Page 14 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 14

The Shoshone village

They left before dawn. They spoke little at first, not wanting to break the silence of the plains. The eternal wind was chilly, but with a blanket on their knees and the coffee in the tin, it was perfect.

Natane took a sip and closed her eyes in bliss. “I always forget to make coffee when I travel. This is perfect.”

“You have seen nothing yet, I’ve got many surprises for the road,” Victoria said, wiggling on her seat with pride.

“That basket was pretty heavy. What’s in it?”

“Oh, just a few things to nibble on.”

In truth, she had spent the previous day in the kitchen. Mince pies, bread, cheese and cold meat cuts, another pie because Natane had loved the first one, molasses cookies and a satchel of coffee grains she had ground herself. She had to hide most of it in her room to stop the girls from eating it all.

The sun was slowly rising. Victoria found that Natane’s complexion appeared even lovelier in the warm colours of the morning.

“I’ve never visited an Indian village, before! What is yours like?”

Natane shrugged. “To be honest, I consider it more my mother’s village than mine. I didn’t really grow up there. As for what it’s like, well, they move around a lot, they’re only there half of the year. It’s… noisy.”

“Indeed?”

“There’s always people talking or children screaming. The tribe isn’t that big, but I grew used to living alone. At first, it was better than the orphanage, of course. But now? It’s strange, going back. Tiring.”

Victoria added this tidbit to what she knew of Natane’s story. She wanted to learn more, but asking directly felt rude.

Natane went on. “Seeing many people at the same time is exhausting. In Swainsburg, no one really bothers me, but in the village… everyone is so social, always on top of each other, and I don’t feel like I really belong.”

“Why wouldn’t you belong with your mother’s people?”

Natane’s expression grew sombre and Victoria immediately regretted her question. “I still have trouble speaking Shoshone. I know the words but they don’t sound right. And I feel them staring.”

“My dear, do you even enjoy going there?”

“I like seeing my mother. She doesn’t feel much like a mother to me, but she’s witty, and funny. I like seeing my family, for a little while. And…” She sighed. “I was robbed from growing up there. I refuse to let the church take this, too.”

Victoria’s heart broke. She tentatively placed a hand on Natane’s arm, and squeezed. Natane smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago.”

The road north was shorter, but bumpier. The cold morning made place to a sweltering sun, and they had to switch from a blanket to hats. Victoria was always surprised at how fetching Natane could look with her black Stetson.

It happened in the afternoon, where the road passed between tall rocky outcrops.

Victoria did not hear the noise, but suddenly, Natane grew rigid. She shoved the gun in Victoria’s hand and stretched to grab the rifle at her feet when—

“Move and I’ll blow a hole through your head!”

Five men on horses surrounded them, pistols out. Victoria’s mind went blank with fear.

“Get off the cart, don’t make a wrong move. You, the fat one, drop the gun.”

“I— I will shoot you!” she blurted.

They laughed. “Come on. Drop the gun and no one gets hurt.”

“Please do what they say,” begged Natane in a whisper.

Victoria threw the gun at their feet. Breathing too fast, she climbed off the cart and walked away on shaking legs. Three of the men kept their revolvers on them while the other two went to see the contents of the chariot.

They lifted the tarp. “It’s just a plow, boss. Fabric, clothes, pots. Nothing worth anything.”

“There’s food,” said the other one.

Through Victoria’s terror, a spark of fury made itself known. She had not cooked all day to feed a bunch of dirty criminals. Natane placed a hand on her arm.

“Well, at the very least, we can sell the horses,” said the leader.

Natane’s hand became a shaking grip.

“Please!” shouted Victoria. “Don’t take the horses! We’ll be stranded here!”

“Not my problem,” he said. The men started unbuckling the harnesses.

And then, a shot.

Victoria screamed in fear and threw herself to the ground.

“The Indians!” yelled one.

“Fuck this, we’re leaving!”

