Chapter Seven
After straightening her hat, Jenny smoothed down the front of her skirt, tugged at her sleeves and took a deep breath to settle herself. As she approached the door to the milliner’s shop, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the picture window. She barely recognized herself. The dove gray dress was one of her mother’s favorites, second only to the burgundy velvet in which they had laid her to rest. It had pleated insets of dark blue at the neck and cuffs. The overskirt was trimmed with pleated frills and ruching at the waistline, giving it a slim-fitting silhouette, but the medium train seemed a bit much. She felt uncomfortable wearing it, almost guilty, but she had little choice since nothing else fit.
Jenny had lost weight; the combination of caring for her mother night and day before she passed, followed by working long hours on the farm ever since were taking their toll. Constant worry about Will and how to pay the pile of debts papa had accumulated robbed her of any appetite. The debt kept her from sleeping too. That’s what brought her to town today. She needed to find work. The dressmaker, two of the restaurants, the mercantile, and several others had said no. The milliner’s shop was her eighth stop. If Miss Nesbitt turned her down too, she didn’t know what she and Will were going to do. She had to find a way to put food on the table.
Ten minutes later, she was back on the boardwalk, rejected once more. Except for the laundry and bathhouse who had no openings, most of the businesses were family owned and employed only family members, or skilled, highly recommended experienced workers. Crestfallen, she walked down the street to the small park on the corner. Finding a bench, she sat dejectedly, contemplating what to do next.
Her father was gone. She hadn’t heard from him in days. Not a word or a note as to his whereabouts. Henry and Heath’s come to Jesus meeting with him on the day of her mama’s funeral had straightened him up for a while. Jenny had seen shades of her old father. He was sad, but sober, going through the motions of working the farm and tending the horses. Then one evening, the stranger had returned. She’d been working in the vegetable garden behind the house. This late in the season, it continued to produce hardy beets, carrots, and radishes. As she gathered the last of the vegetables, she heard voices raised in anger and went to see what it was about. When she’d come around the side of the house, she saw the same dandified man from the barn all those weeks ago riding away. Wanting answers, she’d gone to the house only to find her papa at the kitchen table, throwing back a goodly sized glass of whiskey.
“Papa, you promised,” she’d cried out, hastening forward to grab the bottle, which she promptly poured down the sink. When she turned back, her papa was slumped forward, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. She approached, her hand squeezing his arm. At her touch, he turned to her, burying his face in her belly and holding on tightly. Tears wet her own eyes, seeing him so agonized.
“My sweet Jenny, I’m so sorry for failing you. Your mama and I wanted so much more than this for you.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“Papa, please, if that’s true, no more whiskey. We’ll get through this, but Will and I need you to stay sober, please.”
His arms tightened. After a moment, he nodded.
“Who was that man? I’ve seen him here before.”
He pushed back, looking up at her. His face tightened and his reddened eyes flickered. Was that fear she saw?
“He’s no one,” he claimed. “Put him from your mind, Jenny girl.” He stood, adding tersely, “I’ve got business in town. I’ll be late.” Then he was out the door.
He’d returned after midnight, staggering up the stairs, waking both her and Will when he tripped and fell at the top of the landing. They’d had to drag him to his bedroom. As he was too heavy for them to lift, they’d had to leave him on the floor. After that, he’d returned to his old ways with a bottle in hand day and night, another promise broken. When the bill collectors came, he ran them off, standing on the porch cussing and waving his shotgun, the whole while stinking drunk. The day after that, he vanished. Jenny had no other option than to try to keep the farm running on her own. It wasn’t long before she realized things weren’t much different with him gone.
The previous morning, more harsh news arrived. The Jacksons hadn’t been gone thirty minutes before the bank manager knocked on the door with a foreclose notice, the day before that the mercantile had stopped advancing her credit. She’d sold all but one of the horses, a nag so old she couldn’t get an offer. She’d also sold or bartered away many of her mother’s treasures, including Jenny’s beloved piano, which had been hauled away for a fraction of what it was worth. All that combined with the pittance she made giving music lessons didn’t bring them current and if she didn’t find another fifty dollars, they would be cast out, left destitute and without a roof over their heads.
In desperation, she’d gone to see Jed. That had been yet another disaster. Not having a horse to ride, she’d walked to his farm. It was late afternoon, nigh on suppertime when she approached the large, three-story house. Lost in thought as she climbed the steps, she didn’t notice the couple enjoying the quiet privacy of the porch.
“Jenny?” Her name in Jed’s tenor had her jerking her head to the right.
He was sitting with Belinda Ogleby. Her eyes dropped to their clasped hands. Politely he rose to greet her, relinquishing Belinda’s hand with a squeeze. Jenny’s hopes were dashed. Not that she had feelings for Jed other than friendship, but she had no idea what to do now. She plastered on a fake smile and nodded to each in turn.
