Beyond the Trail. Six Short Stories

by Jae

  What if ...? She gathered her hair behind her head and stared at herself in the broken mirror.

  Not allowing herself time to reconsider, she picked up a pair of scissors.

  Black locks fell onto the dresser, and she imagined stripping off the grief, anger, and shame of her past with them. When she was done, she wiped the strands of hair away from the mirror and stared at the thin, pale boy looking back at her. She touched the bare skin of her neck and slid her palms down her still flat chest.

  Could this really work? Would she be able to make people believe she was a boy?

  She tried a male pose, her thumbs stuck in imaginary vest pockets, but it looked out of place since she was wearing a dress. Another idea came to her and made her smile. When she looked down, the boy in the mirror answered with a grin of his own.

  She opened her mother’s trunk. Beneath half-empty bottles of whiskey, she found a man’s shirt and pants. One of her mother’s customers had liked for Lilly to dress up as a boy.

  After slipping her dress over her head, she stepped into the pants, pulled them up, and rolled up the too-long pant legs. The waistband was too loose, so she was grateful for the suspenders that held the pants in place on her narrow hips. The shirt was too wide at the shoulders, but it would conceal whatever female form she had.

  She glanced in the mirror again, blinked, and shook her head at her image. This is me!

  It felt as if she were seeing herself for the first time.

  Her gaze swept through the room, taking it all in one last time, then she picked up her bag, turned, and strode away.

  * * *

  The door opened just as Lucinda wanted to give up knocking. A sleepy Rose, wrapped in a short dressing gown, blinked at her. “For heaven’s sake, it’s the middle of the day. Come back tonight.” Already closing the door, she asked, “Besides, aren’t you a bit young to lie with a woman?”

  “What?” Almost too late, Lucinda held out her hands and stopped the door from closing. “Oh. No, no. That’s not why ... Rose, it’s me.”

  The door whooshed open so abruptly that Lucinda stumbled into the room. Rose caught her, then held her at arms’ length and stared at her. “Lucinda?”

  She nodded and, trying to make her voice sound firm like a boy’s, added, “I suppose you should use another name now. Call me ... Luke.”

  “Luke?” Rose’s brow contracted. “What are you doing?”

  The unfamiliar shirt slid against her skin as she straightened her shoulders. “Starting a new life.”

  “As a boy?” Rose’s carefully tended eyebrows arched.

  “It feels right.”

  Rose let her gaze wander down Luke’s body, making her blush. “Looks right too,” she said with a shake of her head. “Except ...”

  “What?” Luke peered down her body but couldn’t find anything amiss. As far as she could tell, she looked like every other twelve-year-old boy in Galena.

  “Well, you’re missing somethin’.”

  Luke smoothed her palm over the back of her neck and through her hair. “You mean a hat?”

  “That too.” Grinning, Rose glanced down Luke’s body. “Take off your pants.”

  Heat stained Luke’s cheeks. “What? No. Why?” She clamped her hands around the suspenders, tightly holding on.

  Rose rolled her eyes. She turned away, searched for something in her dresser, and then strode over to Luke. Before Luke could react, Rose stuffed her hand down her pants.

  “Rose!” She struggled to get away, but Rose was stronger. “W-what are you doing?”

  “Calm down. I’m not out to hurt you. There.” Finally, Rose withdrew her hand. When she glanced down at the spot between Luke’s legs, she gave a satisfied nod.

  Her heart still hammering against her ribs, Luke followed Rose’s gaze down.

  A soft object tented the material at the crotch of her pants. Luke carefully touched it. The tips of her ears burned. “W-what’s that?”

  “Don’t worry.” Rose laughed. “It won’t bite your privates. Just some rolled-up stockings. Now you can pass as a boy.” She shook her head and stared at Luke. “And a handsome one at that.”

  More heat suffused Luke’s cheeks, and she frowned at herself. Boys don’t blush about things like this. If you want this to work, you better stop acting like a girl.

