Much Ado About Madams

by Jacquie Rogers

  Glancing over to the mirror, an unhappy and bored woman looked back at her. Trapped, too. And lonesome. She walked to the dresser and checked to see if her hairpins were all pointing the same direction. They were, and lined up as well. Nothing to do there.

  At least the Comfort Palace women weren’t isolated from humanity from five in the evening until morning like she was. She sighed again and picked up her hairbrush. A man groaned in loud ecstasy and Petunia giggled. Sadly, Lucinda didn’t think a single one of the ladies knew what it was like to have a man treat her with tenderness like Reese had shown her.

  She heard the clink of coins tossed on the dresser, then a door opened and closed, knowing that Petunia would be straightening up herself and the bed for the next customer.

  Love for a dollar. But then, Lucinda had no love at all.

  Shouts and a loud crash shattered her thoughts. The floor shuddered beneath her feet. She heard thuds and swearing. The piano music stopped.

  Before she could think better of it, she ran out the door, peering over the stairway railing at the melee below. Men punched each other—others sailed over tables, only to pull themselves up and jump into the fight again. They brawled with no thought to messing up the place.

  She flinched as one of the twins pulled a man off Holly and punched him in the midsection, then whapped him right in the jaw. He lifted her off the floor and gave her a hug as he pushed her into the storeroom. How sweet.

  The big Swede waded back into the fray, and grabbed a lanky cowboy who was about to bash his brother on the back of his head with a beer mug. Much to her dismay, Lucinda realized she’d gone halfway down the stairs. Just as she turned to run back up, someone caught her from behind, dragging her down right in the middle of the fight.

  She tripped on her skirts and fell to her hands and knees, heart racing. Something clunked her on the back of the head and fell to the floor beside her. She shook the stars out of her brain and grabbed the offending object—a broken chair leg. She had to get out of there! She came up swinging, trying to make her way to the storeroom to join Holly in relative safety.

  Men fell like flies, some knocking her this way and that, some apologizing, all jumping into the fray again. Midas and Titus fought like animals, each taking on two men at a time. Fannie sat on the bar flailing a table leg at any noggin within reach. Felicia crouched at the end of the bar, kicking the feet from under all men who came near.

  Lucinda had just made it to the storeroom when Reese burst through the front door, hollering for everyone to calm down, then jumping into the fracas himself. He picked out the biggest, meanest looking man in the room and punched him right in the nose. The bald, muscle-bound brute shook his head, then charged Reese.

  He’ll kill Reese! Lucinda grabbed the rope coiled on the whiskey barrels. She’d seen cowhands rope steers, and the man Reese was fighting was a whole lot bigger.

  She wound the end of the rope around her wrist a few times, then twirled the loop in circles over her head just like the cattlemen did. But the bar was in the way.

  Reese grunted as he took a hard jab to his stomach and another to the chin. She had to do something! She hitched up her skirt, jumped onto a box, then onto the bar.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” shouted Fannie.

  “I’m going to rope that awful man!”

  “Get to it, then, girl!” Fannie cracked another brawler who made the unfortunate mistake of falling within the reach of her flailing table leg.

  Lucinda twirled the lasso over her head again, and again, waiting to get a clear shot.

  Reese connected with another punch and dodged the hulk’s roundhouse right.

  “Christ, woman, throw the damned rope!” Fannie demanded. “He ain’t gonna last long against that bull!”

  She threw the rope for all she was worth. But it went up instead of out—falling onto the floor. With as much haste as she could muster, she re-coiled the rope and searched for a better vantage point. The stairs!

  She jumped off the bar, ran up the stairs, and threw the loop.

  Just then, Reese punched the burly monster in his jaw and both men fell to the floor.

  The rope sailed through the air, hooked over the chandelier and fell to the floor again. Reese stepped into the loop and tripped.

  “On, no!” She ran down the stairs to untangle him, but the rope tightened around her wrist and jerked her up in midair. The other end of the loop that had captured Reese’s foot jerked him upside-down, swinging next to her.

