She addressed everyone at the table. “I know old habits are hard to break, but also please remember that I am known as Joy Thoresen now, rather than Michaels.” Billy and Mr. Wheatley, who were the ones who frequently forgot, both nodded. “I’ll start interviewing for another ‘handyman’ as soon as possible.”
Joy immediately took to the first young man sent by the sheriff. Flinty introduced them formally. Domingo Juarez was small and wiry and quick as a cat. Moreover, his dark brown eyes were respectful and kind. He spoke in a soft and confiding way to her during the interview.
“I think I know what you do here, señora.” He gestured around him to include the lodge. “Some of us hope you will help more girls. Many Corinth peoples know that man and what he does, but the Corinth—what they call? city clerk and some hombres de nogocios--the businesses peoples—are in that man’s pocket.”
“They’s in his pocket, all right,” Flinty agreed with vigor.
Joy couldn’t stop herself. “Er, what man?”
Domingo’s eyes flashed. “It was Judge Brown, señora. That is how it started. He was malvado—evil man, and his wealthy cómplices in Denver were just as evil as him. But we did not know that then, did we?”
Flinty, chewing a toothpick thoughtfully added, “Tha’s right, Miss Thoresen. First Judge Brown, he opens a savin’s ’n’ loan in Corinth. An’ folks all a-thinkin’ it were a great cornvenience, being able t’ bank their money right here ’stead-a in Denver. They ’preciated that he was investin’ in our little town.”
Young Domingo frowned. “Then other bad things start to happen, ver’ secretamente.”
“Yup. Real quiet-like. No one s’pected what was goin’ on at first,” Flinty said. “Judge Brown bought them two nice houses—and made ’em even bigger! And fancy? Nothing else like ’em way up here in these mountains. Can y’ figger what one man would be wantin’ with two big houses? No sir! But then we started seein’ them city swells comin’ up on the train t’ visit those houses.”
He nodded his head sagely. “Then things jest kinder exploded—Brown hired a crew o’ rough men and put ’em in a boardin’ house ’long Main Street, not far from th’ sidin’. Suddenly, if someone was t’ ask too many questions, those thugs’d deliver a thrashin’ you wouldn’t want t’ repeat.”
Domingo nodded in agreement. “Si. It is very bad now.”
Joy frowned. “You said it was Judge Brown?”
Flinty answered her. “Last August, a new feller shows up, new friend o’ Brown’s from Denver. A real gentleman, that ’un—the best clothes ’n’ manners. Folks say butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Only Brown don’t know ’til too late that he done brought a snake into his house.”
“Within a few weeks Brown jest up ’n’ disappears. This new guy, Brown’s ‘friend,’ name o’ Dean Morgan, steps right in, slick as oil, and starts a-runnin’ ever’thing. He lives down th’ mountain but he uses them thugs t’ keep Corinth on a tight leash.”
“What happened to Brown?” Joy’s eyes were huge.
“No one knows, señora,” Domingo replied softly.
Flinty added, “Yep. He jest disappeared. Someone tried t’ spread th’ story that his mother took ill back east, ’cept old Missus Childers knew Brown’s mother ’way back. Says she died years ago. We’re all pretty certain Morgan had som’pin t’ do with Brown disappearing, and we mighta cheered fer him, ’cept he’s ten times worse’n Brown.”
“How? How is he worse?”
Domingo grimaced. “This Morgan? He is hombre rico, very big money. Now many Corinth peoples, they—how you say?” Domingo turned to Flinty.
“Thet Morgan cornvinced a bunch o’ folks here t’ invest th’ money they had in th’ savings ’n’ loan with him, is what,” Flinty explained. “Like Domingo here said, th’ city clerk and some o’ th’ business folk are in cahoots with ’im, so not only did they invest their money, but th’ town o’ Corinth did, too. Oh, he’s a smooth ’un all right.”
“Couple o’ brave folks decided t’ withdraw their money. That’s when we found out how bad things was. He let those folks know, kinder subtle-like, ya know, that it wasn’t a good time t’ pull their savings. He said th’ S&L was heavily invested and it were an uneasy time in th’ market. Said if they pulled their money, it might cause a run and everybody—’specially th’ town—might be negertively ’ffected, sez him.”
