The Heart of a Soiled Dove (2 page)

Without so much as a word to her, Donovan took off his hat, slowly reshaped it with his hands, then placed it back into position on his head. Finally, he turned to the other men. “Let’s go, we’re done here.”

Aurora might never forget Mr. Clawson’s look to her. It was full of both sympathy and respect. She rather liked the latter one and hoped she wouldn’t actually need his sympathy. But Donovan Ramsey was indeed a proud man, and men didn’t like their pride to be injured.

She looked after the impressive cattle baron riding away and prayed, “
Lord, you came through for me today. Please do it again tomorrow, and the next day.... I need you
.”

Two days later, Aurora stepped onto the porch and breathed in deeply. The climate felt so open and clear – the air was fresh and lacking the pollutants of smog. Unlike Emmy, she was undaunted by the tasks before her. In fact she relished doing “farm chores,” as her brooding roommate said. From now on, every day was new and she’d never felt so clean, physically and spiritually.

Aurora heard a wagon approaching and turned to see that it was their freight from the mercantile, ordered the day before. She looked forward to a breakfast of eggs and fried ham and would make that for Emmy, who was still sound asleep. She’d get used to this new life soon enough, and Aurora was determined to be patient with her.

A few minutes ticked by before the wagon was brought to a dusty halt in front of her. A very tall and gangly young man bounded down and didn’t hold back his thoughts on the place she’d purchased. He deposited crate upon crate on the sagging porch and said, “Ma’am, you do realize you were somewhat bamboozled when you bought this place?”

Aurora stepped square in front of him. “I was not. There was a man by the name of Donovan Ramsey asking for it just as I was.” She stood herself taller. “And he didn’t strike me as a man who would be bamboozled as you say.”

He put the last of their items in front of her and let out a slow whistle. “Yes, we all heard that you went up against Donovan. What we all can’t seem to figure out is how it was you who acquired this place?”

Who was this “we all” anyhow? “My money’s the same as his, that’s how.”

“Well, I’ll be.” He backed down the steps and planted himself where he belonged, in the buckboard, and looked at her curiously. “It’s a brave thing, Ma’am, to be taking on the most powerful man around – I’m just wondering why he let you win.”

She’d taken on powerful folks before and this Ramsey was of no interest – or threat to her. “I had the money on hand, he didn’t.” She stared him down. “Not that it is any of your business.”

The man clucked his tongue, struck the reins on the horses’ backs and tipped his hat to her in good-bye, leaving her on the edge of outrage.

Emmy’s voice came out of nowhere. “Aurora, you need to be nice to people if we’re gonna be livin’ here.”

Put in her place, although still winding down from the irritating interaction, Aurora willed her anger away. When that didn’t work, she remembered she could pray it away and felt peace almost instantly.

After they put the food items on the one shelf remaining intact in the kitchen area, they set to making the morning meal.

Aurora took her place across from Emmy on the two chairs they salvaged from the web-filled attic. “We are partners, you and I. Equal. You didn’t come here to serve anybody, not even me. We got churched a bit before we headed out of that awful place and I aim to keep us churched. Tomorrow is Sunday, so we need to ask around and see what there is.”

Emmy shoveled a bite of fried ham into her mouth and nodded her assent.

With an overabundance of chores to do, they ate the rest of the meal with about as much grace as lionesses and their prey.

After several hours of working outside, Aurora announced a trip to town to see about a place of fellowship.

There were two routes to town, which they found by accident in taking a wrong turn at the fork, it turned out to be a short cut. Aurora’s land was surrounded by a deep inset of pine trees, a creek in the midst of them, and wildlife. One year ago she would have never thought…. She inhaled the freshness surrounding them, and felt such joy.

It was much cooler being nestled within the trees. “We know where to come in the heat of summer.”

“This sure does beat all.” Finally, Emmy agreed on something.

