Page 39 of Flippin' Cowboy
He’d found some interesting items in the archives, but would they be enough to convince Mrs. Snowberry to keep going with the project?
On the walk over from the library, Nick had realized it didn’t matter how much money he was willing to contribute towards the restoration if Abigail Snowberry refused to hand over the title to the building.
“No,” he replied. “Between the original floorplans and that plaster dove detail we found, I’m 100 percent sure that the Snowberry Springs Inn started life as a bordello. Not only that, I found evidence in the town archives to show that Caroline Snowberry owned and ran the place from the very beginning.”
Mrs. Snowberry’s silvery brows drew together in a frown. He knew that wasn’t what she had hoped to hear about her late husband’s grandmother.
“Whatkindof evidence?” asked Winnie.
Nick brought up the documents he’d photographed. “First, here’s an application for a liquor license, dated 1880, for a saloon located at the current Snowberry Springs Inn’s address. That’s significant because contrary to popular belief, many bordellos actually earned more money from selling drinks in their downstairs public rooms than from prostitution.”
“That’s all very interesting.” Mrs. Snowberry’s tone was sharp. “But is there any proof this saloon was actually a house of ill repute?”
Nick swiped and brought up the next document. “Here’s a page I found in the town’s deed record book, also from 1880. It lists the contents of the saloon, including some things like multiple beds, washstands, and other bedroom furniture, that weren’t standard saloon equipment, but sure fit the bill for the upstairs furnishings in a bordello.”
“None of that proves Caroline Snowberry was associated with the business,” Mrs. Snowberry pointed out.
“True, but when I found those items, I dug deeper.” Nick knew his business partner wasn’t going to like his next discovery. But he was a historian first and a real estate investor second. He couldn’t bring himself to lie about what he’d found.
He bought up the next document. “Here’s the 1880 census record for Snowberry Springs. It lists a woman named Caroline, no last name, no occupation, but of the right age, and with her marital status listed as widowed.” He tapped the handwritten entry in the census form. “In this time period, it was typical for census takers to list sex workers with no last name—presumably to spare their families embarrassment—and no occupation.” He enlarged the image on the screen. “In this case, though, the census enumerator scribbled some notes. For Caroline, he wrote, ‘Runs house of ‘ill fame.’”
“No way!” exclaimed Autumn, craning her neck to read the almost illegible—and for her, upside-down—handwriting in the photo.
Winnie leaned over to peer at his screen. She was practically snuggling him now, and he was acutely aware of a soft mound pressing against his upper arm.
Desperately trying to ignore this distraction, Nick continued, “Aside from Caroline, two other women are listed as residingat the saloon’s address, none of them with last names. And the census taker was extremely disrespectful. You can see here that he listed eighteen-year-old Libby’s occupation as ‘does horizontal work,’ and twenty-year-old Ettie’s as ‘squirms in the dark.’”
“Sounds like he had some issues with the town’s working girls,” Winnie commented.
Mrs. Snowberry’s mouth thinned into the same displeased line he remembered from yesterday’s video call. “What else did you…uncover?”
She made it sound like he was turning over rocks and uncovering creepy bugs.
“By 1890, a Mrs. Caroline Erskine, Widow, appears in the census records as a saloon keeper. By 1900, she’s listed as the owner of the Snowberry Springs Inn, located at the same address as the old saloon. She marries Ralph Snowberry in 1905, and he adopts her four children. After that, she regularly appears in theSnowberry Springs Timesas a respectable matron, philanthropist, and town founder. By the time of her death in 1923, she owns most of the town’s new commercial buildings, as well as your family ranch, and a hotel in Livingston. Sounds like she invested her saloon earnings wisely,” Nick finished.
“But you don’t have proof that the ‘Caroline’ in the 1880 census is the same person as Mrs. Caroline Erskine?” Mrs. Snowberry pressed. “Caroline was a pretty common name in those days, you know.”
“Mrs. Snowberry,” Nick said, as gently as he could. “The census for that year lists a total of fifteen women in Snowberry Springs, and only one of them named Caroline. It’s unlikely that twowomen with the same first name owned the same saloon within a ten-year period.”
“I see.” Mrs. Snowberry said, her tone clipped. “Well, Nick, I appreciate you looking into this matter, but—”
“It’s going to be such a great story for the new hotel’s website!” Autumn interrupted. “A former bordello has a lot more marketing oomph than just a regular historic building. And believe me, this town needs all the oomph it can get for when the Livingstone Vintage Railroad begins operating next summer.”
Point to Autumn, Nick thought with admiration.
“But Frank’s family name—” Mrs. Snowberry tried again.
“Grandma Abigail,” Winnie’s tone was gentle. “Times have changed. Believe me, if Great-Great-Grandma Caroline started off working in the sex trade, it isn’t the black mark that it used to be. It’s just considered colorful these days and shows what some women had to do to survive out here in the frontier days.”
And a point to Winnie. She and her sister are really pulling out the stops to convince grandma,thought Nick.
“In fact, historians now recognize the valuable role that frontier sex workers played in our state’s history,” he added. “They credit the madams and so-called ‘soiled doves’ for creating permanent communities out of temporary, all-male mining encampments or trading depots.”
The grateful look Winnie shot him was worth incurring her grandmother’s displeasure.
Abigail Snowberry’s frown was deepening by the second.
“Grandma,please,” Autumn begged. “This is a major part of our family history. Heck, it’s an important part of this town’s history, too. We shouldn’t be hiding what life was really like back then!”
