by Sharon Sala
“Want a shave with that, too?” Orville asked, as he fastened the barber cape around Harley’s neck and tried not to look at the man’s swollen nose and black eyes.
Harley rubbed a hand on his jaw, testing it for soreness, and nodded an okay.
“Yeah, sure. My face isn’t as tender as it had been.”
“That’s good,” Orville said, tilted the chair back enough to get a good angle for a shave, and then poured some hot water in a basin.
He dipped a clean towel in the water, wrung it loosely, and then wrapped it onto Harley’s face, making sure to leave his nose free to breathe.
“Damn, Orville, that’s hot,” Harley said.
Orville knew it, but pretended innocence as he worked up a lather in the shaving mug.
“Sorry,” Orville said. “Softens up the whiskers good, don’t you know.”
Harley grunted, and crossed his hands across his belly, unaware that Orville had walked back to the door.
“Got a couple of strangers in town,” Orville said.
Harley could have cared less and let it be known.
“So what? Hurry up with my shave and haircut. I got business later.”
Orville figured Harley’s business was monkey business and took his own sweet time getting back to the job at hand. Finally, he removed the towel, slathered on a good dose of lather, and began to give Harley his shave.
He had finished the shave and was working on the haircut when, to his surprise, the stranger appeared in the doorway.
“Sir, I am Reverend Randall Howe. I understand you are needing the services of a preacher.”
Orville’s mouth dropped. It was the same man who’d ridden in on the mule. He would never have guessed the man to be a preacher.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“My name is Reverend Randall Ward Howe, and I am at your service. I can see that you are busy. I am at the boarding house and will await your pleasure.”
Eulis bowed, then left the barber shop as abruptly as he’d entered.
Harley froze, gave Orville a nervous glance, as if he feared Orville was going to try and hold him to his original promise, then started to undo the cape.
“Sit still, damn it,” Orville said. “I only cut one side of your hair.”
“Then hurry up,” Harley said. “Lola’s waiting on me.”
Orville frowned. None of this mess would have happened if Harley had been able to keep his prick in his pants. Then Fannie wouldn’t have gone all crazy and gotten herself engaged to Myron Griggs. How was it going to look to the decent folks with his daughter married to the man who sold women and booze on a daily basis?
“Orville? Did you hear me? I got business.”
Orville glared at the back of Harley’s head and then started to snip.
At first it was just one angry snip, but then another followed, and then another, and the first thing Orville knew, he had one side of Harley’s hair at good two inches shorter than the other. He turned the chair toward the windows so Harley couldn’t see himself in the mirror and began working on the long side, trying to even it up. He was doing all right until he saw that woman who’d ridden in on the mare walking past his shop. She walked like a warrior, with her chin up and her shoulders straight and proud. Her stride was long and purposeful and that long, brown hair was still flying out behind her like a sail. He got another whiff of polecat and frowned. It was strange that every time he saw the woman he smelled skunk, then discarded the notion.
“Are you done?” Harley asked.
Orville looked down at Harley’s hair. There was a big hunk out of the crown that shouldn’t be there and what had been the short side of Harley’s hair was now the long side again, which also meant that he’d royally messed up this haircut.
“Pretty much,” Orville said, whipped off the cape and gave Harley a push. “This one’s on me.”
Harley stood up and grinned, revealing a three tooth gap in his once perfect smile as he set his hat back on his head without bothering to look.
“Well, thanks, Orville.”
“Don’t mention it,” Orville muttered, then stepped out to the sidewalk again, looking for the strange woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.
***
Fannie was hanging laundry out on the clothesline in back of the house when she heard someone calling her name. She dropped the piece of wet clothing back in the basket and then moved toward the fence.
“I’m out here,” she called.
Moments later, Myron came running around the corner of the house. He vaulted the fence and swooped her up into his arms.
“He’s come, Fannie Mae! He’s come. It’s a sign from God, himself that this marriage is right!”
Fannie was laughing before she even knew what Myron was talking about. She was laughing because someone loved her. She was laughing to keep from crying because someone cared.
“Myron! Myron! You have to put me down,” she finally said, and thumped him on the arm. “What will people think?”
Myron laughed, but he stole a kiss on her cheek as he set her back on her feet.
“I suppose they’ll think I’m in love with my girl,” he said.
Fannie blushed, but her heart was singing.
“What brought on all this fuss?”
Myron clapped his hands. “The preacher. He’s here.”
Fannie’s eyes widened. Even when Myron had said he’d find one, she hadn’t really believed it would happen.
“Are you sure… I mean, are you sure he’s a preacher?”
“Yes, your father just told me. He showed up about an hour ago riding a mule. Said someone at Ft. Mays told him a preacher was needed in Dripping Springs. That had to be Murphy. He was in the saloon the night I proposed to you. I told all the customers that night to spread the word that a preacher was needed and Murphy was on his way to Ft. Mays.”
“Oh my!” Fannie murmured. It was going to take a bit of getting used to, to accept that her husband sold liquor and women, but then she laughed. So what. He’d kept his word, which was more than her father or Harley had even pretended to do.
