Chapter Text
Christen hurries home through the dark night, drawing her shawl tighter around her mostly bare shoulders. It’s already very late and she’d promised Mal a bedtime story if the young girl ate her vegetables without complaint. Christen hates to break any promise, but she’s particularly determined to keep her word to Mal. Not only does the child hold a prominent place in her heart, Mal also has so little consistency in her life. Christen refuses to add to the general upheaval by going back on her word.
Ducking into the back door of the ‘saloon’, Christen hurries through the kitchen. She dodges skillfully around the women who are hard at work despite it being past midnight. Over the sounds of cooking, she can hear the rowdy noise of the customers and the tinkling of the piano from up front. Christen ignores it, used to the background cacophony. She’s already three steps up the back stairs when a voice from below stops her.
“Chris? Is that you?”
Christen, who had stiffened initially at being called, relaxes as she recognizes the voice. It’s Glennon, her boss, protector, and good friend. Looking longingly at the upstairs, Christen never the less turns around to go see what the older woman wants.
She finds Glennon at the base of the stairs. The smaller blonde is dressed luxuriously, as is befitting her role. She eyes Christen from head to toe assessing. Christen swallows, knowing that Glennon’s sharp eyes will notice the tear in the low-cut bodice of her dress and the fresh bruising around her left eye.
Glennon takes her by the hand, pulling her back into the kitchen. She motions for Christen to sit at the table and disappears briefly. She returns with clean cloths and a healing tincture. Leaning down, Glennon carefully raises Christens face to the light from the stove and starts to clean the heavy makeup from it. Her gentle care reveals a collection of bruises, both old and new, and a fresh cut through Christen’s eyebrow.
Glennon swears in an entirely ungentlewomanly manor, and dabs at the cut. She applies some of the stinging tincture before saying, “he hurt you again then.”
It’s not really a question and Christen doesn’t answer it. Both her and Glennon are very aware of her situation, and how unfavorable it is.
Sighing softly, Glennon says, “I snuck away and put Mal to bed. She wouldn’t go to sleep for the longest time, insisted on a story.”
Before Christen can apologize, Glennon is waving her off.
“You know I care for that child almost as much as you do. She has few enough joys in this world, I can certainly spare the time to read her a bedtime story now and then. She did mention I’m not as good of a story teller as you though.”
Glennon’s pretend glower has Christen breaking into a true smile for probably the first time tonight.
“Where else are you hurt?” Glennon’s question returns Christen to the present and sours her mood again. She shakes her head, not answering. She’s not to badly injured. Not this time at least.
Glennon frowns at her for a moment. Then says, “this can’t go on for much longer. If not for yourself, think of Mal.”
Provoked to temper, Christen replies sharply, “I do think of Mal, constantly. If there was anything I could do to improve her situation I would, but you know it’s impossible. Maybe once she starts attending school it will get easier.”
Not responding right away, Glennon bustles off to put the rags in with the laundry and replace the bottle of liniment she’d used to doctor Christen’s face. When she returns, she sits across from the younger woman and clasps their hands together.
“Chris, Mal’s not going to go to school.”
Stricken, Christen asks, “why ever not?”
“You know why.”
Laughing without humor, Christen says, “because the gentle people of this town don’t find it proper? Because heaven forbid their perfect little princes and princesses have to go to school with someone who’s skin isn’t the same color as theirs? Or because Mal’s mother…”
Christen trails off. As angry as she is, she refuses to speak ill of the dead. Besides, this most recent injustice can hardly be blamed on the deceased woman. She’d been forced into the same horrible life as Christen and countless other women. The world was a harsh place after all.
Hesitantly, Christen asks, “maybe if I speak to the mayor about Mal, he’ll intervene on her behalf?”
Even as she says it, she knows it’s a foolish thing to consider.
Laughing darkly, Glennon says, “Chris you’re already sharing his bed and taking his abuse so he’ll look the other way from my fine establishment. What more can you afford to give him? Besides, I would hesitate before drawing his attention to Mal. I’ve heard whispers about his inclinations. You know the ones I mean."
Instantly, Christen feels sick. She knows very well. The mayor is not a good man. On top of being corrupt, generally vile and abusive, it’s a known fact that he has a taste for the ‘exotic’. It’s made Christen’s job both easier and much, much harder.
Easier because the mayor is very willing to ignore Glennon’s brothel in exchange for the use of Christen’s body once a fortnight. Harder because of the disgusting things he says while he fucks her. Particularly about her dark skin and textured hair. She put’s up with it because she has little choice. If she doesn’t, Christen, Glennon, and all the other whores employed at the brothel will be run out of the town. Or worse.
