Page 53 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“How nice for you,”Charlotte replied with palpable sarcasm before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs.
Attempts to make her jealous by any of the countless ambitious girls who had come and gone were futile. She’d become immune to his philandering ways years ago. But it was her soaking tub, hauled by Fen all the way from New Orleans as a birthday gift. It was a luxury and took up half her room, so they kept it in his without argument, making her believe he’d gotten it as much for himself. She had invited the other girls to use it whenever they liked—as long as it didn’t inconvenience Fen. But learning smug Serena had taken advantage of it set her teeth on edge.
She’d add this grievance to her ever-growing list.
“You should be nicer to him,”the younger woman advised. “Decent men are rare, especially out here on the dusty frontier. Working girls like us have to appreciate one if we come across him, flaws and all.”
Charlotte halted and turned, incensed by a twenty-two-year-old giving her advice. Slowly, she retraced her steps.
“You and I have a different definition of decent,”Charlotte stated with uncharacteristic rancor in her tone. “I’m sure Fenton was fun to play with, but he’s not knownto pay forsomething offered for free.”
She moved forward, not stopping until she was toe to toe with Serena, and the smugness faded from her face. Even six inches shorter, Charlotte could intimidate when she saw the need.
“Here’s my advice, dear. Giving it away won’t pay your rent or put food in your mouth. And as rare a breed as you think he is, Fenton Sneed isn’t the benevolent type. If you’d like to keep your position, your comfy bed, and a generous portion of what paying customers come here seeking, you should probably get downstairs and earn your keep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, as she turned to hurry away. She’d taken several steps when she spun back, the distance bolstering her courage. “I wanted to work here because of everything you mentioned, and your reputation for fairness.”
The compliment, while unexpected, was nice to hear. Finding Heloise’s cruelty unbearable, Charlotte set out to become like Elise—compassionate and just in her dealings with the women in her employ.
Initially, Fen had been skeptical of the changes she put in place that set them apart from their competitors. Instead of the bare minimum—a pittance in pay, a basic room (sometimes still a tent in Laramie), and barely enough food—under her management, the Red Eye offered decent wages and the hope of a better future. Their reputation spread, and women flocked from nearby towns and as far away as Denver and Salt Lake to work for her and Fen. Well, mostly her.
The trade had existed for ages and would continue until women had better choices. As long as she ensured safety, cleanliness, and as much choice and dignity as possible, she could sleep at night.
While not as elegant as Elise’s parlor house, the Red Eye was a vast improvement from what most working girls were used to. Many stayed long term, while others moved on when able. Others saved enough to leave that life; some even married.
The saddest truth? For every woman who left, a dozen more waited to take her place.
Given her history of abrasive remarks, Serena’s next comment wasn’t unexpected. “I was also warned you could be a bitch when crossed. Surprise, surprise, the rumors are true.”
“I’ve been called much worse in my day,”Charlotte replied, more amused than offended. Serena hadn’t seen a bitch until she met Heloise. “While I try to be fair, I have a business to run. I’m also a pragmatist. Do you know what that means?”
The younger woman shook her head as expected. She had little schooling and had never learned to read.
“It’s someone practical and realistic. It means, I can work with someone I don’t like.” She paused, watching the younger woman’s face change from smug to worried as that sank in. “It also means looking after yourself becauseno one in this life will do you any favors, especially in your vocation. Most important, it means earning every dollar you can before your beauty fades, and you’re left washing some man’s dirty drawers and socks for a few pennies a day.”
A look of sheer horror contorted Serena’s features at the prospect of such a future.
Charlotte had made her point and should have walked away, the bigger person. But a little imp inside her wouldn’t let this end without one last spiteful jab. “Why don’t you take a minute to fix your face? Even dusty cowboys looking for one thing don’t like smeared lipstick and another man’s leavings on the face of the woman they’ve paid their hard-earned money for.”
With a gasp of alarm, Serena’s hands flew to her mouth as she spun and hurrieddown the hallto her room.
As Charlottedescended the stairs, she managed not to laugh. She’d lied. The girl’s face and makeup were perfect, but if she was going to be called a bitch to her face, she should at least act like one.
Fenton was nowhere in sight, but they had a full house. She spent thirty minutes circulating, making sure everyone had drinks and feminine companionship for those who wanted it.
With the crowd content for the moment and no one accusing anyone of cheating or threatening to shoot them, she headed toward the kitchen in search of Fenton. With a fondness for sweets, he’d often sneak a second helping of dessert at this time of night. Behind her, the saloon doors squeaked open, their hinges crying out for grease. Charlotte looked over, a greeting forming on her lips, but stopped dead in her tracks at what she saw.
The man’s tall, broad-shouldered frame, even in his tan leather duster, suggested a powerful build beyond what the coat alone could account for. She couldn’t see his face or guess his age, with the widebrim of hisblack hat obscuring his features, but his presence commanded the room. Perhaps the six-point brass star pinned to his chest gave her that impression, although she suspected it was something more.
She saw Fenton enter from the front parlor, his attention on the man at the door, too. When their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them. Only one thing brought the law to the Red Eye on a busy Friday night. Trouble.
“Mm, mm,”Violet hummed as she came up beside her. “I’ve never really considered taking marriage vows. Being tied down to one man for the rest of my life isn’t my style. However, if that man were to ask, I might say‘I do.’”
“Who is he?”Charlotte inquired, not taking her eyes off him.
“Judging by the star, I would guess he’s the new sheriff.”
“New? What happened to the last one? He was only here a few months.”