Through her hazy terror, Victoria heard them flee. Then, a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jerked away, curling into a small ball.

“Victoria, it’s just me. They left, you’re safe.”

It took Victoria a good moment to recognize Natane. Shaking, she sat up and burst into tears.

Natane held her close. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. The fear was so overwhelming it made her nauseous. She tried to get a grip on herself, but then she heard horses again. She scrambled to her feet, ready to run.

“Pigeon!” called a voice. “Are you alright?”

Three riders approached. The men had black hair and dark skin, and were dressed in a mix of Shoshone and English clothes. Two of them appeared to be in their twenties, the one who spoke was closer to their age. He looked much like Natane.

“Jeremiah,” she called. “I’m very glad to see you.”

“I’m glad we got there in time, yeah.” He frowned. “Is your friend well?”

Victoria tried to regain some composure. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Thank you for saving us.”

“That was me!” said one of the younger men. “I’m the one who shot!”

His twin scoffed. “You shot in the air.”

Natane took Victoria’s arm, gently. “Victoria, this is my brother, Jeremiah, and my cousins, Luke and Charlie.”

“It’s a definite pleasure to come to your rescue, ma’am,” winked Luke.

“Hey, I’m the one who shot! I get to talk to her first!” said Charlie.

“Boys,” snapped Jeremiah. They fell silent. “Natane, we should get going, before they realize there’s only three of us.”

“A moment.” She turned, and placed a hand on Victoria’s cheek. “Are you alright? Be honest.”

Victoria focused on the warmth of her hand. “…Not quite. But we need to leave.”

They took the road again. While the twins bickered to be the one riding next to Victoria’s side of the cart, Jeremiah was speaking lowly with Natane.

“They never come so close to the village,” he said with a frown. “I don’t like it.”

“Maybe they won’t try again, after this. We’re lucky you were there.”

“We were looking for you. You were supposed to arrive three days ago, we grew worried.”

“Farm problems.”

“You’ll be the one telling mother.” He glanced at Victoria. “I see you brought company?”

Natane stiffened. “The road’s been lonely since Sebastian’s death.”

“Hey, I’m really glad you made a friend, but I’d feel better if you travelled with someone who could actually protect you, Pigeon.”

“Jeremiah,” she hissed. “She can hear you.”

Victoria did, but she agreed with him. Now that she was not shaking with terror, she could reflect on her own uselessness. A lone gunshot had cut her strings, and she had crumbled. It was unacceptable. She wanted to be able to protect herself, and Natane.

One of the twins apparently won the scuffle and rode up next to her, taking off his hat. “Hey there, pretty lady! I’m Luke. I’m an excellent warrior and hunter, and the pride of my tribe.”

“Hello. I’m Victoria.”

“Say, Victoria, what’s your situation? Because I’ve been looking for a wife and—”

“She’s taken,” snapped Natane from her other side. “…Married. Go hunt for trouble elsewhere, both of you.”

They grumbled and rode further away. Victoria was surprised to hear Natane be harsh.

Jeremiah sighed. “Sorry about this, ma’am, there’s a lack of young women in the tribe. They’ve been insufferable ever since they came of age. Don’t worry, I’ll make them leave you alone.”

Victoria made a face. Even after dealing with thirsty cowboys serenading her, she was not used to men half her age flirting so outrageously.

They reached the village early in the evening. There was a tranquil river nearby, and the conic silhouettes of teepees against the golden sky. There were people everywhere, talking, working, laughing. A group of children ran up to them and tried to climb in the cart to see what was inside. Others ran next to the cart, throwing questions in Shoshone at Victoria, who could only shrug.

Luke helped her off the cart. “They’ve never seen such a beautiful woman, before.”

“They’ve never seen an Englishwoman,” corrected Charlie. “Huh, not that you’re not beautiful, of course. It’s, huh. It’s the hair.”

She tucked a strand behind her ear, self-conscious.