Flinty aimed a shrewd look at Joy. “S’ far, people say they’re happy with their ’vestment returns—but it’s all on paper, so how d’ they know it’s real? Fact is, they’re ’fraid t’ find out th’ truth. No, we all got th’ message. He’s holdin’ th’ people and th’ town o’ Corinth hostage with their own money. No one is brave enough t’ pull their money and no one dares t’ cross him.”
~~**~~
Chapter 23
Joy felt as though Thanksgiving had landed on them rather than arrived. She took a deep breath and gazed around the crowded table at the familiar and now loved faces . . . Breona, Marit, Mr. Wheatley, Billy, Flinty, David and Uli, Sam, Seth, and Ruthie. She bade herself to relax and truly give thanks for the beauty of the season.
They had used only the best of everything today—china, silver, and crystal that would have been sold for a small fortune back in Omaha; linens and lace that had been intended for the tables of wealthy homes; a pair of silver candelabra holding an array of flickering candlelight that might have graced a governor’s home.
And the food! Marit and Uli had assumed direction of the feast while Breona and Joy had tackled the cleaning and polishing and the table arrangements. The women ran Billy and Mr. Wheatley ragged with errands and chores.
Now the assembled guests stared about them at the bounty: an enormous bird, its buttered skin browned and crackling, a savory stuffing bursting from its insides; elegant footed crystal dishes and cups, each one brightly gleaming red, purple, green, orange, or yellow with jellies, jams, pickles, relishes, or sauces; a mountain of mashed potatoes accompanied by a boat of thick, steaming gravy; fresh, sweet-smelling yeast rolls, saucers of churned butter, and three kinds of vegetables.
The men and boys eyed the sideboard greedily, for Marit, Uli, and Ruth had concocted enough desserts for an army: a three-layer coconut cake, a two-layer chocolate torte, and pumpkin, pecan, mincemeat, cherry, and apple pies. A gallon of sweet whipped cream waited in the ice box.
In the pause before they gave thanks, Joy watched Breona and Marit especially. How those girls were blooming!
Breona, always the joking little spitfire, tormented Sam and Seth relentlessly—and they adored her. It was clear to see that she adored them back.
Marit glowed with pleasure, one hand in Mr. Wheatley’s and the other in Ruth’s. Marit and Ruthie were practically inseparable. Ruthie viewed Marit as a beautiful older sister and Joy realized their relationship had grown into something akin to what Uli and Joy had known as children. Soon there would be an infant to care for. In the joy of caring for that baby, perhaps Ruthie would help Marit put her shame behind her.
Around the table they joined hands and bowed their heads to thank God for their bounty. And within herself Joy particularly gave thanks for the “family” that had grown under her roof—the band of misfits, orphans, and lonely hearts that had found each other. No, the Lord had found them. Seen them in their aloneness and brought them together. Here in little Corinth.
Dinner began, and Joy looked about her, feasting not on the food, but on the contentment that enveloped her. Despite the many uncertainties ahead, here her heart was finding peace again.
Thank you, Lord. Amen.
In her trial attempt to garner guests for the lodge, Joy had placed a carefully worded advertisement in the Denver Post. If she attracted even a few select guests over the holidays, she would count the attempt as a success.
No one at the lodge had skills in guest keeping—Joy had management experience and Marit’s cooking was quite good, but only Breona had experience in personal service for “people of qu
ality.” The household quickly learned to defer to her “how-to” guidance and judgments. With their first few visitors, they planned to carefully practice and hone their guest skills. Then in the spring, if they were successful with their trial guests, Joy intended to reach east of Colorado to attract more and varied guests.
The day after Thanksgiving they finally received their first significant snowfall. Breona, Marit, Joy, Billy, and Mr. Wheatley tramped a path to “their” overlook and gazed in awe at the snow-laden majesty spread before them. This spot, they decided, would be a destination “must” for lodge guests. Mr. Wheatley set out for Flinty’s to commission some benches to be placed strategically at the overlook. Then he and Billy set upon building railings they would install along the path and at the overlook to make the walk easier and to ensure that guests did not stray into unsafe areas along the ridgeline, especially in the snow.
