Arnie had remained in Corinth until Joy was on her way to recovery. He and Grant had spent a great deal of time together. Joy realized Grant had needed someone to talk to, a male friend and family member who had known him before, someone other than Joy who could reassure him as he attempted to stitch together the many blank places in his memories.
Grant. Joy’s heart soared each time she thought of him. Their reunion was sweet but tentative as they learned each other all over again. They spent hours talking, rehearsing their courtship, wedding, and married life. Grant knew nothing of those years but was gaining the particulars from their conversations.
Occasionally he would experience a moment of clarity, just as, that night in the plaza, he had recalled his own dog, Blackie, when he had picked up Joy’s puppy and Arnie had called out reminders to him. Those rare occurrences assured him that he was “home again,” home with Joy, her family, and their new mission.
When Joy had explained to Grant all the events leading her to Corinth and he fully understood the cruel depravity the girls had been subjected to, he embraced their endeavor with grim determination.
“Even with one arm, I’m strong and can do many things. I can run a business. I can serve customers. Whatever you need me to do, I will do it,” he’d vowed.
Now, more than six weeks after the climax of events in Corinth, it was time for them to push ahead with their plans. Blackie yawned, circled, and lay down again while Rose and Joy studied the list before them. Of the original 15 girls that the marshals had liberated from the two houses, nine remained.
Two girls, Dotty and Crystal, had contacted their families immediately and had left within days. Rose and Joy had not spoken of it much, but they both wondered how they were doing, wondered how difficult it was proving to be for the girls, ages 16 and 17, to reenter and adjust to their former lives. Wondered if they would find help for their wounded souls.
And then ten days ago, four more had unexpectedly announced their plan to open their own “house” in Denver.
“We are whores and good ones,” Esther, their self-appointed leader, proclaimed. “We’ll rent our own place, decorate it tastefully, and take care of each other. We intend to make excellent money and never allow abuse from our customers. No man will ever mistreat us again. No; this time, we’ll be in control.”
Esther was possibly the most beautiful woman either Rose or Joy had ever seen—they did not wonder why she had been “assigned” to the Corinth Gentlemen’s Club. She was slender and graceful with exquisite bone structure, creamy skin, and large, midnight blue eyes framed with thick, inky lashes. More than that, she possessed a fine mind and a charming, appealing way.
The girls had produced trunks they had already packed and politely demanded train tickets to Denver. “We thank you for helping us get shut of this place, but you promised you would give us tickets to wherever we wanted to go,” Esther stated matter-of-factly. “We have decided we don’t want to stay here. It’s not like we have families waiting for us with open arms. No, we’re going to make our own way.”
“You could wait and go to Denver with us when we buy our house there,” Rose offered again, silently chiding herself for sounding desperate. “We can train you to work and give you jobs or help you find positions. You don’t have to live like . . . that.”
“Like ‘that’?” Esther’s laugh was brittle. “You mean as ‘soiled doves’? Whores? The fact is, we are whores. ‘Once a whore, always a whore,’ like they say. Anyway, I’m not going to slave away waiting tables or sewing for wealthy society ladies for mere pennies a day.”
She tossed her lovely head and smiled that winsome, ‘come hither’ look she knew was to her advantage. “This is our golden opportunity. We’re young and well-trained, and we’re going to make a lot of money. And when I have money then I’ll do whatever I want.”
Joy’s mouth had dropped open at Esther’s defiant speech, and Rose had stared sadly. She wondered how they would finance their endeavor.
Later Breona, always the shrewd, observant one, pointed out that many of the costly knick-knacks around both houses had quietly disappeared as well as Roxanne’s jewelry. And Roxanne had been the only woman in the house to have had near-respectable street clothes. Those were gone, also.
Then the tall brunette, whom Rose and Joy now knew as Sarah, mentioned that someone had gone through her clothes and taken the best she had. “Only the best whoring garments,” she added wryly. “But it’s not as though I’d be wearing them again if I’m not going to be a ‘dove’ anymore.”
Sarah’s cynical smile went straight to Rose’s heart. She felt as though she spent every free moment praying for these young women—all of them. The burden she felt for them was barely short of crushing.
Lord, she grieved, I am so out of my depth. I don’t know how to help them. I cannot even relate to their lives! If you don’t lead and guide, we are lost. I trust you, Lord. I do! Please help me—help us—today.
Joy prayed in a similar but more practical manner, O Lord, please guide us to the house you have for us in Denver—and quickly. Help us to take these girls down the mountain, away from this place of nightmares, and begin the process of training them in work that will give them dignity and self-reliance. And Father God, Grant and I need to find and open our store . . . yesterday! She alternately planned and fretted over both undertakings.
Rose and Joy stared again at the list of names, six crossed off, nine remaining. At least three more girls would be leaving, going to distant relatives who had agreed to take them.
It had been difficult work. The three girls were very young—ages 14 and younger—without known parents and siblings. They were only vaguely acquainted with these far-away relatives. Nevertheless, all involved, including the girls, agreed that they would be better off going to their families and finishing school.
