The Dove House
Nebraska Territory 1874
The red stage coach bumped to a stop, Emma waited for the dust to settle before moving to the door. She waited longer, and when she was finally satisfied a gust of hot wind stirred littering the sky, the coach and her person in gritty dirt. The door flew open nearly causing the soul to jump from her body. She steadied her plum velvet bonnet and secured the taffeta ribbon beneath her chin.
“Thomas Schuster!” She leveled a glare at her grinning husband, her mouth puckered just right for a scolding. “There is no need to go whipping open carriage doors and frightening me half to death.” She pulled on her lilac gloves, buttoning the tiny pearl button.
“Yes, ma’am.” She looked from his sweating head, to his elegant brown suit all of it filmed in dust. He extended an eager hand inside.
“And for heaven’s sake what are you so giddy about? I have seen nothing of this country that requires a toothy grin. It’s all dust, grass and smelly cattle. And the stories of savage Indians have kept me awake for the past six months with worry for your safety.” She accepted his hand in alighting. When her feet met ground she had the urge to clamber back inside and curl into a ball all the way back to New York. If her ridiculous husband hadn’t read that atrocious article in the paper she would be in her lovely morning room taking her tea with her friends. Instead she was here, in some sort of desert in the West.
“That carriage ride was the longest, dirtiest, most harrowing experience of all my life and that includes the ship across the Atlantic. Why you are just lucky I wasn’t attacked and murdered by some rampaging tribe. You can be sure that I would have haunted you to your dying day had that happened. ”
“It’s called a stage not a carriage dear and I know you’re bully enough to handle any old Indians.” Thomas squeezed her shoulders, then offered his arm in escort. “Emma my dear, what do you think of Primrose?”
He swept his arm displaying the town of newly constructed saloons, storefronts and rooming houses, to use the term loosely. They stepped onto the steps of Lungren’s General Store amongst the bustle of shoppers and cowboys. Her lilac gown and gaiters seemed out of place with all the calico fabric and sturdy boots passing by. The horses and herds of cattle gave a pungent odor that crept into everything. She would soon smell of a stable. It was awful in every sense of the word and she hated it. Dirt and smell and wide open spaces. It frightened her. Hollering men and saloon girls! Out in broad daylight, at least in New York they had the decency to keep it in their own district.
She would admit it was nice to be back in her husband’s company again, she had sorely missed him, but this place was awful and he had sunk every dime they had made at their brewery in New York and then borrowed from the bank up to their fannies. If his dream of prospering in this booming cattle town didn’t pan out she didn’t know what they’d do.
Still there was adventure in the air and the excitement of starting over in a new life. She hoped this place would give them children, though what they would learn here was unimaginable. They had been denied the blessings of a family so far, perhaps here would be better. Thomas was certainly happy, just like a schoolboy again. They stopped in the alleyway and were bumped into by some surly looking scoundrel type who glared them up and down. Emma huddled closer to Thomas.
“And over there, Emma, will be the brewery.” He pointed to a place behind the buildings in the open prairie. Men were already at work and the structure was taking shape amidst the blue sky and yellow-green grass. Boards were being lifted and hammered into place. “I told ya didn’t I? This place is full of opportunity just waiting to be snatched up.” He smiled into her eyes and she again remembered why she loved him so dearly.
“It’s wonderful, darling.” Even though she wasn’t certain, she couldn’t bring herself to crush his spirits. His beaming smile was encouragement enough.
“Isn’t it?”
Thomas was taking in the landscape and lazy current that swept the town along and Emma tried to do the same. After all, this was her new home, she better find something to like about it.
“Let’s go to Dove House now. I want to show it to you. Wait till you see it.” Thomas was all but quivering with pride and excitement it was hard for her not to catch the enthusiasm.
Thomas had written to her during their nearly one year separation detailing the building of the house and the brewery and every bit and bob about Primrose. He had named their home after a pair of doves nesting in the trees. It was those letters that had her apprehensive to join him here and live their life. It seemed such a hard life on the prairie and she wasn’t sure she was up for it.
They had begun walking the boardwalk again when Thomas leaned closer to her. “You’ll have nothing to worry about, my dear. I have hired servants for you, you won’t have to lift a finger. And I have furnished all the rooms save the bedroom suite. I will leave that for you to do as you like.”
It sounded all so expensive and unnecessary to Emma. The people around here didn’t seem to be concerned with material things at all, not like New York. Not a one of them were dressed in any sort of finery, she was making a note to get different dresses. If she were going to fit in and find friends around here she was going to have to change some things. Even get rid of the help. She knew how poor folk looked at people like she and Thomas. Until the brewery took off, she had been one of those people.
