Cadence

by Charlene Raddon

  "I look them right in the eye and dare them to say something," Alma said.

  Mae said nothing, head down, watching her shoes peek from under her hems as she walked. With a flash of insight she didn't know herself capable of, Cady realized Mae felt ashamed. They all did, despite their brave words. They had been the victims of a cruel fate, and so-called "good" folks who didn't know better or care punished them for it.

  Cady took Mae's hand. The girl glanced up and smiled.

  A sudden sense of guilt and regret filled Cady. In the past, she'd looked down on fallen doves the way most people did. She was only seventeen, but how lucky she'd been not to have to resort to what Leda, Alma and Mae had been forced to do. If she didn't find Regina soon, that might change, but she'd fight it to the end.

  Cady noted the railroad tracks following Moose Creek on the other side of the gully. She already knew the schedule and prices by heart. For the stagecoach as well, and she'd inquired about renting a horse. Information she'd need if she ever got enough money to run away.

  With the salon sitting at the north end of town and the mercantile on the south end, the long walk between offered her a chance to note details which might help someday, like which stores were open and which permanently closed. Unused buildings could offer temporary shelter.

  She'd considered asking for work at the Ridge Hotel, but Mortimer had threatened to make anyone who helped her suffer for it. He had powerful friends, the means and the knowledge to hit each business owner where it would hurt most.

  At the bakery, they chose a table toward the back. Being late afternoon, the place had little business, which suited Cady. A fortyish woman got up from a table at the back, nose in the air, and waltzed out the door. The three doves ignored her, but the tightening of their mouths and the darkening of their eyes gave away their pain. Cady wanted to tell the woman what she thought of her.

  "Hello." A waitress six or seven years their senior came to the table wearing a ruffled apron and a pleasant smile. "What can I get you ladies today?"

  Ladies? Did the woman truly see them that way? Cady wanted to ask but refrained. In truth, she wanted to hug the woman but that would embarrass everyone. Best to leave sleeping dogs lie, her papa used to say. Be grateful for what acceptance you receive.

  "Hello, Susannah. Do you have ice cream?" Leda asked. No wonder she hadn't been concerned about coming here. It wasn't her first time, and she'd known what to expect.

  Cady had been afraid to enter any of the businesses in town, expecting them to assume she worked at the salon as a dove. She couldn't very well walk in and say, Hello, I'm not a whore. Please don't reject me.

  "I'm afraid not," Susannah said. "But I plan to get an ice cream maker when summer comes. Not many people want something that cold this time of year."

  "I adore ice cream," Alma said, covering her mouth with her hanky, as she studied the menu on the wall. "What kind of pie do you have?

  "Cherry, apple, chocolate and lemon meringue."

  "Oh, I'll have a piece of the chocolate, please."

  Cady fingered the silver dollar in her skirt pocket. It would be selfish to spend money on confections she didn't need instead of saving it to help find Regina.

  The waitress cleared her throat, awaiting her order.

  "What drinks do you have?" Cady asked.

  "Coffee, tea, hot chocolate and sarsaparilla."

  "How much is the hot chocolate?"

  "Fifteen cents."

  Wow. That seemed extravagant. "And the tea?"

  "Free if ordered with food. A nickel without."

  "I'll have tea, please. By itself." Cady paused, drawing something from her bag. "Could I ask you a question?"

  "Certainly."

  Cady held up a folded drawing. "Have you seen this little girl?"

  "No, I'm afraid not. Are you related? I see a resemblance."

  "Is that your sister, Cady?" Mae asked. "Let me see. You never showed us a picture."

  "Cady, did you draw this?" Leda asked. "It's good."

  They all fussed about how adorable Regina was and how well Cady could draw but offered nothing helpful. She thanked them and put the picture away.

  Leda ordered a cream-filled pastry, Mae the lemon meringue pie, and the woman left to fill their orders.

  "How much do you suppose she gets paid?" Alma asked in a wistful tone.

  "You probably make more than she does," Leda said.

  "Yes, but her work would be infinitely more pleasant."

  "Let's not talk about work," Cady suggested. "We're here to enjoy ourselves."

