Much Ado About Madams (17 page)

No one said a word.

Felicia spoke up for the first time. “That makes it sound like Reese is behind all those shenanigans.”

“
It sure as hell don’t look too good,” Petunia admitted.

“
No cursing!” Lucinda interjected.

Seven women glared at her. Well, piffle, at least they shouldn’t curse during class time, even if she’d just about given up trying to keep them from cursing elsewhere. She knew she needed to get the class back on track.

“
Fannie, please be seated and we’ll continue with the lesson.”

Fannie shook her head. “We’re having a lesson on detective work right now, Miss Sharpe.” She turned and addressed the class. “What are we gonna do to keep Reese from being suspicioned? Like Petunia here said, it don’t look too good for him, ‘specially if the sheriff finds out about this here mystery Charley.”

“
We do up nearly every man in these parts. Ain’t nothing we can’t find out using the bait under our skirts,” Chrissy pointed out.

“
True,” added Felicia. “But it would also be nice if Trinket could do the sheriff once or twice to find out what he knows.”

Trinket jumped to her feet. “No!”

The ladies gaped at her vehemence.

She seemed to reconsider. “I guess I could...well, I guess I could talk to him.”

Felicia snorted out a laugh. “Oh, he’s one of those dirty talkers who can’t get his pistol cocked, huh?”

The women tittered.

Trinket jutted out her chin and glowered at Felicia. “I certainly wouldn’t know. I—I don’t do lawmen.”

Fannie cleared her throat and the ladies were silenced. Lucinda wished she could earn the ladies’ respect as Fannie had.

After a moment of poignant quiet, Fannie gave her decree. “Trinket, talk to the sheriff and find out what he knows. The rest of you, use all the tricks in the book to find out what the hell’s going on around here. I find it awful interesting that we ain’t had a lick of this sort of trouble in all the years we been here, and in just one damned week we get talk of rustling
and
Hannibal Hank rides in besides. If we ain’t careful, we’re liable to be working for Hank till we kick the bucket from the clap.”

The ladies muttered their agreement. Trinket looked even grouchier than usual.

“
We got four days,” Fannie went on. “Reese is out on business—Silver City. And Hank’s gone up to try to skunk some poor miner in Montana—”

“
Maybe one of ‘em can deposit some lead into him,” Felicia interrupted.

“
I doubt it,” Fannie replied. “He’s managed to sidestep lead poisoning this long. Let’s find out all we can. You can write it down on your slates for tomorrow.”

The ladies all stood and started filing out the door.

“
Class time is over,” Lucinda announced to her departing students, as if she’d been in any sort of control. “Do your sums I gave you for tomorrow.” But she doubted if a single one of them heard her. The sums would probably have to wait.

Lucinda sat down at Reese’s desk to prepare for the next day’s classes. The Palace wouldn’t open for another hour yet, so she could see the ladies coming and going, dressed down for business, picking up their spare sheets and filling their butter dishes.

Even though some of the ladies had been reluctant to accept change and were convinced they could never raise themselves above that of a soiled dove, they seemed to be taking more control over their fates. They certainly insisted on solving the rustling problem and clearing their boss.

Reese. She tried not to think about him. He unsettled her in ways that ladies simply shouldn’t be unsettled. She’d been disappointed when Fannie announced he’d be gone for a while. Lucinda knew he was attracted to her, although it was most certainly only the shallow physical attraction men had for anything in a skirt. But she’d felt pretty in the dress Trinket had given her, and even prettier when he caught her from falling down the stairs.

Her face flushed hot. Suffragists didn’t need any man. Especially
that
man—one who used women for his own financial gain, even if those women seemed to adore him. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t prevent the warm buzz whirling around deep inside when the wonderful feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her invaded her mind.

No matter his calling—a brothel owner and all—she had a hard time with the notion of him being a cattle rustler. She’d never seen him say a harsh word to any of the ladies and he was a hard-working sort. If she had met him in downtown St. Joseph, she’d have thought he was just another cattle rancher.

