The Mail Order Bride's Deception (18 page)

Maybe she should feel better that someone believed her about James, but she didn’t.  With a sigh, she turned her attention away from him and sat in the little chair by the window.  Back in her prison.  Trapped.  Just a doll to put on display to be used whenever a man wished.  The familiar sense of despair swept over her.

“Really now, Sadie, it can’t be too bad,” Jefferson said.  “If your mother had thrown you
out on the street, you would have died of hunger or cold.  At least this way, you have food, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back.”

“And no respect.”

“Respect?  That should be the least of your concerns.  At least that man didn’t kill you.”

He shut the door before she could respond.  She turned her attention to the window and stared at the people as they walked up and down the street.  How she envied them their freedom.  The women were happy.  Some of them were walking with their husbands.  She caught the way a couple of the men smiled at them and remembered
the way Al had smiled at her.

Her gaze went to her hand at the ring he gave her on Christmas day.  She traced the rose and leaves.  He had wanted it to be a reminder of their marriage, that when she looked at it, she would think of him.  And she would.  Every day for the rest of her life. 
She almost brushed away her tears, but this time she didn’t.  And soon, she couldn’t stop crying.

Chapter Eighteen

Daylight faded into
evening and Sadie hadn’t moved from her spot by the window.  Her tears had finally slowed to a simple trickle.  Her shirtwaist was drenched but she didn’t care.  Her life was over.  Had she not been so greatly loved, she might have been better off.  But knowing what she’d lost, she didn’t know if she could go on.

The door to her room opened.  The familiar footsteps of Jefferson’s shoes clanked across the hard floor.  “Madame noticed you didn’t come down for dinner,” he said.

“I’m not hungry,” she softly replied.

“I brought you your meal.” She heard him set the tray on the table by her bed.  “You must keep up your strength.  Madame has given you a reprieve for tonight, but tomorrow you’ll be expected to get back to work.”

He left the room and shut the door behind him.

Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against the window and closed her eyes.  If only James had shot her when he shot Al and Gilbert.  Then she could be with them.

She released her breath, another tear falling down her face.  She imagined, just for a moment, that she was back in the cabin nestled away in the wilderness.  She’d be rocking Gilbert to sleep in the chair, warm as the small fire in the cookstove continued burning.  Al would come in after tending to the animals and give her a smile that spoke volumes of his love for her.

She swallowed as more tears came.  It couldn’t be true.  Al and Gilbert couldn’t be dead.  But why would James lie about something like that?  He had murdered Hazel.  Why wouldn’t he murder others?

He could have murdered her, too.  He didn’t have to sell her back to Madame.  Maybe he wanted money, but what was eighty dollars when he stood to inherit much more than that?

Maybe he told her he killed Al and Gilbert so she wouldn’t run back to Rapid City.  But then what would Al think since she was gone?

She opened her eyes and sat up straight.  Maybe Al would think she went back here, to the brothel.  She wiped the tears from her cheeks.  That was silly.  He’d never believe she’d want to return here.  It was a horrible existence.  One that no woman should ever know.

But what if he didn’t know that?  He’d never been in one.  He didn’t know what it was like here.

She stood up, her legs stiff from the hours she’d spent sitting in the chair.  She worked the kinks out as she paced the room.  Maybe they weren’t dead.  She never saw their bodies.  Never heard gunshots.  She was unconscious the whole time, and when she woke up, she was on the horse.

She clasped her hands together and shook her head.  No.  It was impossible.  They couldn’t still be alive.  Wouldn’t she know it if they were?  Wouldn’t she feel something?  Was someone supposed to know if someone they loved died?

She tried to remember how it was with her father when he died.  He’d been working on a railway so her mother didn’t know right away.  But Sadie couldn’t remember if her mother suspected something was wrong or not.  It happened so long ago.

It was wishful thinking.  That’s all it was.  She stopped pacing and turned to the door.  But she never saw the bodies.  She never heard the gunshots.  If there was a chance, even a remote one, wasn’t it worth it to check?

Decision made, she went to the door and opened it, checking the hallway.  One of the prostitutes was taking a man to her room.  Sadie quickly put her head back in her room and closed the door almost all the way so they wouldn’t see her as they passed.  She held her hand over her nose so she wouldn’t smell the woman’s perfume or the smoke and brandy on the man’s breath.

