New in Town, Part 14
Originally posted by fragrantwoods at New in Town, Part 14
Title: New In Town, Part 14 (AU)
Author: fragrantwoods
Rating: R for language, adult situations, references to violence, death
Word Count: 3550
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, not making anything
WIP Crossover: Deadwood/Battlestar Galactica
Spoilers for Deadwood S3
Setting: A/U that includes the American Old West (specifically, Deadwood): The Gem Saloon
Timeline: Post-Hearst, pre-fire, not congruent with the events of comm Deadwood S_4
Summary: Bill and Laura find themselves on Earth in 1879 in a Raptor jump gone wrong.
While Bill Adama and Al Swearengen had continued their meeting at the Gem, Laura had returned to their rooms at the Grand Central Hotel to wait and to read, until she has an unexpected visitor...and hears a slightly different version of last year's events.
Previous chapter New in Town part 13
As Laura flipped through the pages of the book of sonnets, a paper fell free and slipped to the floor. Hoping to glean a little more information about the mercurial town boss, she shook away concerns of privacy and held what appeared to be a letter to the lamplight.
Mr. Swearengen,
I deeply appreciate your comfort and care in the last months. It was, as you said, “horrible” being shot at. Your words were a great solace that day, giving me the strength to show myself to that monster Hearst again and deny him the satisfaction of my fear.
Even more cherished in my heart is your sincere, if obscene, absolution that “I didn’t fucking shoot him” when we learned of my poor husband’s murder. I do believe that is the first time my pen has produced that word, but I will forego propriety for the sake of accuracy in my gratitude on this occasion.
I did not expect to find such kindness from you as you have shown me in our occasional afternoon meetings of companionship, which is more a testimony to my limited expectations than a condemnation of your character. I find I am most at peace these days when I reflect that I remain under your protection.
I honestly have little hope that you will take time to read through this little book. I confess I have pictured reading a page or two to you in the midst of one of our meetings, and that imagining has brought me great pleasure and renews my gratitude for your friendship.
Sincerely,
Alma G. Ellsworth
Laura tucked the letter back into the book. She wondered what kind of woman would consider an admitted murderer as kind and protective…as worthy of having poetry read to him by this woman with such elegant handwriting.
***************************
The slim book wavered in her hands as her eyelids fluttered almost closed, then opened again with a start. She placed the bookmark ribbon at the sonnet she’d finished, whispering the last few lines to get the cadence right in her mind…when she had the chance to read the poetry to Bill, she wanted him to get the same pleasure as she had from the rhythm of the lines. She’d just risen from her chair, flexing the stiffness out of her hips, when she heard a light knock on the door. She looked out over the dark street and frowned as she saw the two silhouettes in the office across the way. Not Bill, then…
“Mrs. Adama? It’s Trixie, that helped you with your clothes and hair the other day.”
Laura’s shoulders relaxed as she heard the woman’s voice. Even while drowsing in her chair, she’d kept the residual tenseness from the evening’s revelations. Turning the key, she opened the hotel door to the slim nervous blonde who seemed to be trying for a nonchalance she clearly didn’t feel. Laura glanced over Trixie’s shoulder, seeing that she was alone before standing aside to welcome her in with a questioning look.
“I saw Dan a little bit ago when I was closin’ up the hardware store. Hearing that your man was still in talks with Al, and rememberin’ your unease of the other day, I thought I might offer to help with loosenin’ your stays, as I expect you’d not want to be in your corset any longer than you had to.” The woman’s fingers twisted the cords of her reticule back and forth as she talked.
Judging from the redness around Trixie’s eyes, Laura suspected it wasn’t just concern for her comfort that brought her there, but she gave her credit for a reasonable excuse.
“Thank you, Trixie. I was getting tired of being laced up, and it looks like the men are still going strong.” They made small talk about the coolness of the evening while Trixie unbuttoned the high-necked blouse much quicker than Bill had managed. Laura sighed in relief as the laces were loosened top and bottom, giving her the slackness she needed to unhook the busks herself.
“Oh, Gods, that feels so much better.” She ignored the slight frown Trixie gave at her words as she finally unhooked the last busk. She took the deepest breath she’d had for hours, folding the garment and her blouse before slipping them into the top drawer of the dresser. She had considered redressing until she felt the bright red wrap at the bottom of the drawer. She smiled as she realized it would maintain some modesty now and, well…Bill had always liked this on her.
“Guess you weren’t much for dressing gowns and the like, where you’re from.” Trixie looked around the room, eyes resting on the bed, the small wicker couch. “Lady that stayed here once, that I took care of for a while, she had velvet and lace dressing gowns like she expected to hold a fuckin’ ball in here.”
