Page 28

Catching Up with the Past

Charlotte wrung out the excess water before applying the cloth to the angry red welts and bruises covering the side of Prue’s swollen face.

She had performed the routine countless times in the past two hours.

Prue’s split lip and barely open black eye were a testament to the brutal beating she had suffered.

It turned out, her attacker hadn’t only struck her once, as she initially believed, but repeatedly. Despite the relentless assault, Prue had battled back. It had probably bought her enough time for the rescue.

When the cool, wet cloth touched her tender skin, and she winced, Charlotte regretted her aim wasn’t better. Two inches higher would have rendered him useless and reduced the risk to other women.

News of the incident had spread quickly.

Everyone who worked at the Red Eye, upstairs and down, dropped into check onPrue.

Several of the girls offered to sit with her for a spell.

But two incidents in the first two hours of the evening had put Fenton in a foul mood.

Losing two working girls on their busiest night would make things worse.

Charlotte had expressed her gratitude but sent them on their way, resolved to remain with Prue through the night, facing the wrath of Fen, who didn’t like her absence from the floor, if she had to.

It didn’t come to that, fortunately. After supper, with the kitchen closed for the night, their cook came to spell her.

Charlotte got up so the other older woman could sit by the bed. “Thank you, Molly.”

“There’s no need for thanks. Most of us have been where Prue is at some point.”

Her heart was heavy as she moved to the door because, sadly, this was true—physical abuse was commonplace in their line of work.

Ten years ago, when she and Fen arrived in Laramie and took overthe Bucket ofBlood—the owner didn’t have the money for a new sign and kept the original awful name, believe it or not—Molly was working upstairs.

Five years later, with her hair more gray than brunette and her figure no longer as firm as in her youth, she couldn’t compete with the younger girls and fell out of favor with the customers.

Fortunately, she could cook, and they needed one.

It meant moving from upstairs to a converted storage room off the kitchen, half the size of what she had, but the poor woman would have been homeless otherwise.

It worked out for Molly, who seemed at home in the kitchen.

That wasn’t the case for the others who had left the saloon.

Charlotte tried to assist in finding them work when it was their time to move, but it wasn’t easy.

Most took service positions, working in the bathhouses or doing laundry, but there weren’t enough jobs for former saloon girls to go around.

No respectable business wanted a whore working for them, and the families who could afford household help wouldn’t think of inviting one into their home.

The splash of water stopped Charlotte with her hand on the door latch.

She glanced back at the two women. Molly re-wetted the cloth and whispered reassuringly as she laid it on Prue’s injured cheek.

In that quiet moment, a shiver swept through her.

They represented the hardships faced by the women of Sixth Street, but more so, were a glimpse into her past and, without the Red Eye, her future.

Charlotte refused to let that happen. The reason she’d agreed to Fen’s far-fetched Wild West plan to begin with, was to avoid ending up like Molly—used up and callously cast aside before she was forty.

Having partial ownership in the saloon provided her with a sense of security, but she’d been robbed of her future before.

“Are you all right, Miss Charlotte?”

Her head snapped up at her name. “What was that, Molly?”

“You’re pale and have been staring at the door for a while. I thought you might be ill.”

Charlotte shook her head as much to clear her thoughts as to reassure Molly. “I’m just distracted and angry. That should never have happened to Prue. I’m off to find Fenton and ask what he plans to do to keep it from occurring again.”

“Don’t cross Mr. Sneed, Miss Charlotte,”the injured young woman called anxiously.

“Don’t fret. Fenton is as angry as we are about this.”

Her claim was a guess. She hadn’t seen him since the incident.

Despite being rough around the edges, and having an explosive temper at times, deep down, he was a decent man and cared about the people in their employ.

They paid men to protect the staff and property for this specific reason.

Someone had fallen asleep at the switch, and Prue suffered because of their mistake.

“Thank you again for what you did,”Prue said before Molly covered her face with a fresh, cool wet cloth.

In the hall, Charlotte leaned against the wall to collect herself.

