Her Independent Spirit Read online

  For the first time, Louisa realized just how strong a supporter she had in Beth Dodd. She hadn’t really thought much about where she would go once she made the break from the Blue Feather and learned how to be a cook. But, what Beth said made sense. Just as important, she could see that Mrs. Ford was well aware of the double standard in sexual morality and didn’t care for it any more than Beth did. If only she could convince Mrs. Ford she sincerely wanted to make a better life for herself.

  “Please believe me, Mrs. Ford. It means so much to me you letting me stay here. Beth says she only pays for room, not board, because she eats most of her meals at the place where she works. I plan to do that, too, so I won’t go into the dining room around the men. And, if men come here looking for me, please tell them I don’t receive visitors.”

  “And how do ye plan on being respectable, now, working in a saloon?”

  “She’s fixin’ to stay back in the kitchen,” Beth answered for Louisa. “Ain’t no reason the men need know she’s there.”

  “I’ll do my best to not bring trouble your way, Mrs. Ford. But, if allowing me to stay here does cause you grief, please let me know. I-I’ll leave and find somewhere else for me and Sophie Ann to live until we leave Lundy.”

  “Sophie Ann, is it? Be that the wee one’s name, then?”

  “Yes,” Louisa smiled for the first time since entering The Pioneer Lodging House. She turned her body so Mary Ford could peek at the slack face of the baby who had once again settled back to sleep. She watched as the corners of Mrs. Ford’s lips turned up in a grin.

  “Aye, well…if ye find ye’re needing to pay for a meal or two here, you and the wee one can eat back at the table in me kitchen so ye can stay away from the men. Come back there any time if ye’re needing anything for her.”

  Louisa looked Mrs. Ford in the face, fighting to hold back tears of gratitude. “Honestly, Mrs. Ford? You would do that for me?”

  “Aye.”

  Louisa knew the woman now accepted her being here and would continue to as long as she lived quietly and kept to herself. Beth’s voice focused Louisa’s thoughts on the next hurdle to be overcome that morning.

  “We’re right beholden to you, Mrs. Ford. But, best I get Miss Parmley over to Gus’s place to meet him and start her learnin’ to be a cook.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Louisa hesitated as Beth entered the back door to Gus’s chop shop kitchen. She waited until Beth motioned with her free hand for her to follow. Under one arm, Beth held a basket to use as a bassinette for Sophie Ann. A folded extra apron and small blanket Louisa had for the baby lay draped over her other arm.

  Beth had told her that Gus expected them this day, but every time Louisa asked if Gus had agreed to hire her, Beth responded only that he knew she was coming. Her stomach still tied in knots after the scene with Mrs. Ford, Louisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stepped into the room. Everything depended on him allowing her to work in his kitchen. She wouldn’t even be able to learn to bake for Beth if he didn’t allow her and the baby inside his domain. What if, when she finally stood before him, he told her no? What if he ordered to get out and stay away?

  Louisa noted the kitchen interior with its side counter stacked with supplies both on top and underneath. A beautifully crafted pie safe sat on top of the counter in the back corner. A work table dominated the middle of the floor. To her right, Louisa saw the stove and oven with firewood stacked between it and the back wall. Between the firewood and the back door a bucket of water perched on a high stool. Above it on a shelf Louisa noticed a bar of soap, a scrub brush, a stack of enamel-coated plates and a stack of forks. A few feet on the other side of the stove a doorway led to another room. Based on the sounds of talking men drifting through the door, Louisa guessed it led to the saloon.

  Directly in front of her beyond the table, a ladder led up to a loft. Behind the stairs a curtain made of a blanket strung on a rope blocked off the end of the long narrow room. Louisa noted all this with part of her mind while her eyes focused on the man who stood next to the stove with his back turned to her. He used a wooden spoon to stir something in a cast iron pan.

  “Late, Frau Dodd. Need biscuits.”

  “Gus, reckon it’s best you meet your new cook. This here’s Miss Louisa Parmley.”

  Louisa held her breath as Gus slowly turned to face her. She forced her eyes to meet his that were set in a stern face as they bore into her. She suppressed her trembling while he studied her appearance from head to toe.

