by Kari Trumbo
She had to wear something. He couldn’t parade her about town in her birthday clothes. He took out a half-eagle and slapped it on her dressing table. “There. That should more than cover that tattered bit of cloth they gave you for a nightgown. Shameful, really, that they couldn’t even cover you when you weren’t working.” He regretted his words as soon as he saw the stricken look on her face. She hadn’t asked for any of this…well, maybe some of it, if what he’d heard from her sisters was true. And judging by the shaking in her hands, it was.
“You don’t understand.” She blinked back tears and the deep bruise on her cheek tore at him even more. “I’m always working.”
“Not anymore.” He turned from her, pushing his unwilling feeling of pity to his stomach. He had to worry about getting out of here first, then deal with her story. Let her sisters heal her. “Let’s get out of here before Roy brings back Ros’s men. I’d rather just walk out then have to threaten anyone.”
He went first, leading Hattie out of her cell and down the stairs avoiding the looks of the other painted ladies peering out at them from behind heavy doors. It didn’t even matter to him if they were jealous of Hattie, or if they’d chosen the life they led. They made it down to the saloon before two of Ros’s burly men met them, arms crossed and ankles wide, blocking the mouth of the staircase.
“Ros wants to know why you think you can steal from her?” The biggest man regarded them with squinting eyes and lowered his hands, ready to fight.
His badge would only get him so far in this little town. Hattie just had to stay close to him and he could get her out. Let Bullock handle the rest. “I didn’t steal anything. I left money for the few scraps of clothing Hattie’s wearing upstairs on the table.”
The man snickered. “I ain’t talking about her clothes. Hattie was paid for. She’s under contract to work here until Ros decides she isn’t worth the upkeep.”
A sick dread crawled up his spine. “Did she sign it?”
“Don’t matter. It’s binding.” He took a step closer, resting one huge hand on each side of the railing blocking them in. His chest the size of a wine barrel.
“Who signed it?” They had to get out of there quickly, a crowd grew around them and Bullock wanted to avoid confrontation without backup as much as possible. Hugh had worn his barkers, but they would do no good at such close range and might hurt innocent people, well perhaps not innocent, but those not involved in Hattie’s kidnapping.
“Ain’t none of your affair, lawman. Miss Hattie, you git right back on up to your room.” He glared over Hugh’s shoulder at Hattie and he could feel her grip his vest tighter.
“Don’t move, Hattie.” He glanced back at her then focused back on the brutes. “I have a letter from Sheriff Seth Bullock stating that Hattie is to be brought to Deadwood. Do you really want to stand in my way? Do you want to bring him here?”
“Bullock ain’t the law here.” The man spat a dark wad in the direction of the spittoon and took another step closer, his foot on the first stair.
Hattie scooted up close to his back, pressing herself against him and cowering. How many times had she hid from these fools? He squared his shoulders. There had to be a way out of this, at least temporarily.
“Your contract isn’t valid if she didn’t sign it. If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the judge…he should be coming along in two weeks. Until then, we’ll stay at that little cabin just down from the Keystone mine. The owner’s been letting me stay there. If you can provide proof that Hattie agreed to come and that she’s old enough to sign that contract, then I can’t stop you.”
Hattie squeaked in indignation behind him. He had to keep her quiet if they were going to get out of this. He reached for her hand and placed it in his as he squeezed it gently.
The man looked back at the other waiting at the base of the stairs. They’d obviously never been questioned before. Taking them both on alone would be more than foolish, it might be deadly. He’d most likely lose and they’d take out their trouble on Hattie. She had enough marks on her to last a lifetime.
A woman with red stained lips and a purple silk robe that was in much better repair than Hattie’s strode into the room. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun with two sticks poking through it. Everyone went silent as the diminutive woman approached the two henchmen.
“What’s going on here? Why isn’t Hattie back up in her room by now?” She glared at Hugh.
He almost laughed at the pale woman who commanded her small army around her. But, that wouldn’t get him the desired result. He moved to rest his hands on his hips then quickly changed his mind when they brushed against Hattie’s.
