A Lady in Defiance (35 page)

Iris giggled. “Maybe ‘cause he likes her.”

“I don’t know, could be I guess.” Lily agreed thoughtfully.
“He sure put tracks up Rose’s backside for messin’ with’em. And he has seemed
sort of bored with things here lately. Be just like a man to go sniffin’ after
a woman who wouldn’t give him the time of day...but she didn’t act like that
towards us and she must know we were the ones who put the gum in her hair.”

 “She did treat us well,” Iris agreed, sounding
surprised. “It was the first purely sociable meal I’ve had in years. They never
once treated us like sportin’ gals.”

“Maybe Daisy, uh−” Lily corrected the name, “I mean,
Mollie. Maybe Mollie is right about how we see ourselves. She kept tellin’ us
that Jesus sees us as daughters of the King. Maybe we count for more than we
think. Maybe we do matter to someone.”

 “Just because folks say our kind is trash doesn’t mean
it’s so,” Iris agreed. “There are a lot of losers in Defiance, who says we have
to be part of ‘em?

“If God thinks we’re beautiful,” Lily pondered, “maybe we
are?”

McIntyre took a step away from the door, deciding he had heard
enough. He wasn’t sure what he had learned, exactly, other than perhaps the
seeds of discontent and hope had been planted in the remaining Flowers’ hearts.
He wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow Naomi showed up at his door holding a
staff and yelling, “Let my people go!” He almost chuckled at the image but
didn’t because it was entirely possible.

Yearning for something to fill an unexpected sense of
loneliness−even emptiness−plaguing him, he decided a walk down the
snowy street might lift his mood. Change was coming to Defiance, he could feel
it. In the Christmas dusk, he sensed it.

She had asked him to choose a better life.

Kicking at snow as he ambled down the boardwalk, he wondered
what it would take to change that distant look in her eyes to something
better...to say, love? If he cleaned up the town, if he cleaned up his own
life, would that melt the ice in her heart? And when the time came, would she
weep for him at his funeral?

Chapter
31

During the first week of February, a mule train managed to
make it the rest of the way up from Animas City, the first in nearly five
weeks. The men from the mule train were the first official guests of the
Trinity Inn. It had taken them eight days to make the 50-mile trek from
Silverton. Averaging only about seven and-a-half miles a day in good weather
but deep snow, the effort had sucked the life out of them. The six men were
bone-tired, cold and hungry. Though the hotel was weeks away from opening,
there was not a chance the sisters would have turned them away.

As Hannah checked them in at the hotel desk, little Billy
wiggling on her hip, Naomi stood at the top of the stairs and watched the
party. She marveled over the human peculiarity of perseverance. Life in
Defiance was hard, the weather unforgiving and the people lawless. But this
place proved a person’s mettle. Everyone from gritty, weathered mountain men to
gentle, petite mothers like Hannah discovered an inner strength folks back in
Cary would never know. Naomi was astonished to realize she felt a little pride
over the hardy souls surviving here, herself included.

And without Mr. McIntyre, the town might not have been
settled at all. Perhaps he was the hardiest soul of all. He had certainly
proven one thing: he did not need the sisters or their food. The man hadn’t set
foot in the place since Naomi had raked him over the coals and she hadn’t seen
him since O’Banion’s funeral. Her suggestion that he look for a better life had
apparently fallen on deaf ears. Plainly, Mr. McIntyre didn’t need or want her
friendship.