“Oh my darling, that’s not necessary. I’m sure any old furnishings will be fine. You know I don’t need anything special.”
“But you are special and I want to give you the world, Emma. And besides that, I’ve had a bit of luck at the tables.” He patted the breast of his jacket.
“Oh, Thomas, don’t tell me you’ve been in one of those vulgar establishments.”
He stopped walking and held her at arm’s length. She could sink into his chocolate brown eyes full of love and passion and not surface for days. He was about to say something more when a man yelled his name and Thomas turned at the sound of it. Emma was going to have to get used to the rough culture in Primrose. She instantly recoiled from the vision of anger and grit standing not ten feet from them. This cowboy was in dire need of a bath and a shave. And the jangling he made when he moved gave her a chill.
She opened her mouth to give him the set down he deserved when a glint of silver blinded her momentarily and then a blast rang out over the street. Smoke billowed up and she felt Thomas clutch at her dress and nearly drag her down as he fell backwards. Screams and pounding feet split the air. The acrid smell of gunpowder and tinge of blood filled her nostrils as she followed Thomas to the ground.
She didn’t remember screaming but her throat was hoarse. She couldn’t remember getting to this enormous house or changing her dress. Who had made the tea in her cup? And why was the young man with the black bag trying to put something in it? However, she did remember Thomas’ blood spattered face and fading eyes, she remembered the voice of the man who shot him yelling about being swindled and spewing profanities her delicate ears had never been exposed to. Then another shot cracked and a badge was flashed proclaiming his authority.
The doctor, this young man with the brown bottle, rushed to her husband and told her he was sorry. Sorry. What a silly thing to say to a woman clutching her dead husband. He hadn’t pulled the trigger, he hadn’t played cards and with a bad man he likely cheated. The doctor wasn’t the one who had sold everything they owned and forced his wife to move to a wild land full of murderers.
God help her for loving the man who did do all of those things.
“Here, Mrs. Schuster. Please drink this.”
Emma pushed the laudanum laced cup away. “No.” She sat at the beautiful dark wood table with her hands folded in front of her. The maid followed the doctor to the door, this was all happening in some suspended reality. Emma had never seen things so clearly before, but the moment she was placed in this chair in her newly built mansion it all opened up before her. Continuing her husband’s habit of voraciously reading newspapers was paying off. She already knew what had to be done. This was an unforgiving land, especially for a woman. Well no matter, she would make it.
The plan lay before her like bricks in a paved road. She needed money. The money that had been in Thomas’ jacket pocket was now ruined with his blood and she was certain they had none in the bank. She would go tomorrow and find out. Her heart splintered as she thought of her beloved, dead and soon to be buried. She closed her eyes fighting the sorrow and tears. Those things would do her no good now.
Before she and Thomas had immigrated from Germany she had been a seamstress in her father’s tailor shop. That is how they met. He came in for a new suit. Normally she would have stayed in the back but her father had misplaced his measuring ribbon and Emma had to come to the front and lend him hers.
Her breath caught in her chest every time she thought about that moment. His ice blue eyes, sharp and kind met hers and she found herself slipping into their warmth. He was so handsome and stately. His sturdy shoulders required a special cut to his jacket that only her father could provide.
She had seen Thomas in town, but never made eye contact. He was the son to the Shuster Brewing empire, he had prominence and wealth and was not within a lowly tailor’s daughter’s reach. But here he was in her father’s shop, smiling at her and joking with her father about how beautiful his daughter was. His smile spread like honey through her and she was done for.
He was ten years older and she was completely overwhelmed by his knowledge and experience. He had been places she had never heard of, done things boys only dreamed of. Their courtship was not long before they were wed. He was her whole life but she found that being the wife of a well to do business man was confusing, upsetting and exciting.
She had made so many blunders early on in their marriage that she considered moving back home and saving Thomas the disgrace of an incompetent wife. But with every mistake she made he would simply kiss her, smile and tell her she would soon get the hang of things. He had encouraged a friendship between her and another wife of a man Thomas had close business relations to help her traverse the minefield of manners and formalities of the elite.
The woman named Elise had called upon her two days after her husband’s suggestion.
“Your husband was certain you would not take the initiative to call upon me so here I am calling on you.”
