July 1899
-Ivy-
The hair stylist rips a comb through my hair and I quietly want to cry like a damn baby every time I think she rips out another chunk of hair. I glance over at Molly who looks perfectly at ease, more relaxed than I've seen her in months. "How are you enjoying this?" I grit my teeth as the stylist yanks my scalp and apologizes for the hundredth time.
"I used to have my hair done professionally every mornin' back in Ireland." Molly shrugs. "Maybe if you actually brushed your hair every day it wouldn't be so tangly."
"Dang, okay noted." I grumble. I know I don't put a lot of effort into my appearance but damn.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Molly mutters.
"It's fine."
"Thank you, Ivy. For doin' all this for me." She adds.
"Of course. Just don't pick any fights until we're back at camp, for my sake."
"I'll do my best." Molly sighs. "I don't think it'll save our relationship but I appreciate the effort."
"You still know some Italian right? I know you mentioned it a long time ago."
"Yeah a bit. Don't know enough to have a conversation but I can pick up bits and pieces."
"Where did you learn?" I pry a little more because it's a small distraction from my burning scalp.
"Spent a bit of time around an Italian family growing up. I just picked up on some of their conversations over the years." I'm a little disappointed she doesn't give me more details. Molly and I haven't spent much time together since she joined us. She came from a wealthy family in Dublin, Ireland and made her way to the US in search of adventure and that's when she met Dutch. She's always prim and proper, wearing beautiful dresses, jewelry and makeup. Her hair is always clean and shiny. She's very much the opposite of me and I find her a little intimidating.
I look in the mirror at my reflection once the stylist has my hair smoothed and pinned back. She gets started on my makeup, after I've reminded her once again that I never wear makeup and if I look like a clown I will cry all the makeup off my face. This poor girl, I can't be a fun client for her to work on.
I'm pleasantly surprised when she's done at least. She kept the makeup light, only highlighting my own features with some blush, eyeshadow and mascara. But then it's time for Molly and I put on the dresses Trelawny gave us.
Molly of course looks stunning in an elegant gold and emerald dress that absolutely looks like it was made just for her. My dress is a dark blood red with black lace accents and a black choker around my neck. I look like a goddamn vampire. This is the Fourth of July, not Halloween. What the hell was Trelawny thinking? And dear lord, the hats he gave us, they are too much for words. They're big floppy hats decorated with rare feathers and flowers. I look insane.
"Where on earth did he get these?" I ask Molly.
She laughs and it's the first time I've heard her laugh in months. It actually surprises me a little. "He said he got them from a man named Algernon Wasp. Said they're one of a kind and will make all the women at the party full of envy, but we can't tell anyone about him."
"So what do we say if anyone asks where we got them? Not sure why anyone would want to know so badly." I try to adjust the hat so it looks smaller but the damn thing looks like it might come to life and swallow me whole.
"Just say it's from your aunt in Germany." Molly shrugs. "Usually works for me."
This is why Molly is more suited for this job than me. She knows how to be classy and elegant and wealthy and I know how to kill people and get away. I feel like a damn joke coming with them to this party.
Once we're dressed and ready to go, we walk out into the sunshine where we're met with Lenny driving the boys in a stagecoach. "Ladies." Lenny smiles kindly at us.
Then John hops out of the coach to greet me and god damn he looks so good. I don't remember the last time I saw him all suited up like this. I want to stare and gawk at him but then I remember that I look like Count Dracula's undead wife and I want the world to open up and swallow me whole. John looks devastatingly handsome and I look like a Halloween decoration.
"You look incredible." John lifts my chin and kisses my cheek and it makes my insides do backflips. I feel all girly and frilly and gooey. It's disgusting.
"I look like a wealthy lunatic. Do you see this hat?" I flick one of the feathers that keeps flapping around my head. John only laughs and guides me into the stage coach with a hand on the small of my back. Inside, I'm greeted by Dutch, Hosea and Arthur.
I notice Dutch's face heating up a bit sitting next to Molly but I can't tell if it's from anger or lust. I hope they can hold it together tonight. A small part of me is looking forward to dancing and fireworks with John. If Molly ruins the only perk of tonight I will send her back to Ireland myself.
Dutch hands me a glass of champagne. "Lighten up, Ivy. You're looking a little lost."
I take large gulp. "We look ridiculous." I smirk and the boys burst into laughter. It's clear they've been drinking all afternoon since they left us. I'm a little jealous. John threads his fingers through mine and gives my hand a little squeeze.
"I've never been to a ball in my life." Arthur chuckles.
"Nor have I, if I am bein' honest." Dutch pours another glass.
