This Calder Range (10 page)

It was getting harder to let Lorna leave his side. Benteen struggled with the longings that burned inside as he watched her walk away with her mother. The need to possess her totally—to bind her to his side—was gaining strength with each passing minute that brought the hour of their marriage closer.

“Your lady is a very lovely girl,” Ely Stanton remarked,
also watching Lorna with respectful admiration. He didn't notice the hurt that flickered in his wife's expression at his choice of words and the attention he was exhibiting to another woman.

Benteen pulled himself together and dragged his gaze away from Lorna's figure and the tantalizing sway of her long skirt. He took pride in Stanton's compliment of Lorna.

“Yes, she's very beautiful,” he agreed.

“But will she be when the sun and the wind get through with her?” Mary Stanton challenged briskly. “Forgive me, Mr. Calder, but I don't think you have considered how difficult it's going to be for someone with your bride's background. She's used to … soft things.”

“Lorna is strong. She can take it.” Benteen stiffened at her questioning his judgment and Lorna's character.

“Mary didn't mean anything by it,” Ely apologized for his wife and elbowed her to keep quiet. She closed her mouth tightly, irritated with men, who thought they were the only ones who knew anything.

“I understand, Ely,” Benteen murmured with a cool look. The man had his hands full keeping his wife in line, so he left it to Ely to straighten her out. Benteen wasn't sure if he liked the idea of Lorna spending very much time with Mary Stanton. It might turn out to be a mistake. “I've got to go look at that wagon. See ya in a couple of days,” Benteen said, and took his leave of the couple to inspect the wagon behind the livery stable.

In the millinery shop, Lorna stood in front of the mirror, turning her head this way and that to admire the lace veil and its cluster of white beads to conceal the combs securing it to her hair. She loved the contrast of the white lace on the sable brown of her hair. It made her feel absolutely stunning. She couldn't resist preening a little, even if it was being vain.

“Sue Ellen, isn't it just too beautiful for words,” she murmured excitedly to her friend. “I know I should
take it off before something happens to it, but …” She breathed in, expressing her reluctance with a negative shake of her head.

“Just imagine what it's going to look like with your wedding gown.” Sue Ellen couldn't help being a little envious of Lorna's natural beauty. While she, herself, wasn't exactly homely, she lacked the vividness of Lorna's personality. She always felt drab in comparison.

“I can hardly wait until Benteen sees me in my wedding outfit,” Lorna declared with a quick turn to her friend. “Just think, Sue Ellen. In a couple more days, I'll be Mrs. Chase Benteen Calder.”

“Aren't you … getting a little nervous?” Every time she thought about marrying a man like Benteen, Sue Ellen felt little shivers of alarm. He was so male. He wouldn't have been her choice at all. She would have picked someone quieter, more reserved. It was almost scandalous the way Benteen looked at Lorna sometimes. “I mean … about the wedding night … and all.”

Lorna glanced away to avoid meeting her friend's curiously intent look. A quick warmth burned her cheeks. “Yes … a little,” she admitted.

It was something she tried not to think about because it seemed improper to let her imagination dwell on it too much, as it tended to do. Nothing she had seen or learned in her young life had taught her to regard passion as a virtue. It was practically the complete opposite. To even let her thoughts stray in that direction was considered shocking.

“Do you suppose … I mean, I've heard … it's very painful for a woman.” Sue Ellen lowered her voice and glanced apprehensively toward the back room, where her mother and Mrs. Pearce were having tea. “It … sounds degrading to let a man do … those things to your body, doesn't it?”

“Maybe it won't be so bad.” Lorna felt hot and
trembly all over, embarrassed yet excited in a frightened kind of way.

“I guess you eventually get used to it,” Sue Ellen offered as consolation. “I've even heard that you can get to where you can pretend it isn't happening. You can think about something else instead, and block it out altogether.”

“Really,” Lorna murmured, and tried to laugh away her uncomfortable feeling. It came out forced. “I guess I'll be finding out for myself soon enough.”

“Oh, Lorna.” Sue Ellen's chin quivered when she gazed sad-eyed at her friend. “I wish you weren't going away. I don't want you to leave.”

“Don't start crying, Sue Ellen, or I will,” Lorna warned.

“But you're going so far away,” her friend protested. “Maybe we'll never see each other again.”

“Yes, we will,” she insisted with a determined tilt of her chin. “And we'll write each other—regularly.”

