter. Mrs. Hardin touched her arm and pulled Samantha over. “Mertie Mae, here’s someone you just have to meet!”
The woman looked Samantha up and down and sniffed as if she’d just stepped in a cow patty.
Mrs. Hardin continued on. “This is Miss Samantha James.”
“Who?” The woman examined a bolt of denim like she was checking for fleas.
“You know, Sam and Claire James. She’s staying with the Williamses.”
Mertie Mae immediately focused her attention on Samantha. “The Williamses? Is she related to them?”
An awkward silence fell between the women. Mertie Mae pierced Samantha with suspicious eyes while Mrs. Hardin twirled her fingers nervously. Samantha felt compelled to say something, anything. “They are old friends of the family.”
“But they are not family, are they?” The condescension in her voice matched her upturned nose. “You’re not staying out there unchaperoned, I’m sure?”
Samantha had an instant dislike for this crow-like creature.
Mrs. Hardin frowned, “Mertie Mae, this town needs more fine young women from good families, like Samantha.”
“What this town needs, Sarah, is respectable, quality women. Not the kind that turn every man’s head and go about unchaperoned—and staying at the home of a notoriously violent man to boot.”
“Mules in dresses, that’s what she wants!” Mr. Hardin mumbled from across the room.
Mertie Mae pinned him with a glare and Mr. Hardin disappeared into the back room. The woman narrowed her eyes at Samantha and dropped the bolt of cloth on the counter, slamming the door on her way out.
“I didn’t mean to cost you a customer.” Samantha whispered to Mrs. Hardin.
“Don’t think a thing about it. We’re the only store in town.” She patted Samantha’s hand. “She’ll be back. You pay her no mind. She’s picked out the Williams boys as suitable matches for her daughters.”
“Which one of the Williams boys?”
“Whichever one gets dumb enough to slow down!” Mr. Hardin tossed in, having reappeared at the counter near where Charlie stood. He and Charlie cackled at his humor.
Samantha bit her bottom lip and hesitated. She didn’t want to look like she was sizing up the competition, but her curiosity was aroused. “Are her daughters pretty?”
“Mules in dresses.” Mr. Hardin chimed in again.
Mrs. Hardin covered her laughter with the back of her hand. “Oh, Henry!” She half scolded her husband. “Let’s just say they aren’t very easy on the eyes.” She nodded at the list in the younger woman’s hand. “What can I get for you, dear?”
She gave the woman a long list of necessities, from clothing to writing paper, then wandered around the store as the items were wrapped and placed on the counter. Samantha amassed a large basketful of baking essentials, including some chocolate for cookies. Charlie’s eyebrows crept toward his hairline as the number of packages grew. He separated her from an increasingly excited Mrs. Hardin and pulled her aside.
“Sammy, did you ask Taos about this?” He whispered, motioning to the mound of packages.
“Why should I? He doesn’t have any say in what I do.” She picked up a rag doll just like the one she used to have as a child. Black button eyes and red yarn for hair.
“He does when you’re spending his money.”
Samantha plopped the doll back down and opened the clasp on her small purse. She pulled out a large wad of bills and Charlie’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing with that kind of cash?” He pushed her hand back toward her purse and glanced around to make sure no one else had seen it.
“Paying my own way. I won’t be a burden to you if that’s what you’re concerned about.” She slapped his hands away.
“It’s not me, its Taos. He told me to take care of anything you need and put it on his account.”
“I’ll take care of myself. He is the last person I want to be indebted to.” She turned in a huff and went to the counter to pay for her purchases. Both the Hardins looked at Charlie for an explanation, but he just shrugged.
Samantha stood on the walk and gazed down the street as Charlie loaded the wagon. For the most part it was a quiet morning. Two women walked by and nodded at Samantha, who smiled back. Potential friends. She could use a few. Miss Sadie’s was hard to ignore as laughter drifted out into the street.
Samantha twisted her mouth as she thought, chewing on the inside of her lip. What she needed was education. If she knew one tenth of what those women knew, Taos would be convinced she was serious about following through with the idea of getting her ranch any way she could, even if she had no intention of going through with it. He’d have to guard her every second, which was the whole point of her hiding out in River City in the first place.
She stared at the building down the street. It’s not like Aunt Mattie didn’t explain the fundamentals of what men and women did behind closed doors, but fundamentals just weren’t enough in this situation and she knew it. Besides, the feeling of being in Taos’s arms opened up a whole new curiosity she just hadn’t had before.
