by Zina Abbott
“Still, I had no call.”
Val turned to her with a teasing voice. “No, you didn’t.” Then, growing more serious, he continued, “I want you to feel like you can trust me, that you are safe with me.”
“And why is that, Mr. Caldwell?”
“It’s Val. I like you, Mrs. Dodd. I want things to turn out well for you.”
Beth jerked her head toward him to study him, wondering what he actually thought. What she saw was a whimsical smile and admiring twinkle in his eye. Beth felt her eyes drawn to his like a magnet. She turned away quickly. These sensations she was experiencing while around him were new to her. She wasn’t sure if she liked them. She also wondered if he realized that no matter what she found, in the end things would not turn out truly well for her. She changed the subject.
“Where’d they come up with a name like Blue Feather? Got blue jays in these parts?”
“From what I hear, the madam always wears blue feathers in her hair. She goes by Flora. You’d think she’d be partial to flowers. But word is, blue feathers are her signature. Owns the place. The barkeep and muscle work for her, just like the girls do.”
Val turned away first as he pulled his rig to a halt just past the entrance of a building that looked like it had been cobbled together from lumber of varying ages and sizes cut from different varieties of trees. Beth guessed the building had been hastily thrown together with the understanding that, as part of a mining town that might go bust after the ore played out in a few years, it did not need to last forever.
Val climbed down, and hurried to Beth’s side to help her down. His hand tightened on her elbow until he was certain she wouldn’t lose her balance on the icy boardwalk. She responded by looking at him in wonder, unaccustomed as she was to a man extending this kind of courtesy toward her. She was torn over whether she should feel grateful or if she should resent it as another typical male assumption that as a female, she was weak and incapable of functioning without the assistance of a man.
“That don’t look like no meat order,” Beth observed as Val pulled a wooden crate out of the back and hefted it on his shoulder.
“Nope. Special order for Miss Flora. When I stopped by the butcher shop in Bridgeport, he directed me to the mercantile. Guess with the heavy snow we had a few days ago, the heavy freight hauler due here couldn’t get through. Either that, or the driver was still celebrating the new year and wasn’t up to making the trip.”
Beth turned away and ignored Val’s quip. She had ceased years ago to find allusions to drunken antics humorous.
Val cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, I was told Miss Flora was real anxious to receive this and she was willing to pay extra for someone to bring it up here before the next scheduled freight run.”
As Val held the door to the Blue Feather open for her, Beth took a deep breath before entering the dingy room thick with suffocating cigar and pipe smoke. Beth hesitated, unsure whether to seek out the madam who owned the place, or to approach the bartender like she usually did. She let her gaze sweep the room.
A few women dressed in flashy clothing no decent woman would be caught dead wearing out on the street were scattered among the men seated at the gaming tables or on one of the velvet settees or standing up to the bar. Other men, worn boots resting on the brass rail that hugged the bar a few inches off the floor, nursed drinks.
Until Beth walked in, the men had been playing cards or talking or staring into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. It did not take long for a few of them to notice her. Within seconds, the place grew quiet as almost every eye in the place turned to study her. The working girls that had been making a show of socializing and encouraging the men to buy more drinks offered her impatient looks, then turned their interests into recapturing the attention of their customers.
Beth didn’t see any of the girls sporting blue feathers.
The bartender quickly left his post behind the bar and walked over to join the two, his focus mostly on Beth.
“Sorry, sir, but this isn’t a hotel. You’ll probably want to take your wife a block over to the May Lundy Hotel or down the street to the Pioneer Boarding House if you plan to stay awhile.”
“We’re not looking for a room. We’re here on business,” Val said quickly before Beth could open her mouth. “If you have a private place where the lady can wait while I make this delivery to Flora, I’d appreciate it.”
“Certainly. She can wait in the kitchen. The girls are all working now, so no one will be in there.” Then turning to Beth, he asked, “May I get you a cup of tea while you wait, ma’am?”
