“Let me just take up the hem on this one,” Mae said. It was a third skirt, made from the same fabric as one of the blouses—dark brown littered with tiny red flowers. “I’m afraid it will just get dragged through mud and ruined. I’ll have it ready by morning.” These last words were spoken as Mae headed toward the door, skirt flung over one arm.
“Mae,” Gloria called after her, “that’s really not—”
“Let her do it,” Sadie said softly, her hand on Gloria’s arm. “It will make her feel good.”
The window was open, and the fresh spring evening floated past the curtains. The absence of Mae’s chatter left a comfortable silence in the room. Gloria, Sadie, and Biddy sipped steaming mugs of tea and made a collected effort to ignore the wave of masculine laughter drifting across the yard that separated them from Jewell’s parlor.
“Sounds like a crowd,” Gloria said.
Nobody spoke.
“Brisk night like this,” she continued, “brings them out of the woods, it seems.”
Still no response.
“Reckon Jewell’s gonna be tearing over here lookin’ for—”
“The new girls can handle it,” Sadie said. “Tonight, I just …”
Silence returned for a moment until Biddy’s tiny voice said, “You are so lucky.”
“Who’s lucky?” Gloria asked.
“You are.” Biddy lifted her eyes and forced Gloria to meet her gaze. “You don’t have to go over there.”
“Listen, Liebling,” Sadie said, “none of us has to go over there tonight. Tonight, we are just sitting here talking. Like old friends.”
“That’s just tonight,” Biddy said. “What about tomorrow night? And the next? Gloria’s getting a home. A family. She’ll never have to do this again.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Gloria said. “I’m going to be back, you know.”
Biddy looked at Gloria with a wide-eyed, incredulous stare. “Why would you come back?”
“Because the alternative is spendin’ the rest of her life dirt poor and pregnant, stompin’ kitchen mice with her bare feet.”
The three women turned, startled as Jewell’s husky voice invaded their conversation. Her pudgy hand reached in through the open window, grasped the curtain, and snatched it aside to reveal her puffy, rouged face.
“Jewell, you dog,” Sadie cried, blotting at the tea she’d spilled in her lap. “You scared us to death!”
“Hush!” Gloria hissed. “You’ll wake up the babies.”
“In case you ladies of leisure hadn’t noticed,” Jewell continued, her lowered voice taking on a more menacing quality, “we’re getting quite a crowd gathered over at the house. Rumor has it they’re looking for some company. And here I see some lovely ladies who would be just perfect for the job.” She perched her elbows on the windowsill and seemed to be settling in for a long conversation. It was the same pose Gloria had seen her in when she first arrived at Silver Peak.
“Please, Jewell,” Sadie said, “we are just having a nice evening here.”
“Yeah. And there’s some gentlemen with pockets full of money who want to have a nice evening, too.”
Biddy seemed to be shrinking into her chair. Her head drooped down until her chin touched her chest.
“So break out a bottle and give them some cards,” Sadie said, one hand drifting protectively to Biddy’s shoulder. “These men are pretty easily entertained.”
“They don’t pay to play cards,” Jewell said. “I think it’s time you girls remember that you work for me. I ain’t exactly runnin’ a tea room.”
“Why don’t you come in and join us?” Gloria asked, gesturing toward the chair recently vacated by Mae.
“Aw, I don’t know,” Jewell said. “I’ve got some company to tend to.”
“Come on, Jewell,” Sadie said. “Sit and have a drink with us. It is Gloria’s last night.”
“I’ll get you some tea,” Biddy said, scuttling from her chair.
But the next second Jewell burst through the door holding her slim silver flask. “Never mind the tea, little one. I brought my own drink.”
Jewell settled her generous bottom into the chair. Her breathing was labored, and each puff carried the tiniest whiff of pungent gin. Baby Danny let out a little yelp and stretched himself into a state of full wakefulness.
