by jfclover
~*~*~*~*~*~
There’s nothing better than getting away from the Ponderosa for a few days. It doesn’t matter what the task may be. Perhaps it’s the change of scenery or a departure from the tedium of running the ranch, but I’m a better person when I return home. I’m refreshed and more relaxed and ready to get back into a routine.
I lead three mares behind me, three that were still a bit skittish when the Army came to pick up the string of new mounts we’d worked on for the past few months. I didn’t break broncs like I did in my younger days, but I have two great wranglers working for me that are happy to be bucked and kicked and bloodied. Whatever it takes to gentle a horse, Jack and Walt are two of the best. Pa thinks one of them should go with me to Fort Churchill, but I say no.
“It’s not that far. I can handle three horses, Pa.”
“How’s that shoulder?”
“It’s fine.”
I’d feel better if you’d—”
“Not this time.”
Though the bullet wound has barely healed, the whole situation sticks with me, and I need time alone to shake the feeling that I’m old enough and smart enough to know better than to get involved with a lost love. I’m still paying the price for my stupidity, and not just my body. The mind is a funny thing. You tell yourself a hundred times to forget her, to move on and leave the past behind, that she belongs to someone else, that you have more sense than to let her linger in your head like a ghostly apparition, but you can’t. Damn it all to hell. Will it ever end?
~*~*~*~
As the room comes into focus, the ceiling changes from a cloudy blur into a conscious guess that coat after coat of whitewash has been splashed onto worn spots, perhaps where leaks from a heavy thundershower appeared. Wallpaper, old and torn and filled with faded pink roses, fashions the walls. And while the furniture looks like it came over on the Mayflower, old and in need of repair, the odd array of furnishings surround a bed that isn’t mine.
The shirt and trousers I wore last night inside the saloon are draped over the footboard of a battered, brass bed, but whose bed do I occupy? Why am I undressed and lying in an unfamiliar room, but when a sharp pain pierces my side, it brings back a remembrance of the night before.
A poker game with men I didn’t know, but where I became the big winner. At night’s end, I stuff the five hundred dollars in my jacket pocket and start for the hotel, an extra bonus for a long and dusty ride over to Fort Churchill to deliver the three horses I promised the major. Five hundred will be more than enough to buy that new saddle I’ve had my eye on for months down at Lonestar Leather.
When a second fiery jolt of pain shoots close to my ribcage, I clutch my right side, and that’s when cool, soft fingers guide my hand away from the clean, white bandages that surround my midsection.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
I look straight into a pair of ebony eyes, but my mind doesn’t register the woman staring down at me. How could I forget a lady as beautiful as the one clutching my hand?
“I’m sorry.”
“My name is Billie, and I work at The Lucky Nickel.”
“Billie … poker.”
“That’s right. You were the big winner.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s why you’re here.”
“Excuse me?”
Billie lays my hand on top of the mattress and pulls a wooden chair closer to the bed. “After you left the saloon, two men stabbed you and left you for dead in the alleyway. They took your winnings.”
“But why was I brought here? I assume this is your room.”
“We’d made plans earlier, Joe. You gave me a ten-spot to keep the night open.”
“I remember.”
Billie chuckles. “Didn’t quite turn out like you planned, did it?”
I force a weary smile. “No. Not as planned.”
I try to sit up, but my lovely nursemaid pushes me back down on the bed. I try my best to remember if I was after more than just a few drinks with an exotic-looking woman or did I plan to follow her upstairs and let her have her way with me.
“Doc says three or four days before you should get up.”
I stare at the whitewashed ceiling above me. “Three or four days.” I meant to be home by the end of the week. Pa will have Roy and a posse out looking if I don’t let him know what, where, and why. “Will you do me another favor?”
“Of course.”
“Send a telegram.” She hands me paper and a pencil, and I write a brief message to Pa, and sign it, as always, JFC.”
After picking up a knitted shawl and placing an odd-looking hat on her head, she leaves the room. I close my eyes and remember the night before.
~*~
They creep down the alleyway. Their footsteps are silent until they’re right on top of me, kick my legs out from under me, and laugh as I fall flat on my face. And when I manage to push up on all fours, I’m struck on the back of the head. The taller one pulls at my jacket and reaches inside the front pocket to take my winnings, but my mistake is to fight back. That’s when the shorter man thrusts a six-inch Bowie knife into my right side. It’s over. The money is gone and so are the two bandits. I’m bleeding out. My head pounds like the beat of a drum, and after pressing my hand to my side to staunch the flow of blood, I lose consciousness, but death will pass me by. I’m not taken to the doc’s surgery. Instead, I’m hauled upstairs and placed in a whore’s private room above the saloon.
~*~
When she reaches the telegraph office, she will hand the telegrapher my message, and she’ll notice that I’ve asked for a payment of one hundred dollars. By the end of the day, the money should be transferred to the Wells Fargo outside the walls of Fort Churchill, and I’ll be able to reimburse Billie for some of her added expenses. It isn’t her fault that I’ve been stabbed, and it’s kind of her to put me up.
As the day progresses, Billie says she needs to get back to work, that she needs to earn a living. I ask her to stay, but she shakes her head. She’s already made up her mind, and in the confines of her small, cluttered room, I watch her get ready for the night. The hair and makeup, the change of undergarments and a fresh blue dress. Does she forget that I’m watching, that sleep won’t come after so much time in bed? Does she know what her presence does to a man? That seeing the intimate details of a woman’s routine is a bit more than I can watch and remain indifferent. Is she that much of a tease? If I wasn’t still hurting, I’d leap out of bed and ….
Billie is a good nurse. She follows doctor’s orders to a tee. Won’t let me out of bed. Makes me drink more than I want and wipes the fever from my brow. The doc—Alexander Burns—calls in once a day. He praises Billie and winks at me. The wink is unnecessary, but that’s the way life is. The woman is a saloon girl, Creole, a whore in anyone’s eyes, but she’s a decent sort, and the doc’s wink hits me the wrong way. And though I remain quiet, my heart beats faster than it should, a clear sign that he’s given his unsolicited opinion of a woman who nurses me back to health.