  Louisa watched him glimpse at her conservative gray hat with its white ribbon, deliberately chosen so it would go with both her dark green skirt she now wore and the gray one she also owned. When she had purchased a pair of work boots, she had deliberately chosen a style she hoped would be comfortable for standing on her feet long hours. Her modest white blouse showed off her full breasts, those of a nursing mother. A roll of baby fat still circled her middle and her skirt could not hide her too-wide hips that still retained the puckered extra weight she had put on during her pregnancy. She knew she no longer had the slender form she had once possessed before she became pregnant—the one that had attracted the attention of the men who came to the Blue Feather. But she worried about what he perceived based on her appearance. Gratefully, his eyes did not travel up and down her body in the lascivious manner exhibited by most of the men who visited the brothel.

  For him to agree to give her a chance, she knew how important it was for the man’s first impression of her to be positive. Did he see a mother who wanted to provide for herself and her child? Or, did he see a whore who now held the fruit of her sins in her arms?

  Louisa also studied Gus. She guessed him to be at least ten years older than she was. Not a particularly handsome man, he stood only two or three inches taller than she was, and she was not a tall woman. His shoulders and upper arms hinted of strength. His thinning blonde hair worn cut at his neck had been brushed to one side on top. A high forehead over a prominent brow hooded his light blue eyes and wide cheekbones.

  There was something about his man that pulled at her spirit, drawing her to him. Perhaps it was the look about him that reminded her of her mother’s people she occasionally recalled with longing. Until that moment, she didn’t realize how much she missed the German side of her family. They had surrounded her with love and security when she was a small child, but disappeared from her life when her father had moved his little family to Kansas just before her mother and younger brother died when Louisa was eight years old.

  Through the fear of rejection that threatened to overwhelm her, Louisa heard Beth complete the introduction. “Miss Parmley, this here is Gus Herschel. He owns the chop shop where we’ll be workin’.”

  Somehow, Louisa managed to stumble through a polite acknowledgement of the introduction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Herschel. I-I appreciate you giving me a chance to work here.”

  His face void of expression, Gus nodded his head. “Fraulein Parmley.”

  He doesn’t want me here.

  Beth tapped Louisa’s one arm. Once Louisa held it out at a right angle, Beth transferred the blanket and apron to it. Louisa watched as Beth donned her apron that had been hanging on the peg by the back door and heard her say, “Gus, reckon I’ll fix up this basket for the baby right quick then make them biscuits you want. I figure ’til she gets used to it, today Miss Parmley can watch what I do. Tomorrow, she can start work and help where we need it.”

  Her feet frozen in place, Louisa watched Beth scoot items under the counter to one side in order to make a space for Sophie Ann’s makeshift bed. Beth swept the area clean, took the blanket from Louisa, folded it, and placed it in the bottom of the basket. Then Beth turned to the wash bucket and scrubbed her hands.

  “Wie lautet der name des babys?” What is the baby’s name?

  Louisa jerked her head back to face Gus and stared. Why did he speak in German to her?

  “Gus, talk English. She ain’t goin’ to ken no German.�
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  Beth cocked her head in surprise when Louisa spoke. “Ihr name ist Sophie Ann.” Her name is Sophie Ann.

  Also taken aback, Gus raised his eyebrows. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?” Do you speak German?

  “Nein. I mean, no. I understand a little. My mother was German. She died when I was young, so I don’t remember much.”

  “Sophie,” Gus nodded his head as he considered Louisa’s words. “Gute Deutsche name.” Good German name.

  “I-I named her for my mother. I was named after my aunt Luise, but my father refused to let my mother use the German spelling...”

  “Luise ist auch eine gute Deutsche name.” Luise is also a good German name. With that, Gus turned away and busied himself at the stove.

  Her throat constricted, Louisa feared she would not be able to force her words out. Instinctively, she clutched Sophie Ann closer to her, as if needing to protect the baby. She dreaded asking, but she needed to know where she stood.

