Page 10 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 10

The queen of Rock Springs

Wednesday afternoon found Victoria covered in dust and soot, sleeves pushed back, hair unkempt, and both hands in the innards of the piano. The thing, a decent instrument that only had minor damage from the fire, had been graciously delivered at her door by the townspeople as soon as they learned she could play. They would have to be patient, because despite her best efforts, it was horribly out of tune.

She had to make do with a tiny pair of pliers borrowed from Paul, and pieces of a rubber band to isolate the strings, but it was far from enough. She twisted another pin and pressed a key. It rang, terrible and distorted, through the silent house.

“Curse this devil’s instrument!” She slammed both hands on the keyboard, making a loud and unpleasant sound.

“Is this a bad time?”

Natane was standing at the door.

Victoria quickly fixed her hair, very conscious of her unkempt state. “Oh! Natane! Good afternoon! I did not know you would be in town, today!”

“I came to drop James off,” she gestured to the young man next to her. “He was helping at the farm.”

“Hello, James! Please, do come in, both of you.”

James walked past her and stood in front of the piano, eyes wide.

“Have you been playing?” asked Natane.

Victoria scrunched her nose. “Not by any definition of playing. I’ve been trying to tune it.”

Siobhan’s voice came from the kitchen. “She’s been failing to tune it!”

And Lisette’s, from her bedroom. “For hours!”

Consuelo’s, from the back, “It’s torture!”

Victoria scoffed and lowered her sleeves, making sure to button them. She felt very naked, all of a sudden. “I told them it would take weeks to get the right tools delivered, but they insisted I try. There’s only so much I can do with farm tools.”

Natane looked hesitant. “This reminds me, I wanted to ask you something.”

A discordant note interrupted her. James, still holding the key down, giggled.

“I’m glad at least someone can appreciate the sound,” grimaced Victoria. “Do you like the piano, James?”

He pressed the same key and giggled again. Victoria approached slowly.

“Look,” she said, and played a chord. The sound was horrible, but James gasped in delight. “Do you know the alphabet, James? Your ABC’s?”

He recited the entire alphabet in a single breath.

“Good!” said Victoria after he finished. “Well, the keys are called the same. Look. That’s A,” she pressed it. “This is B, then C.” She finished the scale. “You try it.”

He was almost vibrating with excitement. He did the entire scale, reciting the notes, nodding at each one. When he finished, he started over. After the third time, Victoria grabbed him a chair.

Consuelo popped her head in. “This is very sweet, but it’s still out of tune. Is this going to last long?”

“Let him have some fun,” scolded Victoria. “James?”

“I’m playing the piano,” he mumbled, doing the scale again.

“Yes, you are very good. You can play for ten minutes, alright?”

He nodded and replayed the scale.

“If this is going to be a thing, I need to get my hands on some tuning tools as soon as possible,” sighed Victoria. “I’ll place the order today.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this,” said Natane, taking off her hat.

“You wanted to talk to me about piano tuning?”

“Ah, no. It’s, huh, something else.”

“Oh,” said Victoria, a bit flustered. “Let’s go outside. The girls can be such gossips.”

“We are not !” shouted Lisette from her room.

They stepped out to the porch. The weather was getting warmer, a rare lack of wind making the sun feel heavy. The few people milling around waved at them, trying to catch a glimpse of the piano through the open door.

Victoria fiddled with her cuff buttons. “So!” she started with too much enthusiasm. “How have you been?”

“Good. I was showing James how to take care of the farm while I’m gone.”

“You’re leaving?”

“For a fortnight, at the most. My family needs a mechanical plow. I’m going to Salt Lake City.”

Victoria took a step back. “Salt Lake?”

“Yes. The plough they chose is not available in Rock Springs.”

“Surely they have farm equipment closer to here? The city is five days away!”

Natane sighed. “It’s been a whole ordeal. They’ve been debating about this for months. Half the tribe wants to keep travelling and hunting, the other half wants to start working the fields. They also debated on where to spend the tribe’s money, and selecting a plow out of a catalogue took three weeks. I would rather make the trip than raise the question before the elders again.”

Victoria blinked. It was rare to see Natane speak so much at once. Her face was fond and exasperated at the same time.

