Page 9 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 9

Shindig

It took less than an hour to transform the barn. Long tables now ran along a wall, buckling under dishes that smelled heavenly. The chairs and benches had been cleared to make a space in the center. There were strings of paper flowers hanging from the ceiling beams and oil lamps bathing everything in a warm glow. People milled around between there and the street, plate in hand, chatting happily.

Natane had reappeared in her usual clothes, a dark work shirt, calf-length skirt over buckskin pants, riding boots, and a black Stetson hat on top of her untied hair. She was visibly more comfortable. She stood at Victoria’s elbow while the town’s women threw question after question. They, in turn, seemed to notice Natane as an afterthought. Faced with Victoria’s honed politeness, they had no choice but to include her in conversations.

“Are you alright, my dear?” asked Victoria in a lull, her plate full of Mrs.Horowitz’s pastries. “You seem tense.”

“They never really talked to me,” she said, methodically eating Consuelo’s chili as if it wasn’t made from hellfire. “Sebastian used to do most of the talking.”

Sebastian. The dead husband. It was the second time the name had been mentioned that day.

“He had a way with people,” she said, a look of fondness in her face. “A bit like you. He was louder, though. He thought he was hilarious.”

There was a warmth in her eyes that simply broke Victoria. She did not know if she wanted to hear more about that man, or cover her ears.

“He would have loved this chili,” Natane added, raising the plate. “Even if his was spicier.”

“Please don’t tell Consuelo, she would die,” smiled Victoria, slightly crisped. A bit like you, a bit like you , ran in a loop in her head.

“I think they talked to each other, sometimes,” said Natane, looking towards Consuelo, who was huddling with the girls at the end of the barn. “Called her the other lost Mexican in this goddamn town .” She chuckled.

Victoria’s heart was breaking in many directions. “He sounds like a great husband,” she smiled.

“He was.” A glance at Victoria. “He would have liked you.”

Victoria did not have the time to think about that last sentence. The girls descended upon her, Consuelo handing her the black notebook and her pencil.

“Can you please keep track? Music is going to start soon, and there’s already a waiting list.”

“Of course, pumpkin.” She switched her plate for the booklet. That day’s page had the usual three columns of cowboy names. “Go, I’ll manage from here.”

“Five cents,” Siobhan reminded her.

“Yes, honey. Go.”

At the end of the barn, a group of musicians were tuning their instruments: a fiddle, a flute, a drum, spoons. Couples paired up. On the fringes, the girls were approached by polite cowboys.

Victoria opened the notebook and checked the names.

“Dances?” asked Natane, looking over her shoulder.

“Men will pay for any kind of interaction with a pretty young thing. Consuelo tells me that in bigger towns, there are halls dedicated only to dancing.”

She glanced at Natane, conspiratorially. “Do you want to see something funny?”

She opened the notebook at the last page, where her own name was written neatly at the top, and several others filled half of the page.

“It’s my waiting list,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “If I ever decide to change careers,” she laughed. “Can you believe this? Men will seriously pay for anything. This one is half my age,” she laughed, pointing at Benjamin Smalls on the first line.

Natane took the book delicately from her hands and stared at the names, pensive. “You’re going to run out of space, soon.”

“Ha, be serious.”

“I am. You should expect… Ah, there.” She flipped to the previous pages, and Victoria saw her name written at the top. Then the pages before that. “It seems the girls agree with me.”

“You’re all being ridiculous,” she said, grabbing back the notebook and staring at the pages. “Like you’re all in some big farce.”

“Victoria…”

Victoria stopped listening. She had caught sight of a big, heavy thing at the back of the barn, half covered by a tarp.

“Is that a piano ?!?”

She pushed through the crowd, forgetting everything else. Bewildered, she removed the tarp.

It was an upright piano, an automatic player by the looks of it. It was scuffed and singed, but otherwise appeared fine.

Natane touched the wood with a finger. “It survived the saloon fire. It’s been stored here ever since, I think.”

Victoria handed her the book once more, and lifted the cover. The keys were intact. She placed her hands in position, and without pressing, mimed a few measures of a Chopin waltz, humming along.

“You play?” asked Natane.

“I used to,” she smiled. “My mother taught me, and I taught my son. It’s been years, though.”

She had lost the will to play after Henry’s departure.

She hobbled her head, her fingers flying through the fast-paced notes. The music in her head clashed with the band’s song, but her hands knew where to go.

“Do you think they’ll let me borrow it?”

Siobhan appeared at her shoulder. “Woman, they’ll throw money at you for a song or two.”

Lisette quickly followed. “What’s going on?”

“Victoria’s doing a piano show.”

Victoria turned around. “Now see, here…”

“Ten cents entrance, we sell drinks.”

Consuelo joined them. “If we move the tables and add more chairs, we can fit the whole town if we try.”

“Girls…”

“What a wonderful idea! A piano show, how sophisticated!”

“Even the women will want to come,” said Consuelo. “We can serve tea as well, we should talk to Mrs.Smith, they just had a new delivery.”