By the time I’m able to sit up and eat something besides soup from the local café, I ask Billie to join me. I’m still laid up, of course, and she’s not about to let me get up and sit at a small wooden table she uses for her lady’s things, but we each have a bowl of beef stew and a piece of warm white bread that isn’t half bad.
I enjoy Billie’s company, and we have more than enough time to talk. She gives away a few details of her life, and I do the same, a little chitchat between naps, which happen more often than I dare say. Gaining strength isn’t easy. Doc says the wound is healing, but I’m still too weak to ride back to the Ponderosa, and I’m curious about Billie’s take on the night I was stabbed.
“It was time for a breather, and besides, I thought it was odd that you gave me that ten-spot and then took off before … you know.” Whether my face gives the impression of regret, I don’t know, but Billie continues the story without comment. “I set off out the back door and after lighting a cheroot, I headed toward the alley, and there you were kind of curled up against an empty keg of beer.”
“But why did you bring me here rather than take me to Doc’s?”
“First of all, I didn’t carry you. When I saw the blood, I panicked. My hands shot to my mouth, and I screamed bloody murder. Two young men—two local boys—came running. Guess I didn’t think, did I? Doc’s makes a lot more sense, but I couldn’t think straight. You were hurt and ….”
“Believe me, Billie. I’m not complaining.” A smile lights up her face. “I’m in your debt.”
~*~*~*~
Three days pass, and I’m sitting tall like a normal human being. I’ve done enough lying in bed to last a lifetime and realize that Pa and Doc Martin would be proud of me. For once, I did what I was supposed to, although I’ll admit that circumstances are different this time. Having a beautiful woman—even if she’s a bit different than the girls I’m used to—makes lying in bed much more pleasant.
I’m not looking forward to the ride home. I’m not looking forward to leaving Billie behind. We’ve become good friends, and I’ll miss her. Since that first night, when she told me she needed to get back to work, I talked her out of leaving. Even though she was dressed and ready to walk out the door, I begged her to stay, and she agreed to my proposal.
“I’ll cover your expenses.”
“I can’t let you, Joe”
“For the rest of the month.”
“I don’t ….”
“Let me do this one thing for you. Please.”
Call me whatever, but I don’t want her downstairs with men who play rough with certain whores. When she changed her clothes earlier, I noticed the remains of bruising on her arms, and on the evening when I first arrived and gave her the ten-spot for the night, the left side of her jawline was swollen. Someone—a customer, I have to assume—had gotten out of line and taken advantage. Whether the management gives a shit or not, I care enough to keep her from going back downstairs. Maybe I can’t protect her forever, but, like me, she needs time to heal.
The more I consider Billie’s situation, the more I think about what I can do to keep her safe, but I’m convalescing outside the walls of Fort Churchill, a small settlement consisting of a saloon, café, and telegraph office. No funds for a sheriff, just a wide spot in the road and a saloon owner who doesn’t care what goes on as long as he sells enough whiskey to stay in business. Not a place like Virginia City, where Roy does his best to keep the rowdies at bay. And though I come up with a plan, I’m not sure she’ll agree or whether it’s even a smart thing to do. We’ll have to travel together over fifty miles, a cowboy and his whore. It won’t look right, but we’ll have no other choice.
Maybe I should sleep on it. Pa always says that situations look better after a good night’s rest. When Billie returns with a pot of stew for us to share, I sit up tall in the bed and let her serve me a bowl and a piece of bread.
“Clara is out of strawberry jam. Says she’s sorry and asks if apricot will do.”
“I’ll pass, but you go ahead.”
“Not a favorite?”
“No. That’s my brother, Hoss, but anything you set in front of him, he likes.”
“Oh, one of those.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re the picky one.”
I smile. “Pretty much.”
With supper out of the way, and with the oil lamp burning on her only flat piece of furniture, Billy sits down in her overstuffed chair. She’s used it for a bed since I’ve been here, but not tonight.
“Lay down with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I pat the bed where I’ve left enough room for her to crawl under the covers.
“Are you well enough?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“No?”
“No. I just want to lie next to you.”
She seems confused by my proposal. No one has ever said that to her before. Everyone wants more, and that’s her job. I understand that, but I just want to hold her by my side.
“Okay. If you say so.”
“I say so. Douse the light.”
When the length of her rests close to me, I pull the blanket up over our shoulders and wrap my arm around her thin frame. Her back is to me, and her body fits like a glove. God knows I don’t want to become aroused, and it’s a good thing I’m not an eighteen-year-old kid who can’t control himself around a beautiful woman. She wraps my arm tight around her and increases our bond. I don’t have to think things over any longer. I will ask her to come with me in the morning. At least in Virginia City, she’ll have people who will look after her.
~*~*~*~
“You’re not serious, Joe”
“Oh, but I am. I’m very serious.”
I watch her dress for the day. The night went well. She was able to lie down and get a decent night’s sleep. I left her alone as promised, and I will leave her alone on our trip west. If she agrees to come, we’ll have a couple of days to talk things over.
She looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I can’t just up and leave.”
“Why not? It’s a two-day ride, three at the most. I want you to meet my family, my Pa and my brother, Hoss.”
“Why? Why should I leave this place for another dusty town in Nevada?”
“Because there are people who’ll watch over you. No one will beat you or take advantage of your good nature.”
“You don’t know my nature.”
“I know enough.”
“What about my stuff?”
I survey the furnishings and try not to laugh out loud. “How much of this is yours to take?”
“Well, my clothes. You know. All my things.”
“I think we can manage.” Billie paces the small room. I’ve had time to think this through, but it’s all new to her. It’s fresh in her mind, and she needs time to mull. I understand that. “Think I’ll take a walk around town. Get some fresh air.”
