Much Ado About Madams (3 page)

Finally satisfied, her stomach was full for the first time since she’d left home. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said, dabbing daintily at her lips with a stained napkin. “That was a wonderful meal.”

“
It’s easy to cook when you have all the best. The boss makes sure we do, not like some other whor—uh, houses I been in.” Sadie bent her plump body over the table to pick up Lucinda’s plate. “Would you like a nice piece of berry pie?”

Lucinda stifled an impolite yawn. Travel-weary but full and clean, she needed a nap. “Pie sounds wonderful, but I think I’ll go to my room now.”

Sadie scooped a huge piece on a saucer. “You look a might scrawny.” As Lucinda rose, Sadie handed her the pie. “Take this here with you. You can eat it later.”

It looked delicious, and Lucinda thanked Sadie as she left for her room. If Sadie cooked like this every day, she thought, she wouldn’t be able to fit into her clothes before a week had gone by.

She closed the door to her room and placed the pie plate on the dresser. Not to worry, she wouldn’t be here over a day or two. Surely the school district wouldn’t house their schoolmarm in a whorehouse!

Lucinda slept the rest of the afternoon and into the night. She awakened to the tinkling of a honky-tonk piano. All too familiar rhythmic grunts in the next room took her back eight years, when her mother had hidden her in the whiskey room while the ladies “entertained.”

Her throat tightened and tears came to her eyes as she remembered the little girl she once was. Shunned or taunted by the school children by day, and hiding in the stench of the whiskey room at night, her only respite had been found in books. She had escaped to Shakespeare’s time, and cried with Ophelia and swooned with Juliet.

By the time she’d been sent to live at
Miss Hattie’s School for the Refinement of Young Ladies
at the tender age of eleven, she’d read all of Shakespeare’s works, the only books available. Miss Hattie, while disapproving of Lucinda’s lack of manners and personal hygiene, had marveled over her reading and comprehension abilities, and her insight into characters. In Miss Hattie, Lucinda found her very first friend.

Now, after nearly eight years of hard work, Lucinda could call herself a lady. She could walk down the street with pride. She deferred to no man or woman.

A masculine roar of relief echoed from the next room and coins clanked into a dish. Cigar smoke filtered through the walls. She buried her head in the pillow to avoid the sickening smells and noises. The suffragists had it right, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Men were truly vile creatures.

* * * * *

Reese McAdams felt pretty damned lucky as he rode up to the Comfort Palace. He’d been able to conduct all his business over the wire and hadn’t needed to go to Wichita after all. Thanks to the full moon, he’d ridden late into the night to make his way home with money in his pocket and arrangements for a herd of cattle to be delivered to his new ranch.

Ranch
land
. Somehow, he had to find the time to build a bunkhouse, at least, so he could hire some cowhands. They’d need a place to stay, but he could live in the Comfort Palace another year before he built a house.

He dismounted, legs wobbly after the twelve-hour ride, and led Buster to the stable where he fed the exhausted roan stallion an extra ration of oats. Even though Reese’s fondest desire was to soak in a hot bath and crawl into his soft bed, he took extra care rubbing Buster down. The old boy deserved a little special attention.

With one last effort, Reese threw his bulging saddlebags over his shoulder. They were loaded with small things for the women—cheap jewelry and a few lotions—and the freight wagon due in the next morning would bring the other things he’d bought for the ladies.

He’d hated his father’s gambling and whoring, and hated more that he’d ended up inheriting a brothel. His first inclination had been to sell it, but he couldn’t bear to see the faded whores turned out. Where would they go? More than likely most of them would end up in the cribs. Instead, he vowed not to take money from their labors, except for selling the building when the time came.

Reese willed his tired legs up the back stairs that led directly to his room. Guilt nagged at him for not greeting Fannie and the girls before he went to his room, but they’d just have to forgive him this time. The need for sleep nagged at him more.

Even though he’d often cursed the noise of the brothel for robbing him of sleep, tonight it seemed a blessing. No one would hear him come in. He slipped quietly into his bedroom, felt his way to the dresser, and gently laid the saddlebags on the chair beside it, his hat and gunbelt on top of them.

In one motion, Reese yanked off his sweaty shirt and tossed it on the floor, then leaning against the dresser, pulled off his boots and pants. He peeled off his overripe long-handles and threw them in the farthest corner of the room so he didn’t have to smell them all night. That he stank of sweat and horse didn’t bother him, though. A hot bath was a good way to start the day.

He felt his way over to the bed. Knowing he’d be asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, he lifted the down comforter and crawled in. He bumped into a lump, tried to pat it out.

It jumped.

Then it screamed. “Get out of my bed, you filthy whoremonger!”

A crazy woman pummeled his head with her fists. Reese tried to dodge the blows, but not before she’d whapped his nose a good one. Leaping out of bed before she could do more damage, he stubbed his big toe on the leg of the bed.

“
Stop it!” he bellowed as he hopped over to the dresser. His nose ached and his toe throbbed. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” He pounded his fist down, propelling something gooey onto his chest.

“
Your
room!”

Chapter 2

Reese lit the lantern. As the flame rose, he saw an irate woman with tousled blonde hair and blazing mad eyes. She clutched
his
comforter to her neck like armor.

“
Yes,
my
room.” He made a swipe at the pie sliding down his chest and licked his fingers. Sadie’s berry pie was his favorite, but not mixed with chest hairs. “Who the hell are you and why are you in my bed?”

The strange woman turned her head and spoke to the wall as if she were too good to speak to a lowly rancher. “I’m the new schoolteacher, and Fannie told me I’m supposed to stay here. In this room. Alone. Without a naked man.”

Oh hell!
Reese grabbed his duster and wrapped it around himself, berry pie and all. “Schoolteacher?”

