Grading Garnet: The Red Petticoat Saloon

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Before she could speak, Mr. McIntyre said, “Look, you don’t have to eat here, but I’m going to. The head of the school board is bringing you here to eat, so I would think you could consider it condoned behavior. I have eaten here in the past and I shall continue to do so. So does the mayor, the doctor, the blacksmith, the owner of the mercantile, owner of the bank, the preacher…” She looked more undecided than she had, but still hadn’t moved. “Go find yourself something else to eat, then, although besides Miss Velma’s, I couldn’t recommend the food in any other establishment in town.”

  “Is Miss Velma a… who… um, another saloon?” she asked, changing the choice of words when she saw his eyes darken just for an instant.

  “Nope, it’s a café,” he said, pointing down the street. “Down about three blocks and then turn…”

  “I’ll find it!” Gloria said, twirling around and stomping down the sidewalk.

  “Meet me back at the mercantile in an hour.” Not about to give him the satisfaction of an answer, she stomped a few more feet forward and then almost jumped a step remembering what he’d said about expecting a verbal response when speaking to her. Not wishing to be chastised for her failure to do so, she stopped and turned around, her mouth already open to snap out that would be fine only to see the man had disappeared.

  “I hope you get food poisoning,” she muttered, staring daggers at the batwing doors. Smoothing down her skirts, she tossed her hair and continued down the street. Turning around a corner, she walked another block but didn’t see any signs of a café and the buildings were sparse. Sighing, her stomach beginning to rumble, she retraced her steps, crossed the street to walk down the left. She’d actually taken a step past the café she’d eaten in only a few days earlier when she noticed the sign painted across the window. Surely this couldn’t be the same place Mr. McIntrye recommended. The food had been just awful! Reading the sign again, making sure it did indeed say Miss Velma’s, she sighed and pressed her face against the glass, the dimness of the place causing her to frown. Stepping back, she moved towards the door only to see a piece of paper fluttering against the wood.

  “She’s closed.”

  The voice caused her to give a little shriek as she whirled around. An older gentleman with a broom in his hand had exited the shop next door. When her heart stomped threatening to jump from her chest, Gloria said, “Closed? It was open the other day.”

  “Yup, but it’s closed now,” the man said. “Miss Velma and her son packed up and went back east. Some sort of family crisis I think. She left the place in the hands of someone else but, well, seems the woman couldn’t cook nor keep from making people ill so she just up and closed the place. Miss Velma, now, she can cook and is supposed to be back, but who knows when.” He shrugged and added, “If you want some good vittles, go see Miss Nettie. Her gumbo is the best this side of the Mississippi.”

  Gloria couldn’t believe it. Her blood began to boil. She found it highly unlikely that if Miss Velma had been absent for weeks, that Mr. McIntyre wasn’t aware of that fact.

  “Something wrong, miss?”

  “What? Oh… no.” She forced herself to unclench her fists and even managed a small smile. “Um, you mentioned Miss Nettie… is there a chance that there is more than one such woman in Culpepper?”

  His laugh was instant and his smile wide. “Heck, no. The good Lord knew that one would be enough. Fine woman… fine, fine woman. I’m telling you, you want to sample what the food in heaven will be like, then get yourself on over to The Red Petticoat and dig in.”

  Gloria sighed and thanked him as she again retraced her steps. She’d expected a bit of strangeness in what was basically a gold-town, yet never once contemplated the fact that its citizens seemed to hold women of ill-repute in such high esteem. Once on the main street, she paused and then shook her head which she realized had lost the war with her stomach. She was starving! Gathering her courage, she stomped up the stairs, shoved open the batwing doors and stepped across the threshold, pausing for a second.

  “Come on in. Welcome to the Red Petticoat.”

  Gloria’s head snapped up, to see a pretty brunette behind a long counter. “I promise, no lightning bolt is gonna strike you dead.” The woman’s laugh was delightful and her promise actually had Gloria feeling a bit ashamed as that was exactly the thought that had popped into her mind the moment her foot set down on the polished floors of the saloon. It took her a moment to realize that the room was nothing like she’d imagined the interior of a saloon to be.

