Soiled Dove (4 page)

“RETTA! WAIT UP!” Amelia called out. The puffiness on her bottom lip had gone down considerably, but the remnants of bruises remained around her eyes and there was only so much make-up could do.

Loretta paused and looked in the window of the mercantile store a few blocks from Jack’s establishment. Some very nice material was on display in the window. She hadn’t seen it the last time she had been to the business district and it would make a beautiful dress.

When Amelia reached Loretta, she was out of breath. Taking her by the arm, Loretta said, “Look, Amelia. Isn’t that cloth beautiful?”

“I guess,” Amelia shrugged.

“What’s wrong?” Loretta said, resting her parasol on her shoulder and twirling it as she smiled at the men passing them on the sidewalk.

“I…I can’t do this anymore, Retta,” Amelia said.

“Do what?”

“You know what. How can you stand it? All those filthy, panting old men touching you and sweating all over you every night. It’s disgusting. I hate it,” the young woman frowned.

“Jack has put you back as a bar hostess, Amelia.

No one’s going to pant or sweat on you there. At least not as much.” Loretta looked around absently.

“How can you do it, Retta?”

Her eyes flashing, Loretta looked sharply at the younger woman. “I’m doing what I have to do, Amelia. Jack saved my life. I could have become a crib girl to survive instead. You think you’d like that better? Having men who have never had a bath in their miserable lives and willing to fuck anything half alive climbing into your bed for two bits?”

“Well, I never thought…”

“Don’t you ever judge me, girl, you hear. I almost have enough money saved to get out of here and not you or anyone else is going to take that away. If this is what I have to do for now, then I will. Once I leave here no one will ever know what I did in the past.”

Amelia laughed. “Jack’ll never let you leave.

You’re his woman and you know it.”

“No one owns me, Amelia. Not Jack Coulter. Not anyone. Understand?” Loretta said forcefully.

“But those men…what they want you to do to them…or do to you…,” Amelia shivered.

“You have to shut it out of your mind and remember your goal, Amelia,” Loretta said gently as she patted the girl’s arm. “Now let’s go inside and look at that material.”

It was true that Jack Coulter wanted his girls to look good both inside and outside his establishment.

He considered himself a benevolent brothel owner, providing unreported medical care should any of his girls be beaten up, contract a disease or accidentally become pregnant. Considering that Loretta and the other girls serviced him for no charge in exchange for his medical treatment, she wasn’t sure “Doc”

Southard was even a real doctor. Jack hired a seamstress to keep them all well clothed and provided more than enough food and drink for their comfort.

He knew where his bread was buttered, but he still didn’t countenance any back talk from any of them, including Loretta. It was also true she was his favorite and he rarely visited the other girls in his establishment. During the day Jack spent time with his wife and children, returning to his business only in the evenings. He was a handsome man with a smooth way of talking his way out of any situation and into any woman’s bed.

Loretta knew she would have to keep Amelia from complaining very much. She had seen what happened when Jack lost his temper. It had been enough to keep Loretta in line more than once, no matter how much Jack enjoyed being in her bed. If Jack actually paid for her services she could have already been gone. Just a few more months, that was all she needed. The boost in her savings, thanks to the generosity of Jo Barclay the week before, brought her even closer to the realization of her plans to leave St Joseph. She didn’t trust the other girls enough to let them in on her plans and wished she hadn’t said anything to Amelia. The girl was obviously terrified and would do anything to save her own neck.

Amelia and Loretta browsed through the mercantile, talking and giggling as they went. Loretta chose to ignore the glaring looks from the wife of the dry goods owner. Her money was as good as anyone else’s and she frankly didn’t care what other people in St. Joe said about her behind her back. She tried to resist, but kept returning to the material in the front window.

“May I help you?” a shrill voice behind her asked.

Smiling thinly at the woman’s severe face, Loretta said, “Yes, although I’m sure you’d rather not. How much is this material?”

“Two dollars a yard,” the woman replied.

“For everyone or just for me?”

“It’s imported from Europe.”

“For that price someone must have swam it over here on their back,” Loretta said, causing a giggle to escape from Amelia.

“Wh…,” the woman began.