"I used to quite often." Hosea smiles. "There could be fine pickings."
"Oh no, no, no, no, no pickpocketing." Dutch shakes his head. "We are here to make real contacts."
"What kind of contacts?" Arthur asks.
I down my first glass of champagne and Dutch pours me another, thankfully a little fuller this time since he's not paying much attention.
"Well I don't know. We'll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are going to a party at the mayor's house and the guest of honor is the worst crook in town." The boys burst into another fit of laughter. "I'm sure that we will find something."
"Okay." Arthur wheezes a laugh and we all raise our glasses.
The coach pulls to a stop outside a ridiculous white mansion with pillars and marble behind a tall gate where we're greeted by a handful of guards. John climbs out and offers me his hand to help me out to the ground. "M' lady." He tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and smirks at me with a glint in his eye. I can't believe he's mine again.
"Gentlemen." A guard greets flatly. "I'm afraid the mayor does not allow guns at official functions, after last year's incident." He eyes the gun on Dutch's hip. I guess we still look a little rowdy. We hand over most of our weapons and leave them at the gate with the guards. They don't need to know I still have three throwing knives hidden in my boots. "Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte." He gestures to a servant nearby. "I believe he is expecting you."
"Follow me, Gentlemen." Luca tells us with a whiny Italian accent and leads us into the house. There are priceless statues and paintings and every bit of the house is white or gold. It's so disgustingly over the top. "This way please, gentlemen. Signor Bronte will be so pleased that you made it."
"Only because you're here." John mutters quietly in my ear.
"Gross." I lightly slap his arm.
"We are honored to be here." Dutch tells Luca.
"That's wonderful, wonderful. Come, come. This way. What a beautiful evening it shall be. Mr. Bronte is very good friends with the mayor. As long as the mayor behaves himself, you know? Mr. Bronte he has, uh, that thing, you know? Respect."
"Hosea, Arthur, you boys go join the party." Dutch instructs. "We'll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte."
"We'll meet you out on the balcony when you're done." Hosea nods.
As we follow Luca up the stairs, I tighten my grip on John's arm. I'm not looking forward to getting drooled all over by Angelo Bronte again. The man makes my skin crawl.
We are led out onto a balcony on the top floor where Bronte is surrounded by his men, drinking and laughing and all speaking Italian. It makes me a little giddy to see Molly holding Dutch's arm and the two of them acting cordial once more. Maybe this really was a good idea. I can hope.
"Ah, the angry cowboys, you've arrived." Bronte greets. His voice makes me queasy. "And you've washed..." he adds before muttering something to his men in Italian and they all chuckle. I hope Molly's listening.
"This is quite a party you've invited us to." Dutch greets, charming as ever.
"Yes, quite something... although, I'm not quite sure what." He sighs, his eyes glued to me. "And you've brought the lovely Ivy Morgan again." He reaches out and kisses the back of my hand. I nod politely, irritated that he doesn't acknowledge John. "And who is this one?" He kisses the back of Molly's hand.
"Angelo Bronte, Molly O'Shea." Dutch introduces then looks out over the party down in the garden below. "So... this is Saint Denis high society?"
"Yes, apparently so." Bronte hands Dutch and John each a cigar.
"And all these people... th-these are friends of yours, Signore Bronte?" Dutch accepts a light from a servant offering a lit match, who then walks away.
John snatches the servant's arm to light his cigar too and I gently put a hand on his arm. I can tell how irritated he is that Bronte keeps glancing over at me.
"No, no, no, not quite." Bronte mutters quietly. His voice drops to a low growl. "But they certainly are afraid of me. Like that one." He points. "See that wretch? He's the mayor. Henri Lemieux." He laughs. "He'll do anything for a dollar and I mean anything."
"Politics is a foul business." Dutch takes a puff of his cigar.
"Oh and that one too." Bronte points to someone else. "That is Alberto Fussar. He owns the sugar plantation out on the island and he comes here to whore and despoil himself." He glances back over at me and I throw up a little in my mouth. "Oh, oh, and that..." Bronte points and laughs at someone else in the garden. "That is Hobart Crawley. A confederate major in the war. A big hero they say, but that is his... his very young wife." Bronte turns back to Dutch and glances at me again. "I mean a young mistress. That's the natural order of things, yes? But a young wife... it's unseemly."
Dutch takes another puff of his cigar.
"Oh, oh, the redskins." Bronte looks back out at the garden and laughs again. "I have no sympathy for them because whoever is stupid enough to get tricked by the Americans... they get what they deserve huh?" Bronte cackles. "Yes, hand a letter to the mayor, oh yeah... that'll save you."
