The kids had noticed it first: that new lady in town must have the rottenest badly made boots in the Territories. The number of times she had to stop and hitch up her skirts as she placed her heel up on the boardwalk to adjust them, or fuss with the buttons or pull up her fancy patterned stockings was a wonder. The only thing about her that looked brazen was her copper coloured hair, her dress and was relatively modest: or at least, it would have been if she didn't having to keep lifting that dratted hem and showing those calves and fixing that unruly footwear whenever a man was passing by.
Today she was fixing her boots around about where the northbound stage into Kalispell stopped on its way from Helena. The major attraction here was disembarking gentlemen: Hettie would approach or give the glad eye to any man who looked like his bank account might weigh heavier than his moral outlook. A good source of passing trade, this. Rarer, and more risky, perhaps some ignorant bumpkin of a girl with a fresh face and a need for employment or somewhere to stay. Staging halt as recruitment centre.
What she saw today, climbing down from the horse-drawn contrivance with the four large wheels was such a girl, but whose journey had taken her further down the line: her fresh country beauty was a little faded, a little jaded. Bags beneath the eyes and a slightly hopeless look in her blue gaze. Her dress was, like Hettie's, neat enough; respectable enough but... maybe it was the cigarette. No decent woman...
Mrs Rosenkrantz (she kept her married name as a joke, a joke on her many, many, many times cuckolded sanctimonious husband, the Reverend Rosenkrantz)... Mrs Rosenkrantz swooped in. Before her traps were even handed down from the stagecoach roof, the slight, slightly shopworn looking blonde was being accosted by the vivacious and buxom redhead, who held her own unlit smoke toward her.
"Hello Judy, light my cigarette?" she asked, almost sensuously, as if she were picking up a trick, not a possible co-worker.
"Ain't life just dandy."
Annie endured the usual bumpy ride the stagecoaches never told you about but always delivered. And this two bit town had no trains coming to it. She certainly never entertained the possibility of riding on a horse. She could not afford one but even if she could, she had never ridden a horse before. Not quite true, as a girl on her family's farm her oldest brother let her ride the plowing mule on occasion. She had enjoyed that. She did have at least some good memories of those days but there never had been enough of those to keep her tethered to that prison.
Naturally the ride cost her of her precious funds of which she had damn little. Her escape from Helena had been hasty one might even say desperate. But hell, half her life felt desperate. But anyhow, here she was then in some new dusty burg. There was a saloon, she had spotted the sign. Just maybe she could waggle a job there to ply her trade? That is if they didn't already have poor gals already. Still, many such joints appreciated new faces. Customers like variety.
The man sitting right next to her made no effort at being a gentleman, he had figured her for what she was and simply alighted the stage first. She clambered on down next, looking up to see if her one carpet bag was being unloaded.
"Hello Judy, light my cigarette?" it was a female voice which drew her attention. Obviously a woman she had never seen in her life.
"Name ain't Judy, get outta my way," Annie almost added 'miss' but this one didn't look like a 'miss'. In fact she might well have been....
If for no other reason than to just get rid of her, Annie aligned her lit cigarette with the other woman's unlit one until that one began to smoke too.
To the stage employee she quickly informed the young man, "That brown one is mine." All her worldly possessions and they fit in one carpet bag.
"Name ain't Judy, get outta my way," Annie almost added 'miss' but this one didn't look like a 'miss'. In fact she might well have been....
Such a rude and terse retort would have sent most people fleeing, but you didn't get very far in the game without being a little bit brassier than that, and by the smile still decorating her face, you would have thought that Annie Jo had just paid Hettie some great compliment.
"I'm Hettie, what's your name, sweetie?" the well upholstered mawk asked, proffering her cigarette again and raising her eyebrows. She pronounced her name like Heady, which went well with the fancy French perfume she was wearing and which was pretty well fumigating the whole street.
If for no other reason than to just get rid of her, Annie aligned her lit cigarette with the other woman's unlit one until that one began to smoke too.
Hettie leaned forward and sucked on her cigarette with well rouged lips to encourage the heated, re-glowing joining and as she did so, looked up with knowing eyes into those of the other woman, who, for some reason, she was convinced was either a sister professional or of a disposition to perhaps become one. She did not take her for a potential client, of course, she knew the look of that particular and rare sort of a woman.
As Annie Jo turned to get her bag, Hettie gave her bodily form a quick but expert appraisal from the rear, estimating what her naked form might look like under all that clothing and corsetry. Good. The other girl at the 'Gentleman's Club' so far, Yeller Della, was slim too, but as black as tar. This one would do nicely to satisfy the men that wanted a nice skinny white girl to use. Satisfied with the flesh on offer, if it was on offer, Hettie plastered that smile back on as the fresh fish was handed down her meagre luggage and turned again.
