Yours Again (River City Series) (8 page)

“Mules
in dresses.” Mr. Hardin chimed in again.

Mrs.
Hardin covered her laughter with the back of her hand. “Oh, Henry!” She half
scolded her husband. “Let’s just say they aren’t very easy on the eyes.” She
nodded at the list in the younger woman’s hand. “What can I get for you, dear?”

She
gave the woman a long list of necessities, from clothing to writing paper, then
wandered around the store as the items were wrapped and placed on the counter. Samantha
amassed a large basketful of baking essentials, including some chocolate for
cookies. Charlie’s eyebrows crept toward his hairline as the number of packages
grew. He separated her from an increasingly excited Mrs. Hardin and pulled her
aside.

“Sammy,
did you ask Taos about this?” He whispered, motioning to the mound of packages.

“Why
should I? He doesn’t have any say in what I do.” She picked up a rag doll just
like the one she used to have as a child. Black button eyes and red yarn for
hair.

“He
does when you’re spending his money.”

Samantha
plopped the doll back down and opened the clasp on her small purse. She pulled
out a large wad of bills and Charlie’s eyes widened.

“What
are you doing with that kind of cash?” He pushed her hand back toward her purse
and glanced around to make sure no one else had seen it.

“Paying
my own way. I won’t be a burden to you if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
She slapped his hands away.

“It’s
not me, its Taos. He told me to take care of anything you need and put it on
his account.”

“I’ll
take care of myself. He is the last person I want to be indebted to.” She
turned in a huff and went to the counter to pay for her purchases. Both the
Hardins looked at Charlie for an explanation, but he just shrugged.

Samantha
stood on the walk and gazed down the street as Charlie loaded the wagon. For
the most part it was a quiet morning. Two women walked by and nodded at
Samantha, who smiled back. Potential friends. She could use a few. Miss Sadie’s
was hard to ignore as laughter drifted out into the street.

Samantha
twisted her mouth as she thought, chewing on the inside of her lip. What she
needed was education. If she knew one tenth of what those women knew, Taos
would be convinced she was serious about following through with the idea of
getting her ranch any way she could, even if she had no intention of going
through with it. He’d have to guard her every second, which was the whole point
of her hiding out in River City in the first place.

She
stared at the building down the street. It’s not like Aunt Mattie didn’t
explain the fundamentals of what men and women did behind closed doors, but
fundamentals just weren’t enough in this situation and she knew it. Besides,
the feeling of being in Taos’s arms opened up a whole new curiosity she just
hadn’t had before.

That’s
it.
The idea made her stomach flutter with excitement. They’re business
women after all. The worst they could do is say no. Her pulse quickened. She
waited until Charlie went inside for another load then disappeared down the
walk.

She
heard Charlie yell her name just as she disappeared down the alley next to the
saloon. She’d come this far; she wasn’t about to stop now.

Chapter 8

Samantha
paused just inside the back doorway of Miss Sadie’s, allowing her eyes to
adjust to the darkness. Dark shapes slowly took the form of familiar objects: a
table, chairs and a stove. She heard loud voices coming from the front of the
building and the ever-present piano music. The kitchen she stepped into was
just as deserted as the alley had been—so far. A bulky mass appeared from the
hallway in front of her.

“Lordy!
You scared ten years off me, Missy.” The woman slipped into the dim light of
the kitchen and looked Samantha up and down. “We don’t allow no wives in here. Not
good for business.” She lit a lamp on the table. Samantha tried not to stare. Easily
as wide as she was tall, the woman was dressed in some kind of tent- like
garment in the strangest shade of orange she had ever seen. It almost made her
want to blow the lamp out again.

“You
better git or I’ll have Adler toss you out.”

“I’m
here to see the woman in charge.” At least Samantha’s voice didn’t shake as
much as every other part of her body did.

“Sure
you are, Missy. Like I said,
no wives.
Your man’ll be home directly.”

“I
don’t have a man.”

The
woman turned a more assessing gaze on her. “Lookin’ for work? You’d make a real
good living here with that hair and all.” She waved a chubby hand toward
Samantha’s body and grinned, highlighting large gaps in what was left of a row
of yellow teeth.  

Samantha
instinctively crossed her arms in front of her, feeling exposed. She stammered.
“It’s not like that. I mean . . . I have a problem and . . . I just need to see
Miss Sadie.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a few bills, and held them
up. “I can pay for her time. It’s strictly business.”

“Well,
that’s different.” A large hand reached forward to shake Samantha’s. “The
name’s Ollie. Miss Sadie can always spare a few minutes for business.”

Samantha
followed the woman down a corridor and into what looked to be a parlor.

“Wait
here, Missy. I’ll get her.”