Laura had an odd sense that she was somehow invading Trixie’s privacy, even though the woman had come to her. “Trixie, did-”
“You know, I ain’t been in any of these rooms in over a year. Suppose that’s a relief to Farnum, seein’ how things went the last time. Not that I’d trouble you with talk about that.”
The shy, hopeful look from under Trixie’s eyelids was the only cue that Laura needed. Taking one last wistful look at the slim book of sonnets, she sat on the wicker settee, tying the red wrap in a loose knot at her waist. “It’s no trouble at all, Trixie. Mr. Swearengen told us a few things about last year…a girl named Jen? Is there some connection between her…her death and this hotel?”
Trixie hesitated, then took the offered seat next to Laura. “Yes, ma’am, you might say that. You mind if I smoke?”
Patting a slightly trembling hand, Laura smiled. “I haven’t had a cigarette in quite a while. Mind if I join you?”
Trixie finally smiled. “Don’t mind at all, Mrs. Adama.” She pulled out a stained pouch of tobacco and small packet of cigarette papers.
“Please…call me Laura.”
“I imagine you guessed I wasn’t just being a Good Samaritan comin’ up here. Figured you were one of the few I might be able to be around tonight and not get the evil eye, which I’m guessing you can understand if Al told you about killin’ her.”
“He didn’t offer many details.”
“Don’t surprise me that he wouldn’t. Bad night for him. Bad night for me, too, that caused it.”
The golden glow of the whiskey bottle on the dresser was tempting. Laura gave in and poured two glasses, settling back into the settee next to the woman who now looked a little like a lost child. Laura closed her eyes against the smoke and lamplight, opening them again as she took the neatly rolled cigarette. “How’d you cause that?”
Trixie took the glass from her hand. “Everybody was on edge that summer, George Hearst going up against Al, Al pushin’ back.” She took a hard quick drag off her smoke.
“I’ve known Al longer than I care to think about, having whored for him for years, sharin’ his bed, seein’ him almost die more than once. Cocksucker Hearst chopped his finger off to prove a point and it…did something to him. A few years ago, if you’d have told me Al would let somebody live who’d done that, I’d have called you a fuckin’ liar. Far as that goes, if you’d told me a few years ago Al’d be standing up for Alma Garrett-Alma Ellsworth now-I’ve have done the same.”
Trixie’s eyes focused on the smoke rising from her cigarette as Laura took a tea saucer from the desk to catch the ashes, handing it to Trixie without a word.
“Thanks.” She nodded her appreciation. Her lips turned up in a rueful smile. “She was hard-headed, wouldn’t sell out her gold mine to Hearst when he asked…that woman’s never been burdened by an over-abundance of self-preservation when it come to dealing with men, a failing she has no apparent intention of giving up.
“Anyways, her husband, Mr. Ellsworth, put himself up as protector to her and her interests, and Hearst…Hearst had him shot for it.” Laura could see Trixie’s mouth start to tremble as she blew out a deep breath of smoke, eyes starting to well.
Laura sipped at her whiskey, missing the smoothness of the Gem’s special stock, as she sorted out the details she was hearing. She glanced at Trixie from the corner of her eye and wondered if she had been Mr. Ellsworth’s lover. But then, she’d also heard Trixie talk about Sol Star, the hardware store owner, as someone who was apparently a long-term partner…maybe there was an unspoken system of polyamory in Deadwood, although Mrs. Bullock’s snippy comments would indicate otherwise.
Now that she knew more of the townspeople, she realized the “Mrs. Ellsworth” Trixie spoke of was the woman that Mrs. Bullock suspected her husband had feelings for, as well as the author of the letter tucked in the borrowed book. She rested the glass against her cheek and wished she had a couple of whiteboards and markers to keep all this straight.
“Trixie, isn’t that what a good husband does, taking care of his wife? I mean, that’s part of loving someone, isn’t it?”
Trixie snorted. “Wasn’t no ‘love’ between ‘em, although they liked each other well enough, I suppose. Alma-and keep this to yourself, if you don’t mind-had an affair with Mr. Bullock not long after her first husband got killed. I guess Bullock figured his wife was in no great hurry to come out West, hence his fuckin’ surprise when she and her boy showed up by stagecoach one day, him fresh from fuckin’ the widow and in the midst of a brawl in the mud with my boss.” She stubbed out her cigarette and took a long drink of whiskey, smirking as Laura failed to hide the surprised look on her face; the pieces had started fitting together in her head.