“So, the little prince is up, eh?” Jewell said before taking a generous swig from her flask. “I don’t wanna listen to him scream.”
Gloria scooped Danny up from his bed and held him to her shoulder, delighted at the way his face nuzzled into her neck.
“You know,” Jewell continued, a slight slur invading her speech, “I sure ain’t gonna miss listenin’ to them kids wailin’ all hours.”
“Not much of a mother type, are you?” Sadie said.
“No more’n you are. I’m the mama to all my girls. That’s enough for me.”
Gloria noticed a slight shudder from Biddy.
Jewell leaned forward in her chair and pointed with her flask. “And from what I know, your mamas weren’t no different from me.”
“You’re not like my mother,” Biddy said quietly. “You’re not like her at all.”
“Well, listen, little missy,” Jewell said, “you’re more than welcome to head on out and make a life on your own. Like our little friend here.”
Gloria held Danny closer. “Stop it, Jewell,” she said.
“But she really isn’t on her own, is she? No ma’am. She’s living every whore’s dream.”
“And just what dream is that?” Sadie asked. “Getting stuck with some man’s baby? Or getting hauled off to some God-forsaken wilderness to churn butter and watch crops shrivel in the sun?”
“I’m not going to churn butter,” Gloria said, but neither woman acknowledged her.
“It’s the dream,” Jewell said, leaning forward, “of some man comin’ along, sweepin’ you off your back, and takin’ you to be the little wife.”
“You are forgetting,” Sadie said, “that lots of us have been the little wife. I have been the little wife. It is not my dream.”
“It’s my dream,” Biddy said. Jewell shot her a look that sent her skittering back into silence.
“If you must know,” Gloria said, standing to walk the newly restless Danny, “it isn’t my dream, either. And it isn’t his.”
“He is a good man,” Sadie said. “He will marry you. I know he will.”
“I don’t want him to marry me. Besides, he won’t because he’s such a good man.”
Jewell let out a gasping expletive and settled back into her chair. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”
Gloria didn’t know how to explain it. Every time John William came to visit, he prayed. Every time he held his daughter, a reverent calm came over him. He had a presence of strength and peace about him, making him so unlike any man she’d ever known. He had loved his wife. He loved his daughter. He had never shown Gloria any measure of disrespect, but treated her with such distanced politeness that she felt like a piece of furniture in the room. Other religious men made her feel dirty, unworthy. John William just made her aware of all she was lacking in her life. He also made it clear that he had no interest in making her anything other that what she was.
“It means men like him don’t marry women like me,” Gloria said.
“So you think you’re just going to come crawlin’ back here again when this one’s had enough of you?” Jewell gestured with her open flask. “Tell me, is that what happened with Danny’s pa?”
“I came here,” Gloria said, “because I thought you’d be able to help me. Give me a place to stay until I figured things out. Well, I’ve figured things out and I’ll be gone in the morning.”
“And just what,” Jewell said, staggering to her feet to confront the now pacing Gloria, “do I get out of this whole deal? Men been climbin’ the walls for you and I got to tell them, ‘Oh, no, she just had the baby. Give her time. Give her a few weeks.’ Well, it’s over two months now,
you eatin’ my food, takin’ up prime space, and tomorrow you go traipsin’ off with some man without earnin’ or payin’ me one red cent.”
The last of these words were spoken so close to Gloria’s face that the sour smell of whiskey was overpowering. Danny balled up a little fist and was working up to a wail until Gloria switched him to the other shoulder to distance him from Jewell.
“She’s earned her keep,” Sadie said. “She has done her share.”
“Of what?” Jewell swung around to face Sadie, nearly losing her balance. “Of dishes? Washing? Servin’ drinks? She’s givin’ this little one ideas that you can earn your place in my house without doin’ the very business my house is here for.”
Biddy cringed further into her chair, avoiding the hand that gestured so near her face.
