Page 7 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 7

Church weekend

“ C hurch weekend,” stated Consuelo a week later, hanging her laundry on the clothesline, “is in ten days. We need to plan.”

“What is there to plan? It’s the same thing every time,” said Siobhan, already bored.

“Not this time. There’s four of us, now.”

Victoria stopped in the middle of washing a chemise and frowned.

“Is she going to take clients?” asked Siobhan, then turning to her, “are you going to take clients?”

“No!” she burst out. She collected herself and went back to scrubbing, avoiding their eyes. “All my apologies, I did not mean to shout. I am not… I am not judging your kind of work. But I simply would not be able to open my bed to another man. Not after… you know.”

“We understand,” said Lisette, from the kitchen door.

“Yeah,” added Siobhan from her end of the bathtub, washing bloomers, “having to fuck people is bad enough, must be worse when you don’t even get paid for it.”

“Siobhan,” warned Consuelo.

“Crude, but true,” sighed Victoria. “I hope you were not counting on a fourth, err, worker.”

“Prostitute,” corrected Siobhan.

“I’m sure there is a better term…”

“Whore. Slut. Harlot. Trollop.”

“Lady of the night,” snickered Lisette. “Scarlett woman. Fille de joie.”

“Upstairs girl,” laughed Consuelo. “Fallen woman. Soiled dove.”

“Cunt for rent,” added Siobhan.

“… Professional ,” cut Victoria. “No matter the name, I will not be able to join these activities.”

“Activities,” mouthed Siobhan, going back to scrubbing.

“We need someone to work the floor,” said Consuelo, hanging a neat row of underthings. “Usually, one of us has to stay downstairs to tend the bar.”

“It hasn’t always been like this,” sighed Lisette. “But ever since the saloon burned down, ours is the only bar in town. There’s barely enough space to fit everyone.”

Victoria frowned. “How many people are we talking about?”

“Thirty, forty on a good night,” said Consuelo. “We could easily rearrange the tables and add some extra chairs, maybe some stools at the bar. I think we could go up to sixty people in there. Don’t make that face, we don’t sleep with all of them.”

“Imagine the money, though,” sighed Siobhan forlornly.

“I would be delighted to help you out, but I must inform you that my expertise in that department is rather lacking.”

“We can teach you!” exclaimed Lisette. “Oh, it could be your trade! Work the bar, serve customers, tend the till!”

“You, stay away from the till,” warned Siobhan with an accusatory finger. “You can’t add for shit!”

“I can!”

“Don’t think I forgot the thirteen cents incident. Victoria, I’ll take care of it. Can you do numbers in your head?”

“Barely. I can do sums on paper, though.”

“Hugh,” she said, disgusted. “Just write down the sales and I’ll do the sums at the end of the night.”

Consuelo had stopped working and was standing, staring at nothing, hands on her hips. Victoria had quickly learned to recognize her planning face.

“Cleaning,” she counted on her fingers. “Tables, chairs, floor. I’m sure the walls could use a good scrub. The bar. We need to sweep the stairs. And wash the sheets.”

“Maybe we can make enough money to get new ones!” exclaimed Lisette. “Imagine, new sheets!”

“Can we sleep in the new ones and keep the old ones for the dirty cowboys?” said Siobhan. “They won’t notice the difference.”

“Oh! I could perfume mine!”

“That lavender thing you put on everything? You want to sleep in that?”

Consuelo snapped her fingers. “Focus, girls. I talked to the Smiths, they told me there’s a couple of barrels of beer at the store that are about to turn bad, they can give us a discount. But the Smith kid is sick right now, so we’re going to have to get them ourselves.”

“Why don’t we ask your new boyfriend?” said Siobhan. “He looks strong.”

Consuelo made a face, then another, scoffed, and ended up turning her back, arms crossed. “We are not bothering Paul.”

Victoria exchanged a look with the other girls. “My dear, I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

“Can we drop it?” she snapped.

“…Of course. Maybe we can ask Simone’s boy for help?”

Lisette frowned. “David?”

“No, of course not, I know he’s not allowed near this place. I was thinking about James. Simone says he does the odd job here and there. We could hire him to do the heavy lifting.”

“Is Mrs.Jackson going to allow that?” said Lisette, still unsure. “She doesn’t want people talking about her sons.”

“Isn’t it different with James, though?” asked Siobhan. “People say he’s not all there, call him a grown kid and shit like that. I mean, they’re dicks about him, but not the same way they’re dicks about David. I’m sure James could rob the bank and they’d just say it’s because he’s weird like that.” She turned to Consuelo. “Didn’t he use to work for Old Sam? Before the saloon fire, when I first came here—”

“Before Lisette arrived,” completed Consuelo, still looking away. “Yes. Mrs.Jackson used to allow it.”