  She was surprised to see how beautiful it was. Somehow she’d pictured a much danker, dingier place, even though she’d seen that Dottie’s room, at least, definitely wasn’t that way.

  Why, it was nearly as beautifully appointed as any of the rooms at her parents’ house! It wasn’t gaudy at all, but rather full of understated elegance, and every bit of it screamed not only warmth and comfort, but attention to detail and cleanliness.

  There was no stale cigar smoke, but fresh cut flowers everywhere that lent a light—not overwhelming—floral scent, which mingled surprisingly well with the lingering aroma of excellent whiskey, amazing food, and expensive tobacco.

  Polished wood gleamed everywhere, glasses gleamed behind what she now knew was the bar and not just a counter. Brass spittoons shone in various locations and a large piano sat next to a raised area. There were several tables scattered about, the decks of cards sitting on their surface indicating they were used for gaming. A staircase was to her right and a large entryway beckoned to her left. She could hear voices and sounds but none she’d expect to hear in a… well, a whorehouse.

  “Honey, you looking for someone?” a different voice asked, drawing Gloria’s attention. This woman was just as beautiful as the one behind the bar. She was wearing a sapphire blue dress that while accentuating her rather ample breasts, did not scream trollop. Not even the red petticoat that Gloria could see beneath the hem of the dress seemed… well, trashy. “I’m Opal, and that is Amethyst but we call her Amy,” the brunette said. “Are you looking for a job?”

  The question yanked Gloria’s attention back to the reason she’d entered. “No!” Realizing she’d practically screamed in the woman’s face, she could feel her own heating. “I’m sorry. I… no, I, um, have a job. I’m looking for Mr. McIntyre?”

  “Ahh,” Opal said, her smile lighting her face. “If I know Seth, and since it’s lunchtime, I bet he’s in the dining room. Come on, I’ll show you where it is. It’s gumbo day you know.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Gloria managed to mumble, wondering why she felt a modicum of relief that the woman hadn’t said that knowing Mr. McIntyre, he was probably upstairs giving some whore… no, that wasn’t the word he’d used earlier… some gem a spanking followed by a tussle between the sheets.

  “Are you all right?”

  “What? Oh, um, yes. I’ve just never been in a… um, I’m just hungry.”

  “Like Amy said, welcome to the Petticoat and don’t fret. You’re not the first virgin to eat here and I promise you’ll be quite safe.” She giggled and tossed her hair, bending sideways a bit as if to speak in privacy. “Unless, of course, you’d like to sample more than Nettie’s cooking? Oh, there’s Seth now. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Gloria couldn’t even respond. Had that woman… Opal… just suggested that she might want to… Slamming that thought behind a steel door in her head, she saw her employer. Stiffening her spine, she tromped over to his table. He stood when she neared and held her chair out, then sat down again, whispering into her ear as he did so, “I hope you’re not going to wish that I’d brought the cushion from the wagon.”

  That earned him another glare, at which he simply smiled obsequiously.

  A young, very pregnant woman appeared at his elbow, and McIntyre greeted her warmly, asking after her and her husband.

  “We’re both fine, thank you, Mr. McIntyre. Hopping busy, as usual. I swear, this entire town knows when Nettie makes a big pot of gumbo but we also hav
e beef stew with biscuits, butter and honey or roast chicken with gravy, sautéed green beans and mashed potatoes in case your guest prefers something slightly less spicy.” The redhead giggled, her hand patting her rounded stomach. “Ever since this one’s been in the oven, I’m like Miss Jewel… can’t take the heat.” She yelped and then laughed when she looked up at the man who’d walked to stand behind her.

  “Jeb, I’m working here!”

  Gloria stared as the sheriff bent to kiss the woman’s cheek, his hand rubbing against the bottom he’d just swatted. “Just reminding you not to fib, Red. You like the heat just fine.”

  The woman rolled her eyes and swatted at him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said I can’t take it and you know I meant the spices, you big lughead.” Her smile told of her teasing as her red curls bounced when she turned back to their table. “Oh, and we also have a choice of shoofly or cherry pie for dessert.”