“I need to check the ledgers but I think we can manage.”

“Yes, so, if the order arrives in three weeks—”

Victoria slammed a hand on the keys. The sound rang in the lull between songs, loud and discordant. The girls grimaced.

“I see your point,” said Consuelo.

“Can you fix it?” asked Lisette.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, my dears, but I doubt there’s a piano tuner living in Swainsburg. I could do it myself, however, I simply don’t have the tools.”

Victoria hated their crestfallen expressions.

“It would have been nice,” said Siobhan. “Huge profit and no need to be naked.”

“So sophisticated,” sighed Lisette once more.

“Maybe not everything is lost,” thought Victoria out loud. “People here will come to mass because there’s nothing else to do. We could arrange other kinds of entertainment.”

“Oh, like plays?” asked Consuelo.

“Maybe. Any bookshop worth its name should have some Shakespeare.”

“We could do somersaults,” said Siobhan. “Or throwing knives— or eating fire .”

“Honey, I’d rather keep it on the safe—”

“ CANCAN!”

They all turned to Lisette, who had squealed the word loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. She vibrated in place, hands over her mouth.

“French cancan!”

“The dance?” asked Consuelo.

“Where you kick a lot and show your cunt?” asked Siobhan.

Lisette huffed. “Not necessarily . It can be a bit racy, but it’s all the rage in the cabarets of Paris.”

Consuelo made kicking figures with her fingers in the air. “Seems easy enough.”

“Even Victoria could do it,” added Siobhan.

They all turned to her. Natane, who had followed the conversation while softly tracing the piano keys, also stopped and looked at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed Victoria.

“Oh s’il-te-pla?t ,” said Lisette, “say you’ll try, at least? It’ll be so much fun!”

Victoria looked at them, then at Natane. They all seemed to think she could do something like this.

“This is utterly insane,” she huffed. “I will try, though.”

Lisette jumped into her arms and squeezed her breath away.

*

The shindig lasted through the afternoon and the evening. There was food, music, and liquor. The barn grew emptier and quieter, most people venturing outside to party around the bonfire.

Natane had tagged along, happy to stay nearby when curious neighbours came over to talk, patiently waiting for it to be over. In between socialization and managing the girls’ dance cards, they found time to chat more. It was surprisingly easy. With other people, Natane appeared cold and standoffish, but she opened up with Victoria, her face becoming more animated, her answers longer. She had a very strange sense of humour that Victoria almost did not notice, hidden behind dry words.

After a while, the townspeople left Victoria alone, and the crowd thinned on the dance floor. Siobhan crashed on a chair next to them. Before she could start whining once more that her feet hurt, Lisette joined them, vibrating with excitement.

“Don’t look now but Paul is talking to Consuelo!” she whispered frantically.

They all looked. Indeed, Paul had appeared for the first time since mass. He was donning the same clean clothes he had worn for tea, his hair tied back and his beard trimmed shorter. He was evidently uncomfortable. Consuelo stood straight, expression closed, only her hands betraying her nerves.

He asked something. And then, to their disappointment, Consuelo shook her head slowly, muttered something, and turned away. She joined them, face gloom, and frowned when she noticed them staring.

“Stop it,” she said, falling in a chair next to Siobhan.

“What did he want, though?” she asked.

“A dance.”

“You’ve danced with every man in this town.”

“Exactly.”

They all exchanged looks. Lisette made a gesture to press her on.

“He’s not a client,” said Consuelo through her teeth.

“And?”

“You don’t understand. It’s… Never mind.”

Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Is this a situation where you need to be chaperoned?”

Siobhan mouthed “Chaperoned?” at Lisette, who shrugged.

“I’m working,” grumbled Consuelo.

“Well,” tried Victoria, “we did manage to make a decent sum this weekend. Siobhan?”

“Three point five times what we usually make.”

“So,” continued Victoria, “I believe you all deserve to spend the rest of the evening doing what you want.”

“Does that mean I can just go?” asked Siobhan.

“Of course.”

Siobhan immediately left the barn. Lisette sighed. “I think I also need some peace and quiet, the day has been exhausting. Good night, everyone.”

Natane subtly left for the refreshment table.

Once alone, Victoria turned to Consuelo.

“Pumpkin?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I don’t believe you would be able to entertain a single stupid thought in that head of yours.”

“Maybe. But still. I shouldn’t get invested.”

Victoria thought for a moment. “Well, what would you tell Lisette if she was in your situation?”

“Lisette gets infatuated with a new man every fortnight. You learn to ignore it.”

“Siobhan, then.”

“Ha, now who’s being stupid.”

“Pumpkin,” she tutted.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I get it. I just…” a sigh. “Girls like me don’t get this,” she waved to encompass some vague idea. It could have meant love, marriage, safety, or a mix of everything.

Gently, Victoria tucked a stray lock behind Consuelo’s ear. Her meticulous updo was getting messy. Victoria remembered a delicate red coral comb she used to have that would look great in that black hair.