“Anyway,” said Natane, “I didn’t come to complain about the elders. I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me. To Salt Lake.”

Victoria stood there, rooted on the spot.

Natane went on. “In case you wished to get some of your things back. Or get new ones. Or you can just give me a list.”

Victoria meant to say no. There was a very loud part of her that screamed to hide in her room. The sole possibility of returning to Salt Lake was terrifying.

And yet, she wanted her possessions back. Henry’s portrait, over the mantel. Her mother’s delicate china set. Her father’s bible, well worn, buried for years in her bedside drawer. Suddenly, she wanted everything back. Her books, her comfortable clothes, her soaps and lotions. She wanted to bring back every pretty thing she ever owned and shower the girls in ribbons and lace.

But mostly, louder than anything else, was the hope that maybe, this time, there would be a letter from Henry waiting for her.

After fifteen years of silence, it was foolish to think a letter would have arrived in her absence, but there was a chance.

“If I go to the manor,” she breathed, “would you be there with me?”

“Of course.”

Victoria looked at the road. She was terrified.

“I’ll go.”

*

They left at the end of the week. The girls had been worried and effusive in their goodbyes. Lisette was convinced she would be tempted to stay by the glamour of the city. There were tears.

They finally managed to free themselves and left the town without fanfare. Natane’s buggy was smaller than David’s schooner, an uncovered wagon made for farm work rather than long journeys. Natane assured her that it wouldn’t be a problem.

“I used to do the trip with Sebastian.” She pointed at the merchandise they were carrying. Blankets, clothes, shoes, all made by the Shoshone tribe. “We usually sell these at Rock Springs, but we can get double in Salt Lake. Sometimes it’s worth the voyage.”

Victoria caressed the folded blanket at the top of the pile. “I remember a couple years ago, there was a fashion craze about these. Everyone had to have one, they were almost impossible to find.”

Natane glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “And did you get one?”

“Ha, no,” she chuckled. “Fashion is a young people’s game, and, well, Earl did not appreciate the art.” Her face went grim. “His loss. Those patterns are beautiful.”

“My mother made this one.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. She makes wonderful things. Her necklaces and embroidered shoes are great, but her blankets are, by far, her best work. Even I only got the one.”

“No?”

“She made it for my wedding,” she shrugged. “It lasted thirty years and will probably last thirty more. The colours are faded, though, but it’s still good.” She caught Victoria’s eye. “I wouldn’t hope too much, it takes her months to make one, and her eyesight is getting worse.”

Victoria sighed. “Alas, I shall forever remain blanket-less.”

Despite the terror waiting at the end of the line, Victoria was having fun. Talking with Natane was so easy, even more now when they were alone. Looking back, her first impression could not be farther from the truth. She had found Natane mysterious and intimidating when in reality the woman was simply awkward. Most of the time, she had no idea what to say in social situations, so she said nothing. That was probably why everyone in town thought her aloof and distant.

Their loss, thought Victoria, basking in her relaxed smile.

They were halfway to Wamsutter when Natane tensed. She was staring at the distance.

“My dear?” asked Victoria, suddenly afraid.

“I thought I saw…” Natane handed her the reins and grabbed her rifle. “Keep the same pace,” she murmured, still looking at the horizon. “It might be nothing.”

“And what if it’s not?”

Natane’s expression was grim. “Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.”

They travelled in silence. Natane kept her eyes on the horizon, rifle on her lap.

Victoria was shaking. “What was it you saw?”

“Just movement, nothing specific. But I don’t want to take any chances. Sometimes there are bandits on this road.”

At Victoria’s whimper, she placed a hand on her shoulder. “No one’s seen any this far north, not for years. They usually stay on the main road.”

“Have you ever been robbed?”

Natane grimaced. “Once. I was travelling with Sebastian and he managed to talk them into just taking the money and letting us leave with the cart. We were very lucky.” She rummaged in her bag and passed her a gun. “Keep this with you.”

“I don’t know how to shoot!”

“I’ll show you, when we come back,” she muttered distractedly.

Victoria stared at the revolver in her hand. She knew little of guns, but even she could recognize the Colt logo. It was smaller than most pistols, fitting in her grip in a way that felt too comfortable for her taste. There, on the worn wood of the handle, were scratched the letters S.D.

