The Chili Queen: A Novel

by Dallas, Sandra

  “Go about your business. You’re not supposed to be listening,” Addie told her.

  “Then stay out of my kitchen. You expect me to plug up my ears with chicken grease? Besides, it rightly don’t matter what I hear. It only matters what I tell.”

  Addie had to agree with the wisdom of that. Welcome was no gossip. But then, there wasn’t anybody for her to gossip with. She left The Chili Queen only to buy fixings, and as far as Addie knew, the woman hadn’t made any friends in Nalgitas. Besides, Addie trusted her. She liked her, too.

  Welcome poured hot water from the teakettle into a basin and began to hum softly as she soaped the pots.

  “You got how much coming to you, was it?” Addie asked Emma.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a thousand dollars,” Emma said, looking wary.

  “I thought you said five thousand,” Welcome put in.

  “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not after it,” Addie said, hurt that after all she’d done for Emma, the woman didn’t trust her.

  Emma at least had the grace to blush. “I guess five thousand dollars is about right.”

  “There ought to be some way for her to get that money. Then she wouldn’t have to make hats. Shoot, maybe we could help her. We could all come out a little bit richer, you know, get our cut from her brother,” Ned said. He winked at Addie.

  She returned a faint nod. “You got your name on his bank account?” she asked Emma.

  “Oh, no. It’s all in John’s name.” Emma took a tiny bite of potatoes and looked over her shoulder at Welcome and nodded her approval.

  Addie furrowed her forehead as she thought. “I could take him in a card game easy.” Ned had never seen her work a sucker at cards, had never seen her perform sleight of hand at all, and Addie thought it would be a fine thing to show him how good she was.

  Emma swallowed the potatoes, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. Addie noticed the napkin lying next to her own plate and put it into her lap.

  “John doesn’t play cards,” Emma said.

  “You say he’s greedy, do you?” Addie asked.

  “Yes, he’s greedy.”

  Ned stopped eating, and with his fork in the air, he studied Addie.

  “’Times a man gets so greedy, he don’t think good,” Welcome put in.

  “I was going to say that.” Addie used her hand to wipe her mouth, then remembered the napkin and touched it to her lips. “Didn’t he tell you to watch out for an investment? Didn’t I hear him tell you that?” Addie asked.

  Ned put down his fork, while Welcome turned her back to the dishpan and folded her arms in front of her. Addie was on to something, and the three of them waited for Emma to answer. It was so still in the kitchen that when Ned scraped the floor with his boots as he leaned back in his chair, Addie jumped.

  “Well?” Addie asked when Emma didn’t reply.

  Emma nodded, glancing furtively at Ned, then at Welcome.

  “Then I guess the way to get your money is to find something for him to invest in.” Addie nodded once to emphasize her words, and forked a piece of meat into her mouth. She studied the way Emma held her fork between her thumb and forefinger, then looked at her own utensil, which was held in her fist like she was grasping a bucket handle. She changed her grip, then glanced around to see if the others had noticed, but only Welcome was watching her.

  “But what?” Emma asked. “That’s the question, isn’t it? What could we get John to put his money into? He won’t just send me the cash, you know. He’s not stupid.”

  “Oh,” Addie said. “I guess that’s right.”

  Ned pursed his lips together as he thought. “Why don’t you tell him you found a gold mine.”

  Emma laughed and set down her fork in the middle of her plate, the knife beside it. Addie wondered how she could eat so fast taking those little bites. “There’s no way in the world John would invest in a gold mine.”

  “Maybe he’d set you up in the hat business. How about that?” Addie asked.

  Emma shook her head. “No, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I didn’t get married. Besides, the only thing John likes is land. He bought so much after Father died that I warned him we’d be land poor.”

  The three of them studied on it, while Welcome brought a pie to the table and, using a butcher knife, cut it into slices.

  “What’s that?’ Addie asked.

  “Custard pie. She said you wanted it.” Welcome pointed at Emma with the knife, then slid it under the pie and dished up the dessert onto the dirty plates. Addie wondered whether she should ask for clean dinnerware, but she didn’t want Welcome to chide her about putting on airs. She held her fork awkwardly as she cut a piece of her pie that was steeped in gravy.