  “Mr. Herschel, I want to stay and learn to cook, but only if it is agreeable with you. May I work here? Or do you want me to leave your kitchen?”

  “Nein, you stay, not go.” Gus shook his head without turning to face her. “Rufen sie mich an Gus.” Call me Gus. “Morgen.” Morning. “For Gus you vork, ya? Frau Dodd, biscuits, bitte.” Please.

  CHAPTER 6

  Beth sensed it would be best to hold her tongue following the exchange between Gus and Louisa. She had followed most of the German and guessed at the rest. She knew Gus well enough to recognize he slipped into his native German due to his nervousness over meeting Louisa.

  Beth acknowledged that she didn’t understand men that well. After all, no matter what she had tried, she had not succeeded in persuading her late husband to cooperate with her in making their marriage a congenial if not a loving relationship. Yet, if she had been forced to hazard a guess, Beth believed that Gus had been favorably impressed by Louisa.

  Beth felt grateful that Louisa had followed to the letter the advice Beth had given to her about dress and grooming. She suspected if Gus hadn’t already known that Louisa had lived and worked as a prostitute, that morning he would have guessed her to be exactly what she appeared to be—a working class young mother from the acceptable segment of society. If Louisa’s pretty face, the vulnerability in her eyes and the soft lines of her small but rounded figure hadn’t completely captured Gus’s interest as a man, her German heritage—something about which not even Beth had known—and her ability to understand and speak some German cinched it for Gus.

  Her hands now clean from the scrubbing she had given them with the lye soap, Beth turned and gently lifted Sophie Ann from Louisa’s arms and placed the infant in the basket, patting her back as the baby squirmed at the disruption to her sleep. Once Sophie Ann settled quietly in her bed, Beth grabbed her mixing bowl and spoon and began measuring out flour. “Miss Parmley, you ever make biscuits?”

  “Oh, yes. My mother died when I was quite young, but when I was about ten, my papa tried to teach me. My landlady in Gold Hill, Mrs. Potts, showed me again when we were living in her boarding house. She taught me how to cook a few basic meals, too. Then, when my papa got his own mining claim and moved us out there, I used to make biscuits for him and my brother using a Dutch oven over our campfire.” Louisa glanced at Gus’s back, aware he listened to their conversation. She finished quietly. “But, like I told you, I haven’t had much of a chance to cook or bake in recent years.”

  Thinking back when she used to cook over an open fire and manage the campsite while her father worked his claim, the memory of those dark months when she tried to hold her father steady following her older brother’s death due to a rattlesnake bite to the neck threatened to engulf Louisa.

  She recalled how her efforts had not been enough. As much as he appeared to fall apart after the death of her mother and younger brother when she was ten, evidenced by him selling the farm and chasing after gold to the point he lost almost everything in his quest to get his own claim, once she was all the family he had left, he had completely given up.

  Before, his death, every focus had been on him building a future with his son so he could assure Jake’s future. Her father had not worried about building anything for her since her future was tied to her getting married once she was old enough.

  With Jake gone, her father turned even more to drink. His life ended after a drunken brawl when accusations of cheating led to his being garroted behind the saloon in Gold Hill.

  Shuffling feet and male voices signaling men approaching the counter outside the door between the kitchen and saloon brought Louisa back to the present. She watched Gus leave the room to take their order. Too late, Beth pulled Louisa out of the line of sight of anyone looking into the kitchen.

  The voice of a miner still looking for work filtered through the doorway. “Hey, who you got in there, Gus? That sure looks like Lulu from the Blue Feather.”

  A scowl on her face, Beth grabbed a cloth and wiped her hands as she hurried out the door to stand next to Gus behind the counter. This would be the next real test for her. If she didn’t handle it well, Louisa would pay the price. Before Gus could come up with the English to explain his new cook, Beth jumped in with a response.

  “Ain’t no Lulu here. If you done come for vittles, go and sit at the table. Ain’t no call for you lookin’ in the kitchen.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion, the skinny miner dressed in a black wool waistcoat over his off-white muslin shirt pushed his black derby back on his head as he leaned around Beth in an effort to see in the kitchen. Beth stepped sideways to block his view. He then focused on her with a glare.