  “Miss Owens, may I introduce Mrs. Rebekah Justice, and, of course, you’ve already met her husband, Jebidiah. Ruby, this is Miss Owens. She’ll be teaching here in town when school opens.”

  Ruby smiled and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Owens. I know our little one won’t be ready for school for a while, but it will be so nice to know that she can get a good education when it is time.”

  “I’m sure he will be just as happy to get an education. See you tonight, Red,” Jeb said, giving his wife another kiss and giving her belly a caress.

  “We’ll both have the gumbo,” Seth said, “Oh, and the cherry…”

  “I’ll have the roast chicken, please,” Gloria interrupted.

  Seth shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Ignoring him, Gloria picked up her napkin, rather surprised to find it a high quality linen and placed it in her lap.

  “And what would you like for dessert?”

  “No dessert, thank you.”

  “No dessert?” Ruby said, looking as shocked as if she had blasphemed.

  It was Seth who did his best to change her mind. “Oh, Miss Owens, I promise you will truly regret that decision. Please choose whichever one appeals to you the most and I’ll get the other. Believe me, if you don’t finish yours, I will not hesitate to sacrifice my waistline to do so!” he pleaded, with his hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

  Ruby was giggling at the big man’s dramatics, and even Gloria cracked a small smile. “All right, all right. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to offend Mr. McIntyre’s culinary sensibilities. May I have the shoofly, please, Mrs. Justice? Thank you.”

  “Certainly, and call me Ruby. I’ll be right back with your orders.”

  Seth knew that Gloria had ordered the chicken just to be ornery. He didn’t mind as he intended on sharing some of his gumbo with her, and stealing a bit from her plate in return.

  And he was not wrong about the quality of the food. Every morsel she put into her mouth was like ambrosia. The chicken was well seasoned, the mashed potatoes had just right of creaminess, and the green beans were sautéed with very thin slices of spring onion and the slightest hint of bay and garlic. But it was the gravy that was the star—she could have drunk it like a soup!

  “Would you like to try a bit of my gumbo?” he asked, already eying her plate.

  Gloria expected that he would ask for her plate and put a bit of his meal on it. “No, thank you, I’ve never even heard of gumbo much less tasted it. Besides, I’m not accustomed to eating spicy foods.”

  “Come now,” he said, scooping up a spoonful of his gumbo. “Consider this another opportunity to educate yourself by actually experiencing something instead of making a decision based on what you might have heard about something.”

  Understanding that he was no longer just talking about the food, she had to admit that, at least so far, nothing of what she’d seen meshed with anything she’d ever heard about a saloon… much less a bordello. It wasn’t until the spoon moved to within an inch of her mouth that she realized he intended to feed the bite to her himself.

  It was highly improper to do so.

  And yet she found herself opening her mouth like an obedient baby bird so that he could do just that, and not regretting the intimacy one bit once that bite hit her taste buds and spices she’d never experienced before flooded her mouth. She was glad she’d taken the opportunity.

  The barest beginnings of a truly sensual moan escaped her before she could squelch it, and, even though he knew she was rhapsodizing about food, not him, Seth’s cock came immediately to attention, so much so that he had to adjust his napkin over his lap in a hurry.

  Her eyes were closed and he took the chance to observe her when she had no idea he was doing so. Despite the cheeks flushed with pleasure, she was the picture perfect representation of an old maid schoolteacher—severe hairstyle, plain face, if flawless skin—no attempt to make herself more attractive to the opposite sex whatsoever. Her dress was well made and serviceable, but without any particular style and in a dull brown, and besides that little watch piece of hers, she wore no jewelry.

  But he was no babe in the woods. He’d seen a reasonable amount of women, from fine proper ladies to the not so proper, and he fancied himself a bit of a student of female countenance. And he was quite convinced that, if she ever bothered to make the effort, she would be quite beautiful.

  Her waist length hair was already the stuff of his dreams and he’d barely kissed her. He barely knew her!

