The Heart of a Soiled Dove

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The Heart of a Soiled Dove Page 8

by Sarah Jae Foster


  Chapter Eleven

  Donovan’s blood was boiling and it was not from the heat pounding against his skin. He tied his horse at the hitching post and stood outside the Lady of the Night Saloon. He was furious to waste a precious working day on account of Christopher, and worse, he was furious about having to go into this god forsaken place again, without the ritual of the ending of a cattle drive. In irritation, he swore out loud. A mother walking by huddled her child away from Donovan. He assumed she saw anger spilling out from all over him. He paced the boardwalk, gaining momentum and talking himself out of losing his temper on his ranch hand. He would need Christopher’s help come the cattle drive. Donovan’s exhortations to himself did not last long and he slammed open the double doors. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. Betsy was singing at the piano and Josie looked surprised to see him. Donovan pierced her with a hard look. “Where is he?”

  “Where is who? We have several he’s here.”

  Her smart mouth fed his rage.

  She did not flinch as he moved abruptly towards her, used to being manhandled, he was sure. Out of impatience with everyone, Donovan asserted himself a bit too close to her.

  “Step away from her, Ramsey.”

  Donovan’s fiery eyes lit upon Thatcher, holding a shotgun less than five feet away.

  “Just show me where Christopher is and I’ll be out of here.”

  “I’m not in the habit of giving up my customers.”

  In response, Donovan pulled out his pistol. Five shots rang through the air in quick secession and Josie screamed. The note Betsy was singing hung in the air amidst the silence. Before anyone even moved, the pistol was aimed at Thatcher’s head. “One shot left.”

  Half-dressed men came pouring out of rooms, most with long johns on and gun belts hastily attached to hips. Donovan’s eyes scoured for Christopher, but he was not in the mix. Could he have been misled? After another forced coercion, Thatcher finally told him where Christopher was – just as the door to a back room opened and the sought after man stumbled out looking dazed. He spotted Donovan and seemed to remember what his temper could be like. Donovan ripped the rifle from Thatcher’s hands before heading towards his stupid ranch hand. Everyone cautiously waited for Christopher’s demise.

  Christopher fumbled for the gun on his belt, but Donovan was already standing directly in front of the doorframe, looking intently upon his ranch hand. He covered his nose against the smell coming from the room. “Opium, Christopher? You’re bailing out on me for this? You no good….” He stopped instantly. Surprised eyes rested on Emmy, smiling slightly as if it were good of him to join them. He grabbed Christopher by the collar and tossed him out the door. “Get out of here. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Sheriff Bradbury stepped aside as Christopher scrambled out. Donovan halted testily in front of him. “See for yourself. No harm done, sheriff.” He withdrew a wad of money from his vest, looked back at Thatcher and tossed it down. “This more than covers any damage I did.” He looked hard at Corbin. “Now, get out of my way.”

  Corbin moved. Donovan turned to Josie figuring she’d be best to get Emmy home, not that he should have a care about her. He realized it wasn’t Emmy he cared about, but Aurora. Blast them all. He swore again, not wanting to be in this inconvenient situation.

  He turned to Josie, his look daring anyone to raise a stink. “I need you to do something – get that foolish girl and take her home.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Aurora hustled Emmy in, seeing her off kilter walk being supported by a prostitute. Her eyes appealed to Josie for understanding.

  Emmy frowned. “You’ve no call or authority to speak to me like that.”

  To Aurora’s surprise, Josie spoke unkindly to Emmy. “I’ve held my tongue long enough. You’re messing with danger. You can’t handle Poe and what his intentions are for you.”

  “I’m with Christopher, not Poe.”

  Aurora looked between the two of them. What on earth?

  “Look. I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Emmy…?” Aurora started to question, just as Josie began to lay down a torrential scolding on Emmy.

  “I don’t know why you’d leave all this for some low down cowpoke,” Josie exclaimed. “If I had me a place to stay, I’d never leave it. Don’t you never come back to Poe’s.”

  Before Emmy could respond, Josie hurried away, leaving them. Aurora was torn between compassion, confusion and anger. She felt foolish for being caught up in herself and her ranch over the welfare of one of her own.