  “So you’re leavin’?” Rose asked.

  Luke nodded. “I’ll try to get hired as a stable boy.”

  “Sure beats the only other option,” Rose mumbled. “But you’ll get older. Your bosom will grow, and you’ll start your monthly curses. What will you do then?”

  Luke’s mother had talked to her about these things, but somehow, imagining herself as a woman was stranger than wearing men’s apparel. She raked her front teeth over her bottom lip. “I’ll think of something.” She held out her hand. “Good-bye, Rose.”

  Instead of taking her hand, Rose pulled her close for a short hug. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re gettin’ out of here. That’s at least somethin’ to be thankful for at Thanksgivin’.”

  “You could come with me,” Luke said. With Rose at her side, leaving the brothel and Galena wouldn’t be quite so scary. She imagined earning enough money to buy a turkey for the two of them next Thanksgiving.

  “I don’t think my bosom is as easy to hide.” Rose lifted one side of her mouth into a crooked grin.

  “You wouldn’t need to.” Luke gestured down her body, at the men’s clothes. “I could take care of you.”

  Rose’s half-grin blossomed into a true smile. “Thanks, honey. You’re quite the gentleman already. As much as I hate livin’ here, I don’t think I’m cut out for a life like you’re plannin’. Always hidin’ ...” She shook her head.

  Luke nodded, but strangely, she didn’t feel as if she were hiding. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t ducking her head.

  As she made her way downstairs, heading for the front door instead of slinking out the back, a few customers were still standing at the pockmarked bar with its row of spittoons, celebrating Thanksgiving in their own way. Luke hoped that one day, she’d have something to be thankful for too.

  ###

  Grasping at Straws

  Independence, Missouri

  June 15th, 1847

  A pitchfork of soiled straw and horse apples almost hit Tess in the face.

  “Hey!” Tess flattened herself against one of the stalls. “Watch where you throw that!”

  Willie, the stable boy, grazed her with an indifferent glance. “Sorry,” he said, not even trying to sound as if he meant it. Without another look at her, he continued to muck the stalls.

  Tess’s gloved fingers tightened into a fist. This wasn’t the first time Willie had treated her so rudely. He never fetched her horse for her, never helped her into or out of the saddle, and never greeted her when she entered the stable. He knew that as a fallen woman, she had no way to enforce a more respectful treatment.

  Or so he thought.

  A smile curved Tess’s lips as she marched down the center aisle between two rows of stalls. Little does he know that it’s me who’s paying his wages. She passed one of the stalls, and her gaze fell on the water trough. Bits of straw and manure drifted on a murky sludge that had once been fresh water.

  Seems he doesn’t have any more respect for the horses than he does for me. She sent a sharp glance back at the young man. Fool. Her next stop would be her business partner’s office. Before the day ended, Willie would be an unemployed fool.

  This was just the last straw. She had talked to Donovan about Willie’s carelessness before, but whatever action Donovan had taken apparently hadn’t changed Willie’s work ethic.

  Tess continued down the aisle, checking the condition of the horses and stalls. Many of the stalls were empty. Business was slow, not just for the stable but for the brothel too. The masses of emigrants heading west had left Independence weeks ago, and the soldiers stationed at nearby Fort Leavenworth were still
fighting in Mexico.

  A picture of Luke’s earnest gray eyes flashed through her mind, and Tess sent a quick prayer to whatever God might be willing to listen to a whore. Please, keep Luke safe. Then she shoved the thought away. Her life had no room for sentimentalities.

  She reached out to open her mare’s stall when something caught her attention.

  In the empty stall next to her, right at the end of the aisle, straw rustled.

  Probably just a mouse stealing some corn for supper.

  But the warning tingle at the back of her neck kept her hand suspended over the stall door. Tess had learned to trust her instincts.

  There!

  The rustle sounded again. Something scraped against the wooden wall.

  Tess tensed. The Deringer under her riding skirts rested comfortingly against her thigh.