They travelled south in a tense silence. Eventually, the shapes at the horizon disappeared and they could breathe again.

It was with great relief that they reached Wamsutter. The farmers rented them the barn for a night, asking way too much for what amounted to a pile of straw and a blanket. The doors could be locked from the inside, though, a luxury they could not refuse. They did not sleep much.

“We should be good,” said Natane at breakfast, munching through a hard biscuit. “The main route is usually safe.”

Victoria wanted to believe her. Sadly, the brightness of their adventure was drenched in the familiar nausea of fear. There was little comfort in the gun now holstered at her belt.

They went back on the road.

*

The second day was gentler on them, with a grey sky and a brisk wind. They made good time and reached Rock Springs early in the evening. Victoria was surprised at the noise. It was nothing compared to the constant sound of construction in Salt Lake, but after weeks in the silence of Swainsburg, it felt cacophonous.

She dug into her bag and retrieved a sealed letter. “We need to stop somewhere, Consuelo asked me to deliver this.”

The address led them to a brick building, its two stories towering over the rest of the street. The large windows screamed of luxury in what was otherwise a very ordinary neighbourhood. A wooden sign over the door simply read ? Mrs.Porter’s . ?

There was a group of girls smoking on the porch, most of them clad in mere corsets and chemises.

Victoria approached them with her most congenial smile. “Good afternoon, ladies. I have a letter for Mrs.Porter, is she home?”

“Yeah,” said one, crushing her cigarette butt on the railing. “She’s really busy, though, she probably won’t want to see you.”

The girl led them through a cozy foyer that did fit the idea that Victoria had of a brothel. It was far from being comparable to the manors of Salt Lake, but there was a definite attempt at opulence with elaborate wallpapers, heavy curtains and expensive furniture. A dozen girls in their underwear were entertaining men of varying social status, chatting, playing cards, and drinking.

They took the large central staircase to the second floor, where questionable noises came from behind the closed doors. They were all numbered except the last one.

The girl knocked. “Belle? There’s someone here to see you?”

“If they’re not bringing money, I don’t have time for them!” came a strong voice from inside.

The girl glanced at them. “You don’t look like you have money.”

Victoria huffed and lost some of her patience. “Mrs.Porter,” she called through the door. “We have a letter for you, from Consuelo Ramirez.”

A moment passed. “Alright. Let them in, Tina.”

The room was small and crowded, with a desk occupying most of the space. The rest was taken by wardrobes and piles of chests and baskets. A woman sat near the open window, smoking a cigar. She was large, with a strong jaw and stronger shoulders. She wore good clothes, although a bit garish in colour and cut.

“News from Consuelo, huh?” she puffed. “She’d better not be asking to come back, I don’t have the space.” She offered a handshake. “Belle Porter.”

“Ah, I’m Victoria, and this is my friend, Natane.”

Belle Porter eyed Natane and the rifle strapped to her back. “Well, aren’t you tall, dark and mysterious. Very impressive. You’re her bodyguard?”

Natane, thrown completely off, muttered, “Maybe?”

“Never thought of having female bodyguards before. That would be great for business. You want to work for me?”

Victoria gasped at the nerve of that woman. Natane’s face closed off. “No.”

“Shame, I can pay you well. Still no? Too bad. Sit, sit, give me that letter. I’ll get Tina to make us tea. Tina! Bring some tea for me and my guests!”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to impose,” started Victoria.

“Not at all, I was expecting this. Not precisely today, of course, but I wanted to meet you at some point, Victoria Stanton of Salt Lake City.”

Victoria felt faint. No one was supposed to know her husband’s name. Belle Porter pointed at the chairs and waited for them to sit.

“A new madam in the closest town?” She puffed a cloud of smoke out the window. “Of course I was going to find everything about you. Had my people dig a bit, locate your old address, your old husband. You’re quite a fancy bird, aren’t you, Victoria?”

Victoria frowned. She was caught off guard, but hearing about her husband from this stranger ruffled her feathers. “I think you have me at a disadvantage, Mrs.Porter,” she said coldly.

“Don’t be like that, of course I was going to dig on you. I should have been told by the girls over there, but I had to learn about all this from the Wells Fargo driver! Tell them I’m disappointed.”

“The girls?”