“You want company?”
“No. I want you to consider the next few years of your life. I want you to think about the man or men who hurt you. I want you to come with me, and you need time alone to think. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll go.”
I let go of the doorknob and turned to face Billie. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then let’s walk together. We’ll need a few supplies.”
“I need to tell Owen.”
“Your boss?”
“Yeah. Can’t just run out on him.”
“No. That wouldn’t be right.”
“Let’s go then.”
~*~*~*~
We aren’t in a big hurry, and we don’t pack up and leave her room above the saloon until well after nine the following morning. I don’t know what kind of horsewoman Billie might be, so I buy a gentle mare named Betsy from the livery so she won’t have to worry about much of anything. Staying in the saddle should be an easy task. I figure we can make it to Silver Springs before nightfall. I don’t want to push her too hard.
The trail isn’t a bad one. It’s flat and uninteresting, and the Overland Stage line has used this route for years, and if I want to go back to those days when the Pony Express was the most exciting event to ever hit the Utah Territory, I also remember how riding this trail nearly killed me. It was a tough job; one I never want to repeat.
Billie rides like she was born in the saddle. I needn’t have worried about choosing a mount, and if I had a brain in my head, I would’ve asked her if she could ride. Too late now.
My stomach growls. “You getting hungry?”
“Sure. I can eat.”
“See that grove of trees? Let’s head that way and find some shade.”
The horses need a drink, and I’d like to stretch my legs and my side. Doc says I’m healed and good to go, but a knife wound leaves a tender spot that I’m sure I’ll complain about for a while yet. I don’t tell her I’d been shot less than a month ago, and that it’s inches from the slash that Mr. Bowie Knife thought was necessary. No since adding to her worry over my welfare.
She gives me a funny look. “You okay? You feeling poorly?”
“I’m fine. Just need a good stretch, and I’ll be raring to go.”
She busies herself setting out the fried chicken and bread with strawberry jam she bought at the café. I may have a stitch in my side, but after skipping breakfast so we could be on our way, I’m half-starved and will eat everything she places in front of me.
“I have a confession to make, Joe.”
“Oh yeah? And what would that be?”
At first, she hesitates, but once she gets started, I lean in and listen. “My name’s not really Billie. I just used that at Owen’s place.”
“Makes sense to me.”
“It does?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t want people knowing my real name either if I worked in a place like The Lucky Nickel” Billie fought back the tears, and I realized what I said. “I didn’t mean ….”
“Yes, you did.”
Billie stands and walks away from me and my big mouth. God knows why I said such a thing, but I’ll have to make things right, or this will be a helluva long trip back to the Ponderosa. She gazes down the gentle slope at the Carson River, and though it isn’t much to look at, it holds her interest until I come up behind her and rest my hands on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know what it’s like for a woman like me.”
I turn her to face me. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“Then maybe I should explain.”
“Please do.” I take her hand and lead her back to the blanket I laid down for our lunch. When she busies herself picking up the empty tin plates and cups, I stay her hand. “Tell me what it’s like.”
“The war was lost. There were no jobs to be found, and I wanted out. I had no cash, but a man I’d known since I was a young’un took me with him to St. Louis. He wanted a companion, and I agreed to—well, you know.”
“I know.”
“From there, I hitched a ride on a wagon train heading west. Without explaining, you can guess how that went, too. I was passed around from wagon to wagon, but I’ll leave it at that.”
“I wish things had been different for you.”
“Me too, but that’s not all. When we got to Salt Lake, I wasn’t welcome. I wasn’t the right color for a bunch of lily-white men who two-timed their wives by taking on more wives. It didn’t seem much different than the life I’d been leading, but that’s just a matter of opinion.”
I smile but don’t respond.
“Once again, I hooked up with a train headed west and made it as far as the fort. That was about two months ago, and you know the rest.”
“Not quite.”
She gave me a questioning look.
“What’s your real name?”
“Oh.” She chuckles. “Guess I got off track.”
“You might say that.”
“Madelaine Moreau.”
“Madelaine Moreau. Beautiful name.”
“Thank you but call me Mae.”
“Whatever you say.” An odd abbreviation for Madeline, but I wasn’t about to make another stupid comment.
“Why did you get shot?”
“Shot?”
“Don’t play dumb, Joe. You have a fresh wound just above the knife wound. Doc asked me, but I didn’t have a clue.”
“You wouldn’t. It happened nearly a month ago.”
She lay on her side on the blanket and propped herself up on her elbow. “Go on.”
“It’s nothing, really. My family and I were protecting a currency shipment from the mint in San Francisco. I got caught up in the middle and a shot was fired.”
“Why your family?”
“We own a ranch and two men and a buckboard needed to travel across our land. Protecting the money was the least we could do.”
“Your ranch must be big then.”
“Yeah. It’s good sized. Ready to ride?”
She stands and clicks her boot heels together. “Yes, Sir.” She salutes as though we’re playing army and starts up the hill toward her horse.
“Hey. You gonna leave me with this mess?”
~*~*~*~
Though she’s not as dark as some, there’s that Creole hint of color that will give the people in Virginia City a reason to point and stare. Sure, any saloon will take her on. A whore’s a whore. Color doesn’t matter, and most men think they can pay less or nothing at all for a gal like her, but I’ll make sure that if she decides to go that route, that she’s paid like any other. Nothing less will do.
Even though it’s still daylight, we make camp in Silver Springs. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to remove my butt from the saddle. We brought enough food for tonight and a thick slab of bacon for breakfast, but we’ll have to stock up before we head out tomorrow. And if we ride hard, we can make Virginia City before nightfall.
I haven’t said anything else that will upset the applecart, which means that Mae and I are still on speaking terms. With another meal of fried chicken, bread, and jam ahead of us, I let her set the food out while I settle our mounts for the night. Upturned saddles and warm blankets will serve as beds. Tomorrow night, I hope we’ll be able to bed down at the International House.