“I’ve already talked to him,” Myron said. “He’s not going to be in town for long, so I thought maybe tomorrow…”
Fannie smiled, and laid her palm against the side of his face. His skin was smooth and he smelled of witch hazel. She could feel the pulse of his lifeblood beneath her skin and it was the closest she’d ever been to a man in her life. And if she married him as she’d promised to do, she was going to give herself to this man in the most intimate of ways. Could she do it? Myron smiled at her then and her heart fluttered. She put her hands over her heart to still the nervousness and nodded.
“Tomorrow would be fine.”
He whooped again and kissed her soundly.
“I’ll be back tonight. We can finish making plans together, okay?”
Fannie’s heart skipped a beat.
“Mrs. Bartlett brought us some fresh pork this morning. I was going to fry it up tonight. How does that sound?”
“Like heaven,” Myron said, kissed her once more for good measure, and then vaulted back over the fence and took off down the street.
Fannie turned to the clothesline and began hanging up the rest of the laundry. Nothing seemed any different than it had been five minutes earlier. The laundry was still wet. The sun was still shining. She hung her father’s shirt on the line and then bent down to pick up another article of clothing. Instead, she stopped, ran her fingers along the surface of her lips and smiled. Her lips were still tingling. Her heart was threatening to leap out of her chest. Tomorrow night she would be a married woman and all that implied. At the thought, she felt a moment of panic, and then remembered the gentleness in Myron’s touch. She might not know much of what was expected of her, but she wasn’t going to deny herself the opportunity to learn.
She could sew and cook and clean house better than most. She knew how to take good care of a man in every way but one. If only her mother was still alive. Sh
e very badly needed a woman to talk to, but there was no one in Dripping Springs with whom she was close enough to get so familiar.
Never one to dwell on what was missing in her life, Fannie threw the rest of the wet clothes across the line without care for how they were hanging and headed for the house. If she was going to get married tomorrow, there were some things she needed to buy.
***
Mercer’s Mercantile was empty, except for one woman at the back of the room, as Fannie entered the store. Lucy Mercer stepped out of the storage room long enough to see who’d come in, and called out.
“Fannie, dear, I’m in the back,” Lucy said. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes if that’s all right.”
“Take your time,” Fannie said.
Lucy waved merrily and went back to counting out the eggs she was buying from a local farmer, leaving Fannie to stew in her pre-marital woes a little longer.
Fannie moved toward a table where several bolts of fabric were stacked and fingered the textures, wishing she had time to send off for something suitable for a veil. There were a couple of bolts of something sheer near the bottom of the stack, and she started shifting them to get a better look. As she was struggling with a rather large bolt of calico, she smelled skunk. Before she had time to consider the oddity of the scent with where she was standing, the woman who’d been in the back of the store spoke to her.
“Need some help?”
Fannie turned, and then wrinkled her nose as the skunk scent grew even stronger.
Letty sighed. She could tell by the look on the woman’s face that she’d gotten a whiff.
“Sorry,” she said. “I had an unfortunate encounter with a skunk.”
Despite the woman’s objectionable smell, Fannie grinned.
“Bless your heart,” Fannie said. “I can’t say I know how you feel, but I can honestly say I know how you smell.”
It was the forthrightness of the remark that made Letty laugh.
“At last, an honest woman,” Letty said, and then reached in front of Fannie and lifted the top bolts away, giving Fannie access to the cloth she’d been eyeing.
“Thank you,” Fannie said, as she pulled it out from beneath the pile. “My name is Fannie Smithson.”
“I’m Sister Leticia Murphy, traveling associate of Reverend Randall Ward Howe. He’s come to Dripping Springs to marry a couple.”
Fannie gasped. “Oh! How fortuitous! I’m the one who’s going to get married.”
Letty smiled, although it had to be said she felt a moment of pure envy. Why couldn’t she find someone with whom to spend the rest of her life? This little woman was somewhat homely, yet even she had found true love.
“Well, now,” Letty said. “It seems congratulations are in order. I’ll bet you’re as nervous as a cat, aren’t you?”
“Not so much nervous as just uncertain,” she said, then fearing she’d said too much, began fiddling with the fabric, unwinding some and then holding it up to the light to see if it was sheer enough to pass as a veil.
Letty glanced toward the back of the store where the owner was still deep in conversation with the farmer who’d brought in the eggs. After her success with the young woman in the other town who’d tried to do herself in, she felt it was her duty to caution new brides. Not that she knew what the hell there was to caution them about, but it seemed like a duty that a traveling association of a preacher should do.
“You say you’re uncertain. Are you referring to your feelings, because if you are, you should not marry a man you don’t trust.”
Unconsciously, Fannie clutched the fabric against her breasts as if it was a shield. She started to speak and then stopped. It seemed ridiculous to confide in a total stranger. But then the more she thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed. Who better than a stranger? She would never see the woman again. What did it matter if she embarrassed herself once if it got her the answers she so desperately desired.
“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Fannie said. “Because I do. He’s a wonderful man.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Letty asked.
