Much Ado About Madams (2 page)

Lucinda struggled to keep her skirt down. Still, she marveled at the flurry of activity this woman instigated. “Is your place far from here?”

“
Nope.” Fannie watched Gus tug Lucinda’s trunk from the top of the stagecoach. “Her room’s upstairs, last one on the right. And don’t break nothing.”

“
Jesus, woman! What’s in this thing,” Gus grunted.

“
Books and supplies for the children—and please don’t curse.”

Gus and Fannie both cast her sidelong glances. Filled with self-doubt, it occurred to Lucinda that perhaps teachers didn’t bring their own supplies.

“
Logan, gimme a hand here. This son-of-a . . . trunk must be a hunderd-weight.”

Fannie patted Lucinda’s arm. “Honey, you must be dying for a decent meal and a hot bath, and I got both.”

“
Yes, ma’am.”

Fannie escorted Lucinda at an unladylike pace past the saloon to the only other building in town—a two-story plank building. The red sign on the front read “Comfort Palace,” to match the garish red and blue shutters adorning the facade. Underneath the sign was a notice,
No Soljers Alowd
.

Lucinda grew increasingly uneasy. She hadn’t seen a single child, and certainly no school building. What kind of town could survive on a saloon and a hotel? Maybe the school was out of town—if Dickshooter could be called a town.

She followed Fannie into the Comfort Palace. Several ladies in decent dresses but unladylike postures gathered around Lucinda. She glanced around the large parlor, but averted her gaze when she saw pictures of half-clad women, red velvet couches, an upright piano, and a bar.

Her heart sank. Lucinda knew she’d entered a house of ill-repute. Smells she’d forgotten long ago came back to her. Cheap perfume, liquor, men. She fought the undignified urge to run.

“
This—this isn’t a hotel!”

The blonde woman dressed completely in pink stepped forward. “No, ma’am, it’s a whor—”

“
Hush!” shouted a chorus of voices. The chastised woman clapped her hand over her mouth.

Lucinda gasped and clenched her hands to her heart.
I won’t stay here!
Well, she wouldn’t stay, but she’d deal with Fannie in private. Respectable ladies don’t air their grievances in public.

Fannie called the women’s attention again. “This here’s our new schoolmarm, Miss Lucinda Sharpe. Now line up, girls.”

The ladies shuffled into a row.

She pointed to the first one, who had coal black hair and blonde eyebrows. “This here’s Trinket.”

Trinket made a clumsy curtsy. “How do, ma’am.”

Lucinda, barely able to speak but determined to exhibit exemplary manners nonetheless, nodded and managed to reply, “Very well, thank you. And you?”

Trinket looked puzzled, seeming to search Fannie’s face for an answer. “Very well, thank you.” Fannie smiled, then Trinket smiled wider. “I did good, didn’t I, Fannie?”

The ladies giggled. Fannie hushed them with a wave of her hand. “The next one’s Felicia.”

Lucinda cringed inwardly at Felicia’s scowling smile. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“
Likewise.”

The woman who’d previously spoken stepped forward. She wore pink. Everywhere. Fannie pointed to her. “You’ve already spoken with Petunia.”

“
Yes. Hello, Petunia.”

She waved broadly and grinned. “Howdy, ma’am. Welcome.”

“
And the next one’s Chrissy.”

Chrissy cast her a suspicious gaze and nodded.

“
How do you do, Chrissy.”

Fannie put her arm around the last lady’s shoulders—actually she was a girl, not more than fifteen. “This here’s Holly.”

“
Hello, Miss Sharpe,” Holly whispered.

Fannie motioned up the stairs. “Your room’s up here.”

Lucinda refused to stay in a brothel. She stood motionless, weighing her options.

“
What’s wrong—your feet nailed to the floor?”

“
Felicia, that’s enough,” Fannie scolded.

Lucinda evaluated her limited options. She could stay here. She could try to get a room in the saloon, or she could walk fifty miles through rugged wilderness to Lord-only-knows where.

“
I’ll have Sadie fix up a hot bath for you.”

