The Women in Pants

by Stan Himes

  So as Mary left the seamstress shop the day before we all surprised her at the ranch, Sally thought a lot about helping her friend keep together something so beautiful. Then she thought of a way to do it that would also help her break free of the sad pattern she was locked into. She came to the bank and asked me to have lunch with her. While Mary and Katie visited with Jonas in Doc’s office, Sally told me her idea and asked about my willingness to help.

  “Before you answer,” she said, “let me say that I’m going no matter what. I need a fresh start, so whether it’s on a stagecoach or a cattle drive, I’m goin’.” I didn’t know about Henry at that time, but I understood what she meant about needing a fresh start. If there was a means to get away from turning down the dullards more interested in my father’s bank than me, I was for it. I suppose there’s a chance I would have been happy to please my parents and settle down in Secluded Springs with the right man—about the same chance of a stallion preferring to pull a wagon rather than run free. I was no stallion, but I was also no pack mule. I was ready to run free, even if I didn’t know where to or what for.

  I gave Sally my best smile. “Either way, I’m going with you.”

  Adding Ruth and Prudence to the scheme was easy. Anything that had a hint of spite toward her wandering husband appealed to Ruth, and Prudence would do anything that got her away from their little shack.

  Less than a day later, we were on horseback and heading toward the cattle herd.

  The basics of driving cattle are as simple as it gets (which begs me to say that’s why men are so good at it). Just box in the cattle and move them forward. We understood that. What we didn’t appreciate about the task until we tried it was that cattle aren’t always interested in being boxed in and moved forward. A long life of wandering around eating grass and brush would suit them just fine.

  Also, while the idea behind the job was easy, we would soon learn that the hard part was the physical toll. Spend a full day from sunup to sundown in the saddle, baking under the hot sun, choking on the dust-filled air and inhaling the foulness that longhorns can produce, and the seemingly simple task of moving cows from here to there becomes anything but.

  However, I’m getting ahead of myself. All we cared about that first morning was proving to Mary that she could put her faith in us. We rode past the corral and the empty bunkhouse out to one of the fields of grazing cattle. Most ignored us, but a few looked up with stern stares, mouths chomping on sweet grass, as if to say, “Keep moving. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

  “There,” Mary pointed. “That little group of eight. That’s our test. If the six of us can’t move a herd of eight from there to that ash tree yonder, then we surely can’t drive cattle to market.”

  “Seems simple enough,” said Sally.

  We all nodded agreement.

  And we all did nothing. I think it went through most of our minds that this was now something real. Not a single thing about it seemed all that difficult, yet it was a task and any task brings the risk of failure. As long as we didn’t move, we couldn’t let Mary down.

  A different thought went through Mary’s mind, a thought that was just as paralyzing. They’re waiting for me. I’m the leader now. It was a role she’d never experienced or even ever considered. At that moment a spark lit within her. The flint was her home and family and the steel was her memory of telling Katie that a woman will do whatever it takes.

  “Sally. Ruth. Loop around to the far side. Laurie and Prudence, take this side. Katie and I will push them forward.”

  Her voice may have warbled a bit, but I don’t recall it that way. It felt good to have our first orders, and we all moved into position. We went from nervous to eager and the cattle sensed the change. Two drifted ahead of Sally, but she pushed her horse around to coax them back to the center. That movement startled a steer and it rumbled ahead—exactly in the direction we wanted.

  “Follow that one!” shouted Mary from the rear of the grouping. The noise alarmed the remaining cattle and as we urged our mounts forward the cattle moved with us. We were doing it! We were herding cattle! It didn’t matter that it took six of us to move eight steers maybe 75 feet to a shade tree. All that mattered was a taste of success.

  I took a glance back at Mary. She was smiling, probably her first full smile since Jonas was injured. “Turn ’em left at the tree,” she shouted. “Let’s see if we can guide them back.”