"You travel light!" Hettie beamed "Where you going? I can show you where it is." she offered, falling in next to the other woman as if it were a given that she would accept, almost taking her by the arm, as it were: it was the 'hard push' she used with some johns who willing but shy or scared.
"Ain't life just dandy."
"I'm Hettie, what's your name, sweetie?" the woman wasn't put off by Annie's less than friendly retort. She also still wanted her cigarette lit so Annie paused long enough to make it happen.
"Is my name important?" Annie was still clearly suspicious, too often strangers came onto folk with some sort of scheme in mind and masked it in fake friendliness.
But favor done and now her brown carpet bag picked up and in hand, Annie started down the boardwalk....to where she was not exactly sure at that particularly moment.
"You travel light!" Hettie beamed "Where you going? I can show you where it is." the other woman offered, falling in next to the other woman as if it were a given that she would accept.
Annie did not object at least but kept walking and in the meantime her blue eyes taking in the various storefronts and passersby.
"Not sure. Lookin' for a job," Annie revealed at least that much.
"Is my name important?" Annie was still clearly suspicious, too often strangers came onto folk with some sort of scheme in mind and masked it in fake friendliness.
The other woman just shrugged, but carried on walking beside the blonde. And carried on smiling. And carried on asking nosy questions.
"You travel light!" Hettie beamed "Where you going? I can show you where it is." the other woman offered, falling in next to the other woman as if it were a given that she would accept.
"Not sure. Lookin' for a job," Annie revealed at least that much.
"Oh, well, my boss Mrs Adams had lots of open positions!" Hettie informed Annie Jo helpfully. In fact, most of Sally Adam's position were open. "What sort of work do you usually do?" she asked.
An elderly couple walked past them the other way and the woman looked like she wanted to spit at them "Disgraceful!" she snarled; "Disgusting!!" agreed the man. Hettie looked down meekly as they passed, but then laughed to herself once they were gone. "That's not what he said yesterday afternoon!"
They were now passing the Saloon "Hey, can I stand you a drink?" Hettie asked convivially.
"Ain't life just dandy."
Annie did let on she was looking for a job, this woman might be useful in helping in that regard.
"Oh, well, my boss Mrs Adams had lots of open positions!" Hettie informed Annie Jo helpfully.
A woman boss? Annie didn't think there were a lot of those. She'd never worked for one.
"What sort of work do you usually do?" Hettie asked.
Before Annie could reply a couple approached from the opposite direction on the boardwalk they all shared. Their looks were a mix of condescending and disgust. Annie had seen it all too often.
An elderly couple walked past them the other way and the woman looked like she wanted to spit at them "Disgraceful!" she snarled; "Disgusting!!" agreed the man.
If it weren't still her first hour in this town, Annie would have retorted with some crude defiant words of her own. Her walking partner just took it. No gumption it seemed. Maybe that man was a power in this place?
Hettie looked down meekly as they passed, but then laughed to herself once they were gone. "That's not what he said yesterday afternoon!"
Annie finally knew then just what sort of woman this Hettie was, she should have figured it out earlier really. Maybe it was all the hard jostling from the stage and she was just tired. Hettie was a prostitute. And she had made Annie to be one, quite correctly too.
They were now passing the Saloon "Hey, can I stand you a drink?" Hettie asked convivially.
Annie stopped by the door then answered, "Umm, sure. So you a hooker here then?"
"I'm Annie, by the way. I was a hooker back in Helena just so ya know." She was finally opening up those closed defenses of hers.
They were now passing the Saloon "Hey, can I stand you a drink?" Hettie asked convivially.
They were now passing the Saloon "Hey, can I stand you a drink?" Hettie asked convivially.
Annie stopped by the door then answered, "Umm, sure. So you a hooker here then?"
"No, our place is over there behind that funeral parlour, just opened." Hettie replied matter-of-factly, indicating Mr Jolly's undertaking business over on the other side of the muddy street. "This place is supposed to be supplying us with booze or something. Don't know how welcome we are to fish in here, yet: let's find out, huh?"
Before they entered the smaller, petite woman stopped and looked up at the more statuesque Hettie.
"I'm Annie, by the way. I was a hooker back in Helena just so ya know." She was finally opening up those closed defenses of hers.
"Oh, I wondered where." Hettie smiled. As far as she was concerned, there was no 'was' in hooker. Once a mawk always a mawk. And who cared anyway?: she'd been a wife (all right, a pretty bad and short-lived one) and a mistress too: they were all the same job: parting your legs for your keep, for some creep you couldn't wait to see the back of. At least in this line, you did get to see the back of them: after they'd made their mess - and if you knew what you were doing, you could make that sooner rather than later.