The
urge to run almost overwhelmed Samantha. She twined her fingers nervously and
looked around the room. The furnishings were surprisingly normal. In fact, they
were very tasteful. With its stylish furniture and conservative colors, this
parlor might be in any home in Boston. She had expected something more . . .

“Trashy?”
A slim, older woman dressed in a fashionable dark green taffeta leaned against
the door jamb with one perfect eyebrow raised. Her black hair, with subtle
hints of gray, had been pulled back into a knot at her neck. “You were
expecting something gaudy and trashy?”

“Miss
Sadie?” Samantha’s voice croaked. Could the woman read her mind?

“No,
I’m her Aunt Mavis.” She crossed in front of Samantha and seated herself in one
of the wingback chairs. “I’m not a mind reader either, dear. Your face gives
you away.”

She
smiled warmly. Samantha was both relieved and drawn to her silent invitation, sinking
into the opposite chair as the woman spoke. “Miss Sadie is more a title than a
person. My niece has only been here a week, and she inherited the title from my
sister.” A rustle sounded down the hall. “Speak of the devil.”

A
small woman hurried into the room. “Did you send for me, Aunt Mavis?”

“Miss
Sadie?” Samantha’s shock gave way to concern. This woman couldn’t be more than nineteen,
twenty at the most. She had an almost nun-like appearance with every inch of
skin covered in a black crepe dress that was conservative almost to the point
of being unfashionable. Samantha’s gaze traveled down the black fabric and was
drawn to . . . it couldn’t be . . . a string of rosary beads? Was this some
kind of joke?

“The
title is only temporary.” The newcomer’s lips drew into a thin line as she
followed the path of Samantha's stare to the beads. “My name is actually Sage. And
you are?”

“Samantha
James.”

Mavis
motioned for Sage to join them on the small red settee. Samantha noticed the
two women had the exact same shade of hazel eyes, both pairs of which were now
fixed on her, waiting for an explanation.

What
am I doing here?
Samantha stared at the floor and rolled the fabric of her
skirt between her fingers, trying to find a starting point for this
conversation. She hadn’t really had time to think about how to word her request.
Five minutes ago she was standing outside the mercantile, now she was sitting
in an infamous house of ill repute as if she did this every day. Mavis’s voice
gave her a start.

“Just
spit it out, dear, you won’t shock us. I’ve heard just about everything over
the last twenty-five years.” Mavis exuded kindness and patience.

Samantha
took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “I have this problem with my
inheritance. I can’t get it unless I’m married or have an heir, but I don’t
want to marry.” The words spilled out bunched together. She paused. There was
no reason to share the information about John or why she was really here. The
fewer people who knew the better. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly
hear herself speak. Both women listened intently but didn’t seem surprised or
shocked. She was unsure what to say next.

“So
you need help in producing an heir?” Mavis’s voice remained calm and
reassuring.

Sage
gasped. “You want a child, but no husband? Why would you do that?”

Samantha
mentally calculated the time it would take her to dash from the room and away
from this unbearable humiliation.

 Mavis
glared the girl into silence and turned her attention back to Samantha. “I
apologize for my niece. She is new to this profession and still very
naive
.”

The
reproach was stinging, and the girl shrank back into the cushions.

“Your
problem isn’t a hard one to solve. Any cowboy could help you. Why come to us?”

This
wasn’t going well. Samantha bit her lower lip and stared at her hands then at
Mavis. She seemed so kind, a little more truth surely couldn’t hurt at this
point. “Can I be completely honest?”

Mavis
leaned back in her chair. “Please do.”

“I
just want a particular man to
think
that I would go through with having
a baby on my own.” The heat on her face intensified. “I don’t know enough about
it to convince him though, since I never, well, you know.” Mavis nodded as
Sage’s eyes widened.

“So,
what you need is education, dear?”

“Yes,”
Relief flooded over her. “That’s it, and I would be happy to compensate you for
your time.”

Mavis
stared intently at Samantha for several minutes before she spoke. “You’re
certainly different than the others who have come here.”

“Others?”
Samantha asked. Was it possible that this was a common occurrence? Surely not.

 “Over
the last twenty years I can count on one hand the number of times a
respectable
woman sat in this parlor. They are generally of two types: the tambourine
bangers who come to save souls, or wives begging me to cut their husbands off. Figuratively
speaking of course.” Mavis chuckled at her own humor, which passed over
Samantha and Sage completely.

“All
of the women approach me in the same disdainful, emotional way as if I’m not
fit to scrape bug juice off their shoes. You‘re different: honest, direct, and
business minded. An unusual and potent combination, Miss James.” She paused a
moment. “I know there is much more to the story than you are letting on, but as
far as I see it that is your business, not anyone else’s.”

Samantha
had always been a terrible liar. If Taos could see that, none of this would
even be necessary. She was relieved Mavis seemed completely uninterested in her
real motives.