  Tess’s mare flicked her ears in the direction of the sounds but didn’t seem alarmed. Obviously, the mare was familiar with whatever was moving around in that stall.

  Maybe just a cat. Tess took two quick steps and peered over the stall door.

  The eyes that stared back at her didn’t belong to a cat. In one corner of the stall, a young woman huddled behind the feeding trough.

  Tess’s hand fluttered to her chest. She opened her mouth for a surprised shout.

  “No,” the young woman whispered. “Please. Don’t give me away. I have nowhere else to go.”

  “So you’re living in my stable, stealing food from the horses?” Tess pointed at the brownish carrot clenched in the girl’s hand.

  The girl hung her head. A mass of fiery red hair escaped from under a weather-beaten sunbonnet and fell like a curtain around her face.

  Heavy boots trudged toward them. “Who are you talking to?” Willie shouted down the aisle.

  The girl’s head flew up. She stared at Tess with wide eyes. Her full lips formed a silent “Oh, no.”

  Tess calmly turned around. “Just talking to myself. You know how we womenfolk are.”

  Willie spat out his stalk of straw and grunted in agreement. After one last glance back over his shoulder, he grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it out of the stable.

  When he had disappeared around the corner, Tess turned back around and beckoned to the red-haired girl still clinging to the feeding trough. “Come out of there.”

  “Please, don’t throw me out,” the girl said. She didn’t move from her hiding place. “Just one night. I promise I’ll be gone by the morning.”

  “And then?” Tess asked. “Where will you go?” She shook her head at herself. What do you care? Don’t you have enough girls to worry about?

  The girl’s slender shoulders slumped for a moment and then straightened. “I don’t know, but I’ll find a way.” Determination gleamed in her eyes.

  Find a way. In a town like Independence, there were few ways for a woman to survive on her own. Tess knew it better than anyone else did. Over the years, she had taken in more young women down on their luck than she could count. But not right now. At the moment, she could ill afford to feed another hungry mouth.

  The girl shifted and rose from behind the feeding trough.

  Tess’s glance fell on her swollen belly. Oh, Lord. She sighed. Make that two hungry mouths.

  For a moment, she wondered how the young woman, pregnant and all alone, had made it to Independence. Judging by the way she spoke, she had grown up in a well-off family back east. Even the worn clothing and the hungry look in the girl’s eyes couldn’t hide her manners and good education.

  Same old story. Tess sighed. I bet her family threw her out when they discovered she was going to have a child out of wedlock.

  The girl followed Tess’s gaze and covered her belly with soft-looking hands. “You said ‘my stable.’ Does that mean you own all this?” Awe and skepticism mingled in her voice.

  Tess gave a tired nod. I wonder if there’ll ever come a time when people won’t raise their eyebrows at the thought of women owning a business.

  The girl inched closer but stayed out of touching distance.

  She doesn’t trust people. Lately, Tess had wondered whether, after so many years of working in brothels, she had lost the ability to care about people. First Luke and now this young woman were proving her wrong. She knew better than to ask about the girl’s past, though. Maybe that was why the girl had come west. People here tended to ask fewer questions.

  “If you own the stable,” the girl glanced up at her, hope dancing in her eyes, “then maybe you need someone to sweep the floor and—”

  “Girl,” Tess said. “While I need a new stable boy, this is no work for a woman, especially not a woman who’s with child.” The citizens of Independence would never accept a female caring for their horses, and business was dragging as it was.

  “Then maybe—”

  “The only job I have to offer is not something that you’d want,” Tess said.

  The girl’s green eyes flashed. “I’ll do anything it takes.” She pressed her hands against her belly.

  Tess took in the red hair, the pretty face, and the porcelain skin. Underneath streaks of dirt and patched-up clothes, beauty was just waiting to be discovered. The young woman would bring in good money for the brothel once she was no longer with child. “No,” Tess said to the girl and to herself. “Not anything.”

  “Yes.” The girl held eye contact. “Anything.”