“I can ask,” said Victoria.

“Sure.”

*

Mrs.Jackson had agreed reluctantly. It took a couple of tries to communicate with James at first, but as soon as Victoria figured out how specific she needed to be, things went like a charm. Despite being generally silent and never meeting her eye, James was happy to carry whatever she pointed at.

“Thank you, my dear,” said Victoria, opening the door of the general store so James could exit with the small crate of whisky bottles. “That should be the last one.” He made no sign of having heard her, but she was growing used to his peculiarities.

But before he could make a single step towards the brothel, he froze on the spot. There, tying her horse in front of the store, was the widow Díaz.

“Daisy!” yelled James, an enormous smile illuminating his face. He immediately passed the crate to Victoria and ran off.

Victoria buckled under the weight and yelped in pain. She almost dropped the crate when another pair of hands caught it on time.

The pain recessed, and she raised her head, to find the eyes of the widow Díaz.

“Are you alright?” asked the woman, with a low voice that did something to Victoria’s insides.

She nodded, a bit too fast. “Yes. Thank you so much, this could have been a disaster. Thank God you were there, Daisy!”

The widow Díaz blinked.

Victoria immediately felt mortified. “Oh! Was I too familiar? My apologies, I should have asked beforehand! How rude of me, it won’t happen again!”

“Daisy is the horse.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The widow Díaz turned towards the street, where James was happily petting the dark Morgan horse, kissing the white star on its forehead.

“The horse,” mumbled Victoria. She mentally begged God to smite her with a lightning bolt and save her from the embarrassment.

The widow Díaz gently pulled the crate until Victoria released it. “I’m Natane.”

“Hello Natane,” said Victoria, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was probably butchering the pronunciation. “I’m Victoria.”

“Yes, you’ve told me.”

“Indeed.” Victoria wanted to die.

James waved at them and broke the awkwardness.

“Hello, James,” said the widow Díaz. “Do you want to ride Daisy?”

He nodded excitedly.

She turned to Victoria. “Do you still need his help?”

“We were almost done; this is the last crate.”

“Okay. James, you can circle the town and come back.”

James saddled up and rode off in a matter of moments. The widow Díaz turned back to Victoria. “Where do you need this?”

“Oh, at the brothel. You don’t have to do this if it’s too heavy.”

“It’s not.”

She walked off as if the crate weighed nothing. Victoria trotted after her, vaguely wondering how strong the woman was.

The girls were all busy cleaning, though they all stopped at their entrance. Lisette was on the stairs, a broom in her hands; Siobhan was scrubbing a table and Consuelo, repairing a chair. Victoria opened her eyes wide, gesturing frantically behind Mrs.Díaz’s back. They all began working again, trying to stare less obviously.

The widow Díaz placed the crate on the bar. “Is here alright?”

“It’s perfect! I must thank you once more for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Is your arm alright? It was in a sling, before.”

Victoria was abruptly reminded the woman had seen her looking like a walking disaster, her first day in town. “It’s better, thank you for asking. Say, can I get you anything? We have beer, whisky, tea, coffee, sarsaparilla, and I think Lisette made some fresh lemonade.”

Lisette nodded from the stairs.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Please, it’s the least I could do.”

“A lemonade, then.”

Consuelo immediately went to the kitchen and came back with the jug and two glasses. Victoria felt exposed, with them around.

“Let’s chat outside!” she grabbed the glasses before Consuelo could open her mouth. “So we don’t bother the girls!”

Victoria had no idea why she felt like fleeing, but her brain had stopped thinking a while ago. Once on the porch, she filled both glasses and left the pitcher on the bench.

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

They drank in silence. Victoria looked at the woman from the corner of her eye. She was even more beautiful and intimidating up close. She wanted very much to impress her.

“I don’t see you often in town,” she said, trying to sound more conversational than curious. “I must be very lucky that you were there at the right time. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there to grab the crate.”

“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me.”

The widow Díaz seemed to take pity on her and nodded towards the door. “Big preparations?”

“Yes, for the upcoming church weekend. I’m learning how to work the bar. Apparently, we should expect up to fifty people!”

“Yes, the town gets crowded. I usually stay away.”

“Understandable. I used to love soirées, but with age, I often find them overwhelming.”

“But you’re going to be alone, in there?” A small frown.

“Needs must. The girls will be busy upstairs most of the night. I would ask dear Paul for help, though there seems to be a… situation, let’s say. I talked to Simone and Hualing, but both refuse to set foot in here when the men are around.”

