Much Ado About Madams (20 page)

She’d never figure that man out, but he’d saved her from casting off the only shred of respectability she had. And she would have given him everything if he had wanted it. She should thank him, but for some reason, she felt a lot more disappointment than gratitude.

* * * * *

Reese nearly forgot his Stetson as he kicked broken furniture out of his path to the front door, but luckily he spied it in the corner. He retrieved it, jammed it on his head, and made his way to the porch, not seeing anyone. He knew they were there, but it was like they stood in one of those daguerreotypes instead of being real, breathing people.

Miss Sharpe was real, though. Damn! The last thing he wanted was to get mushy over some high-flying, respectable woman!

Yup, she was high-flying, all right, in more ways than one.

“
Your bonnet’s a might crumpled there, boss,” Gus observed.

Fannie laughed. “His hat might be a little bent, but I bet his other parts ain’t.”

Reese scowled at their poor attempts at conversation and stomped out to the barn.

Women!

* * * * *

The next day, Fannie called the Comfort Palace whores into the office a few minutes before class time.

“
I’d hoped to come up with a way to get Reese and Miss Sharpe to admit that they loved each other so they’d wanna hitch up. Those two are a hell of a lot more stubborn than any of us thought.”

And they hadn’t even dealt with the little detail about Miss Sharpe’s mama killing Reese’s daddy. This whole job had been about as easy as matching up a bullfrog with a lima bean, what with Miss Sharpe stringing Reese up by the boot.

Fannie waited for the women to be seated, noting that they all sat like Miss Sharpe had taught them, even when she wasn’t looking. Petunia raised her hand and Fannie nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

“
He’s falling for her—I just know he is.” Petunia grinned. “Did you see the way he swooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs? Why, it was just about the most romantical thing I ever did see.” Petunia crossed her hands over her heart and sighed.

“
But we don’t know what happened betwixt them in her room, though,” Fannie reminded the ladies. “Reese came charging outta there hell-bent for election.”

Felicia stood and everyone looked at her, waiting for her to speak. Finally, she said, “A man just doesn’t get that mad unless he’s in love. I don’t think love is the problem. I think they’re both just plain stupid.” She sat down.

The room quieted, then Fannie saw Trinket raise her hand. “Go ahead, Trinket.”

“
I think they’re both too damned smart to get married. After all, she can’t be a suffragist if she has bawling kids hanging from her skirts, and he can’t run no whorehouse with a respectable wife and a litter of young ‘uns.”

“
We don’t want him to run a whorehouse,” Fannie reminded her.

“
But he don’t know that.”

“
No,” replied Chrissy, “but if he loved her, he wouldn’t give a shit, would he?”

The ladies murmured their agreement.

Holly slowly raised her hand, her gaze darting at each woman like they might jump up and smack her one. Fannie didn’t know if that girl would ever be anything but timid, no matter how much she worked with her. “Stand up and speak, Holly.”

She stood, fidgeting with a lock of hair. “I think he needs to save her,” she said quietly.

“
What?”

“
I said, I think he needs to save her. She saved him—well, not really, but she tried to save him. A man needs to feel like a man. That’s what you keep telling me. She saved him, so he needs to save her. Right?” She sat down and folded her hands on her lap.

“
By golly, I think she’s right,” agreed Sadie. “He probably got his manly feelings wounded last night, him hanging by his boot and all.”

The whores laughed. After the room quieted, Fannie asked them, “Just how do you think we oughtta convince him to save her, when she ain’t in no danger?”

“
I’d say it only matters if he thinks she’s in danger,” Felicia noted. “With Hank due back in Dickshooter anytime now, Reese wouldn’t have a moment’s doubt that the old bastard would do Miss Sharpe dirty.”

“
So what are you thinking, then?”

“
That we have one of the twins capture Miss Sharpe and hide her, then have Reese rescue her.”

Fannie nodded her agreement, although she had her qualms. “And just how do we get Miss Sharpe and one of the twins out of town?”

Felicia didn’t come up with an answer. Finally, Holly raised her hand again, and stood before Fannie had a chance to call on her. Maybe there was some hope for the girl, after all.

“
We could tell her that there’s a suffragist meeting in Silver City.” Holly sat quickly and folded her hands on her lap, as if she’d never stood in the first place.

“
Too far. We need both twins here during working hours,” Fannie reminded her. “But the suffragist meeting would work—we just need to figure out where.”

“
How ‘bout Oreana?” Felicia suggested. “She’ll be safe from Hank, because he’s in Montana and won’t be back for a month.”

“
No, I think Silver City would work fine,” Fannie said. “Reese has business in Silver, so if we have Gus take her, Reese would probably take over and send Gus back. That way, we wouldn’t be shorthanded.”

Petunia made a mad dash for the door.

Fannie caught her arm. “Where the hell do ya think you’re going?”

“
I have to take a bath!”

Felicia snorted. “The stage must be due in today,” she commented above the women’s giggles. “And stagedriver.”

“
Go sit down, Petunia,” Fannie ordered. “You’ll have plenty of time after class to smell purty. Logan won’t be here for another couple of hours yet.”

* * * * *

All the ladies stopped laughing when Lucinda entered the office. Finally, she thought, they understood how to behave in a classroom.

“
Good afternoon, class.”

No response. She surveyed each face, only to find innocent expressions. “Before we start, do you know when the stage comes in next?”

Petunia’s hand shot up. “This very afternoon!”

“
All we have to do is keep track of Petunia’s baths,” murmured Felicia.

“
It’s a hell of a lot better than smelling her,” Trinket observed.

“
Enough! We don’t question a lady’s bathing habits.” But even Lucinda had noted that Petunia’s baths tended to correspond with the arrival of the stage.

“
Today’s lesson is about the Civil War.”

