Okay, so maybe most women didn’t make the first move, but if he was truly interested in being with her, they needed to skip a few steps and go right to the courting stage. After all, they could be standing in front of a sin-buster, saying their vows any day now.
She leaned back from him. “Please, can we keep this our little secret for now?”
If the town gossips found out about her marriage proposal, they would be going from house to house with her scandalous proposition. She’d never live the ridicule down and would never have another marriage proposal in this small town.
He held up his right palm as if he were swearing to tell the truth. “Sure. No one needs to know.”
She smiled at him and placed her hand on his arm.
“Later, sheriff,” she said and hurried out the door.
God, she hoped she hadn’t just made a complete ass out of herself.
Chapter Three
A week passed with Meg working eight hours during the day at the laundry and then taking pieces of the mending home with her to work on at night. In seven days, she’d completed seventy pieces, and slowly the stack of work was going down. She had at least another weeks worth of work before she’d be caught up and could handle the pieces as they came in.
Before she went home, she had an important question for her boss. “Cho Linn, when are you going to pay me?”
The man’s face grew serious, his dark eyes cold. He waved his hand away. “Not today. Not this week.”
“So when?” she asked.
“When you finish.”
“But I need money now.”
“Not now.”
Meg gazed at the man, her Irish temper flaring inside like kindling on a fire. “Don’t think you can double cross me. I will get my pay.”
“Next week, next week,” he said. “Now go home.”
She gave him one last glare and then walked out the door. She still had to pick up Annabelle and Ruby, and then there were chores to do.
Hunger gnawed at her stomach, reminding her she’d not eaten today. Seldom did she eat lunch, and supper had been lean the last few nights. They were living off the eggs and the chickens, and they wouldn’t last forever. Their hen house was on the small side, and though the eggs were lovely, occasionally they killed a hen just to get meat. They craved meat, but eventually, the hens would run out. Then what would they eat?
Tonight, Zach was coming to dinner. All Meg could think to do was to kill one of her laying chickens. They needed something in their diet besides eggs.
Meg walked down the alley to where the horse and buggy were tied. The smell of burning applewood tempted her nose, and she breathed in deeply, remembering how her father used to smoke hams and turkeys. Sometimes, he’d use mesquite, and sometimes, he’d use applewood, but no matter what he used, the meat always tasted flavorful.
A pang of grief gripped her chest, and she gasped to keep from doubling over in pain at the memory of her father. They’d lost so much when he’d passed. Now they had no one.
Ambling down the alley, she wasn’t paying attention until she realized she was standing and watching a ham turning on a spit over a fire pit. She was hungry. She was starving. She was sick of eggs, and there was a roasting ham, the smell radiating through the air like a beacon for beggars.
Thank God, it was too hot for her to take because she didn’t think she had the strength to resist. Except, a second ham lay wrapped and cooling on the table. These people had two hams. Two and she needed one to feed her sisters. Just one to keep them from starving. One to serve to Zach at dinner tonight.
She glanced down the alley; there was no one around. Quickly, she yanked the ham off the table and ran as fast as she could down the path. She’d never stolen anything in her life. Surely, she could be forgiven just this once.
*
Annabelle glanced around the crowded restaurant and sighed. Today was her third day working in the Rusty Café. She’d never eaten here before and after witnessing the dirty kitchen, she never would. No, it wasn’t the best work, but it was a paying job. And they needed the money.
“Order up,” Rusty yelled from the back.
Annabelle hurried through the tables toward the kitchen. Rusty’s wife handed her the two plates.
“Get ‘em out there before they get cold,” Georgina told her brusquely. The woman was less than friendly and even appeared downright rude most of the time.
“Yes, ma’am,” Annabelle replied, her feet already moving toward the table whose order she held. It was a job. A way to help save their family farm, and she could put up with just about anything as long as she made some money.
Leaning over to place the plates in front of a cowboy, she felt his hand on her butt. She tensed and had to remind herself not to dump his lunch over the top of his head.
“Thanks, darling.”
She glared at him and smiled, her voice steely. “Sir, if you don’t want your lunch in your lap, I would recommend you remove your hand immediately.” She stared at him her look colder than a Montana blizzard. “This isn’t the saloon.”
He dropped his hand. “Sorry, you’re so young and sweet looking. You’re hard to resist.”
“That’s not the way to win my heart,” she commanded, setting the plates down. “Anything else, gentleman?”
“Nope, I think that will do,” the groper replied, giving her a warm smile she wanted to scratch off his face.
“Good. Enjoy your meal.”
She hurried off to see if the next table’s order was ready and then to see to some new arrivals. The work was non-stop during the breakfast, lunch, and supper hour. In fact, her sisters had waited for her at least twice this week. So far, it was a job, nothing more.
During lunch, it was non-stop, and then afterwards there was always something they had for her to do. Sometimes, Annabelle wondered if letting go of the farm wouldn’t have been easier. They could have gone somewhere new and had a fresh start.
“Annabelle, get in here,” Rusty, the owner called.
She went into the kitchen.
“Hey, love, would you mind taking out that trash there?”