The night is uneventful and so is the following day. Nothing much to see as we plow ahead and move closer to our destination. I have high hopes of reaching Virginia City in time for supper, so the only supplies we buy are a few slices of beef, a loaf of fresh bread, and some apples. That will get us where we need to go.
By lunchtime, we’re both ready to stretch our legs. While I bend back and forth and from side to side, Mae walks down toward the river, and hoping I hadn’t done something wrong and offended her somehow, I follow.
“Think I’ll cool my feet.”
I’m right behind her, and after she kicks off her boots and stockings, I do the same. The cold water splashes against our bare feet, cool and refreshing, and heals all that ails a man (or woman). Mae leans back on tight, stiff arms, then looks straight at me.
“When I was eleven, my mother sold me to a man named Burke.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “She what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
“Food. Money.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We didn’t have much. I was the oldest and ….”
“And what? It makes no sense.”
“No? You ever go without a meal? A place to sleep? A roof over your head?”
“No.”
“That’s the difference between you and me, Joe.”
“Tell me about this man, Burke. Was he a decent fella?”
“Come on, Joe. You weren’t born yesterday. What do you think he wanted?”
“But you were eleven.”
“Gotta start sometime.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I have to look away. I can only imagine a young girl not knowing what the hell is happening. Without looking at Billie or Mae, or whatever she calls herself, I tell her I’m sorry.
“Oh, Joe. Water under the bridge. That was over ten years ago.”
“I know, but ….”
“I could tell you stories.”
“Yes. I’m sure you could, but I think that’s enough for now.”
After shifting my weight, I scoot next to Mae and put my arm around her. She rests her head on my shoulder and lets her feet flutter in the flowing water. I know there’s more to tell, but hearing everything at once seems wrong somehow.
“Those days are behind you now.”
She chuckles.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are, but you’re wrong, Joe. Once a whore, always a whore.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I’m anxious to prove her wrong. I’ll show her a better life once we’re back on the Ponderosa. Once a whore—not always a whore. Somehow I’ll show her a healthier side of life.
~*~*~*~
We reach Dayton around four or five o’clock in the afternoon, and though we’re both exhausted, we push on up the mountain toward Gold Hill, but then it’s time to stop. Virginia City and the Ponderosa will have to wait until tomorrow. Mae is too tired to go on, and when I pull up at the Gold Hill Hotel, I react to the grateful smile she sends my way.
“Let’s get a room here for the night.”
Her smile is the reassurance I need. I did the right thing, and after grabbing my saddlebags and Mae’s carpetbag, we walk up to the front door, through the lobby, and up to the front desk. I’m not a stranger. Charlie, the manager, has known my family since before he opened the hotel. Pa thought Charlie was a good risk and invested a good sum of money, but Charlie isn’t manning the front desk. A young man, his hair slicked back with a good amount of grease, greets us with a look I didn’t much care for.
“We’ll need two rooms please.”
“Aren’t you a Cartwright?”
“I am. Joe Cartwright.”
“Um … I’m embarrassed to say, Mr. Cartwright, but—”
“Is there a problem?”
The young man cups his hand to his mouth and whispers in my direction only. “The lady, Sir. She can’t stay here.”
I glare at the fool as though he has five eyes. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, but I am, Mr. Cartwright.”
I look around the lobby. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He’s gone out to supper.”
I flop my saddlebags on the counter. “I want a room, and I want it now.”
“It’s a rule, Sir. I can’t let you bring the woman inside.”
Mae turns toward the empty lobby, and I grab her arm.
“No, Joe. Let it go.”
I don’t want to let it go. My father helped Charlie get started, and he’d never go along with sending people away because they aren’t the right color, but when I consider how the Chinese and anyone of color are treated in Virginia City, I realize how naïve I’m being and nod at Mae. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
“I’ll get us something to eat, and we’ll find a place to bed down for the night.”
Mae is silent. She’s way ahead of me in her thinking. No hotel in Gold Hill or Virginia City will let her have a room for the night. I understand that now, and I realize how hard everything will be from now on. I think back on how it was with Julia when we wanted to take in a show at the opera house. Madelaine Moreau won’t have an easy time of things. Julia only had one strike against her. Mae has two—Creole coupled with whore. Does she even stand a chance?
After bedding down halfway between Gold Hill and Virginia City, we wake the following morning and ride straight out to the Ponderosa. I don’t want to deal with townsfolk two days in a row and wonder if Pa might have a fix for the dilemma I’m bringing home.
“You live ‘round here?”
“I sure do. About ten minutes up the road.”
Her eyes dart from left to right and back again. Taking it all in is overwhelming the first time around, and since I’ve lived here all my life, I forget to notice much of anything. Usually, I’m only thinking about getting home, eating a hot meal, and sleeping in my own bed. It’s a shame, really, but if I see the land through Mae’s eyes, I see what she sees and realize what I’m missing.
I point up ahead. “There’s the house.”
If she becomes overwhelmed, we’ll take care of that in no time. It happens sometimes when newcomers first lay eyes on the house and its surroundings. Something else I take for granted. A roof over my head and three meals a day. Not everyone has the luxury of the life I live.
No one hears us ride up. We don’t gallop into the yard like a couple of banshees, and I don’t expect an overwhelming greeting. Though the horses are tired, I tie each of them to the hitchrail for now. Before anything else, I want to get Mae inside and introduced to my family.
When the front door clicks open, it doesn’t take long before Pa rounds the corner from his desk. With his right hand extended and his left reaching for my other arm, he tempers the bear hug when he sees Mae standing by my side.
“I didn’t realize we had company.”
“How could you?” I smile at my father. “I want you to meet Miss Madelaine Moreau. You can call her Mae.”
Pa extends his hand. “Miss Moreau. Welcome to our home.”
