The breeding horse operation, averaging a herd of around two hundred head, was on a smaller, connecting ranch, which the owners had bought.
The ranch was still called Straight Arrow, or shortened to the Arrow, named by the first owners of the land. Seth lived in the original two–story, wooden ranch house. From spring through fall, he had extra help who lived in the ranch’s bunkhouse. From November through March he was the only one watching the horse herd in the pastures, but hired help if he needed it, such as when it was necessary for him to be gone on this weeklong trip.
The Straight Arrow was five miles straight north of Clear Creek, the closest town, but Seth liked the isolation—most of the time. Now at age twenty–eight, he found himself wishing he was sharing his home and life with a wife and family.
Now Seth sat at a table in the hotel’s restaurant enjoying a rare beef steak, mashed potatoes and the company of men he just met. The men, who were also here to attend the shows, ranged from young to old, experienced or novices, exhibitors or buyers. The people came all the way from Canada to Texas, bringing different expertise from their area’s land and climate, and livestock they raised.
Conversation jumped from today’s blustery weather, mishaps people suffered traveling to Chicago, to who they thought would win the cart horse, or jumping class at the ongoing horse show.
“Plan to check out the saloons in the area?” a young man who sat across the table, asked Seth.
“Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” Seth put off giving a direct answer, because Seth didn’t go into drinking establishments.
“I went to the Stockyard Emporium the other night and plan to go again in a few days. They had some good–lookin’ women singing in the saloon…and doing other things for men upstairs if you know what I mean,” he grinned while wiggling his eyebrows. “I heard they’re gettin’ a new singer from back East this week, so I don’t want to miss her act.”
The Stockyard Emporium? Where had he heard that name before? It was at the depot when he overheard the man and woman talking. The Swedish woman, a Miss Lind, was being taken there, and at the time he wondered what she was getting into. Was she the new singing act? Seth thought he understood she was a mail–order bride, planning to meet her future husband.
“Yes, I’d like to go with you,” Seth said to the man. His parents wouldn’t approve of him stepping into a saloon, let alone drinking a beer. But Seth was a grown man and curious enough about Miss Lind’s welfare to venture inside the “swinging doors” so to speak.
***
Lilly only got a glimpse of her “fiancé” over the next two days. He was always “too busy right now” to talk to her. Lilly needed clothes because other than the dress she wore on her trip to Chicago, she only had extra under garments and a few other pieces of clothing in her bag. Mrs. Mason said she’d mention it to Mr. Hardesty, but nothing materialized after the conversation—if it ever took place.
The only time Lilly was permitted out of her room was in the mornings when Mr. Boswell worked with her on songs she was to sing during her debut performance. She still couldn’t get through one song without blushing, thinking about the “randy” lyrics she was to sing—out loud for heaven’s sakes.
During the second day, Lilly stepped out in the hall when she heard other women, but they went into their rooms as soon as she opened her door. Lilly went knocking on doors to talk to someone, but the women never answered.
Since Lilly had tried to talk to someone else, Mrs. Mason kept Lilly sequestered to her room, bringing in meals, and taking out her dirty wash water and chamber pot as needed. If Lilly hadn’t slept so much because of her exhaustion, she would have gone stark crazy.
The one small, dirty window in the room looked out to the back alley, but after watching dogs chasing giant rats—and drunk men vomiting and then passing out in their mess—she didn’t look out the window after the first day.
Of course, she could only sleep during the day. The rowdy noises coming from downstairs from early evening to early morning kept her wide awake. Plus, more than once during the night, someone turned her doorknob, trying to enter her room. She angled the only chair in the room under the knob to block anyone from entering, but wasn’t sure if it would hold against a hard shove.
Lilly soon figured out what men—and women—were coming upstairs to do. She nearly fainted when she heard what was going on in the room next to hers. The walls were paper thin, and even with sticking her fingers in her ears, she’d heard an “anatomy lesson” she’d never forget.