“Hattie was taken from her home. I’ve come to take her back. It’s as simple as that. I have a letter from Bullock saying he wants her in Deadwood. If you won’t let her go free, the circuit judge will have to decide.”
“Then I guess he will because I’m not just letting her go. I paid for someone to be in that room and there will be. She wasn’t old enough to sign a contract but her guardian did, it’s perfectly legal.”
Now she’d rubbed him wrong. “Maybe you haven’t heard the news, but slavery is illegal, even here. You aren’t allowed to just buy people.” Hattie’s hands clenched just over his hips and he felt the soft pressure of her forehead against his back.
“Prostitution is legal here, Deputy. I don’t think you have a leg to stand on. Fine, you stay in your little shack and enjoy Hattie’s company. But, in two weeks, you’d best be prepared to bring her back, and pay for all the time you’ve had her. She ain’t free. Oh, you’d also better have a sizable account. She’s a sot. She’s been drinking almost two liters of whiskey a day.” She swung around, her robe billowed out around her, followed by her two men.
Hugh sighed. He hadn’t really wanted to stick around Keystone any longer than he had to. It would be good to get back to Deadwood and see Da and Mam again, and even his brother, Aiden. Now that they were away from the farm in Kansas, he wanted to get to know him better. He’d never admit it to Aiden, but he was the reason Hugh had rekindled his faith. A faith he’d need if he were going to stay in that tiny shack with Hattie. But he’d signed on to bring Hattie home, so stay he would.
“I’m free?” she choked into the fabric of his vest.
He turned around and she fairly jumped into his arms. He hadn’t prepared for it and the wisp of a girl almost bowled him over, down the stairs. She was far too tiny—skinny would be a good word—and her fierce hold on him made her tremble.
“Yes, for at least the next two weeks, you’re free. I need to wire Bullock and get someone here to back me up. In the meantime, we need to get you to that shack and away from everyone here.”
She nodded, pulling away from him, and tucked his coat tighter around her body. The motion saying more about her fears and insecurities than she’d ever have to voice. He wished he’d thought to bring her some clothes but it hadn’t been on his mind. Find her, bring her home. Those were his first thoughts every morning for the last eleven months. He’d thought he’d been close a few times. The search had finally made him understand the draw Aiden had seen in gold mining. When you found the treasure you were seeking, it made your heart race in your chest with a kind of joy he couldn’t name.
He put his hand at her waist and directed her out of the saloon and into the bright sun. He had one horse but he could walk. He’d offer it to her, but he couldn’t ride with her dressed like that.
She squinted into the sun as she looked up at Daisy and shook her head. “I’ve never ridden. I wouldn’t even know how to get on.”
He smiled. Perfect. “Then we’ll walk.” He held out his arm and she looked at it for a moment, her face pensive. A tear traced its way down her sunken and bruised cheek. “No, mister. I don’t deserve your arm.” She turned and headed north, leaving him to catch up.
Chapter Three
HATTIE PULLED HUGH’S HUGE oil coat closer around her and let the heavy weight comfort
her like a wall between her and everyone else. She hugged her arms close to her body to keep it closed.
Though it was before noon, the dusty streets of Keystone were bustling with life. After being trapped within the confines of the saloon, the town felt wide open. The owner of the hotel stood outside on his wide veranda, his lean gray suit shining in the sun as he wiped the sweat off his brow. He was so engaged in his task of sweeping he didn’t notice her until she’d almost passed him. When he saw her, his eyes snapped wide and his broom touched nothing but air as his body continued the sweeping motion. A child chasing a ball stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. As she walked down the street, other people stopped and took note of the dove who’d dared leave her cage. Her feet seemed to slow of their own accord, the weight of their gazes making her feet as heavy as a whet stone. Hugh stepped up behind and put a comforting hand between her shoulders.