Natane walked up to her. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that. They’re going to stare.”

“So does everyone in Swainsburg. I’m used to it.” She was not.

Natane took her hand, gently. “Come, the men can unpack. I want you to meet my mother.”

The hand in her hand was hot, like a brand. She tried to focus on it instead of the eyes on her. She did her best to look nice and unthreatening, keeping in step with Natane.

On their way, they passed near the largest teepee, in front of which a circle of older people were smoking.

“Good evening, elders,” said Natane, dropping her hand. “This is my friend, Victoria.”

There was a wave of greetings in both English and Shoshone. Not all of them looked like they approved of Victoria’s presence. The chief seemed to care little about her, though. He asked Natane several questions. Victoria could hear the difference of flow between their speeches, Natane’s being more hesitant. After a quick update, the chief nodded and dismissed them. The group of elders started arguing.

Victoria grabbed Natane’s sleeve. “Are they mad that I’m here?”

“No, don’t worry, they’re used to English people. And you’re my guest. They’re actually disagreeing about the planting. There’s fewer and fewer bisons on the plains, so some elders want to stay in one place and try to grow crops. Not everyone is on board.” Behind them, the discussion escalated. “They’ll be at it all night. Come, here’s my mother.”

An old woman sat with her legs crossed in front of a smaller teepee. Her braided hair was almost completely white and her face was heavily marked with age. She was weaving something on a light wooden loom. Victoria recognized the patterns from the blanket they had shared that morning.

“Mother!”

The woman’s face lit up, and she reached her arms out. Natane kneeled and they embraced. The mother cradled her face and stared, overjoyed. “My Natane,” she said in English. “You always come back to me.”

“Of course, Mother. Please, meet my friend Victoria. Victoria, this is my mother, Nau-ni.”

The woman’s eyes turned to her, and Victoria felt like a prey under a falcon’s gaze. There was a moment where she could swear her soul was on display. Nau-ni gestured at them to sit.

“Hello, Victoria,” said Nau-ni with a perfect accent. Then, before Victoria could return her greeting, she went back to Natane. “She’s new. I’ve never heard her name before.”

“She just moved into town,” said Natane, looking like an awkward teenager. “She, huh, she tends the brothel.”

Nau-ni squinted. “A prostitute?”

“No! She’s the owner! And a musician, she plays the piano!”

Nau-ni just stared at her daughter. Natane was the first to look away. Nau-ni hummed, then turned to Victoria. “I’ve heard piano, a long time ago. It was beautiful. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I will hear it again before I die.”

“Don’t talk like that, Mother.”

“I’m going to die soon and you need to get used to it.”

“You’ve been saying the same thing for twenty years.”

“Hum,” said Victoria, “if you ever come to Swainsburg, I would be glad to play for you.”

“She’s great,” added Natane.

Nau-ni tutted. “My daughter, I need to finish this while there’s still light. Go help the women cook, or the men unpack. Your friend can stay.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Natane threw a nervous glance at Victoria and walked away. Nau-ni waited for her to disappear behind a teepee before turning on Victoria.

“You. What is it about you?”

“I… What do you mean?”

“Natane has only ever brought her husband up here. She never mentioned friends, before. But here you are, owner of a brothel of all things, and she brings you to me.”

“Err…”

“You’re English and blonde, and I know how dangerous these things can be.” She went back to her weaving. “I want to know if my daughter is safe.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her! She’s been wonderful to me, a great friend—”

“I know my daughter is wonderful. I want to know about you. What you are doing in that town.”

“I, huh…” She glanced at the other end of the village, where Natane was standing near the cart, staring back. It gave Victoria some courage. “I escaped from my husband,” she breathed.

“Hm,” said Nau-ni.

“A friend sent me to her family, in Swainsburg. Then, the girls of the brothel were kind to me, so I bought the building to let them keep their home. That’s all there is.”