Lilly dissolved into tears twice, but hadn’t given in to panic yet. Surely, Mr. Hardesty had a nice home in a good neighborhood where she could live and have a normal life with friends, shopping and attending church and functions, even if her husband was gone “working” most evenings.
She had no money for food or shelter if she could leave. And where would she go? Her best idea so far—and the only one—was to find a church and ask for help, wherever one might be. It was clear on their carriage ride over here that the Emporium was in a rough part of town, and it was very near the stockyards.
Now it was her third night here and there was a knock on her door. Beside Mrs. Mason was one of the girls she had seen in the hall earlier in the day. She was shorter than Lilly, with black hair and a gaudily made–up face. Lilly was embarrassed to look at the woman because of all the cleavage showing in her low–cut, dark pink dress.
“I’ll handle her, Mrs. Mason. Go tell Mr. Hardesty she’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” The woman pushed Lilly back into her room and shut the door, holding a finger up to her mouth to signal to be quiet. After five seconds she yanked the door open, and Lilly saw Mrs. Mason was standing there, looking caught and uneasy.
“I said I’d get her ready,” the woman raised her voice, and leaned against the doorframe until Mrs. Mason reluctantly moved down the hall.
“Keep quiet while I talk to you and we get you ready for your first night. I’m Fannie, but don’t talk to me when you see me elsewhere. Understood?”
Lilly looked at Fannie and realized she was serious. “First take off your dress so we can get this corset on you. Whether you like it or not, you need to show your assets tonight, then I’ll apply your makeup.”
“No! Then I’ll look like a ‘painted lady’!”
“Honey, whether you like it or not, that’s what you are now,” Fannie said as she helped Lilly undress.
“I came here as a mail–order bride for Mr. Hardesty! The matchmaker agency checks the references of all the men who put an ad in the Grooms’ Gazette. I corresponded with Miss Miller, and she said Mr. Hardesty was an upstanding businessman in the shipping industry.”
“A ‘Mr. Hardesty’ and his business may have been checked out, but it was someone else Mr. Hardesty paid to represent him. I’m guessing he has several ads in that paper under different names. One or two women show up each month thinking they will be Mrs. Whoever.”
“That can’t be legal!” Lilly whispered, then grunted when Fannie yanked on the corset strings. “Why don’t the police do something about his scams?!”
“Cops get paid ‘on the side’ for taking care of Mr. Hardesty’s business. Suck in your stomach again for one last pull of the strings.”
Lilly looked down at her chest. Oh. My. Word…besides not being able to breathe, I’m exposing my breasts to the world!
“Sit down on the chair so I can fix your face. You need kohl around your eyes and rouge on your cheeks and lips.
“Listen closely because I’ll only say this once, and we’ll never talk about it again. If you want to survive, I suggest you do what Mr. Hardesty says.”
“I’ll take my pay for tonight and leave. Mr. Hardesty tricked me so I won’t stay here. I’ll find a church and ask for help.”
“You aren’t paid to sing, Lilly. You’ll only get a small cut of the fee the men pay Mr. Hardesty for your female services upstairs, after you’ve been here a month or two to prove your loyalty to the Emporium.�
�
“I will NOT be a prostitute!”
Fannie paused before saying, “The last ‘mail–order bride’ disappeared the same night she refused to take a man upstairs. Two days later her beaten body was found floating in Bubbly Creek. That nearby stream is the ‘dump’ for the slaughter houses in the Yards. I hope she was dead before being thrown into the stinking goo of dead animal parts.” Fannie gave a little shudder as she spoke about the animal offal.
“I…I can’t do this! What should I do?!”
“Get through your songs, then look around and find the safest man you see. Go sit on his lap, put your arms around his neck, talk to him—and look like you’re enjoying yourself—or you’ll be the next ‘bride’ floating in the creek.”
Fannie went to the door and opened it. Lilly wasn’t surprised to see the woman standing outside. Did she hear us talking? Fannie didn’t say another word before she slipped past Mrs. Mason and walked down the hall to her own room.