Her bluntness had set the tone for their entire relationship. They were fast friends, nearly inseparable and when Thomas’ father passed away and he decided to expand the business into America, something his father was adamantly opposed to, Elise was supportive and helped Emma pack. They both cried when they said goodbye.
Sitting at the table watching the sun rise through the trees she wondered what advice Elise would have for her now. Elise had been fearful for Emma moving farther West. Everyone new how untamed and full of outlaws it was. Turns out she was right and now Emma realized that Thomas had been enamored with the idea of a wild land and a wild life. It didn’t suit him though and his corpse lying in the sitting room was proof of that.
Emma rose from the table, her bones were stiff from being prone for so long. She made a fresh pot of coffee. She had once tried to enjoy tea like the rest of high society but could never enjoy it as much as her strong German coffee.
Now she was completely alone in a foreign land. She should be more afraid than she was. The shock of Thomas’ death hadn’t really settled in, she had spent six months without him before arriving in Primrose it simply felt like he was still away building their empire.
The issue of funds was not the only worry Emma had. She didn’t know what to do about the brewery. She didn’t know if the men would keep building now that her husband was dead, she didn’t know how they were paid she didn’t even know what the plans were. So much to do.
She was uncertain if anyone would come to her husband’s funeral service. She had no idea what his standing in this God-forsaken town was. He was murdered in cold blood in the middle of the street. Something told her the crickets would be chirping while the reverend performed Thomas’ last rights. A wave of emotion at the thought of living without her dear husband gushed over her weakening her knees. With her head in her hand she gasped for a breath but sunk lower in desperation.
“Damn you Thomas! How could you do this to me?” Emma swept her arm over the table sending everything to the floor in a clatter of glass and silver but no amount of destruction would ease the pain in her chest or the ache of an empty soul.
For the first time since arriving here she left the kitchen, walked through the beautiful dining room with the mahogany table that seated twenty. She ran her hand over the lacquered top knowing she would never have that many grace her table. It was dining for one. She straightened her shoulders and ventured towards a doorway she hoped would lead to her bedroom. She didn’t know where it was but knowing Thomas it would be on the top floor, east end of the house. He liked to rise with the sun.
The staircase she found was breathtaking in its sweeping grandeur. She laid a hand on the cool wood of the hand carved railing. The stairs were broad enough to stand eight people shoulder to shoulder. Her feet sunk into the blood red carpet as she climbed admiring the silk wall paper, the prime spot for portraits. Portraits she would never hang of a family she would never have. When she reached the first landing hanging in front of her was the painting Thomas had brought over from their homeland when they immigrated to The States.
Her sorrow was nearly consuming. She would never see that land again. Never hear her Papa’s gentle voice or see her mother’s sparkling smile. She was alone.
On the second story of Dove House Emma was enthralled with the open room and many doors surrounding it. The wide window at the opposite side was sheathed in filmy lace allowing for the bright sunlight to warm the air. So many rooms. Why had Thomas thought she would ever need so many? Her belly leapt with the knowledge that her womb would never hold the children they had so desperately wanted. She placed her hand over it, pressing hard.
She finally discovered her bedroom, she knew it from the oversized feather bed and complete lack of any decoration. Thomas was right, he had left it for her to do with as she pleased. Only she didn’t feel much like fixing up a room that she wouldn’t be sharing with her husband.
Her abolutions were slow and methodical. She took great care in braiding and twisting her hair. She pinched color in her cheeks and finally choose the only black dress that she owned to wear into town. The fresh air was healing to her shredded nerves during her three mile walk into town. The dirt puffed up as she passed the wooden sign welcoming her to Primrose.
Her chest tightened as memories of her first voyage into this town washed over her. She gripped her bag passing slowly, watching for any sign of trouble. She didn’t know where the bank was located but this being such a small town it couldn’t be difficult to find. She tensed and her stomach churned as she hurried past the slatted doors of the saloon. The place her husband had obviously frequented.
She solemnly hoped no one would recognize her or worse attempt to speak to her. Her heels thumped against the dusty wood of the boardwalk a man tipped in a chair beneath the window chewing on s splinter of wood. His face was hidden by the brim of his strange hat and her heart thumped in anticipation but he acted as though she weren’t even there and she made it past him. She spied the sign above a newly constructed building, Bank. In her anxiousness to get to the door she accidently bumped into a woman coming out of the general store.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand to her chest and took a step forward.
“That’s no trouble Mrs. Schuster.”
