A Run for Love (18 page)

She sighed and slid to the floor. Three whores with a challenging stance staked out a small cot in the cell, daring all comers to move them. Mrs. Boswell sat in another cell, but they all could hear her complaining loud and clear about the unjust treatment of ladies. Tori leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Jesse ushered Mr. and Mrs. Abbott out of his office after they signed their wills. The last clients of the day, and he looked forward to picking up Tori and taking her out to supper. A warm day for May, and a stroll along the river later tonight would be nice.

He and Tori were finally making progress. When Michael went off to college in the fall, he hoped to have the new house finished so Rachel, Ellie, and Hunter could move in with them. He made a quick note to speak with his contractor. It would be September before you knew it.

Jesse whistled as he strolled to the back of the house to wash, change his shirt, and comb his hair. As he shrugged into his jacket, a loud pounding rattled the door. This better not be anything to delay his date with Tori. He shouted, “I’m coming. Quit banging.”

He threw open the door. The Mayor, Pastor Dave, Mr. Boswell and two other men crowded his front steps.

“Gentlemen,” he said, taking in their unsettled appearance, “what can I do for you?”

“We need your help, Jesse. Can we come in for a minute?” Pastor Dave took off his hat, crushing the brim in his hands.

Jesse groaned to himself. Whatever their problem, it better not take too long.

“Sure. Come on in.”

The men flowed into the entry, then followed him toward the kitchen. From their serious faces, conversation might be more comfortable if they could sit around a table instead of his office. But nobody sat, so he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “So how can I help you?”

Mr. Boswell blustered. “You can get out wives out of jail.”

“Jail?” He uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips.

“Yes, jail.” Pastor Dave wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

“I think it might be a good idea to start at the beginning and tell me why your wives are in jail.” Jesse pulled out a chair, turning it around so he could straddle it. The rest of the men sat stiffly.

They all turned to Mr. Boswell, the apparent spokesman.

“It seems our wives got into a little problem at the saloon today.”

Jesse stared slack-jawed, and then shook his head to clear his hearing. “Did you say at the saloon? Your wives? What saloon?”

“The Bottomless Bucket.” Pastor Dave continued to mop his forehead.

“You kinda took me by surprise here, gentlemen. Why don’t you explain to me why they were in the saloon.” The urge to laugh sat just below the surface, but he worked to keep a straight face. The men before him wouldn’t appreciate his humor.

Mr. Boswell drew himself up in his chair and told the story of the Ladies League for Decency march. Jesse listened, nodding at the proper time, glad Tori told him she would be busy shopping today. Besides, she had too much sense to get involved in such a fiasco.

“So the sheriff took all your wives to the jailhouse?”

“Yes.” One of the other men fidgeted in his chair. “Locked them all up and sent word to the husbands to come get them. We thought maybe we should get some legal advice before we went to the jail. We've never had to deal with this sort of thing before.” He ran his finger around the inside of his collar.

“Well, I’ll be happy to go with you and see what charges, if any, Johnson is bringing.”

“You’ll need to go anyway.” Mr. Boswell sighed as he got up. “Seeing as how Tori needs to be bailed out, too.”

“What!?” Jesse jumped up, knocking his chair over. “While we’ve been sitting here talking, my wife is in jail?”

Pastor Dave stood and pushed in his chair with the ease of a man who had all the time in the world. “Yes, of course. She’s at the jailhouse, too.”

Jesse raced out of the house and stormed to the jail. The men followed, hurrying to keep up. Sounds of females shouting greeted him from blocks away.

Several men milled around outside the jail, waiting their turn to get their wives out. Jesse pushed through, shouting, “Lawyer.” A path opened up.

The sheriff stood off to the side, surrounded by a circle of men.

“Where’s my wife?” Jesse demanded.

The sheriff’s eyes looked longingly at the small window alongside him as if he wanted to crawl out and head for the border. Instead, he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief as he shouted over the din of the women yelling, “In the back, Jesse, locked up with the others.”

Jesse pushed toward the direction of the cells, but the sheriff pulled him back by his collar. “Now hold on there, son. I have to do this orderly like.”

Jesse yanked free of the sheriff’s hold. “Have charges been filed?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then as her attorney, I demand you release her immediately.”