It had taken the exchange of several letters, letters from Pastor Kalbørg with enclosures from Rose and Joy, to explain in clear terms what their young niece, grandniece, or second cousin (as the relations turned out) had gone through, and then to receive assurances from their relations in return. Those assurances needed to express to David, Rose, and Joy’s satisfaction that the home each girl would be going to would be safe and nurturing.
When these three girls departed, the list would stand at six names. Six young women, ages 15 to 18, who had agreed to stay with them, move to Denver, and be trained to support themselves. Counting Tabitha, who was older than the others, the number was seven.
Joy looked at her mother. “Seven. Can we manage?”
“We will manage,” Rose replied firmly. “We must. I don’t know precisely how, but I am willing to place my confidence in the Lord to show us how.”
Emily Van der Pol and her small band of supporters were scouting the city below Corinth, looking for a house that would suit their needs. Rose would buy the house with her own money, and Emily’s group of women had pledged to match her contribution. The women’s group was making progress on their promise to help furnish the house and get the household on its feet.
In two days Rose and Joy would address them and other women they had invited to hear about the project. While Joy struggled to list the many practical aspects of their plans and what she would need to recount to the ladies, Rose prepared her heart to convey the great spiritual needs they would be addressing. Together, they prayed the Lord would move on compassionate hearts to help them.
—
Esther critically appraised the parlor of their new home and place of business. She and the girls had sold the most expensive knick-knacks and jewelry they had pilfered from the two houses in Corinth. The money they gained from the sales had been scarcely enough to rent this house and decorate it in the manner necessary.
But Esther was shrewd. Yes, she and her girls had sold nearly all they had, but not all. She had kept back a few select pieces, knowing that certain touches were essential to attracting and retaining the wealthy clients she desired.
She repositioned the ornate Ansonia mantle clock to display its floral porcelain box most effectively. Two small Tiffany lamps graced the end tables, their glow illuminating the brightly colored panes of glass.
They had papered the parlor themselves with expensive ivory watermarked damask. Their furniture was used but of excellent quality. She and Ava had spent hours mending flaws in the upholstery and disguising worn spots with cleverly placed antimacassars while Molly and Jess rubbed dark oil into the woods to cover scratches.
With the last of their monies, excepting a small emergency fund, they had purchased wine and liqueurs. Jess had secreted two empty liqueur decanters and a dozen crystal tumblers in one of Roxanne’s carpet bags when they left Corinth.
Esther chuckled. She, herself, had wrapped a heavy silver tea service in clothing and packed it at the bottom of her trunk. It now graced a prominent table in the corner of the parlor. A few other costly items—statuettes, ashtrays, lighters—added to the overall welcoming effect of the room.
And their calling cards. Esther had visited a printer and selected a fine quality stock. This morning she and the girls had dressed in Roxanne’s elegant street clothes, made over to fit themselves, of course. Bedecked in the finest day styles, their eyes discreetly shaded by plumed and veiled hats, they were indistinguishable from any other fashionable ladies on the street.
All day, two-by-two, they had casually traversed the streets of the upper-class red light district. When they encountered well-dressed gentlemen, they would politely hand them one of their cards and continue their walk. The cards read simply
Cultured Conversation
and Companionship
Monday–Saturday Evenings,
Eight O’clock
In discreet lettering across the bottom of each card was printed their address. Esther smiled. With luck, they would be receiving their first clients within the hour.
~~**~~
Chapter 6
Rose and Joy stood together before the sizable group of women gathered in the fellowship hall of a Denver church. The audience was comprised of obviously upper-class ladies. Elegant hats and spotless gloves bedecked the women seated in the hall, and Rose rejoiced for it.
Lord, do not think me crass in this observation, she prayed. But these women have the wherewithal to do much good for your Kingdom. I thank you in advance for their generosity.
Their dear friend Emily Van der Pol finished her introduction and nodded to Joy. Rose seated herself and waited her turn to speak.
Joy, her thick hair bound into a heavy braided chignon, smiled cordially and began, “Thank you for allowing us to speak before you today. For the last two months my mother and I have been living in what was one of the most notorious brothels in Colorado.” Her first words shocked their audience, but she had intended to do so. Even her mother shot her a nervous glance.
“I say it ‘was’ a notorious brothel. It no longer is. We and others have been ministering to the women there who, through brute force, were obliged to work in this brothel. The souls and needs of these young women, if they are to leave their past behind, are why we are here today.”
“Before we talk about their needs, I would like to recount how we came to be involved.” Joy, in her straightforward manner, walked the gathered women through the last year. She began with the challenging letter she had received from her cousin Uli describing the situation in Corinth and begging her to come and secretly help enslaved girls to escape.
She told of the ads that scheming, deceitful men—and women—placed in newspapers in eastern cities. Ads designed to lure unsuspecting young women to employment opportunities in Denver.
“These women would arrive in Denver expecting to be met by honest employers. Instead, they were taken against their will to the houses we speak of in Corinth. There they were drugged and had their innocence forcibly taken by debauched men. Afterwards, the young women would be beaten, starved, and,” Joy swallowed, “raped . . . repeatedly until they submitted to a life of prostitution.”
