Warming Emerald: The Red Petticoat Saloon

by Maren Smith

  Fidgeting with the folds of her dress, Dottie picked at the ruffles without seeing them. She opened and closed her mouth twice before finally managing a nod. “Yes, sir.” It came out breathless and shaky.

  “Nettie,” Gabe continued, visibly startling the black woman as he held up another count of fifty. For the first time, he turned to pin her with the full force of his disapproval. “Say yes and you will not be on your customary side of the spoon,” he warned. “You. Knew. Better.”

  “You’re right. I did.” Hands folded tight across her abdomen, Nettie flexed her fingers once before answering, “I-I… I agree to the terms.” Her knees seemed to give out under her then. She collapsed onto the edge of the bunk beside Ruby, who caught her hand and gave it a commiserating squeeze. “I can do this,” the cook whispered to herself. “Won’t be my first lickin’.”

  Flashing a weak smile, Ruby playfully bumped shoulders with her. “Probably not your last, either, right?”

  Startling all over again, Nettie stared at Ruby as if the former gem had just sprouted horns and a halo. “The hell it won’t, girl! Now this right here, this is why I’ve got to take after you with the spoon so much. You never learn!”

  Turning back to Deputy Slade, Gabe counted the last fine out of his wallet. He held up the folded bills, tucked between two fingers. “Emerald.”

  Her stomach flipped and dropped, as if she’d fallen from an incredible height when in actuality she hadn’t moved. She could barely feel herself breathing. Her chest was too tight for it. She hated Gabe’s belt. Hated it with the same measure of ferocity that he used whenever he felt the need to wield it, lighting a disciplinary fire that always seemed to burn the hottest after he stopped and then took hours to extinguish. Not even ice helped. She knew because, like most gems at one time or another, she’d tried it.

  There was no help for it, though. She had lost her temper. Again. She’d physically attacked another person. Again. And now she was in jail because of it. She had to admit, even if only to herself—well-deserved though Millicent’s treatment had been—she had earned tonight’s dance with the belt.

  But, fifty? She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, not even her voice as she too lifted her chin and gave her answer. “Yes, sir.”

  Except that Gabe did not hand the money to the waiting deputy. Instead, hesitating, he just stood there. He was motionless for so long, a real-life duplicate to the wooden statue standing just outside Brownstone’s Tobacco Shop, all painted up to look like an Indian brave offering up his pipe to passersby. When Gabe finally did lower the money, it was only by a few inches. He didn’t give it to Deputy Slade, nor did he put it away in his wallet.

  “I-I said, yes, sir,” Lydia tried again a little louder. Her heart thundered in her breast, a rib-shattering pulse made harder and faster by the absolute certainty taking root inside her. He was hesitating because he didn’t want to take her back to the Red Petticoat. He was hesitating because he was going to let her go. She had caused too much trouble for too long.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t feel herself moving, not even when she saw her own hands reach out and grab the bars. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She tried again, but when she opened her mouth, the words got lost. Sound beyond the rasp of her shaky exhale refused to come, and yet that Gabe seemed to hear.

  He turned, slowly glancing back at her over his shoulder. No, not her; at Garrett.

  Who smiled.

  “You got enough on your plate with this lot,” Garrett said, nodding to the cell. “You go on. I’ll bring her home in a minute. Maybe two or three, depending.”

  “Depending?” Lydia echoed, shaking even harder now. Her legs weren’t going to hold her. She staggered, gripping the bars so tightly that her fingers ached from the force and her wounded wrist screamed. Her gaze bounced from the sheriff, to Gabe and finally back to Garrett again. “B-but I said, yes, sir. Don’t leave me! What do I have to do? I’ll be good!” Her voice broke. “I-I said, yes!”

  But he was already putting his money back in his wallet, and the other gems were leaving her, filing out the cell past her when the sheriff beckoned them out the door. Jewel touched a hand to her shoulder as she passed Lydia. In shock, Lydia tried to follow, but Sheriff Justice forced her back into the cell.

  “You two,” he said, beckoning to Ruby and Sapphire as well.

