by Paty Jager
Sharing a meal with Gil should prove to be a little more interesting. If not heart breaking. She knew he only asked her to dinner to get information out of her. No one would ask someone as plain and accident-prone as herself to dinner for any other reason. She sighed. However, it was her first dinner offer, and she wasn’t about to pass it up. It could be the only one she ever received.
Sitting here daydreaming wasted time. A trip to the mercantile to buy a dress was in order if she planned to have time to clean up and get changed before seven.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” she said to Jeremy.
“You really going to eat with him and dress up and all?” Jeremy flashed a crooked smile, and his eyes danced with merriment.
“What? You think I can’t look like a girl when I want to?”
“It’s that you’re wanting to.” He jumped up and smacked her shoulder. “You’ve never wanted to before.”
“Maybe I’ve been thinking it was time I acted like Ma would have wanted instead of hiding behind these trousers.” She knew her ma would understand why she’d traipsed around the country dressed like a boy. After her uncle sold her to be a whore at a brothel, she’d bashed the first man who pawed her alongside the head and ran away, leaving a cursing man and madam in her wake. No doubt, if the madam ever caught her, she’d have to pay back the money paid to her uncle.
At nineteen, she was old and homely enough no man would think of her as anything other than a spinster. Even though deep-down she wished a man would look at her with yearning in his eyes. However, it seemed men had a hard time seeing past her clumsiness. Dressed as a boy they laughed and thought it was cute, but she knew the minute she put on a dress they would all have expectations. She would have to act like the ladies she saw walking slow, wearing bonnets and white lacy gloves.
Darcy snorted. She’d rather never have a man than wear them frilly little gloves that didn’t protect your hands from barbwire and stickers. She thought of Gil and groaned. He was almost worth wearing the silly gloves. Almost.
“You goin’ after that dress or not?” Jeremy chided, jumping into the chair behind the desk. “I’ll keep an eye on things while you’re gone.”
“You do that.” Darcy ruffled his hair and headed out the door. She’d never bought a dress before. The only ones she’d ever worn were made by her ma.
She strolled out into the middle of the street. The more she ambled around town, the more it called to her. The lazy river just beyond the south side of town, though strewn with silt boxes and bent over prospectors, was a refreshing sight. The sluggishness of the river made a contrasting backdrop to the sound of hooves pulling heavy loads in and out of town all times of the day and the miners coming in and whooping it up when they hit a big one. Yep, this town was on the verge of losing its innocence, but then again, so was she.
Her cheeks heated thinking of her invitation to dinner. She needed a dress. She also needed to keep her identity a secret. Darcy looked up the side street climbing the hill on the north side of town. A large two-story house stood by itself a short hike up the rise. It resembled one she’d seen in the wealthier part of Portland. The building belonged to Mrs. Danforth. The sign on the side of the establishment read: Baths $1.
Darcy scratched her dusty hair and raised her arm, sniffing. Putting a new dress on a body this dirty would be a shame. She looked at the mercantile and back at the house. If she walked into the mercantile and purchased a dress, then showed up in it at the restaurant someone was bound to take notice. Best to check out Mrs. Danforth. See if she’d be willing to keep her secret and purchase a dress for her. Less chance Craven would put two and two together should someone run off at the mouth about the marshal buying a dress. It also wouldn’t hurt to get another woman to buy one since she didn’t have a clue about fashion.
She walked up the street and climbed the steps to the wide porch. A large oak door loomed in front of her. Darcy took a step closer and knocked.
“Come in, door’s open,” crowed a gravely voice.
Darcy pushed the heavy door open and stood in a well-lit hallway leading to a grand, sweeping staircase. A sweet floral scent wafted through the elegant entry.
“To your left!” squawked the voice.
Darcy jumped and looked in the direction of the sound. The head of a large, brightly colored bird bobbed up and down as he danced from one foot to the other on a wooden perch in a wire cage. She’d never seen anything like it. Darcy took a step forward. He ruffled his feathers and squawked again. “To your left!”
