The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4)

by Vikki Kestell

  The women of the club, exhausted from their night’s labor but awakened by the noisy entrance of the marshals, were beginning to mill about the hallways of the third floor. They were nervous and confused, until Rose spoke to them with Mei-Xing near her side.

  “My name is Rose Thoresen.” Rose spoke calmly and gently. “I’m sorry to have awakened you so abruptly, but we have some important news for you.” She took a deep breath and prayed for inspiration.

  Just then, from down the stairs, the sounds of a scuffle reached them. All of them could clearly hear Roxanne’s shrieking curses as her distress gave way to rage and resistance. The women in the hallway became more agitated, one sobbing noisily. Rose looked around as two more women—girls, really—peeped from doorways along the hall.

  Rose raised her voice a little more to be heard over the commotion. “As I said, we have some important news for you. Good news! But why don’t we do this? Why don’t you ladies take a moment to dress? Please join me downstairs in the, er, parlor, as soon as you are able.”

  The women stared at Rose and began to whisper among themselves. One of them pointed at Mei-Xing.

  “Yes, it is I, Mei-Xing,” the tiny Chinese girl with almond-shaped eyes said softly. “Little Plum Blossom. Please dress and come downstairs. We have something . . . wonderful to tell you.”

  Rose asked the women, “Ten minutes?”

  A tall brunette spoke to the other women. “Let’s go, girls. Dress quickly so we can hear what she has to say.”

  By the time the women had assembled downstairs, the marshals had gone, taking the house guards and Roxanne Cleary with them. The marshals were going directly from the club to the second house, a somewhat less discriminating, less exotic, but still quite “exclusive” brothel, to arrest the guards they found there. Arnie and David accompanied them, promising to ask the women they found there to dress and come to the club and meet with Rose.

  When Rose stood to address her audience, perhaps 15 sets of eyes stared back at her silently, some with anxiety, some with guarded hostility. What they saw was a slight, older woman with ash blonde hair lightly streaked with gray. Her face held a sweetly composed mouth and two steady, gray eyes.

  As Rose looked back at them, she found it difficult, in her mind, to call the girls women. They were all so young! She had to remind herself that, while these girls were young in years, what they had endured had to have aged them years beyond counting. The women assembled in the great room of the house finally quieted and waited for Rose to speak.

  Dear Lord, please help me. Help me to say just the right thing to speak hope into their hearts, Rose prayed silently.

  “Ladies, in case you did not hear me introduce myself, my name is Rose Thoresen. Some of you already know Miss Li.” Rose opened her hand gracefully in Mei-Xing’s direction. Mei-Xing acknowledged the introduction self-consciously but then sat up straighter and frankly met the questioning eyes from around the room.

  “I would also like you to meet our dear friend, Miss Byrne,” Rose nodded at Breona who stood against the wall, her arms tightly crossed, warily observing from outside the circle of chairs.

  Rose continued. “My daughter, Joy Thoresen Michaels, owns Corinth Mountain Lodge, near the train siding on the edge of town.” Several heads nodded and eyes turned again toward Mei-Xing. Apparently they knew of the lodge, had heard rumors concerning Mei-Xing’s escape and disappearance.

  “Yes. Mei-Xing came to us when she escaped several months ago now. We have kept her hidden in the lodge all this time.” Rose took a deep breath. “Last night, Mr. Banner and his men burned the lodge.”

  Gasps sounded around the room and fearful eyes darted toward the doors. Rose raised her hands in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. “We are grateful to the Lord that no one was hurt in the fire. All of us escaped from the lodge without injury.”

  The eyes in the room fixed on Rose again. “But we told you that we had good news.” Rose tried to smile, but she couldn’t. The moment was too charged, her news too momentous.

  Through trembling lips she said, “What we would like you to know is that, just over two hours ago, federal marshals took Mr. Banner and all his men—Darrow, too—into custody.”

  She looked around, making eye contact with each woman. “They have also removed Miss Cleary and the guards from this house. Most important, they have arrested Mr. Morgan, the owner of this house and its neighbor just to our east.” She nodded in the general direction of the second brothel.