  "How do you expect to have any fun if you don't order anything but tea?" Leda asked.

  "I need to save my money."

  "So you can find your sister?" Alma asked.

  "Yes. And to be able to afford to feed her when I get her back."

  The waitress brought Cady her tea and left again.

  "Where is she?" Leda asked. "You said she was five, didn't you? I have one who's thirteen. I wonder if I'll ever see her again. Hopefully, she won't be as stupid as me."

  "Yes, five." Cady sipped the water. "My mother suffered several miscarriages. Leda, you were thirteen when you… Well, when you started doing what you're doing?"

  "That's right. I would have done anything to get away from my father. That devil beat me almost every day. One night, he beat my mother so bad, I got his six-gun and shot him."

  "You shot him?" Cady cried.

  "Yes, but my aim was off. Only hit him in the arm. Then I ran. He came after me, yelling that he'd have me arrested. I climbed into a railroad car and never looked back."

  "How sad." Alma said then placed a hand on Cady's. "What separated you and your sister?"

  "Mortimer Crane." Cady stirred sugar into her tea. "Actually, that's not true. A friend from home… No, I can't call him a friend. Anyway, a man brought us west. Our folks had died of a fever, and he promised to marry me and provide us a home. The day after we arrived in Evanston, he vanished."

  Leda nodded. "And left you with the hotel bill, right?"

  "Yes. Mortimer offered me a job. He'd seemed so nice and I had no reason not to trust him. I expected to keep Regina with me, but once we arrived, he insisted a child had no business being in the salon. It was either let him board Regina with a family or wind up on the street again. I'd hoped to be able to bring her here by now, or at least visit her. He derailed that plan by keeping most of my pay—to save for me, he says—and refusing to tell me where she is."

  "That overstuffed, bug-eyed toad!" Leda cursed. "I so detest that man. When summer comes, I intend to get out of Wildcat Ridge and find a better place to work. Maybe in California."

  "You could go to the Velvet Kitten," Alma said. "I've talked to the madam there and she seems quite nice."

  Leda stared at her as if shocked. "If I'd known the place existed when old Moron brought me here, I might have. How'd you get a chance to talk to her?"

  "I saw her locking up the bordello one night, so I knew who she was. Later, I ran into her in the mercantile and spoke to her. I found her quite friendly."

  "Why didn't you go work for her?" Mae asked.

  Alma shrugged. "She didn't offer, and I don't see how working for her would be much better than where I am."

  "Ha!" Leda spat. "Any place that doesn't include Moron Crane would be better than the salon. Do you think she'd give me a job?"

  Alma shrugged.

  "Have any of you tried to get other work?" Cady asked.

  Leda let out a bitter laugh. "You must be joshing. If they figure out you've been living on the street, and they always do, they want nothing to do with you. I tried for work at every store and cafés in the town where I ended up. Twice, they literally threw me out."

  "Same here," Alma said. "My teacher made me stay after school one day and forced himself on me. When I found out he'd gotten me with child, my parents kicked me out, said they didn't want a whore in their house."

  "Oh, Alma, how awful." Cady pressed the
girl's hand. "Did you tell your parents what happened?"

  "They didn't believe me." She paused to cough. "Papa said no teacher would do such a thing, that I had whored myself."

  "What happened to the baby?"

  Alma averted her eyes but not before Cady saw moisture gather in them. "Three men cornered me in an alley a few months later. I fought them, but they beat me, punching me in the face and stomach until I passed out. I woke up in a puddle of blood. I'd lost the baby." A bad bout of coughing caused her to take out her syrup for another sip.

  "I'm so sorry, Alma. You've both been through horrible experiences. I'm ashamed to have ever felt sorry for myself."

  "Here comes the waitress," Mae whispered.

  "Hope you enjoy these." Susannah set the desserts on the table with silverware and napkins.

  They thanked her, and Leda cut into her pastry with her fork. Alma simply looked at her pie.

  "Susannah?" she called. "Could we have an extra fork, please?"

  The fork arrived promptly, and Alma handed it to Cady. "You can share my pie."