Of course, people had seemed to like Hannibal Hank and Fast Hands Stuart, too. She frowned. No, it wasn’t the same. Those two pursued pleasure and money to the exclusion of all else. Reese didn’t frequent the brothel—the ladies had made that clear to her from the day she’d arrived. He’d even hired her to teach the ladies to read and write.

Reese McAdams made no sense to her at all. It would be so much simpler if he were ugly and mean. But he sure wasn’t.

She sighed. He definitely was not.

Chapter 9

Lucinda sat in Reese’s office idly flipping through the history book she had been holding for fifteen minutes without having read a single word. She liked sitting in his office chair almost as much as she had wanted him to kiss her when she’d scalded her hand. The very thought made her jump to her feet, clutching the book to her breast.

On the subject of the loathsome male species, she still needed to talk to Midas about Chrissy. Lucinda had been mortified when she’d struggled through the fires of hell to talk about it to him the first time, only to find out she’d been talking to Titus. Not one thing had gone according to plan since she’d left St. Joseph.

At least her students were progressing well, even though they were all at least a decade older than she’d expected. Trinket, struggling as she did, had passed the test on the third-grade primer. Lucinda still worried about Chrissy, though.

At that moment, she heard Trinket’s voice in the parlor.

“
You wanna come upstairs, Sheriff?’

Lucinda peeked out the doorway to see Trinket wrapped around the sheriff in a most indecent posture. She made a note to talk to the ladies about that. Respectable ladies did not make themselves so . . . well, so
available
.

The sheriff made an interesting low growl, quite similar to that of Reese during the kiss that didn’t happen. She flushed hot again.
Piffle!
She vowed not to think about that again—again. Her solemn vows hadn’t been too reliable as of late.

“
No, I don’t,” the sheriff told Trinket.

She batted her eyelids again. “What’s the matter—you broke?”

He pushed Trinket away to arm’s length. “I’m not going upstairs with you, Trinket. Not now, not ever. I just want you to come outside and talk to me.”

Trinket glanced quickly at Fannie, then looked at Sheriff Tucker again. She licked her lips and lowered her eyes in a practiced seductive fashion. “You’d have to pay for my time,” she said in a sultry voice.

He tilted his head slightly and looked her right in the eye. “No, Trinket. It’s not business hours. You’re on your own time and if you want to talk to a friend, come outside with me. If you want a poke for pay, get a man with no heart, but leave me alone.” With that, he started to leave.

Trinket grabbed his hand. “Please!” Her eyes wide and her color high, she looked quite frantic. Lucinda knew how she felt. Exactly.

Tucker turned back to Trinket and put his hat on. “Are you coming outside with me, or not?” He held out his hand.

She took it, but didn’t move. She looked like a frightened little girl. He gently stroked her hand like he would have petted a puppy that’d just lost its mother. She took a step forward. He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and they walked out the front door together.

Lucinda stared at the closed door. She knew that somehow, something remarkable had happened.

“
If that ain’t the damnedest, blamedest thing you ever saw.” She jumped at Fannie’s voice, and wondered why she sounded so incredulous.

“
That she wanted him to go upstairs, but he wanted to go outside?” Lucinda asked.

Fannie shook her head. “Nope. What’s plumb amazing is that she went outside. I don’t believe she’s ever went outside except to the privy.”

“
Gone
,” Lucinda corrected.

“
Yup, I believe so. She’s a goner all right. We’ll all have to deal with another broken heart inside a week or so. Damn!”

Lucinda had never heard of a healthy person staying inside all the time. “Why does she stay inside?”

“
Hard to say. All’s I know is, she don’t
never
go outside. She plumb went into fits when she had to come here in an open wagon instead of a stagecoach. We had to dose her with laudanum.” Fannie moved the curtain a bit and peeked out the window. “Damn, talk about honey on a turd sandwich. That doggoned sheriff done put his duster on the dirt for her to sit on, and she’s sitting there like that Virgin Queen of yours waiting fer her mint julep.” She snapped the curtain back into place and turned away, frowning.