“I know Denver has its share of bordellos and streetwalkers. You must know the areas of town where these activities are conducted every night. However, the house we presently live in and its next door neighbor were especially evil. They pandered to men who paid high prices to take the innocence of girls—girls as young as 11 and 12. And they provided unwilling participants to men who demanded acts of cruelty and perversion I dare not speak of.”
The women in the room sat stunned. Some were openly weeping.
“Although I will not speak of them, my mother and I have heard these horrible acts described in detail. We have heard them from the mouths of young women as they cry out their pain on our shoulders and sob themselves to sleep under our praying hands. We, my mother and I, can scarcely bear to hear that of which these wounded hearts must unburden themselves.”
Joy held up a year-old newspaper from Boston. “May I read this advertisement to you?” she asked. Her audience stirred and some nodded. Joy read aloud,
Help Wanted: Young woman for light domestic work. Must be able to relocate, Denver, Colorado. Travel paid; good wage. Children allowed with prior approval. Send letter of inquiry to . . .
She left off reading and set the paper down. “This advertisement sounded like an answer to prayer to a young woman in Boston all alone in the world, a woman who only wanted a good job so that she could make her own way in the world. I know, because I met her while she was on her way to Denver.”
Joy recounted her train ride from RiverBend to Denver, and how she met two such girls, Breona and Marit, both traveling to new “jobs” in Denver.
“When we met, I showed them five different advertisements from five different newspapers. Then they showed me the advertisements they had answered. The advertisements were nearly identical.
When we arrived in Denver, hard, harsh men were waiting for these two girls. They were waiting to take them, not to honest jobs in Denver, but to one of the two brothels in Corinth of which I have spoken. It was a narrow escape.”
Not a sound in the room interrupted Joy. She then described buying an old house in Corinth and renovating it, naming it ‘Corinth Mountain Lodge.’
“We hoped that we would somehow be able to get word to the girls in the brothels and that they would be able to escape to us, one at a time. From there, we would pass them to others who could spirit them away.
“Breona, Marit, and I, along with two of my previous employees from Omaha, made that lodge beautiful and inviting. We hoped to support our efforts by attracting guests from Denver and beyond, guests who would appreciate the beauty of the mountains around Corinth.”
Joy smiled fondly at Emily Van der Pol. “And that is how we met our dear friend Emily. She came to spend the first week of this past December with us and fell in love with the lodge and its views, just as we had.” Joy paused and took a small sip of water.
“Then one night during her stay, we received our first escapee.”
Women sat forward on their chairs, spellbound, as Joy recounted Mei-Xing’s escape from the ‘Corinth Gentlemen’s Club.’ “Mei-Xing had been horribly abused. She had attempted to run away the night before and had been caught and punished.
“When she came to us she was beaten, broken, and violated in ways I cannot name. Instead of giving up, she used her last bit of strength to, even in her broken condition, attempt escape again.”
“Mrs. Van der Pol overheard the goings-on during the night as we ministered to Mei-Xing’s broken body and heart. It was the following day that Emily and I had a frank conversation about the horrible secret Corinth harbored.” Joy nodded to Emily. “And she confessed that God had placed the burden of helping us on her heart.”
“That is how we have come to you now to speak of the great needs we have.” Joy, feeling the power of the Holy Spirit in the room, pushed on. “Denver is a dark stronghold of vice. We are now preparing to move from Corinth to Denver. We are moving, first of all, because the men behind the evil in C
orinth burned our beautiful Corinth Mountain Lodge to the ground.
“And we say, so be it, Lord. We will not be deterred. We are moving to Denver, secondly, because the city offers opportunities for training and work for the seven women who live with us at this time. But we do not expect only these seven women.”
She looked around, meeting the eyes of many women in the room. “Yes, Corinth was a particularly vile stronghold, but that evil has now been stamped out. Those who perpetuated this evil are in jail, facing trial. Prostitution will not be able to raise its head in Corinth again. The people of Corinth, soundly chastised of the Lord, have pledged to never again allow such wickedness within their town.”
A smattering of applause interrupted Joy, and she smiled. “Yes, God has done something wondrous in Corinth. We are so grateful to him.”
She became serious again. “Denver, however, is rife with this evil. Once we are established and stable here, we hope to reach out and receive other women who wish to leave a life of prostitution.
“We must have a house that allows us to grow in this manner. A house, here in Denver, in a good neighborhood but not too far from honest work opportunities. This house must also not be so far from the area of town where prostitution is practiced that they cannot run to us.
“You know the area I speak of—Market Street and its surrounds. We must be near enough for those women who would flee to us for refuge. This house is our first need.
“After we find the house and make our move here, my husband and I will open a fine furnishings store. We own considerable inventory already, and we will take on two of the seven women we have as employees. We will train them and give them jobs. But that leaves five young women who will require employment.”
Joy stopped, nearly empty of words. “We covet your prayers, for it is not only honest work these women need. They have been damaged beyond description. Only the saving, restoring power of God can heal such damage.”
The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) Page 4