“Come, this way.” He led his horse along behind him and directed her down the street past the sea of spectators. Her stomach clenched as she recognized some of the faces they passed. One man, Mr. Henches—if she remembered correctly, though she doubted they gave their real names when they visited the Red Garter—stopped in front of Hugh and glared at them both in turn.
“You there.” His voice rose above the bustle of the street until everything was silent around them. It was like a free show and she was the entertainment.
“Finally taking out the rubbish. Good riddance.” He spat at her face. She flinched away, but not fast enough. Her hands trembled as she wiped it from her cheek. Hugh pushed ahead of her and landed a punch to Mr. Henches’ mouth, knocking him back onto his hind quarters. A dribble of blood marred his lips under a bushy mustache.
“In case it escaped your notice, she isn’t in cuffs. She isn’t my prisoner. Stand aside or I will take out the rubbish.” Henches pushed back to his feet, his face pinched in fury. Hugh shoved him out of the way and Hattie grabbed on and clung to the arm she’d refused a few moments before. Now she was hoping they could just leave before anyone else stopped them. Hugh gathered her close to his side and took up the reins as they finished the long walk down the block and to the edge of town. The eyes burning into her back left their mark as surely as if they’d actually hit her with the stones they had on their minds. Though prostitution was legal, it was a dirty little secret. No one liked having to admit they indulged, even when the next man on the street probably indulged just as much.
Hugh flipped the reins over the hooked horseshoe on the outside of the last building, the mercantile, and drew her up the stairs.
“I’ll be just a minute. Will you be all right here?” His eyes glanced briefly at his coat around her and his dilemma was clear as the mountain sky, leave her outside to the wolves, or take her inside and risk being thrown out.
She nodded and hid beside the horse, hoping that most people would be at work, not leaving or entering town where they could see her. Hugh stepped inside for only a few minutes and she was proper glad he did. She didn’t belong out in the open, dressed as she was. But what choice did she have?
Hugh strode back down the steps a few minutes later and turned to her, his eyes lightened. “I just sent a note to Bullock. He can send one of his men to tell your family you’ve been found. We might need one of them to come here if the judge wants proof you’re too young to sign anything and that you were taken from your home. They’ve got the next two weeks to come up with a document that you signed, because they know anything signed by Roy won’t hold up, unless you married him, then there might be some trouble.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot. That first night when he’d taken her from Deadwood, she’d wished she would be his bride, then the first few weeks at the saloon, he’d even teased her with someday. Someday he’d have enough money and she could be his bride. She’d never have to lift a finger. Now, she was glad he’d never followed through. He was a horrible man and marrying him would’ve tied her to the saloon forever. She concentrated and tried to remember if she’d ever signed anything, but those first few days were, thankfully, somewhat blurry. She’d cried a lot and relied on Roy. He’d convinced her she had to do the job for him, that he would love her if she did. He hadn’t. He’d loved her body and the money she made for him, but never her.
“I never married that no-account, lousy cur, and I don’t recall ever signing anything.”
Hugh flipped the reins free of the post and frowned.
“Mister, aren’t you afraid of what people will think of you? Taking me out of town…alone? Me?” The shard of hope she’d had back at the saloon smashed into a million tiny pieces. No respectable man would allow anyone to see him taking a prostitute into his home.
The sound Hugh made may have been a laugh, but it could just as easily have been a cough. “No, these aren’t my people and I don’t care what they think of me. I’m not saying they aren’t good people, but those I love are in Deadwood, far from Keystone. No one knows me here, and they won’t remember me after I’ve left.”
Hugh glanced down to her as he moved them around a bend outside of town and up the gentle slope to the cabin in the trees just out of sight of town. For the first time since she’d left Deadwood, she felt her age. She’d counted the days and knew she’d turned eighteen just a week before, meaning her twin Eva had also celebrated a birthday. Celebrated… Hattie hadn’t celebrated anything in a long time.
