by Sadie Conall
Ella glanced at Marrok, aware for the first time that she was taking his room. Although he didn’t seem upset about it. He stepped up onto the porch, towering over the woman.
“I understand your concern Mrs Blackwood, but my plans changed at the last minute and now these two women will take the rooms I paid for. But I take it you’ve got supper ready as we agreed?”
The woman nodded. “I have. But you only paid for two, so if you want extra, that’ll cost you. I’m not in this game for charity or taking care of strays.”
“I’ll be eating elsewhere, so supper is for two, as agreed and paid for.” He paused and hoped like hell that what he asked for next was not impossible. “These women will also need those two rooms for another five nights, as well as breakfast and supper. They’ll pay for half of it now and half when they leave.”
Mrs Blackwood stared at him and Marrok could see her mind ticking over, wondering how she could make more money on this.
And although Willard would be paying the extra nights for Martha, Marrok knew he’d have to pay for Ella. He couldn’t ask her for more money. Not when he’d asked her to join them. Coming to St Louis had never been her idea.
“I got two older men who’ve booked those rooms. But they ain’t eating here. And I always prefer women staying in my house. They’re less trouble, and don’t leave behind a mess. So you better make it worth my while so it don’t cause me too much heartburn when I tell those gentlemen they’re going to be sleeping in my basement on cots.”
Marrok nodded. “I’ll make it worth your while. But we’ll discuss it tomorrow.” He nodded towards the bags he was carrying. “Shall I carry these up to their rooms? It’ll save you all the trouble.”
The woman nodded and handed him the keys. As they headed up the stairs to the top floor, Mrs Blackwood called out behind them. “Breakfast is at 7am sharp. I won’t keep it later. And lock the doors behind you for you never know who’s prowling around these days. St Louis got a whole bunch of trouble camped out on the edge of town.”
The rooms held a single bed in each, with a mattress of fresh straw, woolen blankets and cotton sheets. A pillow lay on each bed. Small nightstands held a candle and candlestick holder. Marrok placed the bags on one of the beds, leaving the women to choose which room they preferred.
“Don’t worry about getting to the livery in the morning. I’d rather you both stay here and think on what supplies you’ll need to take west so we can order them tomorrow. I can help Jasper and Homer unpack the wagon before Homer’s brother arrives to take a look at it, for sooner we get the wagon fitted out, sooner we can leave St Louis. So try and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be back mid-morning to sort out your rooms with Mrs Blackwood and go over what you need, before we head out to the mercantile stores and put in your orders.”
But as he turned to go, Ella stopped him. “This room, I can pay my way. It’s only fair.”
Marrok nodded. “We can talk about it in the morning.” Then he touched his hat, wished them a good night’s sleep then he was gone.
3
Marrok walked quickly along the main street, his moccasins silent on the wooden boardwalk as he headed back to the livery on the far side of town. It was full dark now yet the thought of rice and beans and trying to get some sleep were the last things on his mind. He felt restless, so he kept walking, his mind full of everything that Ella needed to get done.
He passed the alley where his favorite eating house was and thought about going in there for a meal. But then decided against it. He wasn’t hungry, for his stomach felt all churned up from the events of the past two days.
The sound of laughter along with pianos being played echoed out onto the street but Marrok ignored them all and walked on, past saloons and pool halls, and just when he went to step down and enter an alley which would take him back to the livery, he heard a woman singing.
It came from a saloon just down from where he stood, the sound of her voice husky and deep yet utterly feminine, a sound that dug deep and got to a man in places he didn’t want it to go.
Instinctively Marrok moved towards the sound, drawn to it, stepping back into the dusty street to cross over to the opposite boardwalk, for the woman was singing in one of the less reputable saloons in town which surprised him. With that voice, she could have named her price.
The saloon was crowded, with men standing out on the boardwalk looking through the open door to get a glimpse of her. Marrok joined them, stunned by the woman’s voice.
Only once before had he heard such talent and that was in a singing hall in New York many years ago. He had gone to the venue by mistake, thinking it a pool hall, but once he heard that woman sing he had never forgotten it.
He was tall enough to peer over the men who stood before him and through the open doors he saw a curvy girl in her early twenties standing in the centre of the room, singing a song he’d heard many times before, but never had he heard it sung like this. Her voice was full of emotion, tearing at your heartstrings.
She was about as tall as Ella, but perhaps a few years younger. Her complexion was flawless, framed by hair that was like a red-hot flame.
She came to the end of the song and bowed to the male audience as they clapped and cheered and when she turned and glanced across to the back of the saloon, Marrok saw her eyes were as grey as the slate found high in the mountains of the pacific northwest. And like every other man watching her, he was bewitched.
He expected her to speak in a voice from faraway-lands owned by the Celts, for her coloring came from those distant lands of marshy bogs and misty mountains, of ancient folk songs accompanied with bodhráns or bagpipes and men who fought with axe, pike or sword. But when she spoke to thank her audience, her accent was American, suggesting roots in one of the east coast cities of New York or Boston.