“I can come.”

Victoria blinked. “You would?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s going to be crowded and noisy. Wouldn’t you rather stay home?”

The widow Díaz glanced away. “I could use some noise.”

James rode back and stopped in front of the General Store. Mrs.Díaz gently handed Victoria the empty glass. “It was delicious, please thank them for me.”

“I will.”

“Good evening, Victoria. I will see you on Thursday.”

“Yes. You too.”

She was tempted to stay and simply watch as the woman walked away, but it would have been silly. She brought everything back inside.

The girls were on her in an instant.

“Was that really the old widow Díaz?” asked Lisette.

“I didn’t even know she could talk,” added Siobhan.

“What happened?” asked Consuelo.

Victoria raised a hand. “First, she is not old, because she looks my age and I am certainly not old , Lisette Beauregard. And she does talk, she is delightful .”

It was an utter lie, the widow Díaz was a very poor conversationalist, but Victoria felt the need to defend her honour. She went on. “And she simply helped me out, out of the kindness of her heart. She even offered her company on Thursday evening, so I wouldn’t be alone on the floor.”

They exchanged glances.

“First the blacksmith, then the widow Díaz?” asked Siobhan. “Are you collecting the weirdos?”

“Yes, since I already had three of them,” she said, gently poking her nose. “Someone give me something to clean, I need to forget how I made a fool of myself.”

“What happened?” asked Lisette, handing her the broom.

Victoria grimaced. “I called her by the name of her horse.”

The girls burst out laughing, and immediately started poking fun. Victoria was relieved, since she did not feel like answering questions about any of this.

*

“…Try not to let them pay with those newfangled copper 2-cents, I’m not even sure it’s real money. And do your best to get rid of the half-cents! They’re worth nothing since they stopped minting them, the guy at the bank is a wanker about it, but there should be a cowboy or two that would accept that as change.”

There was a compartment in the till that was full of the little coins. Siobhan kept complaining about the many different currencies that flowed from the states.

“…and what do you do if you make more than ten dollars?” she eventually asked.

“It goes in the strongbox,” Victoria softly kicked the small iron safe under the bar. It was bolted to the floor, and she had hurt her toes more than once on the damn thing.

“Yeah. Remember, there’s a slit. Don’t go opening it when there’s people around.”

“I know, honey.”

“Just making sure. And do you remember the prices for—”

“Yes, honey,” she pointed at the list stuck behind the bar. “You’ve made me recite them not an hour ago.”

“You’re old, you might forget stuff.”

“Insolent thing. Away with you, and let me start working. There’s already a suitor waiting.”

A young cowboy stood at the foot of the stairs, looking their way and twisting his hat nervously.

Siobhan had the grace to turn back before grimacing. “A first timer. At least it’s going to be quick. You think I can fit another one in there?”

Victoria opened a black leather book, where the girls’ evening plans were neatly aligned. “Your dance card is almost full, but if you hurry you might be able to.”

“Dance card. Why are you like this.” With an eye roll, she left for her room.

Victoria looked around. There were five cowboys already, mostly older men sipping at their beers in silence.

The morning had seen new people crawl into town, and it hadn’t stopped since. They made camp all around, their cattle filling the open plains. Victoria had watched them with a wary eye from the back door.

For the first time since her arrival in Swainsburg, she did not feel safe.

Still, there was nothing to it. She reminded herself that none of these men were her husband and buried her latent fear deep down. There was work to be done.

Soon enough, more people arrived, and the floor became crowded. Victoria lost herself in the long list of orders, getting the hang of it after a couple of hours. The girls appeared in between clients, wearing only long chemises. They made the rounds and checked on their regulars. The little black book filled with names for the three following days.

Victoria was so caught in her work that she had forgotten Mrs.Díaz’s promise. But at one point, there she was, waiting patiently at the bar.

“Oh,” breathed out Victoria, thrown off course.

“Good evening,” Mrs.Díaz tipped her hat. “How are you doing?”

Victoria glanced at the crowd. Her face must have betrayed her, because Mrs.Díaz chuckled gently. Victoria was surprised at the sound, the first time she’d heard the mysterious woman laugh. Suddenly, she felt emboldened.

“It’s more than I imagined, I’ll admit,” she smiled. “I never expected Swainsburg to have such a busy nightlife.”

“It gets worse. This is only Thursday.”

“Oh dear, I don’t know if I’ll make it to the end of the night, let alone Sunday! Bartending is harder than it looks.”

Mrs.Díaz raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can do it. Barkeep, a bourbon, if you please.”