“Look, Jewell,” Gloria said, “I gave you everything I—”
“Don’t start with that, sweetie,” Jewell said. “I know what a piece like you goes for in the big towns, and I know you had to walk out of there with more than what you gave me.”
“I told you I—”
“And I get nothin’ in return. Nothin’ for givin’ up such a nice place for you and that little bas—”
“Don’t call him that,” Biddy said. She stood and held her arms out for Gloria to hand the baby over to her. “He’s a sweet little boy, and he’s going to have a father.”
“Ah, yes,” Jewell said. “The sainted John William MacGregan. Tell me, Gloria, how much of your little fortune did you promise to this man?”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Sadie said, standing now, too. “MacGregan doesn’t need her money.”
“I don’t have any money,” Gloria said. “Besides, I don’t think he’d take it if I did.”
Jewell snorted. “Why, ain’t it good enough for him?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good Glory, girl,” Jewell said, her voice thick with exasperation. “You’re not good enough for him? Your money ain’t good enough for him? What kind of saint do you think he is? Because I know a few things about this man, and he don’t have much right to tell you—”
“Stop right there, Jewell.” Sadie placed herself between Jewell and Gloria. Biddy sat, quiet in her chair, shielding Danny from the confrontation.
“No, I got to say this, Sadie. I can put up with a lot of things, but I just can’t stand a hypocrite.”
“He’s not—”
Jewell threw up a hand to hush her. “This one,” she pointed to Biddy, “thinks a baby ain’t illegitimate just because it’s sweet. This one thinks that she ain’t really a prostitute if she hides her cash and plays at bein’ a pioneer. You think a man can have himself a little family and make everyone forget that he’s a—”
“Stop it, Jewell!”
“A what?” Gloria asked, concerned.
“Nothing,” Sadie said, looking at Jewell intently. Sadie faced her head on, squaring her shoulders and pulling herself to her full height, a full head taller than Jewell. As she spoke, she took step after step, forcing Jewell to back up to the door. “He’s a good, honest, kind man. He’ll be a kind, gentle, loving father.”
“I just think she should know,” Jewell said.
“Know what?” Gloria asked.
“Tell me, Jewell,” Sadie said, “is this the concerned mother coming out? Or is this just a bitter old woman who can’t stand the thought of anybody being happy?”
By now, Jewell was up against the door. Sadie reached around behind her to grab the latch and push the door open.
“Get out,” she said.
“Gloria invited me. It’s still her house tonight.”
“Jewell,” Gloria said, “I’ll be back. I’ll make it up to you, everything that I owe you. I promise.”
“You just be careful,” Jewell said, straining to see around Sadie. “You just remember who you are and don’t let anyone tell you different. He ain’t no better than you, not by a mile.”
With that, she left, and Sadie shut the door. By now little Danny was beyond comfort, and Kate was beginning to stir.
“What did she mean?” Gloria asked, taking Danny away from Biddy and settling down to nurse.
“Nothing to concern yourself with.” Sadie crossed the room and took baby Kate into her arms. “I’m really going to miss this little one.”
“What aren’t you telling me about MacGregan?”
“It’s nothing you need to know. Listen, Gloria, he is a good man. You know that. But he isn’t perfect. Nobody is.”
“Jewell seemed—”
“Jewell doesn’t want you to be happy. Jewell doesn’t want you to leave. You can’t trust her to tell you anything.”
“But I should trust you?”
“Trust her,” Biddy said. “He might not be a husband, but he’ll be a good father for your little one. Which is more important?”
Gloria looked down at the beautiful face of her son, tugging hungrily at her breast. Right now she was all he needed, but she couldn’t imagine what kind of man she could possibly groom him to be.
“Do I need to be afraid?” Gloria asked.
“Absolutely not.” Sadie knelt at Gloria’s feet. She laid baby Kate in her skirts and smiled down into the tiny face. “I would never let anyone hurt you. Or them.”