Hearing her name from a woman she didn’t know startled her and she stopped. The woman she saw was breathtakingly beautiful. Emma had never seen a shade of hair like that. It was a dark auburn that was set off by a pair of the bluest eyes, deep sapphire that twinkled in the sun. Her smart hat was tipped at an angle and served the sole purpose of being stylish rather than practical. Her dress made from a shocking red and not a suitable color for day wear was tailored to perfection and made from the finest fabric. Emma knew it had to have come from France. She had ogled a dress like it in a store window in New York. A store that even she didn’t have funds enough to enter.
Emma had worked under the assumption that she and Thomas were the only ones in Primrose to dress like that.
“Yes, I know who you are.”
Emma shook her head at the gall of this woman to speak to her like that. “What?”
“Look ma’am, I know your situation. I can tell you that you won’t find the answers you want by visiting the place you’re heading.”
How did this woman know where Emma was going?
“In fact, I had plans on calling on you later today but I can see you’re a woman much like me. You like to get down to business so I have a proposition for you.”
Emma was sure her mouth was gaping she had never met such a forward woman in all her life. She raised to her full height and looked down her nose. “I assure you, uh?”
“Belle, Mrs. Shuster. My name is Belle St. Vincent.”
With a huff Emma continued, “I assure you Ms. St. Vincent that any proposition you have for me is of no consequence. Good day.”
The smile that curved Belle’s red lips could almost be one of admiration. She tipped her head regally. “Well when you change your mind you can find me the Crystal Palace. I will wait in the lobby for one hour.” She grabbed a handful of gown and strutted away.
Emma only felt sorry for a second after she slammed the door of the bank and on that pompous, pencil-necked banker who had the gall to offer to buy The Dove House. She would burn it to the ground before she would allow the likes of him to get his dirty little hands on it. Emma stormed across the street adjusting her bonnet along the way, wincing when she jerked the ribbons too tight pinching her skin.
Her fancy boots, now ruined from the dirt, clomped on the boardwalk as she nipped past doorways and windows in her rush to separate herself from that financial dungeon. The bankers words were still buzzing in her ears burning her brain. She had never been so angry in all her life. She had never been treated like that in all her life. Her purposeful strides haulted in front of the door she was seeking. She had passed it not thirty minutes ago when she had the asinine notion she could perhaps gain a foothold on the financial status and need of her home.
Now that she understood completely the bank would be of no help to her she needed a new plan and she was in search of the person who could help her with that. At least she hoped she could. With a deep breath, Emma straightened her shoulders lifted her chin and turned the handle of The Crystal Palace. She tried to hold her shock inside at what she was greeted with. A piano was clinking in the background with a tune she had never heard before, a tall man with a dapper mustache stood behind a long counter with a brass rail toweling a glass. He set it down and gave her a once over. His brows raised and she knew she had been identified as a first timer.
Her steps, a little less confident that before, weaved between round tables surrounded with low backed chairs right up to the man. She steeled her chin to keep from wavering.
“Excuse me, sir?” She looked directly into the man’s dark eyes.
“How may I help you ma’am?”
He leaned against the bar counter with a cocked grin and Emma gripped her bag tighter and narrowed her eyes determined not to let him get the better of her.
“I see you found the way Mrs. Schuster.”
The silky voice drew the attention of both Emma and the bartender. Emma glanced at the man giving him her the same look she gave Thomas when he had misbehaved then walked to the table.
“Please, sit down.” Belle motioned to the chair across from her.
Emma’s stomach knot tripled in size and with every passing second her heart rate had ticked up. She took the chair. As soon as she was seated Belle sat up from her reclining position and wrapped her hand around her glass.
“Would you like one? It’s not the best whiskey but it serves its purpose.”
Emma cleared her throat, “No, thank you.”
Belle made a face, “You’ll change your mind after being her for a couple weeks.” She drained the amber liquid that made her nose twitch and set the glass down with a thud. “As I said before, you won’t have any luck with the men in this town. They don’t believe women have anything to offer above the neck.”
Emma knew her eyes shot open, but she tamped her surprise back down. “As I have most recently become aware. So Ms. St. Vincent you mentioned having a proposition for me.”
Emma had witnessed Thomas’s deal making enough to know not to give too much away or agree to anything until you heard the whole proposal and found it met with your terms. So she waited while the blue-eyed vixen sized her up with a smirk on her pretty face.
“I do. And I think you have the constitution to make what I’m offering very profitable for the both of us.”
“And what are you offering?” Emma held her gaze.