“Sure,” she replied. “Watch and don’t let table four leave without paying.”
“Okay,” he said, grinning.
She bent over to pick up the bucket of trash and felt him lift her skirt. A large warm hand massaged her butt. What was it with the men in this restaurant? Did they just think she was available for them to grope?
She whirled around and almost threw the trash bucket at him. She dropped it to the floor. “Stop! Get your hands off me!”
He smiled. “Oh, honey.” He winked. “You enjoy it. I know you do.”
The urge to lift her skirt and pull out her shootin’ iron, had her fingers twitchin’. She would certainly enjoy watching him dance to the sound of her bullets.
“No, I do not enjoy your hands on my ass. Keep them to yourself,” she scolded firmly and picked up the trash facing him. From now on, she’d be watching Rusty. She wouldn’t turn her back on him again.
When she came back inside from emptying the trash, he yelled, “Table three’s order is up.”
He smiled at her and blew her a kiss when she picked up the order. She scowled at him.
Her feet were killing her, and the lunch rush usually lasted at least two hours. She still had another hour before she could sit down and count her tips. And then when she arrived home, the smell of food would linger on her clothes and she couldn’t stomach the thought of eating. Two weeks in, and she was beginning to hate this job.
“Lady,” some man yelled. “My coffee cup has been empty for the last twenty minutes.”
What an exaggeration. “I’m coming your way.”
A woman sat in the corner watching her. Well dressed in the latest women’s fashions, she almost seemed too fancy to be in a restaurant like this. A hat sat jauntily on the top of her head; her cheeks and lips were a brilliant red.
After Annabelle had given the man his coffee
, she walked over to the fancy woman’s table. “What can I get for you today? The specials are roast beef—”
“Honey, I don’t eat in this establishment.” She laid a card on the table and pushed it toward Annabelle. “You’re quite beautiful. You could be earning a lot more money.”
“Uh, thank you,” Annabelle said, feeling confused. If the woman was a calico queen just like she thought, then what was she doing here talking to Annabelle?
She laughed. “I bet you’re still as innocent as the day you were born.”
A blush crept up Annabelle’s face, and she didn’t know how to respond to the woman. Who was she?
“I just stopped in here because I heard the boys talking about Rusty’s new hired help. When you get tired of being paid nothing, being groped by the scalawags in this establishment, then contact me. The hours are longer, but the pay is much better.”
Annabelle picked up her card and gasped. The woman ran the Happy Days Brothel. Catering to a man’s pleasures, the card said, and Annabelle felt her heart leap into her throat.
She stared at the woman in surprise. Annabelle’s image of a prostitute didn’t match the woman’s appearance.
The woman laughed. “Yes, you’re an innocent. You know we could use that to your advantage. We could sell your virginity. You’d bring in top dollar.”
Oh, my God. The woman wanted Annabelle to sell her virginity? Really? They were certainly desperate, but she wasn’t ready to earn her living on her back. Not yet anyway.
“I’m not interested,” Annabelle spat out. Her mouth felt like it was filled with dust.
“I understand, but keep my card just in case you get enough of being a waitress.” She rose from the table and smiled at her. “Good day, Annabelle. Come see me.”
Annabelle watched the woman walk out the door, her head held high, wearing the latest fashion and looking so regal, while Annabelle wore food stains and smelled of today’s special.
A shiver shimmied down her spine and left her feeling rattled. She glanced around at the packed dining hall. She certainly didn’t want to do this for the rest of her life.
“Order up,” Rusty called, pointing at her to get over to the kitchen. She hurried across the room.
Picking up the plates, her arms loaded down, she smiled as she placed them in front of the diners. They all stared at her. For once, she felt like she was part of the daily special and revulsion filled the pit of her stomach, leaving her nauseous. God, she was coming to believe that being a saloon girl could not be any worse than a waitress, except for that final detail. Having sex with men who were not her husband and she didn’t even know their name would be like spreading your legs on a buffet, only she’d be the main course.
But being a waitress was not any easier. The men gawked at her like they imagined she was naked. Twice now she’d threatened to pour a man’s lunch in his lap if he didn’t remove his hand from her person, and then there was Rusty.
God, she hated this job. She hated it with a passion, but hopefully, it was temporary. But without Papa bringing home money, how could she and her sisters keep up the mortgage on the farm? And at what cost to their lives?
*
Meg ran around straightening everything, making sure the house looked just right. Her sisters had helped cook the side dishes and set the table. They all knew this was a big night. They had been shocked when she’d unwrapped the ham.
“What time is he arriving?” Ruby asked.
“He promised he’d be here at six.”
Annabelle glanced over at Meg. “Where did you get the ham?”
Meg bit her lip; she hated lying, but knew she had to, or her sisters would refuse to eat the meat, and they needed the energy the ham would give them. “Someone paid Ho Chinn with the ham, and he doesn’t eat pork.”
“Oh, well, thank goodness, he doesn’t like pork,” Annabelle said, slicing up the meat and laying it on a plate. She turned from the stove. “You’re not wearing those pants, are you?”