Nau-ni worked in silence for a while. She harrumphed.

“A bad husband. That’s the same thing in every language. Well, I’m glad my daughter has a friend. I don’t want her to be alone when I die. As long as you are good to Natane, you are welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

When Natane came back, Nau-ni was explaining her work to Victoria, pointing at the patterns.

“Everything alright?” Natane asked, nervously.

“Your mother is a true artist,” gushed Victoria, holding the end of the blanket. “Look at the intricacy of this! I know women in Salt Lake who would sell their first born for this.”

“Then I must demand to be paid more,” said Nau-ni. “Tell your English women to send me their sons, I will raise them here. It’s only fair since they took my daughter!”

She laughed, loudly. Victoria chuckled, unsure, and glanced at Natane, who simply sighed.

“Don’t mind her, her humour is dark. Mother, shall we eat here or with the others?”

“Here, for tonight. The rest of the tribe can have you tomorrow.”

Natane came back with bowls of bison stew. They sat and talked for a long time, until Nau-ni grew tired and left to sleep in her hut.

The village calmed down once the children and the elders went to sleep. The constant voices became a murmur. Natane brought them blankets and tea, and they huddled next to each other.

“Your mother is a delight,” said Victoria.

“She’s terrifying,” said Natane with a proud smile. “I’m sorry she interrogated you.”

“I don’t mind, my own mother did the same with—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Her mother had indeed questioned Earl about his intentions, but only because he was courting her. These two moments were nothing alike.

She dismissed her train of thought. “Well, she was nice. She’s just worried for you. She said I was dangerous because I’m blonde and English, and to be honest, I understand where she comes from.”

Natane threw her a nervous glance, then at the teepee’s closed door.

“My father was blond,” she muttered, so low Victoria had to lean in to hear her. “He was a soldier from Fort Laramie, sent to negotiate with the Arapaho tribe. My mother’s from there, and she was good with languages. She spoke Arapaho, Shoshone, and perfect English. So, they paired her with him for his diplomatic work.” She frowned. “She was fifteen.”

Victoria squeezed her hand.

“She says she loved him. It doesn’t change the fact that he got her pregnant and left. For a while, she hoped he would come back. She even gave me his surname, so he would claim me. The government saw the name on the census and sent me to the orphanage.”

She leaned her weight on Victoria, looking very tired. “No one wanted my mother after that. Years later, when she was way over marrying age, there was a tentative peace treaty between the Arapaho and Shoshone tribe. Here, there was a man who could not find a wife because he’d been wounded and couldn’t hunt anymore. So, she left her people and had to adapt to a whole new culture. I just think of her, so young, her child stolen from her, and then only wanted as a last resort by someone from an enemy tribe.”

“She looks at home, here,” Victoria mused.

“Because she gave him a strong son who would honour the clan,” she shrugged. “Jeremiah is great, everything a child should be. I’m just her weird daughter.”

“I’m sure she loves you very much.”

“She does. It’s just… I came back wrong. She lost a daughter and what she got back was this weird gangly teenager with short hair, who didn’t speak her language, who didn’t know the dances or the stories. I had to learn everything, how to cook, how to tan hides. How to talk.”

Victoria’s heart broke for her.

“I tried,” said Natane, “for so long. But when I reached twenty and no man had wanted to make me his wife, I was devastated. She sat me down and told me I couldn’t make myself into something I wasn’t. She released me from my daughter duties.” Her voice cracked. “She said she was just glad to have met me.”

A moment stretched between them. Only the murmurs around them broke the night’s silence.

“I left. I had no idea where I would end up, thought I’d try a big city. I stopped by Swainsburg for a while, and Sebastian was there. He was kind and strange in his own way. We got married that same year.” A breath. “It was hard, at first, but he was a good husband. We figured out how to be happy.”

She looked at the teepee, where Nau-ni’s snores could be heard through the bison hide.

