A Lady in Defiance (31 page)

Daisy read the last sentence at least ten times. Neither do I
condemn thee. Go and sin no more. It kept running through her head as she
stared down at the words. He had forgiven that woman so easily; in fact, he had
been more interested in making a point to the hypocrites who had paraded her
out to him. He had spoken to the woman with kindness but firmness.

It amazed Daisy. This glimpse at Christ’s heart toward a
loose woman intrigued her; made her hunger to know more. Eagerly, she flipped
to Luke 7 and read the story of a prostitute who had slipped into the
Pharisees’ home without a word and began humbly ministering to Jesus. She felt
this woman’s tears and broken heart as she desperately and with reverence washed
her Lord’s feet.

What did Jesus see when he looked at her? Her desperate
desire to find forgiveness, to know that someone cared about her? She wasn’t
welcome in this home, but had come anyway, to offer up this simple act of love.
Had she come expecting him to forgive her sins, or did she so love this Savior
that to serve him was all that mattered?

Daisy imagined he had touched her cheek lovingly when He
announced, “Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven;
for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And
He said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And He said to the woman, thy faith
has saved thee; go in peace.”

Her sins, which are many, are forgiven.

Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.

If he could forgive her, could he−would
he−forgive the Flower known as Daisy? Did he know that her real name was
Mollie Stewart?

Crying, she held the Bible to her chest and slipped to her
knees to find out.

Chapter
26

“
Senoras, Senoras
! There ees someone at the door!”

Naomi’s eyes flew open when she heard the panic in Emilio’s
voice, and the frantic banging on the front door. Leaping out of bed, Naomi
threw on her robe and grabbed the shotgun. She raced down the stairs, followed
by Rebecca. Hannah stopped at the landing, obviously unwilling to go too far
away from little Billy.

The sisters had taken Emilio completely under their wings
after clearing it with Mr. McIntyre, and moved the boy into the small room
beneath the stairs, behind the hotel’s new registration desk. Because of his
proximity to the front, he was the first to hear the desperate knocking in the
middle of the night. As if he was afraid of who might be standing on the other
side at this late hour, he had lit a lamp and called up to the sisters. 

Naomi heard more frenzied pounding as a female voice called
from the other side of the door. “It’s me, Lily. Please come quick. Daisy’s
been−”

Naomi jerked the door half way open, freezing Lily’s hand in
mid-knock. When she saw the girl was alone, she opened it wider and let her
come in along with a whirl of snowflakes. The Negro girl from the Garden wasn’t
even wearing a coat, but was, instead, running about in a very revealing dress.
Rubbing the chill and snow from her dark arms, she frantically blurted out a
jumble of details.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Naomi bellowed, grabbing her shoulder.
“Calm down. Now
what
about Daisy?”

The girl breathed and tried again. “She’s hurt real bad. A
customer knocked her around when she wouldn’t go along. She asked if Hannah
would come.”

Hannah pressed her hand to her stomach, as if quelling
butterflies.

“Get dressed, Hannah,” Naomi ordered over her shoulder, but
then looked up and saw the concern in her sister’s eyes. “Little Billy will be
all right for a while. Mollie needs you.”

Rebecca walked back to the stairs and looked up her little
sister. “You go with her, Hannah. I’ll tend to Billy.”

Naomi grabbed a coat from the rack beside the door and hung
it on Lily. “We’ll be right along. Tell Daisy we’re coming.”

The two women exchanged understanding glances then Lily
sprinted out the door.

Mr. McIntyre greeted Hannah and Naomi as they climbed the
stairs in the closed saloon.

Naomi stopped one step below him. She knew she was on a slow
burn because whatever trouble was on the other side of that door was arguably
his fault. “Have you called the doctor?” she asked.

Mr. McIntyre tugged at his collar. “Well, she insisted on
seeing Hannah first.” Naomi hoped her expression showed that she did not
approve of that answer. He tried to explain. “She seemed rather emphatic about
it.”