  “But I said yes!” Lydia cried, already finding herself close to tears at the thought of being left behind. Not that she was really being left behind. Garrett was, even now, paying her fine out of his own billfold so she knew she wasn’t going to have to spend the night in a jail cell next to Millicent. But still, why Garrett? How could Gabe do that to her? Twice! In the same day!

  “I said, yes,” she cried, her voice breaking again as her shoulders slumped. Her hands fell limp at her sides as all the gems who were her family and friends filed outside. Gabe was the last to go and before he did, he paused at the mouth of her cell.

  “I know you did,” he finally said. “And if it were that simple, I would take you home right now and line you up with the others. The problem is, Emerald, mi pequeña, something tells me I no longer have that right.”

  “Of course you do,” she stammered, horrified to be standing here, fighting so hard to convince him to take her home and whip her. With his belt, no less—she had to be insane, but she didn’t care so long as he took her home! Her panic climbed higher when Gabe only shook his head.

  “No, mi amiga. I don’t.” He reached through the bars to lightly pinch her chin between his big fingers. “I’ll see you when you get home.” He looked at Garrett. “Tonight.”

  Garrett acknowledged that command with a two fingered tap to the brim of his hat. “Sure thing, boss.”

  Gabe frowned, shaking his head once, but the end was the same. He let his heavy hand come to rest on Garrett’s shoulder and then he left her there—just left her, with no other home to fall back on. No friends, no family. No tribe. Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  For one perfect second, Lydia felt her heart stumble and stop in her chest. In the utter stillness of that moment, she panicked.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabe patted Garrett once on the shoulder, his heavy hand delivering something of a warning squeeze right before he left. The pain won a grunt from him, but Garrett managed to keep his smile and he wasn’t even all that offended. After all, Gabe was just giving him a friendly warning. Like the “tonight” comment, it was the kind of warning one man might give another, when the welfare of a deeply cared for woman was involved. Especially when a little butt busting was about to come into play. Gabe’s warning said: Take it too far and you’ll answer to me.

  He hoped Lydia realized how lucky she was to have friends like that.

  “One minute,” Garrett reaffirmed, letting Gabe know his warning had been received. “Maybe five. Not more than twenty. I’m reasonably sure I’ll have her home by dawn.”

  It wouldn’t do to let the man think he was in control of too much, after all.

  He waved when Gabe looked back from the door, but then the Mexican’s attention was on herding his misbehaving gems home and they all took their leave.

  “You want me to stay?” Deputy Slade asked, but Sheriff Justice shook his head.

  “You both go on home,” he told him and Tey. “Take care of what you need to and come back when you’re done. I’ll wait that long.”

  “I could use some supper,” Millicent said pointedly. “Unless your plan is to ensure my “cooperation” by starving me all night.”

  “I’m sure your husband would love to get you something,” the sheriff said.

  “Like a gag,” Ruby muttered not quite quietly enough.

  “Be nice,” Sheriff Justice warned.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Turning back to the smirking Millicent, Ruby schooled her features before offering the sunniest smile anyone could possibly force. In her most cheerful voice, she repeated, “Like a gag!”

  S
mile crashing into an instant scowl, she caught up her skirts and waddled out of the building as fast as her pregnant hips would allow.

  “Now, hold it right there, Red,” Justice called after her. He chased her down, catching up with her before Ruby could negotiate the two steps down onto the dirt street.

  “Well, she’s a bitch!” Ruby snapped.

  “That is one fiery temper,” Garrett admired, then caught Myron’s arm when the other man started past him. “Hold up now. Where are you off to?”

  “To fetch Millie’s supper.”

  “How about we have us a word first?” Catching the back of a nearby chair, Garrett swept it out from the desk it was tucked up to and thunked it down heavily in the center of the room. “Here. Sit down.”

  “I’m hungry now,” Millicent ordered, but when Garrett ignored her, as if seeking approval, Myron did too.

  “Please, sit down,” Garrett repeated, and after a slight hesitation, Myron did. “Good man.” Garrett whapped him once, a warming pat on the back that nearly pitched the smaller man face-first onto the floor. “Wait right here.”