  "Oh, no." Cady pushed the fork away. "I couldn't do that, not unless you allow me to pay for half of it."

  "I owe you for mending my chemise the other day. Remember, I said I'd find a way to repay you?"

  Cady thought about that. She knew Alma merely felt bad eating in front of her. Even so, it would be rude to refuse a kindness. "Very well. I'll have one bite."

  She lifted the fork and scooped up a small piece. "Um," she breathed. "This is wonderful. I haven't had anything like it since my mother died."

  "Try mine," Mae urged, sliding her dish of lemon meringue closer.

  "Look!" Leda pointed to the window. "That must be the photographer who was at the salon when we left."

  The boxy wagon Cady had seen at the salon pulled up out front. On the side, a painted sign read Brant's Photography Studio. Garrick Brant, she remembered. He stepped down from the driver's seat, even more handsome today with his hair slightly disheveled by the wind.

  Mae dropped her fork and bent to retrieve it.

  "Oh, my," Leda breathed staring at the man.

  Cady agreed silently. She saw no sense in drooling over him. Such a man would never want her, despite his kindness that first day. She might not be a soiled dove, but she had been ruined, thanks to her own juvenile idiocy. And Randy Filcher.

  Even so, she enjoyed seeing him again. "He's generous too. He rescued me from some drunk men yesterday when Mortimer sent me for some of Garnet's liver and onions. While I waited for it, he insisted on buying me a bowl of potato soup."

  "Wow. Cady, you're so lucky." Alma almost drooled. "I bet he comes calling on you. Does he know where to find you?"

  "He knows, but I'm sure he won't be visiting."

  "Why not?"

  "Why would he?" Cady countered.

  Alma laughed. "Because you're pretty, and he must like you if he bought you a meal."

  "He was only being generous."

  "Nonsense. He is a tasty confection," Alma said, wearing a dreamy smile.

  Mae remained crouched down. Cady bent down to help her find the utensil and couldn't see it.

  Garrick Brant walked out of view, going either to the café next door or the Ridge Hotel beyond that.

  The girls had barely finished their treats when he reappeared with a small paper-wrapped bundle. The tiger-striped cat Cady had seen before jumped down from the driver's seat. Mr. Brant opened the package and laid it on the boardwalk for the cat to devour. Leftovers from the café, no doubt. While his pet ate, he glanced at the bakery window.

  Alma's breath caught in her throat, and someone gasped. Was it Mae? No, she'd found her fork but now had her head down searching for something in her drawstring bag.

  "I can't believe he keeps a cat," Alma said, stifling another cough. "That is so sweet."

  "Do you think he saw us?" Leda asked.

  Cady shrugged. "If he did, he wasn't impressed."

  They watched him climb aboard the wagon. The cat joined him on the driver's seat, and the two drove off toward Chestnut Road.

  Chapter Four

  "You whores settle down," Mortimer yelled as Leda and Alma giggled and whispered behind their hands. He had them lined up on the stairs in the parlor, each one a step lower than the other and dressed in their most seductive garments.

  Alma had recovered from her cough. The doctor diagnosed it as asthma, possibly caused by an allergy. He'd noticed an increase in such problems this time of year and had deduced that it might be due to pollen from the sagebrush blooming on the hill. He told her to stay indoors and breathe the smoke from burning nitre paper.

  "What we're about here concerns business, not your amusement," he said now. "This man came to photograph you for cabinet cards, and I intend to make sure you behave. Where's Mae?"

  The ashes from the cigar in his mouth fell onto the Aubusson rug at his feet, flickered and went out.

  "She's sick," Alma explained.

  "Damned girl. Probably caught your cough."

  From the reading room, Cady watched Garrick set up his equipment in the salon's parlor, glad she hadn't been asked to pose. He glanced around as if looking for something or someone. Not wanting Mortimer to know she'd met the photographer, she hurried to the supply room off the kitchen for her dusting supplies. She had other things on her mind—all the work ahead of her today and, as always, her sister Regina. She tried to think the way she imagined Mortimer would, to figure out where he might have taken the girl.