“Jed. Belinda.”
“What brings you by? I stopped by a few days back to see how you were getting along, but no one was home.”
Belinda also stood. “I was so sorry to hear of your mama’s passing.”
She was a sweet girl, a year younger than Jenny, friendly and kind. Never had a mean word passed her lips to Jenny’s knowledge. She was perfect for Jed.
“Thank you. We’re making do, although it is very hard.” They both nodded in understanding. She needed to make some excuse and get out of there. “Um, your mother, Jed, is she in? I had a question about—uh, the um… the new stove. It’s persnickety and I thought—”
“She’s inside, let me get her.”
After that, she’d made small talk with Belinda, asked Mrs. Boyd about a made-up problem with the coal stove, and left quickly.
All in all, yesterday had been a rough day.
With tear-filled eyes, she scanned the peace of the park in contrast with the busy street ahead of her. The next corner was Sixth Street. From her vantage point she could see it was a hive of activity. She could find work there without a problem as long as she didn’t mind working in a saloon or a brothel. Hopelessness weighed on her as she began to understand what drove women into those lines of work. Will had to eat. He had to have a roof over his head, clothes on his back, and he needed to finish his schooling.
She pondered her options for some time, then, out of desperation, stood and began walking. Her steps didn’t slow until she reached the corner of Sixth and Garfield. Eyeing the infamous street up and down, she took a deep breath, questioned her sanity, and then walked down the seediest street in town.
Help wanted signs appeared in almost every window, although some like Madame Paulina’s brothel, said ‘girls wanted.’ The dance hall’s sign said ‘dancing girls wanted.’ She drew attention from men and women alike, receiving curious stares and several rude comments. Some of the men whistled loudly or called to her using words that singed her ears. One man leered openly as he cooed, “Here kitty, kitty,” and began heading her way.
She was ready to turn tail and run, when a sign in the window of the Red Eye Saloon caught her eye: piano player wanted. As the man drew near, she gathered her nerve and hurried that way.
* * *
Frowning at her reflection, especially the heavy garish makeup and brassy red wig, she didn’t like what she saw, nor did she recognize the woman staring back at her. It couldn’t be helped, however. Before leaving her bedroom, she took care to cover the bright pink satin dress with her cloak. The low neckline was shocking and not something she wanted her young brother to see since she was practically spilling out of it. The woman who hired her, who’d been dressed much more suggestively, said she must dress the part.
“When will papa be back, Jenny?”
Will’s voice came at her the moment she stepped into the hallway. Her brother had asked the same question a hundred times in the past hour and her patience was wearing thin.
“I don’t know, Will. He didn’t tell me either.”
Following on her heels as she descended the stairs, his questions persisted. “Why do you have to go out tonight?”
“Honey, we’ve been over this.” Her words were intentionally drawn out as she struggled to keep irritation out of her voice. He was anxious, she got that, and springing this on him at the last minute was unfair, but Jenny had no idea they would want her to start tonight. She couldn’t say no; they needed the money.
“I have to work so we don’t lose the farm, Will.”
“I don’t like being here by myself.”
Her conscience nagged at her as she saw his pout. “I could send you to the Petersons for the night, but I’d have to think up a good story.”
“I’m not a baby, Jenny, I’m almost nine. I can stay, I just don’t gotta like it.”
“I know, Will, and I’m sorry, but we need the money. It’s only for a few weeks until the regular girl comes back. Then I’ll have to find something else.”
At his nod, she squeezed his shoulders. Turning back to the mirror, she secured her hat with two long pins, straightening it ever so slightly. She huffed a humorless laugh, as if anyone at the saloon was going to care that it was crooked.
As a knock sounded at the door, she turned to face Will. “That’s my ride. Remember the rules?”
“Yes, keep the door locked and don’t let anyone in. I know them, Jenny. You’ve told me a million times.”
“I’m just making sure.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He was going to be tall like their papa, she mused as she ruffled his hair. Soon he’d be as tall as she was.
“You look funny, Jenny. That wig is ugliest red color I’ve ever seen. It looks like your head is on fire,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think mama would like it very much either.”
“No,” she answered, with a sad little laugh. “I don’t suppose she would.”
Will was right. It was a hideous flame red and not one that would be found naturally on any human, but it was a crucial part of her disguise. If anyone figured out who was under the tawdry costume, she’d be ruined.
A loud series of thumps rattled the door.
“Lock the door behind me, Will.”
As she stepped outside, she quickly shut the door behind her, not wanting Will to see the driver, or the other way around. The big burly man tipped his hat and gave her a friendly grin.
“Evenin’, Miss Jenny.”
“It’s Mary, remember, George?”
“Yes, yes, sorry, miss. Mum’s the word.”