Victoria picked one of the clean glasses that had yet to be used that evening. Mrs.Díaz slid back two half dimes. “See? You’re doing wonderfully.”

Victoria felt like giggling for no reason. “You’re more polite than my other customers.”

“Nuns will beat politeness into you.” She sipped her whisky.

Before Victoria could ask, a man slammed his empty wooden mug on the bar, right next to her. She jumped back in fright.

“More beer!”

“Ye— Yes,” she mumbled, and filled it in anxious silence. She completed the transaction, trying to get her nerves under control. When she was done, she found Mrs.Díaz’s worried gaze on her.

“I’m too twitchy for this environment,” she laughed it off. “I need to get a grip on myself before they grow even rowdier. You don’t have to stay if they become too loud.”

Natane sipped her drink, frowning. “I’ll stick a bit longer, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! I’ll probably be too busy to be decent company, but I would be delighted to have you.”

Maybe, if she stayed, Victoria could make her laugh again.

She went back to work, her spirits higher. The world felt different, knowing there was a friendly face sitting three feet away. She began talking and smiling more, falling into an easy back and forth with the chattiest customers. The atmosphere grew louder and more excitable, but she was surprised to find it fun .

When the floor became too packed, she made the rounds to deliver drinks directly at the tables. Consuelo had coached her well; she only made a few mistakes before she got the hang of it. Lisette had taught her to smile and bat her eyes to be forgiven, and Victoria was incredulous to discover it worked.

“Can you believe this?” she whispered to Mrs.Díaz after using it on a poor man she’d splashed with beer. “A smile and a wink, and they’re utterly charmed! I thought Lisette was delusional, she’s a pretty young girl, of course it would work for her. But me! Who would have guessed?”

Mrs.Díaz slightly frowned. “Why not you?”

She dismissed it with a wave of her wiping towel. “At my age, dear. Well, not simply my age, since you manage to be resplendent anyway. But me, I’m old and tired, and by far too plump. Let’s be honest, there’s a point where a woman loses her shine, and I passed it decades ago.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You’re… pretty.”

“And you’re too kind,” she giggled, suddenly flushed. “Are you done with your drink? Do you need another?”

“I’m alright,” she said, raising the glass she’d been nursing all evening.

“Barkeep!” came a voice from the crowd. “Oh, beautiful barkeep!”

Mrs.Díaz raised an eyebrow at her. Flustered, Victoria grabbed her tray of drinks and made her way to the biggest table.

“Here you are, gentlemen.”

The young man who’d called her smiled drunkenly.

“Thank you, Mrs.Barkeep. I need to know your name, what’s your name?”

She blinked. “Victoria.”

“Victoria,” he sighed. “Has anyone told you you looked like an angel? Like, a beer angel.”

“Ben, you’re so drunk,” laughed his friend.

“No, no, look! She’s all refined and soft. And her hair, like a halo, and her eyes, so blue…”

“Young man,” she chided. “I am more than twice your age.”

“And I’ll pay more than twice your price,” he grinned back cheekily. “Can you add me to your list, Mrs.Angel?”

“Oh. My apologies, I don’t take clients. But I’m sure you can get an appointment with one of the girls.”

“But I’d rather have an appointment with you!”

“Now, I’m very flattered, but I don’t think…”

The others at the table all started talking at the same time, trying to convince her. She attempted to laugh them off, and could have easily defused the situation until someone grabbed her arm.

“Come on, don’t be shy, doll face! Come sit on my lap, I’ll show you a good time!”

It was the man sitting on her left. She had been careless; she had stopped watching her back and now he had his hand on her . She tried to pull back and had to bite a whimper of pain. Her injury flared up.

“I just got paid, got plenty of gold to make you change your mind!” he tried to cajole drunkenly. “Come on, sit on my knees, drink with us!”

She was frozen in place, unable to think. In her mind, she was back in a dining room in Salt Lake City, and her husband was throwing her to the floor by the same arm.

“Hey!” snapped a voice behind Victoria. “Let her go.” Mrs.Díaz was walking up to them, making her way through the tables.

The man glanced at her and lost all warmth. “Mind your business, Indian bitch.”

When she stepped even closer, he put a hand to his holster. “What the fuck did I say?”

“Please, stop!” hissed Victoria, trying to contain the situation. “Natane, stay there, it’s alright!”

Mrs.Díaz hesitated. Victoria pleaded to the man. “Everything’s fine,” she said through a watery smile. “I’ll do what you want, I’ll sit on your lap, sir.”

“Emmet, what the hell?” called young Ben from the other end of the table.