Mrs. Mason practically dragged her out of her room and handed her over to Mr. Hardesty at the top of the main room stairway. Lilly wished she could have covered her chest, but her white shawl had conveniently disappeared from her room when she was downstairs practicing with Mr. Boswell this morning.
“Gentlemen! May I please have your attention?” Mr. Hardesty yelled while holding Lilly’s elbow firmly in his right hand. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest singer, Miss Lilly Lind—the niece of the famous singer, Jenny Lind—known throughout the world as the Swedish Nightingale!”
Lilly gasped and looked at Mr. Hardesty after his introduction and outright lie. “Smile and wave at your audience, Miss Lind,” he whispered in her ear as he practically dragged her down the steps and through the tables toward the stage. Men were clapping, stomping their feet, whistling and touching her as Mr. Hardesty pushed her up on the stage! “I suggest you do a good job singing your songs,” he whispered again while painfully squeezing her elbow before releasing it.
Lilly stared out at the audience, but couldn’t see the noisy crowd in the smoky room because her vision was starting to narrow. The room was warm, smelling of dirty men, whiskey, and the strong odor of the nearby plants. The smoke also brought flashbacks of the mill fire, causing a panic of its own. Am I going to pass out, fling my meager supper on the stage floor, or both?
Mr. Boswell hit three loud cords, trying to get her attention. Had he already started playing the first song, and what is it!? He started in again, waited a few measures, and then started again, only louder this time. The third time Lilly shut her eyes and sang the first phrase of the song. She continued, singing a little louder, when the noise from the crowd dropped to only a few raunchy yells.
She got through the first song and opened her stinging eyes, embarrassed at the men’s hoots and hollers. After a few long minutes of standing there, coughing because of the cigar smoke and not knowing what to do next, Mr. Boswell started playing the introduction to the next song.
Lilly scanned the tables, then looked back to a certain one, because the man seated at it wasn’t making any noise, just staring at her instead. He’s the tall cowboy I saw at the train depot! He’d taken his cowboy hat off, but it rested on one knee which stuck sideways out from under the table. He gave her a solemn nod of acknowledgement, giving her a moment of sanity.
Realizing Mr. Boswell was waiting for her to start singing, Lilly sang the next song while looking at the man quietly watching her. It went better than the first song, only because she had a focal point this time.
Lilly clamped her fists tightly at her sides as she listened to another round of humiliating calls. Now she had to sing the song she still stuttered through. Lilly didn’t want to sing it, especially to the man watching her. She was supposed to do arm actions and sway her body while singing the embarrassing words, too.
When Mr. Boswell started playing this introduction, the men roared, apparently knowing the song she was about to sing. Lilly gritted her teeth and tried to stare at the ceiling through the smoky haze. She sang the song quickly so Mr. Boswell had to play faster to keep up with her. She stood defiantly at the end of the song, staring at Mr. Hardesty who leaned against the bar at the opposite end of the room. He had a smirk on his face, guessing Lilly had finally realized what her role was at the Emporium—and it wasn’t to be his loving bride.
Lilly scanned the room, and quickly decided the cowboy from the train station was the best man to approach for her next ‘act’ of the evening. She lifted her skirt enough to carefully walk down the four steps off the stage. Men stood on both sides of the steps trying to grab her, but she angrily slapped them away. She was fuming at Mr. Hardesty’s betrayal and her own stupidity. Dear God in Heaven, please help me find a way out of this mess!
The man watched her weaving through the tables and his eyes widened when she stood before him. Another cowboy sitting next to him slapped him on the back, apparently congratulating him for his ‘luck’ at being chosen for her attention.
Lilly took a deep breath, took the hat off the cowboy’s knee and placed it on the table in front of him. She had a metallic taste in her mouth, then realized she was biting her lower lip so hard she was drawing blood. She licked her lips and swallowed a few times to clear her mouth. She glanced sideways, and found Mr. Hardesty watching her closely.