A near riot was in the streets of town as a procession of two fully loaded wagons of young, impoverished looking girls came through. On one side of the boardwalk were women and self proclaiming god-fearing folk, each involved with calling out the most horrid names to those in the wagons. Names of which both Aurora and Emmy were accustomed. Saloon owners, prostitutes and just about everyone in the gender of a male, stood shouting things back on the other side of the dirt street. She had no idea so many people lived around these parts. Aurora felt Emmy tense up behind her – she’d been naïve to think this only occurred in San Francisco.

Under her breath she said, “Keep calm, Emmy, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

After what the girl had been rescued from, Aurora would be surprised if she heeded her advice and calmed down. She heard her try anyway. “I know, Aurora.” They were out of harm’s way when Aurora stopped the horse. Before her, she watched this new hometown curiously, wondering where this was going.

The wagons came to a stop in front of a saloon named boldly, Lady of the Night Saloon. Eager cowboys, miners, gamblers and ranch hands pulled down the new flesh.

Aurora spotted Mr. Clawson. No surprise seeing him watching on the outs as well. Clearly he wasn’t a man who appreciated confrontation. “What is going on, Mr. Clawson?”

“It’s the… how shall I put it delicately? Well… once a year....”

Impatiently, Aurora interrupted. “My ears are not delicate. Spit it out.”

“I’m sure your ears are too delicate. Never the less, the ruckus is on account of some women arriving. They supply the entertainment around these parts.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what this noise is about? Every town has a bawdy house. Why should this cause a panic amongst these people?”

He straightened his coat jacket as if it were beneath him to discuss such things with proper ladies. “Because they are to be bid upon.” With eyes avoiding Emmy at all costs, he rocked back on his heels in hesitation and whispered, “The way slaves were, on the market. The madams and pimps will be going against one another.” A ruby color spread to his high cheekbones. In the short time she’d known him, it seemed she was a constant cause of discomfort for the man.

“Let’s dismount,” Aurora said to Emmy.

Emmy’s perfect ebony skin paled gray. She was glaring across to the saloon. Aurora asked Mr. Clawson, “How many whorehouses does this little town have?”

This was a new one for Aurora. Who ever heard of such a thing? She’d landed herself into a boardinghouse on account of her mother, Miranda. How was it that Miranda became a prostitute? Was her mother bid upon? Never before had she given it much thought. It’s just the way it was if one was born into it.

It appeared Mr. Clawson had had enough of her boldness and questions. He looked upon her indignantly. “There’s a saloon of that sort on every corner, Miss Young.”

“Come on Em, we’re finished here. I want to go home.”

Mr. Clawson raced to say, “I hope this does not distress you. It’s how things have always been done. We’re not… we’re not bad people.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Why apologize? Surely it isn’t of your doing?”

“Of course it isn’t! I have nothing to do with that sort.”

She reeled away, anger gripped her. “You might want to think twice about saying that, Mr. Clawson. You may not know your customers as well as you think you do.”

Aurora sighed. “So much for our outing today,” she said to Emmy.

She couldn’t help but glance over at the Lady of the Night Saloon, with people packing in like apples in a crate. “Wait here.”

Aurora crossed the main street and, unable to help herself, went inside. She shoved her way through the throng of people, cheering like barbarians. Standing room only. Some perched upon chairs, others smashed against walls. Only three people sat comfortably. Two women and a man with a crooked grin permanently pasted onto his shadowed face. They were sitting flush center, with a prime view of frightened girls being paraded on stage, only this wasn’t a play in the theatre.

Simple cotton dresses hung on their variously sized bodies. They were partially exposed with buttons undone, or ripped low. Their hair was pulled back and tied with string, cleaned up just enough to see pure, innocent, skittish faces. Aurora’s observing was interrupted as she was shoved along by the crowd. Could no one stand still? There wasn’t anything to see but a bunch of scared girls standing in front of the room, being gawked at. In her mounting righteous anger, Aurora had to talk herself down from taking them all home with her, knowing she couldn’t combat every one of these men in the raunchy place. After noting the looks on them, she figured she would have no ally if she spoke up. Each and every man was here for the first chance to deflower. She was sick.