“Mae had a little trouble down by Fort Churchill. She’s come up here to make a new start.”
“I wish you well, Miss Moreau.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cartwright.”
Pa turns toward the kitchen and calls for Hop Sing, and he scurries out like always. “Would you show Miss Moreau to the guest room?”
“You come, Missy.” I hand him her carpetbag. “This all?”
“That’s all.”
“You follow Hop Sing. He give you very nice room.”
Mae follows, but she glances over her shoulder as if she’s unsure what’s happening. I give her a nod and quick smile, and that seems to do the trick. I need a minute to explain things to Pa before we go on with the rest of our day. When the lady is out of sight, Pa’s hands fly to his hips and a look of admonishment surfaces.
“I can explain.”
“I’d like to hear.”
I toss my saddlebags and my hat on the credenza and head toward the settee. “I left the horses with Major Benson.”
“Good. Go on.” Pa follows and sits in his overstuffed chair. “And then I went for a beer. You would’ve done the same, right? A cold one?”
Pa nods. “And then?”
“You got the telegram. Thanks for wiring the money.”
“Joseph, please.”
Why do I feel like a fourteen-year-old kid who got caught smoking at the fishing hole? Why do I have to explain myself at all?
“Long story short. I won some money playing poker, and then I got stabbed, and Mae took care of me, and then I brought her home.”
“That’s the abridged version, Joseph. Tell me what really happened.”
After leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. “She needs protection.”
“From whom?”
“She’s a saloon girl, Pa.”
“And you think she’ll do better in Virginia City? You think she’ll have a better life? Do you really think you can save her?”
I stood. “I can try.”
~*~*~*~
Just like the days I lay in Mae’s bed staring at the ceiling, I do it again. With my hands tucked behind my head, I glare at my own ceiling. It’s nicer than hers, but my entire surroundings are nicer than hers. My whole upbringing was more pleasant than Mae’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a throwaway. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve the best life has to offer.
One thing I can say about my father is that he always behaves himself when there’s a guest in the house. He’s always been a gracious host, and none of us have ever shied away from bringing home strays. Hoss is the king of bringing home people and critters in need, and he’s the first to make Mae feel more welcome than anyone else knows how. Pa and Hop Sing do what they always do, but Hoss has a tendency to go overboard with his compliments and kind words. My brother is the best.
Mae laughs. It’s a glorious sound. Hoss is on a roll and since the dinner table is his favorite place in the world, he has the ability to chitchat with our guest between bites of cornbread and fried chops. Hop Sing is over attentive, and Pa and I can sit back and relax. We’re entertained as we watch the show.
“I think I’ll drive Mae around the ranch tomorrow.”
Pa glances at our guest. “I think she’ll like that, Son.”
“I want to show her sights she’s never seen.”
Hoss looks across the table and winks at Mae. “There’s plenty of them sights to see, Miss Mae. You make sure my young brother does a proper job of taking you everywhere you want to go.”
This is all new for Mae. Family isn’t something she knows how to react to, but seeing her smile does my heart good. We’ll wake up tomorrow, eat breakfast, and head out to see the highlights. It’ll take weeks to see the entire Ponderosa but tomorrow will be a good start.
Pa stops me before I turn in. “How’s that wound? I’d like you to see Paul and have him check it out.”
“It’s healed, Pa. I had a decent doc down by the fort.”
“How’s the bullet wound?”
“A thing of the past.”
“You take too many chances, Joe.”
“Oh, come on, Pa. Neither of those two was my fault.”
“Well—”
“You think I asked to be shot? Stabbed?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying, then?”
“Just be careful.”
My father wasn’t with me at the fort. He doesn’t like to be away from a son who’s hurt, and his comments aren’t meant to be harsh. He’s not mad, just concerned for my welfare. I lay my hand on Pa’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
~*~*~*~
After riding more than two hours, it’s time to get out of the buggy and walk a bit. The lake glistens ahead of us, and if I’m out to impress, the lake will do it every time. No words are needed. It isn’t but a minute later that Mae takes it all in. From the north shore to the south, she scans the length of Tahoe and shakes her head. “My goodness.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“I have no words.”
“A bit different than the bayous of Louisiana.”
Mae chuckles, but her eyes remain fixed on the beauty before her. “Is the water warm?”
“No. It’s freezing.”
“Can I try it out?”
“Let’s go.”
I take Mae’s hand in mine and we walk down the gentle slope that leads to the sandy beach below. Boulders jut up along the shoreline, and Mae even giggles at the uncanny difference between her home and mine. Everything about Nevada contradicts her life in the south.
“How long did you live down by the fort?”
“Almost two months.”
“Somehow, I thought you’d been there longer.”
“No. A new arrival.”
“That’s right. I forgot.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“I dragged you away before you had a chance to get used to things.”
Mae squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you did, Joe. I didn’t have much of a future working on the outskirts of an army fort. Everyone’s a transient. No one cares.
“Things will be better here. You’ll see.”
When we find a flattened-out rock to sit on, we take a breather. The altitude is foreign to her, and by the sound of her labored breathing, her lungs are ready to burst. In a day or two she’ll be fine, but we’ll pace ourselves today.
“I spent most of my young life on the bayou, in lagoons and marshes. Searching out crawfish was my daily routine. Mama and Lydia and I ate crawfish nearly every day of my life.”
“Lydia?”
“My sister, but she died. Was drowned in the marsh.”
Should I ask or let it go? I’m never sure with Mae. She starts stories, but they end too soon. I learn a little, but not a lot.
“She was older than me, but still a kid. I miss her, Joe. We had good times before … that day. All that’s left in that marsh is the yellow pine dust that covers stale, muddy water that never moves, but you’re lucky, Joe.”
“Me?”
“You still have your brother.”
“I agree. I’m a lucky fella. I’d be lost without him, but you can’t leave it at that, Mae. You can’t leave me hanging.”