  Chapter 10

  “What the hell are you doing?” Reese bellowed as he dangled from the chandelier by Lucinda’s rope looped around his boot. His head swayed a few feet above the floor, just high enough that he couldn’t touch the floor with his fingers.

  Lucinda gritted her teeth as the pressure on her shoulder grew by the moment. She thought it would surely separate as the pain intensified.

  Then she spied the bloodied hulking beast attempting to stand. The man Reese had bested had come to! Despite her agony, she pumped her legs, swung over and kicked him in the chin. He fell back to the floor with a thunk.

  “Yahoo!” came a chorus of voices, accompanied by applause.

  Lucinda looked around for the first time since the horrid brawl began. All the ladies of the Comfort Palace, Midas and Titus, and the customers still able to stand were cheering her. Yes, suffragists can meet any challenge! She wished she could quit swinging, though, because every movement brought stabs of fire to her wrist and shoulder.

  She bumped into Reese on the rebound.

  “God-almighty-thunderation!” Reese yelled.

  “Please don’t swear,” she said automatically. At least he’d stopped her from swinging. She searched in vain for a way to loosen the rope from her aching arm. But even if she could release her wrist, it would send Reese’s head to the hard floor in a hurry. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that, any more than he appreciated her saving him in the first place. Men were like that. Ungrateful.

  “Get me down and clear out this damned place. Now!”

  Reese’s patience was clearly running low, but for the life of her, Lucinda couldn’t think of any way to lower safely. Her wrist ached and her hand numbed. She couldn’t wiggle her fingers anymore, not that she wanted to. She had to get down before bodily damage was done.

  She heard the ominous creak of straining wood and looked up. Little cracks in the ceiling spread around the chandelier base like a spiderweb. The chandelier was coming loose!

  “All right men, quit your gawking!” ordered Fannie as she hopped off the bar. She pointed her trusty table leg at the twins. “Midas and Titus, pick up Reese. Felicia, help me hold up Miss Sharpe. If we lift both of ‘em up at the same time, we oughtta be able to get the loop loose from his ankle. Then we can untie her.”

  “I can help,” Gus said as he sauntered through the kitchen door.

  Fannie planted her fists on her hips and glared at him. “And just where the hell have you been?”

  “Fishing.”

  “Hmph. Get over there, then, and hoist up Miss Sharpe. On the count of three, everyone lift. One...two...three!”

  Lucinda felt Gus lift her and the rope slacken. With her free hand, she unwrapped the rope from her cramped wrist. “I’m loose. You can put me down now.” The sharp pains in her aching shoulder only allowed her to lower her arm slowly. Everything from her neck to her fingertips felt like it had been slashed open with a dull knife.

  Gently, Gus lowered her until she stood on the solid floor. It was a welcome feeling, too. She didn’t plan to swing by her wrist again for a very long time.

  “My God, look at your hand!”

  Lucinda studied her purple and swollen appendage as if it were someone else’s, not able to sense her hand at all. Nauseated, she sank to the last riser of the stairs. She couldn’t move her fingers. Her wrist stung and her shoulder burned.

  The twins had lowered Reese to the floor and released his boot from the loop. The second he was f
reed, he jumped up and stomped over to her, red-faced and eyes flashing.

  “What the blooming hell were you thinking?”

  She cringed at his bark and bit her lip to hold back her tears, then called upon all her inner strength to retain some semblance of composure. “I only wanted to help . . .”

  “Well, you did a piss-poor . . .” He grabbed her numb, swollen hand and started rubbing it furiously.

  The stinging made her gasp. “Ow! You’re hurting me!”

  Reese continued rubbing hard. “We’ve got to get the blood circulating.”

  Where she’d felt nothing before, his rubbing brought fire shooting all the way up her arm. She pulled back but he held fast, stroking her hand with both of his.

  “Don’t resist unless you want gangrene,” he growled.