Marrok went to walk on but paused when he noticed two men standing at the back of the room nudging each other and smirking as they watched the girl. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, feeling unnerved by their attention of her, for it wasn’t admiration he saw in their faces, but cruelty. He paused for a moment, deciding whether sleep was more important than making sure the girl was safe, before he pushed through the crowd and stepped into the saloon.
4
Ella smelled of soap, but she had washed herself from head to foot from the bowl of hot soapy water supplied by the boarding house. When she crawled into bed, hoping there were no bedbugs, she held the crocheted blanket made by Martha and her mother close to her face, hoping to smell a lingering scent there of Adeline. But her mother’s smell had left long ago, yet the blanket did what Martha hoped it would. It gave Ella some comfort, for now she was alone without Marrok’s energy to push her along and she felt afraid and unsure of herself.
She wished she were tired, she wished she could just roll over and go to sleep and she wished she had more money. If she had more money, she’d have so many more choices. Like take a steamboat up to Independence, rather than have to walk her team all that way.
The light from a half moon took away the shadows in her room but still, Ella felt as though she were standing on the edge of an abyss, a great dark chasm of darkness below her yet a whole new life waiting just beyond. She just had to find a way to get across that chasm.
She understood from the conversation between Homer and Marrok earlier that she had no choice but pay more to get her wagon outfitted quickly, otherwise she’d have to stay behind in St Louis and do it without Marrok’s help. And that wasn’t an option for Ella, because she knew she couldn’t do it without his help. She was strong, but not strong enough to cope with such a huge thing on her own with only Jasper to back her up. And if her wagon took longer to fit out, if she went to the back of the queue, she faced the very real possibility of missing a wagon train altogether and having to wait in Independence another year.
She moved to sit up, feeling on edge, even as she went over everything again. And although he hadn’t said anything, Ella knew t
hat Marrok was also worried about her lack of funds.
And then a new thought came to her. Would he expect payment for all his help? If so, that made her money dwindle away even further.
She crawled across the bed and pushed aside the curtain to look out across the town, wondering where Milton was and if he’d managed to flee Chesterfield. But she didn’t want to think about him, for he hadn’t cared a damn about her. So Ella let her thoughts drift back to Marrok instead. She doubted he’d be asleep. Not a man like that. He would be out and about, watching and listening to what was happening in town before he went to his bed.
She thought of Jebediah calling Marrok a halfbreed. The tone of his voice had been derogatory, yet his comment meant nothing to Ella for she’d never met a halfbreed before. Anyway, she liked Marrok’s character well enough, for he’d been nothing but generous.
She sighed and reached up to open the window, allowing fresh air to enter the room along with the sounds of the town. And despite the late hour, the street below wasn’t quiet. Ella could hear men talking loudly in a saloon just across the street and from somewhere else came the high-pitched sound of a woman’s laughter. And in other saloons and restaurants further away came the sound of pianos being played.
Ella wondered if Martha were still awake. She hoped so, because she needed to talk. She crawled off the bed and moved across to the door before opening it carefully because one of the hinges squeaked, then hurried across the small landing to stand outside Martha’s door. But as she went to knock, Ella heard the sound of the older woman snoring from behind the door.
She returned to her room and crawled back on the bed, once again pushing aside the curtain to look out on the street. And suddenly she wanted more than anything to be outside, to be walking those streets, exploring this town she would never revisit.
But she couldn’t, because she was female. It was so unfair. She put her arms on the window sill and thought of the unfairness of it all, of a world governed by men who declared all respectable women should be indoors come nightfall unless they were escorted out by a man. Ella wondered what men would say if women were to govern that men must be indoors come nightfall, safe and sound, so women could go out and enjoy all the delights that St Louis had to offer, alone if they wished, without judgment or harassment.
She laughed at the thought and feeling empowered by it, she climbed off the bed and went to her bags. She rummaged through her clothes until she found what she was looking for. A pair of work pants she had sometimes worn while out riding Bear around the ranch. They were old now, but she had packed them away in case she needed them on the trail.
She thought on what she was doing for just a moment before throwing off her chemise and pulling on the pants, followed by an old shirt of her fathers, which she tucked tight into her pants. The shirt made her look big, but at least the curve of her hips and breasts were hidden. Then she tied her hair up under the wide brimmed hat she had always worn when out riding, before standing back to look down on herself. She just might be able to pull it off. She was tall enough. And slim enough. Although the curve of her hips might give her away so she reached for the only other piece of clothing she had brought with her that had once belonged to her father. It was an old jacket, the one he had always worn when going to Church, or into Chesterfield, or to a neighbor’s wedding or county dance.
In her bare feet she practiced striding out like a boy. It was difficult, and she concentrated hard on not swinging her hips, the usual gait of a woman. She laughed at how ridiculous she felt and went to take the jacket off when she saw her father’s small pistol lying in her case. Ella paused for only a moment then shrugged the jacket back on before picking up the pistol and putting it in the pocket of the jacket. It wasn’t loaded, but if she needed it, it would make a good weapon to intimidate or threaten. Then she opened her bedroom door and crept out into the hall, holding her boots in her hands so she didn’t wake Martha before making her way down the stairs.