“Sent them over there myself. A kindness, really. It’s getting a bit crowded in here, can’t have too many doves in the same turf or they’ll turn on each other. We’re down to two fights a month, and a whole four months without a stabbing!”

A girl that was not Tina brought them a tea tray. The delicate cups seemed minuscule in Belle Porter’s hands.

“If I remember correctly, I sent Ramirez, O’Reilly and…” she snapped at the air, looking for a name.

“Lisette Beauregard.”

“Yes, the French one. She was becoming too popular, too fast, and some of the other ones were getting angry. Sweet thing. Hm, O’Reilly just wasn’t bringing in enough profit. It’s a competitive space, over here, and she didn’t have the drive to fight for her clients. Sent her up north, figured Ramirez would take care of them both.”

She grabbed a golden letter opener and cut the envelope. “Good girl, that Ramirez. Head on her shoulders, proficient in her specialty. I would have kept her, but she asked to be sent to the remotest place I could think of. Killed a man, fleeing from the law, you know how it is.”

Victoria and Natane exchanged a glance over their teacups while Belle Porter read the letter.

“Of course she wants something. I never get letters just because, they always want something. Ha, she included money. At least she’s smart. So many people take my time for “just a small favour” and never have anything for me. Well, let’s see what I can get her for that price.”

She navigated her tiny space, grabbed a pink hat box and tossed in items she found in drawers and chests. She was very quick; Victoria only caught a glance of metal and leather.

“But, tell me about you!” Belle Porter threw over her shoulder.

“I thought you already knew everything about me,” answered Victoria curtly, placing her cup in the plate with a clink.

“I don’t know everything,” she rolled her eyes. “And I know nothing about gorgeous, over there. Where did you find her?”

Victoria eyed Natane incredulously, but Natane did not seem like she wanted to contribute to the discussion. “She was already there?” muttered Victoria.

“I wish I had bodyguards as intimidating. Mine are just dusty old gunslingers who don’t care for baths. But yours! What a find, look at her, all clean and impressive. Look at her frown!”

Victoria looked. Natane was not frowning, her eyes were slightly nervous, overwhelmed by the conversation.

“Natane is my friend,” said Victoria. “She was kind enough to invite me along to Salt Lake City.”

“Hm, bit far. Do you want men? I can rent you some, I’ll even give you a good deal.”

“Ah, no, thank you. It is appreciated, though.”

“Your loss.” She closed the hat box and placed it on the desk, and grabbed her cigar. “Do you want the tour?”

“I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time.”

“You’re doing it already, so be grateful for this. Come, both of you.” She put on a jacket lined with fur and snatched a lace umbrella. Victoria and Natane followed her downstairs. “Shame Old Sam died, he was good for business. But I can get used to you, you don’t look like you have views on my turf.”

Victoria eyed the full parlour. “Believe me, I do not. I have enough on my hands already.”

“That’s why I want to keep you around. Stay over there, don’t overstep, and we can get along. Here, meet my girls. Girls, say hello.”

A chorus of hellos answered them, before turning back to their guests.

“I got a good assortment, for all tastes. Plenty of white ones, blondes and brunettes, even a redhead. You understand that I couldn’t have two, there’s not enough clientele for that. And O’Reilly is actually Irish, that’s even worse. I got a couple of Black ones, there’s demand for them lately, with all that nastiness going on in the states. It’s like all publicity is good publicity, you get me? Got an Indian one, over there. She related to you, gorgeous?”

“No,” grunted Natane.

“You never know. Oh, I heard you have a Chinese up there! They’re pretty rare in these parts, you can make a nice profit with the Chinese workers. They can’t work in here, of course, the main house needs to look upscale, but I have other buildings. Heard she was out of the game, but I can get her a good margin, even at her age. More if her hair is still black.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Mrs.Zhao was pretty firm in her refusal to ever work in this industry again.”

“Shame, shame. What about her daughter, she grown up, now?”

“Far from it,” said Victoria through gritted teeth.

“Hm, you’ll have to tell me when she turns fifteen.” Victoria frowned at her. “What’s with the glare? Eighteen, then. You have first dibs, of course, but I can probably offer more than you.”

“Mrs.Porter, let me assure you that—”

“Don’t be like that, I was just asking. Doesn’t cost anything to ask. Come on, let’s take a walk outside.”

