Page 23 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 23

Duel

“ … A nd then I told Deborah she was putting way too much sugar in the recipe, but when does that woman ever listen to anyone? She got mad, all high and mighty, and dared to insult my cooking, can you believe it?”

Victoria hummed at the right moments, trying to focus on Mrs.Jackson, but her brain was mostly filled with worries. She mended socks mechanically, the basket of clothes at her feet slowly emptying, the task more difficult than she had anticipated.

The day seemed normal, all of them hanging out on Mrs.Jackson’s porch, working side by side; but no day had been truly normal since Reynold’s visit. Victoria tried to keep her composure in front of her friends, but she knew she was jumpy and distant. It was a matter of time before they called her out on it.

“You’re doing it wrong,” said Mrs.Zhao from the other end of the porch, where she had been exiled for smoking.

“I’m doing exactly what you told me!” huffed Victoria. “You’ve corrected my technique three times and you’re still unsatisfied?”

“Because you’re doing it wrong.”

Victoria bit her lip and sewed with more vigour. Her patience was already thin, she had no energy for this. She had walked by the Sheriff near the water pump, that morning, and he’d raised his hat as if nothing had happened. She had no idea what it meant.

“Don’t be too harsh on her, Hualing,” said Mrs.Jackson. “You know she’s pants at housework.”

“No sympathy for rich girls,” puffed Mrs.Zhao in a smoke cloud.

“I know how to sew,” snapped Victoria, cutting the thread. “And how to cook, clean, and knit!”

Mrs.Jackson raised an eyebrow at her outburst. Victoria felt chastised like one of her children.

“Fine! You’re both right, I’m a rich girl who never really had to do any of this before. I simply thought that darning a couple of socks would be easier, or I wouldn’t have told the girls I’d do all of theirs!”

Mrs.Jackson went back to her embroidery. She was making beautiful red flowers on delicate English cotton net. It looked like a small tablecloth. “Now that you’re done acting like a toddler, why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind?”

Victoria bit her lip. There were many things that worried her. Sheriff Buckley’s manipulations scared her in a different way than the fact that Jimmy Reynold’s was somewhere at large; and ten times a day, she caught sight of the piece of wood missing from the stairs railing and she felt like bursting into tears.

Mrs.Zhao puffed. “I bet it has to do with Natane.”

“No!” she immediately said, lying.

Mrs.Zhao pointed at the end of the street, where Natane was walking the length of the town, eyes on the horizon, rifle strapped to her back.

“Is she … patrolling?” asked Mrs.Jackson.

Victoria exploded. “Three times a day and once per night! She’s been shadowing me for an entire week instead of going back home!”

“Who’s taking care of the farm?” asked Mrs.Zhao.

“My James,” said Mrs.Jackson. “He’s been ecstatic at the idea of waking up every day to feed the animals. It’s great to see him like this.”

They all looked at Natane, who was staring at the road, as if waiting for something.

“She’s worried,” said Mrs.Jackson in a soft voice.

Victoria nodded, eyes on her work.

“We all are,” said Mrs.Zhao. “I saw that bullet hole in the banister. Your Siobhan told us what happened. She also said you didn’t let him get his way.”

“I did not want to,” she grumbled.

Mrs.Jackson made an approving sound. After a moment, Mrs.Zhao tilted her head in acknowledgement.

Natane walked up to them, to check on Victoria for the hundredth time that day.

“Please, Natane, take a break,” said Mrs.Jackson. “You’re making me dizzy.”

She relented and joined them on the porch. Her eyes found Victoria. “You alright?”

Victoria bit her lower lip, very tired of being asked that question. “I am. Sit, help me with this.”

Natane joined her and was handed a needle and thread. They worked side by side in silence. This, Victoria liked. Having Natane close, existing next to each other, was now as natural as breathing.

“You’re also bad at this,” said Mrs.Zhao, checking over Natane’s work. “Your points are too big and uneven.”

“It’s hard to live up to your standards,” said Mrs.Jackson, rolling her eyes.

“How, though?” she insisted. “You’re not a fancy bird like Victoria. What’s your excuse?”

Natane shrugged. “Sebastian usually did the mending.” At everyone’s curious looks, she went on. “Sometimes he got a bit… twitchy. Couldn’t sit still, I had to give him something to do to calm him down.”

“I bet his points were better,” snarked Mrs.Zhao. “By the way, Victoria, are you still going to need that roll of ugly grey fabric?”

“Yes!” she said, glad for the distraction. At the others’ curious looks, she went on. “The girls finally picked a play, but, of course, they chose one with complicated props. This one will require, I kid you not, a donkey’s head.”

They all had been so nervous, constantly fighting with each other, that by day three, Victoria had told them to choose a play and start planning, if only to keep them busy. Now, at least, the bickering was somehow productive.