Gently, Hannah pushed past them both and went to the door.
Opening it slowly, she looked back at Naomi and motioned for her to follow.
They found Daisy asleep on the bed while an Asian Flower dabbed delicately at a
bloodied and bruised cheekbone. Both sisters gasped when they saw Daisy’s face,
almost unrecognizable from the swelling, discoloration and drying blood.

The Asian girl, her expression inscrutable and cold,
immediately passed the hand towel and bowl of water to Hannah. “She’s been
waiting for you.”

Naomi grabbed the girl’s arm as she attempted to slip past
her. “Can you get us some witch hazel, liniment, and a steak?” It wasn’t really
a request.

Without meeting Naomi’s gaze, the girl nodded and added
dryly, “I think you will need bandages also. Her ribs are broken.”

Naomi watched the woman leave then drew in a breath. Hannah
had already sat down next to Daisy and was tending to the cut on her cheek.
Daisy’s left eye was red, black and blue, and completely swollen shut. Her top
lip, smeared with blood, was puffed up to twice its normal size. A trail of
dried blood trickled from one nostril in her slightly askew nose and there were
bruises on her throat that clearly matched the placement of fingers. As Hannah
dabbed at the blood, unbridled tears ran down her face.

Naomi wanted to cry too, and scream, and beat the ever-loving
daylights out of the monster that had done this. Reining in her anger for the
moment, she touched Hannah on the shoulder. “I need to pull the blanket back.
That girl said she’s got some broken ribs. I need to check and see if there are
any other injuries.”

Hannah nodded and moved enough to allow the blanket to come
down. Slowly, trying not to wake Daisy, Naomi pulled the cover back and saw
that they had stripped the girl. The abuse her body had taken from the customer
was obvious. Her ribs were turning all shades of blue, bruises were discoloring
her thighs; her knees and elbows were scratched and bloodied, and her right
hand was wrapped in a cold, damp towel resting on her chest. Naomi covered her
back up, but left the hand on top of the blanket. Carefully, she pulled the towel
away and saw that three of Daisy’s fingers were bent in grotesque angles. Not
broken, necessarily, but badly dislocated.

Hannah regarded her sister with grief-stricken eyes and Naomi
nodded. “I’ll send for the doctor.”

Daisy moaned as Hannah dabbed at a cut along her jaw. “It’s
all right, Mollie. We’re here now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Her one good eye fluttered open and the girl tried to smile
when she saw her friend. She attempted to talk, but Hannah shushed her. “Don’t
say anything. Just be quiet−”

Daisy rolled her head weakly from side to side and tried
again to talk. Her voice was raspy at first but she persisted. Finally,
hoarsely, she whispered, “Go and sin no more.” She closed her eye and swallowed
hard against the pain. “My sins are forgiven.” Then she smiled as big as she
could. “He told me so.”

Naomi and Hannah cleaned Daisy up as much as they could and
then assisted when the doctor arrived. The girls smelled whisky on his breath,
but he seemed sober enough. An elderly gentleman with a short shock of tousled,
gray hair and thick, silver glasses, he handled Daisy like a china doll as he
wrapped her ribs. Perhaps he was a slave to liquor, Naomi thought, but he was
extremely compassionate with his patients. He had been kind and reassuring with
Hannah during her labor and now treated Daisy as if she was a fragile princess.
Lifting the girl and moving her caused her extreme pain but he dealt with her
gingerly, speaking low and soothingly.

Naomi appreciated his bedside manner, especially when he got
to the last task at hand. They had cleaned Daisy’s wounds, placed a steak over
her eye, bandaged her ribs…now he had to relocate her fingers. “Now, Daisy,” he
rubbed her arm gently, “this is going to hurt like the devil, but when it’s
over, it’s over. The pain will stop almost instantly, unlike those ribs of
yours.” He grasped her index finger and looked at her. She closed her eye and
nodded.