Ignoring the urge to inspect the bird, she followed the instructions. And stepped into the fanciest parlor she’d ever seen. The furniture was velvet. Large, ornately framed pictures of women in next to nothing hung on the walls.
Her mouth went dry, and her body began to shake. This wasn’t just a bath house. It was what she’d run away from.
“May I help you?” The proper sounding voice jolted her into action.
Darcy turned to the voice, ready to fight to leave the building. A regal-looking woman stood in the doorway, a polite, interested smile on her face. Darcy judged her to be about the same age her ma would have been had she lived. The woman’s brown hair had a touch of silver woven in the soft waves pulled back into a braided bun behind her head. She appeared classier than the last woman she’d met in a brothel.
The woman moved so gracefully, she appeared to float into the room. A gown of brilliant blue concealed her body yet showed a well-endowed female. She didn’t look a thing like the weathered, alcoholic who ran the brothel Darcy fled.
“Are you Mrs. Danforth?” Darcy gulped and wished she could move like the woman standing in front of her. All her life she’d wanted to enter a room without people expecting her to trip.
“Yes. Why, are you looking for me?”
“This is a brothel.” Darcy turned to leave.
“You look like you could use a bath.” Mrs. Danforth was beside her so quickly and silently it made Darcy back away for fear she’d be held against her will, again.
“I ain’t—”
“You aren’t what?” The woman had a motherly look. The kind her own ma would give her when she wasn’t quite behaving.
“I’m not here to work.”
The woman laughed a soft rumble that made her ample chest bounce. “I wouldn’t want you to.”
She should have known a woman this classy wouldn’t take on any homely girls. A wave of relieve washed over her. She liked the woman, but feared the idea of being in a brothel even for a bath.
”I-I was asked to supper tonight and was wondering…” She pulled her hat off, and her matted braid tumbled down her back.
Surprise sparked in the woman’s eyes, before a smile spread across her face. The woman laughed. She took Darcy by the elbow and gently drew her over to the sofa.
“Does Tobias Craven know he has a young woman as his marshal?”
“No ma’am.” Darcy replied. “And I’d appreciate you not telling him.”
The woman tilted her head and laughed. “I see where some of the ill-mannered buffoons around here would think you were a young man.” She motioned for Darcy to sit. “And why you would want them to. Not too many men like having a woman around whose clearer thinking than they. Sit down and tell me why you came to Mrs. Danforth’s.”
Darcy sat on the edge of the fuzzy sofa and looked at the woman beside her. She wanted to be like this woman. Full of confidence and looking like she stepped right out of a newspaper advertisement for women’s wear.
“A man asked me to dinner tonight.” She looked at the woman half expecting her to laugh at the very idea of a man wanting to buy her dinner. When she didn’t laugh, it bolstered Darcy’s confidence and she continued, “I don’t own a dress, well one that fits me, and I was wondering if you could help me buy one at the mercantile.” She stumbled on. “I know you don’t know me, but I don’t know anyone in this town, besides my brother and Mr. Craven.” Darcy looked at the woman. “I don’t want him knowi
ng I’m a girl. I wouldn’t have a job, and me and my brother would have to move on.”
Mrs. Danforth laughed softly as though they both had just shared a wonderful secret. “Honey, Tobias Craven is a fool. All he cares about are money and his own satisfactions. If you were to stand in front of him in a dress he wouldn’t even know it was his marshal.” She eyed Darcy. “What about the man you’re having dinner with?”
Darcy stared at the woman. “He knows.”
The woman laughed again. “I’m sure he does, or he wouldn’t ask you to have dinner. You must know him pretty well if he’s found out you’re a girl?”
Darcy blushed, remembering his hands on her body. “Yeah, I guess. I mean I know who he is, and we’ve talked a couple times.” Her fingers touched the coin in her trouser pocket. “He gave me money to buy a dress for tonight.”
Mrs. Danforth grinned. “Then we better get you a dress for tonight if he wants you to dine with him that much.”
Darcy found herself swooped out of the parlor, up the grand staircase, and into a bedroom. “This isn’t going to the mercantile,” she protested.