When they had entered the woman’s room, she slipped out of hers and tiptoed down the hallway, ignoring the glaring red carpet as much as possible.  She made it to the top of the steps and listened as the men and women laughed
downstairs.  She could hear Madame offering the gentlemen more brandy and telling Jefferson to retrieve more cigars.

Sadie debated the best way to proceed.  If everyone was distracted down there, they might not notice her.  The parlor didn’t lead directly to the doo
r.  The door was in the narrow hallway.  But someone might see her.  She glanced back down the hall where her room was.  If she had something to climb down, she’d use her window.  Being as it was, she didn’t dare in case she broke a bone.

She’d just have to chance it.  Taking a deep breath, she slowly went down the stairs, mindful to listen for anyone who might be slipping into the hallway upstairs or
leaving the parlor.  So far, so good.  Everyone was content to stay where they were for the moment.

She picked up her pace and made it by the parlor door, but just as she reached the front door, Jefferson called out, “Going somewhere, Sadie?”

She grabbed the knob and flung the door open, but before she could even make it down the first step, Jefferson’s hand wrapped around her arm.  Hard.

“Nice try,” he said and pulled her back inside.  He shut the door and leaned against it.  “You know you can’t go out there.  From now on, you’ll never leave this place.  We won’t be taking our chances.”

“What’s going on?” Madame Eleanor asked as she hurried out of the parlor.  Her eyes widened.  “I should have known.” Slowing her steps, she approached them, crossing her arms.  “Haven’t you learned anything from your little escapade?”

“You don’t understand,” Sadie replied, wishing Jefferson would loosen his grip.  “I’m a married woman now.  I have no business being here.”

Madame chuckled.  “You have every business being here.  I paid for you.  Twice, might I add.  First with your mother.  Then from the man who used you and got tired of you.”

“He wasn’t my husband.” Sadie tried to pull her arm away from Jefferson
, but he only tightened his grip.  She winced but stopped fighting against him.  “Do the decent thing and let me go back to my husband and child.”

“The ones
you claimed were murdered?” Madame asked.

“The man who brought me here said he killed them, but…”

“But what?”

She glanced from
Madame to Jefferson, already knowing how ridiculous the whole thing seemed to them.  “I never saw their bodies.  I never heard the gunshots.  I didn’t confirm it.”

At that, Jefferson’s lips curled up.  “Let that be a lesson to you.  Make sure someone actually is a murderer before spouting off that they are.”

His fingers pinching her arm, he stormed over to the stairs, dragging her along.  “Please, just let me go back and see.  I need to know,” she pleaded.

“It’s too late for that,”
Madame snapped.  “I paid a handsome fee for you.  I don’t take the loss of money lightly.”

“Why is it always about money for you?” Sadie demanded and fought in earnest to get away from Jefferson.

“Restrain her,” Madame told him.  He raised his free arm to strike Sadie, but Madame shook her head and lowered her voice.  “Not her face.  Men will overlook bruises everywhere but the face.”

Jefferson put his arm down and shoved Sadie at the stairs.  She tumbled against them.

“Is there a problem, Madame Eleanor?” a man asked.

Sadie glanced over her shoulder at the thin figure with a handlebar mustache.  He left the parlor and walked over to them.  She didn’t remember his name.  Not that she ever cared to know any of their names.  It was easier if she didn’t.

“Not at all,” Madame replied with a smile.  “The girl’s had a little too much to drink and slipped.  That’s all.”

“I remember her,” he said in interest, his gaze focusing on her.

Sadie looked away and stood up.  At least Jefferson wasn’t holding her arm anymore.  She rubbed it, wondering how long it was going to be sore.

“She was away for
a while but has come back,” Madame said.  She went over to him and gestured to the parlor.  “Care to have another brandy?”

“I’ve had enough, thanks.” His gaze went back to Sadie.  “She’s lovely to look at.
  I would like to be with her tonight.”

Sadie bristled.  She never liked it when a man paid her a compliment like that, except for Al.  Daring to make eye contact with him, she spat, “I’m married.”

Jefferson took her arm again, and though he appeared to be gentle, the grip was tight.  He led her up the stairs.  She tripped another time, but he didn’t slow his pace.  By the time they were at her room, he threw her onto the floor and shut the door behind him.

