Inez rolled over in bed, yawning, and placed her hands over her eyes, pressing down on the lids. She willed herself to slide back down into slumber.
It’s too early.
Beside her, Reverend Sands stirred and flung one arm across her, pulling her close. She allowed herself to snuggle against his shoulder, nose to warm skin.
If only this moment could last forever
.
But of course, it could not.
Sands stirred again. His arm slid away. She heard the hiss of sheets as he slid out from underneath them and the creak of floorboards as he moved about the room, gathering his clothes from the bedpost, the chair, the washbasin. A few minutes later, he sat on the edge of her bed, already dressed in drawers and trousers.
“What’s the hurry, Reverend?” Inez reached over to trail one finger down his spine.
“No sermon to deliver, but one to prepare before joining the Grants and their party for this Saturday’s tours.” He pulled his undervest on. Inez’s hand crept beneath the hem. She rested her hand on his back, feeling the muscles stretch and flex as he bent to draw up stockings, pick up a shoe.
“Command performance with the Grants?” she inquired. “And I’d assume that includes Governor Pitkin, the Routts, the Wesleys, the Tabors, and so on? You move in high circles, Reverend. Please pass along my salutations. I’ll stand the gentlemen to drinks on the house should any care to amble into the Silver Queen at some time during their visit. Goodness knows, Doc insisted I buy great quantities of Old Crow in honor of the general’s visit. I’ll even erect a plaque to commemorate the spot where they stand at the bar.” She pulled herself closer to him, curling around him. Her hand circled around and crept down to the front of his trousers. “Speaking of standing erect…”
She heard an intake of breath, held for a moment in deliberation, then released in surrender.
She smiled to herself as a shoe thumped on the rug.
“And there goes my carefully constructed schedule for the morning.” He twisted around to face her in the dark. “The spirit moves me to consider delivering an extemporaneous sermon on Sunday. Perhaps you might help me pick a verse to build a homily upon, since this change of plans can be laid directly at your door.”
He bent down and kissed her as she put both hands to work undoing the buttons on his dress trousers.
“Hmmm.” Inez lifted her throat as his mouth left hers and proceeded along the line of her neck. “I’m not as quick with the Bible as you are, but I’ve always found the Song of Solomon particularly moving.” She slid his trousers off, hooking her fingers to remove his long underwear as well.
“You could start with, ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,’” she said.
He complied, pulling Inez up and resting her back against the brass rails of the bedstead. The thin, intervening quilt that separated them slithered down to her lap. “‘For thy love is better than wine.’” He whispered the words into her ear.
A convulsive shiver raced over her skin.
He continued, hand tracing the contours of one breast. “‘We will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine.’”
“You skipped some,” she said, near breathless.
“I’m focusing on my favorite parts.”
“Ah. Well. In that case. ‘Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon.’ And speaking of flocks, lambs and so on, have you…?”
He reached over to the spindle-legged table that served as a bed stand. She heard the crinkle of waxed paper as he extracted a French envelope from its wrappings. She draped her arms around him, pressed herself to his back. It was as if their skin had melded, leaving no boundaries between her flesh and his.
Inez sighed in satisfaction and anticipation as he finished his preparations.
Breaking from her grasp, he turned and gently lay her back down on the featherbed, saying “‘O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock.’”
He settled above her and whispered in her ear: “‘Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair.’”
At this point, she could no longer bring to mind much of anything about the Bible, much less the Song.
Finally: “‘I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go.’”
He answered, “‘Thou hast ravished my heart.’”
After that, there were no more words.
***
“I have a favor to ask of you, my love.”
Inez opened one eye. The early morning light pierced her sight like a dagger. She closed it again and rolled to face the opposite direction, the direction of the reverend’s voice.
“You mean a favor besides the one I have granted you in letting you keep an extra set of clothes here, and allowing you to leave your evening wear here, so that the good folk of Leadville don’t see you strolling home at this hour still dressed for last night’s reception?”
“Yes, Inez. A favor in addition to that one.” Reverend Sands sounded amused.
She opened her eyes. Once again, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes.
“And what favor is that, pray tell, minister of my heart?”
Sands stood, moved to the washstand, poured water from the pitcher into the washbowl. “In addition to preparing my sermon this morning, my plans had included running an errand of mercy.”
“Well, you asked for my help with the sermon. I trust that my suggestions and offerings were acceptable?”
He turned and smiled at her. “Very.”