That’s it. The idea made her stomach flutter with excitement. They’re business women after all. The worst they could
do is say no. Her pulse quickened. She waited until Charlie went inside for another load then disappeared down the walk.
She heard Charlie yell her name just as she disappeared down the alley next to the saloon. She’d come this far; she wasn’t about to stop now.
Chapter 8
Samantha paused just inside the back doorway of Miss Sadie’s, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dark shapes slowly took the form of familiar objects: a table, chairs and a stove. She heard loud voices coming from the front of the building and the ever-present piano music. The kitchen she stepped into was just as deserted as the alley had been—so far. A bulky mass appeared from the hallway in front of her.
“Lordy! You scared ten years off me, Missy.” The woman slipped into the dim light of the kitchen and looked Samantha up and down. “We don’t allow no wives in here. Not good for business.” She lit a lamp on the table. Samantha tried not to stare. Easily as wide as she was tall, the woman was dressed in some kind of tent- like garment in the strangest shade of orange she had ever seen. It almost made her want to blow the lamp out again.
“You better git or I’ll have Adler toss you out.”
“I’m here to see the woman in charge.” At least Samantha’s voice didn’t shake as much as every other part of her body did.
“Sure you are, Missy. Like I said, no wives. Your man’ll be home directly.”
“I don’t have a man.”
The woman turned a more assessing gaze on her. “Lookin’ for work? You’d make a real good living here with that hair and all.” She waved a chubby hand toward Samantha’s body and grinned, highlighting large gaps in what was left of a row of yellow teeth.
Samantha instinctively crossed her arms in front of her, feeling exposed. She stammered. “It’s not like that. I mean . . . I have a problem and . . . I just need to see Miss Sadie.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a few bills, and held them up. “I can pay for her time. It’s strictly business.”
“Well, that’s different.” A large hand reached forward to shake Samantha’s. “The name’s Ollie. Miss Sadie can always spare a few minutes for business.”
Samantha followed the woman down a corridor and into what looked to be a parlor.
“Wait here, Missy. I’ll get her.”
The urge to run almost overwhelmed Samantha. She twined her fingers nervously and looked around the room. The furnishings were surprisingly normal. In fact, they were very tasteful. With its stylish furniture and conservative colors, this parlor might be in any home in Boston. She had expected something more . . .
“Trashy?” A slim, older woman dressed in a fashionable dark green taffeta leaned against the door jamb with one perfect eyebrow raised. Her black hair, with subtle hints of gray, had been pulled back into a knot at her neck. “You were expecting something gaudy and trashy?”
“Miss Sadie?” Samantha’s voice croaked. Could the woman read her mind?
“No, I’m her Aunt Mavis.” She crossed in front of Samantha and seated herself in one of the wingback chairs. “I’m not a mind reader either, dear. Your face gives you away.”
She smiled warmly. Samantha was both relieved and drawn to her silent invitation, sinking into the opposite chair as the woman spoke. “Miss Sadie is more a title than a person. My niece has only been here a week, and she inherited the title from my sister.” A rustle sounded down the hall. “Speak of the devil.”
A small woman hurried into the room. “Did you send for me, Aunt Mavis?”
“Miss Sadie?” Samantha’s shock gave way to concern. This woman couldn’t be more than nineteen, twenty at the most. She had an almost nun-like appearance with every inch of skin covered in a black crepe dress that was conservative almost to the point of being unfashionable. Samantha’s gaze traveled down the black fabric and was drawn to . . . it couldn’t be . . . a string of rosary beads? Was this some kind of joke?
“The title is only temporary.” The newcomer’s lips drew into a thin line as she followed the path of Samantha's stare to the beads. “My name is actually Sage. And you are?”
“Samantha James.”
Mavis motioned for Sage to join them on the small red settee. Samantha noticed the two women had the exact same shade of hazel eyes, both pairs of which were now fixed on her, waiting for an explanation.
What am I doing here? Samantha stared at the floor and rolled the fabric of her skirt between her fingers, trying to find a starting point for this conversation. She hadn’t really had time to think about how to word her request. Five minutes ago she was standing outside the mercantile, now she was sitting in an infamous house of ill repute as if she did this every day. Mavis’s voice gave her a start.
“Just spit it out, dear, you won’t shock us. I’ve heard just about everything over the last twenty-five years.” Mavis exuded kindness and patience.
