Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West)

by Shirley Kennedy

  Hiram stared at his sister. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You mean you actually like working in a brothel?”

  Florrie flopped her hands out. “I’m here, aren’t I? I will doubtless go straight to hell for saying the forbidden word, but I also enjoy the sex.” She broke into a wicked little grin. “I’ve shocked you. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.” She came back to the table and sat down, her expression suddenly somber. “I know how you feel, and I’m sorry that you’ve come all this way for nothing. I’m sorry about Ma and Pa, too. You’ll have to tell them—” Her voice caught, but she quickly went on, “But this is my life now. Please be happy for me. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  Up to this moment, Sarah had blocked the truth from her mind. Now, as Florrie’s words sunk in, a tide of anger swept through her. No getting around it, her sister had become a prostitute, had sunk to the lowest level a woman could sink, and that was an undeniable fact. She got up from the table. “You want me to be happy that my one and only sister works in a brothel? Her voice was shaking. She didn’t care. “You have broken my heart, Florrie Bryan, and Ma and Pa’s, too.” She looked at Hiram. “I’m done. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 14

  They found a sprawling campground not far from town where round tents, square tents, plank hovels, and primitive log cabins dotted the wooded area in haphazard fashion. Their minds still benumbed by their encounter with Florrie, they hardly spoke. Hiram parked the wagon, fed the oxen, and pitched the tent. Sarah built a campfire, went for water, and cooked their dinner. Not until they had nearly finished eating did they touch upon the subject hanging over them like a black cloud.

  Hiram took a bite of beans and slowly shook his head. “My sister’s a whore. I’m saying the words, but I still can’t believe it.”

  Sarah put her fork down. “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach by a mule. What’ll we tell Ma and Pa?”

  “That’s simple. We’ll just say we couldn’t find her.” Hiram peered at her quizzically. “Do you believe Florrie’s story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember those lies Florrie used to tell when she was little? I could always tell, and I still can. That story she told about getting kidnapped by the Indians is hogwash.”

  Sarah had been so shocked by her sister’s announcement, she’d given it no further thought. “Now that I think about it…yes, I suspect she was lying.”

  Hiram cocked an eyebrow. “She’s kidnapped by Indians and somehow escapes? Sounds fishy. It’s like Florrie to lie because she’s covering up something.”

  “But what? At this point why should we care?”

  “You’re right, why should we? We should be getting home. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  Of course they should go home. Florrie was a lost cause. No point in staying, yet Hiram’s remarks had set her to thinking. If Florrie was lying, and she probably was, then she was hiding something. And if she was hiding something, Sarah wanted to know what it was. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

  “Why not? What’s left for us here? Florrie’s not going to change her mind.”

  “The more I think about it, the more I’m realizing Florrie was lying. At the very least, I suspect she left a lot out. We need to find out the truth, if for no other reason than Ma and Pa deserve to know.”

  Hiram eyed her suspiciously. “Jack McCoy’s in Hangtown. Is that why—?”

  “Absolutely not. I hardly think of him anymore.” Not true. She thought of Jack all the time, but Hiram needed to know her main reason for wanting to stay was Florrie. “There’s something she’s not telling. I’m going back to that…that place tomorrow. I’ll talk to her again. You don’t have to go. More likely she’ll open up if it’s just me.”

  “Fine with me.” Hiram gave her the good-natured smile that always touched her heart. “But are you sure you want to go alone? It’s a brothel, after all.”

  “I’ve been there once, and I can do it again. Don’t worry.” Poor Hiram, always so concerned, so helpful. He deserved something special, and she’d just thought what it would be. “Guess what I’m going to do tomorrow. I’m going to bake you an apple pie.”

  Hiram beamed. “Do you think you can find any apples in this town?”

  “Real apples or dried apples, you’re going to have your pie, my dear brother.” Her spirits lifted, not by much, but at least she’d gone a bit beyond the shock and gloom of this terrible day. Tomorrow she’d see Florrie again and maybe, just maybe, come up with the truth. What it was, she didn’t know, but how could it be worse than what she already knew?