Something hot to drink sounded wonderful to Beth. At her nod, the barkeeper motioned her to a doorway behind the far end of the bar.
“Maybe a bowl of soup or stew for her, too, if you’ve got it,” Val caught the man’s sleeve and pressed a coin into his hand.
Beth spun around and snapped, “Reckon I can order my own vittles, Mr. Caldwell.”
“On me, Mrs. Dodd. In consideration of you waiting for me to take care of my business. Please eat something for supper.”
“We’re just travelin’ together a spell. Don’t go gettin’ in the middle of my business none!”
Without a word, Beth turned back around, ignoring the snickers from the few men who had listened in on the exchange. The three had no more started toward the kitchen again when a door to a room at the back of the saloon opened. Out stepped a dark-haired woman dressed in a rich blue silk gown that left a sizable portion of her bosom exposed. She wore blue feathers in her hair. The effect heightened the startling blue of her eyes. Beth guessed her to be in her late thirties.
As soon as the woman’s eyes caught sight of Beth and Val, she glided toward them.
“Hey, cowboy,” she cooed as she reached him. Focusing on his face and ignoring Beth’s glare, she ran her hand once up and down the sleeve of his jacket. “We have some real nice girls here that will be happy to take care of you. You don’t have to bring in your own.”
“They’re here on business, Miss Flora,” the bartender said. “The man says he’s got a delivery for you. I was taking his companion to the kitchen for some tea and soup.”
“I believe this delivery is for you, ma’am,” said Val his earlier friendly tone swallowed up in one that was pure business.
“That it would be,” Flora said pleasantly. “Please, call me Miss Flora. You can follow me to my office.” She started to turn, but then she looked at the couple again, letting her eyes wander from Val to Beth and back. “Is this lovely lady your wife?”
“No, ma’am. This lady has business of her own here. I offered to escort her, to make sure she doesn’t run into any trouble.”
“Maybe she’s looking for work, Hal,” Flora said turning to the barkeep. Then, exuding warmth and welcome in her smile, Flora looked at Beth. “I happen to have an open room. You interested in being a working girl, honey?”
Beth shook her head as her eyes once again flickered to take in the women inside the saloon, settling on one who appeared to be about six or seven months pregnant. One of the men seated at a table had just pulled her into his lap and proceeded to run his hands along the sides of her bulging abdomen as he whispered something in her ear. The girl, probably not much more than twenty years of age, smiled weakly, enduring rather than enjoying the caress.
Flora craned her neck to follow Beth’s gaze. Then she turned back with a cryptic smile. “You’d be surprised, but there are men who prefer being with a pregnant woman. Lulu won’t be able to work much longer, though. That will make me even more short-handed. I’d love to have you as one of my girls if there’s any way I can interest you. You’d be working for me, not Hal.”
Beth noticed that Val tensed, but chose to not say anything. He watched her closely to see her response.
“Sorry, I ain’t interested,” Beth shook her head. It wasn’t the first time she has been offered work as a prostitute since coming out west, but it still unnerved her. “I’m lookin’ fo
r someone.”
“Aren’t we all, honey?” Flora replied with the cryptic smile that Beth was starting to recognize as being as much the woman’s signature as her blue feathers. “You’d have a lot to choose from here.”
“She’s not looking for work; she’s looking for her husband,” Val quickly interjected. “And, I’d like to get this load off my shoulder if you don’t mind. Now, if Hal could show the lady to the kitchen and give her the tea and the bowl of soup that’s paid for while I finish my delivery business with you, Miss Flora, I’d appreciate it.”
Flora studied Beth in a new light.
“All right. But it’s not good for my business to openly help abandoned wives chase down their wayward husbands. I hope you don’t make a habit of this.”
“I’m looking for Jim Dodd,” Beth spit out, annoyed. “Even when I find him, you don’t have to worry none about me always turnin’ up and you losin’ his business. My only concern is that he don’t skip out on the contract he done made with my pa.”