It was amazing how that smile could make her feel like the only woman on earth. Eve to his Adam. Until, of course, he smiled at other women.
Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.
“Pardon? Did you say something?” He paused from splashing water on his face and turned toward her quizzically.
“Just thinking aloud, coming up with a closing line for your sermon: ‘For love is strong as death.’ There you go. Homily completed. So, what is this errand of mercy you’d like me to run?”
He unhooked a towel to dry his face. “I was planning to drop by the jail, give Flo a copy of the Good Book, and deliver some kind words and encouragement. I thought I’d also find out who she’s left in charge at her house, see if there’s anything the women need after the fire, and encourage them to attend services tomorrow.”
Inez rolled her eyes, unseen by the reverend. “Justice Sands. It never ceases to amaze me how you try to draw the blackest sheep into your flock. I know that Flo and the rest used to attend regularly, but that was last winter. Oh, how the town has changed, in just those eight, nine months, and the congregation with it. Consider how the women of the church view me, then multiply that a hundredfold. That is how they’d react if a pack of State Street prostitutes were to come traipsing into the church. Not to mention the consternation it would cause the good husbands who happen to have, shall we say, a certain intimate familiarity with Flo’s women.”
His face emerged from the towel, expression stubborn. “They are God’s children. They have souls, as we all do. For all their trials and tribulations, their use and misuse and abandonment by others, they deserve more of God’s—and our—love, attention, and charity, rather than less. They have a greater fight to fight against temptation than any others of the church. We should be providing assistance, not disdain.”
Inez threw up a hand to halt the flow of words. “Justice. Reverend J. B. Sands. Please. You do not need to give me a sermon. It’s the old biddies of the church you should be preaching to. And I know, if you were to say all this to them, they would gaze into your eyes, get lost in the music of your voice, and when you’re done, they’d go off and whisper among themselves, ‘Oh, that Reverend Sands, he is so ignorant of the ways of women! It’s all right, he hasn’t the slightest notion of what he speaks, but his heart is in the right place.’ They always find ways to explain away your enthusiastic verbal transgressions, forgive your very generous acts of charity to the misbegotten, blame the saloonkeeper not the minister when you offer your arm.”
The last slipped out unplanned. She shook her head, wishing she could take it back.
He stared at her, his countenance hardening. “I follow the path that my life set forth for me. I know the dark side, the low side, the despairing side of humanity. What it’s like to walk through the valley of death and despair, believing there is no other way, no other end but a meaningless and final death, with nothing but oblivion beyond. It is the fire that tempered the steel of my life’s resolve. This is the work I am here to do—reach out to others who are struggling on that same path.”
He flipped the towel onto the towel rod. “I’m sorry, Inez. I don’t mean to head down this road right now. I’m only asking this small thing from you, if you please. Go see Flo this morning. Go as a representative of the church. You can give her a Bible from the stack by my desk in the rectory or buy one at Warner’s bookstore and tell them to put it on the church’s account. It’s a token and shows her I…we…care. Be kind to Flo. I understand that Officer Ryan has brought a long list of charges against her. She’ll not be released before the end of next week, at the earliest. And she is the one that holds that house together. Who knows who will prey upon the women there while she’s gone.”
“Enough, enough. I’ll do it. I have no grudge against Flo.”
Indeed, her fortunes are intertwined with mine. If her house falls, I’ll fall with her.
The passing thought tasted bitter. Tasted of regret tinged with panic. “I’ll take her a Bible. Maybe I can even bring her some decent food. I’ll beg a basket from Bridgette. But I won’t tell her whom it’s for. I’ll simply say I’m off to visit a member of the church, who’s in need of comfort. That will do. She’ll fuss and tsk-tsk, and Flo will be the better for it.”
“Thank you.” His voice softened. “I didn’t mean to lecture or deliver a sermon. You are my soul, Inez. The light of my life. ‘Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.’ Only I’d argue one point at the end: I believe love is stronger.”
Washed and dressed, he kissed her one last time. “You’ll be in my thoughts today. All day, every minute. I’ll be by the Silver Queen at ten-thirty to escort you to the banquet tonight.”
Inez stopped before the doors leading to the county jail. She gazed at the brick building, which, although only one story, bore more than a passing architectural resemblance to Flo’s brick brothel, and tucked a scented handkerchief up her sleeve for quick retrieval. A small pocket Bible, obtained from Warner’s Books, was under one arm. The other carried a covered basket laden with the fluffiest of Bridgette’s biscuits, a hunk of butter straight from the cooler and wrapped in waxed paper, and a brimming tin of stew. Inez couldn’t figure out how to tell Bridgette that, without a knife, the butter would be useless, most likely melting into a puddle of grease in the overheated and crowded jail.