  All that morning those eight steers were our guinea pigs. We moved them around the field and when one would try to break away, one of us always brought it back. Mary’s confidence grew and we looped in two more steers. Then a cow and a calf. We wore a path in the pasture and likely had our horses wondering if we ever planned to go anywhere. By the arrival of the noon sun our dresses were soaked with sweat and we didn’t mind at all. The calf squirted free between me and Prudence and I was about to chase it down when Mary shouted, “Let it go! That’s enough for now.”

  Leave it to Prudence to ask the question on all of our minds. “What do you think, Mrs. Bartlett? Satisfied with your new ranch hands?”

  Mary matched her movement from the early morning, once again gliding her head slowly from face to face. Then she nodded. “If you’re still willin’, then I am, too.”

  We were feeling more like cattlehands every second, so there were no hugs this time. Just smiles all around. Besides, we were on horses.

  We rode in silence back toward the house, a sense of triumph in the air. To any observer, we’d sure have been an odd-looking team. None of us had spent much time on horseback, mostly riding on buckboards. Now the bulk of us rode sidesaddle like ladies. Sally had the longest dress and it wasn’t easily noticeable that she straddled the horse like a man. Ruth’s dress rode up a little more and it was obvious by the little bit of skinny white leg exposed above her boot that she also rode straddle. The cattle didn’t appear scandalized by it.

  At the house, Mary was the first to dismount. We all had sort of lined up behind her and she gave us a good, hard stare.

  “I suppose I look as silly as the rest of you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Katie.

  “If you weren’t covered with dirt and sweat, you’d look more like you’re heading to a barn dance than a cattle drive. Not a one of us looks like a cattlehand.”

  “Maybe we need hats,” offered Sally.

  I pictured us looking splendid in fancy cowboy hats with wide brims and figured we might as well add another touch. “Oh, and a pretty little kerchief.”

  “Not what I had in mind,” said Mary. “Something we need even more.”

  Edward’s neck veins bulged like blood-filled ticks. “Pants?!!” His hands moved from his hips to the countertop. He needed the support. “But not for Jonas? For you?” He shook his head as if his brain had come unhitched and he needed to snap it back into place. “It don’t make no sense.”

  Mary started to speak but Edward wasn’t through trying to get his mind to comprehend what his ears were hearing. “You mean britches? For you? What are you, Calamity Jane?”

  “No, and I ain’t Joan of Arc neither. I simply want to purchase some work pants in my size.” She gestured to the window where we women were peeking in with interest. Naturally I was closest to the door and listening to every word. Katie’s eyes were wide. She wasn’t used to seeing her mother so worked up.

  “Oh, you mean material so you can sew up some work pants.”

  “No, I mean ready-made work pants. I’d love for Sally to sew us up a fine set, but there isn’t time.” She shifted her tone. “But maybe you’ve been so busy making sales lately that you don’t need our business.”

  “Now there’s no need to get on a high horse. You come in here asking for work pants that’ll fit a woman, you gotta expect… well, it just ain’t a phrase I heard before.”

  Ernestine had been looking on with interest. “There’s those newfangled blue ones that came in from San Francisco, Grandpa.” She turned to Mary. “They’re called wai
st overalls. Made out of denim.”

  “They’d be good work pants at that,” added Edward. “Thick. The miners call them blue jeans.”

  Mary pointed toward us at the window. “You got sizes for my cattlehands?”

  “What? Oh, now, Mary, I don’t have time for games. Business is tough enough these —”

  “It’s no game, Edward. I’ve got a ranch to save and the only ranch hands available are those you see right there. Now I need six pair of those waist overalls.”

  “Mary –”

  “Do you have an extra skinny pair for Ruth?”

  Edward threw up his arms in exasperation. “All right, I’ll play along. Go pick out six pair.” Mary turned toward the trousers but had to stop when Edward tossed out an ominous “However” that hung in the air like a frost moon. He laid out his conditions. “I need cash up front. I don’t give credit for hare-brained schemes.”