  The hopeful gaze resting on her sparked Tess’s anger. “Don’t look at me like I’m your salvation. Don’t you know who I am? What I am? Don’t you know why the stable boy can get away with throwing horse apples at me?”

  The girl blinked.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, don’t you understand? I’m a whore, girl. I own a brothel, and that’s the only job I can offer you.” She already had a cook and a woman to take care of the laundry, both former prostitutes who had become too old to entice men. She couldn’t afford to take in more women who didn’t earn their keep.

  Russet lashes lowered, and a blush spread over the girl’s fair skin. “Oh.”

  Tess swallowed against the bitter taste in her mouth. “Yeah. Oh.”

  When the blush receded, the girl looked up and met Tess’s eyes. “Anything it takes,” the girl said again.

  Guilt swept over Tess, and suddenly, she was the one who had to look away. Could she really condemn this young woman to a life like hers? But then again, was sleeping in stables and stealing food any better? If someone like Willie found her, there was no telling what would happen to the defenseless girl. At least if she kept an eye on them, the unborn baby would have a chance to survive.

  Tess stepped closer, and this time, the girl didn’t move away but stood her ground.

  “All right,” Tess said. “But if you work for me, there are rules involved.” She forced herself to focus on being a businesswoman.

  “Don’t steal your silverware?” A mischievous grin danced over the girl’s face, then disappeared as she waited for Tess’s reaction to her quip.

  Tess smiled. She’s got spunk. Good. It would help her survive life in a brothel. “Be discreet,” Tess said. “Keeping their secrets is what gives us power over our customers. A loose tongue can get you killed.”

  The girl nodded earnestly.

  Tess felt another twinge of guilt. “And you best not get any romantic notions about falling in love with a customer and being carried off to start a new life. That very rarely happens.”

  Once again, the girl nodded. Her full lips formed a line of pain but then quickly relaxed when she realized Tess was still watching her.

  She’s gonna be good at the kind of work we do. Maybe too good. Tess hoped the girl would grab at the first chance to leave the brothel and find something else she was good at.

  “Don’t worry,” the girl said. “Love is not for me.”

  Tess had heard that before. Luke had told her the exact same thing when Tess had warned her not to fall in love with her just because they shared a bed.

  “All
right.” Tess gave her a grim smile and opened the stall door separating them. “Last chance to change your mind.”

  Instead of answering, the girl stepped out into the aisle. One of her hands still rested on her belly. “Whatever it takes,” she said again.

  Tess sighed. “Then let’s go before Willie returns.” She grasped the girl’s elbow and led her out of the stable.

  Before they stepped out onto the street, the girl paused. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m not sure I’m doing you any favors.” Already, Tess began to regret her decision. The burden of responsibility rested heavily on her. Maybe she could find some light housework for the young woman until the baby was born, but after that, Tess couldn’t afford to let her stay if she didn’t entertain customers.

  Faces of regulars appeared before her mind’s eye, but she discarded them as too rough. For a moment, she thought of Luke and then laughed at herself. Aren’t you forgetting a little something? No, it was better to keep the girl away from Luke. She didn’t trust anyone else with Luke’s secret.

  When they paused to let a wagon pass, the girl offered her hand. “Nora Macauley.”

  “Tess Swenson.” Tess laid her hand into the unexpectedly firm grip of the girl. “I think,” she said as she steered Nora toward her new home, “you should use the name ‘Fleur.’”

  “Fleur? Why Fleur?”

  It certainly wasn’t because their customers were refined gentlemen fluent in French, but maybe Nora didn’t need to know that just yet. “Maybe because ‘straw’ wouldn’t sound as enticing as ‘flower,’” she said and plucked one of the yellow stalks out of Nora’s hair.

  Nora smiled. “Fleur it is.”

  Her smile was contagious, and Tess hoped Nora would never completely lose the sparkle in her eyes. “Come on. Hurry,” she said and crossed the street, “I have a stable boy to fire.”