Aurora would still be with Madam Hazel to this very day if she hadn’t bought her freedom, and her circumstances were considered nothing against this debacle. Forever she would pray for the anonymous benefactor who had generously given funds enough to last a lifetime. Leona Smythe had been the deliverer of the freeing sum. Aurora took it and moved in with her mentor, who brought her to church and introduced her to a life she’d have otherwise never known.

The scene before her was more degrading than what she’d ever had to go through. Whistling, jeering, rude gestures and attempted grabbing took place. Bouncers on either side of the makeshift platform snapped at the offenders with iron rods. A bunch of leeches is what they were. Aurora coughed through the smoke. It had been a long while since she breathed that particular pollution. No one noticed how out of place the farm girl looked. No one paid any attention to her for once and she was glad. Her curiousness drew her closer, instantly drawn to a girl Emmy’s age, but pale in contrast. The girl flinched as the man with the crooked grin stood and spun her around slowly, poked and prodded. Through an unknown connection, her eyes locked with Aurora’s and stayed there, even as he loosened her hair and twined greasy fingers through it. Those spiny fingers roamed, squeezed in places as if she were a ripe peach. And she had to stand there stoically as if not afraid, as if she’d asked this man to humiliate her beyond measure.

He opened her mouth to examine teeth. “Stick out your tongue, girl.”

She hesitated but obeyed; he laughed and kissed her furiously. A round of applause went up, even from the elegantly clad women in the front row. Had they no compassion? Nausea needled Aurora’s insides. She wanted to pelt this man with the walking stick he held. His whiskers left red marks upon the girl’s porcelain cheeks, now with tears streaming down them. Where was the law in this? This cannot be right. She scanned the room until she spotted a man with a badge. Enjoying himself as immensely as the rest of them. With her unbelieving gaze, she turned back to the girl at the center of attention. A short, overweight man arranged the ladies in order and stood towards the anxious crowd.

He looked at the man who had since taken his seat. “Mr. Poe, you’ve had a taste of my product, what say you?”

“Fifty dollars.”

The woman on his left guffawed. “Thatcher Poe, you’ll not be getting her with fifty dollars. In my opinion, someone will pay a hefty price for bedding a virgin, with her golden locks and all. Looks like a store bought doll. I’ll pay one hundred.”

She rose to accept her prize, and the other madam said good naturedly, “Kate. Thatcher. I’m going to pay two hundred dollars for that girl, so you both might as well have a seat.”

Their good-natured bantering was more than inappropriate. This wasn’t a game, this was bondage and about the lives of God’s precious daughters.

Thatcher Poe raised his hands in defeat as if to say let the women hash it out.

Kate was not so inclined to give in to the rival offer. “Two hundred ten. Are you going to beat that, Iris dear?”

“Two Fifty.”

Cries of excitement rang throughout the room, then silence. Everyone wanted to hear this showdown between madams. The fat man on the stage rubbed his greedy hands together, ready to shove her towards the winning bid, collect his money and be rid of her.

Iris’s eye twitched. She stared Kate down. The feathers on her hat swayed.

“Two Sixty.”

“Two seventy-five.”

Anxiously, the man waited, sweat beaded down his face.

“Three hundred dollars.”

Silence permeated the atmosphere and all confusion broke out. Aurora Young pressed herself to the front of the room, repeating herself. “I’ll pay three hundred dollars.”

Kate stood, all-powerful, her painted lips sneering towards Aurora. “This isn’t a game, darling. Go home to your chickens and stop disrupting us.”

This was for all the days Aurora had never stood up to her own madam, Hazel Caruthers, and the burning need to do it now drove her to challenge. Anger still brewing deep, and coming across this despicable display of inhumane panhandling caused her to react without much thought.

She looked to the irritated man on stage. “I say again, three hundred – cash.” Whispers swept amongst them. Aurora dared not look at the girl. She would lose her courage and she must stay focused.

“I will pay you cash this instant,” she stated, unwavering.

The befuddled man turned to the awestruck madams. “Do either of you have cash?”
Kate sat down in a huff, fanning herself in aggravation. Iris scrutinized her archrival, who met her eye to eye. “Not with me… no.”