  “But —”

  “I thought Michaels was a bit harsh with his banking decision, but it seems a chunk more sensible now.”

  “Edward —”

  “No cash, no pants.”

  Outside the store, we all surrounded Mary. First she was fuming. “He’ll only take cash.” Then she was forgiving. “Can’t blame him, I guess.”

  “Should’ve robbed the bank before I left,” I mumbled.

  Cash money was always hard to come by, but especially of late with a lot less people spreading it around. We stood in silence for just a moment, not yet thinking but getting our minds set on the idea of thinking, when a voice came from just around the corner of the store.

  “Mrs. Bartlett?”

  We could see part of a woman’s face peeking around, most of it in shadow. I caught a glimpse of chestnut hair and a blue eye, but had no idea who it was. Fortunately, Mary recognized her.

  “Pearl? Pearl, come on out.”

  Now before I relate any more of that part of our story or the events that will follow, I feel compelled to offer up a warning. Up till now, things have been pretty cozy. You may have read about the harshness of Jonas’s trampling or seen some grouchiness or wished my father hadn’t taken a hard line, but overall everyone you’ve heard about has been cordial. That’s not me writing it that way; it’s just the way things were. And as I’m committed to sharing this story as close to the truth as my capabilities allow, I must warn you that some harsh language and some indelicate conversations and descriptions about the… well, let’s just say the curvy parts of a woman… will begin occurring soon. I am a decent woman, but also a truthful one and I promised all involved that this would be a truthful account. I’m sure there’s nothing in this story that an adult cannot abide, but I put out this warning so that if you’re reading aloud to young ones you’ll know in advance to replace some words or skip over certain parts. I thank you for indulging this interruption and return you now to Pearl’s appearance before the women outside Mickel’s General Store.

  “Why it’s that, that whore!” bellowed Ruth with a volume surprising from a woman the size of my leg. There was fire in her eyes and I think she might have hauled off and walloped Pearl in the nose if Mary hadn’t asserted her newfound leadership status.

  “Hush up, Ruth. There’s no good to come from that.” It likely also helped that Mary positioned herself between Ruth and Pearl. As Pearl stepped out from the shadow, Mary moved closer. Ruth was right on her tail.

  “I’m sorry to be talking with you in public.”

  “It’s fine, Pearl. Go on.”

  “It’s just that… I’d like to join your drive.”

  Ruth’s mouth was too dry to spit, but her scoff was loud and clear.

  “I can ride good,” Pearl continued. “I don’t eat much.”

  “Ain’t no room for the likes of you!” Ruth roared again. If we’d known more about being cattlehands, we’d have known to pull her away and let the boss handle things. But we didn’t know much, so we watched as Mary silenced Ruth with a hard stare.

  Though Pearl’s eyes were on the ground, it was clear she was seeing the past. “I don’t blame you for hatin’ me, Ma’am. It’s part of why I’d like to go where nobody knows me.” She looked up at Mary with pure sincerity. “I’ll work hard. And I can pay my own way.” She reached into the top of her dress and pulled out a handful of cash. The whole lot of us had the same flashing thought: there’s good money in sin. She held it out to Mary. “Ninety-three dollars I’ve saved. You can have it if you’ll take me on.”

  Mary looked at the pile of bills, then into Pearl’s eyes, then into our eyes. Then she smiled. “Come on, ladies. We’re going shopping.” She grabbed the money from Pearl’s hands and motioned Ruth to the doorway. Ruth was too steamed up to give Pearl the cold shoulder.

  The rest of us had varying reactions. Sally didn’t pay Pearl much mind. I can’t say I was comfortable with Pearl as a team member, but I gave her credit for being up front about her desires and in particular for having cash money. Katie just did whatever her mother told her and walked into the store without a look at Pearl. Prudence was unsure how to react, as part of her was thrilled about the money and part of her was troubled by her mother’s reaction to Pearl. It was clear that Ruth would be the hardest to convince that adding Pearl was anything but the worst decision of Mary’s life.