  The next morning, Sarah walked into town to shop at the general store. She would wait until afternoon to visit Florrie. As Hiram pointed out, they worked late at such places, and Florrie would still be sleeping. Bright sunshine and crisp mountain air with its hint of pine trees made this a perfect day, but she couldn’t enjoy it. The full impact of her sister’s fall from grace was still sinking in. My sister is a prostitute. How awful. How unthinkable. The general store was just ahead. She must concentrate on her grocery list and—

  “Sarah?”

  Jack’s voice came from behind her. She froze in her tracks. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes as painful memories flooded her mind: his last words, I’ve enjoyed knowing you and all your family, so cold, so impersonal; those nights when she couldn’t sleep for thinking of the times she’d been in his arms making a complete fool of herself; those endless days after they reached Mokelumne City when she waited for a letter that never came.

  She turned to face him. There he stood in that same easy, self-assured pose, his casual smile telling her how much he didn’t care, how much he’d never cared, and how stupid she’d been to have believed he ever would. She tipped her head, pasted a smile of nonchalance on her face. “Why, Jack McCoy! How lovely to see you again.” She let sarcasm drip from her voice.

  He drew in a shaking breath. “Sarah, my God, I… What are you doing here?”

  “How could you possibly care?”

  “Of course I care. I—”

  “Don’t bother.” She made no attempt to hide the bristling anger in her voice. “Sorry, I’m busy. I don’t have time to talk.”

  She started away, but he took her arm. “Sarah, listen, you don’t understand.”

  She jerked her arm away. “I understand perfectly, Mr. McCoy, and I want you to understand I want nothing more to do with you, not now, not ever. Is that clear?”

  Carrying the image of his stricken face, she turned away and headed for the general store.

  Later in the morning, after she’d returned to the camp, Sarah built a fire outside their tent and started baking the apple pie she’d promised Hiram. By now she’d calmed down. Earlier, when she first entered the general store, she’d been a near-hysterical mess, heart pounding, mind seething with such an anger she could hardly think straight. What a shock to see Jack again. Coming on top of Florrie’s devastating news, it was a wonder she’d managed to compose herself enough to shop, but thank goodness, she had. Jack McCoy was nothing but a bad memory. She wouldn’t let him spoil her day.

  Same as Gold Creek, she found sky-high prices, but by now she was used to them. At least she’d found flour, dried apples, sugar, cinnamon—everything she needed for the pie.

  Hiram appeared just as she pulled the pie iron from the fire. After one sniff of the apple-cinnamon aroma wafting beneath his nose, he broke into a broad grin. Sarah cut them each a generous piece. They were still eating when Jake, their thin, gaunt-faced neighbor from the nearest tent appeared. Like many of the miners, he hadn’t been eating right, probably nothing but beef jerky and beans. He cast a longing gaze at the remains of the pie. “Ma’am, I’d sell my soul for a piece of that.”

  How could she say no? She was reaching for the knife when Hiram spoke up. “We’ll sell you a piece for a dollar.”

  As Jake hurriedly dug in his pocket, another neighbor ar
rived. Two more soon followed, and all practically salivated over Sarah’s pie. “Let them have it,” Hiram said. “A dollar each. You can always bake another.”

  The pie disappeared in no time, leaving them richer by several dollars.

  Hiram grinned. “Maybe you should go into the pie business.”

  “Maybe I should.” Hiram might have been jesting, but he had a good idea. She’d think about it tomorrow. Right now she had other things to consider. It was time to visit that brothel and have another talk with her sister.

  At two o’clock in the afternoon, all was quiet at the house with the red door on Pacific Street. Hiram was with her. “I’ll wait right here in front,” he said, “in case something goes wrong.”

  Despite the tensing nerves in her stomach, Sarah smiled with more confidence than she felt. “It’s not every day I force my way into a brothel, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in no time.” She went up the porch steps and knocked on the door. The same maid answered. “I’ve come to see my sister.” She quickly stepped inside, brought her finger to her lips, and blew a quiet “Shhh” at the maid. “I’ll only be a minute. No one needs to know.” Not waiting for an answer, she headed for the staircase, walking fast, not looking back. If her luck held out, the maid wouldn’t rush to Mrs. Northcutt and tattle.