“There will be no more of this nonsense,” he seethe
d.  “You have greatly upset Madame.”

“I don’t care,” she yelled even as tears filled her eyes.

“You should care.  Think about what you’re doing.  You have no money.  All you have are the clothes on your back.  Just how long do you think you’ll live out there?”

She wiped her tears away, her face hot from a mixture of anger and humiliation.  In her haste to leave this place, she hadn’t given any thought to money.  He was right.  She would have made it to the train station and realized she couldn’t get a ticket.

Jefferson muttered something under his breath but left the room, leaving her.  And this time, it was dark since the sun had set.  Shivering, she ran over to the small table by her bed and searched for the matches.  Once she found one, she lit the wick in the kerosene lamp and searched the room for anyone who might be hiding in the shadows.  It was unlikely, of course, but possible that someone had crept in here while she was gone.  Not all men wanted to pay and found a way into her room without Madame or Jefferson knowing.

She relaxed after she searched the room
and realized she was alone.  She set the kerosene lamp on the dresser.  Leaning against the dresser, she put her face in her hands.  There was no way she was getting out of this.  James had been very clever.  Too late, she realized she made the grave error in not demanding to see if Al and Gilbert were really dead.  But even if she had, he had her so heavily sedated for most of the trip that it’d been hard to think clearly.  And now she was here, mentally going through every chance she’d missed at getting away from him.

His plan had worked.  She was sufficiently trapped.  She had no
money, and there was no way Madame would let her go to one of her customers outside the brothel.  No doubt tomorrow, Jefferson would be putting a lock on her door from the outside so she couldn’t leave it without their permission.

Leaving right after Hazel died had been a huge risk.  It’d been the most daring thing she’d
ever done.  And not all risks paid off.  She’d known it when she took the chance and ran to the train station.  She let out a long sigh and lowered her hands.  This small room would be all she’d know from this moment on.  Trapped.  James’ plan had worked perfectly.  She had no way of getting to Al, and Al would believe she returned—willingly—to this place.

No wonder Hazel hadn’t made it.  Sadie could only guess the details of Hazel’s life, but she had enough of the pieces to know she’d faced a formidable enemy.  She wiped away another tear.  Did the doctor ever find out who she was?  Did he send word to Hazel’s family in Atlanta?  Or was Hazel buried in the cemetery nearby with no name or year of birth to mark her stone?

The door opened and she glanced over in time to see Madame. Madame entered and quietly shut the door behind her.  Her back against the door, she looked at Sadie.  “That little display down there was in bad taste, Sadie.  I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior again.  I’d bring one of the men up here tonight to remind you of why you’re here, but men don’t like it when prostitutes cry.  It makes them feel guilty.  Thanks to your little outburst down there, the gentleman in the hallway decided to leave.” She frowned at her.  “And he took a lot of money with him.”

Sadie turned her gaze from Madame.  “I won’t stop crying.  I should be with my husband and child.”

“It’s not good to live in delusions.  You need to accept the fact that you’re a prostitute and you’ll always be one.” Sadie shook her head, but Madame clucked her tongue.  “I can see this is going to be a lot of work.  You’ve forgotten everything Jefferson painstakingly taught you.”

“Painstakingly taught me?” Sadie snapped, looking back at her despite the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.  “I was the one who went through the pain of everything he did.”

“He’s much better than others in the business.  At least he told you about the cooking oil and ways to distract yourself so you didn’t have to think about what you were doing.  He even gives certain gentlemen sheaths to use.” She pointed at Sadie and approached her.  “You should be thankful for all of that.  Before I had him in my employment, my ladies didn’t live as long as they do now, nor were they as healthy.  I run the cleanest brothel in town.  Men pay good money to come here because they know that.  Would you rather go to Madame Marsha’s or be down at the saloon?”

“I’d rather be
home,” Sadie whispered.

“This is your home,”
Madame snapped then rolled her eyes.  “It’s just like having you here when you were a child.  All those lessons have been lost on you.  Eighty dollars was too much to pay.” She groaned and gave an irritated shake of her head.  “Well, it’s too late for regrets.  All we can do is move forward.  Tomorrow Jefferson will start retraining you.”

Madame’s meaning took a moment to sink in and Sadie shook her head.