  Finally Aurora took charge, shaking the urge to smack Emmy awake and smack the darned truth out of her as to what she’d been doing lately. But she couldn’t do it and Emmy stumbled up the stairs, leaving the sound of a door slamming for Aurora to absorb. It looked as though she’d be preparing supper for one tonight.

  A sudden banging on her front door startled her out of any wits she had left. If it were any one of her hands, they would have been wise enough to call out first. The pounding caused her to answer the door with her rifle. It was Donovan. What could he possible want? Could this day get any worse? Her heart did its usual flip upon seeing his strong face. It irritated her.

  “What are you…?”

  He barged in, not waiting for her to finish. “I want you to release Roman from here.”

  What?

  Her mind reeled. This was the last thing she’d expected. “Why would I do that?” She knew this man had a lot of nerve, but this was too much.

  “He doesn’t belong here. You’re going to ruin him. And what about Carrie Anne?”

  Her mind was being whipped about. “Carrie Anne is my friend. I would never let any harm come to her.” Aurora resorted to pleading in order to understand. “Please, tell me what all of this is about.”

  Donovan began stalking her in her own living area, his dark eyes flashing. He was as intimidating as the devil. Soon she was trapped between him and an armchair. His strong musky and tobacco smells sent a chill through her. He was close enough to… kiss. Had she lost her mind? He was going to kill her with his bare hands and she felt attraction?

  “I’ll tell you what it’s about. You are not a reputable woman. Your first impression on this town was to attend a whore-shopping auction.”

  Aurora pushed his chest with all her might, but he didn’t budge. “That’s what this is all about? It’s a misunderstanding. I didn’t figure you to believe gossip.”

  Donovan gritted his teeth. “Release Carrie Anne and Roman from this farce of a cattle ranch and let them come back to me.”

  He stepped away from her. Finally. She could gather her thoughts when he wasn’t so near. She also saw clearly that it would not matter what she said. Words would be fruitless. “You want Roman back – fine! Ask him yourself. He’s free to do whatever he wants.”

  Something about the way Donovan looked at her – smug, knowingly, superior – made her wince. “Did you know that your little partner has been turning profits? Do you realize what that’s going to do to Roman and Carrie Anne’s reputation?”

  “Who told you that? It’s not true.”

  “Are you really that dense?”

  All thoughts of gaining composure in his presence were lost. “Get out. Get out of here!”

  For once, when she was most desperate for him to, Donovan did not leave quickly. Instead he waited callously for his words to sink in. Way down deep. He almost looked regretful to have shocked her but said nothing else.

  When he was gone, she enfolded her arms about her. Tears of sorrow spilled as she walked up to her room. She did not need to question Emmy. All the pieces were falling together now, piecing in like quilted seams. Luke, the sheriff, Josie, and now Donovan.

  “What do you mean I can’t have my horse?” Emmy demanded to Philippe, who stood awkwardly, head down. “If you don’t give her to me I’ll have you fired.”

  It was early in the morning and Aurora had not slept a wink that night. Exhausted, Aurora appeared fully in
the doorway of the barn – heartbroken. “I told him not to give you the horse.”

  “You did what?”

  “Why don’t you stay home today? I could use some help.”

  “I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to help.”

  “Then come for a ride with me. I would love to spend time with you.”

  Emmy glared at Philippe. “I’ll pay you to give me that horse.”

  His eyes grew wide and Aurora gritted her teeth. “Go, Philippe.” He nodded gladly and quickly disappeared.

  Aurora went nose to nose with Emmy. “Just where do you think you were going today?”

  “I’m going to town, even if I have to walk.”

  Aurora folded her arms. “Then you’ll be walking.”

  “Fine!” Emmy turned and headed out the barn.

  Aurora charged after Emmy. “Please don’t go.”

  “I’m only spending time with Christopher. Surely you don’t mind that.”

  “I honestly don’t know what you do. I only know that you’ve been at Thatcher’s. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “I thought I could do whatever I wanted, whatever makes me happy.”

  “I’ve heard things.”

  Emmy bristled. “And?”

  “Are they true?” Aurora was horrified. The only word she planned on hearing was “no.”