The hot bath did it. She decided to stay at the Comfort Palace until she could get the stage schedule. And some money.

She set her jaw with new-found resolve. “I’ll follow you,” she said to Fannie. After all, Miss Hattie had said a suffragist could meet any challenge, and this situation definitely qualified as a challenge. She lifted her skirts and ascended the narrow staircase.

Three doors to the right and three to the left lined the hall. Fannie unlocked the third one to the right. Lucinda knew her things were already there and she felt a little sorry for Gus. It had taken four of her friends to get that trunk on the train back in St. Joseph. Not too sorry for him, though, considering her plight.

The room reeked a decidedly masculine air. The massive oak dresser and four-poster bed certainly didn’t fit in a brothel, but rather in a southern plantation mansion. Fannie whisked the dark blue velvet curtains open. The dresser held a shaving cup and brush, a straight-edge razor, and a hairbrush. A razor strop hung on the wall, next to a man’s duster.

“
Someone already lives in this room.”

“
Yup, but he’s gone fer a spell. Won’t be back for ‘nother couple of weeks.”

“
And you’re certain he won’t mind someone using his room?”

“
Naw. Just make yourself to home.” Fannie grabbed a few clothes hanging from hooks on the wall. “Put your dresses here. I’ll have a bath brung up as soon as the water’s hot.”

Lucinda’s stomach chose that moment to emit a positively unladylike growl.

“
Come down to dinner after your bath. The door at the end of the hallway takes you outside. Just go downstairs to the kitchen door—er, that is, if you don’t wanna be seen around the whores.”

Lucinda winced at the word,
whores
. “That brings up another problem.” She cleared her throat, resolving to speak with the authority she’d learned at the suffragist meetings. “It’s highly unsuitable and definitely improper for me to stay here.”

“
Prob’ly so, miss, but there ain’t nowhere else, lest you wanna sleep in the saloon. I wouldn’t recommend it, though. At least we have men to protect us here.” Fannie cocked her head and studied Lucinda’s face. “I swear I seen you somewheres before.” She left, shaking her head.

“
It’s highly unlikely,” Lucinda replied to the departing woman. But it wasn’t unlikely at all. Soiled doves from all over knew each other, and she knew that her resemblance to her mother was striking.

She flopped onto the bed, weary to the bone and covered with dust and grime. Between the grueling travel and the unforeseen circumstances of her employment, she didn’t think she could cope. Lucinda was certain the suffragists had never dreamed of anything like this when they’d crowed about the strength of women. Miss Hattie would be mortified. I
am
strong, she affirmed, and hauled herself off the bed to unpack things she would need for an overnight stay.

Just as she shook the wrinkles out of a clean dress and hung it on the wall, someone tapped on the door.

“
Your bath’s ready, Miss.”

Lucinda nearly ran to open the door. She hadn’t been clean in two very long weeks. Besides, there was nothing like a hot bath to improve one’s disposition and decision-making abilities.

A tall, burly man with a mop of blond hair carried a tub into her room, and another man, who looked exactly like the first, hauled two large buckets of steaming water. Lucinda shook her head, thinking she saw double.

The first man plunked the tub in the middle of the floor. “Howdy, ma’am.” He straightened to his full height, nearly to the ceiling. “I’m Midas,” he pointed to his twin, “and this here’s Titus.”

“
You’re always getting’ it wrong. I’m Midas and
you’re
Titus.” Titus poured the two buckets of water into the tub. Lucinda had never seen twins before. She couldn’t tell them apart. Both stood there twirling their blond handlebar mustaches.

“
I’m the good-looking one.”

His brother elbowed him. “I got the brains in the family.”

Lucinda looked from one to the other. For the first time since she’d arrived in this horrid town, she laughed.

“
Let’s get out of here so’s the lady can get her bath.” By then, Lucinda had no idea which was which. She watched them clomp out of her room.

“
Thanks, fellows!” Her spirits lifted just looking at the bath water.

