Chapter 17
“Blade gave you his horse?” Stormy didn’t believe the Miller boy for a minute. Blade loved Belinda more than anything else in the world.
“No, ma’am.” Sitting in Blade’s spot at the eating table, Kile fussed with his napkin. “He said I was to take care of her.”
“For how long?”
“Stormy,” Zed said. “Kile came here for advice, not to be grilled about Blade’s plans.”
“I think we deserve answers,” she said hotly. “Where’s Blade now?”
Kile stared toward the kitchen, where his mother and Brownie washed the supper dishes. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am. I was told to say he had pressing business to attend to.”
“So, he ordered you to come out here.”
Carrying the coffee pot, Vi walked into the room. “Blade suggested Kile could get good advice on starting a ranch.” She shooed Brownie into his seat and filled everyone’s coffee mugs. “Who wants cream and sugar?”
“I’ll take both,” Brownie said.
Stormy gaped. Brownie always drank his coffee black.
Vi stirred Brownie’s drink and set it back in front of him. “Here you go, hon.” She settled into the chair next to her son and leveled her gaze at Stormy. “I’ve been a barkeep for four years now, and I’ve learned a thing or two about people. They’s always got troubles, and they’s always lookin’ for someone to blame.”
Stormy bristled. This woman was a guest. She had no business criticizing her questions or stirring Brownie’s coffee.
Vi reached into her voluminous bag and pulled out a shiny silver flask. “Who wants a splash?”
Running Bear leaned forward and held out his mug. So did Zed. When Vi held the flask over Stormy’s mug, Stormy covered it with her hand.
“Suit yourself.” Vi poured herself a generous dose and picked up her mug. “Kile, why don’t you ask these nice gentlemen about their cattle? Stormy, let’s you and me go out on the porch and get acquainted.”
“Zaagijiwidoon,” Running Bear said softly.
Stormy walked outside, as Running Bear had asked, and leaned against the porch railing, biding her time. Let Vi throw the first punch. She’d duck and then bloody the woman’s nose.
“This sure is a pretty place.” Vi sipped her drink. “I bet Blade loved it here. He wants to live on a ranch real bad.”
Bad enough to lie to get one.
“He’s been workin’ and savin’ to buy one since I first met him,” Vi continued. “Did you know that?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Things come out of him in spits and dribbles.”
It irritated Stormy that Vi knew more about Blade’s past than she did. Looking for something else to focus on, she scanned the ranch yard. In the corral, Belinda rubbed noses with Odin. She forced her eyes to keep moving.
“We were his first sale. He made the down payment on the saloon for us, and when our land sold, he invested what we still had coming in his pa’s bank.”
Despite her resolve to dismiss everything Vi said, Stormy leaned closer. “His father owns a bank?”
“Masters Investment and Trust of St. Louis. Blade used to work there, but something bad happened. He never said what, but I could tell he nursed a deep hurt.”
Stormy backed up, sat in Zed’s rocker, and waited for Vi to say more. Not that she cared. She and Blade were through.
Vi hitched up her skirt to the knee and unwound a ribbon tied to the garter holding up her hose. A ring dropped into her hand. Blade’s ring. She set it on the arm of the rocker. “He wants you to keep this. So you won’t forget him.”
Forget him? She’d never forget his touch or his kiss. Unwanted tears filled her eyes and blurred her sight. She turned her head to blink them away.
When she looked back, Vi was in the house, asking who wanted more coffee.
Stormy picked up the too-big ring and slid it onto her index finger. There was so much she didn’t know about Blade, but dammit, he could have come clean about his past when he accepted Zed’s job offer. Or, the day they finished the fence. Or, on the way home from the Founders Day dance.
She twisted the ring in circles as she thought.
Vi said Blade had been hurt. People hurt people because they were jealous or greedy or just plain mean.
Or, because they lost someone they loved. Zed rarely mentioned Flora. Running Bear never talked about his wife or his son.
Her anger wilted like a yanked-out weed. She pushed the ring firmly onto her finger and walked upstairs to change into clean clothes. She’d slip out the back door and leave a note where Brownie or Zed could find it. Tell them that with luck, she’d find Blade before nightfall. The moon would lend enough light to ride home in the dark.
~ ~ ~
Stormy galloped into Yankton and followed Olin Olsen’s instructions to the livery stable near the docks. She knew Blade and the madam of Purdy’s Place were acquainted. At Founders Day, Purdy had shown him a telegram about his nephew and niece. He’d said she served the best food in Yankton.
Walking quickly to avoid the stares of passers-by, she hunted for the brothel and finally found it on a block between a laundry and a beer brewery. Two burly men stood like sentinels in front of the entryway. She drew a deep breath and pushed through the swinging doors.
Clusters of overstuffed chairs, plush loveseats, and polished tables filled a high-ceilinged room. Everything from the hanging lights to the red tablecloths sported gold tassels. A grand staircase swept up three floors, and a piano player banged out a melody on a small raised stage.
Stormy caught her reflection in a huge mirror mounted over the bar. A country girl stared back at her, small and out of place.
A matron with peacock feathers tucked into her upswept hair washed glasses behind a bar stocked with more bottles and decanters than Stormy ever imagined existed.
“Welcome to Purdy’s Place,” the matron called. “You looking for work?”