Christen also understands what else Glennon is hinting at. The mayor, it’s said, likes his women young. The younger the better. Christen is accustom to pretending to be the innocent for him to deflower, so she knows that the rumors are true to an extent. She shudders to think that his proclivities might extend to Mal, still only a child of six.
Wanting nothing more then to cry, Christen still resists the urge. Crying won’t help her any and it will only make her cut and bruises sting.
Hopelessly, Christen asks, “well then what do you suggest? I’ll do anything for Mal. Anything at all to help her make her way in the world. I don’t want her to grow up to this horrid life.”
Belatedly, Christen wonders if her words will offend Glennon. The life she’s desperate for Mal to avoid is one that Glennon is intimately familiar with of course. Before she had become wealthy and influential enough to become the owner and Madam of this brothel, the older woman spent many years toiling as a working girl.
Christen has always admired Glennon for surviving years of the work and for managing to advance herself out of it. Christen herself has only been in the profession for a little over two years and she already feels like it’s eroding her soul.
Luckily it seems like Glennon is thoughtful more than offended. The faint wrinkles she artfully disguises with face paints, are made more prominent as she ponders.
Eventually, Glennon says, “come with me. There are too many ears about down here.”
Christen follows her boss up the back stairs and into Glennon’s private room. It’s opulently decorated. Glennon may not do common work anymore but she will still take particularly wealthy or influential men to her bed, for the right price. Her quarters reflect a level of wealth that will appeal to such well-to-do paramours.
Glennon and Christen take positions at the small seating arrangement on the edge of the room. Glennon eyes the younger woman closely for a long moment. Christen tries her hardest not to fidget under the intense stare.
Eventually, Glennon says, “I’ve had a letter from a friend recently. A soldier who’s been off fighting in Mexico.”
Christen is not sure what response this non sequitur warrants so she holds her tongue.
“Sergeant Heath, that’s my friend, has decided to leave the army. I believe with the intent of starting a new life out West. He…” here again, Glennon pauses, “he has expressed an interest in marriage.”
“Am I to wish you joy? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Christen doesn’t understand what this has to do with Mal but she’s willing to set that problem aside and congratulate her only close friend on impending nuptials. Even if she’d had no notion of Glennon having any sort of attachment.
“Heavens no. Sergeant Heath is… not right for me. For one, the age gap would probably be frowned upon. The Sergeant is some 15 years my junior. For another, I’d be unwilling to give up my current station, as unsavory as some may find it, to be the wife of an ex-soldier turned pioneer. You however…” Glennon trails off and looks at Christen with intent.
“Me? What about me?” Christen has a twisting feeling in her gut. She thinks she knows where Glennon is going.
“Don’t play the fool girl, you’re far to intelligent for that and we both know it. I mean that you could marry Sergeant Heath.”
Christen leaps to her feet, pacing the room with long unladylike strides.
“I could not. I will not. I only ended up in this life in the first place because I had no interest in a husband. Certainly not a husband for which I hold no affection.” Her voice is sharp and higher pitched than normal.
“Christen, will you not at least consider it? You’re not getting any younger and I worry for you. How many more years can you honestly continue in this life? I will not lose so dear a friend as you if I can help it.”
“Why this man? If you would see me married, I could probably convince some naïve boy to take me despite the fact that I’m a whore. For all that you’ve decided I’m halfway in the grave already, I think I’m still beautiful enough for that.”
“Lord, must I curry to your vanity? You know that’s not my meaning. You are by far the most beautiful woman west of the Mississippi, heavens know you make me enough money to prove that. I meant only that you’ve looked so tired recently. There is a darkness in your eyes I do not like. I’ve seen too many women take their life when they lose themselves too much. Or be killed by their customers,” Glennon looks pointedly at the bruising on Christens face.
Christen goes to make some protest, even a halfhearted one, but is cut off.
“No listen to me. Sergeant Heath is… different. We’ve not seen each other in some years but I still consider him a close friend. One I would trust implicitly. Moreover, the Sergeant is unlikely to impose himself on you unduly. And think of Mal! You said you would do anything for her but now you won’t even consider this?”
“What of Mal? How would me abandoning her to run off with some soldier in any way give her a better life?” Christen is angry now. Glennon should know better than to suggest this foolishness.
“Sergeant Heath likes children,” seeing Christen’s stricken expression Glennon hurries to correct the misassumption. “NOT like that.”