“
I doubt that Queen Elizabeth drank mint juleps,” Lucinda said.

“
I’m glad I ain’t queen, then.”

Lucinda’s curiosity got the better of her, and even though she knew spying was highly improper, she lifted the curtain and peeked out the window. The picture she saw fit Fannie’s description exactly. So what were Sheriff Tucker’s intentions? If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was courting Trinket—Trina, rather—but she found it highly unlikely that a man of the law would align himself with a lady of the evening. Chances were, he thought he could get information about the cattle rustling problem from her, especially if he truly thought Reese to be the culprit.

Fannie’s observation that they should be prepared to heal a broken heart seemed correct as well. Trina looked at the sheriff as though he were Romeo, and he treated her like a china doll. Lucinda’s obligation was to protect Trina’s pride and build her confidence. Neither of those things could happen if Sheriff Tucker tromped all over her most tender feelings.

* * * * *

Reese reined Buster to a stop in front of the dressmaker’s shop. He’d made it to Silver City in short order, thanks to the best horse in Owyhee County. He dismounted and patted the old boy’s nose before he tied him to the hitching post and walked into the shop before he lost his nerve.

He’d rather take a horsewhipping than go to these silly women’s shops, but when a man had seven women—now eight—to take care of, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of choice. The schoolmarm wanted a dress. What for, he had no idea. She looked perfectly fine to him no matter what she wore, but he had to admit, he especially liked to see her wearing his britches—a sight he doubted he’d ever see again.

He took off his Stetson and brushed the dust from his shoulders before he entered the store, delaying the inevitable, then took a deep breath and went in.

Bolts of material lined the wall to his left and fashion plates, bonnets, and reticules were jammed willy-nilly on the racks to his right. Some ready-made dresses were pinned up in the window and ladies’ unmentionables were kept in the back. All this he knew from previous visits, but he browsed a while so that the two customers gaping at him might think he was looking at the merchandise instead of making sure none of the old biddies standing around were snickering at him.

Word had gotten around, and by now the store proprietor, Mrs. Snoodle—an appropriate surname, he thought—knew that he owned a brothel. She worked hard at soaking him for every penny she could, but so far, he’d made sure he secured his money’s worth.

After the two customers left the shop, the old bat hurried over to him, rubbing her palms together and smiling greedily. “May I help you, Mr. McAdams?”

He dug his wallet out of his vest and extracted the fabric swatch and the paper with the schoolmarm’s measurements. “I’d like a dress this color,” he said, handing her the swatch.

She took the fabric and the paper. Reading it, she commented, “Oh, you must have a new girl. She must be lovely. I’ll see to it right away.” She disappeared into the back room.

Lovely, indeed. Reese had known he shouldn’t have read Miss Sharpe’s most personal of information, but he couldn’t resist. Mathematics didn’t lessen her appeal in the slightest. For about an hour there, he’d had a very uncomfortable ride.

She was so earnest, too. It appeared to him that she honestly cared for the ladies because she certainly didn’t treat them poorly or talk down to them. That was a good thing, because there wasn’t a human walking on the face of this earth that might not find himself down and out some day. Getting uppity about other people’s misfortunes was a good way to have to eat your words.

Still, she was a stickler for respect and worked hard at teaching the ladies to respect themselves as well as others. Respect was easy to lose in a whorehouse. Who’d have thought a woman with Miss Sharpe’s measurements could come up with solid values like that?

After what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes or so, Mrs. Snoodle came out loaded to the hilt with fashion plates, material, and a ready-made. “Have a look at these, Mr. McAdams.” She plopped her goods on the counter and held up the dress. “This was made for one of the girls at an establishment here in town, and it’s fairly close to the color of the swatch. I could alter it to fit your girl’s measurements in two hours.”