“You already know the rest. He should’ve been hung for what he done to her. He should’ve been strung up by the ….” I don’t want to think the worst, but Mae led me down a path that I’ll never get out of my mind. “He was worse than Silas Burke. He didn’t ask. He just took, and when he got all he wanted, he kilt her.”
Gazing across the lake gave me time to absorb all that happened to a young, dark-skinned girl caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. What’s wrong with men who think they can take advantage and then walk away like nothing ever happened. How much should I tell Pa and Hoss? How much do they need to know?
~*~*~*~
After three days of traveling around the Ponderosa, of Hoss saying all the right things, and of feeling a little more comfortable around my family, it’s time to take Mae to Virginia City and see the sights there. Even though there are hundreds of saloons and a number of bordellos—and of course she’s dead set on continuing in that profession—there are only two or three owners I trust to keep a girl like Mae safe.
If she’ll only let me show her another way to live. She stops the conversation as soon as she feels any pressure at all. Last night, I lay in bed and tried to think of a way to convince her that just because her skin is darker than most, it didn’t mean she had to take the lowest job there is.
But that’s not all I think about when I’m alone. Turning off the feelings I have for Mae is difficult. I find her one of the most appealing women I’ve ever met. Besides her obvious beauty, she’s kind and considerate and knows how to laugh a good laugh. She’s everything I look for in a woman except that one obvious problem, a problem that can’t be solved.
And so I have to look the other way, hide my feelings from Mae, the family, and everyone we come in contact with. I have to remain friends with a woman I care for more than any other. It’s the way things are and always will be. If I were to marry the girl, we’d be arrested and thrown in prison. I know that, and Pa worries. He knows me well.
~*~*~*~
Once Pa and Hoss leave for town, Mae takes my hand, pulls me into the living room, and pushes me down on the settee. She nearly sits on top of me then takes my hand in hers. She’s found her serious look and wears it like a tintype I once saw of Queen Victoria.
“I’m ready to get back to work, Joe.”
I knew this was coming and I tried to put her off, but that was easier said than done. “I thought we’d take another drive, you know—”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“You’re welcome to stay a bit longer, rest and—”
“No. I ain’t gonna take advantage of your family’s kindness any longer. It’s time I get back to what I do best.”
I hate when she says those things, but I let it go. “Why the rush? Don’t you like it here?”
“Don’t be silly. Who wouldn’t like a place like this, but it ain’t my home. It’s your home.”
“I know, and I understand what you’re saying, but if you wait a little while longer—”
“Will you drive me into town?”
I won’t show my disappointment. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
On our last trip to town, she let me buy her a couple of calico dresses, beige stockings, and new pair of shiny black boots. The clothing won’t be fit for any saloon, but she will have something to wear on her days off. She won’t need a place to live. Rooms line the second floor of the saloons for women who deliver drinks and whatever else a man desires. I wonder if she still has the ten-spot I gave her the night she saved my life. When I think back, it seems like a lifetime ago.
Although Pa resists, I pay him back the one-hundred dollars. It isn’t his fault I got caught up in a poker game I shouldn’t have. That night changed a lot of things I’d like to forget. I have a constant twitch in my side, and I have feelings for Mae. I need to get rid of both.
“I’ll hitch the team.”
As we drive down C Street, there isn’t the sound of music or gaiety coming from any of the saloons. Nothing but freight wagons crowd the street with supplies for farmers, ranchers, and miners. By lunchtime, the shelves of every mercantile, hardware store, and ladies boutique will be restocked and ready for the week ahead.
My first stop is the Bucket of Blood. Sam is a good guy and watches out for his employees. I can trust him to take care of Mae. I pull the buggy up in front of the saloon. “This look okay?”
“Fine by me, Joe.”
“Stay here. Let me see if Sam’s hiring.”
Mae flops her hands across her lap. She doesn’t want to wait, but that’s too bad. She’ll do what I say this time. Sam stands behind the bar wiping water spots off his shot glasses, but he takes time to look up and call out my name.
“Hey, Little Joe. What brings you in so early?”
I lean both elbows on the bar. “I have a friend. She needs a job.”
Sam looks toward the batwings. “She with you?”
“I left her outside. There’s one other thing.”
Sam lowers his voice. “She uglier than sin?”
“No, not at all. In fact, she’s beautiful. She’s also Creole.”
“A darkie?”
“You could say that.”
“I ain’t hired no darkie before.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“I don’t know, Little Joe.”
“Here’s the deal, Sam. She needs to work where she’ll be protected.”
“What?”
“You know. From men who take advantage of her color. That’s why I brought her here first. You’re a decent fella and, well ….”
Sam sighs overloud. “Okay. Bring her in. Let me take a look.”
I walk to the batwings and motion Mae to come inside. “He’s ready to see you now.”
“Don’t forget my name’s Billie.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Billie.” I tip my hat and she rolls her eyes, and when all the fooling around is complete, I take hold of her carpetbag and introduce her to the owner.
“Sam. I’d like you to meet Billie.”
“You got a last name, Miss?”
“No, Sir. Billie will do. fine”
The wheels are turning in Sam’s head. He circles Mae as though she’s a piece of art, not a girl who needs a job in a local saloon. I set her bag on the floor, cross my arms, and work my lips from side to side. Every day with Mae, I realize more and more. It doesn’t occur to me that Sam or anyone else will reject her. Am I that stupid? This has gone on long enough.
“Well?”
“I’ll hire her.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
Mae gives me a funny look, but lately, I’m good at saying the wrong thing.
“Alma will be in shortly, and she’ll show you were things are kept. Dresses and shoes and such. I’ll take the cost of the costume out of your first week’s check. Sam reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a key. Room 4, top of the stairs.”
Mae gives me a look that tells me she’s not as sure about things as she pretends to be. “Guess I’ll go check out my room, Joe.”
“Want company?”
“No. You can go.”