In a more measured voice, Glennon says, “Tobin has always been fond of children. I believe that parenthood has always appealed. I think Tobin would be willing to give both of you his name.”
“What? He would marry a whore? And let the bastard daughter of a dead whore call him father? And both of us mixed? I do not believe it. What man would?”
Glennon seems to find her statement amusing. She smiles rather than frowns at Christen’s harsh words.
“Sergeant Heath is a rather… unusual man. With an unusual past. But a good person! I cannot stress that fact enough. Would you not at least entertain the idea? Let me write Sergeant Heath and mention that I might have found a bride? Tobin is coming to Independence regaurdless to join a wagon train going west. You could meet and judge for yourself if you’d fancy taking a soldier for a husband.”
Christen bites her lip hard. She trusts Glennon, the woman had saved her from certain death or destitution. Had given her shelter, and work, and family. But is she really going to consider wedding an unknown man? Essentially becoming some soldier’s property? Not to mention following her new husband far away from the life she’s built in Independence?
Still, a secret part of her can’t help but dream. It’s foolish, but every girl in this line of work has imagined that a kind man will fall in love with them and save them. Marry them and give them a respectable life. Christen has not been immune to such fantasies, even though she’s never particularly wanted a husband.
She wants to tell Glennon no. She wants to insist that her life is fine. Not the one her birth family would have hoped for but still, she’s providing for herself. And she’s good at what she does. She takes pride in her work, no matter how the profession is viewed by the general populace.
But Mal…
Right now, Mal is young enough that she’s only peripherally aware of how the townspeople revile her. Christen isn’t even entirely sure that the young girl understands her background. That innocence won’t last much longer. Soon, Mal will realize that there are barriers to her happiness on all sides and very few avenues of opportunity. If Christen can prevent that, or mitigate it…
Locking eyes with Glennon, Christen demands, “he’s a good man? He won’t beat Mal? Or starve her? Or make her feel worthless?”
Glennon meets Christen’s fierce gaze evenly. “A good person, I swear it.”
With that oath given, all of the fight drains out of Christen’s body.
“Fine then. Write this friend of yours and tell him that I’ll meet him when he’s in town. No promises about there being a wedding though.”
Going to the door Christen pauses with her hand on the knob, “don’t tell Mal about any of this? I don’t want to get her hopes up about something that’s probably unlikely to occur. A respectable man marrying me, offering to be her father and protector? It’ll fill her head with unreasonable expectations.”
That said, Christen slips quietly out of the room.
Glennon sits for a long while, listening to the faint music from downstairs and thinking. When Tobin’s letter had arrived, Glennon had considered briefly accepting the tentative offer for herself. She thought that highly of Tobin. Still, she isn’t a spring chicken anymore she dislikes the idea of traipsing off to parts unknown. Not to mention she has responsibilities here to her girls.
Once she’d curved her own foolishness, Glennon had immediately thought of Christen.
The beautiful woman deserved a better life then that of a prostitute. Not that any woman deserved being trapped in this life! But Christen was special, both in general and to Glennon. Her soul was still so gentle and caring, despite what horrors she’d experienced.
Even now, Christen had insisted on reassurances for Mal’s sake but not her own. She’d wanted to make sure that Tobin wouldn’t abuse Mal but not asked a single question about her own welfare. Darkly, Glennon thinks it’s probably because the young woman is so used to taking abuse that she’s grown inured to it. Christen likely expects that whoever she married would beat or force her, or both.
Glennon wishes briefly that there was something she could tell Christen to reassure her. But besides revealing secrets that weren’t hers to share, Glennon’s pretty sure nothing she can say will really sway Christen.
The fact that Christen is so ready to endure hardships for Mal’s sake is what gives Glennon hope that this crazy idea of hers will work. Maybe, just maybe, Christen’s tender heart will be willing to accept a rather… unusual husband. Tobin is more then worthy of a loving partner, regaurdless of what the ex-soldier might think.
If nothing else, between Tobin and Christen, Mal will have a better life.
Glennon is sure that, no matter what ends up transpiring between the adults, they will put Mal’s welfare first. Christen is already Mal’s mother in all but blood. And Tobin? Well Glennon is confident the former army officer will be unable to resist the child’s charms.
Snorting a laugh, Glennon considers that it’s unlikely Tobin will be able to resist Christen’s more grown up charms either. The bashful young soldier won’t know what hit them.
Fully decided, Glennon puts pen to paper and starts composing a letter.
Now the trick will be getting Tobin to trust an unknown woman enough to marry her.