“A respectable rooming house.” The look Belle was giving her made Emma believe there was a double meaning. “This town only has saloons and body houses to offer to travelers. And while that ain’t all bad it doesn’t serve the more… refined group that travels through here. There’s a call in the market for just such a place where fine men and women can rest their weary bones away from the ruckus of Primrose. Your house is the prime location to meet these needs.”
Emma waited trying to sort through all the facial expressions and word inflections that Belle was using while she spoke. She finally landed on the meaning. Her jaw dropped just enough to make Belle nod.
“You want me to open a whore house?!”
“Well, it hasn’t taken long for you to adopt the crudeness of Primrose.”
The gall of this woman knew no bounds. Emma’s outrage found new heights. She couldn’t believe that Belle was sitting there calm as you like casually offering her challenge.
“Me? You must be mad! You’re the one making this vulgar proposition to me and you have the nerve to call me crude?!” Emma shot out of her chair, finished with this conversation. She had come here in hopes of finding an answer and found more insult instead. She didn’t bother bidding her good day before she turned her back.
“Will you go back East then Mrs. Schuster? After they take possession of your big house?”
Emma’s steps halted and her shoulders straightened. She didn’t have anything to go back to. She had no family, no money and no home. She willed her feet to move, to leave this place and the outrageous red –haired perpetrator but they were like boulders. The seconds ticked by and the noose tightened. She tried fervently to find another way, there had to be another answer to her predicament. She only saw sweat shops, butcher houses and maid service. Those were the only options for a penniless widowed woman unless she could find some other man who would take her on as his wife.
That thought turned her stomach. Thomas was her one and only love and she would not sell herself to some man who needed a mother for his children or a slave on his farm. She knew those were the only available men around here for a woman like her. Emma set her jaw, pivoted on her heel and backtracked to the table. She settled on the edge of her chair and placed her bag on her lap.
“What are your terms Ms. St. Vincent?”
Belle nodded and met Emma’s eyes to her surprise. She had expected taunting and gloating.
“Please, call me Belle. If we are going to live together, we should be on a first name basis.”
Emma raised her brows. “Live together?”
“My terms.” Belle lifted her tumbler at the man behind the bar.
“I see. What else did you have in mind?”
Belle paused for a moment studying Emma, she licked her ruby lips and leaned forward. “I think we may want to have this conversation in private.”
Gooseflesh peppered her skin with the wave of sickness, Emma swallowed, took a prolonged blink and rose from her chair. “Do you need help with your luggage?”
A small smile lifted the corners of Belle’s mouth. “I like you Emma.” The shrewd look she was giving her actually bolstered Emma’s resolve. “You’ll see, we’ll be fast friends. I promise you won’t regret our agreement.”
Emma raised her chin. “We don’t have an agreement yet.”
The smile grew into a full-fledged grin. “That spunk will prove useful to you. I’m happy to see you have it.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “I’ll take care of my luggage.”
Through clenched teeth Emma answered, “I’m going to go back to the house.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Emma bobbed her head once and walked out of the Crystal Palace. Her heart had been pounding so hard during her exchange with Belle, she had to take a moment to catch her breath. She wrapped her gloved hand around the rough post, looking out over the street with new eyes. She felt as though she had aged a lifetime in the past thirty minutes. What had she just agreed to? She couldn’t believe that life had brought her here. That she was reduced to making deals in saloons with a harlot to survive. In a matter of twenty-four hours she had been widowed, impoverished, and madamed. She was embarrassed to say that she was proud of herself for managing her situation.
A warm breeze played in her hair and dusted her face with a coat of grit, she was getting used to that. She walked north out of town wondering what Thomas would say about what she had just done. Not that it mattered, he had left her in quite a predicament by jumping into things without a set plan and now she was left to clean up his mess. Her chest tightened with the stress, her jaw ached from holding in her grief and her stomach was knotted so tight it felt like she had swallowed a dozen stones.
Emma stopped in the shade of the trees to take in The Dove House. This massive, over-bearing brick mansion was now hers, if the bank didn’t come and take it from her. The payment was due at the end of the month. Belle better know what she’s doing. Sixty dollars. May as well be a thousand when you only had five coins in your bag.
It truly was a magnificent place, reaching into the sky in all its red bricked, white trimmed glory. She wished she could like it better, but the entire weight of it was settled firmly on her shoulders. Hers and hers alone.
The clatter of hooves and grind of wagon wheels echoed behind her, she turned to find her new business partner perched beside some man in one of those funny looking hats. Emma’s shoulders dropped as her future drew closer.
Emma led Belle up the stairs with straight shoulders and a sick stomach. Now that the woman was in her house reality of what she had just agreed to was making her skin tingle.
