A Lady in Defiance (34 page)

Though these men had all gone in separate directions, the one
thing they had in common was the simple fact that they were happy to be alive.
On their departure, they had each thanked the girls profusely for the nursing
and wished them a Merry Christmas. Even the Pinkerton-agent-turned-marshal
Pender Beckwith had said a curt thank you as he limped out, arm in a sling,
headed off to a cabin given him by Mr. McIntyre. These men had left Naomi with
the sense that she had turned a corner with the citizens of Defiance.

In light of that, she couldn’t help but wonder if her
argument to
not
invite Mr. McIntyre for Christmas had been a mistake.
Because of Naomi’s passionate obstinance, everyone had acquiesced, though Ian
had said he would visit him for a spell. Besides, if the Flowers did come,
having Mr. McIntyre here would make it an awkward Christmas. Or so she had argued,
but Naomi wondered if she was still being a hypocrite.

Confused and waffling between anger and compassion, Naomi was
haunted by his last words to her in Daisy’s room. He had said he was sorry for
the kind of man he was. If he had been invited, would he have come? And if he
had, would the Flowers have also joined them? Had he kept them from coming or
were they just too uncomfortable to celebrate Christmas with the sisters?

Frustrated by her jumbled thoughts, Naomi let out a long sigh
and Daisy, sitting closest to her, touched her on the shoulder. “The Flowers
still might show. I told them anytime around−”

At exactly that moment, the front door opened slowly and
Lily, Iris, and Jasmine tentatively filed in to the lobby of the hotel.

Chapter
30

Daisy couldn’t believe the Flowers from the Iron Horse had
come for Christmas dinner. For an instant, everyone at the table was too
stunned to react. Then, in one accord, they jumped to their feet like a fire
brigade and all but ran to the women. They greeted them at the door with
handshakes and a flurry of “Thank you for coming,” “It’s so nice to see you,”
and “Merry Christmas.” Daisy gave them all hugs, evoking shocked looks from the
guests.

Then Ian, ever the gentleman, offered to take their coats.
Apprehensive glances fluttered among Lily, Iris and Jasmine. Reluctantly, Lily
slowly removed her cape and handed it to him. She was wearing a low-cut plum
dress, a bit tattered and faded, but Daisy knew it was the best−and most
modest−in her collection.

Seeing her embarrassment, Naomi responded a little too
eagerly. “That’s a lovely dress.”

Lily didn’t thank her for the compliment; she merely nodded.
That broke the tension at least and Iris and Jasmine then slid out of their
coats, handing them to Ian. Their dresses were no more modest but the perceived
judgment of their fashion choices had been removed.

“Rebecca...” Naomi pulled her sister away from the group.
“Why don’t you and I bus the table to make room for our guests?”

Rebecca called over her shoulder to the Flowers, “We’ll be
ready in just a moment.”

With their departure, the conversation lagged a bit in the
lobby as the girls took in their surroundings. Daisy garnered especially long,
studious looks. She stood there, beaming at them, feeling as though she could
walk on air. Fresh-faced and wearing a buttoned-up-to-her chin red plaid dress
courtesy of Hannah, she knew she bore very little resemblance to the battered
and bruised girl they had seen carried from the saloon. Nor was she the frail,
tortured soul Rose used to verbally abuse for sheer amuse¬ment. Daisy had been
re-born and knew her hope shined forth.

“You look, um...” Lily struggled for the right word, but
settled on, “well. Very well.”

“I am restored,” Daisy gushed, delighted that they had come.

A baby’s hungry cry from upstairs interrupted her and Hannah
apologized. “Oh, I’m sorry, there’s my little one and he’s looking for supper.
Please excuse me. We’ll be down as soon as we can.” She looked the girls over
and smiled warmly. “We really are glad that you’re here.” She left the group
and dashed up the stairs.

Ian excused himself as well. “Let me see what I can do help
clear the table. Pardon me, ladies.”