Victoria had considered Twelfth’s Night , but imagining a performance of the young woman dressed as a man and the Lady who accidentally fell in love with her was frightening in a whole new way. Now she knew what those jumbled feelings meant, but she did not want to expose them before the town, not even through a character.

“A donkey’s head? I thought you were doing Shakespeare,” said Mrs.Jackson.

“We are! The play is deliciously convoluted, and really witty. It will be difficult to do it with only the four of us, but I’m sure we can do a selection of the best scenes with some narration in between. We’ll also be removing an entire plotline, there’s this concept of a play within a play that would fly way over this crowd’s head.”

“Us or the cowboys?” snorted Mrs.Zhao.

“Both,” she chuckled. “But we’ll do separate nights, if only for the women’s sensibilities. The one for the men might get racy.”

“You can’t be serious,” blurted Natane. “Are you still planning a show?”

Victoria blinked. “Yes? Next church weekend is approaching. We’re a little bit late, but I’ll make sure Siobhan learns her lines on time—”

“No!”

“What do you mean, no?”

“You can’t do this!”

Victoria frowned. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“This!” Natane stood and waved at the brothel. “The show! Church weekend! All of this! You can’t!”

“We cannot afford to skip an event—”

“I can’t let you do this!”

“What?” It was like a slap to the face. “You can’t let me ?”

Both Mrs.Jackson and Mrs.Zhao winced.

Natane, not seeing the upcoming storm, continued. “It’s way too dangerous and you know it! It would be stupid to attract attention to yourself like this!”

“Stupid? You think my work is stupid ?” Victoria knew she was grasping but there was no stopping the wave of anger growing inside her.

“That’s not what I meant, don’t be silly—”

“I’m silly , now?” She stood up and threw her mending on Mrs.Jackson’s lap. “I’ve heard enough.”

She stomped off the porch and crossed the street. Siobhan was leaving the brothel with two empty buckets. Victoria grabbed them forcefully.

Natane was two steps behind her. “Victoria, I’m scared.”

“Well, I’m not!” she shouted over her shoulder, walking off to the water pump.

“You know it’s dangerous!”

“I refuse to be cowed!”

Natane growled, turned on her heels and marched to the other end of the street. Victoria glanced back and grew even more frustrated.

She filled the buckets, pushing hard on the pump, ignoring her weak shoulder. When she grabbed them again, a flare of pain made her drop one. It fell, the water splashing her skirt. She let out an exasperated yell and kicked it. It landed near the open smithy.

Paul was there, watching with worry. Victoria looked around and saw faces in windows and doorways. The girls were on one porch, Mrs.Jackson and Mrs.Zhao on the other.

Natane’s dark silhouette against the blue sky, looking back.

They stared at each other from both ends of the street. Victoria was still upset, but now she also felt ridiculous.

She pushed up her white sleeves and marched back. Natane approached, her expression thunderous. They stopped right where they had started, ten feet between them.

“Are we going to argue here?” hissed Natane. “Everyone is watching!”

“Good! I should charge admission!” she hissed back.

“Just get back inside and—”

“ Don’t tell me what to do ,” she snapped.

Natane jerked back at the vitriol in her words. Victoria kept going, whispering furiously. “Don’t you ever tell me what to do, Natane Díaz.”

“I just want you to be safe…”

“That’s what he used to say when he locked the door behind him.”

Natane’s eyes went wide with horror. “Victoria, no— I wouldn’t—”

“Then don’t .”

Natane took off her hat and squeezed it. “I’m scared,” she admitted in a small voice.

“You think I’m not? I’m terrified! I see that bullet hole and I have to stop myself from throwing up.”

“But then, why?”

“Because this is still better than my marriage! I won’t be locked up, I won’t be intimidated, and I won’t let anyone treat me like this, ever again. Not even a little bit.” She breathed in, choked a bit. “Not even you.”

Natane twisted the hat. All around them, people were leaning in, trying to hear.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I won’t do it again.”

Victoria breathed out. She was shaking. “Alright. Alright.”

The midday sun shone hard on them. Natane glanced up and winced. “Can I still take care of you?”

“What exactly does that entail?”

Natane gently placed the hat on Victoria’s head. “I mean this,” she mumbled. “You’re always getting sunburned. Maybe let me patrol some more, just so I can believe the town is safe. Let me be at your shows in case there’s trouble. Maybe let me carry those buckets for you?”

Victoria bit her lip. It was strange to be cared for; she was not sure how she felt about it. “Alright then. If you wish to.”

“And you tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Hm. Don’t go overboard with the patrolling. It’s annoying.”

Natane chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I become obsessed.” Her eyes went soft. “The thought of losing you makes me a bit paranoid.”

Victoria smiled, conspiratorially. “Well, I get it, we are very lucky to have found each other. I figure women like us might almost be nonexistent. What were the odds, huh?”