  In the silence of the room, Rose drew another deep breath. “We came here to tell you that you are—all of you—free.”

  The eyes staring at Rose blinked, and she could see the uncertainty, the questions, as her words sank in. The tall, dark-haired woman who had spoken upstairs, voice shaking now, asked, “Do you mean we can leave? No one will stop us? No one will come after us and chase us down?”

  Rose nodded. She did not trust herself to speak and had to bite her bottom lip. Around the room, the silence was only interrupted by sniffling and then sobs as each woman opened her heart to the possibilities before her.

  By noon Rose had informally met with each of the nine women from the club, including little Gretl Plüff, the club’s cook, while Breona and Mei-Xing were arranging individual meetings in the afternoon with the girls of the second house.

  The questions she heard again and again were, “Are you sure they are in jail? Are we really safe?” and, the more difficult question, “What will we do now?”

  Arnie and David Kalbørg returned to the house and stayed close by, reassuring the women that they had witnessed the marshals take away Morgan, Roxanne, Banner, and all his men in handcuffs, loading them on the train to Denver.

  Repeatedly Rose reassured every girl that she was safe. Individually and in knots of two or three Rose explained that each of them was free to go home, if she had a home, or free to go wherever she liked. They would help them travel to where they decided to go.

  She saw the indecision and fear writ plainly on each face. Could they go home? Was there a place for them back home after . . . this?

  Of course, some of them admitted they had no homes to return to. That was when Rose began to talk about the lodge and the vision that had inspired Joy to buy it, a vision of helping young women—in the same situation they found themselves—to learn honest skills to support themselves.

  “But you said the lodge burnt down last night,” a plump girl of about 16 years reminded Rose.

  “Yes,” Rose responded, still dazed by the certainty of her words. “Banner and his men burned it. It is gone, but we were already making plans to buy a house in Denver and begin our work in earnest. Denver, being a large city, has more opportunities for good employment.” A few more of the young women gathered near as Rose explained.

  It was nearly four-thirty in the afternoon, and Rose’s voice was failing her. That was when Breona had insisted Arnie take Rose away to eat and rest.

  Mei-Xing and Breona looked at each other then. Breona squared her shoulders and called to the women still milling in the great room. “Aye, so ’tis bein’ up t’ us now t’ be makin’ some plans for th’ evenin’, I’m thinkin’.”

  The women looked to her, clearly accustomed to being told what to do. Curbing her natural tendency to take charge, Breona put forward a few suggestions about dinner and sleeping arrangements for herself and Mei-Xing. Soon the girls were offering suggestions and, by consensus, making some simple decisions.

  “Well, I am going bake pies.” Gretl announced abruptly and overly loud. “Lots of pies!” she added defiantly.

  All eyes turned to her and she blushed. “Miss Cleary never let us eat pie,” she explained, breathing hard. “Nor cakes nor tarts nor cookies! I had to make every sort of tempting treat for the club members,” she sneered those words, “but we were never allowed to eat them ourselves!”

  Suddenly all the girls were clamoring for desserts, excited at the prospect of exercising their freedom.

  B
reona grinned, her black eyes snapping in delight. “Miss Gretl, I be fancyin’ a fat slice o’ cherry pie, me sel’!”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Let us be bakin’ pies!”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 3

  (Journal Entry, April 25, 1909)

  Dear Lord, as I arose this morning I felt led to chronicle this new endeavor upon which we have embarked. I confess though, that as this new day begins, I also need to pour out my heart to you.

  We have been so pressed in the past 48 hours. It was not until this morning I realized what I had lost in the fire: The only likenesses of Jan I possessed and the few photographs I owned of Joy as a baby and as she grew up. All of them burned in the lodge with everything else. Oh, Lord! Grief, heavy as a great rock, struck my heart at this realization.

  So I pick up pen and ink and pour my sorrow onto this page. Father, please help me to bear the loss. I recall with gratitude that Søren and Meg still have a few photographs of Jan and one in particular of Søren and Joy together when she was a toddler. Thank you, Lord, for reminding me. I will ask them to have reproductions made for me, no matter how costly.