  As we entered the store, Pearl held back. Mary was the last to enter and turned around to Pearl with an inquiring look. After a swallow of hesitation, Pearl spoke up. “Never been through the front door.”

  Mary smiled and held out her hand. “Come on. You’re one of us now.” The most vicious pain imaginable couldn’t have brought tears to Pearl’s eyes faster than that moment of tenderness. To be treated as a normal human being was a rarity for Pearl. But to be welcomed? To have a respected woman reach out to her? She had no memory of such kindness. Even if she never experienced it again, she’d hang onto this instant for the rest of her life.

  She took Mary’s hand and followed her into the store.

  The last time Mickel’s General Store had known such squeals of utter giddiness, a family passing through had brought their twelve kids in for candy. The waist overalls were made for men, but we combed through the shipment to find sizes as close to our needs as possible. We added cotton work shirts to our wardrobe and took turns changing in the back room. I had never known such comfort existed, and I wasn’t alone in my thinking.

  “No wonder men dress like this,” said Katie as she admired herself in the single mirror.

  We were all admiring ourselves and each other. You see, a dress that’s tailor-made like one of Sally’s can give you a reasonable idea of woman’s figure. And certainly a floosie’s outfit like Ellie wore in Charlie’s saloon left little to the imagination. But most dresses were made to cover, not display. Mary had made pleasant dresses for her and Katie, but nothing that would show off their womanly features. Ruth was no hand at sewing and had little fabric to work with, so the dresses she and Prudence wore were only slightly more refined than sacks. My parents had purchased fine-made outfits for me, but you could bet the last nickel to your name that my father wasn’t about to have his daughter in anything but the most conservative clothing. Now here we were, our new shirts tucked into our new trousers right at the waist. Even as tiny as she was, Ruth had hips! Sally’s shirt sloped out from her neck and took a lot of fabric to slope back into her waist, where her pants sloped right back out again — as fine an hourglass figure as you can imagine. And Pearl! Oh my. It was easy to see how that wad of cash wasn’t at risk of falling through.

  Even Ruth was smiling for the moment. She couldn’t take her eyes off Prudence and Katie. They’d walked into the store as girls, but now she saw them as women. “You two are a vision, I swear.”

  We all felt like visions, and poor Ernestine stood there with her plain face and plain dress feeling like an outsider in her own store. Mary was the only one of us able to keep a practical mind. “Hope they’re durable. It’s one outfit apiece for the whole drive.” Edward’s pric
e of $1.25 per pair was hard to swallow, but not as hard as a cattle drive wearing dresses.

  While Ernestine took it all in, Edward was half hiding his eyes and half unable to look away. He knew us all well, including Pearl, who he’d served through the back door on occasion. Something about seeing us in a different kind of clothing seemed to heat him up. Sweat dotted his forehead. His mouth was dry. He kept putting his fingers to his eyes and then spreading them apart to give us another gaze that, in turn, inspired more dots of sweat. When I later asked him to recall the moment, he said only that he must’ve been bothered by our shameful display. I think he was bothered all right, but in an entirely different way. Edward was old, but not that old.

  In the back corner by the mirror, Pearl stood transfixed by her reflection. Though she was still a young woman, years of shame and self-loathing had left their marks. There was a hard edge to her cheekbones, a bit of hollowness to her eyes, a slouch to her shoulders. None of those traits disappeared because of new pants and a shirt, but the image of herself in that mirror had knocked back some of the walls she’d built around herself. She was lost in peaceful contemplation. She glowed.

  Katie was drawn to her. “Miss Pearl? You okay?”

  “I feel… I feel brand new.”

  Leave it to Ruth to break the reverie. She grabbed Katie by the arm and pulled her away. “Changin’ her clothes don’t change her ways. You keep away from that man stealer.”