  Leaving Myron rubbing his shoulder, he hurried to catch up with Sheriff Justice. The lawman was still on the porch, clutching the fiery and very pregnant Ruby by her narrow shoulders. His tone was low and stern, but it was clear Culpepper’s tough sheriff loved his wife. It showed in the softening lines of his grim face in the same way that hers was even now softening with guilty regret.

  “I’m sorry,” she admitted. “And I mean it this time. I—” She stopped when she spied Garrett listening from the doorway, and her face flushed. It was his gentlemanly side that made him want to minimize her embarrassment, so Garrett kept his gaze off her and on her frowning husband instead.

  “Why don’t you two head on home?” Garrett offered. “I’ll stick around until one of the deputies gets back.” He held up both hands when Sheriff Justice drew himself suspiciously upright. “Now, I swear I won’t let Mrs. Crankshaw out of her cage and I promise like hell not to let anyone in with her. Not even if they beg or cry. Or pay me.”

  The sheriff’s frown and suspicions deepened. “You’ve already paid your fine. Why would you stay?”

  Garrett shrugged. “So you and the missus can go have your talk in private, and me and my missus can do that same.”

  “She’s not your missus,” Ruby said, hands on hips.

  “Not yet.” Garrett pointed a staying finger at her. “But she’s warming to me. Yes, sirree, those polar icecaps are a-melting. In a month, maybe two… definitely before the year’s first snowfall blankets the mountain peaks, mark my words, there will be all kinds of matrimonial heat filling up the cabin out on the Circle-Bar-Bar. I promise, I won’t leave until Deputy Slade or Deputy Tey returns, and I seriously doubt we’ll see any lynch party coming for Mrs. Crankshaw tonight.” He thought about it. “Unless, of course, Mr. Crankshaw wants to start one. In which case, I think the man has earned the right.”

  Sheriff Justice frowned.

  “Aw, come on,” Garrett said. “That was funny.”

  Humorless, the sheriff pointed at him. “Make no mistake, I will not be forgiving if I come back and find you’ve lied to me.”

  “I am many things,” Garrett assured him. “A liar has never been among them. At least not often.”

  “If you let that woman escape that cell—”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you let Emerald go in—”

  Garrett snorted. “Not until she learns how to throw a punch. Have you seen her wrist?”

  “I’m serious.” Sheriff Justice loomed a step closer. “You think I’m playing with you? The last thing I need is an accusation that I let my wife’s friends beat up a material witness.”

  Completely somber for a change, Garrett surrendered both hands. “Lydia doesn’t need it either. You don’t have to trust what I say, but you can bank on the fact that I’ll never let anything bad happen to her. Not if I can help it.”

  Staring him down, Sheriff Justice hesitated. Garrett held his glare, waiting until the slightly taller lawman reached his eventual decision. Some level of sincerity must have shown through because in the end the sheriff took his wife’s arm and led her down the street.

  “You can trust me,” Garrett promised with a wave. Honestly, one would think he and his brother were outlaws judging by the way this town was acting. What had they done—well, apart from that one brawl a few months back where they’d smashed up the Red Petticoat, beat on Gabe, thrown Jewel over a table (purely by accident; thought she was a man; things like that happened in brawls)—to earn such suspicion?

  Shaking his head, Sheriff Justice escorted his pregnant wife home.

  “Can we trust him?” Ruby whispered, her voice carrying back to Garrett’s eagle-sharp ears.

  “Hell if I know,” Justice muttered. “But let’s not worry about that right now. How about instead, we concentrate on you and whatever excuse you might have for joining in with your ex-fellow gems to lob horseshit at me?”

  Garrett continued waving just in case one or both glanced back at him, but neither did. His arm dropped as soon as they rounded the far street corner. Lovely couple. She probably wouldn’t sit for a week, which reminded him… Strolling back into the jail, Garrett flashed Myron a smile and calmly closed the door behind him.

  “I’m really, really hungry,” Millicent complained as he stole one of the deputies’ chairs. “I could use some food right now.”