“Sage,
go and get Cinnamon,” The young woman leapt to her feet, glad to be leaving.

“So
you’ll help me?”

“I’d
be happy to help. Cinnamon is about your age and quite skilled. I think you’ll
be comfortable with her.”

“I
can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Glad
to help, dear. In fact, more than glad. Respect and dignity are in short supply
in this profession. Your attitude and appreciation are a soothing balm to a
long forgotten heart.” Mavis reached over and patted her hand.

Cinnamon
and Sage entered the room and Samantha was immediately struck with the thought
that the two could almost be twins, though Cinnamon was about six inches taller
and seemed a number of years older than Sage. Cinnamon certainly looked the
part of a prostitute with her bright red satin dress, low-cut and fringed with
black lace. A stark contrast to Sage’s nun-like appearance. Sage turned to
leave.

“Oh
no, Sage. I think it’s time you had a better understanding of what we do.” Mavis’s
tone was insistent. Sage reluctantly resumed her place on the bench.

Cinnamon
had her mother’s calm and reassuring manner. She sat next to Sage on the settee
and spent more than twenty minutes explaining most of the basics in a very
direct and matter-of-fact way much as Mattie had years ago. As she spoke,
Samantha slowly relaxed.

“Now
that’s most of it, but there are some variations,” Cinnamon arched a
questioning brow at Mavis, who nodded for her to continue. As Cinnamon talked, Samantha
imagined herself attempting a few of the ‘variations.’ Some of the descriptions
were intriguing, others downright repulsive.

Samantha
looked at Sage, who seemed as mortified as Samantha felt. Well, at least she
wasn’t alone.
Surely people don’t really do this? Or not all of it anyway!
At
least she was gaining enough information to scare Taos.

Cinnamon
continued on with the lesson. “Now, the first time, a man is going to be able
to tell that you’ve never been with anyone else before.” She looked thoughtful
for a moment. “And for that you would need to find someone gentle that knows
how to please.”

“How
would you do that?” Sage was as curious as she was.

“Well,
I could give you a list.” Cinnamon grinned. “Unfortunately it’s a short one. Most
men don’t care much as long as they get what they want.”

Something
just didn’t fit. When Taos had touched her, he seemed to like it as much as she
did. Could she have been wrong about that? “Why would women do this at all?”
The question slipped past Samantha’s lips before she thought.

Cinnamon
and Mavis stared at her.

Cinnamon
chuckled, “I explained how it works, but I guess I left out how it feels. When
it’s done right, that is.”

Cinnamon’s
knowing smile had Samantha’s full attention, but Sage looked like she wanted to
crawl under the chair.

“Do
I have to listen to this, it’s disgusting!” Sage dropped her head to her knees.

“Oh
this is the best part!” Cinnamon patted Sage’s arm. She seemed to enjoy
torturing the girl.

As
Cinnamon described the kind of pleasure possible, Samantha’s imagination took
her back to Taos. She thought of the feel of his lips on hers, her hands on
him, his hands on her. Her skin tingled in the strangest way. It was exactly
what Cinnamon described, and the thought of feeling that surge of warmth roll
through her again was intoxicating.

“If
you don’t mind my asking, dear, who is this man you’re trying to convince?” She
was startled from her thoughts as Mavis looked at her with intense curiosity.

“Taos
Williams.”

Mavis’
eyebrows lifted slightly .

Cinnamon
snorted. “He’s definitely not on the short list!” She slid a long finger
against her dark red lips. “But Charlie, now that’s a different story.”

“They
both come here?” Mental images of Taos and Cinnamon doing the things she had
just learned about tumbled through her mind, and Samantha had a sudden urge to
scratch her eyes out. Mavis gazed at Samantha with a knowing look that made Samantha
realize she must try to hide her emotions more. The woman
was
a mind
reader.

Cinnamon,
however, was oblivious to her discomfort. “They’re not my regulars, so I only
know what the others tell me. From what I hear, Taos hasn’t been around in a very
long time. When he is here, he just takes care of business and is gone. Not
much to say about him.”

Samantha
cast a relieved look toward Mavis who smiled.

“Charlie
is one of Raven’s regulars. He would be at the very top of the short list. To hear
Raven tell it, he’s quite the lover.”

Samantha
noticed the time as the large clock on the mantle chimed. “Oh no, I have to go.
Charlie is probably looking for me right now.” She fumbled with her purse. “How
much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”
Mavis smiled.

“But
. . .”

 “You’ve
already paid us back several times over just by coming here.”

Cinnamon
nodded her agreement, but Sage just dropped her head back to her knees.

A
dusty cloud of frustrated fury burst into the room. All four women jumped to
their feet and stared at Charlie.