  “There’s another woman back there, and it sure looks like Lulu. I didn’t think they let that kind in here.”

  “Gus done hired a new cook. Who she is ain’t none of your business.”

  The man turned to face Gus. “Gus, if she’s that whore from the Blue Feather, she’s got no business working in here. You need to send her back where she belongs.”

  Beth glimpsed at Gus long enough to witness the fury blaze from his ice-blue eyes as he glared at the miner. He stretched to his full height with his jaw clinched, his face flaming with anger.

  Beth knew Gus might scream at her about being a bossy widow the times she talked him into accepting something that had not originally been his idea. Yet, because she was a woman, he did not perceive her coaxing as a threat to his manhood. Another man ordering him around was an entirely different matter.

  Still, there was no guarantee that Gus would direct his anger at the miner instead of her. She might hear about it later from Gus, but for the present she refused to allow this man to claim the moral high ground.

  “Ain’t it too bad these here Germans let disrespectable whoremongers the likes of you in here? Reckon if they didn’t, though, they’d get hardly no business at all.”

  The man jerked back and glared at Beth. “Who you calling disrespectable? And what do you mean by calling me a whoremonger?”

  Beth noticed a few other men in the saloon turn their direction as they listened to the conversation. Two started to move behind the miner to hear better. She sensed the situation getting dicey. She slid her right hand into the pocket that held her double barrel Derringer.

  Just in case.

  “I figure a man who goes to the Blue Feather or the Red Onion and the like and who knows the women in them places by name, they must be whoremongers. Ain’t no call you goin’ to them places regular unless you’re whorin’ with the women.”

  “I don’t like what you’re implying, Mrs. Dodd.” The man enunciated Beth’s name with a venomous sneer. “I don’t like you suggesting there’s something wrong with a man enjoying a little entertainment. It’s different for men than women.”

  Beth caught sight of Gus’s heavy breathing and clenched fists. Across the room, Fritz Gluntz, the German owner of the Arcade Saloon looked on with a glower. She felt sick as she considered the possibility that having a confrontation like
this so soon after Louisa’s arrival would change Gus’s mind about letting her stay. Either that, or Fritz would insist he get rid of her. If that happened, Beth wasn’t sure what she would do to help the young mother. She had to shut this man up before he and his audience created an even bigger disruption.

  “Sounds like the coal black pot’s tryin’ to pass itself off as shiny bright while callin’ the kettle black. Don’t reckon God sees it that way. Now, if that woman back there used to entertain men, but done turned from it and ain’t doin’ it no more, but you’re still of a mind to seek out the whores in this here town for entertainment, reckon she’s plumb better than you.”

  The man stepped back at Beth’s statement and studied her. “Don’t judge me, Mrs. Dodd.”

  “I ain’t. Reckon I best leave that to God. I’m suggestin’ you do likewise.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Mrs. Dodd. A leopard won’t change its spots and she won’t change her ways. Soon as the men find out where she lives, they’ll come after her. She won’t say no.”

  Beth tightened her lips and stood even taller, her spine stiff with determination. “Sounds like the only one that ain’t changed their ways is you. She done walked away from her old life. Don’t plan to come callin’ on her because she’s livin’ with me at a respectable boarding house and I don’t tolerate nothin’ unseemly. Best the miners in Lundy learn to tend to their own rat-killin’ and leave me and Miss Parmley be.”

  “Miss Parmley? Is that what Lulu’s going by now?”

  “I done told you, there ain’t no Lulu.”

  “Stopp! Nicht mehr die rede.” Stop! No more talking. “Sit. Eat. Or go.”

  Beth knew from Gus’s demand that he had reached the end of his patience with everyone, including her.

  “Now, if you’ve a mind for vittles, reckon you best sit there at the table and tell Gus your order. I’ll get back to rollin’ my biscuits.” With an unspoken challenge, Beth eyed all the men in the room who stood next to the kitchen listening. What she said to the vocal miner she meant to apply to all of them. She spun on the ball of her foot and entered the kitchen.