He had to perform the procedure three times and each time
Daisy cried out, writhing in pain. Hannah sat on the other side of the bed,
holding her free hand and whispering calm words. When the last finger was done,
Dr. Cook gave her a teaspoon of laudanum and packed up his bag. He stepped away
from the bed and brought Naomi with him.

“I think she’ll be all right, despite the fact that she looks
as if she was run over by a freight wagon. She’s mostly just going to be very
sore.” He handed her the bottle of laudanum. “Give her a teaspoon of this every
four to six hours for two days. Start slacking off after that.”

Naomi took the bottle and clutched it to her heart. “When can
we move her?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Move her? To where?”

“To our hotel. She’s leaving this place and never coming
back.”

He thought for a moment, scratching his chin. “Well, it’s not
far, but those ribs of hers are going to make her wish she were dead. I
suppose, though, you could move her tomorrow sometime. Give her a dose of
that,” he pointed at the medicine, “wait for it to take effect then do it…
carefully
.
Use a stretcher.”

He gave Daisy one last, sad look. “I’m getting’ tired of
seein’ this kind of thing. It’s enough to take the steam out of a man.”

Naomi shut the door behind him thinking angrily,
I’d like
to do just that
. The man who did this was a vile monster, but what kind of
a man opened a business that traded in the flesh of women as if they were
horses−no, worse−mere toys for a man’s amusement? It was sick and
disgusting. It was the height of selfishness and arrogance. Naomi felt a
painful new level of loathing for Mr. McIntyre, though she didn’t exactly
understand why it should grieve her so to feel this way about him.

Daisy slept quietly now and Hannah fidgeted as she stared
uncertainly at her sister. “I need to go, Naomi. I’ve been gone too long.”

Lost in her roiling thoughts, it took a moment for Hannah’s
voice to intrude. “What? Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, yes, of course you must go. Send
Rebecca down when it’s light.”

Hannah patted her friend’s hand one more time then started
for the door. Something stopped her, though. Gazing over her shoulder at her
sister she warned, “Hate and anger just give Satan a foothold in our lives,
Naomi. I know you’re seething; so am I, but we can’t hate the people
responsible for this.” Naomi clamped her jaws shut and offered no reply.
Nothing she could say at this moment would sound very Christian.

When Naomi didn’t reply, Hannah opened the door only to find
Mr. McIntyre about to knock. “I was just coming to check on the patient.”

“Certainly.” Hannah stepped aside for him. “I’ll see you in a
while, Naomi. Mr. McIntyre.” With that, she slipped out the door. Naomi stepped
closer to the bed to avoid being near Mr. McIntyre and reported on Daisy’s
condition with her back to him. “Dr. Cook says she’ll recover. Cuts and
bruises. Broken ribs.”

She shook her head, so livid she wasn’t sure she could stop
the tears. Her chin quivered as she fought for control. Swallowing, she turned
on Mr. McIntyre.

Chapter
27

Naomi’s eyes hid nothing of her heart. McIntyre saw right
away that where once a friendship had started to blossom, now there were only
ashes. She blamed him for Daisy’s injuries and, he supposed, in a roundabout
way, it was his fault.

“Where’s the man who did this to her?”

“In jail.”

“What will he be charged with?”

He sensed no answer would be the right one, but he told the
truth nonetheless. “Assault and battery. He’ll get thirty days in jail and a
$75 fine.”

“And you? Will he compensate you for lost revenue?”

The disgusted, embittered look in her eyes affected him, though
he couldn’t say just how. He had almost seen a spark of happiness in her eyes
lately when she looked at him; not now. The passion he saw burning there at the
moment was not the kind he ever wanted to see again. She hated him, even
loathed him. It left him speechless−the heat of it, the disappointment of
it.

“What kind of a man are you? How can you live with yourself?
These women are human beings, not horses to hook up to a freight wagon. In
fact, you probably treat your horses better.” Shuffling sounds behind him drew
her eyes to the hallway. He knew his Flowers had gathered in the shadows to
listen-in.