When he was out of earshot, Iris stepped closer to Daisy.
“Why do you want us here? We haven’t been nice to you or them.”

“We invited you because we all want you to see how different
your lives can be. You’re not trapped in the Iron Horse. I’ll help you. They’ll
help you.”

Lily looked highly skeptical of that statement. “Why would
they care about us?”

Daisy knew the question was easy to answer with her heart,
but more difficult to nail down with words. “Will you come and eat with us?
Enjoy the day then I’ll try to answer that.”

She seated the Flowers at the table, Ian pulling chairs out
for each of them as if they were eating at Delmonico’s in New York. Rebecca and
Naomi reheated the food and served everything as warm and fresh as possible.
They waited on the girls hand and foot, anticipating their needs and treating
them like royalty.

Once settled, the sisters joined them, delicately inquiring
about their histories, asking how long each girl had been in Defiance, where
their hometowns were, did they have family somewhere? Gradually, the
conversation thawed the icy atmosphere. When Hannah rejoined them with little
Billy, there were plenty of maternal oohs and aaahs, and Iris even asked if she
could hold him. The baby, dressed in a festive red velvet suit like a little
elf, liked her immediately. Smiling and cooing innocently, he delighted in
tangling his hands through those inviting strands of red curls. Iris held him
close, talking sweetly and indulgently.

Daisy watched the interaction between Flower and baby and was
amazed at this tender side of the ornery redhead. Iris studied the baby’s face
longingly, stroked his little pug nose, softly blew air in his face and watched
the startled but curious reaction. After a moment, the peaceful look on the
prostitute’s face changed to a more melancholy one. “Did Rose guess right? Is
this boy a bast−illegitimate?”

The question froze everyone like an arctic wind.

“Left me high and dry,” Hannah half-joked, her humor not
quite masking the pain. “Promised me the moon, then took off like a shot when I
gave him the news.” There was no bitterness in her voice, just the sound of
acceptance.

“That’s just like a man.” Lily stabbed her turkey a little
too hard and her fork clinked on her plate. “Do most of their thinkin’ with
everything but their brains.”

“Now ladies,” Ian held up his hands, surrendering to their
superior numbers, “in defense of my fellow twits, I must point out that we’re
no’ all like that.”

“Most of you are, though,” Jasmine argued in her stoic, Asian
way. “I will agree you are the most gentlemanly gentleman I have ever met, but
you, Mr. Donoghue, are the exception. Generally speaking, men are the same
brand the world over.”

“Aye, that may be true, but there are a few pearls amongst
the swine. Nothin’ says ye must choose the rule. Instead, find the exception.”