They pushed through the swinging doors and into the place. Hettie Surveyed the room for possible tricks or competition. Looked like they'd got a Sunday school teacher playing the piano and there was some cheap looking blonde tart chatting up the clientele. She might be trouble. They would see.
The barkeep was the most handsome feller in the place, but he looked like he'd just lost a dollar and found a nickel.
"Hello handsome, I'd like a brandy please and whatever my friend Annie's having. I'm Hettie by the way, what's your name?" she smiled across at Ralph's manly bearded face.
Wayfarer and others?
"Ain't life just dandy."
"No, our place is over there behind that funeral parlour, just opened." Hettie replied matter-of-factly, indicating Mr Jolly's undertaking business over on the other side of the muddy street.
Annie turned to look, "Oh." Well, it didn't look just too bad at first glance from the outside anyway.
"This place is supposed to be supplying us with booze or something. Don't know how welcome we are to fish in here, yet: let's find out, huh?" Hettie suggested and in they went.
Decent enough saloon, Annie had seen better but she'd also seen worse. Only women about was a piano player, she looked awfully young but hell she herself started young, many did. And an older but still young looking golden haired gal....nice dress, good looker too. Hettie marched straight to the bar and Annie kept up with her.
Ralph took one look at the pair and wondered immediately. Women unaccompanied by men almost never set foot in the saloon. Other than Sally and she had finally been kicked out by Caroline for crossing the line. These two had the look of hookers, though he'd never seen them before.
"Hello handsome, I'd like a brandy please and whatever my friend Annie's having. I'm Hettie by the way, what's your name?" she smiled across at Ralph.
"Brandy's good," Annie nodded, hell better than she ever normally drank. That had usually been the cheapest rot gut whiskey. She then took a last drag on what was left of her smoke and dropped it into the spittoon leaning against the bar.
"Two brandies...comin' up," Ralph waited until he placed two glasses then poured them to the brim before adding, "I'm Ralph."
It did not take long at all for Caroline to come sauntering over to join this new twosome. She smiled at them of course but there was a look in her eyes that wasn't her usual bubbly self.
"Howdy there, ladies. You must be new in town?" she inquired. She already had her suspicions exactly why they were in the place.
"Two brandies...comin' up," Ralph waited until he placed two glasses then poured them to the brim before adding, "I'm Ralph."
"Well howdy, Ralph!" Hettie smiled and, for once, she didn't have to put it on. He could be her bully any day of the week, what a hunk of man!
It did not take long at all for Caroline to come sauntering over to join this new twosome. She smiled at them of course but there was a look in her eyes that wasn't her usual bubbly self.
The experienced prostitute smiled back, equally as brittlely. Oddly, or not oddly actually, although they had only just met, she already felt solidarity with her fellow confessed 'woman of the town', Annie Jo. It was the two of them versus... well, any possible attack: physical, verbal, emotional: her non-reaction to the couple on the street notwithstanding.
"Howdy there, ladies. You must be new in town?" she inquired. She already had her suspicions exactly why they were in the place.
"That's right, I'm Hettie, I've been in Kalispell about a week and Annie here's just arrived. You work this place? Er, I mean, you work in this place?" asked the redhead. If the cheap blonde was a fellow hooker, then she might be understandably suspicious of any new competition. On the other hand, if she was something in near orbit to the profession but not quite there, that could be even worse: mere clipsters often had a complex and terse relationship with full blown prostitutes. A hooker represented what the clipster knew herself not to be, but what many people assumed she was.
To an extent, they could be more hostile to 'land frigates' like Hettie and Annie Jo than the most self-righteous middle-class, religious, prudish, dried up old biddy in the town.
Wayfarer and others
Caroline already was suspicious of the two, women just don't wander into the saloon unaccompanied by men except for one reason, they were hookers trying to drum up customers. Miss Devereaux didn't allow whoring in the place, Fortner never said anything different.
"That's right, I'm Hettie, I've been in Kalispell about a week and Annie here's just arrived. You work this place? Er, I mean, you work in this place?"
"No, I'm the town minister," Caroline waxed sarcastically.
Ralph interjected, "Caroline here is the saloon entertainer. And a real customer favorite too." Ralph always backed up Caroline. Unlike Arabella, he had bought into Caroline's philosophy that those who worked the saloon were family. It included now Messalina the cook and Frances, the piano player. To a point it even included Fortner as he was the boss. His stunt with stealing old man Poteet's place in a fixed card game soured things among them though. An innocent woman hung herself because of it.
Caroline flashed a smile at Ralph then it was back to focus on the 'ladies'.
"And can I ask you gals just what do you do ta make a livin'? And where?"