Inez pushed open the doors and entered, wending her way to the wood addition that held the guardroom and kitchen of the institution. The county jailer, Jake Miller, looked up from his morning paper and coffee, then rose to his feet when Inez brushed through the entryway. “Why, Mrs. Stannert, good morning!”
“Good morning, Mr. Miller. I’m here as a representative of the church to bring a few things to one of your inmates.” She placed the book and the basket on the table.
“Smells like Mrs. O’Malley’s doings here.” He lifted the napkin and inspected the contents of the basket, then replaced the napkin and flipped perfunctorily through the small Bible. “And who’s the lucky recipient?”
“Mrs. Sweet.”
“Flo?” He raised his bushy eyebrows, then lowered them in a thoughtful frown. “That’s right. I remember hearing she’s kinda a supporter of Reverend Sands’ church and all.”
“The good reverend is busy today with the Grant party and asked me to come in his stead. He asked me to visit Mrs. Sweet and find out if there’s any aid of a spiritual or material nature we might be able to provide.”
“Well, let’s go. Parsons’ in there with Officer Ryan and some visitors for Flo, so he’ll have the keys. We can just pound on the door that leads to the block. Now, ’bout the only thing that Flo needs right now is a ore-car full of silver, what with the fines, charges, and fees The Hatchet’s got levied against her. Too bad she doesn’t keep her money tucked in a mattress or safe or some such where it’s easy to get at. Anyhow, The Hatchet’s got such a bee in his bonnet over this, I think he’d make a stink if we let her go anytime afore autumn.”
Inez sighed, and picked up her skirts to follow him into the jail proper. As they approached the door to the inner sanctum, it squeaked open and disgorged four people. Miller greeted Assistant Jailer Parsons with “How’re the county’s guests today?”
Parsons shrugged, holding the door open for the rest of his group to exit. “All enjoyin’ their breakfasts. Well, the sane and sober ones are, anyways.”
Inez and Miller moved to the side to let the others pass by. Inez identified one of Flo’s women, Molly, her formerly wild red hair pinned up and under an elegant hat. The hat, a pale shade of gold, was of a match to her haute couture lilac and gold walking suit.
Business must be good if one of Flo’s can buy such an outfit and drag it though the Leadville dust and mud.
Molly stared straight ahead through reddened eyes, acknowledging neither Inez nor the jailer. Trailing behind her was Flo’s doorman and bouncer, Danny. He looked at Inez sorrowfully, as if part of a funeral train. Bringing up the rear was The Hatchet. He stopped to have a muttered word with Parsons, then gave Inez the once-over, face of stone, before following the others to the exit.
Parsons handed the keys to Miller, who turned to Inez and said, “Be warned, Mrs. Stannert, the smell here ain’t pretty. We got a full house plus some right now.”
Inez whipped out her handkerchief and pressed it to her nose against the reek.
Miller continued, “Gets so’s you can’t smell it at all after a while.”
Anxious to get her promised task completed, Inez stepped into the jailroom. She paused on the corridor that encircled a large iron cage containing eight cells. As she stepped forward with the jailer, their footsteps clanged on the boiler iron floor. The ringing bounced off the brick walls and added the mutterings and louder vocalizations of the jail population. Flo had a cell to herself, close to the locked door leading into the cage.
Inez stepped up to the bars facing the outside corridor, staring. A worn but serviceable rag rug lined the iron floor, while a satin coverlet and a similarly covered tasseled pillow graced the iron bedstead. A gilt-edged mirror balanced on a washstand that held a porcelain pitcher and washbasin. Embroidered linen runners covered a wood table in the center of the cell.
Flo sat by the table in a high-backed rocking chair, a crumpled paper clenched in her hand. She wore a dark-striped princess polonaise, looking much like a proper woman set to receive visitors in her private parlor. Except for her eyes. Her gaze was locked in a prison of grief, anger, and something else. Fear, Inez decided.
The county jailer surveyed her cell. “Hey, Miz Flo, this is right nice. You’ve got all the comforts of home here. Nice of Danny and Miss Molly to bring the stuff in for you. And we sure appreciate the donation to the police retirement fund that you-all agreed to make when you are released. Now, here’s Mrs. Stannert. She’s come from Reverend Sands’ church and brought some sustenance for you.”