“Yeah, her and the Sheriff, he was by then. Goin’ at in in this very room for months, drivin’ Farnum crazy in frustration and envy, I’m sure.” She shot a glance at the large brass bed and looked at Laura, who could feel herself starting to blush. “Heard he’s been on a tear about more recent events, him not having much fellow feelin’ with couples that shake the rafters.”
She lit another tightly rolled cigarette. “I kept out of it until Alma came to me, complaining of throwin’ up mornings and looking for remedies that she figured would be known to whores, and still remembered by them who had been whores before takin’ up more respectable business.” She leaned her head back against the bolstered settee. “In the end, though, genius that I am and seein’ she wanted the babe she carried, talked Ellsworth, who I knew to be a good man, into offerin’ for her hand. Talked her into acceptin’, far as that goes.” She rubbed her eyes, against the smoke or more tears, Laura couldn’t tell.
Another one who put duty and responsibility before love, she guessed. It still seemed odd, somehow that there would be an issue with a pregnancy…even here, the idea of another human coming into the world gave her a hopeful thrill.
She shelved her guesses about polyamory for the time being, reverting back to her observations of at least surface monogamy for the respectable people. Laura swallowed again against the fleeting thought that Richard Adar would have felt right at home here. She coughed at the harsh whiskey burn and offered a few words of condolence on Trixie’s sacrifice, but was met with a blank stare.
Trixie’s shoulders twitched as she chuckled once the meaning sank in.
“Mrs….Laura, you got it all wrong. Me and Ellsworth weren’t lovers…” Her brow creased as she seemed to be turning that statement over in her mind. “I mean, he was a decent enough fuck as a customer, and good-hearted, kind to me and the others…clean, for the most part…it was the knowin’ him so long, I guess.
“He came to Deadwood about the same time me and Al and the rest of our crew got here. Ellsworth knew when to keep his mouth shut, when to make a joke.” She looked around the room with a half-smile. “He was good with children. The widow was raisin’ a beautiful little girl, orphaned before her first husband got killed. He loved that little girl…” Her face turned grave. “Most of us either never knew our pas or wished we hadn’t. It felt awful good to see a man do right by a child, the child knowin’ she’s loved and cared for. Fuckin’ rare, that is to us.”
Laura watched Trixie get up, turning her back as she poured more whiskey. It seemed paternal responsibilities were very different here as well.
“So, this Mr. Ellsworth…he raised Alma’s baby as his own?”
Trixie turned around with a sigh. “Never got the chance. Things went wrong after they moved into their new house…she started to miscarry, and Doc Cochran had to finish it. That was hard…but Ellsworth stood by her as good as any husband could have, sparin’ some kindness for the real father as well.”
“He sounds like a good man, Trixie.”
Trixie finished her shot in one long swallow, eyes closed. “He was. And, much as I hate what happened to Jen, I’m not sure I’d turn from trying to avenge his murder if I had the chance to do it over.”
“You avenged him?”
“Stupid as that sounds even to my ears, yes, I did. Maybe you ain’t noticed, but I can be quick to anger on occasion.” They both half-grinned at that, then Trixie’s eyes sobered. “I saw him layin’ in a mule cart, blood streamin’ outa his head, the hole put there on Hearst’s orders…I wasn’t privy to all the plannin’ Al and them had goin’ about some kind of last stand to rival Custer’s, and didn’t much give a fuck.”
She came back to sit next to Laura, spitting out her words in a staccato rhythm. “I took my boot-gun, opened my blouse to distract the hoopleheads with my tits, and marched right up here to his room across the hall. I flipped up my skirts when he opened the door, hidin’ my face and showin’ my snatch, took my shot, and ran like hell, knowing that I hit him, but suspecting that I’d likely not killed him.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Knowin’ I’d just signed the whole fuckin’ camp’s death warrant, I asked my Jew to shoot me dead to save the innocents…and he did something I never thought he’d do.”
Laura watched a tear fall and soak into the gingham skirt. “What did he do, Trixie?”
She wiped her eye. “He took me to Al. Much as he hated me and Al’s past together…sometimes you need someone who can think outside the rights and wrongs of a thing, do the necessary and think about laws and sin and such at a later time.”
Her stomach clenching, Laura ran a soothing hand over Trixie’s thin back, fingers combing through the blond ringlets. “Yes…yes, sometimes that’s exactly what you need. Sometimes I wish that came easier. At other times, though, I’m glad it’s as hard as it is to think like that. So Al…what was his response?” she asked.