Dutch isn't laughing anymore but Bronte doesn't seem to notice. John is squeezing my hand so hard, my fingers are starting to fall asleep, but I don't care to move it.
"And that..." Bronte points to someone else. "That is Hector Fellowes. The self-righteous newspaperman. Maybe, maybe you will kill him for me one day?" Bronte grins at Dutch.
Dutch turns to face Bronte, I can't see his expression but his tone sounds apprehensive. I know Bronte now has the wrong impression of us. We're not deranged killers, we kill people who deserve being killed, people who rob and kill innocent folks, people like Angelo Bronte. "Well, we're not paid killers as such, not in cold blood anyway." Dutch explains politely.
"I did not know you were so particular that uh, you would not help a friend." Bronte smiles, his eyes dark.
"Oh, I'm willing to help in anyway I can... within reason." Dutch adds.
"I'm going to pretend to understand what that means."
"I meant no offense, sir."
"None taken," Bronte mutters then returns to his cheery voice. "None taken!" He and his men all laugh. He looks out over the crowd again. "All these vulgar people. They hate me." He chuckles then waves, shouting something to everyone in Italian.
"Well, uh, it has been wonderful conversing with you, but I can tell that you are very busy and I won't waste any more of your time." Dutch gives a polite nod, turning to us.
"Yes, yes, yes go enjoy yourselves and mingle with these vulgar scum." Bronte smiles. "It'll make you long for the days when you could shoot each other and screw cows out on the open range."
Dutch narrows his eyes. "Those sure were the days. Good day, gentlemen." He turns to follow us inside.
"Good day to you, but before you go..." Bronte stops us. "What uh, exactly are your plans here?"
"We've not made any." Dutch answers. "Well... we are going to need some money."
"Money... yes, of course..." Bronte sneers. "Well, there's, there's money at the trolley station. They keep a lot of cash there in the day. Now I could not involve myself in such matters, but you... pfft... as a guest, yes. As my guest, ahh, do it. Okay, good day gentlemen." He laughs and waves us off, then Dutch says his goodbyes and we hear Bronte speaking loudly to his men in Italian behind us.
"I'll show you to the party, ladies and gentlemen, if you'll follow me." A servant bows and leads us back down the stairs, stopping in his tracks to lock a door on our way. We hear the hum of the crowd from outside when we reach the back door to the garden. "Gentlemen, enjoy your evening and welcome once again to Saint Denis."
We follow Dutch out to the balcony where Hosea and Arthur are waiting. "Ladies, gentlemen, let's go ingratiate ourselves." He turns to Molly. "Did you pick up on any of what he said to his men up there?"
Molly nods. "Something about this being the first time you've washed in a month and
the good wine once we left."
Dutch nods thoughtfully. It's hard to tell if she's making jabs at Dutch or if she's being serious. Bronte does seem a little snakey. He turns to Arthur. "Go find the mayor if you can, and stay outta trouble." Then he turns to me, "and stay out of trouble, and steal nothing... unless it's information."
"Of course." Arthur nods and heads down the stairs.
John leads me down the marble staircase. "I can't stand that Italian bastard." He mutters quietly to me.
"You're tellin' me. I'm just glad we don't have to speak to him the rest of the night." I smile.
We hit the bottom of the stairs where a servant offers us each a glass of champagne. We take small sips and make our way through the courtyard, where other guests give us pretentious smiles and study our attire. "These people..." I tighten my grip on John's arm and take another sip from my glass. I don't want to be that girl chugging down champagne, but this is incredibly uncomfortable.
"They're jealous of your hat." John smirks at me.
"They can have it." I shake my head. "I look like a vampire."
"You look amazing." John kisses my cheek. How is he making this look so easy? I down the rest of my drink, not caring anymore. I need to be a little more tipsy if I'm gonna get through this party.
John follows my lead, downing his glass then setting both of them on a table nearby. "Come on, I have an idea." He leads me over to an opening where a small quartet plays a sweet song, then he turns to me and offers me his hand.
Realization hits. "You're askin' me to dance?"
"Mhm." He smiles at me.
I look around. "No one else is dancing, won't that just draw more attention to us?"
John chuckles and puts one hand on my waist and taking my hand in the other. "I think that's exactly the point, we're supposed to make contacts."
"I know, I just feel out of place." I sigh.
"You don't look out of place, I promise." He laughs. "Heard a woman telling another how much she wants your hat. I guess Trelawny was right about it."
"Sure wish he wasn't." I grumble.
He leads me in a dance, swaying and twirling to the music. Then he dips me back and presses a kiss to my neck and makes me giggle. Maybe it's the champagne or maybe it's John, but I start feeling a little better about being here.