  “It depends what you’ve heard, but I reckon that yes, it’s probably true.”

  Aurora stepped back. “You’ve sold yourself?” Her question was barely audible. It hurt physically to let the words escape.

  “It isn’t as if I was a virgin. Besides, I like money just as much as any regular folk does.”

  Her words were so brash, so detached from their relationship and what it once was. Anger and the feeling of betrayal came to Aurora and she walked towards this girl who was stupid and selfish. “You lift your skirts for a few dollars? I could give you hundreds if that’s what it takes to make you happy.”

  “How dare you judge me? You were once the prize attraction at Hazel’s. Why do you think I wanted to work there? I wanted everything you had.” Emmy slapped at the skin of her forearm. “But I got this instead. Only out here no one seems to notice my color. You’re just jealous because no one wants you anymore. It’s me they want.”

  “They will use you and discard you. It’s the way it is.”

  “No they won’t,” Emmy replied. “I’m going to make it work. I’m going to be the next Hazel Caruthers… only black. Wouldn’t that be somethin’?” she sneered. “A dirty old farm. That’s what you traded your life for. Why don’t you go and help that little twit Carrie Anne pull some onions?” She swept past Aurora with arrogance far too much for an eighteen-year-old to handle. “I’m getting my things, unless you object to that as well?”

  Aurora surrendered, saying nothing.

  She stood with Philippe near the well while Emmy was inside gathering her things. Philippe had in his hand the reins of the horse Aurora was giving to her friend. When Emmy emerged she accepted them as if she deserved the gift. At Aurora’s nod, Philippe attached her carpetbag behind the saddle and Emmy made eye contact with her. It was a challenging gaze, but also laced with some regret, however slight it was. Aurora wiped away her tears and said under her breath, “Good bye, Emmy.” She blamed herself for all of this. Why hadn’t she seen it?

  “Anything I can do for you, Senorita?”

  “Saddle my horse. I need to go for a ride.”

  “Si, Senorita.”

  The air whipped at Aurora’s face as she galloped along the land – her land. Aurora would not lose hope for Emmy. The girl was misguided. She’d misjudged the life of a prostitute and would only learn the hard way. Aurora thought of the levels of prostitution – her old circle, and the kind that Poe offered. Neither was a life for anyone. Madam Hazel’s was the best way to sell yourself, with fine dining and men of reputable stature. But Poe would let the devil himself come in if it meant a dollar to line his pocket. She would give Emmy time there, and pray… pray that she would come to her senses and return. The door would always be open. Aurora’s favorite spot, away from everything, came into view and she paced the mare to settle her from the gallop.

  Shutting her eyes and inhaling deeply, she prayed desperately, to the best of her ability. She prayed that God would replace anger with forgiveness, to fill hurt with hope and despair with life. After several moments a sort of calm and peace fell around her. If Roman, heaven forbid, ever did decide to leave and take Carrie Anne with him, she would be all alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Out on the range in August could squeeze the breath out of anyone. Aurora’s parched throat competed with the dry, hard-packed earthen soil, both desperate to be laden with water. Which is why today Aurora chose to stay near the house, needing a respite from smelly cattle and scorching sun. It wasn’t as if Roman ever really needed her anyway. She smiled across the way at Carrie Anne and watched her trickle water over the garden. Roman had not heeded to Donovan’s persistence to leave her. One victory she could lay claim to winning this summer.

  If her ears didn’t deceive her, she knew a rider was coming. Soon enough, she saw Sheriff Bradbury. What could he want? Aurora tossed down the leather strap she was mending and had a sudden thought of Emmy. Had something happened to her?

  Without acknowledging Philippe in any way, Corbin dismounted and handed over his horse. He sought out the area of the ranch.

  “What brings you out here?” Aurora asked, not kindly.

  He glanced at Carrie Anne, then to Philippe. “I need to talk to you.”

  She lifted her chin. It was interesting to her how confidence came when surrounded by friends. “Whatever you have to say, say it.”

  He smirked. “Have it your way. I’ve been doing some checking up on you. It has to do with your, ah… occupation in San Francisco.”