“May I sit on your lap, sir?” He acted like he didn’t hear her at first, but then uncrossed his legs so she could sit across his thighs. Lilly gingerly sat down, bracing for his hand to pinch her rear, but he gently placed his large palm on her waist to steady her instead. Next, she wrapped her arms around his neck, which brought her face close to his.
He intensely searched her face as she studied his handsome features. His strong jawline and chin were covered with a day’s worth of stubble. He had bushy eyebrows, slightly darker than his straight, auburn hair. His nose was large, but not like a beak to make his face look out of proportion. And he looked like a man she could trust.
He leaned close to her ear, but she wasn’t afraid of him doing something inappropriate. “I’m Seth Reagan, here in Chicago for the livestock show. I saw you at the depot when we both arrived and overheard the conversation you had with the person you met there. Are you in some kind of trouble, miss?”
Lilly wanted to lean her forehead against Mr. Reagan’s shoulder and cry. “Yes, I traveled here thinking I was meeting my fiancé, but apparently it was a one–way ticket to work in this saloon instead.”
“Do you want help getting out of here?”
“Desperately, but I’ve been warned I won’t be leaving by free choice, or alive,” Lilly shuddered and he squeezed her waist in sympathy.
“I’m staying at the Hough House. The hotel is five blocks straight east of here. It’s a five story building with an American flag waving from its dome top. I’m in room…” Mr. Reagan stopped talking when a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Either you take this gentleman upstairs to your room, Miss Lind, or you move on to someone else.” Lilly’s mouth gaped open at Hardesty’s meaning, and at his sudden change in personality. Gone was the charming gentlemen she first met. Now he was threatening her in a menacing tone.
“What’s the cost of enjoying this beautiful woman?” Mr. Reagan’s eyes didn’t leave Lilly’s as he asked Hardesty the price of going upstairs. Lilly stopped breathing, and looked back and forth between the two men.
“Because this is Miss Lind’s debut night so to speak, two dollars for an hour’s honor,” Mr. Hardesty declared, challenging Mr. Reagan, not expecting him to follow through with the high price.
“It would be my pleasure, sir,” he answered, while nodding to Lilly. “If this lovely lady will stand up so I can get my money out of my vest pocket, I’ll pay the fee and the two of us can proceed upstairs.”
Mr. Reagan squeezed her waist again and gently pushed her off his lap. He reached a finger into his vest pocket, pulled out two silver dollar coins, and held them out until Hardesty held his hand out, palm u
p.
Mr. Reagan’s smile wasn’t showing in his eyes as he dropped the coins onto Hardesty’s palm with one hand, while putting his other on Lilly’s lower back and gently pushing her forward to start walking. When they reached the bottom of the stairway, Mr. Reagan offered his bent arm, as any proper gentleman would do. After looking back at Mr. Hardesty, Lilly slid her hand into the other man’s arm. Am I safe, or am I about to become a soiled dove?
Chapter 3
“You’re safe with me, Miss Lind. I only offered to pay for your services to get you alone to talk about your predicament—nothing else,” Seth said, and quickly wrapped his arm around Miss Lind when she sagged with relief.
“Which is your room, Miss Lind, so we can get away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers?”
“Last one at the end of the hall,” the woman whispered to him.
“Is there a back staircase we can leave from after we get your things?”
“Yes, but…”
“Are you finding your way to Miss Lind’s room, sir?” Seth took a moment to compose his face before turning back to the saloon owner who stood a few doors down from them.
“Yes, we are about to enjoy our privacy—if you don’t mind,” Seth said in a warning tone. “I paid my money for this privilege, so let me…savor Miss Lind. Seth drew out the words to put Hardesty in his place. He turned the knob on the door Miss Lind has pointed to and ushered her inside.
“Is there an inside lock to keep that man out of your room?” he whispered to the frightened woman hovering against the far wall of the room—which wasn’t that far away, being a small space. She shook her head, then murmured. “I’ve been shoving the chair under the knob at night, that’s all I can do. But someone has been locking me in the room when I’m not downstairs with someone watching me anyway.”
Lilly_Bride of Illinois Page 3