Trish froze mid-tug. Zelda's dress fit her perfectly but the dress wasn't what had her attention. She'd tried not to eavesdrop but she couldn't help it. The room was small and Zelda and Quinn were only a few feet away. She needed to get out of here and leave them their privacy, but how could she without being seen? Had she managed to flee the confines of a cabin filled with newlywed bliss just to find herself privy to lovers a few feet away?
"I brought ya here ta save ya from this kind of life."
"And I'm grateful, but I'm not marrying you or any man."
"So that feller last night? You ain't marryin' him neither?"
"I'm just not the marrying type of woman. I like bein' on my own."
"Ya call prostituting yerself bein' on yer own." Quinn's words sounded like an accusation rather than a question.
"Ifn' it keeps me from owin' any man, yes."
"What about owin' me? I brought ya out here."
"I didn't ask you to."
"No, ya didn't. But ya sure seemed grateful that I did."
"An' I said thank you and showed you how grateful I was."
Trish let the implication of their argument settle in her mind. They had been intimate.
"So that weren't a promise of marriage in yer way of thinkin'."
"Ifn' it was, I think I promised at least a dozen fellers the same thing, some of 'em already married."
Trish peaked over the top of the screen to catch a glimmer of hurt on Quinn's features change to a poker face. She ducked back down, holding her breath.
"I see. Ya never intended to marry me, even after I built the place."
"You were just so pleased with yourself and you expected me to be too. So I was."
"Ya play a stiff hand."
"It comes with the territory."
"How long ya been playin' me?"
Zelda's skirts rustled, she took up a position near the armoire, where Trish could see her. Her tone soft and soothing.
"I never meant to lead you along, Quinn. I just did what made you happy. That's what I do. I spend time with the fellers. I listen to their stories, nurse 'em back to health, keep their secrets, and yes, when they want a poke, I give 'em that too."
Trish didn't see the hardened woman she expected to hearing Zelda's words, instead she recognized genuine concern for Quinn written across her features.
"I fold." Quinn sounded beaten.
"You can still come see me. I'm still here, Quinn. Nothun's changed."
"Yer wrong. Everythin's changed. Guess I should thank ya for puttin' the record straight."
Trish heard Quinn's footsteps carry him to the door and down the outer steps.
Trish straightened the jacket before looking back at Zelda.
"Think I's too hard on him?"
"It isn't my business."
"Maybe not. Thanks, anyway. Yer being here helped me come clean with him. I guess I've taken him for his last ride. He won't come back. You win some, you lose some. That's one right generous cowpoke out the door."
"Do you regret being honest with him?"
"I don't, but the purse is gonna." Zelda chuckled, looking Trish over.
"Wait a minute," Trish exclaimed. "Quinn paid you, but was still asking you to marry him?"
"Naw." Zelda waved Trish's vociferation aside. "He usually just showers me with presents."
"What kind of presents?"
"That dress for one thing. It looks better on you than it does on me. Maybe I ain't cut out for bein' a church goer. Heck, that spiritualist that's calling us to meetin' tonight won't know the difference. We can go together, if you'd like. I've rented a horse from Albert to pull my buggy. No sense you walking and getting' your skirts dirty."
"I can't take your dress. It was a gift."
"Nonsense." Zelda sneered at the clothing Penelope had given Trish. "Never liked this, even on the old goat. She's real according to Hoyle nowa days. But she sure was at sea when she first came. These rags are proof of that. You ain't wearin' this getup. You're wearin' what cha' got on."
"I couldn't."
"Well, I got another couple of dresses, but then folks would have two harlots to stone instead of just one."
"No, I mean I couldn't possibly go to a spiritualist meeting. I'm new here and I've never been to one before."
Zelda's chuckle sounded like warm bubbles of friendship. "You wear that dress, an' I'll burn this rag. You go with me and folks'll think you're a friend come to call me to repent. You wear one of my other dresses an' folks 'll think there's a new harlot in the whore house and ifn' ya don't go, folks round these parts will know you're a sinner, even if ya ain't."
"But no one even knows I'm here."
"Trish, Quinn brought you in. The last woman he brought here is the best harlot these boys have ever known." Zelda winked at her. "You went to Penelope's this morning. That woman is the biggest windbag this side of Kansas, even if Lucinda introduced you, an' Penelope gave ya this. I know Penelope has told her own story as many different times as anybody's listened. And most days is right busy days at the mercantile. Then there's the bath shack. You think nobody noticed a woman like yourself bathing there? Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if every cowpoke in the valley knew you were here by nightfall."
"Nobody saw me."
"Honey, Pierre an' I debated for weeks just how to set that shack so the boys had good cover to watch without seein' too much of the goods, just enough to pick up my business. Folks know you're here. Trust me."
"I thought--" Trish could have sworn Zelda said she wanted the bath shack on the other side of the saloon. She didn't want to argue the point. "So are you saying that if I leave here, walk past the mercantile to go back to Lucinda's and spend the day with her, more folks will know I'm here?"
"What I'm sayin' is folks already know you’re here. Are you going to make a stunning entry at the spiritualism this evening? Or water down your appearance? The choice is yours. While you're deciding, come see the other room.
"I don't know anyone willing to stay where love runs as rampant as it does under Lucy and Albert's roof. I went by to visit her one afternoon just recent like and found myself imposin' on a right luscious moment. Oh, they was behind their own closed door an' all." Zelda batted the air dismissively. "But I found myself wishin' Albert was one of my johns. Lucinda wore a right sweet blush, too. I can't be blamin' ya for not wantin' to impede on their privacy. I'm sure yar welcome to stay here. Don't guarantee it'll be quieter, but at least ya won't feel like you're putting a chink in the windmill ifn' ya get my drift. Mind you, if you want to go into business, I won't mind."