“After he got Alma calmed down, her half-hysterical over gettin’ widowed again over the same fuckin’ gold mine, he called for her child and her…the Sheriff, and Doc Cochran. And then…” She took a deep shuddering breath. “Then, he got a note from Hearst, sayin’ he’d leave the town in peace once the deed to Mrs. Ellsworth’s mine was in his hands and once he’d seen the whore dead, that had shot him.”
More pieces slipped into place in Laura’s head. Things just started happening that got past his control, stuck him in a place where there wasn’t no good answers, Dan had said.
“And you and Al…you were…” Her voice faltered. “Lovers” didn’t seem to fit, but there seemed to be something between them that was equally strong, beyond her former employment.
“Me and Al weren’t nothin’ by then but two people who’d done for each other, the good outweighin’ the bad, there at the last. I was ready to let him do what he had to do, at that point…he’d threatened it often enough over the years.” She sniffled and gave Laura a watery smile. “I guess he was countin’ on me helping him with his bankin’ business and the like, him not knowin’ how things would turn out between him and Alma.
“Anyways, he figured Jen looked similar enough to me…didn’t tell nobody, I don’t think, but Johnny until it was over. After, I dressed her body in my clothes and Dan boxed her up for Hearst to look at in Al’s office.” She looked at the empty wall over the brass bed. “I stayed in one of the whores’ rooms downstairs, listening to Hearst and his men go up, waiting on hearin’ if they’d see through the deception and come for me. I knew Al’d be dead if that came to pass, but I figured if I came out at the right time, I might could still placate the cocksucker and offer up my throat for the town. Funny, how you can get all calm and cold when you think you might be the last chance to…” Her voice trailed off.
“To keep your people from destruction?” Laura closed her eyes and pulled the grieving woman close to her side for a second, feeling her nod in agreement.
“I would have offered my neck at the start, had Mr. Star and Al not taken that off the table. Jen didn’t deserve that.”
“People who don’t deserve it die all the time. Sometimes the best you can ask for…is that they don’t see it coming.” She hesitantly patted Trixie’s blond curls, seeing a smaller brown-haired head and innocent eyes. For a second, the knitted reticule looked like a well-loved rag doll held in a smaller lap.
Trixie leaned against Laura’s comforting touch. “Jen…she was a soft-spoken girl. Working on trying to read, Johnny teachin’ her, blind leadin’ the blind there. We sent word to her sister that whored upstate, not mentioning the details of her passing.” Her expression softened. “Johnny’s maybe got his eye on finally takin’ up with a new girl, looks a bit like Jen.”
Laura wondered how a sex worker could get away with having such sad eyes. Maybe they hadn’t always been this sad. She glanced out the window and saw the silhouette of only one man in the upstairs window across the street. Looking down at the street, she got a glimpse of Bill’s face as he passed under the torchlight at the Gem’s entrance. His steps seemed steady enough, from what she could see.
Trixie seemed to pick up on Laura’s change in mood, her posture straightening. “I’ll be goin’, I suppose. I’m thinkin’ you’re ready to finally see your husband, and I need to make the appearance of going to my rented rooms before I sneak into Mr. Star’s house.” She finally grinned, some of the sadness ebbing from her eyes.
Laura gave her a puzzled look. Neither Trixie nor Mr. Star seemed to be married to other people…
“Trixie, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you have to hide that you and Mr. Star are together?
Trixie rolled her eyes. “He’s got ambitions to be the next Mayor, and apparently politicians have to be more careful than others of who they fuck. Al thinks votes would be lost if it got out that the candidate was ‘whore-fucking with impunity’…sounds over-cautious to my mind, though.”
Watching Bill’s steady walk as he crossed the street, Laura spoke over her shoulder. “When it comes to being a successful politician, Trixie, you can’t be too careful. Elections have been lost for less. It’s a strange game.”
Trixie paused at the door, watching Laura lean towards the window and touch the glass with her fingertips. “I appreciate you takin’ time listenin’ to me tonight.”
“I appreciated your company, Trixie, and your thoughtfulness about that…about my comfort.” Laura’s eyes stayed focused on Bill’s shadowy figure as she heard the door shut with a quiet click.
********************
Trixie paused under the huge moose head over the landing as the hotel clock struck midnight. She snorted; Farnum had been too cheap to spring for a clockmaker’s repairs…damn thing had run five minutes slow for the past year. She paused at the front double doors and looked back up at the Adamas’ rooms. More of a range of understanding than I expected from a schoolteacher, but I’ll keep my thoughts to myself on that score. Her steps lightened as she felt the new day coming.