“One of my girls is your size. She won’t mind sharing for a good cause and it saves time.” Mrs. Danforth opened a cupboard. Her upper body disappeared inside as she searched through the contents of the wardrobe.
Darcy looked around the room. Her mouth dropped open in rapture. Material she could see right through draped a large four-poster bed. Mrs. Danforth’s bustle stuck out of a cupboard next to a tall, oval mirror. The floral carpet muffled her footsteps as she crossed to the wall. Darcy traced the smooth design of a flower indented in the fuzzy, maroon wallpaper with her finger. The brothel she’d been sold to was a rundown old house with squeaky beds and mice running amuck.
“You like my wallpaper?” Mrs. Danforth asked.
Darcy spun around, pulling her hand next to her belly as if the wallpaper burned her.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her gaze dropped to the beautiful dark green dress in the woman’s hands. The color and sheen drew her across the room. The cool, smooth fabric under her fingers sent shivers of delight up her spine.
“This should fit you.” Mrs. Danforth held the dress up to Darcy.
“I can’t. This is too fine for me to wear.” Backing up, she put distance between herself and the magnificent dress. She longed to feel it on, but knew deep down if she wore the dress it would be ruined, just like everything beautiful in her life had been ruined by her clumsiness.
“With your coloring it will look wonderful and that man won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.” Mrs. Danforth smiled.
Darcy looked at the dress and thought of Gil. What would his reaction be? She searched the woman’s enthusiastic face for any sign of dishonesty. All she saw was a woman’s delight in helping.
The dress was gorgeous. Many nights huddled with Jeremy in a barn or livery, she dreamed of wearing fancy clothes and dancing with a handsome man. There wouldn’t be any dancing tonight, but her heart fluttered at the idea of seeing what she would look like all fancied up. Maybe she wouldn’t look so plain and gangly.
“Go take a bath. I’ll set out everything you need for the evening.” Mrs. Danforth pushed her down the hall. “Lila! Lila!”
A girl not much older than Darcy with skin the color of newly brewed coffee hurried out of a room at the back of the house.
“See that Miss… What is your name, child?”
“Darcy. Darcy Duncan.”
“See that Miss Darcy gets the deep tub and add some of my special salts to the water.”
“Mrs. Danforth that’s not necessary.” It felt uncomfortable to be beholden to anyone.
“A lady never argues,” Mrs. Danforth scolded. “And a bath with salts is definitely necessary.”
“I just need to wash the dust off.” The idea of taking a bath with salt wasn’t appealing.
The woman shoved her down the hall. “And Lila, scrub her tangle of hair and comb it out.”
Lila took Darcy by the arm, hauling her into a room no bigger than the jail cell. A large, claw foot tub sat in the middle of the room. A silk screen, decorated with large pastel flowers, partitioned off one corner.
“Step behind there and take off yo clothes,” directed Lila. “But don’t be stepping your skinny butt out from behind there until I comes back in. George’ll be hauling the water in, and he don’t like looking at no skinny white girl.” She smiled ruthlessly. “It make him do crazy things.”
Darcy ducked behind the screen. She’d run into a few crazy men in their travels, and she wasn’t about to do anything to set one off now. Especially in the confines of this tiny room. She stayed huddled in the corner watching the shadow of a large man dump many buckets of water in the tub. When he hadn’t been back for a while, she crept up to the screen and peeked around. The tub was full and steaming. She’d never had a bath in a big white tub. As a child, her mother bathed her in the round tin tub every Saturday night.
Her fingers shook with anticipation as she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it to the ground. With the shirt gone, and the suspenders dangling at her sides, the trousers slid off her slim hips. She shucked the chemise and drawers down over her boots before plopping her naked backside on the pile of clothes on the floor. The knotted bootlaces gave her fits before she pulled off Pa’s boots.
Darcy walked over to the steaming water. Dragging her fingers through the warm liquid, she sighed. This was a heck of a lot better than washing in cold streams and hard rains. She could come to like being marshal. Food in her belly, a place to sleep, and a good bath now and then.