“I like coming back. I’m glad to have met her, too.”

She placed her head on Victoria’s shoulder. They both stared at the fire for a long time.

*

They slept in Nau-ni’s teepee. Victoria was exhausted enough to fall asleep easily, but in the morning, her back was killing her. She left the tent, a bit grumpy, and came face to face with a dozen children sitting there.

“Hello?” she tried.

“Hello!” they answered back.

The oldest one, a girl about eight, asked a question. Victoria looked around for a translator, but Natane was at the other end of the village, next to the cooking women.

The girl repeated her question, and gestured to her own head, then pointed at Victoria.

“My hair?” she asked. They nodded. “Huh, alright. Please give me a moment.”

She grabbed her comb and handed it to the girl. The instant she sat down, she was swarmed by the younger toddlers, clearly intent on climbing on her lap and touching her hair. She had to gently remove the most painful grips, but otherwise, she let them explore and brush at their heart’s content.

They seemed to be also curious about her eyes, her nose, and the fabric of her blouse.

Natane came back with breakfast and shooed them, good-naturedly.

“The other women say you can come back whenever you want if you agree to watch the kids while they work.”

“They’re adorable. I wish I could understand what they’re saying.”

Natane grimaced. “They call you the ugly woman with straw hair. Sorry.”

Victoria burst out laughing. Natane watched her over her mug of coffee, her eyes smiling.

They spent the day going from a group of workers to the next. Natane was as awkward with them as she was with the people of Swainsburg, but the tribe seemed used to it. They demanded news of the outside world and were deadly curious about Salt Lake City; some of them had visited larger settlements but could not imagine anything bigger than Rock Springs.

“They’re paving the main roads, like the big cities in the Eastern coast. I’ve heard they’re inventing all sorts of mechanical chariots over there, like trains without rails,” tried to explain Victoria.

“If it doesn’t have horses or rails, how does it move then?” asked a woman with a good grasp of English.

“They say it’s powered with steam, but I have no idea how that would even work. I honestly have never seen one with my own eyes, merely illustrated in newspapers. It said they would replace horses.”

The women seemed skeptical after that.

The elders mostly wanted to know about the brigands on the road.

“They’re getting bolder,” said one. “They dare attack our sister on our own lands.”

“The English are taking more and more territory,” said another, looking at Victoria with scorn.

The chief cut him with a word. He turned to Natane. “If there are bandits on the road, we will send Jeremiah and the twins back with you.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

The day passed quickly. The women left to cook. When Victoria offered to help, they chased her away with polite smiles.

“She says to tell you guests shouldn’t work,” Natane translated. “The truth is that they don’t trust you. One of them tasted English food once and hated it.”

They were smiling at her. Victoria smiled back, awkwardly. “Well, none of them will get to taste my mince pies, then.”

Natane chuckled. “More for me, then.”

Evening came and they were invited to eat with the rest of the tribe. Nau-ni, her work done for the day, sat between both of them in the circle.

“Mother, you’re going to lose your sight if you keep staring at your loom all day long,” Natane chastised. “You’re an elder, you don’t need to work.”

“Then who would do the beading? One of these teenagers? Pah, I taught them all, and yet they can never make anything that compares to what I do. Look, Victoria, isn’t this pretty?”

She showed the sleeve of her coat, where hundreds of small beads were arranged in gorgeous patterns.

“It’s amazing! You have a wonderful skill, Nau-ni.”

“I’m good at making beautiful things,” she bragged.

Victoria glanced at Natane, agreeing in silence.

After dinner, some grabbed drums and started a steady beat. People started to sing, others stood up to dance. They twirled in intricate steps, capes and long fringes flying after them. Victoria watched them in awe. This was not like anything she knew. It felt like art, a piece of history.

The night went on, song after song.

When they returned to the teepee, Nau-ni and Natane stayed up. Victoria curled in her bedroll, their hushed voices lulling her to sleep.