  “Oh, dear, Mr. McIntyre, I’m sorry for forgetting myself,” she apologized as his eyes slipped reluctantly away from her. “I got lost in that one bite of gumbo! You were right to recommend this place to me, and Miss Nettie is indeed deserving of every bit of praise I have heard you and others heap upon her. She is truly an amazing cook.”

  “That’s completely understandable, Miss Owens. Happens to the best of us around Miss Nettie’s food.”

  The desserts were scrumptious, and he fed her a forkful of his cherry, although she couldn’t quite work up the nerve to return the favor for him, she did offer him her plate. When he took a good sized chunk of her shoofly pie, she rapped him across the knuckles with her fork.

  “You put some of that back, Seth McIntyre! You took almost half my slice!”

  “What’s going on over here? Do I need to get my wooden spoon?”

  Surprised at the appearance of the dark skinned woman she’d seen in the mercantile, Gloria watched as Seth rose and hugged her.

  “Nettie, you’ve outdone yourself again. The food was absolutely delicious. Oh, Nettie, this is Miss Owens. Gloria, this is the famous Nettie.”

  Nettie rolled her eyes, her hands on her ample hips. “Stop avoiding the question. Did you steal half this poor little girl’s pie, Mr. McIntyre?”

  It was nice to see him blush for a change!

  “He absolutely did!” Gloria said, a little too loudly, brandishing her plate in front of Nettie to show what little he’d left her with.

  Backing away a bit, Seth sat down, his hands out in front of him placatingly. “Now Miss Nettie, holster your spoon. I’ll make it right.”

  And he did, too. Under her watchful eye, he not only gave Gloria back almost all of what he took, he even gave her what was left of his own slice.

  “Does that satisfy your sense of justice, Miss Nettie?” Seth asked with a grin.

  “Mmm-hmmm. You shouldn’t be taking food from Miss Owens, Mr. McIntyre. That’s not gentlemanly. This little girl needs to eat. A stiff wind would blow her away. You get Señora Garcia to feed this girl up. She’ll need all the strength she can get if she’s going to teach the youngsters of this town.”

  Gloria was not only surprised, but she was touched by the woman’s words. “Thank you, Miss Nettie. It was very nice to meet you. Your food was the most delicious I’ve ever had in my life.”

  Nettie beamed down at the young lady. “If you don’t mind my asking on such short acquaintance, do you have a beau, Miss Owens?”

  Coloring a bi
t, Gloria answered, “Well, no. I had one at one time, but he’s back east and it was never really going to work out between us.”

  “That’s too bad. A young lady like you should have a man around to protect her. Culpepper Cove can be a rough place for a nice young woman such as yourself.”

  “What am I? Chopped liver?” Seth asked, sounding indignant.

  “What are you, Mr. McIntyre? Not her beau, that’s what you are. She needs to get herself a man to look after her and keep an eye on her, make sure she’s safe and cared for and that she eats like she should.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Seth replied, because he agreed with what she was saying, and because he was beginning to want to consider himself to be that man for her.

  With that declaration, Nettie moved on to the next table, where even more praise was heaped on her head.

  Gloria turned her attention to the desserts she’d acquired, savoring every sweet bite.

  Seth leaned back in his chair, watching her somewhat covertly, but she was so wrapped up in enjoying her treats that she wasn’t paying that much attention to him.

  He’d bet even her bottom didn’t hurt at this moment.

  “She’s right, you know,” he ventured, waiting for her eyes to find his.

  Her head came up, and once she’d swallowed the bite of cherry pie she’d taken, then delicately licked her lips clean, leaving them stained slightly red and leaving him wishing she’d do that to his cock, she asked, “Right about what?”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Miss Owens. It doesn’t suit you.”

  The sharpness of his tone had her meeting his gaze and dropping the pretense. “You mean about me needing a beau?”

  “Yes.”

  Gloria shrugged. “That’s her opinion.”

  “It’s mine, too.”

  She gave him a pointed look. “You already know my feelings about matrimony, Mr. McIntyre, but I’ll take it under advisement,” she said, not wanting to argue with him about something like that in public. Pie was one thing, but her marital status—or lack thereof—was not something she wanted bandied about in front of all and sundry.