They left the building and turned the corner. “I thought we were being given the tour?” asked Victoria.

“This is the tour. See, that’s the main house, it caters to richer men, but then I also own a couple of houses in different neighbourhoods. You got to be where the needs are. I have two dance halls; I’m thinking of opening a third one. I’m hesitating between building a completely new building or just buying an old one. Even got a molly house, but don’t tell the pinkertons, it’s all hush-hush. As long as the men pay, I don’t care if they screw each other.”

People on the street greeted them, from the nicer-looking ones in fancy clothes, to the busy workers loading and unloading carts.

“Why are you showing us all this?” asked Victoria. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Ha! You’re not worth the energy. No offence, you’re just a small thing in my life. But I’m feeling generous, and you’re new, so look closely, and learn.”

She pointed at a bigger building on the other side of the street. “This is my hospital.”

“Your hospital?”

“Yep. Own it, run it. The doctors are on my payroll, I make sure there’s enough of them to go around. This,” she gestured at a smaller edifice at the end of the road, “is the school. I have two more. I think I need to open a fourth one, since there’s so many new people here. School teachers are so hard to find, though.”

They turned the corner. “I own most of the commercial block over there. I ask for a lower rent than the rest of the city and I take care of my tenants. It’s always a fight when a building is up for grabs. Look, that inn is mine, I’ll tell them to get you a good room for tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

“I like to keep my allies happy. Anyway, you’ll be paying for your own food. I’ll be kinder when I know you better.”

“Well, that is still very generous of you.”

“Yeah, it is.” They turned another corner. “There’s a lot more stuff you can’t see from here. I finance a newspaper, it’s a rag but it’s entertaining. I donate to the post office, make sure to keep things running. I own enough of the two local banks so they just can’t make a decision without asking me. And, of course, every politician is indebted to me in a way or another.”

Victoria looked at her with more attention. She didn’t seem to be gloating about her worth. She was simply enumerating things.

“Why are you telling me all of this? Why take the time to show me this?”

Belle Porter twirled her umbrella. “You’re new, you need to learn. Either you want it or not, you’re going to end up with power and influence. And money.”

She waved at everything in a grand gesture. “There’s just so much work to do. Don’t you see?”

For the first time, she looked at Victoria in the eye. Despite her rudeness, Victoria recognized something in her. A drive to do things right.

“I think I understand.”

“Good woman. Here, let’s go back, I actually did not have time to waste on you, so be very grateful.”

“I am,” said Victoria truthfully.

*

Belle Porter left them with barely a goodbye. Tina brought the pink hat box and shooed them out.

The inn was a modest establishment with small, but clean stables. While Natane took care of Daisy, Victoria brushed the other horse, a white female Appaloosa named Sir Isaac Newton. Apparently, the late Mr. Díaz had a strange sense of humour. Nevertheless, Victoria liked her gentle nature and her spotted coat.

“This was… interesting,” she said eventually.

“I was terrified,” admitted Natane.

“It certainly didn’t look like it, Mrs.tall, dark and mysterious,” teased Victoria. “You made an impression.”

“I’d rather not. She talks too fast, I can’t follow. She’s too much for me.”

Victoria focused on her brushing. She had found Belle Porter overwhelming at first, but there was that moment, when she had looked at Victoria, really looked, that made her feel something at the pit of her stomach.

“Victoria?”

“She’s… powerful,” she muttered. “The way she talks, and moves.”

“And dresses?”

Victoria chuckled. “I’m not sure about that. It was a very bold colour.”

The horses ready for the night, they grabbed their bags from the wagon. Natane poked the pink hat box.

“Are you as curious as I am?” asked Victoria.

“Hm.” She poked the box again.

“It must be something very specific, for Consuelo to send us here. Something we wouldn’t be able to find in Salt Lake.”

Natane brushed the lid and said nothing.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Alright.”

Natane lifted the cover. And immediately slammed it back.

Victoria’s eyes bulged out. “Was that…?”

Natane nodded.

There had been a very big, very phallic object in the middle. They stared at each other, blushing, then burst out laughing.

“I live in a brothel, for God’s sake,” said Victoria, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t react like this. Let’s open it again.”

“You do it. I’m not touching this more than I have to.”