  Good. No one came after her. She reached Florrie’s door and quietly knocked. When her sister opened it, she stepped inside. “Can we talk?” When Florrie nodded and closed the door, she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Soon, they sat drinking tea, same as yesterday, only now Florrie was dressed in an elegant cream-colored silk wrapper embroidered with tiny pink flowers, matching silk slippers on her feet. She gave Sarah a curious gaze. “I’m surprised you came back.”

  Sarah took a leisurely sip of tea. Above all, she didn’t want to appear intimidating. “First of all, I was hoping you might have changed your mind.”

  Florrie shook her head and giggled. “I wish you could have seen the lovely time I had last night. We had a party. We have lots of parties, and I’m always treated like a queen. So in answer to your question, no, I haven’t changed my mind, and I’m not going to.”

  “I can see that.” Sarah gave her a grudging nod. “We’ll say no more on the subject. In case you’re wondering, Hiram and I have decided we won’t tell Ma and Pa we found you. Far as they’re concerned, we made a useless trip to Hangtown, came all this way for nothing. They’ll be disappointed, but not nearly as much as if they heard the truth.”

  Florrie’s smile disappeared. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t miss them terribly, but it’s too late. I can never go back.”

  “It’s never too late, little sister,” Sarah said in a gentle voice. “No matter what happens, you must always remember that.” She sat back in her chair and looked her sister in the eye. “Just so we’ll know, I want you to tell me what really happened.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. That story you gave us—getting kidnapped by the Indians. Hiram calls it hogwash, and I think so, too. I’d like the truth. You owe us that much, don’t you think?”

  Florrie opened her mouth to protest, but then seemed to change her mind. She picked up the teapot. “More tea?” When Sarah nodded, she refilled their cups with great deliberation, clearly giving herself time to think. “I was going easy on you. If you heard the real truth, you’d be beyond horrified.”

  “I want the truth. I deserve the truth.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Then brace yourself. I’ll tell you everything.” Florrie set the pot down. “You’re not going to like it.”

  Sarah’s heart jumped in her chest, but she managed a calm, “Try me.”

  Florrie tipped her head and looked at the ceiling, as if she was trying to get her thoughts in order. “It all goes way back before we left for California. Remember how shy I was? Shy, quiet, dull, boring, and not much to look at either. I had no beaux and claimed I didn’t want any, but I did. I used to cry myself to sleep at night. I so wanted a man to love me, like you had, Sarah. I was so jealous of you and all those men who were after you. And then, do you remember Charlie, our handyman?”

  “Of course I remember him. He had a cocky attitude, but he was a hard worker.” Charlie? She would never have guessed. “What are you saying?”

  “Remember he had that room back of the stable?” Florrie grinned mischievously. “This is going to shock you, but many’s the time I sneaked out there. You never knew. No one knew. He wasn’t much to look at, but he was awfully good in bed.”

  Sarah fought to conceal her astonishment and keep her face straight. “So go on.”

  “Charlie got me in a family way.”

  What! “You mean you…?”

  Florrie nodded. “When we started for California, I was expecting a child, only I didn’t know it. If I had, I’d probably be married to Charlie by now, so maybe it’s better that I didn’t know. We were well underway before I realized. When I did, I was horrified. It was awful. I couldn’t tell Ma and Pa. You know how shocked and appalled they would have been. Time was going by, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “You could have told me. I would have helped.”

  “I thought of telling you, but what could you have done? I’d gotten myself into a fine mess, and no one, not even you, could have gotten me out. By the time we reached Fort Hall, I was beginning to show. Thank God for those stupid aprons we all wore, but even they couldn’t conceal my condition forever. That day I disappeared, I really had gone for a walk in the woods, just as I said, only I was thinking I would kill myself. The trouble was I didn’t know how to go about it. Besides, I really didn’t want to die. That’s when a man named Johnny Valentine came along, just as I left the woods and started walking back to the train. He was traveling alone—owned a small wagon and a couple of oxen, hell bent for the goldfields. We got to talking, and, well, he liked me, so he invited me to join him, and I did.”