I don’t want to go. I don’t want her to stay, but it’s the way of things, and I need to get used to the idea. She’s a big girl, she’s chosen this way of life, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
There was no “See you later,” or “Thanks for everything, Joe. With carpetbag in hand, Mae marches up to her new room and never turns around to say goodbye.
~*~*~*~
After Pa and I argue about the merits of riding to town on Mae’s first night of work, I find a tactic that will appease. Pa knows how I feel about Mae, but if I take Hoss with me, we’ll find a table near the rear of the saloon, drink a couple of beers, and I won’t have direct contact with a girl Pa wishes I’d never met.
“We won’t be late, Pa.”
Holding a match to his tobacco-filled pipe, Pa gives me a sideways glance but prefers not to acknowledge my departing words. He isn’t happy with me, but I’m not a kid he can lock in my room. In the past two months, I’ve survived a gunshot wound and a stabbing. I think I can handle a night in the saloon with a woman I find desirable but out of reach.
My brother is the first to the bar. “Two beers, Sam.”
He doesn’t waste any time. The saloon is nearly full, and I scan the room for Mae before searching for a table. I don’t see her, but that doesn’t mean much. I’m sure she’ll show up in a minute or two.
When Sam slides the mugs down to Hoss, my brother hands me one and we mosey over to an empty table between the stairs and the piano. No one is playing now, but later on, when the place is packed, the room will come alive. Music will fill the room, cards will be shuffled and dealt, and spilled beer will all be part of the ambiance of a Saturday night in town.
Hoss and I look for Mae, but after finishing two beers, I stand and squeeze through the crowded saloon and up to the bar. Sam knows why I’ve come and he speaks plainly.
“She’s gone.”
“She’s what?”
“I thought the news might come easier after a couple of beers.”
I’m dumbfounded. “When did she leave?”
“Right after you did. The westbound stage left town at noon. She planned to be on it.” Though I nod my head, I’m not believing. “Wait, Joe. She left you a note.” The bartender reaches inside his shirt pocket and hands me a folded piece of paper. He draws two beers. “On the house.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
I carry the paper and the beers back to the table. Hoss is appreciative until he sees the look on my face and questions what’s written on the paper. I hand it to him. The writing is childlike, but there’s no mistaking the words.
Dearest Joe,
“Thanks for the five-hundred dollars.”
Mae
~*~*~*~
Hoss and I return home before Pa’s gone up to bed. After getting the news, we leave the saloon and ride home. My father’s surprised to see us, sets his book on the arm of the chair, and stands up.
“I’ll get the brandy,” Hoss says.
I move further into the room and sit down on the settee, but before he has a chance to question me, I prop my elbows on my knees and drop my head in my hands. My father wasn’t born yesterday and knows something is wrong.
“What happened, Son?”
When I look up, Hoss hands me and Pa a brandy, and after downing the shot, I let the story fly. “She made a fool of me.” I wonder if Pa suspected I’d say this at some point.
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“Don’t be. I was a fool to think I could ….”
Pa sat down in his chair but leaned my way. “You thought you could help her.”
“That’s the least of it, Pa.”
“What’s that mean?”
Nothing is more embarrassing than admitting the truth. Even though I’m unaware until now, how naïve can a man be? “She had me robbed in that alley. She knew I won that final pot and had me robbed.”
“What about the men who attacked you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m sure they’ve left Nevada by now. No telling where they might be.”
“You tried your best, Son.”
“That’s right, Joseph. Ain’t nothin’ more you could’ve done for that little gal.”
I lean against the back of the settee. “She took the stage west.”
“With your five-hundred dollars.”
“That about sums it up. It won’t be long, and she’ll find another sucker to dupe.”
“Let it go, Joe. You did your best.”
“Yeah. That’s not much comfort to me now.”
Pa stands from his chair. “I’m for bed.”
Hoss sets his empty glass on the table. “Me too. You comin’, Joe?”
“I’ll be up in a while.”
I don’t have to look up to know that Hoss and Pa are worried and would rather I go upstairs with them, but I need a few minutes alone.
~*~*~*~
The following morning, Hoss and I ride out to the north pasture. Getting back to running the ranch is a nice change from the last month and all that’s happened. The routine of everyday chores takes my mind off of Mae and the fool I’ve been. Stopping in for a cold beer after I delivered the three mounts was the worst thing I could’ve done, but it was only natural. That’s what men do. A beer and a hand of poker. Nothing new or strange about sitting back and relaxing after a long ride.
Next week we begin round-up, and two weeks after that, we drive our steers up to the railhead—a short ride—but variation is the spice of life. Jack and Walt brought in seven new mustangs while I was away. Life goes on. The ranch is prosperous because we never slack off. We’re busy from sunup till sundown most days, and we’re all proud of what we’ve achieved.
I hope Mae finds what she’s looking for, and I hope that wherever she decides to call home will treat her with the respect she deserves, but I’m only kidding myself. She’ll never be treated right. That’s a dream I need to let go of and ignore any feelings I ever had about Miss Madelaine Moreau.
~*~*~*~
“Let’s ride.”
Pa sits this one out. He’s bossed enough trail drives that he could move five thousand head of cattle in his sleep but chooses not to. Hoss passes the job onto me, and I’ll do my best to make my father proud.
We’re hauling nearly twenty-five hundred fat steers up to the railhead in Reno to be shipped to Chicago. Our remaining stock will be sold to feed the miners of Storey County. The days of extended drives are over. The railroad has made our job simple.
Between Hoss and me, we hire five drovers to help us keep the cattle in line, and if all goes well, the men will get a bonus at the end of the drive. We head out early and hope to hit the stockyard by nightfall tomorrow. If not, we’ll have to spend two nights on the trail. I will survive, but Hoss will bitch and moan until sleep takes him.