Hugh touched her back with a hint of gentle pressure then dropped his hand, bringing her thoughts back to the present and allowing them to just walk. He was silent, far too quiet for her nervous thoughts. What would they do once they got to the cabin? He couldn’t possibly be worse than Roy had been, but she really didn’t know. She’d trusted him, but now, her stomach roiled. Her hands shook more than they ought, even from nerves. The sun was far too bright and her head throbbed with its intensity. She covered her face with her hand, but it didn’t help. The sun seemed to pulse and burn brighter.
“Mr. Bradly, I really need…” She shook her head. He wouldn’t help her, not like Roy had, and did she want him to? Roy had taken every advantage. Every help he’d given her had come with a kingly price tag. Eventually, all that had been left of her was despair.
“I know what you think you need, Hattie. You won’t feel strong enough to get past it for a while, maybe even the full two weeks or more. You might always crave it. Part of your mind will always think it needs it, but you are stronger and you need to be at your full strength and wit when we go before the judge.”
“I don’t feel stronger.” She stumbled, the throbbing in her head intensified to a drum beat.
“You won’t for a few days. I could get you free of Madame Ros, I can lay hands on every man who looks at you for a second longer than I’d like, but I can’t free you from this. In fact, for a little while, it’ll feel like I’m keeping you in more of a prison than she ever did. You might even hate me when I hand you back to your family. But since I have to keep you here for a few weeks, I’d like to hand you back to them even better than the way you left them.”
Heat rose through her and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. “I’ll never be the same, mister. Never.”
He stopped and touched her arm, and his touch was so different from any that had been forced on her. It wasn’t meant to inflame, not her or himself. He wanted to give comfort, not take anything. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was talking about the drink. I won’t minimize what you’ve been through. I can’t make that go away, but I can help you over this mountain.”
Hattie stared up at a large cleft of white rock jutting out of the mountain above them and suspected it would be much harder to overcome her mountain than the one looming over them now.
Chapter Four
HUGH SLOWED HIS PACE as they approached the small cut-log cabin tucked into the spruce trees, hidden from view of anyone but the Lord. He’d have to keep that in mind. What in blazes had he been thinking, agreeing to have this girl stay with him here? Her shoulder barely re
ached his chest but her hand still clung to his arm. The closer they got, the more she stumbled. Though she hadn’t said a word about food, she probably hadn’t eaten in who knew how long, and her energy was flagging—if he was reading her pace correctly.
He’d been staying at the cabin for the last week, since he’d gotten the lead from a miner on his way to the Homestake mine in Lead. He’d told him about a girl in Keystone that sounded like Hattie. In the beginning, Bullock had thought Hattie had been taken to Lead. It was a company town for the Homestake mine, but had since tried to shed its skin and change into a more civilized town, much of that due to the wife of one of the primary owners of the mine, Phoebe Hearst. He’d gone their first, but that had been months ago. He’d almost lost all hope of ever finding her. Had even prayed for a while that maybe she had found a home, husband, and happiness, and that’s why he couldn’t find her. Instead, she’d been in the tiny town of Keystone, tucked away in the hills.
Hattie hadn’t been in Lead, though, he’d spent weeks wasting precious time looking. Now, here she was, and his excitement had gotten the better of him. He should’ve waited to message her family until she was ready, but he’d been specially deputized to take on the task of finding Hattie, a job that he’d failed at, until today. Hattie didn’t know it yet, and he’d have to tell her soon, but her brother in law, Aiden, was his brother. Not close enough to be relation, but close enough that he cared deeply about finding her and bringing her back. Hattie’s twin sister, Eva, had been heartbroken with missing her and it had staked him deeper than he’d allowed anything to touch him in a long time. He’d made a promise, and Hugh never went back on his word.
Hattie stopped abruptly, her hand fell from his arm, and she sat on the side of the trail. His coat swallowed her, making her look even smaller. He’d have to make sure she was fed better. Ros and Roy had let her waste away to bones. The dark areas under her cheeks made the rest of her face ghastly pale, excepting the blackening bruise on her cheek. How could a man call himself a man and do that to a woman, and one who couldn’t fight back neither?