  “Come with me.” She didn’t need to have the others hear this.

  An appropriate distance later she snapped, “What do you care of my past?”

  He stepped in close and Philippe looked ready to come to her rescue. Discreetly, she lifted her palm to him, hoping he’d take heed and stand back.

  “I have to hand it to you, coming all the way out here to leave your past behind. It happens all the time, which is why I told you before, everybody’s business becomes my own.”

  “Please, why won’t you leave me alone?”

  “I feel like I should be compensated for what I know.”

  “I won’t be bribed.”

  “So you’ve said. However, in the long run, you’ll be whatever it is I say you will be.” His words were calm and confident.

  She shook her head in defiance. “You are wasting your breath. I’m not that way anymore.”

  Corbin picked at his shirt a moment as if weighing his thoughts before looking at her. “Once a whore… always a whore.”

  Aurora was backed against the wall and he knew it. She could come out with the truth and risk her reputation and the possibility of being ostracized. Or she had the opposite consequence, which, she judged correctly as she bore his stare, would be appalling. Her insides curled. He smiled shrewdly.

  Reading her troubled countenance, Philippe headed her way.

  Through the thin line affixed on her lips she said, “What do you want from me?” Her eyes dashed to Philippe, and she put on a pleasant smile as if she welcomed the sheriff’s visit.

  “Come to town, noon, tomorrow,” Corbin said. Then he turned and said loud enough for Philippe to hear, “It was so good to see you again, Aurora. You take care of yourself now.”

  Her smile faded and Philippe practically walked on Corbin’s heels to see him off. A shiver coursed through her. What was she going to do? His sour odor would not evaporate fast enough. Aurora hated that smell, common among scum. Just as she was gathering herself, Martin Ritter and his horse came roaring through the yard. “Roman’s hurt! Philippe come with me.” He stared hard at Aurora. “Best get the doctor.”


  And she would, but first she rushed to Carrie Anne who was about to have a fainting spell. “I can’t take care of you now and Roman will need you.” Aurora saw that her words were not registering with the hysterical wife. She shook her to sensibility. “You must stop it! I’ll be back as quick as possible. Get some water on to boil. Now, Carrie Anne!”

  Four nights of fever and delirium came to an end, finally. The doctor spoke to Aurora in low tones just outside the door, which Carrie Anne now opened.

  “Come in Doctor Hendrix, Aurora.”

  He sought his patient. “How is he?”

  “Doing better as of this morning. The fever’s broke.”

  With caution, he asked, “The signs I told you to watch for?”

  “None.”

  Not to be gratified until a brief examination was performed, he set open his medical bag. Dr. Hendrix scratched his head. “I don’t understand. No gangrene.”

  Roman opened his eyes slightly and the doctor continued his surprise. “You lucky son of a gun. Just a few days ago you had an atrocious gash on your shin and a shard of bone protruding from it.”

  Carrie Anne cried with joy and Martin appeared, hat in hand in the doorway, waiting to hear the worst. “He’s going to be fine,” Aurora said with a beaming smile.

  She was ever grateful of Reverend John’s faithful timing during his circuit. He’d made a round on them the day after Roman’s accident, and prayed for Roman to regain strength and healing. Aurora was always encouraged when he came. He was also a good shoulder to cry on when it came to her Emmy. She left out feeling abandoned by God at the sheriff’s attack on her. She didn’t want to throw too much the Reverend’s way. Besides, he’d been there for Roman and Carrie Anne, and that’s what needed to matter at the time.

  Aurora wanted to leave the couple alone to celebrate the good news and stepped onto the porch, where she saw Donovan ride in. Immediate thought of her appearance crossed her mind. Then she was upset that she even cared what she looked like in his uncouth presence. With an unamused glance her way, Donovan handed Philippe the reins to his horse and sauntered past her as if she blended into the weeds. It unnerved her as she witnessed a pleasant smile coming from him at seeing Carrie Anne. Was it so hard to send a smile her way as well? Too agitated to do anything else, Aurora brooded about, waiting as an outsider to this family in the cabin. It was an hour later when Donovan came from Roman’s. Aurora was fetching water and assumed the man was leaving.

 

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