Daisy knew the unspoken thought that went through the
Flowers’ minds was that based on their profession, they could not expect
better. She begged to differ. “You asked me why we care about you. I’ll tell
you. We know a man who loves us for our souls, not our bodies. He is a king and
we are his daughters.  When I read how willing he was to forgive me and
then what he did to prove how much he loved me, it changed everything: the way
I saw myself, the way I saw the future, the way I wanted to live every day.
I’ll never go back to any place like the Iron Horse Saloon. I have the faith to
know I don’t have to.”

~~~

While his Flowers were, he was sure, having the gospel
preached to them, McIntyre passed the holiday engaged in business. Defiance was
going to change. For better or worse, it was going to change. To that end, he
had spent the day in his room writing several letters and telegrams to friends
and acquaintances. There was too much gold, too much timber, too much
opportunity for a man in search of a vision to not see the poten¬tial in Defiance.

While this had been his plan all along, now there was an
added sense of urgency to his goal. As he composed, he thought about the money
he stood to make, but he had now come to appreciate the legacy of it. He wanted
to build Defiance into a sophisticated, successful municipality and have his
name remembered with respect and dignity, especially by certain parties. 

Of course, this business plan meant the women and the whiskey
had to go. It would be a leap of faith. What if he failed and Defiance turned
out to be nothing but another dirty, seedy, mining eyesore? Or worse, a ghost
town?

It didn’t matter. He had a gift. He could lose everything
today, start over tomorrow and be rich again in less than a year.

While Ian becomes the beloved patriarch of three beautiful,
loving, tight-knit sisters,
he thought sourly.

Frustrated, he poured himself a shot of brandy and went to
his window. The snow was coming down at a lazy pace and Defiance looked like a
Courier and Ives Christmas card. He could see the inn at the end of town, the
windows casting a warm, amber glow on the empty street. Taking a sip, he
wondered what they were doing in there. Were all his Flowers going to come back
dressed in white with halos floating above their heads? Perhaps he should convert
the saloon into a church and keep the Flowers just to pass the collection
plate.

The thought made him smile wryly, but the truth was, shutting
it down would show the Denver and Rio Grande he was serious about taking the
town in a new direction. It would make her Highness happy as well. Not that he
cared. Besides, he doubted anything would get him back into her good graces.
That was most likely moral high ground he would never see.

More light spilled on to the street and he saw his girls walk
out of the inn and head up the boardwalk. They walked slowly, somberly, not as
if they were unhappy, but more like they were lost in thought. He could see
they were carrying items, gifts perhaps.

Gifts? Well, the little missionaries had thought of
everything.

To his surprise, when the girls entered the saloon, they came
straight to his room and delivered leftovers to him. “From the sisters.” Lily
held a lunch pail out to him. In her other arm, she clutched a small package.

He took the bucket and Iris and Jasmine set theirs down on
his desk. They hesitated, as if they wanted to say something, but apparently
couldn’t find their voice or nerves. After an awkward moment, they nodded to
him and left.

As Iris shut the door, she wished him a Merry Christmas.

 Something in the tone of her voice left him staring at
the closed door. She had sounded...well, sincere. McIntyre did not recall that
one of his girls had ever wished him so much as a happy birthday, much less
Merry Christmas. Just what had happened down at that hotel?

Curiosity getting the better of him, he set his drink down
and stole down the hallway to stand outside Iris’ room. As he had supposed, the
Flowers had gathered there. He heard the chink of glasses and the sloshing
sound of liquor being poured then bed springs creaking as Iris, most likely,
took her seat.

 “That was nice of them to give us those sachets,” she
observed. “They sure smell sweet.”

“I’ll tell you what smelled sweet…” McIntyre heard pure awe
in Lily’s voice. “That hotel. It smelled like my Mama’s house back in Ohio, all
filled up with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg and a Christmas tree.”

“I know, the Christmas tree was somethin’,” Iris agreed.

“The Chinese don’t celebrate Christmas.” That was Jasmine. “I
thought it was nice, though. Plea¬sant. We Asians pour so much formal ceremony
into everything.” 

“Daisy sure looked different. Makes you wonder...” Lily faded
off then added, “Oh, well, she never really belonged here anyway, but then,
maybe none of us do.”

 “Then why are we still here?” Iris asked sounding
irate.

“Because we have no place else to go.” Jasmine, as usual, was
the voice of jaded reality.

But Iris countered, “Maybe we do.”

“Do you think they meant it?” Lily asked. “That we could stay
there until...”

“Until what?” Jasmine sounded as if she was talking to
starry-eyed children deserving of pity. “We learn to cook or sew? Pick up some
new skill? Open a Chinese laundry?”

“It would be a start.” Iris must have shifted as the bed
springs squeaked again. “If we worked in a hotel or a kitchen, it would be a
way to distance ourselves from what we’re doing now.”

“And just what do you think Mr. McIntyre would do?” Jasmine
seemed to love playing the spoiler. “Smile and wave as we walk out the door?”

“Frankly, I don’t think he’d notice.” Lily observed casually.
“He aint’ been the same since the belles rolled into town. Somethins’ caught in
his craw about’em.”

“I think it is the middle one−Naomi,” Jasmine ventured,
sounding confident with her guess. “From what I gather, she looks down her nose
at him and I don’t think Mr. McIntyre likes it.”