“This is all I have,” Meg said, wanting to kick her sister for such a stupid statement. Didn’t they realize she’d let the two of them have any material, any chance at new clothes? She’d done without, so they could wear dresses and have new shoes.
“Come with me,” Annabelle commanded. “The least we can do is change your shirt and put some lace on the collar.”
Meg followed her into the bedroom she shared with Ruby. So far, none of them had moved into their parent’s bedroom. It just didn’t feel right. They had closed the door on the room, unable to see where their father had died.
“Here,” Annabelle instructed, handing Meg a flowery shirt. “Put it on.”
Meg slipped it on and tucked the tail into her pants. So now, instead of plaid, she was wearing a tight floral shirt with her pants.
Ruby followed them into the room. “Sit down and I’ll fix your hair.”
While the hair iron warmed up on the fire, Ruby took down Meg’s red hair and brushed out the ponytail she always wore. “You know if you fixed yourself up a little more you’d probably be the prettiest one of us.”
“And just when do you think I’m going to have time to do all this primping? Are you going to get up early to feed and water the cattle?”
Sometimes she didn’t think her sisters realized how much she sacrificed for them. Sometimes she didn’t think they knew how much work she did. Sometimes she didn’t think they realized she was only a couple years older than either one of them.
Annabelle laughed. “She can’t even take care of the chickens.”
“Hey, I’m about to fix her hair. I would recommend the two of you be a little nicer.”
Meg gazed at her in the mirror. “Don’t ruin my hair. Tonight is very important to all of us, unless you want to spend the rest of your days on your hands and knees scrubbing floors.”
Nerves filled her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would accept her offer to be her husband. This time next week, she could be married, and he could be living here with them.
Ruby took the comb and parted Meg’s hair. “No, thank you. That ole woman is a witch. I never get them clean enough for her.” She put the hot curling iron in Meg’s long hair and twisted it around the iron barrel.
Meg stared in amazement as her sister transformed Meg’s wavy hair into soft curls.
When she finished, Ruby stepped back. “I knew there was a beauty underneath that hat and jeans.”
“Wow!” Annabelle declared. “You’re so pretty. If this man doesn’t ask you to marry him, he’s just plain stupid.”
Meg stared in the mirror at her reflection and was amazed at the transformation. She did look pretty; even with her pants on, she looked like a woman. She wanted to be like all the other women she’d known.
“There’s one thing missing,” Meg exclaimed. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her secret desire. She’d loved lipstick since she was a young woman and found a pot of the paint. Since then, she’d secretly put the color on her lips when she didn’t think people would notice.
“Meg?” Annabelle said. “That’s what a painted cat uses.”
Ruby started laughing. “Are you saying our sister is a prostitute?”
“Oh, please. I can’t wear dresses or look nice. Why can’t I have one little vice? Don’t you think I deserve something that makes me feel like a woman?” Meg said, sick to death of being the responsible self-sacrificing sister. Why couldn’t she look pretty and have a man courting her?
For a moment, neither sister said anything.
“It’s just a pot of rouge.”
“Oh, all right,” Annabelle conceded. “I guess it can’t hurt.”
“Show me how to put it on?” Ruby said, watching Meg dab her finger in the pot and smear the color across her lips.
“The secret is to get it so light no one notices,” Meg said as she dabbed the paint on, evening out the color. It was the first time in weeks the sisters had enjoyed a moment of being women in each other’
s company.
Meg realized how much she missed the camaraderie between the three of them and hoped things would soon return to normal.
“Wow. I can’t wait to try it,” Ruby said, almost jumping up and down like a little kid.
“Annabelle, here you need some color on your lips.” Meg smeared a dab of the color on Annabelle’s lips, and she gazed at herself in the mirror. “Just that little touch of color adds so much.”
“Don’t forget me!” Ruby squealed.
“How could we ever forget you?” Meg said with a laugh. She rubbed the paint across her youngest sister’s lips.
Ruby pranced in front of the mirror, making a kissing pout with her mouth and batting her eyelashes.
“Now, look what you’ve done. You’ve given her even more weapons to use on boys.”
Ruby smiled at Annabelle. “Don’t be jealous. I’m just adding to my arsenal, so some young man out there will be unable to resist my charms.”
Meg and Annabelle laughed. “Where does she get this stuff?”
Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t know.”
A knock on the front door interrupted their fun, and Meg felt her insides twist into a knot. This was it. “Oh dear, he’s here.”
Taking a deep breath, Meg tried to calm her nerves. This night was so important and could decide if they kept or lost the farm. If he said yes, it would be easy, but if he said no, she’d be adrift, lost not knowing what to do.
“Let’s go have dinner with our guest,” Meg said, and they walked out of the bedroom together.
With a shaking hand, Meg threw open the front door, and Zach’s mouth dropped like a boulder falling off the edge of the canyon floor.
“Wow, you look…fine as cream gravy, only more stunning,” he said, standing there.
“Thank you.” She took him by the arm and escorted him into the house. “You’re not too bad looking yourself, cowboy.”
The shirt he wore matched the earthy brown tone of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but notice the snugness of his pants. His body was trim, tight, and lean. And she wondered what a wedding night would be like with Zach.
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