Title: New In Town, Part 14 (AU)
Author: fragrantwoods
Rating: R for language, adult situations, references to violence, death
Word Count: 3550
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, not making anything
WIP Crossover: Deadwood/Battlestar Galactica
Spoilers for Deadwood S3
Setting: A/U that includes the American Old West (specifically, Deadwood): The Gem Saloon
Timeline: Post-Hearst, pre-fire, not congruent with the events of comm Deadwood S_4
Summary: Bill and Laura find themselves on Earth in 1879 in a Raptor jump gone wrong.
While Bill Adama and Al Swearengen had continued their meeting at the Gem, Laura had returned to their rooms at the Grand Central Hotel to wait and to read, until she has an unexpected visitor...and hears a slightly different version of last year's events.
Previous chapter New in Town part 13
As Laura flipped through the pages of the book of sonnets, a paper fell free and slipped to the floor. Hoping to glean a little more information about the mercurial town boss, she shook away concerns of privacy and held what appeared to be a letter to the lamplight.
Mr. Swearengen,
I deeply appreciate your comfort and care in the last months. It was, as you said, “horrible” being shot at. Your words were a great solace that day, giving me the strength to show myself to that monster Hearst again and deny him the satisfaction of my fear.
Even more cherished in my heart is your sincere, if obscene, absolution that “I didn’t fucking shoot him” when we learned of my poor husband’s murder. I do believe that is the first time my pen has produced that word, but I will forego propriety for the sake of accuracy in my gratitude on this occasion.
I did not expect to find such kindness from you as you have shown me in our occasional afternoon meetings of companionship, which is more a testimony to my limited expectations than a condemnation of your character. I find I am most at peace these days when I reflect that I remain under your protection.
I honestly have little hope that you will take time to read through this little book. I confess I have pictured reading a page or two to you in the midst of one of our meetings, and that imagining has brought me great pleasure and renews my gratitude for your friendship.
Sincerely,
Alma G. Ellsworth
Laura tucked the letter back into the book. She wondered what kind of woman would consider an admitted murderer as kind and protective…as worthy of having poetry read to him by this woman with such elegant handwriting.
***************************
The slim book wavered in her hands as her eyelids fluttered almost closed, then opened again with a start. She placed the bookmark ribbon at the sonnet she’d finished, whispering the last few lines to get the cadence right in her mind…when she had the chance to read the poetry to Bill, she wanted him to get the same pleasure as she had from the rhythm of the lines. She’d just risen from her chair, flexing the stiffness out of her hips, when she heard a light knock on the door. She looked out over the dark street and frowned as she saw the two silhouettes in the office across the way. Not Bill, then…
“Mrs. Adama? It’s Trixie, that helped you with your clothes and hair the other day.”
Laura’s shoulders relaxed as she heard the woman’s voice. Even while drowsing in her chair, she’d kept the residual tenseness from the evening’s revelations. Turning the key, she opened the hotel door to the slim nervous blonde who seemed to be trying for a nonchalance she clearly didn’t feel. Laura glanced over Trixie’s shoulder, seeing that she was alone before standing aside to welcome her in with a questioning look.
“I saw Dan a little bit ago when I was closin’ up the hardware store. Hearing that your man was still in talks with Al, and rememberin’ your unease of the other day, I thought I might offer to help with loosenin’ your stays, as I expect you’d not want to be in your corset any longer than you had to.” The woman’s fingers twisted the cords of her reticule back and forth as she talked.
Judging from the redness around Trixie’s eyes, Laura suspected it wasn’t just concern for her comfort that brought her there, but she gave her credit for a reasonable excuse.
“Thank you, Trixie. I was getting tired of being laced up, and it looks like the men are still going strong.” They made small talk about the coolness of the evening while Trixie unbuttoned the high-necked blouse much quicker than Bill had managed. Laura sighed in relief as the laces were loosened top and bottom, giving her the slackness she needed to unhook the busks herself.
“Oh, Gods, that feels so much better.” She ignored the slight frown Trixie gave at her words as she finally unhooked the last busk. She took the deepest breath she’d had for hours, folding the garment and her blouse before slipping them into the top drawer of the dresser. She had considered redressing until she felt the bright red wrap at the bottom of the drawer. She smiled as she realized it would maintain some modesty now and, well…Bill had always liked this on her.
“Guess you weren’t much for dressing gowns and the like, where you’re from.” Trixie looked around the room, eyes resting on the bed, the small wicker couch. “Lady that stayed here once, that I took care of for a while, she had velvet and lace dressing gowns like she expected to hold a fuckin’ ball in here.”