  “You could really use something, all right,” Garrett agreed, bringing it back to where Myron was still waiting. By the very looks of him, the man had been beleaguered all day. He was embarrassed and miserable, and probably just wanted to go home so he could forget for one night that he was irrevocably attached to the biggest shrew that ever walked these California streets. It was hard to blame the poor man, but maybe—just maybe—Garrett could help him.

  Sprawling onto the chair next to Myron, long legs stretched out and arms folded across his chest, for a while Garrett contented himself with watching the prisoners. Millicent was sulking. Lydia was harder to read. She was standing exactly as she’d been left, near the mouth of the cell with the door swung wide open. Her face was pale, but that might have been the piss-poor lighting. The sun was going down and no one had yet bothered to light any of the room’s six lamps. That left her cast mostly in shadow, all but her left shoulder and arm; and although he could see her face, he couldn’t quite pin down that expression.

  Rattled, maybe. But then, she was in jail and faced with a whipping; rattled was a good thing to be when that happened.

  Might have been anger, he mused as he studied her. Might have been sullen irritation too, much like Millicent’s impotent glare. Free as Lydia was to simply shove the cell door open wide and step out, he wasn’t sure why she didn’t leave. The sheriff wasn’t here to stop her anymore. Myron certainly wasn’t going to, either. He would, of course; Garrett smiled, idly rubbing his middle finger around the pad of his thumb where he sometimes thought he could still feel the points of her sharp teeth. Ah, the whirlwind courtships of sweet, sweet romance.

  And yet, Lydia just stood there, the shadows of her unreadable eyes locked in his direction. Her fists were clenched in the folds of her black and crimson soiled dove’s dress, one that covered all the necessary parts of her that needed covering, and yet that left a little too much exposed for the delicate comforts of most the ladies of Culpepper Cove.

  Maybe it was indecision, he thought, tipping his head to regard her more closely. But then, it might just as easily have been defiance. Her stubborn way of telling him how displeased she was that he had dared to pay her fine and thereby prevented her return to the Red Petticoat with her other sisters in disgrace. As if he’d allow any man—Gabe, included—to raise a hand to her and most certainly not for the wrong reason. He smirked. Pigheaded as she was, she might not acknowledge the favor he’d just done her. Not until tomorrow when all the other gems stood comparing their stripes. Hell, knowing Ly
dia, she might not acknowledge it even then.

  Feisty, Garrett mused, loving every gloriously affronted inch of her. He did so adore spirited women.

  “I know what you want me to do,” Myron said, distracting Garrett from his thoughts. “I just can’t.” Head bowed, he spread his hands in a helpless shrug. “I can’t beat my wife.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to beat her,” Garrett soothed. “Just… rein her in a little.”

  “I am not a horse,” Millicent snipped from her cell.

  They both ignored her.

  “How?” Myron challenged. “Do you have any idea what she would do if I raised so much as an eyebrow at her?”

  “Don’t tolerate it,” Garrett replied.

  Millicent barked a hard laugh. “I could tell your ‘wife’ the same thing!”

  “Millie, please,” her husband begged, patting the air at her. “Just… stop.”

  Garrett moved his chair. Instead of side by side, he repositioned himself directly in front of Myron. “Pay her no mind, just for a minute. Look at me.”

  Sighing, Myron did.

  “Don’t beat her,” he repeated, low and hushed, the steady grey of his stare boring into the other man in a way that refused to let him be distracted. “Discipline doesn’t have to be abuse. Look at me.” Garrett spread his hands, sitting back in his seat with an expansive shrug. “I don’t have a cruel bone in my body—”

  “That’s not what I heard,” Myron interrupted, causing Garrett’s smile to fade.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “You and your brother both rode in the cavalry, didn’t you? I remember a few years back, when the Indians were first being uprooted onto the Reservations, scattered groups of them used to come through here all the time, looking for food or trade. They used to tell stories about being hunted and harassed by—”

  Garrett’s hand shot up. His smile was gone. He had to look away, finding it suddenly very uncomfortable to hold eye contact. He’d done more than one or two things during his stint in the army that he was far from proud of, but he’d left those days well behind him. He and Cullen both had. Or so he’d thought. Seems they hadn’t outrun the stories, after all.