“Just a minute.” The sheriff puffed out his chest. “There
will
be charges filed against these women. They destroyed the saloon this afternoon. I’m expecting Caleb Johnson to tear down here first thing tomorrow morning when he gets off the train.”

“Fine. Until charges have been filed, you need to release these women.” When the sheriff hesitated, he added, “Come on, sheriff, you know all these women, their husbands. They aren’t going anywhere before tomorrow morning. We’re not talking about dangerous outlaws here.”

The sheriff shifted his cigar. “I ain’t so sure of that. Right now I’d rather have a gang of thieves in my cells trying to saw their way out.” He took a deep breath and confronted the men, running his hands through his scarce hair. “All right. I’ll let ‘em out, but only cause I can’t stand anymore of the caterwauling coming from those cells back there.” He motioned with his thumb.

Grabbing a ring of keys, he glared at the group of men. “I’ll send them out, one at a time. You have to sign this.” He waved a yellow piece of paper and handed it to one of the deputies. “They have to appear back here first thing tomorrow morning.”

The sheriff ambled to the back of the jailhouse, wiping his forehead again, his unlit cigar chomped to a bit. At the appearance of the sheriff, the shrieking from the women grew louder.

The first woman came out. A man stepped forward to claim her, then signed his name and shoved the paper back at the deputy. Another one came out, and then another, repeating the process. Some men were relieved, while others barely controlled their anger.

Stunned at the women’s disheveled condition, Jesse brushed his hand along the nape of his neck. Beads of sweat met his dry fingertips.

Torn dresses, scratches, bruises, and, of course, lots of tears. Unbelievable.

Tori hurried down the hall and spotted him. She ran straight into his arms. He held her while she cried and blubbered words he couldn’t understand. Something about signs, singing, her sore eye, and a broken shoe.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He led her from the jailhouse. She continued to sob, and he wished for the privacy of his carriage. He didn’t want to parade his distraught wife down Main Street hobbling on one shoe. The next couple out, Pastor Dave and his wife, lived a few steps from the jail.

“Pastor, can I borrow your buggy to take my wife home?”

“Sure, Jesse, that would be okay.” He wrapped his arm around a sobbing Jane.

“I’ll bring it right back.”

“Don’t concern yourself. I won’t need it again tonight. You take care of your wife.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Jesse led Tori to the buggy, still parked in front of the Pastor’s house, not having been put away for the night.

“Honey, do you have your spectacles?”

Tori raised her twisted spectacles and kept mumbling words he couldn’t understand, with sobs in between. He patted her on the back and uttered comforting sounds.

Once they were out of jail, he relaxed a bit. All those women, church-going, respectable ladies, sitting in the jailhouse with the local whores. And the fact they’d involved themselves in a saloon brawl flabbergasted him.

A fierce desire to throttle Mrs. Boswell and her decency campaign ripped through him. His stomach clenched at the thought of Tori being hurt, and then dragged off to jail like a criminal.
His wife!
And sitting in jail with whores. Never did he want any part of his soiled childhood to touch her.

With white-knuckled fists, he held the horses in check as they drove down Main Street. The town appeared a lot busier than usual at this time of day. People gathered in groups and grinned in his direction. A few brave souls hollered something about upstanding women and funniest thing ever.

Children, accompanied by the inevitable muddy dogs, shouted and ran alongside the buggy. Storekeepers saluted him and doubled over with laughter, slapping each other on the back in their hilarity. The best thing he could do was to get Tori home as fast as possible. Raising the collar of his jacket, he smacked the horses.

Tori groaned and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief he’d given her. Jesse switched both reins to one hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. They sped up, rocking back and forth, leaving gales of laughter behind.

He hustled Tori into his house, still hot with anger. When they went into the bedroom, he examined her. Appalled, he viewed her swollen eye, the shattered spectacles, and the small scratches on her face. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, and three buttons were missing.

“My God, look at you!” Jesse lifted Tori’s chin, and moved her head one way, then another. “You’ll have a black eye by morning!”

“I’ve...I’ve been telling you...all the way home my eye hurt, and...and I couldn’t see.” Her words came out in between sobs. “And I...I...hurt all over. I think someone hit...hit me...me on my back with one of the signs.”

Yanking off his jacket and tie, he rolled up his shirtsleeves as he headed toward the kitchen. “I’m getting a hot bath for you. You need to soak those aches and pains away. You also have a couple scratches on your face that need attention.”