"Go find work." Arthur hisses at us as he quickly walks past. It makes John and I laugh even more.
"He's probably right." I sigh.
"You two are just lovely." A woman greets us, hanging off the arm of an older gentleman with a handlebar mustache. "Aren't they, Hobart?"
It's the confederate major from the war and his young wife that Bronte laughed at. The couple seems so happy, looking at each other with a sparkle in their eyes.
"Hobart Crawley, this is my wife Anna." The man shakes John's hand.
"John Marston, Ivy Morgan." John introduces.
"How lovely to meet you both." Anna beams. "Where did you get that stunning hat?"
"Oh!" I blush, "my sweet aunt from Germany sent it to me." I decide to use Molly's line. Thankfully Anna doesn't press it any further.
"Well, it really is quite something."
"You two friends of someone here?" Hobart asks.
"My boss is friends with Angelo Bronte and Henri Lemieux. We're just here as guests." John explains.
"Oh Angelo Bronte..." Hobart frowns.
"He's uh... somethin' huh?" John shakes his head.
"Quite intolerable." Hobart and Anna laugh.
"That he is." John chuckles.
"Will you be attending the poker tournament on the riverboat Friday night?" Hobart asks John.
"I didn't know there was a poker tournament. I'm pretty new to Saint Denis, I'm afraid." John answers.
"Oh, it's this Friday evening at six on the Grand Korrigan. It's incredibly high stakes, some big boys will be there. It should be interesting."
"Oh, well thanks for the information, Mr. Crawley." John nods.
"Sure. Well, we'll leave you to it, good evening folks." Hobart smiles politely.
"Lovely meeting you both." Anna gives a little wave.
"You goin' to that?" I ask John once we walk away.
"Nah, I'll leave it up to Dutch." John shrugs. "Sounds like a good lead anyway."
"Sure."
"Excuse me miss, where did you get that hat?" A woman taps my shoulder. I take a breath preparing to explain my aunt in Germany again, but when I turn I'm met by a similar extravagantly feathered hat. The woman's brows are knit together with concern.
"It was a gift." I decide to answer vaguely.
"A gift from whom, exactly? I'm the only one who attends these functions with a Wasp hat. Who told you about him, was it Clarice? She has always been such a ratbag."
"I'm sorry, I don't know a Clarice." I shrug. "Good evening." I turn and walk away from the woman.
"All that over a hat?" John mutters.
"I hate rich people." I sigh.
"Excuse me folks, would you two like tickets?" A man with a black mustache stops us.
"To what?" John asks.
"This cabaret show at the Theatre Râleur... it's jolly fun." The man explains.
John looks at me and I shrug. He nods to the man. "Sure."
The man hands him two tickets and we thank him, then the fireworks begin. I've never seen fireworks in person before. I've heard about them but to see them in person is magical. John pulls me close against him as we watch in wonder. I notice Arthur and Dutch exchanging words before Arthur darts away, following a servant in a fancy white suit.
We enjoy the fireworks and when they're over, the quarter begins playing once again and we see Dutch, Molly and Arthur back up on the balcony. A few moments later, we head on up to meet them. Hosea joins us a second later. "Arthur?"
Arthur nods and pats the breast of his jacket.
"Ladies and gentlemen... I think we're done here." Hosea announces and we all file back in through the house.
"What did you find out?" Dutch asks.
"There's plenty of money moves through here, of course, and I... I think I found out how we can grab some of it. A big bank... a real one I mean, but not yet."
"A city bank?"
"Maybe... and a stuffed one. If we're gonna leave, that could be the one thing we need."
"There's also that trolley car station Signor Bronte told us about." Dutch adds. Molly gives him a concerned look that he ignores, only patting her hand on his arm.
"We heard about a high stakes poker game." John adds.
"Good. Come on..." Dutch leads us out the front door and we pick up our weapons at the gate then pile back into the stagecoach where Lenny waits for us.
"Evening, folks." Lenny greets.
Once we're on the road and well away from the mansion, Arthur pulls something from his jacket pocket. "Here's them papers I took."
Dutch looks over the papers. "Anybody see you take this?"
"I don't think so."
"Hmm... I might have an idea. Let me think on it."
We get back to camp and John pulls me into the house, not even stopping to greet anyone. "What are you doin'?" I giggle as he practically drags me up the stairs.
"I need out of these clothes." He throws me a wink over his shoulder and my heart flops in my chest.
"Yeah you do." I giggle.