*
The sounds of the town erupted around Ella once she left the quiet of the boarding house. She walked quickly, keeping to the shadows and away from the light which spilled out onto the boardwalk from saloons and restaurants. She followed the sounds of pianos and harmonicas and the men and women laughing. She peered through saloon doors, looked into restaurants, nodded back when men nodded to her and Ella felt alive being out here among it all and as she walked on, she was delighted when no-one gave her a second glance, although she made sure her hat was pulled low over her face.
Through the windows of fancy French restaurants she saw the white linen tablecloths, the crystal glasses and expansive china and the women in their glorious dresses with their hair done up in elaborate curls sitting opposite men who had the money to pay for whatever they wanted. Ella couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be such a woman.
When a group of men came around a corner further up town, talking loudly, making their way towards her, Ella ducked down an alleyway and waited for them to pass. Then she walked on, passing couples walking arm in arm or small groups of men. And none of them bothered her or looked back.
She sauntered all the way to the far end of town, enjoying herself, when she saw a crowd of men gathered outside a saloon half a block away. Ella wondered what held their interest and hurried across to see for herself. She had barely reached them when she heard a woman sing, her voice so pure, with such perfect pitch, Ella wondered why more people hadn’t gathered to listen.
She wanted to get closer, to see who this girl was, yet there were too many men standing outside on the boardwalk. And then she saw another alley which ran between a ladies’ refreshment saloon and a general store, both closed for the night, their service alleys dark and empty. If she dared, she could cut down one of the alleys and walk around the back of the buildings and reach the saloon on the other side. She decided to go for it, not stopping to think that such places held danger.
She reached the alley without incident then stepped off the boardwalk and into the shadows, putting her hand out to touch the side of the ladies’ refreshment saloon to guide her and only when she reached the end of the alley did she feel afraid, for it was almost pitch black down there. Moving quickly, she came around the back of the building and suddenly the light from the saloon where the woman was singing blazed the way ahead. Ella hurried, swinging around into the alley which now ran the length of the saloon. She passed empty crates and wooden boxes then saw a set of stairs on the outside of the building which led to rooms above the saloon. And then she saw a ground floor window.
Ella dragged one of the crates forward, pulled herself up onto it, pushed aside the leaves of the vine which covered this side of the building and looked through the window. The panes of glass were dirty with years of dust and grease so using the corner of her father’s jacket, Ella wiped a small portion of the glass. And as the dirt and grime came away, she saw a girl a bit younger than herself standing in the middle of the room, surrounded of men, her head slightly back and her eyes closed as she came to the end of a song.
Ella gaped at the girl’s beauty, although it was her voice that held her enthralled, just like the men around her. Deep and husky, full of longing and anguish, Ella had never before heard a voice like it.
“One more,” a man cried, followed by others clapping and cheering her on. The singer laughed then nodded, holding up one finger, teasing her audience with the promise of one more song. Ella listened spellbound as the girl began a well-known song of love and loss and as she came to the end of it, Ella glanced around the room.
She was stunned when she saw Marrok leaning against the bar, transfixed as every other man as he watched the girl. And that look of yearning on his face made Ella feel incredibly stupid, standing there on a crate in a darkened alley. Because by comparison to that girl, Ella was just a simple girl off a ranch who wore plain homespun dresses and practical boots. Girls like Ella didn’t belong out here in the night. Only beautiful women like that girl owned the n
ight.
The euphoria of being out here alone was gone and Ella felt a sudden desperate need to get back to her small rented bedroom, to get out of her worn farm clothes and forget about tonight. Yet as she went to climb down off the crate, she heard men clapping and cheering as the singer thanked them for coming to hear her sing and Ella couldn’t help but peer back through the window. She saw the girl head towards the stage while Marrok remained where he was, standing alone at the bar, although strangely, Ella noticed the liquor in his glass seemed untouched.
She climbed down off the crate and made a move towards the street, when a dozen or more men spilled out of the saloon. One of them slipped into the alley to urinate and Ella quickly pushed herself back under the stairs and into the vine, waiting for him to finish before he moved away with his friends. And then at last the crowd was gone, moving on to other saloons or gaming houses or to return to their homes.
Ella took a step forward, trying to find that same confidence she’d felt when she left the boarding house but only managing to feel foolish, when a man suddenly burst into the alley from the street, running fast.
The stairs still concealed Ella’s hiding place and the man ran on past her, yet he was close enough for her to smell the stench of his unwashed body and clothes, along with the reek of tobacco and whisky. And then she heard the thud of a door opening followed by a girl’s cry of pain and two men swearing.
Startled, Ella stepped out of her hiding place, not sure what was going on when she turned and walked straight into the arms of another man. Their bodies collided and as her hands smacked up against the solid hardness of his chest, as he reached out to grab her arms in a vice like grip, Ella lost her balance and fell against him, the force of the impact knocking her hat off and allowing her hair to fall loose about her face.