  “Maybe you say you found you a farm to buy, a good one,” Welcome said as she licked the sharp knife.

  Emma ate slowly, thinking. “John trusts my judgment on land, but I don’t know if he’d buy me a farm.”

  Welcome snorted. The three looked at her as she set the knife on the table and pulled out a chair and sat down. “I guess I’m better at figuring than you white folks. You tell him you found good land, and you’ll pay up half iff’n he’ll put up the other half. All he has to do is send you the money.”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. “Why, that might work. Yes, I think that would work.”

  Ned looked to Addie, who studied Welcome, wondering whether the black woman was just smart or if she had a little larceny in her. Then she realized that Welcome must be on the run from the law, just like Ned. She’d come to Nalgitas because it was a safe place to hide. She wondered what Welcome’s game was. “How come you know so much about cheating people?” Addie asked her.

  Welcome studied Addie for a long time, then replied, “I got my reasons. I wouldn’t ask about them. No sir, I would not.”

  Addie decided Welcome’s reasons could wait for another time. Addie nodded at Ned. “It might work.”

  Ned looked skeptical. “Your brother would turn over the money just like that, just for the asking?”

  Emma frowned. “That’s the question, isn’t it? And I don’t know the answer for certain.” She spoke slowly, as if she were thinking out loud. “John doesn’t really believe he cheated me, and he doesn’t know how much I hate him. He always trusted my judgment before.”

  “Wouldn’t he want to see the land for himself?” Ned asked.

  “It’s harvest time. He wouldn’t want to leave. And I don’t believe it’s in John to think his own sister would cheat him.” She looked up and smiled at Ned, then at Addie. “I think it’s worth a try.”

  Ned grinned back. “Hell, why not ask him for ten thousand dollars while you’re at it?”

  “No, John would never agree to that. Besides, five thousand is mine. It wouldn’t be right to cheat my brother out of what’s his.”

  “No?” Addie asked.

  “It wouldn’t be right,” she repeated. There was an edge to her voice that surprised Addie.

  “How about fifty-five hundred, then. You get five thousand. Ned and I can get five hundred for helping you out. It’s only right, what with me taking you in like I did. Seems like he wouldn’t mind paying for that.” Addie smiled at Ned, who beamed at her in admiration.

  Welcome stood up and tightened her apron strings. She picked up the dirty plates, balanced the butcher knife on top of them, and started for the dishpan. Then she stopped. “I guess you better make that fifty-seven fifty, so’s I get my cut, too.” She turned and gave Addie a lopsided grin, but Addie could see the woman was dead serious.

  Addie smiled back. She felt better about Welcome now that she understood her.

  Welcome had gone out back to the chicken coop where she slept, but the other three were still at the table when Miss Belle and Miss Tillie returned. The two boarders went through the front door and down the hallway to the kitchen, chattering. They stopped when they saw Emma.

  “That’s the one,” Miss Tillie told Miss Belle. Miss Tillie was a sizeable
girl, short with orange hair and freckles that she powdered over with flour, and she was so bowlegged, she couldn’t pen a pig in a ditch. “I knew she was here last night. I told you I had a feeling something was different. I always get feelings.”

  “She’s old,” Miss Belle whispered, loud enough for Emma to hear. Miss Belle was tall and buxom with dark hair and eyes that smoldered when she looked at men. She was very popular. “We heard about you in town,” Miss Belle told Emma. “Lordy, everybody knows. I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a wooden nickel.” She frowned, not sure that had come out right.

  Addie shook her head. Those two were dumb enough to drown in a hoofprint of water. They needed looking after. Maybe that was why she had taken them in. “You wouldn’t be in anybody’s shoes for a wooden nickel,” Addie told her.

  “You’re not to take the cowboys from the Rockin’ A. They’re mine, all of them,” Miss Tillie said, then added, “not that they’d want you, you being old and all. But men are curious, Lordy yes, and they might want to give you a try, but you tell them no.” Miss Tillie was rarely anybody’s first choice at The Chili Queen, and she guarded her few loyal customers with a fury. “You wouldn’t want to cross me,” she warned.

