Warming Emerald: The Red Petticoat Saloon

by Maren Smith

  “You call yourself married,” his brother added, shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I didn’t realize how stupid that was until I said it out loud.”

  “I forgive you,” Rose spoke up from inside the tightly packed jail cell.

  “Thank you, baby, but that doesn’t change the fact that you won’t be sitting for a month, at the very earliest.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew his billfold. “What’s the fine to get her out?”

  “I haven’t logged the arrests or had a chance to tally the sums,” Sheriff Justice grumbled. “Hell, I can’t even find my desk!”

  “It’s here,” Deputy Slade called and helpfully raised a hand high enough to be seen over the curtain of people surrounding him. “I’m sitting on it.”

  “Log the prisoners and note they’ve been dismissed with a reprimand and a fine.”

  “A reprimand?” Millicent echoed, just startled enough to stop her insistent complaining.

  Still trapped in the cell with her, Doctor Norwood drawled, “Can somebody please back up so I can get out?”

  “What do you mean a ‘reprimand?’” Millicent demanded as men shuffled, squeezing together to make room enough to open the cell door.

  “And a fine,” Sheriff Justice repeated. Shaking his head, he added, “You know, about half of you could try getting out.”

  “Not without my wife,” the mayor and his brother replied in unison.

  “How much, boss?” Slade called over the others’ grumbling chorus of agreement.

  Pulling out his own wallet, Sheriff Justice thumbed through what he had. “How about…” He winced a little. “Ten dollars sound about right?”

  Having lain as if at death’s door all throughout the doctor’s examination, Millicent now snapped bolt upright on her bunk, screeching, “Ten dollars?! After what they’ve done, that’s an outrage! Just look at me!” She pointed at her swollen, bruised mouth, still stained around the edges in that faint manure-shade of unappealing green. Her outrage died beneath a surge of self-pity and watery-eyes. “I got it in my mouth! I think I might even have swallowed some.”

  “I’ll fetch you a bar of soap,” the sheriff icily replied. “Considering all the trouble you’ve caused, a mouth full of suds is the least you deserve.”

  “Can I please get out of here?” Doctor Norwood asked again. A chorus of sighs mixed with wry snorts, but everyone obligingly shuffled closer together again, this time squeezing in tight enough for the cell door to swing open far enough for the doctor to try wriggling out. He had one leg, one arm and most of his chest through when the door suddenly flew inward again, crashing into Charlie, John and Tey and sending a wide ripple of men colliding off-balancing into his neighbor.

  “All right,” Garrett cheerfully called. “What’d she do?”

  “Upff!” the doctor gasped, suddenly pinned between the door and the cell.

  “Anson!” Citrine shoved through her sister gems to get as close as she could to him.

  “Back up!” John shouted, grabbing the bars. Grunting, Pastor Black and Deputy Slade both climbed onto the sheriff’s desk to make enough room for the men to pry the cell door off Norwood.

  “Is he hurt?” Citrine begged, squeezing along the bars, nudging past her fellow gems to try and get a better look. She coughed. “Anson? Anson!”

  “I’m fine.” Wincing, the doctor straightened slowly. He ran a hand over his ribs, checking them. When she coughed again, he turned enough to lock eyes with her through the bars. “I’m fine, Della. Calm down now. Deep breaths.”

  Though she didn’t look as if she believed him, Citrine made a visible effort to obey.

  “Wow, stop to talk to a soldier and look who misses all the fun,” Garrett mused, a corner of his mouth quirking as he took in the crowd. “What’d you do, Sheriff? Lock up the whole town?”

  “Near enough,” Justice replied, unamused. “Ten dollars, I said. Pay up and get out. Who’s first?”

  “Me,” Pastor Black said, opening his billfold. Standing on the sheriff’s desk made it easy to hand Slade payment for his wife’s fine. Getting down and out was more difficult.

  “I’ll send her to you once we can open the cell,” Sheriff Justice promised.

  “I’ll be waiting on the porch—” the pastor agreed, and then leveled a Look at Amber. “—just thinking about all the decent ‘rods of correction’ growing up between here and home.”

  Lydia could hear Amber’s hard swallow from halfway across the cell.