Laura had an odd sense that she was somehow invading Trixie’s privacy, even though the woman had come to her. “Trixie, did-”
“You know, I ain’t been in any of these rooms in over a year. Suppose that’s a relief to Farnum, seein’ how things went the last time. Not that I’d trouble you with talk about that.”
The shy, hopeful look from under Trixie’s eyelids was the only cue that Laura needed. Taking one last wistful look at the slim book of sonnets, she sat on the wicker settee, tying the red wrap in a loose knot at her waist. “It’s no trouble at all, Trixie. Mr. Swearengen told us a few things about last year…a girl named Jen? Is there some connection between her…her death and this hotel?”
Trixie hesitated, then took the offered seat next to Laura. “Yes, ma’am, you might say that. You mind if I smoke?”
Patting a slightly trembling hand, Laura smiled. “I haven’t had a cigarette in quite a while. Mind if I join you?”
Trixie finally smiled. “Don’t mind at all, Mrs. Adama.” She pulled out a stained pouch of tobacco and small packet of cigarette papers.
“Please…call me Laura.”
“I imagine you guessed I wasn’t just being a Good Samaritan comin’ up here. Figured you were one of the few I might be able to be around tonight and not get the evil eye, which I’m guessing you can understand if Al told you about killin’ her.”
“He didn’t offer many details.”
“Don’t surprise me that he wouldn’t. Bad night for him. Bad night for me, too, that caused it.”
The golden glow of the whiskey bottle on the dresser was tempting. Laura gave in and poured two glasses, settling back into the settee next to the woman who now looked a little like a lost child. Laura closed her eyes against the smoke and lamplight, opening them again as she took the neatly rolled cigarette. “How’d you cause that?”
Trixie took the glass from her hand. “Everybody was on edge that summer, George Hearst going up against Al, Al pushin’ back.” She took a hard quick drag off her smoke.
“I’ve known Al longer than I care to think about, having whored for him for years, sharin’ his bed, seein’ him almost die more than once. Cocksucker Hearst chopped his finger off to prove a point and it…did something to him. A few years ago, if you’d have told me Al would let somebody live who’d done that, I’d have called you a fuckin’ liar. Far as that goes, if you’d told me a few years ago Al’d be standing up for Alma Garrett-Alma Ellsworth now-I’ve have done the same.”
Trixie’s eyes focused on the smoke rising from her cigarette as Laura took a tea saucer from the desk to catch the ashes, handing it to Trixie without a word.
“Thanks.” She nodded her appreciation. Her lips turned up in a rueful smile. “She was hard-headed, wouldn’t sell out her gold mine to Hearst when he asked…that woman’s never been burdened by an over-abundance of self-preservation when it come to dealing with men, a failing she has no apparent intention of giving up.
“Anyways, her husband, Mr. Ellsworth, put himself up as protector to her and her interests, and Hearst…Hearst had him shot for it.” Laura could see Trixie’s mouth start to tremble as she blew out a deep breath of smoke, eyes starting to well.
Laura sipped at her whiskey, missing the smoothness of the Gem’s special stock, as she sorted out the details she was hearing. She glanced at Trixie from the corner of her eye and wondered if she had been Mr. Ellsworth’s lover. But then, she’d also heard Trixie talk about Sol Star, the hardware store owner, as someone who was apparently a long-term partner…maybe there was an unspoken system of polyamory in Deadwood, although Mrs. Bullock’s snippy comments would indicate otherwise.
Now that she knew more of the townspeople, she realized the “Mrs. Ellsworth” Trixie spoke of was the woman that Mrs. Bullock suspected her husband had feelings for, as well as the author of the letter tucked in the borrowed book. She rested the glass against her cheek and wished she had a couple of whiteboards and markers to keep all this straight.
“Trixie, isn’t that what a good husband does, taking care of his wife? I mean, that’s part of loving someone, isn’t it?”
Trixie snorted. “Wasn’t no ‘love’ between ‘em, although they liked each other well enough, I suppose. Alma-and keep this to yourself, if you don’t mind-had an affair with Mr. Bullock not long after her first husband got killed. I guess Bullock figured his wife was in no great hurry to come out West, hence his fuckin’ surprise when she and her boy showed up by stagecoach one day, him fresh from fuckin’ the widow and in the midst of a brawl in the mud with my boss.” She stubbed out her cigarette and took a long drink of whiskey, smirking as Laura failed to hide the surprised look on her face; the pieces had started fitting together in her head.