That day Billy fetched their mail, and in it was a small, feminine-looking envelope. The quality of the letter was understatedly evident; the handwriting perfectly uniform and elegant. Joy opened the letter carefully.
Dear Corinth Mountain Lodge,
I read with interest your advertisement in the Post. You have described your mountain inn in delightful terms.
If it is available, I would like to reserve your Mountain View Suite for a week beginning December 1. I would expect to arrive by afternoon train and would request that you make arrangements to meet and provide conveyance for myself and my luggage.
If this arrangement is satisfactory, please reply by return post.
Cordially,
Mrs. Randolph Van der Pol
Joy gasped in delight. A guest! It was Friday—December 1 was the coming Tuesday! She called Breona and Marit together and quickly told them that their first guest would arrive in four days.
If the quality of the letter were any indication, their guest would be both wealthy and genteel. Those were the qualities they needed in their first guests to ensure that Corinth Mountain Lodge would be well spoken of in Denver society.
Tuesday morning Joy had Domingo drive her into town for some guest soaps and items Marit had placed on a list. Corinth had a small grocery, a bakery, a butcher, and a few sundry shops near the town plaza—and near the sheriff’s office. David considered the area safe to visit as long as the women had a male escort.
Joy was leaving a tiny specialty shop just as another woman had her hand on the door to enter. They tussled with the door for a moment before realizing their impasse. The middle-aged woman standing in the doorway had strikingly red curls above a full mouth. She was pleasantly plump . . . but that plumpness was displayed in a day suit so tightly corseted that Joy must have gaped as she ran her eyes over the woman. The suit exhibited every possible curve on the woman’s body to its best advantage.
“I-I beg your pardon,” Joy stuttered. She didn’t know what she was apologizing for, but she found herself mentally examining her dress and finding it somehow lacking.
“Not at all. I believe the fault was mine.” The woman wore a mildly amused expression. “Miss Roxanne Cleary. You must be . . . Miss Thoresen?” She extended a gloved hand.
“Why, yes, I—” Joy was cut off as Dom took her firmly by the arm just as she was raising it. Joy glanced reproachfully at him only to be met by a fiery-red face and a clenched jaw.
“Señora, we are go now,” he muttered tersely.
The amused smile still on her face, the woman silently nodded and stepped aside. Domingo ushered Joy through the door and down the street to their wagon.
Although the encounter had lasted mere seconds, Joy had quickly understood Domingo’s actions. As the horses trotted around the plaza she timidly asked him, “Is she . . . one of those women?” The polished confidence of the woman had shaken Joy. Somehow she had envisioned “those kinds” of women as defeated and broken. Roxanne Cleary was undoubtedly neither.
“That one! She is—!” Domingo sighed in agitation. “Señora Joy, do you know what ‘madam’ is?”
“Something tells me it’s not merely a French woman,” Joy responded a bit tartly.
Dom laughed wryly. “Verdad! You are right.” He sighed again but added nothing more.
“Indeed,” Joy said to herself, somewhat disappointed. The woman had intrigued her but Uli would have to fill her in later.
When they returned to the lodge, delicious smells were already coming from the kitchen. Marit was determined to make an impression on their first guest. She had breads and pies cooling on the back of the stove and was just sliding a pot roast into the oven.
That afternoon Billy returned to the lodge with their guest in the “new” carriage. Joy had managed to locate and purchase a four-seat buggy that had seen better days. Mr. Wheatley mended and polished its worn seats and livery to a fare-thee-well.
Billy extended his hand to assist their guest. From the windows Joy examined her. She was, perhaps, 40 years old or thereabouts, dark-haired and handsomely dressed. The woman looked about her with interest, her eyes sparkling.
Joy opened the lodge door. “Welcome to Corinth Mountain Lodge.” She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Miss Thoresen, your hostess.”
Mrs. Van der Pol took her hand. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to my stay. What is that delicious smell?” She looked about the great room. “What a lovely room! Rustic but elegantly furnished.”
She followed Joy up the stairs to the room at the end of the hall. Breona stood waiting for her.
“Mrs. Van der Pol, this is Breona. She will be looking after your needs while you are here, although any of the staff would be pleased to help you.”