Mae is on my mind less and less, but until that recurring stab of pain in my side is resolved, I’ll always be reminded. I never asked her for details, whether the stabbing was planned or if robbery was her only intention. Were the two men supposed to take the money and run, or is there more to the story? Did she want me dead? I’ll never know, but will the questions ever go away?
We’re on a roll. We make great time the first day and by the end of day two, we pull up in front of The Nevada Meat Company. Once the cattle are pinned—no exact count is needed—the Cartwright name is reputable, and the figure I give Augustus Simms is the number I’ll be paid for. I pay my drovers and send them on their way.
Hoss and I are free for the night, but we have choices. We can get a room at Lake’s Crossing Inn, have dinner and a few drinks, or we can head for home. Since we’ve been in the saddle all day, we spend the night in Reno.
Once the horses are stabled for the night, we grab our saddlebags and head for the hotel. After the room is booked, we ask the clerk, “Where’s the best place to eat?” He tells us that the chef at the Merchants Exchange cooks the best steaks in town, and that’s what we want to hear.
Without horses, Hoss and I decide to walk. After sitting a saddle for two days, it seems like a reasonable thing to do. We pass the far end of the red-light district on the way, and my mind goes straight to Mae. Where does she call home? Placerville? Sacramento? San Francisco? Five-hundred dollars will take a girl wherever she wants to go. Europe. China. Australia. She could call home anywhere in the world.
Hoss points to a large brick building. “Up ahead.”
“Good. I’m starved.”
“You ain’t alone, Little Brother.”
Though the restaurant is crowded with cowboys and miners alike, the waiter finds an empty table for Hoss and me, and in no time, two cold beers are placed in front of us. Big brother doesn’t disappoint, and after three steaks and all the fixin’s, Hoss is full and ready for a good night’s sleep. He pats his belly. “Ready to go? “I need to walk some of this off.”
The look I give my brother isn’t foreign. I’m used to his ginormous appetite, and I’m used to everything that comes with it. I’m ready for a brisk walk back to the hotel myself.
“Pay the man and let’s go.”
“Me?”
“You ate the most. Mine was more like a side dish.”
“Guess you’re right, Joe.”
“Yeah.”
I’m stuffed, and the cool fresh breeze feels good against my face. Except for the constant stench of a stockyard, a man’s senses search for anything else besides a slaughterhouse smell. I’ll admit that our steaks were fresh, but at what cost? The second scent wafting toward us is the smell of a cheroot, another remembrance of Mae.
Hoss doesn’t know that my mind whirls around a woman I can’t have. As much as I try, she’s there in daylight hours and every evening when I lie in bed, eyes wide open. Her face shines, and the wildness of her black, corkscrewed hair makes me want to run my fingers over every strand. The length of her slender frame tucked tight against mine sets my entire body on fire.
“Guess we should get an early start, Joseph.”
“Surely, you don’t want to skip breakfast.”
“No, not that early. After breakfast.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Again, the cheroot, and I turn my head in the direction of the lingering smoke. In the darkness of night, it’s hard to see a darn thing, but then I see something as familiar as the back of my hand. After ditching the calicos, the soft colored dress and odd-shaped hat are an ensemble I won’t soon forget, but why is she wearing those clothes? Why is she here? Out of all the intriguing locations this country has to offer, I can’t imagine anyone picking Reno.
“You go on ahead, Brother.”
“Why? What’s up?”
I look to my left. Hoss turns too. He sees what I see. “I won’t be long.”
“You best not, Joe. That woman’s trouble.”
“I know.”
When I start her way, she tries to run, but I’m fast, always have been. I grab hold of her arm and twirl her around to face me. Her cheroot flies. She freezes and stares up at her captor. I wait for one of us to utter those first words, but I’m as speechless as she is.
“Joe.”
I let go of her arm. “Mae.”
“I thought you’d be farther away by now.”
She chuckles.
“You could’ve gone anywhere. Why here? Why Reno?”
She turns her back. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? I don’t care about the money. The five hundred is yours to spend as you see fit.”
Again, the chuckle. “I don’t have your money, Joe.”
I turn her to face me. “What?”
“I never took your money, and I don’t know the men who did.”
“Why did you …?”
“Because.”
“I’m a bit unclear.”
Mae’s eyes harden. They shoot fire in my direction, and I want to back off, but then her words come, and I do everything in my power not to break down, take her in my arms, and keep her beside me forever.
“I knew how you felt about me, and I knew it could never be. I felt the same, and I had to keep backing away. No one’s ever loved me before. No one’s ever taken the time to treat me like a human being before, but when I saw the look in your father’s eyes, when I saw the concern, I remembered who I was. I had to say something to hurt you.”
“And?”
“I needed you to hate me.”
I take Mae in my arms. It’s wrong. Every time I touch her, it’s wrong. And though we’ve never made love and never will, I’d give anything I own to change how the world goes round and how the decision makers feel that it’s wrong for us to be together. I want to hold her forever.
~*~*~*~
I’m not surprised to find Hoss waiting up. He’s taken on the role of Pa, sits in an overstuffed chair with a half-full bottle of whiskey, and is curious. The relief in his eyes is obvious. I don’t disappoint. I don’t stay the night with Mae or run off to some foreign land where we could live happily ever after.
“I’m glad you came back.”
I nod but have no words. After loosening my gun belt and tossing my hat on the nearest table, I flop down in the only other chair in the room. Hoss isn’t one for speeches. He’s said his piece and that’s the end of things.
Tomorrow morning, we’ll pack up, eat breakfast, and start for home. Tonight will be over and forgotten. Routine is the key. Mae will go back to work and so will I. Pa will be glad to see us and glad when I deposit the draft from the drive in the bank.
Life is never perfect, but our lives will go on. Mae never had a family, and it saddens me that she fights the ups and downs of living all alone. Even at my age, my family will help me heal. It’s always been that way and it always will. We help each other. We get through the good and the bad together. It’s a good life.
The End
11-2026