But Natane did not find it funny at all. She was frowning. “Is this what you think this is?”

Victoria blinked, but Natane did not let her continue. She stepped forward, keeping her hands from reaching out. “You’re not convenient , Victoria,” she whispered frantically. “Do you think this is why I… this is why ?”

“But… you were alone. And I, well, I’m… like that, so—”

“I don’t care about this!” she hissed. “I can’t believe— I can’t let you think this for a moment more— Why did you insist on having this conversation in the middle of the street?”

Victoria felt the town’s eyes on them. “I’m sorry, we should go somewhere else.”

Natane took another step forward, just on the side of being too close for friendship. And then, in a voice so low Victoria had trouble hearing it, she mouthed:

“I would love you even if you weren’t like me.”

Victoria froze. She felt punched, her legs about to crumble under her. This was a single bullet to the heart.

“You… you would?”

“I have been,” she insisted. “Until recently, I had no idea this was mutual, did I? And I was still happy to just exist by your side.”

Victoria let out a watery chuckle. “You were?”

Natane tilted her head, self-deprecating. “To be honest, it was torture, and I am so glad that you, well… you know.”

Victoria laughed, delirious with joy. “Oh, my dear, I—”

“Have you guys made up yet?” shouted Siobhan from the porch.

“Do you need a handkerchief, dear?” asked Mrs.Jackson.

Victoria huffed at them both. “Stop being nosy! All of you!” she shouted at the whole town.

Natane winced. “What are we doing? What are we going to do about this?”

Victoria looked at all the eyes on them, then turned back to Natane. She smiled. “Exactly this, darling. We’ll give them the show they expect to see.”

“Which is?”

“Why, two old dramatic widows finding friendship at the twilight of their lives, of course.”

Natane raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very boring show.”

“Isn’t it?” Victoria grinned. “Come, let’s give a wholesome ending to this scene.” She opened her arms.

They hugged, to the cheers of the onlookers.

“Now take me to your home and defile me,” whispered Victoria in her ear.

Natane choked on air. Victoria stepped back, feeling rather saucy. She went to fetch her mending from Mrs.Jackson.

“Are you two done fighting like children?”

“You and Hualing fight, too,” Victoria sniffed. “It’s a weekly event.”

“What else is there to do in this godforsaken town?” shrugged Mrs.Zhao.

“Simone, you don’t need to send James to Natane’s farm, tomorrow. I’m going over to help her catch up on her work, since she’s been so diligent over my safety.”

“He’s going to be sad, he loves the farm.”

“We’ll have a lesson tomorrow; we can learn a new song.”

She seemed mollified. Victoria walked back and her eyes instantly found Natane, who had gone to the water pump to fetch the buckets. She lifted them without a sweat, and Victoria felt something twitch in her belly. There was something to be said for farm work.

The girls were waiting anxiously at the brothel door.

“What was that?” asked Consuelo.

“A show, my darlings. Like the one we’re doing next church weekend, if you manage to learn your lines, Siobhan.”

She walked in, all three of them on her heels.

“That was awfully public,” insisted Consuelo.

Victoria took off Natane’s hat and fanned herself. “This is how we are approaching the situation. We’re both lonely widows who found a close friend in each other. No one questions Simone and Hualing; so no one will question Natane and I, if we’re careful to give them what they expect.”

They exchanged glances. “It could work,” trailed off Consuelo.

“It will. Now, I’ll be spending the night at the farm, I’ll return tomorrow morning.”

She grabbed her travel bag and caught a glimpse of her cancan dress, still hanging on the nail. She had the most scandalous, wonderful idea.

“You’re leaving town?” frowned Consuelo when she left her bedroom with a massive canvas bag. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

Victoria wasn’t, but she was sick of being afraid. This new feeling was exhilarating, and overcame all of her concerns. The Sheriff could wait, Reynolds could wait, she was stealing a night for herself.

“We won’t be far, my darlings, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” None of them seemed mollified by this.

They followed her through the kitchen and the back door, up the alley, where Victoria was throwing everything in Doctor Sampleton’s cart.

“Victoria, are you sure…” started Lisette.

“Please let the man know I borrowed the carriage?” she said, without listening. “Let’s hope he doesn’t need to make house calls tonight. And can someone grab me a bottle of whisky? One of the good ones. I’m celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

She shrugged and giggled at the same time. “Something wonderful.”

Both Lisette and Siobhan sighed, with very different intonations.

Consuelo went to fetch a bottle, but she handed it with a frown. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Victoria saw Natane appear at the mouth of the alley, holding her horse by the reins. The sight of her was stronger than anything in Victoria’s head. Stronger than fear, stronger than common sense.

“I’ll be alright, my darlings,” she told the girls. “Don’t wait up!”