  Emma blushed and looked as if she wanted to disappear. But she said nothing. Instead, Addie spoke up. “Miss Emma is a guest of mine. She isn’t a whore, and you treat her proper. And don’t you gossip about her in town, or I’ll snatch you bald-headed.” The girls giggled. They knew that Addie was fond of them and that her threats didn’t mean anything. And Addie knew that whatever the girls picked up at The Chili Queen, they would spread around town, no matter what she said. She’d have to keep them away from Emma—just as she’d always kept them away from Ned.

  Miss Belle sat down on a kitchen chair and sulked. “She’ll give us a bad reputation is all. Men don’t want no turned-away mail-order bride.”

  Addie glanced at Emma, who had slunk down in her chair. “I told you to mind your manners, Belle,” Addie said.

  “I bought new ribbons for my hat,” Miss Tillie said. She looked at Ned as she spoke, but she couldn’t catch his eye.

  “I’ll sew them on for you,” Emma spoke up.

  But Addie shook her head. “Welcome’s the only servant around here, although she’s no better with a needle than a hen with a thimble. You sew them on yourself, Tillie. You do a good enough job with your needle; they’ll look mighty pretty. Go on upstairs and take Belle with you. We have business taking place at this table.”

  “What kind of business you got with an old maid?” Miss Tillie asked.

  Addie sighed. “I brought perfume from Kansas City, and I’ll give it to you presently if you mind your manners.” She waved the girls away.

  “Come on, Belle. I’m not too good to sew on bonnet strings.” Miss Tillie slammed the door as the two left the room.

  Addie went over and opened the door to make sure they were not listening. “I’d get rid of those two whores, but their heads are as empty as their pocketbooks,” Addie said, although she knew she was too soft ever to fire anybody. “I guess they’d starve if I threw them out. Besides, I’ve got nobody else. There but for the grace of God…,” she added, remembering Emma’s phrase.

  Emma stood up and went to the bucket of water by the door. She took a dipperful and sipped, throwing what was left out the back door. “I guess it’s time for me to go to my room,” she said.

  “Not just yet,” Addie told her, standing up herself. “I got a hookhouse to run, and you got a letter to write. Welcome will post it for you. You write it, and I’ll look it over.” Addie wanted to make sure Emma didn’t write anything that would give away their scheme. Emma was not wise in the ways of cheating; Addie was, she thought with pride. She set sheets of paper and a pencil on the table. Then she went into the bedroom and picked out a dress from the wardrobe and took it upstairs with her. She didn’t fancy sleeping another night in the hot little bedroom, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least, it was Sunday night, and business would be slow. She wouldn’t have to do her part. As she left the room, she looked over her shoulder at Emma and wondered if the woman appreciated what she was doing for her. Then she glanced at Ned, who winked at her. He, at least, was grateful for the scheme she’d dreamed up.

  Emma reached for a sheet of paper and squared it in front of her on the oilcloth. The paper was wrinkled, and she flattened it with her hand.

  Ned picked up the pencil, examined its broken tip, and took out his penknife, feeling the blade with his finger before he sharpened the lead. When he was finished, he handed the pencil to Emma and pushed the shavings into a neat pile on the table. “What are you going to say?” he asked.

  Emma shrugged. “He’s my brother, but I never wrote him a letter in my life.” She frowned at the paper and reached for the pencil, touching Ned’s index finger as she did so. Ned looked up quickly, but Emma didn’t see him. He rubbed his index finger with his thumb.

  “Dearest Brother John,” she began, then stopped. “I would never call him that,” she said. She crossed out “est,” then thought again and crossed out the entire word. “This will have to be a practice paper.”

  Ned folded his hands on the oilcloth. “You two don’t have much to say to each other.”

  “No.” Emma didn’t elaborate. Ned started to say something, but Emma held up her hand. “I have to concentrate.”

  It took her more than an hour of writing, blacking out words and crossing out sentences, rewriting, adding words here and there. At last she put down the pencil and held up the sheet of paper, moving her lips as she read the words to herself. “I think this will do,” she said.

  Ned reached for the paper, but Emma shook her head. “You won’t be able to read it. I’ll copy it over. Is there ink and a pen?”