  “This is a miscarriage of justice, that’s what this is,” Millicent grumbled. “The fees for living sinfully are so much lighter when a whore is married to you, or one of your dear associates!”

  “Millie,” Myron censured.

  “Shut up,” she snapped, petulantly. “You haven’t defended me once today! You don’t care at all, or you’d have had the pluck to say as much yourself!”

  If there’d been room enough, Myron might have recoiled from her jail cell. As it was, all he could do was stand there, eyes wounded and face flushed with misery.

  The sheriff also flushed, although the reason for it seemed a great deal darker than mere misery. “Fifty dollars,” he said grimly. “I’ll write a damn check, which can be cashed first thing in the morning,” he added for Millicent’s haughty approval. “Wouldn’t want it said I was taking advantage of my position.”

  “Ain’t nobody paid any attention to that from a resident of your fine establishment,” Garrett told him, casting Millicent only the most glancing perusal before making way for Pastor Black to squeeze out past him. “You got Lydia locked up amongst the rest of these colorful doves?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got her.” Sheriff Justice said with a nod to the Mayor and his brother, both of whom handed over their money. “I’ll send them out when I can,” he promised.

  “And we’ll be waiting,” Thomas replied, giving his bride a Look from across the room. It was the best he could do considering everyone lurking between them, but it took.

  Rose cringed. “Can I opt not to be bailed out?”

  “No,” every man in the room answered, including the sheriff who added, “You may not. Nobody evades justice in this town.”

  Huddled near the rear of the cell, Ruby rolled her eyes. “He likes to say that in bed, too,” she muttered, not quite under her breath. The gems weren’t the only ones who laughed.

  “Your mouth is writing checks your hind end can’t cover,” Sheriff Justice warned.

  Her already thin smile vanished. “I think I just felt a contraction,” she deadpanned.

  “Nothing hurries childbirth along like a good ol’ fashioned whipping,” he returned.

  Eyes widening, the redhead turned to Jewel. “Really?”

  Jewel shook her head. “He’s bluffing you, honey. Still, I wouldn’t push it if I were you.”

  Amazing how much easier it was to move once three men cleared out. Both the deputies and sheriff logged their fines, though everybody knew they’d be the last to leave and it was highly unlikely that either Ruby, Sunny, or Sapphire would be allowed to walk themselves home under the promise of good behavior.

  “Here’s my part.” Doctor Norwood passed Della’s fine through the crowd. “Just let me take a look at Emerald and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Arching up onto tiptoes, Garrett jumped to see over the top of John and Charlie. “Why do you need to look at Lydia? What happened?” He hopped, then pushed between the two to get closer to the bars. Her hand was already in the doctor’s by the time he got there, and Lydia wasn’t sure what she felt most keenly as the amusement melted from his face and he took in the sight of her swollen wrist.

  “How and when the hell did that happen?” he demanded.

  “She punched Mrs. Crankshaw,” the sheriff announced in the same low tone Lydia knew authoritative men liked to use when tattling on each other’s wives. She’d heard Gabe and Charlie and sometimes even John speak to one another like that and it was always right befo
re Jewel got taken into her office or, in the case of Opal or Silver, taken upstairs. It irked her to hear him use that tone with Garrett, as if he were her keeper.

  “Make a fist,” the doctor said, and her irritation promptly died behind a wince and a hiss as she did was she was told. “Open your hand. Tell me when it starts to hurt.” He tested her range of motion, cautiously bending her wrist up and down and then side to side.

  “Ow,” Lydia whispered under her breath, then repeated it louder when he rolled her hand in a gentle circle. “Ow!” She almost yanked her arm back through the bars, but Doctor Norwood tightened his grip at the same time Garrett caught her elbow.

  Tingling heat burst up through her arm at his touch. It was the most unwelcome and yet alluring sensation and it spread quickly down into her fingertips and up into her shoulder. She could feel it in the wanton tips of her nipples as the dress she’d been wearing without a second thought all day long now began to make itself felt in the most distracting ways. The whole inside of her bodice suddenly felt as if it were made of sackcloth. Every breath made her nipples scrape the fabric, tightening them, abrading them. He tsked and she looked at his mouth, at his lips. The fullness of them. The hidden heat they promised teased at her imagination and left her appalled—at least, she was trying her damnedest to be appalled while he continued to hold her, drawing her right up to the bars so her medical torturer could continue his interrogation of her injured joint.