Fine. Besides, according to Ian, he was working on something
important and that was filling his days. Whether he was truly busy and/or
avoiding her, so be it. That meant she didn’t have to worry about bumping into
him at the store or waiting on him in the restaurant. She didn’t need his
irreverent talk. She didn’t need to hear “your ladyship,” or “your highness.”
She certainly didn’t miss that arrogant grin of his. Naomi was just fine
without him. Absolutely, perfectly fine.

~~~

Hannah cooed and snuggled little Billy as she slowly
descended the stairs. She was making the turn on the landing when Lily, Jasmine
and Iris sauntered in for dinner. Dressed in feathers and finery, this was the
first time since Christmas that the Flowers had come by.

“Ladies, what a pleasant surprise.”

“We’re here to celebrate, Miss Hannah,” Iris told her
shrugging off her coat. Nodding at Hannah and the baby, the other girls
excitedly followed suit.

Readjusting Billy to her other hip, Hannah motioned toward
the dining area. “Well then, let me give you our finest table. I can’t wait to
hear your news…if you’ll be sharing it?”

Heads high, shoulders squared, the girls giggled and
sniggered and followed Hannah over to a table. The men at the surrounding
tables, including those from the mule train, stopped in midbite, holding forks
in the air as the girls strolled on by.

Naomi and Daisy acknowledged the Flowers with obvious delight
as they delivered food to the waiting, staring customers. “I’ll be right with
you girls,” Naomi told them, setting down food for some gentlemen.

Hannah stopped at the table closest to the kitchen and leaned
toward the group. “Do you girls mind if I join you for dinner? I need to feed
Billy.”

“Oh, do you mind if I do it?” Iris reached for the boy. “I
haven’t fed a baby in years.”

Hannah saw the quick flash of sadness in the woman’s face and
wondered about Iris’ past. “Of course. He just started on cereal so he’s pretty
messy, but I would appreciate the break.”

Finally, after several minutes of watching these surprising
patrons settle in, moon over the baby, and order their food, one man sitting
nearby attempted to investigate. Wiping catsup out of his beard, he leaned back
in his chair and surveyed the unusual party. “What’s the occasion, girls? Are
you settin’ up shop here at the inn?”

“Can we get better rates than at the Iron Horse?” another
asked laughing.

“The beds are softer here anyway,” a man from the mule train
chimed in, drawing a furious stare from Naomi.

“And all this time those belles have been slappin’ our hands
if we reached for the bread too fast.” The first man cut his eyes over to
Daisy. “I guess Defiance must’ve brought’em round to our way of thinkin’.”

Naomi, approaching the table with a tray of glasses and a
pitcher of tea, sucked in a breath to set the record straight, but Iris beat
her to it. “For your information, Harvey Cramer, you dirty, worthless, walking
clump of cow dung, we’re celebratin’ quittin’ the business altogether. Mr.
McIntyre’s closin’ the saloon.”

Harvey dropped his jaw and his fork, as did most of the men,
and Naomi looked like she almost dropped the tray she was carrying.

“You’re joking,” Hannah squeaked in shock.

Hands a little unsteady, Naomi placed the glasses and tea on
the Flowers’ table. “What brought all this about? Is Mr. McIntyre leaving
town?”

Hannah was struck by the expression on her sister’s face.
Naomi looked shocked, but there was something else there as well. Iris, still
holding Billy, took a swig of tea before explaining, “No. He said he is moving
past selling whiskey and women. He wants to be
respectable
.”

“And,” Jasmine stuck her nose in the air in mock snobbery,
“he’s making rich women of us.” Abruptly, she lowered her voice so only Hannah
and Naomi and the other girls at the table could hear. “He’s giving us
one
thousand
dollars to start over with.”

“He’s going to give Daisy, I mean Mollie, a thousand dollars,
too,” Iris added softly, sliding a spoonful of porridge into Little Billy’s
gaping mouth. “It’s almost like he’s turned over a new leaf. I wouldn’t have
believed if it hadn’t happened to me.”

Hannah had to fight back tears at the news. Crying with joy
was becoming a habit in Defiance. “Does Mollie know?” she asked awestruck.

“Nope.” Lily shook her head from side to side, looking
pleased with their secret. “We wanted to surprise her.”

Hannah looked up at Naomi and grinned. She wanted to say
something, but there were just no words to express her joy over this miracle.
And to think God had used her and her sisters in some small way to bring these
things about.

 Naomi grinned, too. “Mollie’s not your server, but I’ll
switch with her. Congratulations, girls.”

One thousand dollars?
Daisy blinked and said it out loud. “One thousand dollars?”

Lily quickly snatched a chair from the adjacent table just in
time to catch Daisy as she collapsed into it.

Every woman at the table pressed fingers to their lips and
heartily shushed her. “We do not think the entire town needs to know about
that,” Jasmine scolded.

Little Billy began to fuss and Hannah took him from Iris,
thanking her for feeding him. “He was so good for you.” She sat back down and
bounced him gently on her knee, trying to work a burp out of the child. “Do you
have plans, any of you? Do you know where you want to go?”

Dreamy expressions settled on the Flowers’ faces. “We are
going to stay until the first spring stage,” Jasmine explained, “but just to
serve and run the games. Then I am going to go to San Francisco. I think I will
buy a house and a business of some sort. I might even buy stock in the
railroad.”

Impressed nods greeted her apparently well-thought out plans.

“I used to could sew when I was about twelve or thereabouts,”
Iris volunteered. “I’d like to pick that up again and maybe open a nice, proper
dress shop, somewhere in Texas. It’s a big state; I think I could reinvent
myself there.”

“I just want to go home.” Lily plopped her elbows on the
table and rested her chin in her hands. “My momma had a farm just outside
Dayton. I haven’t written her in years, I don’t even know if she’s still alive.
But that’s where I’m gonna start.”

Daisy had never heard such longing in anyone’s voice and she
nodded, feeling that pain, that emptiness. “Me too. I want to see my momma even
if she doesn’t want to see me. I just want to know she’s all right.”

Hannah clutched Daisy’s hand. “Well, you’ve all been given a
second chance, praise God. I pray you’ll use it wisely and be abundantly
blessed.”