“You can have this room.” Emma opened the second door and stood back while Belle looked in.
“Um, not that I won’t be spending quite a bit of time in this room but am I supposed to use the tub as bed?”
Emma darted a glance into the room finding a washer basin on a long wooden table, folded towels and a large brass tub in the center of the room. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? You haven’t been here even two days.”
Emma felt a comforting hand on her arm and for the first time since her husband was shot dead in the street tears fell from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. Her shoulders drooped and shook with uncontrollable sobs. The stress of the journey, her husband’s murder and near bankruptcy was more than she had ever had to handle and she wasn’t cut out for it. She found herself in Belle’s surprisingly strong embrace.
“There, there Emma.” Belle crooned into her ear and patted her back. “What happened to you was unfair even by my standards.”
Emma was oddly comforted by the other woman’s sympathetic words. It felt so good to be touched by another person, she had been laced so tightly holding in all her feelings, having to be strong and take care of business that she absolutely no experience with that she hadn’t taken the time to grieve.
“But think about it Emma, you’re taking control of your situation. You do us womenfolk proud.”
Emma heard the words but her heart was too heavy to answer with anything but more weeping.
“C’mon. You’re tuckered out. Let’s get you into bed.”
Belle turned her holding firmly to her waist while Emma rested her weary head on the red-head’s shoulder allowing her to walk her down the hall. When her head hit the pillow she closed her eyes and was drawn into a dreamless sleep. The last thing she remembered was the enveloping comfort of a blanket being drawn over her.
“Sleep well, sweetheart.”
A clatter of dishes and thump of a tray made Emma raise her head. She squeezed her eye shut when the shutter of an opening shade shocked her sleep-hazed brain into consciousness. She threw her hand up in defense.
“What are you doing here?” her voice croaked and she swallowed hard.
Belle spun on her heel and plunked her hands on her voluptuous hips. How was it possible she could look so beautiful all the time?
“You’ve been asleep for almost two days it’s time you eat something and wash up.” She adjusted the tea cup on the tray. “Also the preacher’s downstairs waiting on you and as you can imagine that makes me as jumpy as a virgin in a house full of cowboys.”
Emma cleared her throat with that unexpected blow back to her new reality. “Yes, I can see your predicament.” Emma tossed the covers off shaking off a wave of dizziness. “I’ll be down shortly.”
“Eat something first, I’d hate for you to pass out and tumble down the stairs.” She swiped her hands over her dress and walked from the room.
With a fresh dress and pinched cheeks she descended the stairs, the words Belle spoke struck her funny bone. The thought of tumbling down the stairs at the minister’s feet would be mortifying.
“Here she is father, uh, preacher, um.”
That was the first time she had seen Belle anything but calm and direct.
“It’s reverend, ma’am.”
The flame in the young reverend’s cheeks told Emma this may be his first encounter with a woman like Belle. She sympathized with the poor man.
With a quake in his voice and a fidget in his stance he addressed her, “Mrs. Schuster. I’m Reverend Upton, I’m so sorry for your loss ma’am.” He glanced at Belle and clutched tighter to his Bible. “I’m here to talk to you about your husband’s burial.”
Her brow furrowed at the mention of her dear husband’s demise. “Thank you reverend. Shall we?” She motioned to the dining room and ushered him in that direction.
They settled at the table with him in the next chair. She couldn’t believe how young he was, this must be his first mission assignment.
“I’ll get tea.”
Belle rushed from the room and Emma met the reverends darting gaze and shaking hand with as much decorum as she could muster.
“I didn’t realize that you had brought a friend along with you. The sheriff had said you were alone and would need my services.”
Emma was secretly mortified but her innocent expression remained intact. She knew what question he was implying and frankly she didn’t think it was any of his business. She wasn’t his parishioner and was desperate to save herself from living as an indentured servant. Even God would have to understand that a woman had to do sinful things to survive.
The meeting with the reverend was awkward to say the least. Belle over-poured the tea scalding the poor man’s hand. The finishing act was when she poked him in the eye helping him with his jacket. Emma was completely horrified when she closed the door behind Reverend Upton, a towel wrapped around his burn and a squinty eye. And through all of it he had smiled and graciously accepted the apologies.
“What is wrong with you?”
Belle smoothed her dress and patted her hair keeping her eyes averted. “Men of God get under my bustle.” She pressed a hand to her bosom and rolled her eyes. “Not like that!” She walked away and Emma followed. “I mean they just get me all jittery acting like a fool.”