  I must also acknowledge a great truth, if only to you. I acknowledge that had I been given a choice between keeping my precious mementoes or gaining the freedom of these even more valuable treasures—I speak of these young women, Lord!—I must have chosen these women.

  For on those whom you have poured your Son’s lifeblood, you have also placed the most value. Can any earthly treasures be worth more? No, Lord, they cannot.

  So I commit today, Lord, to honor these young women with the care I would have given my precious photographs. Strengthen me to care with all my heart, I pray, Lord God!

  —

  Edmund O’Dell had spent an uncomfortable night in a run-down Corinth hostel. It was the only place in town to board, now that the lodge was gone. The mattress had been lumpy, the pillow thin and threadbare, the bedbugs plenty. He rubbed his neck where the muscles were knotted still.

  As much as he’d wanted to leave by yesterday’s afternoon train, his plans had been thwarted. First, Groman, his superior at the moment, had insisted that he remain in Corinth the entire day.

  “We may need your direction in this case, and I don’t want to have to track you down. Besides, Gretl Plüff, having been in Corinth the longest, is our best lead to other kidnapped girls who may have been here. If they were moved elsewhere, I want you to find them.”

  But Gretl Plüff had put him off, quite firmly, telling him that she was “otherwise engaged” for the day “so’s I can hear all what Miss Rose has to say and be cooking good hot meals for the girls,” she’d said, adding, “I’m plannin’ to go with her and Miss Joy soon as they buys a house down mountain in Denver City. You and I can talk tomorrow.”

  She had shut the door in his face, and with the sound of the latch his plan to leave later in the day was soundly scotched!

  Mrs. Thoresen and her daughter have the knack of engendering that kind of loyalty, O’Dell reflected with a snarl and tried again to un-kink his neck. Just look what it did to me!

  He frowned and pounded on the front door of the house. He’d dallied about until he felt he could call on the girl the next day. It was now half-past seven in the morning, and he was determined to be on the morning train.

  He was mildly nonplussed when Breona opened the door for him. “Good morn, Mr. O’Dell, sir!” She was in good spirits and pleased to see him.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Byrne,” he grinned, glad in spite of his sour mood to see her looking rosy and well. “I’ve come to interview Gretl Plüff. Is she about?”

  Breona answered with a sardonic snort. “’Tis still abed these girls air, Mr. O’Dell, sir. ’Twas loik t’ herdin’ cats las’ eve’n t’ be getting’ ’em t’ bed! Why, they’s days ’n’ nights be so mixed, come bedtime, you’d hev thought th’ cock be a-crowin’! Could hardly catch a wink, what with th’ goin’s on mos’ th’ night!”

  She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Miss Rose is sayin’ we’ll be gettin’ th’m up a wee bit earlier each day an’ t’ bed a wee bit earlier each night, s’ as t’ put th’m right again!”

  O’Dell frowned. “When do you think Miss Plüff will be up?”

  Breona shrugged. “Sure an’ Miss Rose is jist arrived. Would ye come t’ th’ kitchen an’ be havin’ a cup? An’ a great slice o’ pie, too, if’n ye hev an appetite!”

  O’Dell didn’t want to go to the kitchen to “be havin’ a cup” or a slice of pie! It meant seeing some of the people he had purposed to be quickly shut of. He shuffled his feet in indecision but found himself being pulled into the house and down a long hall to where he presumed the kitchen would be found.

  He sighed and drew out his watch along the way. He would miss his train—again.

  Sure enough, Rose and Mei-Xing were seated at a kitchen table talking quietly, their hands wrapped about cups of coffee.

  “Mr. O’Dell!” Rose’s happy greeting pricked him. He had hoped to slip away without goodbyes. Her pleasure at seeing him only made him feel even more of a cad.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Thoresen, Miss Li,” he replied stiffly. Breona had already placed a filled cup at the table for him, so he reluctantly seated himself.

  “We were just talking over the wonder of the past two days,” Rose explained. “Who would have thought that in one night, so much could have changed? Not just the arrest of Darrow and his men, but the return of my son-in-law, Grant Michaels!”