The look that passed between Flora and Hal was not lost on either Beth or Val.
Val put his free hand on the small of Beth’s back and nudged her toward the door to the kitchen. “I’ll join you in a moment, Mrs. Dodd. Hal?”
“This way, Mrs. Dodd.” A concerned Hal lead her to the kitchen. He motioned her to a chair by a small table shoved up against the back wall. He pulled a kettle from the rear of the stove and filled a cup.
“Miss Flora doesn’t like her girls tipsy when they’re working,” he continued conversationally as he slid the steaming cup in front of her and turned to dish up a bowl of soup. “They fill their glasses out front with cold tea. But, they always appreciate having it hot when they step back here for a break.”
Without comment, Beth opened her reticule and pulled out the half-eaten piece of hardtack she had saved from that morning. She dipped it in the hot tea to soften it and closed her eyes to savor the first nibble of the soggy edge. She had not planned on any additional food that night. No matter how hungry she felt, she resented Val deciding she should eat soup.
“I done saw what passed between you and Flora.” Beth looked up and addressed Hal. “You know something about my husband.”
Holding the bowl of soup, Hal straightened up, obviously uncomfortable.
“Quite frankly, ma’am, none of us knew Jim Dodd was married.”
“That don’t surprise me none. But now you know, I’d appreciate you tellin’ me where he’s stayin’.”
Hal looked at the door to the main room as if willing Flora to step through and take over. He turned back to Beth and heaved a sigh of resignation.
“Mrs. Dodd, I’m sorry to tell you that you just missed him. He’s gone.”
“Not again!” Beth groaned. She had felt so sure she had finally caught up to him. Beth closed her eyes and dropped her head on her arms folded across the tabletop. She barely avoided knocking over her cup of tea.
CHAPTER 4
Beth had no idea how long she sat slumped over before Val and Flora entered the small kitchen. As soon as she heard their footsteps, she sat up straight and blinked back the tears that threatened to form.
I refuse to cry. Done give that up over a year ago.
Flora took one look at Beth and turned to Hal who stood uncomfortably by the stove, still holding the bowl of soup.
“You tell her?” After Hal’s nod, Flora slid into the chair opposite Beth and reached over to rest her hand on Beth’s arm. “I’m real sorry, honey. I know this must be a blow to you after searching for him so long and all. Then again, from what I heard earlier, it didn’t sound like there was much love lost between you two.”
Beth eyed the woman warily, aware that Val had entered the room and stepped behind her. He leaned against the back wall, out of the way, but close enough to hear everything. Regardless of her opinion of Jim Dodd, she had learned through experience that there were those who liked her scoundrel of a husband and would turn on her if she spoke ill of him. She chose her words carefully.
“It wasn’t no marriage made in heaven for neither one of us, that’s certain. But, I still need to catch up with him. If you know where he lit off to, I’d consider it a kindness if you’d tell me.”
Flora looked up at Hal. “What exactly did you tell her?”
“That she just missed him and he’s gone. You knew him better than I did. I’ll leave the details to you and get back to the bar.”
The three watched Hal set the soup bowl in front of Beth and escape the small kitchen that had suddenly grown claustrophobic. Beth turned back to Flora.
“Where’s he up and gone to? I need to go there directly.”
Flora straightened up and rested her interlaced groomed fingers on the table. “He’s just a block or so over from here. I’m sorry, Mrs. Dodd. What Hal meant when he told you your husband is gone is....Well, I don’t know quite how to say it other than straight out. He’s dead.”
Beth sensed that Val had straightened up, but he remained silent. She stared at Flora, her mind in turmoil. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. First, she felt a sense of relief at being free of Jim Dodd. Next, she panicked as she realized that with her husband having used her dowry money to support his wastrel lifestyle, she was practically penniless with no way to provide for herself, let alone rescue Zelly. Anger took over as she fumed over the manner in which men assumed women were incapable of managing their own affairs which had gotten her into this fix in the first place. Her pa and Jim Dodd had signed a contract to provide for her for the rest of her life. Yet, after less than four years of marriage, they had both up and died on her, leaving her to her own devises.