Fingers flying over dress buttons, hooks and ties, she could barely hold her patience to sit in the tub. Just as she touched her toe to the water, another knock sounded.

“
Let me in, Miss Sharpe. I have rinse water fer your hair.” She recognized Fannie’s voice.

With a sigh, Lucinda put on her wrap and opened the door. Fannie charged in lugging another bucket.

“
You shouldn’t be carrying that!”

“
You want your hair washed, or not?” Fannie plunked the bucket on the floor and a little bit of water sloshed onto the plank floor. “Shuck down and sit in the tub. I’m going to give you a good head scrubbing.”

Lucinda hadn’t been naked in front of another person since she was a little girl, nor did she intend to take off her wrapper now. “I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself.”

Her definitive statement fell on deaf ears. Fannie pushed up her sleeves and pulled out a bar of soap and a sachet from her pocket. She poured rose petals in the bath water. “In you go.”

Lucinda turned away, took off her wrap and stepped into the tub. The hot water nearly scalded her skin, but she sank in as low as she could get in order to cover as much of her body as possible. Fannie handed her the bar of soap and a washcloth.

As soon as she washed her face and body, Fannie took the soap and washed her back. Lucinda found it impossible to relax. She hated for anyone to see her naked.

Then Fannie started laving her hair. Lucinda’s troubles vanished as Fannie’s fingers massaged her scalp. “Ain’t nothing quite so comforting as a good head scrubbing.”

Lucinda had to agree. Her modesty flew out the window as she sat in the tub, enjoying the serenity of the moment—until tepid water gushed over her head. Her reverie rudely interrupted, her mind seized upon her dilemma again—how to get out of this place. A most unladylike growl came from her stomach.

“
Sadie’s got food fer you down in the kitchen.” Fannie produced a towel. Lucinda hastily covered herself as she climbed out of the tub. “If’n you need help doing up your dress, I can help with that, too.”

“
No, thanks.” Lucinda waited for Fannie to leave, but she didn’t. “I’ll join you in fifteen minutes,” she said, hoping Fannie would get the hint. She didn’t.

“
Since you’re not at ease here, I’ll be taking you down this time.”

Lucinda swore under her breath. What would Miss Hattie do in this situation? How did one maintain one’s aplomb in such an establishment? Too tired and demoralized to argue, she took a clean pair of drawers and a camisole out of her trunk and put them on as fast as she could manage. She was somewhat mollified that Fannie had the decency to look elsewhere.

Fannie helped her lace up her corset and after Lucinda tied her petticoats, Fannie motioned to a chair. “Sit here. I’ll brush out your hair.”

Lucinda did as Fannie bade. When Fannie started brushing, Lucinda swore the woman had a magic touch with hair. She didn’t pull, even though its waist-length had a horrible tendency to curl and tangle.

“
I used to have hair this color, too. ‘Course, on me it was called dishwater blonde. On you, we’d call it dark honey. It suits you fine. Don’t never change it.”

Lucinda wondered why on earth Fannie thought she’d want to change her hair color. Then she realized Fannie spoke of more than the disadvantages of hair dye. A respectable lady would never color her hair. “Thank you. I don’t intend to.”

Fannie waited, arms crossed and tapping her toe, while Lucinda finished dressing and tying her wet hair into a bun.

“
Let’s go. Your dinner’ll be stone cold.”

Lucinda balked, not wanting to face the ladies again. Still, her rumbling stomach reminded her that it had been a long time since she’d attempted to eat stale bread and watery stew at the stage stop the evening before.

“
We have roast beef, taters ‘n gravy, and fresh beans from the garden,” Fanny said, tempting Lucinda.

That’s all it took. Brothel or not, she needed to eat.

In the kitchen, Sadie placed a plate heaping with food before Lucinda. The aroma of the roast beef made her mouth water, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to bow her head and give thanks, rather than to dive in and devour. Even after she finished with her abbreviated prayer, her stomach struggled with Miss Hattie’s etiquette lessons to take slow, ladylike bites. As a schoolteacher, she must be respectable at all times, she vowed, even half-starved in a brothel.