Page 3 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 3

David Jackson

Victoria did not remember much of the first day between the pain, the dizziness, and the nausea. David’s voice reached through the cloudy haze but she could not follow a single sentence. She slept little, and dreamed of Henry, as a toddler, sitting on her knees and learning piano.

She opened her eyes. It was dark outside, and they weren’t moving. David’s face appeared over her, worried.

“We’re in Coalville for the night. Are you okay, Mrs.S? Can you get up? I think there’s an inn nearby.”

Victoria’s whole body was in pain, now that the syrup’s effect was wearing off. She could barely move, even less walk out of the wagon.

“Right, okay, I guess we’ll have to sleep out here, then. That’s what I do, usually, but I wasn’t sure about you. It should be safe, though. We’re in a field right out of town, they charge a cent to spend the night. There’s other travellers, too, and guards patrolling, so we should be alright.”

Victoria dozed off, and woke with a yelp. David had placed a cold, metal flask against her shoulder.

“Sorry, Mrs.S, it’s me again. The doc said to apply cold where it hurt. It’s water from the well, you should drink some.”

He had to help her lift her head. He offered food, but she was too nauseous to consider it.

“I’ll be bunking right over here,” he said from the other end of the wagon. “Wake me up if there’s anything you need, okay?”

The night was long—half alert from the pain, half asleep in nightmares. She dreamed of Earl, bigger and scarier than he actually was.

She regained consciousness around noon the following day. There was a wet towel on her forehead, falling over her eyes. She threw it off with a groan.

“Oh, thank God you’re awake!” said David from the driver’s seat. “I was so worried! You were burning up and I didn’t know what to do, and people can die from a fever, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Victoria moaned at the bright light through the canvas. “I’m fine. Where are we?”

“Halfway to Evanston. We left the hills a while ago, there’s pretty much nothing to see now. There’s still some travellers on the road, but they’re all going the other way. More Mormons headed for Salt Lake, I guess. Crazy how they managed to fill a whole town with them, but they keep coming! At some point, they should be done, no?” He stopped himself, and made an apologetic sound. “Sorry if you’re Mormon, Mrs.S, I meant nothing by it.”

“I’m Methodist,” she groaned through her teeth. She didn’t have the strength to explain how Earl had converted to Mormonism to land more business opportunities, how he had pressured her to do the same, how she had faked it to maintain the peace.

“Methodist!” he laughed. “My Ma’s going to love you, she’s Methodist episcopalian. But don’t expect a minister or anything; the most Swainsburg gets is an old Catholic priest who comes up once in a while to hold Mass. It’s a whole event, everyone puts on their pretty clothes, cowboys come from all over, there’s a big party with music and food, it’s great. I could do without the Latin, though.”

The rest of the day went slightly better for Victoria. David folded the tarp so she could see the sky. The sun, fresh air, and David’s chatter kept her mind away from the pain.

“Look! There’s the sign! It says Welcome to the Territory of Wyoming . We’re getting closer, Mrs.S!”

The second night was easier than the first. Victoria barely managed to leave the wagon to use the outhouse, for her bruised side still hindered her movements, but sitting upright to eat was tolerable.

“Sorry, it’s nothing much,” said David over the beans and hardtack. “I figure you’re used to fancy dinners, with pretty people in pretty clothes.”

“David, I’d rather eat a thousand meals like this than endure one more insufferable supper with Salt Lake’s upper crust. Trust me, you’re way better company, and an infinitely superior conversationalist.”

His smile was luminous.

The next day came, and Victoria learned that one could grow bored of misery. David helped her climb up to the driver’s seat. It took all of her strength and left her out of breath, but she was glad to recover some of her dignity. David handed her a canteen of coffee. It was bitter and cold, and a thousand times preferable to the cough syrup.

“How’s the arm?” he asked, tying her sling flat against her body.

“Hurts like a horse kick in the balls,” she grunted.

David’s delighted laugh brought a smile to her face. “I’m better,” she said, fixing her hair self-consciously. “I’m more concerned about how dreadful I must look.”

Her hair was a bird’s nest, and the rough clothes Martha had graciously given her were in complete disarray.