Victoria did, and had to blink at the content. There was indeed a big godemiche made of thick dark rubber. It was nestled among leather belts, handcuffs, chains, clasps, and a couple of unidentified bottles.

“It’s almost as big as my forearm,” commented Natane, putting them side by side to compare them.

“Why would anyone want something so big? Wouldn’t it hurt?” She pulled at a leather strap, making sure not to touch the rubber phallus. “And what is that…?”

Several other straps and buckles came attached. Along with them came the godemiche.

“What in heaven…” she muttered. More intrigued than disgusted, she grabbed the whole thing and arranged it so the leather belts made sense. Once stretched, it became very clear the contraption was made to be worn as underwear, the thick rubber phallus sprouting like a real one.

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“What in all heavens is this?” said Victoria, placing it near her crotch. “Why does she even need this? The men already have one!”

Natane covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes were huge. “I think it’s to be used on the men,” she mumbled through her fingers.

Victoria made a face. “What? How… No! Really?”

She shook the thing. It wiggled.

“Please don’t shake it,” whined Natane, mortified.

Victoria shook it some more, and Natane covered her whole face, muffling her embarrassed laughter. “Put it back before someone sees!”

Victoria glanced at the open stable doors. They were mostly hidden by the wagon, but anyone could walk in and see her with a questionable prosthetic in her hands.

She shoved it back in the hat box and closed the lid. “We speak of this to no one.”

Natane lowered her hands, incredulous. “Who do you think I’m going to tell about this?”

Victoria squinted. “You talk to your chickens.”

“They’re chickens!”

“Who know way too much.”

Natane grabbed her bag and escaped inside the inn, letting Victoria trail after her with the hat box.

*

After a hearty meal and some good beer, Victoria went to fetch their key.

“One or two beds?” asked the innkeeper in a monotone.

Victoria was overcome by an image. A large bed with Natane tangled in the sheets. “Two,” she blurted, slamming that thought shut.

The innkeeper frowned. “Mrs.Porter said one, though. You can pay the difference if you want.”

“Yes, please. I insist.”

She walked back to their table, the key digging into the palm of her hand.

“They had a room with two beds!” she chirped.

“Two? Mrs.Porter is generous.”

“Isn’t she?” She laughed, and that sounded false to her own ears.

The room was tiny and crowded by two single beds. Between them, a small table holding a basin and a jug of clean water.

Silently, they changed into their sleeping clothes. Victoria made sure to face the wall and stare only at the wall. She could not think, could not understand why her brain had deserted her. She heard buttons being undone, one by one. Fabric falling off shoulders. Long black hair against skin.

She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?

“Victoria? Are you alright?”

Victoria was standing there, facing the wall in her nightgown, without the faintest idea of why. Slowly, she turned around, scared of what she would find. But Natane was simply staring at her, curious, slowly brushing her hair. Fully covered by her nightgown.

“Yes, I’m fine, merely tired.”

Victoria washed her face and brushed her own hair, feeling awkward.

She took a while to fall asleep. In the dark, she twisted the sheets between her hands and thought of nothing.

There was something growing inside of her. It was terrifying.

*

Her turmoil seemed smaller in the morning light. A good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast were enough to send them on their third day. The East-West Road was busier after Rock Springs, a relief after traveling alone and scared.

They talked, joked, and sometimes sang. They also sat in comfortable silence. Victoria could not remember when she had felt so relaxed with another person. The girls were wonderful, but their youthful energy was a bit hard to follow. It was… restful, being with Natane.

The days went by, soft and warm. There was a light sensation inside of her that kept her company from the Bear River ferry to Evanston, then Coalville.

On their last day, the bright feeling was gone. Victoria eyed the hills, farms and other travellers with worry.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Natane.

“I want to!” she blurted. “I want a tuning fork! And new books! And my son’s portrait!” she whimpered. “I want to stop being so afraid of him.”

Natane thought for a moment, and removed her poncho to pull it over Victoria’s head. She swapped the bonnet with the black Stetson hat. “There. No one can recognize you, now.”

Victoria flattened the folds of the poncho. The wool was soft and the Shoshone patterns along the border, yellow against black, were intricate and beautiful. The hat hid her blonde hair. It did make her feel slightly better.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Let’s.”