Tori moaned and collapsed on the bed. He heated the water and filled the bathtub. When he had everything ready, he returned to find Tori sprawled on the quilt, sound asleep.

“Come on, darlin’, you have to get into the tub. If you don’t soak those aches and pains, you’ll be stiff as a board in the morning.”

“I’m so tired,” Tori mumbled.

“I know, honey, but let me help you get your clothes off.”

Between the two of them, they removed her clothing, and Jesse eased her into the tub. She already sported some black and blue marks on her ribs, back, and legs. He shook his head, thinking about civilized women in a barroom brawl.

While Tori soaked, he gathered cold cloths for her eye and salve for the scratches. He took a trip next door and asked Rachel to search for an extra pair of spectacles and Tori’s nightgown.

“I heard a bunch of ladies got into a fight at the saloon, got arrested, and have to appear at the jail tomorrow.” Rachel handed the requested items to Jesse.

“Yeah, that pretty much covers what happened.”

“Ah, this is a strange question, but is Tori one of the women?” Michael entered the room and leaned against the wall with a smirk.

“Not so strange, son. I don’t know much more than you do right now, but yes, Tori landed herself in jail with all the women involved in the scuffle. That’s why she’s at my house right now, soaking away bruises.”

Michael and Rachel shared open mouth grins, but one chuckle from Rachel, and all three of them burst out laughing.

“I heard the mayor’s and pastor’s wives were involved,” Rachel said in between wiping tears from her eyes.

“Yep. Saw them both when I collected your aunt.” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “That reminds me, Rachel, can you get me a change of clothes for Tori for her appearance at the jailhouse in the morning?”

“Oh, this is too much.” Rachel still wiped at her eyes. “I can’t wait to hear the whole story.”

“Neither can I. But, on a serious note, these women can be in big trouble.” Jesse’s voice grew grim. “When Caleb Johnson presses charges, they’ll have to appear before a judge, and who knows what will happen from there.”

“Well, for now, just take care of Tori.” Michael walked him to the door. Jesse nodded and, juggling Tori’s clothes, shoes, and spectacles, left the house.

When he returned home, he found Tori sound asleep again, this time in the bathtub. He tried not to dwell on his naked wife right there in his house. Gritting his teeth, he woke her, dried her off, put her in the white cotton nightgown, and tucked her into bed. Before he could tend to the scratches on her face, a knock sounded on the front door.

“Oh my.” Mrs. Bonner hurried through the door, balancing a large bowl in her hands. “I heard Tori and other women created some trouble today at one of the saloons. Is she all right?”

“She’s all right, but then again, not so all right.” He took the bowl from her hands. “She’s all in one piece, but that one piece is a bit beaten up.”

Mrs. Bonner tsked between a grimace. “Where is she?”

“I just put her to bed, but I don’t think she’s quite asleep yet, though she’s already fallen asleep twice since we got home.” He showed her to the bedroom.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Bonner said upon seeing Tori’s battered face. Jesse watched as her worried gaze filled with concern and the lines around her mouth deepened. “Look at you.”

Tori gave her a half smile.

“I brought you some soup. It will make you feel better.”

“Thanks. I am a little hungry.” Tori adjusted her position until she sat against the headboard.

Jesse fetched a spoon and napkin, and while she ate, Tori told her story. Again, Jesse held his laughter in check, and from the corner of his eye watched Mrs. Bonner’s lips twitch as she controlled hers. When Tori chuckled at the end of her tale, everyone joined in.

Jesse took the empty bowl and, leaning over, gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Now I think you better get some sleep. The sheriff is expecting us at the jailhouse early.”

Mrs. Bonner patted her leg. “Good night, dear. And good luck tomorrow.”

They left the bedroom as Tori eased under the covers.

Mrs. Bonner buttoned her coat and reached for the door as Tori yelled for Jesse. “You better see what she wants.” She squeezed Jesse’s arm. “Good night, now.”

Jesse went back to the bedroom. Tori leaned on one elbow, clutching the blanket to her chin.

“What, honey?” Jesse sat alongside her.

“You
are
you going with me tomorrow, aren’t you?” Her eyes were wide and her voice shook.