  Ned shrugged. “Not that I ever saw, but I wasn’t looking.”

  “It would be better with ink. John always writes his letters in ink.” But she took a fresh sheet of paper and carefully copied the letter in pencil. She read it through, then went to the stove and used the lifter to remove the lid and dropped the first draft through the hole. “We wouldn’t want to leave this lying about where one of Addie’s girls might find it,” she explained. She stirred the fire with a poker until the paper caught and flamed up. Then she went back to the table, where Ned was reading the letter. He didn’t move his finger along the words when he read as Addie did.

  When he finished, he set the paper on the table and stared at it, while Emma studied him anxiously. “You are a man. I would value your opinion.”

  Ned leaned forward, his arms on the oilcloth, then he examined the cuff of his shirt where it had settled on a spot of gravy. He wet his finger and rubbed at the gravy, then gave up and rolled up his sleeves so the spot didn’t show. “Well, one thing, if I was your brother and disliked you as much as you say he does, I wouldn’t care what your husband thought of you. I’d just care what kind of money I could make. So I’d take that part out.”

  Emma picked up the pencil and crossed out a line.

  “And here’s another thing,” Ned said, squinting at the letter. “You don’t say in here why this rancher wants to sell you the land at half the price. I’d suspicion the deal if I could get twenty-thousand-dollar land for eleven thousand five hundred.”

  Emma thought that over. “Yes, I think that’s right.” She scribbled something.

  Ned squinted as he read the corrected letter. He read it through a second time, then grinned at Emma. “I’d say you got her.”

  Emma looked relieved. She copied the letter onto another piece of paper, and when she was done, she pushed it across the oilcloth to Ned. He read it through, then looked up slyly. “You spelt ‘written’ wrong. It’s got two t’s.”

  Emma looked startled, then embarrassed. She picked up the letter and squeezed in a second t. “Where did you learn to spell?”

  “I had a fair bit of schooling before I left home. I’m not as dumb as people think.”

&
nbsp; “No, I can see that,” Emma said.

  Emma began to fold up the letter, to turn it into its own envelope, but Ned put his hand on hers. “Better wait till Addie sees it. She wants to read it. You best do what Addie says.”

  Emma stiffened. “I believe I know how to write to my own brother.”

  “I said best let Addie read it.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  Ned leaned back on two legs of his chair and called out the back door, “You, Welcome, come on in here.” In a moment the servant came through the door. “Go fetch Miss Addie. Tell her she’s wanted.”

  Welcome eyed him. “What’ll I tell her’s so important she has to come?”

  “Tell her anything you want. Tell her the truth. You’ve been listening in.”

  Emma jerked her head around to look at Welcome, who met her eyes, then went through the kitchen to the parlor. In a minute Addie was back, looking displeased at being summoned. Emma handed her the paper, and standing up, Addie read it.

  “How come you didn’t tell him you want your husband to think good of you?” she asked. “That’s what I’d do.”

  “Yeah, she’s right,” Ned said, not looking at Emma.

  Emma didn’t reply. Instead, she took the letter from Addie, picked up the pencil, and wrote something. Then she got out another sheet of paper and began to copy the letter once more. Ned looked at Addie over Emma’s head and winked. Addie’s eyes lit up, then she glanced at Welcome, who was staring at her. Addie put her hands on her hips. “Go about your business. I don’t pay you to stand around and eavesdrop,” she said.

  “’Tis my business,” Welcome told her. “I got two hundred and fifty dollars on it.” Welcome went outside, her laugh following her across the backyard.

  As she watched the servant disappear, Addie clicked her teeth. It was a sound her mother used to make, and Addie wondered when she’d begun doing it. Sometimes she felt she was getting old, and that was a terrible thing in her business, even for a madam. At least, Addie thought, there wasn’t any gray in her hair—not any gray that hadn’t been colored with a nice gold, that is. She stood a little straighter and pulled in her stomach, arching an eyebrow at Ned. But he was looking at Emma, who had just set down the pencil. Addie studied him until he looked up at her and blushed, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. Addie wondered what he’d been thinking. “Read it,” Addie said.