  His words seconds ago penetrated her thoughts. I intend to make sure you behave. That meant he planned to stay for the entire procedure. Lach had left minutes ago on an errand and Thumbs was off grooming his horse at the stable. Perhaps she'd have enough time to slip into his office and search for a clue to Regina's whereabouts, a ledger, receipt, anything.

  Leaving her supplies behind a chair, she hurried to the office and tried the door. Please don't let it be locked.

  It opened, and she ducked inside. With her heart pounding and sweat dampening her skin, she scoured drawers, files, everything that might offer information.

  Inside the middle drawer of his desk she found his checkbook and noticed a check written in a large amount each month with only the notation, R-Cranesville.

  Could the R stand for Regina?

  How long have I been in here? Better get out before I'm caught.

  She peeked out the door. Seeing no one, she escaped back to the reading room, grabbed her supplies and began work. Gradually, her pulse returned to normal, and she relaxed.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that Regina was in Cranesville. Cady had looked for her every time she'd slipped away from the salon and decided she wasn't in Wildcat Ridge. Cranesville, ten miles away, seemed more logical. It was his town after all, like Wildcat Ridge, and he went there often.

  The idea of Regina being so far away horrified her. How would she ever find her sister there?

  Mortimer had no friends or family in Wildcat Ridge she could question, only his men, thugs who looked like hired killers.

  Had he ordered Lach to kill Regina?

  Oh, dear Lord in heaven, please don't let it be so.

  He wouldn't… couldn't do that. It would be inhuman. She had to believe she would find her sister alive and well. Anything else would be unthinkable.

  As her work took her closer to the parlor, Mortimer's voice speaking to the girls came to her.

  "Do whatever Mr. Brant asks and cooperate in every way. The cabinet cards he'll use the photographs to create will be passed out as advertisements. This is important. No more giggling or acting up."

  Several titters followed. Mortimer mumbled a curse.

  Curious, Cady walked over to the wide, arched entrance and peeked around the corner. Mr. Brant directed Leda to stand in front of a canvas screen he'd set up with a vague mountain scene painted on the surface.

  "Forgive me for being familiar," he said to her. "I need to
arrange your pose."

  "It's all right," Leda said, watching him closely. "You can touch me any way you like."

  Alma snickered. Mortimer growled.

  Mr. Brant edged Leda around to stand at an angle to the camera. An image flashed through Cady's mind of him touching her that way, and she shivered. Don't be ridiculous and go to work.

  After completing her dusting in record time, she crept back to the parlor to watch for a minute before moving on to the anteroom and vestibule. Was Mae truly ill? She'd seemed fine at breakfast.

  "That girl?" Mortimer blurted in his loud blustering voice.

  Cady glanced up to see him pointing at her. Mr. Brant and the girls stared. Uncomfortable and unsure what to do, she froze.

  "Yes, I want to photograph her," Mr. Brant said.

  She met his gaze, wondering why he'd want to do that. The other girls were prettier.

  "What for?" Mortimer sputtered. "Cady's my maid. Why would I want a cleaning girl on an advertisement?"

  "Forgive me, Mr. Crane. Of course, you're right."

  Mr. Brant gave her one more look then turned back to the girls and continued his work. Cady hurried upstairs to Mae's room and knocked on the door.

  "Who is it?" Mae asked, cracking the door.

  "Cady."

  "Oh, do come in." Mae glanced up and down the hallway, then drew Cady inside. "I'm so glad you came. I'd hoped one of the girls would check on me, and not Mortimer the Moron."

  "What's wrong?" Cady asked. "Why aren't you downstairs with the others?"

  "I don't want my picture taken." She pulled Cady down onto the bed beside her, an odd urgency in her action. "What if someone from home saw an image of me with Gentlemen Only Salon on it? I don't want them to know what's become of me."

  "I can understand that. Stay here. I won't tell on you."

  "Thank you, Cady."

  "I'd better get back downstairs before Mortimer realizes I'm gone. Keep your door locked. I'll tell him you might be contagious. I've noticed he's terrified of catching a deadly disease."

  "Okay. Don't tell the other girls the truth. They might give me away."

  Cady promised and left the room, only to find Franco waiting in the corridor.