Emma helped her gather the dishes. “Your sinful life prodding your conscience?”
Seeing Belle this worked up was unnerving and almost comical. She had been so calm and collected when they met about their arrangement. She had been in control since the beginning.
“It’s not that.” She pursed her lips and studied Emma for a moment. “I was married to one.”
The china clattered to the table and Emma dropped into the chair.
With a sigh Belle crossed and sat next to her. Emma grappled with maintaining her wits failing miserably. Belle patted her hand. “It was another life. We lived in a small parish outside of New Orleans, had a wonderful congregation. A wonderful life together. I was so young and wide-eyed and Charles was…” she sucked in breath and shook her shoulders. “Beautiful and commanding. I was in awe of him. When he chose me to marry I felt blessed that he would even notice a shy little girl in the congregation. And in the blink of an eye it was over and I was crushed.”
“What happened?” The faraway look in Belle’s eyes touched Emma’s heart.
“He died. I woke up one morning wrapped my arm around his chest like I always did and he was so cold.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. Emma reached out and covered her hands, squeezing, encouraging her. The two of them really were ships in the same fleet.
She swept back the emotions. “Well, they put me on trial for his murder.”
“Oh, no.” Emma gasped and her hand convulsed on Belle’s arm. Emma saw the woman’s despair and knew that this was a travesty. “How did that happen? What…?” She couldn’t even finish her thought.
“No one believed that such a young and healthy man could simply pass in his sleep. And, he came from a very wealthy family who were more than pleased that he had become a reverend and far less pleased that he had married a nobody from the country.” Belle shrugged and swiped the tears leaking from her eyes.
“But they found you innocent.”
Belle looked into Emma’s eyes stirring something deep within her. The message behind them made her sit back in her chair.
“I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out.”
Emma nodded taking in a deep breath and looking over to the fireplace behind the table. She was harboring a fugitive. She was harboring a fugitive and didn’t care. In their brief time together Emma knew that she would protect Belle at any cost. If she trusted her enough to share this with her, Emma would stand beside her.
“Can I ask you?” Emma moistened her lips wondering how far she could stretch this newly formed bond but Belle met her gaze with unshielded warmth. “How did you get into this business?”
A morose smile bent her crimson lips. “It’s the only business where a woman can make enough money to survive and where the men don’t ask too many questions.”
Emma nodded, taking in this bit of information.
“If you set the ground rules and stick to them and know what you’re willing to do and what you ain’t it’s not so terrible a life.” She crossed her hands in her lap and looked to the ceiling. “That’s why I was so eager to strike a deal with you Emma. You can provide me with a clean place where the men will be of a certain class that won’t want any trouble. We’ll do our business and he’ll be on his way. I leaned quick that rowdy saloons is a place for the desperate woman and I didn’t want to be counted as one of them.”
Emma was beginning to really like Belle St. Vincent. She was smart and tough and this friendship of theirs was going to prove beneficial for both of them. “No, I can see you are a woman who likes to control her own destiny.”
“That’s true.” Belle lightly chuckled. “And now we both can.” The chair creaked as she leaned forward. “I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone what I just told you. Charles’ family is still looking for me and I don’t want to have to deal with them any sooner than I have to.”
That seemed like such a strange way to look at it. Emma assumed most criminals running from the law had delusions of never getting caught. Belle seemed resigned to it. “You have my word.”
The day Emma buried her husband was also the day The Dove House had its very first guest. She was surprised that the guest had come on recommendation from the general store. It was a man traveling across the country selling something called waistoveralls. Emma thought they were the strangest made pants she had ever seen and no business man would want to wear them but the man named Albert informed her they were tailored for the working man. Soon all men would be purchasing them for their sturdy brass rivets and durable blue fabric.
It was strange to be entertaining when she should be mourning but Emma needed the funds to make the payment, she was going to need eight more guests by the end of the month in order to make enough money to survive.
“Belle.” Emma dried the dish she had washed while Belle sat at the table sipping tea. “I’ve been doing some figuring and I just don’t know how we are going to pay the mortgage and be able to eat. If they all eat like Mr. Edwards we won’t be able to keep up with the cost of food.”
The cup clinked when Belle set it on the saucer. “We should plant a garden. It’s too late for peas but we could still get potatoes and onions and maybe even some carrots. We could put some greens in over by the east grove of trees. What?”
“How do you know about farming?”
Belle grinned. It was a grin Emma hadn’t seen on her before, it was genuine and put a light in her eyes. She felt their friendship growing by the second.