Breona bobbed a curtsy. “May I unpack for you, ma’am?” Joy had worked with her to say it just so rather than “May I be unpackin’ for you, ma’am?” Joy smiled at Breona from behind Mrs. Van der Pol’s back.
“Yes, thank you.” She turned to Joy. “This is quite charming! I’m particularly looking forward to seeing the views you wrote of.”
“Ah!” Joy replied. “Well perhaps you would like to see one now? The small balcony just outside your door has one of my favorite views.”
She opened the door and led her guest outside. The wind pulled at them, but the snow-clad mountains, with the sun just beginning to set, were changing from white to brilliant reds and oranges. Mrs. Van der Pol’s hand crept up to her throat as she soaked in the grandeur before her.
“Magnificent.” That was all she said for several moments until Joy involuntarily shivered. “Oh, my dear. I apologize for my thoughtlessness.” They returned inside and found Breona just opening a trunk and beginning to unpack.
“I will leave you for now,” Joy said smiling. “That delicious aroma you commented on when you arrived is dinner. We will serve at your convenience, of course, but the dinner rolls will be ready shortly, and I believe you will enjoy them most fresh from the oven.”
Later that evening as Breona and Marit gathered in the kitchen for pie and coffee, Joy tentatively mentioned the woman she had met that day with Domingo. Marit looked clueless but Breona nodded perceptively.
“Oh yis. A ‘madam’ is bein’ th’ woman who runs a whorehouse, Miss Joy, pardon m’ French. Miss Cleary? She ist th’ chief woman as runs them two fancy houses.”
Joy’s mouth opened soundlessly.
Breona chuckled without humor. “It’s belavin’ I am thet Marit ’n’ me barely missed th’ honor o’ knowin’ Miss Cleary up close and personal loik.”
~~**~~
Chapter 24
Mei-Xing crouched in the deep snow behind the shrubbery. She was bruised and deeply scratched. Her ankle throbbed and her ribs stabbed with every breath. She looked up and saw the knotted strand of clothes dangling from the third floor window high above her. The “rope” she had devised only reached to the bottom of the second floor windows, so she had been forced to drop the rest of the distance.
Over the pulsing pain of her ribs her heart pounded even louder. She shivered, and not just from the col
d. If they caught her again, she had no illusions about what they would do to her.
She had spent seven months in Corinth, seven months in these houses. Seven months since she had arrived in Denver and had been met by a man she distrusted immediately. Seven months since Roxanne had met her at the door and shown her to an overly sumptuous room. Seven months since that same night when she had been fed a drink that had made her feel lethargic and weak, and had been bathed, dressed in satin, and “given” to an elegantly dressed man. He had taken her innocence and then praised her to Roxanne and “reserved” her for several weeks of exclusive use.
Mei-Xing’s heart hardened in bitterness as she remembered. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Bao had lied to her and that, undoubtedly, this was the punishment Fang-Hua had devised for her—the retribution she felt Mei-Xing deserved for rejecting her beloved son and causing him to leave his family.
She cursed and used words she had heard often in the last seven months. She cursed and swore she would punish Fang-Hua and her toadies. Someday.
Mei-Xing had learned that the two houses had distinctly different purposes and housed girls accordingly. New girls were brought to the first house where men paid a high price for a girl’s innocence, especially young girls.
The second house was proudly advertised as the “Corinth Gentleman’s Club.” Roxanne bragged that the club was the most exclusive of her employer’s houses. Nothing in Denver compared to the Corinth Gentleman’s Club, she assured “her” girls.
After Mei-Xing had been a few weeks in the first house, the man who had reserved her for his exclusive use had tired of her. Because Mei-Xing had been educated and well brought up, what Roxanne described as “refined,” the madam had decided to train her for the gentlemen’s club.
“Persuaded” by repeated rapes and beatings, many of the girls working in the club had looked at their options and elected to do as they were told. They learned what Roxanne and the “quality girls” had to teach. After they mastered the skills required of them, they entertained the men who frequented the club with gracious conversation, flattery, drinks, food, and gaming, as well as intimate and . . . unusual pleasure.
Joy on This Mountain (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 16