  Why, she is positively gushing, O’Dell observed with a sneer. Then she reached across the table and clasped his hand earnestly.

  “We have you to thank for Grant’s return, Mr. O’Dell.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “He told us how hard you have been looking for most of the past year, trying to find where he belonged. We are more grateful than we can possibly express.”

  O’Dell looked away in embarrassment and caught Mei-Xing watching him. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes were soft and compassionate.

  She knows, O’Dell thought, and swore under his breath. Of course she does. They probably all do.

  He sat back abruptly and assumed a more formal tone. “I would like to see Gretl Plüff as soon as possible. Would you kindly rouse her?”

  “I, well yes, I suppose I can,” Rose replied softly. She withdrew her hand. “Let me see what I can do. Mei-Xing, would you please help me? We should try to rouse all the girls. It will be a difficult transition, but we should begin today.”

  O’Dell finished his interview with Gretl and scanned the single name she had recognized. She knew of only one of the missing women he had tracked to Colorado.

  It is better than none, he admitted. She had, in addition, been able to suggest a house in Denver where she may have been taken.

  “Darrow and his men always talk big an’ loud,” she explained. “We girls listen good an’ try t’ warn each other when something bad is afoot.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want to go home? Your aunt and uncle have been looking for you for nearly two years.” He had been surprised when she had flatly turned down his offer of a train ticket.

  Gretl, a plump, soft girl, pleasant but perhaps not overly bright, looked away for a long moment. “No sir, don’t b’lieve I do. See, bein’ a whore changes you. I’m not like how they ’member me.”

  She gave O’Dell a penetrating look. “I’ll write ’em a nice letter, sir, but I b’lieve I’ll stay with Miss Rose and Miss Joy. They understand how it is. And I’m a good cook, y’ see. Miss Rose tells me that after a bit I can get a good job somewheres an’ take care of m’self. That’s probably better.”

  O’Dell saw the reality of Gretl’s choice in her honest eyes. She was, perhaps, brighter than he gave her credit for.

  At last O’Dell had completed his tasks in Corinth. “All right. Head down to Denver,” Groman ordered. “Take two of my men. I trust ’em. I know they aren’t part of Beau Bickle’s corrupt bunch. We don’t want to t
ake any chances that they would find out you’re coming.”

  “What about the law?” O’Dell asked.

  “You can find Marshal Pounder at this address.” Groman scribbled on a scrap of paper. “I ’spect he’ll go along with you or send a few of his men. Hates these whorehouses and what they do to young women, he does.”

  He pointed his finger at O’Dell. “You find that girl, O’Dell and wrap up these disappearances, and I’m guessing you can write your own ticket. Maybe McParland will even set you up to run the Denver office. God knows he needs someone honest to clean out that den o’ thieves.

  Not a chance, O’Dell thought wryly, but he nodded and kept that thought to himself.

  He had an hour to kill before the afternoon train, and found himself back where he’d been yesterday morning. He stared for several moments at the now-cold ashes of the lodge. Then he turned and sauntered down the winding trail to the overlook.

  So much had happened in the past 48 hours, so much gone forever. But the mountains, unchanging, full of inviolate splendor, beckoned to him. He stood with his hands deep in his pockets and stared. He would miss this daily feast of beauty.

  He didn’t know how long he’d stood there in solitude but eventually the sound of someone shuffling down the trail toward him broke through. He turned and raised his hand in greeting to Flinty. The old man, grizzled and worn looking, nodded back.

  “Saw ya walk down this a-way. Knowed ya got a ticket on th’ next train. Jest wanted t’ wish ya well.”

  O’Dell held out his hand and they shook. The experiences they shared in Corinth would bind them for life.

  “Guess yer gittin’ shut o’ this place, heh?” Flinty asked, probing gently.

  “Well, the job here is finished, but I have leads to follow down in Denver.” O’Dell did not rise to the bait.

  “Uh-huh.” He paused. “Kinder a miracle, what, Joy’s husband a-comin’ back from th’ dead an’ all.”