She stepped over the side. The faint scent of flowers and pine enveloped her. She slid into the tub and sighed, closing her eyes. Nothing had ever felt this good. The warm, scented water flowed over her body, caressing knots in her tense body.
A hand shoved her head under.
She fought her way to the surface and looked at the wicked smile on Lila’s face.
“Yer hair would look better chewed off, but the mistress says to wash and comb it.” Lila unwound the braid and shoved her under again. Holding her breath, Darcy blew out water when she came back up. Wiping the water from her eyes, she felt something oozing down her head. Darcy put a hand on her head. Something slimy covered the top.
“What’s this?” She held her hand out to the merciless young woman.
“It’s hair soap. Special made for the mistress.” Lila sniffed. “I don’t know why she’s taking such an interest in a new girl, but I do what I’s told.”
Her reference to being a working girl caused Darcy to grab the side of the tub and start to stand. Lila knocked her hand off the side and pushed her into the water.
Darcy struggled to sit up and defiantly stated, “I’m not a new girl. I’m here for a bath, nothing more.” And the loan of a dress and help dressing. She rolled her eyes. What was she thinking asking a madam to help her dress for dinner?
Lila looked the length of her naked body. “Mrs. Danforth usually takes on ones with more shape to them.”
Darcy glared at the girl. “I said. I’m not one of the girls.”
“Men likes their women to have more to hold.” She smiled knowingly. “They don’t like being poked by bony elbows and knees.”
“If you keep insisting I’m one of the girls, I might have to put your eye out with one of my bony elbows.”
Lila dunked her under again and massaged Darcy’s head. The rhythm and skilled fingers lulled her into complacency.
“Yes ma’am. Man wants a woman who is soft to hold.”
Darcy closed her eyes and tried to ignore the woman’s comments as she imagined Gil with a more buxom woman on his arm. She snorted.
“What’s so funny?” Lila asked.
“Nothing. Ow!” Darcy grabbed her hair and slid under the water. A grip on her hair jerked her to the surface.
“Can’t get away from me in this thang.” Lila laughed gleefully and pulled a comb through the tangled mess Darcy
tried to brush every evening.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Lila pulled and yanked her hair. Her head jerked this way and that, snapping her neck. She didn’t know getting dressed up like a lady was so hard on a person. Those women she always thought of as being soft were tougher than they looked.
“Take this here soap and scrub whiles I work on your hair. Lord, you have a mess.”
Darcy dutifully scrubbed her body with the scented bar while her head snapped back and forth. She remembered bath times with her mother gently brushing her hair and humming. A lump clogged her throat. Those days were gone. She could only hope to share some with her own daughter some day. Darcy cleared her throat, and Lila stopped combing.
“You okay, missy?”
“I’m fine. Just a little dry.” A total stranger didn’t need to know how much she missed her mother and father every day. Or how she’d spent the last four years doing whatever it took that was moral to feed her and Jeremy. There were times she’d wanted to sit down and feel sorry for herself.
Thinking of the good times their family had and the good times she planned to make for Jeremy, she’d pushed on. Always looking for a place they could put down roots and live. Galena felt like that place. If she could find out what Craven wanted with the claims along Buck creek.
When her body was raw from scrubbing and the comb moved through her hair with ease, Lila told her to stand. The woman wrapped a large fluffy blanket around her as she stepped from the tub.
Darcy smelled like a meadow full of flowers. Her hair hung damp against her skin, but if felt soft, unlike its usual scratchy texture.
Lila pushed her down the hall to the bedroom where she’d last seen Mrs. Danforth. Two girls a little older than Darcy turned from the bed.
“Hi, I’m Sylvie and this is Rose,” said a brunette, pointing to a blonde. They were both dressed in their unmentionables, but they didn’t seem to notice.
Darcy cringed and pulled the blanket tighter around her. Their garments were just as skimpy as she remembered, but the girls looked like ones she would have had as friends had she ever stayed in one place long enough.