Trish felt a rush of heat in response to Zelda's story. She was right, Albert and Lucinda were actively in love. She'd seen proof of that his morning. She also recognized the attraction Zelda said she had for the man. Hadn't she admired his physique as well?
"Yar thinkin' about it, ain't ya? I'm sure Pierre would be willing to rent you the room."
"But Lucinda will be expecting me."
"She's a right Christian woman, an' ifn' Quinn introduced you as a woman he knew, she probably would. But he didn't. That an' you're wanting of the finer things in life has her thinkin' being here would be more suitin' to your likin'.
“Lucinda is half believin' yar just like me. She mentioned how she figured Quinn took ya to her home instead of here 'cause he expected the sparks in the whore house might start flyin'. And not the friendly kind. That she as much confessed, but she'd take ya back in, ifn' that's what ya be wantin'. 'Course she never would admit ta ya cutting in on their romance." Zelda dropped her gaze to a more conniving pose. "Actually, the cookin's the same here most evenin's. Mornin' an' midday Pierre an' I manage. Guess if whorin' ain't what you want, Pierre might be open to you cookin'."
"He might not be when I burn more than I cook."
Zelda chuckled, taking a hold of the doorknob. She turned back to Trish. "You ain't the real loud, moanin' type, are you? Don't do much for me and it gets a few of the fellers a bit too riled up. Come on, I'll show you the ot
her room and then you can be thinkin' on it."
The room Zelda showed Trish needed a thorough cleaning. The brass bed stood against the far wall, an exact duplicate of the one in Zelda's room. The mattress was bare. Trish crossed the room and opened the window, the instant breeze lifted dust mites to stir in the bright sunlight streaming through the window. Trish sat on the bed. It squeaked quietly but held strong.
"Guess there ain't much in here," Zelda apologized. "When Pierre decided havin' a hotel and a whore house under one roof didn't go too well, I snatched the extra furniture for my room. What I didn't take, Pierre hauled back down to his tiny room off the kitchen. If yar stayin' I'll go tell him and get you some bedding."
Trish inspected the room from where she sat. A bed would be better than the hay mattress at Lucinda's and as for the background noise -- it beat cramping star crossed newlyweds. She had to stay somewhere. She'd never been one for camping under the stars and one campfire experience was enough for this adventure. She looked at Zelda and smiled. "Okay."
Zelda smiled in return, filling Trish with a welcoming warmth. "Good. For now, you can use the bath sheet to cover your window for privacy and let it dry at the same time. Don't want to rush you none, but you need to decide just what you're goin' to do here. And before we go to the spiritualism this evenin'."
Trish followed Zelda out of the room, but when Zelda turned toward the stairs, Trish returned to Zelda's room for the sheet and her extra clothing. She paused in front of the cheval mirror. She looked nice in Zelda's dress with its form-fitting jacket. The skirt cleared the floor by an inch, revealing her bare toes. She would have to make do with her boots. Her gaze traveled back up to her face.
She seemed so pale and lifeless without the modern necessities of make-up. She'd have to learn to live with no mascara and almost invisible eyebrows. But the lack of color in her cheeks couldn't be ignored. She pinched them several times. It didn't help as much as she'd hoped. Zelda had helped her with her hair, and now that it was drier, the auburn curls had turned out fairly decent for not having the luxury of modern hair products. Maybe being without shampoo wouldn't be as bad as she first believed.
She glanced at Zelda's vanity table. Several little makeup pots arrayed the top beside the comb and brush they'd used earlier. She opened one, finding it held a brownish red rouge. It was better than nothing. She dabbed at it and smudged it lightly on her cheeks. Better. Then she touched her fingers to her lips, giving them a hint of color. The next pot held a powdery white. She didn't need less color, but more and put it back. A smaller pot had a short hairbrush balanced on it. Trish opened it to find a taupe powder. She dabbed at it with the brush and carefully drew her eyebrows. The mirror revealed a different woman than it had moments before. Trish smiled at her reflection, resituated the make-up pots as closely as she could remember finding them and left the room with her sheet and clothing.
Hanging the sheet across the window was easy but it cut out most of the light. She undid one corner and turned to face the door, just as Zelda returned, followed closely by a man. He wasn't much taller than Zelda. His hair was dark and he was clean-shaven. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he wore a whitish apron tied at his waist.
"Trish," Zelda began before she entered the room. "This is-- Pierre, saloon owner and by the looks of you, our landlord."
Pierre thrust his hand toward her in a friendly handshake. "Ma'am."
"It's nice to meet you." Trish still hadn't taken the time to consider whether she intended to work or just rent the room. But how would she pay for the room if she didn't work? But surely she didn't need to work as a prostitute. "Thank you for letting me this room. I --"
Zelda chuckled. "What she's meanin' to say is that she's stayin' an' workin'. Things are lookin' up for this place."
"I -- Wait. I'm not a lady of the evening."
Pierre frowned while Zelda waved her comment aside.
"Not a problem, is it, Pierre? She can start as early as the fellers show up."
"No, I--"
"So you're a bit nervous. The cowpokes will never notice and after a time or two, you'll be a professional. Here's some bedding."
"Welcome. Food's hot." Pierre said no more, but led the way down the steps while Zelda herded Trish behind him.
Chapter 14
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 17