He frowned. “Of course.” Her wide-eyed look, combined with the swollen blackening eye and scratches, wrenched his heart.

The bed dipped as he lay next to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m here, Tori. And I always will be. Now go to sleep, honey.” He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp until she relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

After Jesse and Tori arrived at the jailhouse, they were informed to go to the new Church Fellowship Hall.

Jesse stood among the somber group of women who gathered with their menfolk, Tori pressed to his side.

The weather matched the demeanor of the group. Clouds filled the Oklahoma sky, blocking out any sun, and dropping the early April temperature to downright cold.

Circuit Judge Blaine, visiting from Oklahoma City, agreed to hear the case of the City of Guthrie vs. The Ladies League for Decency and The Female Employees of The Bottomless Bucket.

A sorry group of beaten and bruised women, some, the upstanding citizens of Guthrie society, and some, the saloon girls, filed into the church hall. Mrs. Boswell had a black eye, with her arm in a sling. Jane Wilton, the Pastor’s wife, ambled in, a bandage on her head, her lip swollen, and scratches across her neck. The mayor’s wife, Mrs. Sarah Clement, sat upright, appearing undamaged, until she moved, and winced with pain.

The saloon girls didn’t fare any better. They also sported black eyes, bandages, and scratches.

Judge Blaine sat at the head table, Sheriff Grady on one side and a very irritated Caleb Johnson on the other. The bar owner kept glancing at his pocket watch, brow furrowed.

The husbands of the criminals sat next to their wives, attempting to comfort them. As the lawyer for the group, Jesse sat up front, with Tori clinging to his arm, dabbing her eyes once in a while with a white lace handkerchief.

Judge Blaine banged the gavel and announced court in session.

He glowered at the women in front of him. “In all my years as a lawyer and judge, I have never, ever witnessed the likes of this melee.” He leaned forward and pointed his gavel at the crowd. “To think refined ladies, who are mothers, wives, and upstanding members of this community, could involve themselves in a barroom brawl, causing injuries and extensive damage, is unbelievable.”

The women all shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny and a few broken sobs filled the silence.

“Mr. Johnson has agreed not to file charges. Provided he is reimbursed for damages.” The judge continued to scowl at the group.

“However, more than Mr. Johnson’s damages are involved here.” He studied a piece of paper and adjusted his spectacles. “The Ladies League for Decency paraded down the main street of Guthrie without a legal permit. The Ladies League for Decency entered a place of business not permitted to ladies, and refused to leave when requested to do so.”

Jesse put his arm around his wife and gave her a squeeze. Freckles stood out on her pale face, and she chewed on her lower lip. He handed her his clean handkerchief to replace the sopping one she clutched.

The Judge continued. “The Ladies League for Decency proceeded to,”—he stopped to stare over his spectacles at his audience—“Chase the female residents and employees of The Bottomless Bucket up the stairs to the floor where their business is conducted!” Jane moaned and collapsed in the Pastor’s lap in a dead faint. The judge frowned and shouted, “Throw some water on that woman.” Mumbling and shifting from the audience caused the judge to slam the gavel so hard Jesse expected to see splinters fly into the air.

“Fines will be imposed by the City and added to the saloon damages. A list of charges will be tallied by the court clerk and made available to the gentlemen. I don’t care how you divide it, as long as all damages and fines are paid within thirty days.”

He removed his spectacles and rubbed them with a handkerchief. “You ladies are ordered by this Court to return to your homes and seek occupation there. If you find taking care of your homes, children, and husbands is not enough to keep you busy, I suggest you form a sewing circle or knitting club, but,” —he stood as he put his spectacles back on—“There will be no more Ladies League for Decency in this town!”

He turned to the group of prostitutes huddled together across from the Decency League. “This Court orders you to work out your portion of the damages with Mr. Johnson.” He shot a glare at a young whore who giggled. “In whatever manner he chooses. If unwelcomed guests show up at your place of business, you will send someone to summon the Sheriff, and
not deal with it yourselves
.”

Red-faced and shooting fire from his eyes, he raised his gavel, slammed it down, and shouted, “Court is adjourned.”

Several moans, sighs, and gasps followed. Men patted their wives’ hands as they sobbed into handkerchiefs. The saloon women stood en masse and left the hall, no doubt feeling uneasy at finding themselves so close to the church.