~~~

For days after the news of the saloon closing, Naomi wrestled
with why she couldn’t get Mr. McIntyre out of her head. Guilt-ridden, she
acknowledged that with each passing day she was thinking less and less about
John and more and more about the saloon owner. The confession flustered her and
she angrily tossed a pillow to the head of the bed she was making.

He was the last man on earth she should give any thought to.
Besides, it had been over
two months
since she’d seen him. A person had
to work pretty hard to avoid another person in a town this size. Clearly, he
was done with the sisters…with her. She snatched the coverlet tight and smacked
at a rebellious wrinkle. Huffing with frustration, she whipped a rag from her
apron as if she was unsheathing a sword and attacked the dust on the posts.

“Naomi, what is wrong with you?” Rebecca’s voice from the
doorway startled her. “You’re not cleaning, you’re doing battle.”

Naomi froze, suddenly aware she
had
been working with
a vengeance. Embarrassed, she laughed nervously and shook her head. “I just
have some things on my mind.”

The sympathetic look in Rebecca’s eyes urged her to share her
thoughts. Overwhelmed, Naomi gave in to the need to talk to someone and hung
her head. “After Mollie was beaten up, I had some harsh words with Mr.
McIntyre, Rebecca. I blamed him for that and everything that’s wrong in this
town. Now he’s gone and shut down the saloon. Why would he do that?” Her
shoulders slumped, misery and confusion weighing her down. “I’ve said awful
things and acted so coldly to him.” She looked up then, ashamed of herself. “He
spent Christmas alone. No one should be alone on Christmas.” She twisted her
head from side to side in frustration. “I’m all jumbled up inside. I wrestle
with why I don’t think of John as much anymore. But Mr. McIntyre...it seems I
think of him too much.”

Rebecca folded her arms slowly, evaluating things. “You have
always been so hard on yourself, Naomi. You think you haven’t grieved long
enough for John; that’s part of this, isn’t it? I think you think if you have
any compassion for Mr. McIntyre that you’re somehow betraying John and that’s
just not true.” Rebecca leaned on the doorpost and sighed. “Time is passing and
you are healing. You’ll never forget John…but focus on the love and not his
absence. Life goes on.

“As for Mr. McIntyre, he’s a very likable fellow in spite of
his misguided morals. I agree that you’ve shown him a lot of anger but very
little grace.” She shrugged. “Being haughty isn’t very Christian.”