We get into our room and John pulls the pins from my hair and unlaces the corset on the back of my dress, pausing to kiss the back of my neck. "You looked beautiful tonight..." he whispers against my skin. "I liked you in this dress, but I like you even better out of it." He lets the dress fall down to the floor around my feet, revealing the fact that I've been wearing nothing underneath.
I turn around in his arms, noticing the hungry look in his eyes before pulling his mouth to mine as I fumble with the buttons of his jacket.
We wake up the next morning to a gravelly chuckle. "It's a good thing Susan put you two in the far bedroom."
John and I groan, and I pull the blanket over our naked bodies.
"Interesting times." Dutch mutters, leaning on the door frame from the balcony outside.
"I guess." John rubs the sleep from his eyes. I roll over, hoping to go back to sleep. "So what's next? Dancing lessons? Deportment?"
"Five more minutes of sleep." I whine.
Dutch laughs. "More along the lines of armed robbery. Hosea's handling the reconnaissance on the bank. Ivy, I need you to join him in Saint Denis later this evening to run some distractions. See how the law reacts."
"Sure." I roll back over, resting my chin on my arm draped over John's bare chest. I guess I'm not going to get to go back to sleep now.
"Oh, and I spoke to Evelyn Miller. A fine man. Here helping the Indian chief we saw. He's lobbying officials in Saint Denis on their behalf. Maybe we could help." Dutch adds, completely ignoring the fact that John and I are clearly naked. I guess nothing surprises any of us anymore. "Now, I think there's a lot of money on the riverboat. A lot of money. And Trelawny, he's investigating for us. You interested, John?"
"Do I gotta dress up again?" John scoots up to lean on the wall and lights a cigarette.
"Yeah." Dutch raises a brow.
"Make Arthur go." John shakes his head. "Let me know how I can help with this bank."
Dutch laughs. "Sure. One more big score down here and we disappear. We're almost headin' home."
"And where is home?" I ask.
"I don't know... exactly. But I can smell it. I'm gonna go investigate this trolley thing old Bronte was talking about."
"Okay." I watch Dutch turn and hear his footsteps fade down the steps. I curl back up against John's chest. "You think we might get a day to just enjoy each other's company soon?"
John chuckles and plants a kiss to the top of my head when I reach up to steal his cigarette. "That would be nice. We do have those tickets to that show in Saint Denis if you wanna go." He offers.
"I'd like that." I smile.
We get dressed and head downstairs and I find Mary-Beth sitting with Kieran in the front room. Dark circles cling to her eyes and she reads a book out loud to him then looks up at me.
"How's he doin'?" I ask quietly.
"A little better every day." She answers, standing up to walk with me and John. "He's pretty upset though. He hates the way he looks without his eye, hates the fact that he can't see the same anymore, he's been havin' nightmares. He's havin' a hard time."
"I'll see if I can find him an eye patch or something while we're in Saint Denis." I tell her. "I'm glad he's healing up alright. We were real worried about him."
"Thank you Ivy." She squeezes my hand. "I can't thank you enough."
We walk out to the horses where I feed Ennis and my new Appaloosa each a mint. Arthur gave me the Appaloosa he stole from the Foreman Brothers Tilly used to ride with. It's a sweet mare, but I still miss Sparrow.
John helps me up behind his saddle on Old Boy's back and turns him down the path out of camp. "Did you come up with a name for her yet?" He asks over his shoulder.
"No, I want to name her something that would go along with Sparrow but I can't think of another good bird." I shrug.
"Arthur has some zoological book by his bed. Maybe there's something in there." John suggests.
"Maybe."
As we come to the cross roads to go over the bridge into town, a voice catches our attention. "Hey, you gotta help me out here, please." A man hobbles out in the grass wearing a prison uniform with shackles around his ankles. His sandy blonde hair is tangled and matted. "I've been on the run for days now. If you could help me with these shackles, I just might have a chance."
I look around a moment to make sure this isn't an ambush. He seems to be telling the truth.
"Just shoot the chains off, please. I'm done for otherwise."
I draw my revolver and shoot through the chains between his legs.
"Oh! Oh wow, oh yes, yes perfect! Thank you." He picks up his knees to stretch his legs. "I- I got no money to give you, but... I think I might got something even better. Some of those fellers talked about this pig farm just north of Pleasance. Apparently the owners are brother and sister but they're real strange. I guess there's lots of cash hidden somewhere in the house."
"Oh yeah? And why would we be interested in that?" John asks.
"Umm I dunno. Just a hunch. Up to you, friend." The prisoner walks away.
"Should we look into that pig farm?" I ask.
"Seems good a lead as any, don't see why not." He shrugs. "We can check it out tomorrow. For now, let's just go to the theatre."