“
Yes.”

Dickshooter didn’t have a school. She must have stopped for the night. Fannie, in her infinite wisdom and the kindness of her heart, agreed to put her up. He’d wring her neck. He’d wring both their necks.

“
I’ll get this mess straightened out with Fannie.” The berry pie stuck to his chest and adhered to the duster. “Damn!”

“
There’s nothing to straighten out. You need to find another place to sleep.” She sniffed daintily. “And please don’t curse in front of a lady.”

“
The hell I will—er, won’t! Oh, hell!” He charged out the door, swearing at the righteous woman in
his
bed, saving a few choice words for Fannie, and, for good measure, all females in general.

* * * * *

Lucinda hurled her pillow at the closing door. Who did he think he was, invading her bed like that? He didn’t even apologize for giving her the scare of her life. The vile man. Beast.

And he had stood in front of her naked as the day he was born with no shame whatsoever. Had he no pride? Yes, plenty. Probably an overdose. She had to admit, she’d seen few men who could compete with him in the looks department. Of course, she hadn’t looked below his waist.

Maybe just a little peek.

Were she the romantic type, which she wasn’t, she’d have thought him very handsome, indeed. Those dark eyes with the little smile wrinkles at the corners had probably coerced many woman out of anything without him saying a word. His long black hair looked rakish, and it seemed in keeping with the patch of black hair sprinkled on his chest and . . . well, other places she hadn’t looked.

Lucinda fanned herself.

She got out of bed and dragged her trunk in front of the door. She’d had all the unexpected company she needed for one night.

* * * * *

Fannie planted her fists on her hips and looked Reese straight in the eye. “I rented her your room, thinking you’d be out of town for a few more weeks. You’ll have to sleep out in the barn tonight.”

Reese knew Fannie could be stubborn as a starving dog with the last scrap of meat when she had her dander up, and her dander was up. She squared her jaw and continued to glare at him. Damn it all, he owned the place. He had a right to sleep here.

“
You
can sleep in the barn. I’m sleeping in your bed.” He started for her room but she grabbed his sleeve.

“
Not unless you want to blow the stage driver, and Gus after that.”

Reese swore. “I’ll sleep in the barn.”

Owning a brothel had its disadvantages.

* * * * *

Lucinda awoke at dawn to the crow of a rooster and the sweet songs of birds. The new day, full of sunshine, would surely bring an answer to her predicament.

The man who’d crawled in her bed had given her quite a start, and epitomized another reason she needed to escape this den of horrors. She couldn’t deny he was a fine specimen of a man, even though she’d only taken a peek—or two. Looks or not, he surely had a weak character. Men who frequented brothels weren’t much better than the owners.

She poured water from the pitcher into the basin for her morning ablutions. Miss Hattie had taught her that a strong woman could deal with anything, and Lucinda was strong. She splashed cold water onto her face and toweled dry. No man would ever get the best of her. Especially
that
man.

While wiping up the remnants of the berry pie that smeared the dresser and floor, she giggled at the memory of berry glob stuck on his chest.
Served him right
. A little thrill quivered in her abdomen. She sucked in a deep breath to rid herself of unseemly thoughts. He wasn’t worth thinking about.

She didn’t want to face her lack of funds, either, but had to address the issue. Miss Hattie had urged her to buy a round-trip ticket, just in case, but Lucinda had been so sure of herself and proud of her new position as schoolteacher, she’d thought Miss Hattie pessimistic instead of practical.
No time for regrets.

Lucinda dumped the contents of her coin purse onto the bed. She’d spent nearly all her remaining funds on food, foul as it had been. Her situation looked even more desperate after counting her meager funds—forty more dollars to buy a ticket, and that wouldn’t even allow for a morsel of that expensive, putrid food.

No one would be awake for several hours, so she opened her trunk and rummaged around until she found a well-worn book. Shakespeare had always made her feel better.
The Comedy of Errors
, complete with the twins Dromio of Ephesus and Dromio of Syracuse, seemed appropriate with Midas and Titus on the loose. She’d make her plans after breakfast.

A few hours later she heard the banging of pots and pans, then smelled the enticing aroma of bacon. None too soon, either. Three weeks of scanty meals, most of them unpalatable, had left her with a powerful appetite, even for brothel food. She adjusted her bonnet and grabbed her shawl, prepared to meet the challenges of the day—and the day promised to present quite a few.

Before opening the kitchen door, Lucinda swallowed hard, straightened to her schoolteacher posture, and put on her best ladylike face. No one needed to know how she truly felt, and she called on every bit of bravado she could muster. She grasped the doorknob to hell, and entered with all the dignity of a queen—she hoped.

“
Good morning, Sadie.”

Sadie stood at the fanciest stove Lucinda had ever seen. She must have been more distracted than she thought not to have noticed it the previous evening. The cook wore a freshly starched white apron over a clean purple calico dress, and she was frying a mountain of potatoes. Lucinda realized that this brothel, and those she’d called home so many years ago, had a few big differences. All the ladies here wore new clothing, the furniture seemed in excellent condition with no stains or worn places, and the food was the best she’d ever eaten anywhere.

“
Morning, Miss Sharpe. Set yerself down and I’ll feed you.”

Lucinda seated herself, then, partly to make polite conversation, partly to distract herself from her hunger, but mostly out of curiosity, Lucinda commented, “That’s certainly a nice stove.”

Sadie puffed up her plump shoulders. “Yup. The boss brung it to me this spring. Said you cain’t make good food on a rundown stove, so he brung this here Empire Heating Range. Comes special with a water heater and all.” She pointed to a cabinet across the kitchen with her spatula. “He brung me that pie safe, too.”