David snorted. “We’re in Wyoming now, Mrs.S, there’s no one to notice. Well, we’ll be crossing the Bear River, I guess that means there should be a bear or two around, but I don’t think they’ll judge you too much.”

The river had to be traversed by ferry, a wooden barge large enough for two wagons and their horses. It took more than an hour to reach the opposite bank. David started fidgeting five minutes in.

“This is the worst part,” he groaned. “I can’t wait until they build a bridge.”

“It’s lovely,” said Victoria, looking at the water. “I can’t remember the last time I saw so many trees.”

“Don’t get used to them.”

Indeed, the terrain soon became very empty and very flat. There was a strong, unrelenting wind that blew all over the plains. Victoria breathed in. There was something wonderful about such a wide, open space.

The end of the day brought them to Rock Springs. It was barely big enough to be called a city, in David’s opinion. He did concede that the bridge over the Green River was a point in their favour.

The town was nothing compared to Salt Lake, but there were many streets bustling with people. They stopped in front of a brick building.

“How are you feeling? Can you walk?” David asked. “I’d feel better if you slept in a bed, Mrs.S.”

“And where will you stay? Outside?”

“Not this time!” he grinned. “The inn has a nice big room for us in the back, with mattresses and fresh water. They even have a stove!”

“Then I’ll sleep there, too.”

David snorted. “Mrs.S, be real. They won’t allow us dark folks inside; they certainly won’t let a white lady bunk with us. Just wait here and I’ll get you a decent bed.”

Victoria relented, but ended up earning another of David’s incredulous laughs when she tried to hand him a gold bracelet for payment. “What am I supposed to do with that? Just go in, wave this thing around, yell ‘Innkeeper, I’d like a thousand of your finest rooms’? It shouldn’t cost more than 50 cents, 75 if they’re trying to rip us off, I’m good for it.” Faced with Victoria’s conflicted expression, he sobered up. “Just wait, there’s a bank in Swainsburg. You can exchange your shiny stuff for real money and pay me back then.”

The room was shared with a handful of other travelling women. Four beds lined up in a row, two people apiece, not counting the children. The mattress was hard and the sheets were rough, and yet Victoria let out a sigh of comfort when she sat down.

Her bed partner was a nice Mormon lady who gladly helped her with her sling and button-up shirt. She was visibly curious about the enormous wedding dress, but manners stopped her from saying anything besides complimenting the lacework.

Victoria lay down on the dress, hugging a puffy sleeve with her good arm. It took her a while to fall asleep. The pain and dizziness had retreated a bit, leaving space for the fear to come back. The darkness was too familiar; so was the feel of someone next to her on the bed. She tried to focus on the snoring, multiple and different than her husband’s. It eventually worked.

Day four was where Victoria and David really became friends, if only because there was nothing else to do but talk. Victoria was finally strong enough to hold a conversation, which David considered a gift from above. She learned many raunchy jokes and songs unfit for polite society. He delighted in hearing the worst obscenities pronounced in her delicate, posh accent.

The town of Wamsutter was merely three buildings and a water pump. They slept in the wagon once more. Victoria already missed the mattress from the previous night.

Day five brought a change, in the fact that they finally turned north. David chatted about his family the entire way, growing more and more excited. Victoria, on the other hand, grew apprehensive. She had no plans and no one waiting for her.

“Don’t worry, Mrs.S, you won’t be alone. You already know someone, me! And you’ll be friends with my Ma in no time, you’ll see. She’ll find you someplace to stay.”

“Ah?” she said, carefully. “Someplace?”

David shrugged, uneasy. “Her house isn’t really big. Bigger than Martha’s, sure, but there’s four of them piling up, five when Da’s home, and that’s not even counting me. I’d leave you my couch, good manners, you know, but it’s not like there’s a lot of folks that would want me in their houses, either.”

“I am not kicking you from your own home!”

“Oh, thank God. I really hoped to sleep on my couch tonight.”

The sun was low in the sky when they saw the first shapes on the horizon. Victoria sat up, but was surprised to find a frown on David’s face.