  “Serves you right,” Millicent sniffed, startling her just enough to at last tear her eyes from Garrett’s way too tempting mouth. Was she trembling? Had he noticed where she was staring? He must have. His gaze had sharpened on her like a hawk on a cornfield mouse.

  “Come closer,” Lydia shot back to her, more shaken than she was irritated. “I don’t care how much it hurts, I will hit you again!”

  “No, you won’t,” Garrett corrected, and Millicent hiked her chin, smiling. Her smugness vanished, however, when he pointed a stern finger at Lydia and laid down the law. “Not until you prove to me you know how to throw a punch without ever causing this kind of injury again.” He made a fist. “Tuck your thumb; don’t bend your wrist. Keep your hand level and your arm straight. Look at your knuckles! What, did you hit her in the mouth? Never do that. Go for the nose; her eyes will water and she won’t be able to see. Then two quick punches—boom, boom!” He jabbed the air and though he never came close to hitting the bars much less her, Lydia jumped. “Go for the jaw. You’ll lay her out like a log.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sheriff Justice asked, appalled. The real kind of appalled. The kind Lydia wished she could be, if only she didn’t find Garrett so incredibly handsome right now. “That little hellion assaulted another woman.”

  “Like there ain’t a man in this room who hasn’t dreamed of hitting her once or twice himself,” Garrett scoffed. “That woman could use a good smack. She’s needed it for years.”

  “Hey!” Myron blustered, the hopelessness in his tone at war with the indignity he couldn’t quite muster. “Come on, now. I don’t go about saying things like that about your wives.”

  “That’s because when our wives misbehave, we do something about it,” Charlie told him. It was so rare that Charlie ever let his temper get the best of him, but right now, he wore the same look Doctor Norwood was, just before he let go of Lydia’s wrist and gestured for the Sheriff to open the other cell.

  “I’ll take my wife now,” he said, at the same time Millicent said, “Myron would never strike a lady! He’s a true gentleman. Not some lowbrow n’er-do-well masquerading like decent, upstanding citizens, or sheriff—” She shot Sheriff Justice a withering glare, before aiming her next insult at the wide open door where Rockwell and his brother, were no doubt still waiting on the porch. “—or mayor! Ladies, ha! You’ve all lain yourselves with dogs. Enjoy the feeding ticks and fleas!”

  Furious as they seemed, not one gem said a word. Not even Lydia, though she thought plenty. It was obvious that she hadn’t hit Millicent anywhere near hard enough. She’d have loved the opportunity to try again, not that the sheriff would have allowed it.

  Charlie laughed, a slow, dark chuckle that held all the nuances of threats better left unsaid. He pulled his wallet from his vest and paid Silver’s fine. “Come on, Emelie. Time to get you home.”

  “Tails tucked firmly between your legs,” Millicent sneered.

  “You stop that nonsense, and I mean right now!” Sheriff Justice snapped, at the end of his patience. With the room cleared out enough now to open the other cell door, he let Silver and Citrine out first, and once Charlie and the doctor had escorted their wives from the jailhouse, he beckoned to the other wives.

  Shoulders slumped, shaking his head, Myron turned from the cage. For the briefest moment, his eyes found Lydia’s. He seemed about to apologize, but as if he knew it would do no good, stopped himself. “She hasn’t always been like this,” he said, shaking his head, as if perplexed. “I don’t know what to do with her. I really don’t.”

  “Don’t apologize for me!” Millicent barked at him.

  “Somebody ought to.”

  Everybody turned when Gabe walked into the jail. The look he gave Millicent was only half as dark as the one he shot Jewel, Nettie, and each of the other gems in turn. An icy shiver danced up Lydia’s spine when that dark-eyed censure fell on her. Her bottom tensed—sheer reflex. That moment she had known was coming ever since they’d been arrested—hell, even from the moment she’d seen the others hurling shit at Millicent in the street—had just arrived. And it was going to be bad. Every bit as bad as she’d dreaded. Gabe’s thumbs were hooked in his belt, one finger restlessly caressing his buckle as his gaze moved from Dottie, to Amy, lingered on Nettie, skipped to Lydia, and finally settled on Jewel. He drew a slow and measured breath, and let it out the same way.