With the saloon teeming with staff and eager customers, a private moment was nearly impossible to find.

Proving her point, the door to Fenton’s room at the end of the hall swung open.

Serena, a new girl, at least ten years her junior, stepped out.

When she spotted Charlotte, her crimson lips curled up in a smile.

She’d been with them almost a month, but in that time, she hadn’t learned that cozying up to Fen, hoping to become the Red Eye’s next madam, was hardly a novel idea.

In his forties, Fen had a healthy appetite for women, but foremost, he was a businessman, shrewd and successful. Although faithfulness to any woman had never been his strong suit, he remained devoted to his bank account and a partner, who had consistently helped him maintain a healthy balance.

Charlotte straightened from the wall, waiting for Serena to pass before heading for Fenton’s room.

“He’s not in there,”Serena called after her. “He left me to enjoy his glorious copper tub while he went downstairs to see to things.”

“How nice for you,”Charlotte replied with palpable sarcasm before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs.

Attempts to make her jealous by any of the countless ambitious girls who had come and gone were futile.

She’d become immune to his philandering ways years ago.

But it was her soaking tub, hauled by Fen all the way from New Orleans as a birthday gift.

It was a luxury and took up half her room, so they kept it in his without argument, making her believe he’d gotten it as much for himself.

She had invited the other girls to use it whenever they liked—as long as it didn’t inconvenience Fen.

But learning smug Serena had taken advantage of it set her teeth on edge.

She’d add this grievance to her ever-growing list.

“You should be nicer to him,”the younger woman advised. “Decent men are rare, especially out here on the dusty frontier. Working girls like us have to appreciate one if we come across him, flaws and all.”

Charlotte halted and turned, incensed by a twenty-two-year-old giving her advice. Slowly, she retraced her steps.

“You and I have a different definition of decent,”Charlotte stated with uncharacteristic rancor in her tone. “I’m sure Fenton was fun to play with, but he’s not knownto pay forsomething offered for free.”

She moved forward, not stopping until she was toe to toe with Serena, and the smugness faded from her face. Even six inches shorter, Charlotte could intimidate when she saw the need.

“Here’s my advice, dear. Giving it away won’t pay your rent or put food in your mouth.

And as rare a breed as you think he is, Fenton Sneed isn’t the benevolent type.

If you’d like to keep your position, your comfy bed, and a generous portion of what paying customers come here seeking, you should probably get downstairs and earn your keep. ”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, as she turned to hurry away. She’d taken several steps when she spun back, the distance bolstering her courage. “I wanted to work here because of everything you mentioned, and your reputation for fairness.”

The compliment, while unexpected, was nice to hear. Finding Heloise’s cruelty unbearable, Charlotte set out to become like Elise—compassionate and just in her dealings with the women in her employ.

Initially, Fen had been skeptical of the changes she put in place that set them apart from their competitors.

Instead of the bare minimum—a pittance in pay, a basic room (sometimes still a tent in Laramie), and barely enough food—under her management, the Red Eye offered decent wages and the hope of a better future.

Their reputation spread, and women flocked from nearby towns and as far away as Denver and Salt Lake to work for her and Fen. Well, mostly her.

The trade had existed for ages and would continue until women had better choices. As long as she ensured safety, cleanliness, and as much choice and dignity as possible, she could sleep at night.

While not as elegant as Elise’s parlor house, the Red Eye was a vast improvement from what most working girls were used to. Many stayed long term, while others moved on when able. Others saved enough to leave that life; some even married.

The saddest truth? For every woman who left, a dozen more waited to take her place.

Given her history of abrasive remarks, Serena’s next comment wasn’t unexpected. “I was also warned you could be a bitch when crossed. Surprise, surprise, the rumors are true.”

“I’ve been called much worse in my day,”Charlotte replied, more amused than offended. Serena hadn’t seen a bitch until she met Heloise. “While I try to be fair, I have a business to run. I’m also a pragmatist. Do you know what that means?”

The younger woman shook her head as expected. She had little schooling and had never learned to read.