Samantha took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “I have this problem with my inheritance. I can’t get it unless I’m married or have an heir, but I don’t want to marry.” The words spilled out bunched together. She paused. There was no reason to share the information about John or why she was really here. The fewer people who knew the better. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear herself speak. Both women listened intently but didn’t seem surprised or shocked. She was unsure what to say next.
“So you need help in producing an heir?” Mavis’s voice remained calm and reassuring.
Sage gasped. “You want a child, but no husband? Why would you do that?”
Samantha mentally calculated the time it would take her to dash from the room and away from this unbearable humiliation.
Mavis glared the girl into silence and turned her attention back to Samantha. “I apologize for my niece. She is new to this profession and still very naive.”
The reproach was stinging, and the girl shrank back into the cushions.
“Your problem isn’t a hard one to solve. Any cowboy could help you. Why come to us?”
This wasn’t going well. Samantha bit her lower lip and stared at her hands then at Mavis. She seemed so kind, a little more truth surely couldn’t hurt at this point. “Can I be completely honest?”
Mavis leaned back in her chair. “Please do.”
“I just want a particular man to think that I would go through with having a baby on my own.” The heat on her face intensified. “I don’t know enough about it to convince him though, since I never, well, you know.” Mavis nodded as Sage’s eyes widened.
“So, what you need is education, dear?”
“Yes,” Relief flooded over her. “That’s it, and I would be happy to compensate you for your time.”
Mavis stared intently at Samantha for several minutes before she spoke. “You’re certainly different than the others who have come here.”
“Others?” Samantha asked. Was it possible that this was a common occurrence? Surely not.
“Over the last twenty years I can count on one hand the number of times a respectable woman sat in this parlor. They are generally of two types: the tambourine bangers who come to save souls, or wives begging me to cut their husbands off. Figuratively speaking of course.” Mavis chuckled at her own humor, which passed over Samantha and Sage completely.
“All of the women approach me in the same disdainful, emotional way as if I’m not fit to scrape bug juice off their shoes. You‘re different: honest, direct, and business minded. An unusual and potent combination, Miss James.” She paused a moment. “I know there is much more to the story than you are letting on, but as far as I see it that is your business, not anyone else’s.”
Samantha had always been a terrible liar. If Taos could see that, none of this would even be necessary. She was relieved Mavis seemed completely uninterested in her real motives.
“Sage, go and get Cinnamon,” The young woman leapt to her feet, glad to be leaving.
“So you’ll help me?”
“I’d be happy to help. Cinnamon is about your age and quite skilled. I think you’ll
be comfortable with her.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Glad to help, dear. In fact, more than glad. Respect and dignity are in short supply in this profession. Your attitude and appreciation are a soothing balm to a long forgotten heart.” Mavis reached over and patted her hand.
Cinnamon and Sage entered the room and Samantha was immediately struck with the thought that the two could almost be twins, though Cinnamon was about six inches taller and seemed a number of years older than Sage. Cinnamon certainly looked the part of a prostitute with her bright red satin dress, low-cut and fringed with black lace. A stark contrast to Sage’s nun-like appearance. Sage turned to leave.
“Oh no, Sage. I think it’s time you had a better understanding of what we do.” Mavis’s tone was insistent. Sage reluctantly resumed her place on the bench.
Cinnamon had her mother’s calm and reassuring manner. She sat next to Sage on the settee and spent more than twenty minutes explaining most of the basics in a very direct and matter-of-fact way much as Mattie had years ago. As she spoke, Samantha slowly relaxed.
“Now that’s most of it, but there are some variations,” Cinnamon arched a questioning brow at Mavis, who nodded for her to continue. As Cinnamon talked, Samantha imagined herself attempting a few of the ‘variations.’ Some of the descriptions were intriguing, others downright repulsive.
Samantha looked at Sage, who seemed as mortified as Samantha felt. Well, at least she wasn’t alone. Surely people don’t really do this? Or not all of it anyway! At least she was gaining enough information to scare Taos.
Cinnamon continued on with the lesson. “Now, the first time, a man is going to be able to tell that you’ve never been with anyone else before.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “And for that you would need to find someone gentle that knows how to please.”
“How would you do that?” Sage was as curious as she was.
“Well, I could give you a list.” Cinnamon grinned. “Unfortunately it’s a short one. Most men don’t care much as long as they get what they want.”