“That’s not Swainsburg, not yet,” he said in a hushed voice, despite no one else being around. “It’s the house of the widow Díaz.”

Victoria blinked. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because she could hear us!” At her incredulous expression, he went on. “She’s a witch! I think! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mrs.S, you haven’t seen her. She’s all moody and silent, and she just stares when you talk. I used to only talk with her husband, but now he’s dead, so I have to deal with her. She creeps me out.”

“David, I hope you haven’t been unkind to that poor woman.”

“No! Of course not! I’m the nicest! Ma would skin me alive if I was rude to a lady. And, between you and me,” he lowered his voice even more, “I want to be on the Indian’s side when their ancestors rise again to take the land back.”

He went on, mumbling about curses and dark magic, and Victoria realized how lonely he probably was, doing this trip again and again without anyone to get him out of his own head.

Slowly, the shapes on the horizon became a house, a stable, a shed. Getting closer, Victoria could see that everything was in a slight state of disrepair, from broken fences to chipped paint, surrounded by overgrown fields.

“Does she live all alone in there?” she asked.

He nodded. “Ever since Mr. Díaz passed away. Honestly, I don’t think it bothers her. She never seemed to like people.”

They reached the main house and David breathed a sigh of relief at the dark windows. “Thank God, she’s not home. I won’t have to—”

He was interrupted by barking. Two enormous rottweilers burst from the porch and ran towards them, climbing over each other to get in the cart. Victoria shrieked in terror and backed into David.

“Guys! Guys!” shouted David around her. “It’s just me!”

They only grew louder. “Feo, Guapo! Get down— DOWN! You’re scaring Mrs.S! OFF!”

There was a strident whistle, and the dogs immediately stopped. They stared up with goofy expressions, tongues lolling out.

Victoria slowly sat back, shaking.

“Oh no,” David whispered. “Here she comes.”

The widow Díaz rode up to them on a dark horse, all dressed in mourning black. Victoria stared, her breath still short and her heart pounding in her ears.

David’s right, she’s terrifying , thought Victoria, a bit deliriously. Like a queen on her throne, graceful and mighty, all sharp features and long hair, crowned with a Stetson, her scepter a rifle.

No one in Victoria’s old life had ever looked like that. People around her were pale, both in skin and character, a series of bland visages and empty eyes. This woman, with an Indian face and a Mexican name, was already one of the more interesting people she had ever met.

Victoria felt uneasy under the widow’s gaze, suddenly aware of her own state. How dreadful she must look in mismatched clothes, her hair dirty and her arm in a sling, her face a giant bruise.

David’s voice was jarring against the silence of her mind.

“Hi, Mrs.Díaz!” he said, awkwardly lifting his hat. “Great to see you!”

“David,” said the woman.

“I got the stuff you ordered, it’s all in there,” he waved behind him. “But I can’t stop right now, it’s getting dark, I can come back tomorrow, alright?”

The widow Díaz looked at her again. David waited for Victoria to say something, but she could not form a single thought. The silence stretched for a couple of seconds until he broke down.

“Hey, lucky you!” he said, too loud. “You get to meet our new guest before anyone else! This is Mrs.S, she’s from Salt Lake City.” He glanced at Victoria, realized that no help would come from her. “I mean, her name is not really Mrs.S, it’s Mrs.Stan—”

“Montgomery,” she blurted. “I’m Victoria Montgomery. Pleased to meet you.”

The woman stared a moment too long, a hint too intensely. “Hello.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Victoria repeated without noticing.

“You see,” interrupted David, “this is why I can’t drop your stuff right now. I got to bring her to town before it gets dark. Sorry about that.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” said the woman, almost ominously.

“…Sure! Okay, we got to go now, bye-bye!”

He snapped the reins, and they trotted off. Victoria sat there, a bit stunned. Her head was still empty, she could not grasp a single thought.

As always, David could not stand the silence. “Montgomery?” he asked.

“My maiden name,” she muttered.

“…Yeah, okay. No problem, Mrs.M.”

On the horizon, there was the shape of a small town.

For the first time since she had left her house, Victoria looked back over her shoulder.