“I think the only important things that matter in this situation are what you want and what he wants. Nothing else.”

“I don’t know if I want it,” she whispered, shoulders hunched.

“Do you at least wish to try?”

“Maybe.”

She raised her head, examined Paul at the other end of the barn. He was still there, enormous and awkward, uneasy among so many people.

“Maybe,” she repeated.

She rose to her feet and crossed the dance floor. Paul watched her approach, frozen in place. And then, at the end of a song, she offered her hand.

Victoria watched them dance to the slower music of the evening. She sighed happily, already planning a wedding in her head.

She then thought of never attending Henry’s wedding, and the usual pain came back to twist her heart, always taking her by surprise.

“Hey,” Natane, suddenly at her side, gently touched her shoulder. “Do you want to get some air?”

“I can’t, I’m chaperoning.”

“I think it’s safe if they’re in public.”

“Well,” she stood up, “part of the game is letting the younglings steal a kiss or two. Lead the way.”

Outside, the air was fresher and the laughs were louder. They slowly wandered away from the main crowd and the bonfire at the intersection. They spotted Siobhan sitting on hay bales with James and Mei. All three of them seemed to be speaking about a different subject. Victoria caught some math, something about books from Mei, and a very precise description of a bug, by James. They looked like they were having fun.

A man left the bonfire and approached Victoria and Natane. It was the Sheriff, middle-aged with grey hair and rough skin. He tipped his hat.

“Evening, ladies. Mrs.Montgomery, nice to finally meet you.”

“Sheriff Buckley,” she said, finding it strange to be called by her surname when no one else in town did. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Glad to catch you, I’ve been meaning to talk to you before all of that, but you know, time. I try to greet all the new faces, put a name to them, know my people, get it?”

“Of course, Sheriff.”

“It’s even more important when someone comes from the outside and just starts grabbing properties in my town, without the smallest background check.”

She stopped smiling. Next to her, Natane bristled.

“Now, I’m not trying to be mean or anything, Mrs.Montgomery. But you need to see this from my point of view. Strange woman lands in town, all beat up, sells a fortune in jewels, buys the whorehouse? I don’t know if it makes sense to you, it sure doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I beg your pardon, sir—”

“At first you didn’t look unusual, weirder folks have wandered into Swainsburg,” he threw a side glance at Natane, “but there’s a point where I got to start asking questions. Ya get me?”

Victoria twisted her hands. “And what kind of questions do you have for me, Sheriff?”

“Nothing too complicated. Like what’s your real name, real address. Why you’re here. Are you going to bring trouble to my quiet little town.”

The evening air was suddenly colder. The man was scary. But her husband scared her more.

“What if I do not wish to tell you?” she asked.

“Then I’m just going to have to find it for myself, Mrs.Montgomery. I’d rather stay on good terms.”

“If I’m mistaken, I am not the one making wild insinuations in the middle of the street,” she scoffed. “You wish to be on good terms, yet you’ve been nothing but disrespectful.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right.” He raised his hat again. “I won’t trouble you with my disrespect no more tonight. Mrs.Díaz, Mrs.Montgomery.”

He stepped aside to let them pass. Victoria, torn between fear and outrage, walked briskly down the street. Natane caught up.

“How rude,” seethed Victoria. “I was having a delightful night, and here comes this— this big oaf, accusing me out of the blue of— of— I don’t even know what he was insinuating!”

“That was pretty mean.”

“Is he expecting to see my portrait on a wanted poster? Does he think I’m, what, a criminal mastermind? Some thief, some escaped convict? Look at me, Natane, I’m an old sack of flour. How can he even imagine—”

She stopped in front of the brothel. There, in the dark, on the front steps of the porch, sat Lisette.

“Sweetheart?” asked Victoria, immediately worried. “Are you alright?”

“Are you alright? You look angry.”

“I am justifiably outraged. Sheriff Buckley is an extremely rude man. But what about you, what are you doing?”

“Just thinking,” she shrugged. “Don’t mind me, I needed to be alone for a while.”

“We will let you be, then.”

“It’s alright,” she rose and dusted her skirt. “I’ll be in my room. Goodnight.”

She walked in. Victoria turned to Natane, and had the sudden, very intense realization that they were both standing alone under the cover of night. Barely an arm’s length between them. She had no idea why this seemed important.

“Ah, my apologies. I probably ruined a very nice evening with my antics.”

“No. It’s still nice.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so. It was lovely. I’m happy we had more time to talk.”

“Me too. And I—” She stopped herself, seemed to think better of it.

“What is it, my dear?”

“Never mind. It was a silly idea.”

“Now you have to tell me! Silly ideas are the best ones!”

Natane chuckled. “Let me think about it some more, and I’ll tell you.”

“Of course! Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve spent the last few days here and there’s a lot of work to catch up at the farm.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll come back soon.”

“Yes, of course, take all the time you need. I have done nothing but monopolize you, this week.”

“I don’t mind. At all. Good night, Victoria.”