  Sarah couldn’t stay silent. “Didn’t you give a thought to your family? We stayed behind because of you, let the train go on without us, so there we were stuck alone in the wilderness. Ma insisted. You have no idea how frantic she was. She got another of those horrible asthma attacks and would have died if it hadn’t been for—” She must stop thinking about Jack McCoy and all the good things he’d done. “You caused us all kinds of grief. I see now it’s not over yet.”

  Florrie lifted her chin. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

  She’d better calm down or she’d never hear the whole story. “Go on. I won’t interrupt again, I promise.”

  “Johnny Valentine took me to Gold Creek. At first he’d been nice to me, but then he started getting mean. Nothing I said or did could please him. He took to shouting at me, and worse. He stole from me, too. When we met those Indians, he took my beautiful necklace away from me and traded it for some beaver skins. Later he sold them and kept the money.”

  Sarah recalled Beatrice Butler’s reaction when she saw Florrie’s picture. “When you were in Gold Creek, did you ever eat at a restaurant called The Miners’ Heaven?”

  “I remember it well. We got into a big argument there. He almost hit me.”

  So that explained Beatrice’s reluctance to say she’d seen Florrie. Obviously, she hadn’t wanted to get involved. “Did he ever actually hit you?”

  Florrie nodded and hung her head. “That’s not all. He had his way with me any time he wanted, which was just about every day, and it was…well, just plain brutal. After a few days, we left Gold Creek and headed for Hangtown. By the time we got here, I wanted desperately to get away from him, but I couldn’t. I had no money, no nothing. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. We were camped close to here. The day after we arrived, Johnny sent me to shop for groceries. When I got back, he was gone and so were the oxen and wagon. He’d sold them and took off for the goldfields.”

  “Nice fe
llow.”

  Florrie nodded grimly. “Wasn’t he, though? So there I was, stuck in a strange town, not knowing a soul, nothing to eat, no money, and…and…”

  “Expecting a baby,” Sarah finished for her, voice brimming with sympathy. “I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for you.”

  “It was pretty bad, all right. I’d never been hungry before. With the baby, it was even worse. I walked into town, pretty near starving. The first place I came to was the Gold Star. I went around to the back thinking I’d look for something to eat in the garbage. Someone must have seen me and told Mr. Palmer—Mr. Hannibal Palmer who owns the Gold Star and a lot more. What a wonderful man. He personally came out to get me, brought me inside, took me to the dining room, and ordered the most scrumptious meal I ever had in my life. Raw oysters, curried sausages, brandy peach pastry—anything I wanted. When I asked how I could repay him, he said I could work for him as a dancehall girl.” Florrie’s eyes went bright. She clapped her hands together. “Such fun! I got to dress real fancy, danced every dance. I loved it when the men crowded around, dying to pay a whole dollar for a three-minute dance. By then I was really showing, but it didn’t matter. When a man’s been out in the wilderness and hasn’t seen a woman for months, he’s not going to care how thick-waisted she is. I made good money, but when I saw how much the girls on the third floor were making—”

  “The prostitutes you mean?”

  “Better to call us ‘ladies of easy virtue.’ When I asked Mr. Palmer, he said he’d be glad to try me out. As you can see, I worked out fine.”

  “Wait!” Sarah raised a protesting hand. “This wonderful man, this Hannibal Palmer, he’s the one who hired you to be a prostitute?”

  “No, no, no.” Florrie fervently shook her head. “It was my idea. He never pressured me at all. Like I told you, I love what I do. I’m good at what I do.” A prideful smile touched her lips. “I started my career at the Gold Star where they cater to lowlifes—whoever walks through the door. It wasn’t long before Mr. Palmer saw how good I was and sent me here.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “This is the crème-de-la-crème of brothels. Everyone’s screened. Only the finest gentlemen are allowed in.”