Fannie glanced over her shoulder, making sure they were still alone, then lowered her voice.
“He doesn’t have a problem. I fear it is I who is lacking.”
Letty frowned. “Lacking how?”
Fannie glanced at Letty, then quickly looked away.
Suddenly, it dawned on Letty that the girl was embarrassed, and if that was the case, it had to be about sex.
“Have you spoken to your mother about your fears?” Letty whispered.
Fannie quickly shook her head. “My mother is deceased and I can’t speak to Father about such things.”
Letty stifled a smirk. Being skunked hadn’t dulled her instincts. It was about sex and the Good Lord only knew she was an expert at such.
“What things are you talking about?” Letty asked.
Fannie blushed.
Letty put a hand on the young woman’s back and pushed her toward the door.
“Let’s take a little walk, shall we? I know I smell bad and it’s not so disgusting in the fresh air.”
Fannie didn’t realize how desperate she looked as she laid the fabric down.
“I shouldn’t bother you with such things,” Fannie said.
Letty grinned. “Trust me, dear, it’s not a bother.”
Fannie beat her to the door.
“Ask away,” Letty said. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Fannie clasped her hands beneath her chin and swallowed nervously.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Are you a married woman?” Fannie asked.
“Not now,” Letty said, letting the young woman assume that she had been but was now widowed.
“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Fannie said. “Maybe I shouldn’t. My asking you about such personal things could only bring back sad memories for you.”
Letty slipped her hand beneath Fannie’s elbow and started walking her down the street.
“Memories are nothing but parts of the past that I haven’t had time to forget,” she said. “Now tell me, what do you know?”
Fannie flushed. “I know what happens, but not how or what my part in it has to be.”
Letty stifled a grin. She reckoned there was going to be one really happy bridegroom when she got through with Fannie Smithson.
“Okay,” Letty said. “Are you interested in enjoying your wedding night, or are you the kind of woman who just intends to do her duty?”
“Up to now, I haven’t had much in my life to enjoy, but I would certainly like to enjoy my husband.”
Letty smiled primly as she aimed them for a bench on the shady side of the street. “I totally approve, now sit with me. We can see who’s coming and going without being overheard.”
They sat.
Letty leaned forward until her and Fannie’s foreheads were almost touching, then she started to talk.
Any passerby that might have noticed them would have seen nothing untoward except the intermittent flush of color on Fannie Smithson’s cheeks. Every now and then Fannie would interrupt to ask a question, which Letty promptly answered in depth. There was no need for the woman to go into a marriage blind. Besides, she wasn’t the prettiest bride Letty had ever seen, but she intended for her to be the wisest. Tomorrow night, Fannie’s new husband was going to think he’d died and gone to heaven.
A short while later, Letty straightened up and mentally dusted her hands for the job she’d just done.
“And that’s about the best advice I can give,” Letty said.
Fannie’s mouth was gaping and her cheeks were flushed, but there was a glimmer in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She eyed Letty closely.
“And you’re sure Myron won’t think I’m too forward?”
It was all Letty could do not to laugh.
“Honey, I’m sure and then some. I promise you, if you do exactly what I suggested, your h
usband is never going to have a roving eye, and you’re going to be one happy bride.”
Fannie nodded briskly. “Then that’s that. I need to be sure, you know.”
“Why?” Letty asked.
“Well, because he owns the saloon. The women who work for him sell their bodies to men for money, you know.”
The smile died on Letty’s face.
“Yes, I know all about that kind of woman.”
Fannie frowned. “I don’t think we should judge them, you know.”
It was the last thing Letty expected to hear from a so-called decent woman.
“Why not?” Letty asked.
“I’ve thought about it some,” Fannie said. “And the way I see it, if it had been my father who’d died and not my mother, there’s no telling what would have happened to either one of us. Women don’t have it easy out here, you know, and we rarely have choices as to how our lives will be lived.”
Letty eyed Fannie with new respect.
“You’re entirely correct, Fannie dear. And you know what? I think you’re going to be, not only a wonderful wife, but an absolutely marvelous mother.”
Fannie beamed. “You do?”
Impulsively, Letty hugged her. “Yes, I do.” Then she remembered she stunk. “Sorry for the smell. I forgot,” she said briskly, and stood up. “So, you better get back to Mercer’s Mercantile and buy that piece of fabric you were looking at. It would make a fine veil.”
“Are you sure?” Fannie asked.
“As sure as I am about what I just told you,” Letty drawled.
Fannie pivoted sharply and started to walk away when she suddenly stopped and turned.
“Sister Murphy.”
“Yes?”
“Your husband must have been the happiest man on earth before he died.”
Letty’s heart did a funny little jerk as she thought about all the men who’d laid between her legs.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“You not only know the way to a man’s lustful natures, but I venture to guess you knew the way to your own man’s heart, as well. I’m so sorry that he’d passed, but he was a fortunate man during his time on earth.”
Letty couldn’t speak. There was no way she could acknowledge the blessing without lying, and she’d already been faced with Eulis’s fading faith in himself. It didn’t seem prudent to test God’s patience any further by adding pride to the lie.