“But it looks like a fabric befitting a lady,” Loretta said quietly. “I’ll take two yards. And make sure you measure it accurately, please. I wouldn’t want to have to return for more and upset your delicate sensibilities.”

Loretta walked away as the woman pulled the bolt of fabric from the window and carried it toward a cutting table. She was muttering to herself as she unrolled the fabric from the bolt.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice said, interrupting her mumbling.

“What?” the storekeeper’s wife asked curtly.

The tone of the woman’s voice startled Hettie and she took a step back.

“I’m sorry, my dear. What can I do for you?” the storekeeper’s wife asked more pleasantly when she saw the bookish-looking woman staring at her.

“Do you have any scented soaps here?” Hettie asked quietly.

“Yes. We just received a new shipment a few days ago with some lovely new fragrances. Jasmine is a new one. Let me show you where they are.”

Abandoning the bolt of material, the older woman led the way to the far end of the store.

The owner of the mercantile stepped from the back storage room carrying a box of goods and set them on the counter. Loretta glanced up from the patterns on a nearby rack and smiled. Rounding the counter he walked up behind the diminutive young woman. “Find anything you like, Miss Loretta?” he asked in a low voice.

“Why yes, I did, Hiram. Thank you.” Loretta smiled without looking at the older man. He was a familiar customer and having met his wife on a number of visits to his store she could see why he might look elsewhere for pleasure. “Your wife will be cutting some of that new material for me as soon as she gets around to it.”

Hiram O’Toole glanced at the material lying on the cutting table. “That color will look wonderful on you. It matches you complexion,” he said. A ruddy blush made its way up his neck as Loretta turned toward him and curled her lips in a smile.

“Why, thank you, Hiram. That was very sweet,”

she said seductively, looking up at him. “Two dollars a yard is a little more expensive than I had planned for. Once it’s sewn, you’ll have to tell me how it looks on me.”

“Two dollars?” Hiram asked, practically having to wipe drool from his lips.

“Yes, that’s what Mrs. O’Toole said it would be,”

Loretta said innocently.

“Mrs. O’Toole was mistaken, Miss Loretta. It’s only one dollar a yard. If you’d like I would be happy to cut the length for you.”

“That would be extremely kind of you, Hiram.”

Loretta followed Hiram to the cutting table and watched as he measured out the two yards, plus a healthy extra half yard to ensure the cut was straight.

As he smoothed the material over the table he glanced up occasionally and admired the soft curves and lines of Loretta’s body. He couldn’t afford to visit Jack Coulter’s establishment often, but when he did he always requested Miss Loretta.

“What are you doing?!” Mrs. O’Toole’s shrill voice broke the relative quiet of the store.

“I’m cutting this material for a customer, my dear,” Hiram said calmly.

She lowered her voice as she walked up to her husband. “She’s a whore, Hiram O’Toole. She could have waited until respectable customers were taken care of.”

Loretta bit her tongue and clenched her hand tightly around the handle of her parasol.

“She’s a customer,” Hiram restated. “As far as I know her money is as good as anyone else’s.”

Picking up the material, Hiram folded it and when he was sure his wife wasn’t looking, he cast a wink in Loretta’s direction. Loretta and Amelia followed him to the cash register, ignoring the daggers Mrs.

O’Toole was sending their direction. Loretta took four bills from her purse and slid them across the counter toward Hiram.

“But I said the material was…,” he began.

“I don’t wish to cause a problem for you with your wife, Mr. O’Toole,” Loretta said.

Sliding two dollars back toward her, he said, “The price I told you was the correct one, ma’am. I won’t have my wife cheating customers and giving my business a bad name.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Hiram. You, indeed, are a true gentleman.”

As Loretta picked up her package of material and turned to leave she almost ran into a young woman in her mid twenties wearing a conservative green dress and horn-rimmed glasses. “I’m sorry,” Loretta said, stepping aside.

“Now where?” Loretta asked as she and Amelia stopped onto the boardwalk in front of O’Toole’s Mercantile.

“I don’t know,” Amelia shrugged. “I don’t have any money of my own.”

Linking her arm with Amelia’s, Loretta said,

“How about I buy you a sarsaparilla?”

“I’d like that,” Amelia said, smiling brightly.

“Me, too,” Loretta said as they made their way through horses and wagon traffic on the dusty street toward a local eating establishment.