  “I’ve already paid for Opal,” John told him as the sheriff beckoned the reluctant gem through the open cell door. “I’ll take care of this myself once I get her back to the Petticoat.”

  Without taking his eyes off Jewel, Gabe nodded his agreement. “What’s the fine?”

  “Fifty dollars.”

  Gabe didn’t exhale now so much as his breath seemed ripped from him. He shook his head at the floor once, then nodded, and finally raised his hard gaze back to Jewel again. This time, she flinched. Her hands clutched at one another, wrung at her fingers, then clutched again. She lifted her chin, her mask one of shaky defiance. She was trying to be brave, but even Lydia could see that false bravado was faltering before the sternness of Gabe’s dark stare. If she was thinking about the part she’d played in their group misbehavior, it must not be sitting as well with her now that he was standing here.

  It wasn’t sitting well with any of them. Heads were bowed, stances were shuffling and uneasy. Even Nettie wore a guilty expression as she smoothed restless hands down the front of her summer-yellow dress.

  “What do you think, querida, my love?” Gabe finally asked, coming to the mouth of the open cell. “Brawling in the street. Assault; not just of—” The sideways glare he shot Millicent was neither forgiving nor kind. “—that woman, but of a friend and a lawman. Deliberate actions that ended in arrest and jail. What do you suppose would be a fair penance for all of that?”

  “Time served?” Ruby offered. The sassiness of the comment was offset by her distinctly nervous wince. She ducked her head, falling silent when her sheriff husband gave her a pointed frown.

  Far from sassy herself, the lovely madam lowered her head. Her mask of defiance faltered as she glanced over her gems, most of whom were staring either wide-eyed back at her or down at the ground. Deliberately avoiding her deputy husband’s steady eye, Sapphire’s fingers were pressed to her mouth. That, Lydia could understand. She was feeling a little sick right now herself.

  “Well?” Gabe pressed when no one spoke. “Does one stroke per dollar seem a fair price to you?”

  Cold shock fizzled through Lydia, up her spine, d
own her legs, zipping through her flesh to rock her core. Fifty? With his belt? Her legs weakened under her and she nearly collapsed there at the bars where she stood. She’d never survive it, not fifty. They’d be four-strokers too, she was sure of it. One look at her sisters let her know she wasn’t alone in such an assessment. Opal and Amy had both paled. Sagging, Dottie grabbed the bars before her knees gave out beneath her. Hands pressed flat over her stomach, Nettie stared at Jewel, who swallowed again, this time hard enough to be heard throughout the heavy silence of the room. She agreed to his price with the barest of nods, a faint dip of her chin that Lydia almost missed when she blinked.

  “I-I’m very sorry, Gabriel,” she said softly, either ignoring it when Millicent snorted or much too concerned with the impending consequences even to have heard the other woman’s rude laugh.

  “Don’t worry, querida,” he solemnly promised in reply. “We’ll all get to sorry soon enough.” Taking out his wallet, Gabe slipped past Garrett, Tey, Charlie and John until he stood before Deputy Slade at the sheriff’s desk. He didn’t look back at any of them, but it was to the gems that he spoke when he said, “When I call your name, you may answer ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ in regards to my paying your fine. If you answer ‘no, sir’, I’ll leave you here to spend the night and you can decide come morning whether you want to remain at the Red Petticoat and obey our rules or take your earnings and leave. If you answer ‘yes, sir’, you’ll be working tonight with a butt hotter than the coals in Hell. If you wait until morning to agree, you’ll get an additional ten for forcing me to come back and deal with this again. Jewel,” he announced, giving no pause for them to consider their options before holding up the first set of bills.

  Again, Jewel swallowed hard, but no one was surprised when she answered, “Yes, sir.”

  He lay the money in front of the grim deputy, who marked the fine paid in the sheriff’s ledger. Counting out another set of bills, Gabe held it up. “Amy.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Another fine paid. Licking his thumb, Gabe counted out another set. “Dottie.”