Victoria winced. She did not need more people involved, but the rest of the table seemed to disagree.

“Fuck, let the woman go,” added another one.

“You’re gonna get us thrown out of here, take your fucking hand off your gun, you fucking idiot!”

“Shut up, all of you!” he snapped. “I’m not gonna let a fucking Indian tell me what to do. I fucking have every right to—”

“ Emmet Cleveland! ” roared someone over the noise.

He instantly released Victoria and winced. The entire saloon turned to the stairs, to see Consuelo stomp down, wearing only a disheveled chemise, furious, and armed with her riding crop. She pushed her way between the tables.

“Miss Consuelo…” started Emmet.

She grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, hard. She glared at him from above.

“Emmet,” she said in a disappointed voice. “What have I taught you?”

“Err, Miss Consuelo, we’re not in your bedroom right now, I don’t think—”

She pulled harder, and he whimpered.

“Be a good boy, Emmet, or you won’t get to enter my bedroom ever again. Now, is that a way to treat a lady?”

“…No.”

She glared.

“No, Miss Consuelo,” he amended, throwing a nervous glance around.

“Apologize to her.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Now apologize to Mrs.Díaz.” She pointed at her with the riding crop.

He was about to refuse when Consuelo pulled on his hair, hard. He winced. “Sorry Mrs.Díaz,” he grumbled. “I won’t do it again. Miss Consuelo, please, everyone is staring!”

“Good.” Still holding him by the hair, she glared at the rest of the silent crowd. “This is Mrs.Victoria’s house, and you are her guests . You will behave yourselves accordingly. If I hear you displeased her in any way, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to set foot in a whorehouse this side of the Mississippi. Do I make myself clear?”

Most of them nodded, a couple of “Yes, Miss Consuelo,” piping from different tables. Consuelo released Emmet’s hair. “Mrs.Victoria, do you want me to kick him out?”

Victoria felt put on the spot, in the middle of the floor, holding her injured shoulder. But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs.Díaz’s tall silhouette next to her, and both Siobhan and Lisette on the stairs. She was not alone in this. She took a breath.

“He hurt me and insulted my guest. I don’t want him inside my house.”

“What? Fuck, this is the only bar for miles, what the hell!”

“You can come back next church weekend,” she frowned. “Maybe you will find the time to reflect on how to treat your hosts.”

“You heard her, get out,” said Consuelo, pointing at the door with the whip.

Emmet opened his mouth, ready to argue, but young Ben got closer and growled. “If you get us thrown out of here, I’ll make you eat your fucking horse.”

The other men at the table agreed, and two of them stood to escort Emmet out.

Victoria put on her smile. “Thank you, everyone. Rest assured, if you act like gentlemen and treat my girls and my guests properly, you will always be welcome in my establishment. Please, don’t let this incident ruin your evening! The next round of beers is half-price! Siobhan, Lisette, help serve these poor, thirsty men!”

The instant she felt everyone’s attention elsewhere, she retreated to the kitchen, and leaned her weight on the counter, trembling. Mrs.Díaz and Consuelo followed her, closing the door and muffling a bit of the noise.

“I’m sorry,” gasped Victoria. “It’s the nerves. I’ll deal with it and I’ll be back on the floor in a moment.”

“Nonsense,” said Consuelo, checking her over. “They’re uneducated beasts. Are you okay?”

Victoria nodded, but Consuelo was still uneasy. “Mrs.Díaz? Can you stay with her? I need to be at the bar.”

“But your clients,” mumbled Victoria.

“I sent the next one up already, told him to get naked and kneel at the foot of my bed. Trust me, they love it when I make them wait. Take your time, alright?”

She closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. Mrs.Díaz stepped closer. “Is there anything I can do?”

Victoria shook her head. “I just have to snap out of it. Oh, he was so rude to you, I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

“Victoria,” she frowned. “He hurt you.”

“Nothing I haven’t lived before, my dear. But he made for his gun, oh, this is unacceptable, there must be a way to stop this from happening again. I need to speak to the sheriff about this,” she sighed.

They stood there, in silence, side by side. Victoria let her calming presence soothe her. When Consuelo dipped her head in, ten minutes later, she was feeling more like herself.

“You ready to go back?”

“Yes,” said Victoria, with more conviction than she really felt. There was something familiar in hiding the pain and the fear behind a complacent expression. This, she knew well.

She reappeared behind the bar to a rowdy cheer. She waved, shyly, and started taking orders again. To her surprise, the men were more polite, adding abrupt pleases and thank yous to their brusque sentences.

All through the evening, Natane sat at the end of the bar.