“Yeah, her and the Sheriff, he was by then. Goin’ at in in this very room for months, drivin’ Farnum crazy in frustration and envy, I’m sure.” She shot a glance at the large brass bed and looked at Laura, who could feel herself starting to blush. “Heard he’s been on a tear about more recent events, him not having much fellow feelin’ with couples that shake the rafters.”
She lit another tightly rolled cigarette. “I kept out of it until Alma came to me, complaining of throwin’ up mornings and looking for remedies that she figured would be known to whores, and still remembered by them who had been whores before takin’ up more respectable business.” She leaned her head back against the bolstered settee. “In the end, though, genius that I am and seein’ she wanted the babe she carried, talked Ellsworth, who I knew to be a good man, into offerin’ for her hand. Talked her into acceptin’, far as that goes.” She rubbed her eyes, against the smoke or more tears, Laura couldn’t tell.
Another one who put duty and responsibility before love, she guessed. It still seemed odd, somehow that there would be an issue with a pregnancy…even here, the idea of another human coming into the world gave her a hopeful thrill.
She shelved her guesses about polyamory for the time being, reverting back to her observations of at least surface monogamy for the respectable people. Laura swallowed again against the fleeting thought that Richard Adar would have felt right at home here. She coughed at the harsh whiskey burn and offered a few words of condolence on Trixie’s sacrifice, but was met with a blank stare.
Trixie’s shoulders twitched as she chuckled once the meaning sank in.
“Mrs….Laura, you got it all wrong. Me and Ellsworth weren’t lovers…” Her brow creased as she seemed to be turning that statement over in her mind. “I mean, he was a decent enough fuck as a customer, and good-hearted, kind to me and the others…clean, for the most part…it was the knowin’ him so long, I guess.
“He came to Deadwood about the same time me and Al and the rest of our crew got here. Ellsworth knew when to keep his mouth shut, when to make a joke.” She looked around the room with a half-smile. “He was good with children. The widow was raisin’ a beautiful little girl, orphaned before her first husband got killed. He loved that little girl…” Her face turned grave. “Most of us either never knew our pas or wished we hadn’t. It felt awful good to see a man do right by a child, the child knowin’ she’s loved and cared for. Fuckin’ rare, that is to us.”
Laura watched Trixie get up, turning her back as she poured more whiskey. It seemed paternal responsibilities were very different here as well.
“So, this Mr. Ellsworth…he raised Alma’s baby as his own?”
Trixie turned around with a sigh. “Never got the chance. Things went wrong after they moved into their new house…she started to miscarry, and Doc Cochran had to finish it. That was hard…but Ellsworth stood by her as good as any husband could have, sparin’ some kindness for the real father as well.”
“He sounds like a good man, Trixie.”
Trixie finished her shot in one long swallow, eyes closed. “He was. And, much as I hate what happened to Jen, I’m not sure I’d turn from trying to avenge his murder if I had the chance to do it over.”
“You avenged him?”
“Stupid as that sounds even to my ears, yes, I did. Maybe you ain’t noticed, but I can be quick to anger on occasion.” They both half-grinned at that, then Trixie’s eyes sobered. “I saw him layin’ in a mule cart, blood streamin’ outa his head, the hole put there on Hearst’s orders…I wasn’t privy to all the plannin’ Al and them had goin’ about some kind of last stand to rival Custer’s, and didn’t much give a fuck.”
She came back to sit next to Laura, spitting out her words in a staccato rhythm. “I took my boot-gun, opened my blouse to distract the hoopleheads with my tits, and marched right up here to his room across the hall. I flipped up my skirts when he opened the door, hidin’ my face and showin’ my snatch, took my shot, and ran like hell, knowing that I hit him, but suspecting that I’d likely not killed him.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Knowin’ I’d just signed the whole fuckin’ camp’s death warrant, I asked my Jew to shoot me dead to save the innocents…and he did something I never thought he’d do.”
Laura watched a tear fall and soak into the gingham skirt. “What did he do, Trixie?”
She wiped her eye. “He took me to Al. Much as he hated me and Al’s past together…sometimes you need someone who can think outside the rights and wrongs of a thing, do the necessary and think about laws and sin and such at a later time.”
Her stomach clenching, Laura ran a soothing hand over Trixie’s thin back, fingers combing through the blond ringlets. “Yes…yes, sometimes that’s exactly what you need. Sometimes I wish that came easier. At other times, though, I’m glad it’s as hard as it is to think like that. So Al…what was his response?” she asked.