  Lucinda gritted her teeth. What he said made sense, considering the pain, and she certainly couldn’t stomach the thought of losing her hand so she bore the pain even though his vigorous massage was excruciating. Suffragists are strong, she reminded herself. But a tear escaped down her cheek despite her best efforts.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said quietly. “I have to do this.”

  She gazed into his eyes and nodded. He truly did sound apologetic.

  “Aw, hell.” He swept her up into his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. He kicked the door open and laid her gently onto the bed. He sat beside her and continued massaging her hand and wrist.

  His presence sent tingles where they shouldn’t have been and she couldn’t resist watching him watch her. He brushed her hand with his lips ever so gently, then kissed her wrist. The pain lessened—a truly amazing thing.

  “I think it’s better now,” she whispered.

  He kissed her forearm and worked his way up past her elbow, then slowly kissed his way to her shoulder. “Yes, it’s much better now,” he murmured.

  Yes, it is.

  His breath brushed her nape and suddenly she didn’t want him to stop. Her skin prickled with anticipation everywhere his lips touched. She forgot the pain in her arm altogether.

  When his lips found the sensitive skin just above the rounded neckline of her dress, she knew she’d lost every bit of sense she ever had. She also knew she couldn’t stop him—not this time. She had to have whatever it was that he could give her.

  Suddenly he jumped to his feet, leaving her cold and bereft.

  “Do me a favor,” he growled. “Don’t ever try to save me again.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him charge out of the room, then let her head flop back to the pillow, hoping her body would forget his touch and that her brain would regain some sense. The pain in her shoulder and wrist returned with a vengeance.

  She’d never figure that man out, but he’d saved her from casting off the only shred of respectability she had. And she would have given him everything if he had wanted it. She should thank him, but for some reason, she felt a lot more disappointment than gratitude.

  * * * * *

  Reese nearly forgot his Stetson as he kicked broken furniture out of his path to the front door, but luckily he spied it in the corner. He retrieved it, jammed it on his head, and made his way to the porch, not seeing anyone. He knew they were there, but it was like they stood in one of those daguerreotypes instead of being real, breathing people.

  Miss Sharpe was real, though. Damn! The last thing he wanted was to get mushy over some high-flying, respectable woman!

  Yup, she was high-flying, all right, in more ways than one.

  “Your bonnet’s a might crumpled there, boss,” Gus observed.

  Fannie laughed. “His hat might be a little bent, but I bet his other parts ain’t.”

  Reese scowled at their poor attempts at conversation and stomped out to the barn.

  Women!

  * * * * *

  The next day, Fannie called the Comfort Palace whores into the office a few minutes before class time.

  “I’d hoped to come up with a way to get Reese and Miss Sharpe to admit that they loved each other so they’d wanna hitch up. Those two are a hell of a lot more stubborn than any of us thought.”

  And they hadn’t even dealt with the little detail about Miss Sharpe’s mama killing Reese’s daddy. This whole job had been about as easy as matching up a bullfrog with a lima bean, what with Miss Sharpe stringing Reese up by the boot.

  Fannie waited for the women to be seated, noting that they all sat like Miss Sharpe had taught them, even when she wasn’t looking. Petunia raised her hand and Fannie nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

  “He’s falling for her—I just know he is.” Petunia grinned. “Did you see the way he swooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs? Why, it was just about the most romantical thing I ever did see.” Petunia crossed her hands over her heart and sighed.

  “But we don’t know what happened betwixt them in her room, though,” Fannie reminded the ladies. “Reese came charging outta there hell-bent for election.”

  Felicia stood and everyone looked at her, waiting for her to speak. Finally, she said, “A man just doesn’t get that mad unless he’s in love. I don’t think love is the problem. I think they’re both just plain stupid.” She sat down.

  The room quieted, then Fannie saw Trinket raise her hand. “Go ahead, Trinket.”

  “I think they’re both too damned smart to get married. After all, she can’t be a suffragist if she has bawling kids hanging from her skirts, and he can’t run no whorehouse with a respectable wife and a litter of young ‘uns.”

  “We don’t want him to run a whorehouse,” Fannie reminded her.