Loretta slid into a booth and settled herself before taking a long draw on the straw of her drink. “Damn, this tastes wonderful.”

“Better than whiskey,” Amelia said.

They chatted for a few minutes, laughing and gossiping about some of their customers. Loretta was looking absently out the front window, when a voice broke into her thoughts. “Excuse me.”

Loretta turned and saw the young woman she had seen not long before in the mercantile. “Yes. May I help you?”

“May I join you for a few minutes?” the woman asked. “There don’t seem to be any other available seats.”

Loretta stood and moved to Amelia’s side of the booth. “It’s your reputation, honey,” she smirked.

The woman set a small package of soap on the seat and cleared her throat. “My name is Hettie Tobias.”

“What can we do for you, Hettie Tobias?” Loretta asked, taking another sip of her drink.

“I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation with that woman at the mercantile.”

“Really,” Loretta said, glancing at Amelia.

“It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, but I wanted to tell you I thought her behavior was reprehensible,”

Hettie said indignantly. “For her to insinuate you were a…a whore was uncalled for.”

“It’s the truth,” Loretta smiled. The look on Hettie’s face made her laugh. “Don’t worry, honey.

I’m used to it.”

“Well, I must say, you’re lovely and certainly don’t look like I would have imagined.”

“What do you think a whore looks like?” Loretta asked, amused.

“Retta!” Amelia hissed.

“Excuse me. Wherever are my manners?” Loretta smiled. “My name is Loretta Digby and this is my friend, Miss Amelia Benson.” She paused for a moment before adding, “She’s new to the trade.”

“Are you a..a…? Oh my. You can’t be more than a child,” Hettie managed.

“Amelia is a hostess,” Loretta said.

“I’m actually just passing through St. Joseph,”

Hettie said, changing the subject rather abruptly. “I’m on my way west to teach at a small school.”

“Congratulations,” Amelia said.

“Thank you. I guess,” Hettie said. “I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing.”

“Where you goin’?” Loretta asked.

“Trinidad in the Colorado Territory.”

“Oh, it’s real pretty there,” Amelia enthused. “At least that’s what I heard from a gentleman last month.”

“Do you know anything about what it’s like in the west?” Hettie asked. “I mean, you must have met men and women from there.”

“I have,” Loretta nodded with a frown. “The men are a fairly unwashed group. And a little…um…,”

Loretta searched for the right word.

“A little what?” Hettie asked with concern in her voice.

“Um…eager, I guess. Many of them haven’t seen or smelled a woman in quite a while.”

“Oh, God!” Hettie breathed, resting her forehead on her hands.

“What made you decide to go west anyway?”

Amelia asked.

“The literature I’ve read makes it sound rather romantic. Running off to a completely different and unknown environment in the wilderness. Seeing things I would never see otherwise.”

“Ain’t you scared of Indians or train robbers?”

Amelia asked. “I heard they even stop the trains and take the women with them for…you know.”

“Oh, don’t be so damned melodramatic, Amelia,”

Loretta frowned. “Seems to me the west would be a wonderful place to build a new life.” Turning to Hettie she said, “Perhaps you will meet a decent man, get married, and raise a family.”

“I have a layover here in St. Joseph,” Hettie said.

“So I have a few days to decide whether I want to truly go any farther or not.”

“I hate to say it, honey, but you should have thought about all of that before you picked up and left home,” Loretta said.

“I know,” Hettie nodded. “Maybe I’ll find someone else at Mrs. Covington’s Rooming House who can tell me more.”

As Amelia and Loretta slid out of the booth, Loretta rested a hand on Hettie’s shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you decide will be the right decision for you. But once you make a decision don’t let yourself be turned back by doubts. Your heart will know the right thing to do.”

Hettie looked at her with a puzzled look. “My grandmother always told me to follow my heart.”

“Well, I hope I look a damn sight better than your grandmother, sweetie,” Loretta laughed as she turned and left the eatery.

Chapter Four

AMELIA JUGGLED AN armload of packages into the front entryway of Jack’s establishment. Loretta giggled as Amelia struggled to keep the packages containing Loretta’s purchases from slipping. The poor girl, who was eager to please, attempted to keep them under control until she reached the table in the middle of the parlor floor.