“Look,” Biddy said, her voice excited. She was looking out the window. “Ben Danglars is coming to visit.” She turned and smiled, flushed. “I think he fancies me.”
“Go talk to him,” Sadie said, her voice full of affection for this young girl. “Just talk to him. Don’t go upstairs.”
“What if he wants to go upstairs?”
“Most of these men are just lonely,” Sadie said. “They want someone to talk to just as much as anything. Talk to him.”
Biddy’s face beamed a picture of excitement and relief. With more life than Gloria had ever seen in her, she skipped to the door.
“Wait, take that with you.” Gloria nodded her head toward the green dress with black velvet trim she had been wearing earlier in the evening. “You’ll have to get Mae to cut it down a bit, but it’s yours.”
Biddy ran over to hug Gloria’s neck and bent to kiss the baby. Then, clutching her new treasure, she bounded from the room.
“Well, that’s a fine thing,” Sadie said with mock reproach. “Maybe I wanted that dress.”
Gloria laughed at the idea of this burly woman trying to fit into her clothes. “I have a better present for you, Sadie. You can have my curtains.”
“Your curtains?” Sadie said, as if Gloria had promised her all the gold in California. “You would really give me such a treasure?”
Gloria smiled at the sarcasm. “Trust me. You’ll get a lot more use out of them than you would any of my old dresses. Besides, they’re very special to me. They were part of the last room I shared with my mother.”
“So, why don’t you want to take them with you?”
“Because I don’t want to take any part of that life with me. Because I want them to be a gift. To you. Promise to take them down right after I leave. Don’t let Jewell have them. Take them to your room and keep them for yourself. Will you promise me that?”
“I promise.”
The evening darkened steadily as Gloria sat, sometimes in conversation, sometimes in silence, with the only friend she’d ever had. Late in the night, Sadie left so Gloria could have a good night’s rest. But Gloria did not sleep. Silent in the darkness, she moved about the tiny cabin getting her things together. She would take only the new outfits Mae had sewn for her; every other dress she owned she draped carefully over the room’s two chairs. She opened the green case that had become her mother’s legacy and prepared to fill it with her meager possessions. But, before she did, there was one final thing to do.
Working by moonlight, Gloria gently pried the fabric lining from inside the lid of the case. She groped around inside the opening; small notes crumpled in her hands. She counted them in the pale silver square of light that fell just
below the window until she knew it was all there. One thousand dollars. Cash.
Carefully, making sure to keep her head clear of the window, Gloria used the tiny scissors of her sewing kit to snip the hem of the yellow sprigged curtains. Then, two by two, spread evenly to disguise any bulges, each note was tucked into the hem, and the hem meticulously re-stitched. It was the only feat of sewing Gloria had ever attempted. The kit itself had been a gift from Mae.
Satisfied, she fell across her bed into a restive, uneven sleep.
In just a few hours, moonlight became dawn, and John William MacGregan arrived, sitting high in a wagon driven by a strong team of horses.
He tipped his hat to her, and she knew he was a gentleman.
He showed her the space in the back of the wagon he had cleared for the babies’ makeshift beds, and she knew he would be a kind and loving father.
When Mae came bustling out of the house to bring Gloria the newly hemmed skirt, he sent her right back inside to wrap it in paper to protect it from any trail dust.
When Sadie and the other girls ceremoniously presented her with the calico bonnet and laughingly proclaimed her “Queen of the Oregon Trail,” he went down on one knee and cupped his hands to make a step for her to climb up into the wagon.
Gloria had never considered her feet to be small, but once John William’s massive grip enveloped her foot, she had the distinct impression that if he were to apply even the slightest pressure, he could crush every bone. But she knew just as well that the same strength could lift her, effortlessly, into this wagon and into a new life. When she looked at him for reassurance, his mischievous grin gave no indication which of the two he was more inclined to do.
Saints and angels, joined in concert,
Sing the praises of the Lamb;
While the blissful seats of heaven
Ten Thousand Charms Page 8