“Sustenance for the body and the soul,” said Inez, moving forward with the book and the basket.
“Nah-ah, Mrs. Stannert. I got to be the one to hand these to her.” Miller took them from her, unlocked the door to the cage’s inner corridor, entered, unlocked Flo’s door, and put the book and basket on the table.
Flo didn’t even look at the offerings. “Jake, can I please have a moment alone with Mrs. Stannert?”
“Well now, you know an officer of the law has to be present and nearby,” said Miller.
Flo looked at him imploringly, tears spilling out of wide blue eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Suppose I could go check the group at the other end of the cage. See if they are done with their breakfast.”
“Thank you, Jake.” Flo sniffed loudly, applying a lace hanky to eyes and cheeks.
Miller stepped out of her cell, locked it, and then deliberately turned his back on the two women. He strolled down the inner corridor, seemingly oblivious to the shouts and ravings of the inmates in cells to either side. “Hey jailer! When’s the judge comin’ to town so’s I can get outta here?” “Jake! Goddammit, I’m sober now. Tell my wife to come on down and bail me out!”
Flo rose from the rocking chair and came up to the bars, gripping them with both hands. “Mrs. Stannert. I need your help.” Her low voice was desperate.
“Reverend Sands asked that I bring you a Bible, and if there’s anything the church can do—”
“To hell with the church!” She said this with such vehemence that Inez blinked.
Flo crumpled against the bars. Inez couldn’t believe that the woman before her was the same cheerful, slightly scatterbrained prostitute she’d met less than a year ago. Or the practical, business-like madam she’d recently struck a business deal with.
She whispered, as if it hurt to say the words, “Lizzie was killed last night.”
“You mean the girl that was found dead yesterday morning behind your house?”
Flo looked up, some of her spirit returning. “She wasn’t dead. I knew it! But no one would listen to me, not even Doc.” She bit her lip. Then, the words poured out fast and furious. “Molly and Danny were just here. Molly told me. They’d put Lizzie inside, just as I’d asked before The Hatchet hauled me away. The girls were taking turns keeping watch on her. And then, that bitch Zelda slit her throat and sent her to the other side for good.”
“What?”
“It’s true! Ask Molly. Or Doc! He was there! When they realized Lizzie still had breath in her, Molly sent Danny to fetch Doc and left Zelda alone with Lizzie. Stupid bitch!” she spit out.
Inez stepped back, shocked from the violence of Flo’s emotion.
“Molly should have stayed with Lizzie,” Flo continued. “She should have never, ever left Zelda alone with her. They didn’t get along. I don’t know why. Lizzie hated Zelda. Zelda didn’t like Lizzie, but she didn’t seem the kind to, to…Why would she do that after all I did for her?”
Inez was having trouble following Flo’s anguished outpourings.
“Flo, wait. Doc was there?”
Flo nodded. “When Molly unlocked the door, there was Lizzie, throat cut, Zelda with the knife. No one could go in or out. It had to be Zelda.” Her voice caught in a sob.
“Flo, I’m sorry. What a tragedy. I don’t know what to say.”
“Find her,” hissed Flo. “Find Zelda and make her pay. Before she gets away. She has a father here in town, an invalid. At least that’s what she told me when I agreed to take her on. With me more the fool. She just seemed like any girl, desperate, with no way to make money enough to live on. The law doesn’t care about Lizzie. She’s only a whore, throat slit by another whore. How…sordid. It’s not what the city fathers want Grant and the governor to think of Leadville.”
“Flo.” Inez tried to break through the firestorm of words, striving for a tone of sympathy and reason. “It’s very sad, I agree. Lizzie looked so young. But what good can come of trying to chase this down? Wouldn’t it be better to let Lizzie’s ugly end go unnoticed and simply give her a decent burial? I’m sure that Reverend Sands would deliver a eulogy, if you want him to. But think, think, if you give in to the desire to pursue this unreasoned fantasy of vengeance, think of what the unwanted publicity will do to your—”
Our
.
“—Business. Was Lizzie with you a long time? Even so, surely you can see this makes no sense.”
“No!
You
have to see.” Flo’s hand shot through a gap between bars and gripped Inez’s shoulder, drawing her close. Flo whispered savagely, “Lizzie wasn’t just some urchin I pulled off the street. Lizzie was my sister. My
little sister!
”