“I was raised by them. But this isn’t farming, it’s gardening.”
Emma set the towel down and sighed. “Belle, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for rescuing me. I couldn’t make it through this without you. God was smiling on me when he brought you to me.”
“That wasn’t God, honey, that was commerce. And you would have come up with something. Don’t short change yourself Emma, you are very smart and resourceful. You would have survived if I hadn’t come along. I didn’t rescue you, we simply have a shared appreciation for survival.”
Emma shook her head. No matter what Belle said she knew different. She was a tailor’s daughter and a rich man’s wife, she was unaccustomed to fending for herself. “Well, I’m still going to thank God for you.”
Belle’s eyes dropped and she moved from her chair. “I’m going upstairs.”
Emma watched her step around the table before understanding what she meant. “Oh.” She couldn’t stop the deep blush flagging her cheeks.
Belle chuckled and looked at Emma as though she were a child. “Not for that.”
Emma wrinkled her forehead and sat straighter in her chair. “But I thought-”
Belle cut her off with a shake of her head. “Oh no honey. He isn’t that type of guest. He’s only here to stay the night before moving on.”
“How do you know? I thought they would all be… like that.”
“When you’ve been in the business as long as I have you recognize the signs. Good-night sweet Emma.” Belle turned, her fine dress of chocolate brown rustling with the movement.
“Good night.” Emma spoke before she exited the kitchen.
It seems Belle were correct. Mr. Edwards was up with the sun, stuffed himself with eggs and bread and started out for another town with having requested other services. He paid his bill with paper money and gave her a bit extra for the fine cooking. Emma was beginning to feel good about her new life.
“I’m going to town for a bit.” Belle announced as she descended the stairs tying her pink bonnet ribbon under her chin.
Both women looked to the door with the pounding knock. Expecting it to be another guest Emma opened the door with a smile. It wavered when her eyes met a dusty, vaguely familiar face. The man tipped his cowboy hat with his index finger his wavy brown hair sticking out beneath the brim.
“Good morning ma’am.” He nodded once and spread his dusty boots apart on the wood floor. “Names Oliver Smith. I’m the sheriff here in Primrose.”
Emma’s eyes flew to the badge partially covered with a red cloth wrapped around his neck. And her ears echoed with gunshots remembering the quicksilver justice the man acted out on her husband’s killer. She couldn’t help but think if Sheriff Smith had been a little quicker her husband would still be with her.
“Yes, Mr. Smith. I remember you.”
A shiver ran down her spine when his mouth twisted showing dark teeth.
“I didn’t know if you’d recognize me.”
Emma stiffened her spine, “That’s not something I’m likely to forget.”
The sheriff seemed uncomfortable with their exchange and frankly so was Emma. She didn’t like the idea of the law paying her a visit, especially with Belle behind her keenly listening to the conversation.
“What can I do for you Mr. Smith?”
“Well ma’am, I know you’re in a bit of a tough spot with what happened to your husband and all and I figured you might be wanting to sell your place. I would be willing to take it off your hands ease you burden so you can tend to mourning.”
Emma’s gaze had narrowed to slits, her body vibrated with anger. “Of all the nerve! How dare you show up on my doorstep the day of my husband’s funeral and think to conduct business with his widow. You are a scoundrel of the lowest kind!”
She took a breath and the evil man pounced on her pause.
“How can you expect to pay the mortgage on this place? You don’t have a pot to piss in.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open and her eyes flashed at his vulgar talk. She had never been exposed to such a crass man. He violated her personal space, getting closer and she reared back.
“I came here to be kind and offer you a fair price Mrs. Schuster. I already have the brewery, it won’t be long until I have this place too!”
Emma felt as though she had been shot in the heart, she opened her mouth to insult him right back when Belle slid between them. She placed her hand on the sheriff’s chest with as much flirtation as she could.
“Now, now, now Sheriff. There’s no need to get all hot and bothered about it.” She darted a look back to Emma and Emma tried to interpret it without any luck. “I think we can work something out.”
Belle forced the sheriff to turn with her hands, then hooked her arm in his and gathered up a handful of gown in the other. You couldn’t get a ray of sunshine between the two of them with the way she pressed herself against his side.
Belle gave one more look over her shoulder telling Emma with her eyes that she had this covered and she should keep her mouth shut. Emma’s heart was pounding so hard she thought she may collapse but she accepted that Belle was more equipped to handle an angry man than she was. She prayed that Belle was as good as Emma hoped she was.