“After he got Alma calmed down, her half-hysterical over gettin’ widowed again over the same fuckin’ gold mine, he called for her child and her…the Sheriff, and Doc Cochran. And then…” She took a deep shuddering breath. “Then, he got a note from Hearst, sayin’ he’d leave the town in peace once the deed to Mrs. Ellsworth’s mine was in his hands and once he’d seen the whore dead, that had shot him.”
More pieces slipped into place in Laura’s head. Things just started happening that got past his control, stuck him in a place where there wasn’t no good answers, Dan had said.
“And you and Al…you were…” Her voice faltered. “Lovers” didn’t seem to fit, but there seemed to be something between them that was equally strong, beyond her former employment.
“Me and Al weren’t nothin’ by then but two people who’d done for each other, the good outweighin’ the bad, there at the last. I was ready to let him do what he had to do, at that point…he’d threatened it often enough over the years.” She sniffled and gave Laura a watery smile. “I guess he was countin’ on me helping him with his bankin’ business and the like, him not knowin’ how things would turn out between him and Alma.
“Anyways, he figured Jen looked similar enough to me…didn’t tell nobody, I don’t think, but Johnny until it was over. After, I dressed her body in my clothes and Dan boxed her up for Hearst to look at in Al’s office.” She looked at the empty wall over the brass bed. “I stayed in one of the whores’ rooms downstairs, listening to Hearst and his men go up, waiting on hearin’ if they’d see through the deception and come for me. I knew Al’d be dead if that came to pass, but I figured if I came out at the right time, I might could still placate the cocksucker and offer up my throat for the town. Funny, how you can get all calm and cold when you think you might be the last chance to…” Her voice trailed off.
“To keep your people from destruction?” Laura closed her eyes and pulled the grieving woman close to her side for a second, feeling her nod in agreement.
“I would have offered my neck at the start, had Mr. Star and Al not taken that off the table. Jen didn’t deserve that.”
“People who don’t deserve it die all the time. Sometimes the best you can ask for…is that they don’t see it coming.” She hesitantly patted Trixie’s blond curls, seeing a smaller brown-haired head and innocent eyes. For a second, the knitted reticule looked like a well-loved rag doll held in a smaller lap.
Trixie leaned against Laura’s comforting touch. “Jen…she was a soft-spoken girl. Working on trying to read, Johnny teachin’ her, blind leadin’ the blind there. We sent word to her sister that whored upstate, not mentioning the details of her passing.” Her expression softened. “Johnny’s maybe got his eye on finally takin’ up with a new girl, looks a bit like Jen.”
Laura wondered how a sex worker could get away with having such sad eyes. Maybe they hadn’t always been this sad. She glanced out the window and saw the silhouette of only one man in the upstairs window across the street. Looking down at the street, she got a glimpse of Bill’s face as he passed under the torchlight at the Gem’s entrance. His steps seemed steady enough, from what she could see.
Trixie seemed to pick up on Laura’s change in mood, her posture straightening. “I’ll be goin’, I suppose. I’m thinkin’ you’re ready to finally see your husband, and I need to make the appearance of going to my rented rooms before I sneak into Mr. Star’s house.” She finally grinned, some of the sadness ebbing from her eyes.
Laura gave her a puzzled look. Neither Trixie nor Mr. Star seemed to be married to other people…
“Trixie, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you have to hide that you and Mr. Star are together?
Trixie rolled her eyes. “He’s got ambitions to be the next Mayor, and apparently politicians have to be more careful than others of who they fuck. Al thinks votes would be lost if it got out that the candidate was ‘whore-fucking with impunity’…sounds over-cautious to my mind, though.”
Watching Bill’s steady walk as he crossed the street, Laura spoke over her shoulder. “When it comes to being a successful politician, Trixie, you can’t be too careful. Elections have been lost for less. It’s a strange game.”
Trixie paused at the door, watching Laura lean towards the window and touch the glass with her fingertips. “I appreciate you takin’ time listenin’ to me tonight.”
“I appreciated your company, Trixie, and your thoughtfulness about that…about my comfort.” Laura’s eyes stayed focused on Bill’s shadowy figure as she heard the door shut with a quiet click.
********************
Trixie paused under the huge moose head over the landing as the hotel clock struck midnight. She snorted; Farnum had been too cheap to spring for a clockmaker’s repairs…damn thing had run five minutes slow for the past year. She paused at the front double doors and looked back up at the Adamas’ rooms. More of a range of understanding than I expected from a schoolteacher, but I’ll keep my thoughts to myself on that score. Her steps lightened as she felt the new day coming.