“How’d it happen?” Val asked Flora, pulling Beth out of her dark thoughts.
“I think it was pneumonia. It’s a common malady with miners. They had quite an epidemic a couple of years ago down Bodie way. The county hospital in Bridgeport was packed for awhile there.”
“I remember that,” Val confirmed.
Flora continued, “From what I hear, they get in the warm, moist air in the mines, then come out in the cold, dry air in these high altitudes and the lungs can’t take it. My guess is the mining dust doesn’t help, either.”
“He pass here?” Beth asked. “Don’t worry none about sparin’ my feelin’s. I already figured he spent time with you. Was he with you when he went?”
“Not quite,” Flora offered a half-hearted version of her cryptic smile. “He was real sick when he came in here to welcome in the year 1884. He paid to come to my room, but was too bad off to...well...enjoy my company. I tried to take care of him, get him to take some soup and sleep, but he wasn’t real cooperative. He refused to accept that he was as bad off as he was. He refused to see Doc Guirado. I did what I could, but I still had a business to run.” Flora ended with a shrug of her shoulders.
“So he died here, in your room?” Beth thought it typical of the man.
“No. After a couple of days with me, he claimed he felt better. Said he had to get to his place next to China Charley’s to pay for his room or his landlord would claim his belongings. He’d already had quite a bit to drink before he left my room that night. I learned later that on his way out, he picked up another bottle from Hal. I guess he got tired on the way home and decided to take a nap. He never made it home.” Flora took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “It’s sad, but it happens. They found him behind my place the next morning, frozen stiff.”
“You said he’s about a block or so from here?” asked Val, breaking the silence that followed Flora’s story.
“At the morgue. I understand they had to thaw him out enough to straighten his body so he’d fit in a coffin.”
“Sounds like he’s been gone most of a week. He ain’t buried yet?”
Flora shook her head. “The ground is frozen solid. They won’t be able to get him buried until the spring thaw.”
“What about them dynamite sticks they use in the mines? Can’t they use them to blow holes open f
or buryin’.”
Flora barked a laugh. “Oh, no! Not with the avalanche danger. Why do think they close down the mines in the winter? One reason is that the vibration of working the mines triggers snow slides.”
“It’s true,” Val interjected. “They had a quite a few avalanches two years ago that buried half of this town. Collapsed a lot of buildings and killed something like four people. My brother and I came up for the last one to help Lundy dig out.”
“They won’t chance triggering an avalanche by blasting open gravesites,” Flora agreed. “Anyone who dies in winter waits until spring to get buried.”
That alone told Beth that she needed to find a way to stay in Lundy at least long enough for the funeral. No matter her opinion of the man, as his wife...his widow...getting him buried was her Christian duty.
“Anyone you know holdin’ his personal effects?” asked Beth. She hoped he might have owned something of value that would help her. “He got anything left of the money from my pa’s farm, or did it get all stole once word got out he died?”
Flora once again smiled. “I like you, Mrs. Dodd. Practical in the face of tragedy.”
More like desperate.
“You’re lucky it was one of my people who found him,” Flora continued. “We saw to it that anything of value Jim had on him was turned over to the justice of the peace for safe-keeping...after Hal took what was owed on his tab, of course.” Flora eyed Beth meaningfully. “I assure you we didn’t cheat him, Mrs. Dodd. My business does well. I don’t need to cheat my customers.”
“Which justice...Brakeman or McLean?” asked Val.
“Judge McLean.”
“He’s the butcher, Mrs. Dodd. I know him. I’ll let him know we need to see him at his office and arrange when I can bring you around to meet him.”
“I can tend to my own business, Mr. Caldwell,” Beth snapped.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you can. And I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I’m just being neighborly by offering to help you find your way around, you being new to Lundy and all.”