Stormy’s cheeks flamed. “I’m looking for a man.”
“Aren’t we all, dearie! This man, is he your husband?”
“Not exactly. He asked me to marry him.”
“And, he’s here for a last fling?”
Stormy gulped. This woman was so matter-of-fact. “He came to catch a steamer, and I need to find him before he goes.”
“Ah, a runner. Are you sure you want to catch him?”
“His name is Blade Masters.”
“Blade’s in town?” The bartender extended her hand. “I’m Purdy Fine.”
“Stormy Hawkins.” Stormy stepped up to the bar and shook her hand.
“So, you’re looking for Blade. I haven’t seen him, but maybe one of my girls took care of him.”
Stormy flinched at the thought of Blade lying with a prostitute.
“As in served him a drink, dearie. Blade’s never walked upstairs.” Purdy pushed aside a curtain behind the bar. “Follow me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Stormy followed her down a long, dim hallway, past several closed doors, and into a back room.
Three girls not much older than her, wearing short lacy robes, ate at a table. One was breathtakingly beautiful, with blond hair twisted high on her head. Encased in black dancing stockings, her long, shapely legs rested across a neighboring stool.
The second was a dark-skinned Amazon with a voluptuous figure and wide-set almond eyes. The third looked precious—porcelain complexion, ruby lips, lustrous raven hair dotted with sparkling pins.
Stormy felt like a prickleweed in a hothouse of exotic orchids.
Purdy waved toward a sideboard set with plates and chafing dishes. “You hungry?”
Stormy’s stomach yowled. “I can’t. I spent all my money getting here.”
“You’re a blue-eyed redhead,” the porcelain beauty said. “One shift and you’ll make enough for a week’s worth of meals.” She patted the stool next to hers. “Sit. Eat.”
“Go ahead, dearie. I’ll put it on Blade’s tab.” Purdy looked at her girls. “Stormy is looking for Blade Masters. Anyone seen him today?”
The responses came at once. “No.” “Wish I had.” “Heez very beautiful.”
While she ate, more girls drifted in. She learned that the blonde was named Aimee, and the raven-haired girl was Marie. They plied her with questions and commiserated with her situation. No one had seen Blade for weeks.
“You said Blade intends to catch a steamer,” Purdy said. “Going up river or down?”
“Down.” Stormy’s heart sank. It would be evening soon. Olin had warned her to stay off the pier, and she didn’t dare to wait near the docks for Blade to stroll by. Yankton’s riverfront wasn’t safe. And, Blade might already be gone.
The blonde jumped up. “Cheevers knows the schedule.” She strode out without looking back.
“Cheevers is the junior dockmaster,” the Amazon explained. “He keeps a close watch on who comes and goes.”
“And, Grace likes to thank him.” Marie ran her tongue slowly over her ruby lips.
“Is she going to . . .?” Stormy’s cheeks heated again.
Peals of laughter filled the room.
“Grace has her sights set on Cheevers,” Aimee said. “She’s helping herself as much as you.”
“Well, I haven’t heard a freighter whistle all day.” Purdy turned toward Stormy. “I’ll bet Blade is still around. You want to gussie up while we wait for Grace?”
“Let us dress you.” Marie clapped her hands. “It will be fun.”
Stormy shook her head vigorously. She was a cowgirl, not a painted lady.
“You should do it, dearie,” Purdy admonished. “Blade’s a man, and the best way to lure a man is to tease his senses.”
She did want to convince Blade to come home, and these women were being very nice. There was no harm in playing along, if only to pass the time. She smiled. “All right.”
Chattering like magpies, Marie and Aimee drew her up a back stairway and into a room littered with costumes and feather boas. They stripped off her shirt and jeans, tugged on beribboned cotton drawers, and cinched her waist into a lacy purple and black corset that plumped her breasts into oversized orbs. Marie sooted her eyelashes and rouged her lips while Aimee twirled and pinned her hair.
After draping a sleek, lapelled ivory robe around her shoulders and spritzing her with a cologne that smelled like wild rose petals, they spun her around to face a mirror.
Stormy gasped. She looked like a Harper’s Magazine coquette, primped for her wedding night. She almost wished she could have a souvenir photograph taken.
Aimee fussed with a lock of hair that seemed perfectly in place. “You are beautiful, no?”
“She is beautiful, yes.” Marie found Stormy’s hands and pulled her out of the chair. “We have to show everyone.”
“Oh, no. This was fun, but . . .”
Marie made a sad face. “At least let Purdy see. She has been very kind to you.”
Stormy had to agree. “Just Purdy. Then, I have to change back into me.”
Instantly brightening, Marie pulled her down the stairs.
The back room was deserted. Aimee tiptoed down the corridor and back. She pantomimed that Purdy was in one of the rooms.
“Let’s surprise her.” Marie whispered. “It will be fun.”
A wave of silliness crashed over Stormy. This outfit, being in a brothel, the acceptance of these girls, and the uncertainty of ever seeing Blade again. She felt like doing something crazy. With a wink, she counted, “One. Two. Run!”
Marie followed on her heels.
She heard Purdy’s voice, and then a man’s, just as Marie shoved her through the doorway.
The broad-shouldered man turned around.
Stormy clapped her hands to her mouth.