Fannie shook her head. “There ain’t no reason we need to know any more about that.”

Lucinda shot her best schoolteacher glare at Fannie. So now that the ladies were able to read, they wanted to plan the lessons, too. Not in this classroom.
She
was the teacher, and
she’d
determine the lessons for the day, especially after yesterday’s debacle. “Of course there is, and we’re going to learn it.”

Before Fannie had a chance to speak again, Lucinda began the lecture. “The union of states was threatened . . .”

Felicia broke in. “That depends on how you look at it.”

“
I ain’t a Yank or a Reb,” Fannie said. “I’m just a whore, trying to get some education. So I don’t look at it any particular way, ‘cepting war is sure hard on my customers.”

Trinket nodded. “We don’t want to talk about the war. Hell, there’s still idiot men out there that ain’t too sure it’s over, the way they act. Them Texas cowpunchers act like the South won, and you get ‘em together with some Yankee miners, you got yourself some trouble, just like last night.”

Fannie pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yup. Out here, men kill other men over money and women. That’s it. It’s easy. In war, no one knows why men kill other men ‘cepting the leaders. Instead of killing one man, they make thousands of men kill thousands of other men, all so’s the leaders can have even more money and women. The only thing the other men get is dead.”

“
Hello, ladies!” Reese took off his hat as he strode into the room, carrying two good-sized boxes. “Having a little meeting?”

The sight of him turned Lucinda’s legs to liquid, and words refused to form. The kiss—one kiss, and she had wanted more. She fanned herself with the lesson plan paper.

Fannie spoke up. “We was about finished.” She stood and motioned for the others to do so. “Trinket, you can have an extry hour each day to mend the curtains and such. I’ll help Gus fix up the tables and chairs. Felicia, you’re in charge of fixing the chinks in the floor, and Chrissy, I want you to get Midas to make damned good and sure that the chandelier don’t crash on our heads. Petunia, you can go get your bath.” She waved them out of the room. “Get along, now.”

Thinking discretion—escape, more accurately—was the best plan, Lucinda made her excuses. “I’ll help Sadie with supper.”

Fannie winked at her. “You do that.”

She
knew
! Fannie knew everything! Lucinda hurried to the door. But Reese blocked the doorway with the bundle in his arms.

“
No, stay.”

Reese handed Lucinda one of the boxes. “This is for you.”

Lucinda eyed it suspiciously. “For me?” Why would he get her anything? It couldn’t be the school supplies because he didn’t even know what she’d ordered.

“
Go ahead, unwrap it,” he urged.

A gift? Had he purchased a gift for her? Until Trinket had given her the blue dress, no one had ever given her a gift except Miss Hattie, who’d given her second-hand clothes. They were decent, but used, nevertheless. Then there were the sachets that the students at Miss Hattie’s School for the Refinement of Young Ladies received every Christmas.

But never, ever had anyone given her a gift that came wrapped. She ran her finger over the string.

“
Are you going to unwrap it, or stare at it all day?”

She glanced up at Reese, who, magically, stood beside her. A tremor ran up her spine at the sight of his warm eyes and, well, shoulders.

He pulled a pocketknife out of his vest, unfolded it, and offered it to her, handle first. “Cut the string with this.”

“
Oh, no! If I untie it, I can use it for other things.
Waste not, want not
, you know.”

“
Open the damned thing, then.” He folded the knife and tucked it in his pocket.

Her fingers fumbled as she untied the knot, but finally the string fell from the package. She unwrapped the paper carefully, so as to not tear it, only to find another layer of brown paper encasing the mysterious object. If only he’d quit watching her.

When she painstakingly removed the second layer of paper and opened the flaps on the box, she discovered a most wondrous sight.

A beautiful green evening dress! She stared at it a moment, then couldn’t resist touching it. She carefully removed it from the paper and held it up to herself. Oh dear, it was much too low in the front for any decent woman to wear. But the beautiful lace and pearls around the neckline and sleeves surpassed anything she’d ever owned before, even the dress Trinket had recently given her.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t possibly accept such a gift from any man, especially a brothel owner. Most especially from one who made her insides melt like honey every time she caught a glance at him.

“
My, ain’t that pretty?” exclaimed Fannie.

Lucinda winced inwardly. Fannie looked exceedingly pleased and so did Reese. But such a personal gift would never be condoned by polite society.

She put the dress down and turned toward him. “I . . .”

Reese smiled. She wished he wouldn’t do that. A smile like that from him could turn her into a blithering idiot in one second flat.

“
Look under that tissue paper—there’s more.”

She did, and pulled out a red and yellow striped parasol. Bewildered, she held it up, staring.

* * * * *

Reese watched as Lucinda stood with one eyebrow raised, staring at the green and gray parasol like it was a new breed of porcupine. Maybe he shouldn’t have purchased the extras, but he thought all ladies liked matching doodads to go with their dresses.

“
It goes with the dress.” He stood his ground but would’ve preferred to be just about anywhere else—fighting bears, maybe.

Mankind would never figure out females. At this point, his prospect looked dim. Lucinda’s eyes had lit up like a Fourth of July firecracker when she first held the dress up to her sweet bosom, but she seemed reluctant to take it. It did match the swatch of material Fannie had given him—Mrs. Bulworth had assured him so.

Strange thing, too, she acted like he’d stepped out of bounds by buying her the damned thing. Of course that couldn’t be true since she’d given him the money to buy it in the first place. Well, indirectly. He’d refused the money Fannie had offered.

He watched her lay the parasol back into the box so gently that the paper didn’t make a sound. She sent a glance to Fannie as horrified as any he’d ever seen, reminding him of a soldier’s first look at battle. Apparently, she didn’t like what he’d bought and her gentility prevented her from saying so.