  “But he don’t know that.”

  “No,” replied Chrissy, “but if he loved her, he wouldn’t give a shit, would he?”

  The ladies murmured their agreement.

  Holly slowly raised her hand, her gaze darting at each woman like they might jump up and smack her one. Fannie didn’t know if that girl would ever be anything but timid, no matter how much she worked with her. “Stand up and speak, Holly.”

  She stood, fidgeting with a lock of hair. “I think he needs to save her,” she said quietly.

  “What?”

  “I said, I think he needs to save her. She saved him—well, not really, but she tried to save him. A man needs to feel like a man. That’s what you keep telling me. She saved him, so he needs to save her. Right?” She sat down and folded her hands on her lap.

  “By golly, I think she’s right,” agreed Sadie. “He probably got his manly feelings wounded last night, him hanging by his boot and all.”

  The whores laughed. After the room quieted, Fannie asked them, “Just how do you think we oughtta convince him to save her, when she ain’t in no danger?”

  “I’d say it only matters if he thinks she’s in danger,” Felicia noted. “With Hank due back in Dickshooter anytime now, Reese wouldn’t have a moment’s doubt that the old bastard would do Miss Sharpe dirty.”

  “So what are you thinking, then?”

  “That we have one of the twins capture Miss Sharpe and hide her, then have Reese rescue her.”

  Fannie nodded her agreement, although she had her qualms. “And just how do we get Miss Sharpe and one of the twins out of town?”

  Felicia didn’t come up with an answer. Finally, Holly raised her hand again, and stood before Fannie had a chance to call on her. Maybe there was some hope for the girl, after all.

  “We could tell her that there’s a suffragist meeting in Silver City.” Holly sat quickly and folded her hands on her lap, as if she’d never stood in the first place.

  “Too far. We need both twins here during working hours,” Fannie reminded her. “But the suffragist meeting would work—we just need to figure out where.”

  “How ‘bout Oreana?” Felicia suggested. “She’ll be safe from Hank, because he’s in Montana and won’t be back for a month.”

  “No, I think Silver City would work fine,” Fannie said. “Reese has business in Silver, so if
we have Gus take her, Reese would probably take over and send Gus back. That way, we wouldn’t be shorthanded.”

  Petunia made a mad dash for the door.

  Fannie caught her arm. “Where the hell do ya think you’re going?”

  “I have to take a bath!”

  Felicia snorted. “The stage must be due in today,” she commented above the women’s giggles. “And stagedriver.”

  “Go sit down, Petunia,” Fannie ordered. “You’ll have plenty of time after class to smell purty. Logan won’t be here for another couple of hours yet.”

  * * * * *

  All the ladies stopped laughing when Lucinda entered the office. Finally, she thought, they understood how to behave in a classroom.

  “Good afternoon, class.”

  No response. She surveyed each face, only to find innocent expressions. “Before we start, do you know when the stage comes in next?”

  Petunia’s hand shot up. “This very afternoon!”

  “All we have to do is keep track of Petunia’s baths,” murmured Felicia.

  “It’s a hell of a lot better than smelling her,” Trinket observed.

  “Enough! We don’t question a lady’s bathing habits.” But even Lucinda had noted that Petunia’s baths tended to correspond with the arrival of the stage.

  “Today’s lesson is about the Civil War.”

  Fannie shook her head. “There ain’t no reason we need to know any more about that.”

  Lucinda shot her best schoolteacher glare at Fannie. So now that the ladies were able to read, they wanted to plan the lessons, too. Not in this classroom. She was the teacher, and she’d determine the lessons for the day, especially after yesterday’s debacle. “Of course there is, and we’re going to learn it.”

  Before Fannie had a chance to speak again, Lucinda began the lecture. “The union of states was threatened . . .”

  Felicia broke in. “That depends on how you look at it.”

  “I ain’t a Yank or a Reb,” Fannie said. “I’m just a whore, trying to get some education. So I don’t look at it any particular way, ‘cepting war is sure hard on my customers.”