They were not speaking English, but she swore she heard her name.

*

They left the next morning, accompanied by Jeremiah, Luke, and Charlie.

“It’s nice of the elders to grant us an escort,” Victoria whispered.

Natane grimaced. “It’s probably because I’m carrying merchandise to sell in town. And money.”

“Oh.”

From what Victoria had seen, the tribe did care for Natane, but in a loud, exuberant way that only made her feel more awkward. She resolved to work harder to make Natane feel wanted.

The trip back was uneventful and they reached Swainsburg in the evening. The girls greeted Victoria with open arms. Luke and Charlie stared at them, hoping to stay longer, but Jeremiah was firm. They had yet to escort Natane home.

Victoria looked at her, feeling too many eyes on them.

“Thank you,” she simply said. For showing me your home, she wanted to add. For telling me so much about you. For trusting me.

Natane smiled back.

*

It took Victoria three days to find the willpower to go to the Sheriff’s office. The man was not exactly unpleasant, but every conversation they had had so far had been taxing. She tended to avoid him whenever it was possible to do so.

She opened the door and knocked on the frame. “Sheriff Buckley?”

He was sitting, feet on the desk, reading one of Victoria’s raunchy novels. “Mrs.Montgomery,” he said, waving her inside. “To what do I owe the honour of your visit? Are you going to buy my institution next?”

She bristled. “Nothing of the sort, Sheriff. I wished to speak with you about an important matter.”

“Hm, sounds serious. But we can’t forget our manners. Rogers!”

A skinny lad, no older than twenty-five, came out of the jail cell holding a broom.

“Fred Rogers, meet Mrs.Victoria Montgomery. Salute, boy, she’s Swainsburg royalty.”

She threw an annoyed glance at the Sheriff. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

“You too,” he mumbled.

“Alright, you can go away, shoo.” He then turned to Victoria. “Fred here is my new Deputy. Never needed one before, the town is small enough. But things are different now, aren’t they?”

“Can we not do this right now, Sheriff? I will gladly suffer your insinuations at a later date. For the moment, I need to tell you that we were assaulted on the Northern road.”

That seemed to get his attention. “Really?”

“Indeed. Natane Díaz and myself were travelling to the Shoshone village when a group of brigands held us at gunpoint and ransacked our belongings. We were saved in time by the men of Natane’s family, but if it were not for them, we would have been left stranded on the road, or we simply would be dead.”

He put the book aside and sat up. “Any of them look like one of these?”

He pointed at the wall. A dozen wanted posters, all in different states of decay, bore ink sketches of dangerous-looking outlaws.

“This one.”

Sheriff Buckley tore it from the tacks. “Jimmy Reynolds,” he grumbled. “He used to make trouble down south, near Rock Springs. The closest they’d come was Wamsutter. Usually, they deal with bigger fishes, like Well Fargo wagons, and they leave the small travellers alone. Mrs.Jackson’s boy’s been lucky so far.” Victoria was suddenly overcome with worry for David. “How many you said they were?”

“Five of them.”

“Hm, I don’t think it’s even all of them. Some accounts say there’s been seven, sometimes up to ten.” He let the poster fall back on the table. “Next time, bring some men with you. Or just don’t travel at all.”

“We have no plans to do so at the moment.”

“At the moment,” he repeated. “You ever seen them among your clients before?”

“Not that I recall, no. I can ask the girls if they know him.”

He pushed the sheet towards her. “Yeah, do it.”

Victoria took it between pinched fingers, grimacing at the portrait. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff.”

“Pleasure. Thanks for the book,” he waved the raunchy novel around. “Can’t wait to see if Lady Catherine de Pomeroy is going to succumb to the charms of the dread pirate Barnett “Cutthroat” Weatherly.”

She smirked and walked to the door. “She will.”

He gasped with fake outrage. “Now there’s no need to spoil it.”

“Good afternoon, Sheriff.”