“If I were you, I'd be scared of living way up there in that Indian country.” Sue Ellen shook her head, silently marveling at Lorna's courage.

“Benteen will be with me,” Lorna asserted.

“But he'll be away sometimes, looking after the cattle. What if the Indians come while you're alone? They might capture you and take you prisoner.” Her alarm grew in proportion to her expanding imagination. “I've heard stories about what those savages do to white women. They take turns with her, making her commit all sorts of vile, unspeakable acts.”

“Sue Ellen, stop it,” Lorna demanded, struggling with her own growing fears.

“I'm sorry.” Her friend was immediately contrite. “It's just that I get so worried when I think about you all alone—with no doctors for hundreds of miles probably.” She realized that she was doing it again. “I won't say anything more. I promise.”

Lorna hoped she meant it. She already had enough
misgivings about leaving her home, her parents, her friends, and the only kind of life she'd ever known.

The shop bell above the door signaled the entrance of three customers. Lorna's glance was absently drawn to the sound, and immediately she recognized the heavily rouged women with their bright-colored gowns. Her reaction was an instant withdrawal of obvious interest. A respectable female didn't acknowledge the presence of “scarlet ladies of the night.” They dressed to draw attention to themselves—“attract business” was the way they put it. Lorna was aware they frequented the millinery store for the latest creations in outrageous hats and bonnets. In the past, Sue Ellen had whispered many of the conversations she'd overheard, censoring the foul language and guessing at the definition of terms neither she nor Lorna had ever heard before.

“I'd better go get Mother,” Sue Ellen whispered, too reticent to wait on them herself. “You can come in the back room, if you want, and wait until they're gone.”

“No, I'll be fine.” Lorna turned back to the mirror and lifted touching fingers on the lace veil.

She was slightly amused by her friend. Sue Ellen acted as if she would be contaminated by the presence of the three sporting ladies in the same room with her. Although Lorna didn't admit it, she was a tiny bit curious about these women who were shunned by respectable members of the community. As long as she ignored them, she saw nothing wrong with remaining where she was.

Reflected in the mirror, she saw a henna-haired woman waylay Sue Ellen before she could escape into the back room. “Excuse me, miss. I've stopped to see if the hat I ordered has arrived yet.” Her voice had a cultured sound to it.

Sue Ellen turned red all the way to the roots of her hair. “I'll get my mother.” She backed hurriedly away from the woman.

Lorna heard the titter of laughter from the other two when Sue Ellen disappeared in a red-faced panic. “Lordie, Pearl,” one declared. “You embarrassed the lady. I'll bet her knockers turned red.”

“She was embarrassed by her own imagination,” retorted the henna-haired woman named Pearl.

Just for a second Lorna wondered if that was true. Sometimes Sue Ellen seemed very preoccupied with the intimacies between a man and a woman. She didn't have to dwell on the thought, distracted by a glimpse of a black-haired prostitute who had wandered over to look at some hats displayed near Lorna.

“Pearl. Jenny. Come look at this,” she called to the other two.

With all three gathering near her, Lorna concentrated on her reflection in the mirror. She didn't want to appear to be taking any notice of them.

But the red-haired Pearl didn't find it necessary to ignore Lorna. “That is a beautiful veil,” she declared, and came over for a closer look.

“Thank you.” Lorna's response was coolly polite and nothing more.

“You must be getting married,” Pearl guessed as she was joined by her two compatriots.

“Yes, I am,” Lorna admitted, and caught a hint of envy in the woman's look. She experienced a small twinge of compassion because no decent man would ever marry women of their profession.

“You'll make a lovely bride,” she declared, and turned to her friends. “Won't she, girls?”

“Indeed,” agreed the black-haired girl.

The third, named Jenny, didn't look any older than Lorna, even with the rouge and painted mouth. “Who's the lucky man? Maybe we know him,” she suggested with an arching smile.

Lorna almost didn't tell them, but she changed her mind. “Benteen Calder.” Part of her said she shouldn't be talking to these women at all.

“Benteen Calder,” the black-haired girl repeated with a quick glance at Pearl. “I think I have seen him around.”

Lorna stiffened, but the red-haired Pearl quickly explained the blurted comment. “Don't worry about it, honey. Dixie just means that she's seen him in one of the saloons, having a beer. Girls like us don't forget when we meet a man like Benteen Calder.”

It sounded like a compliment. Despite Pearl's assurance that she had no cause for concern, Lorna couldn't help wondering if they didn't
know
Benteen better than she did.

“Let me give you some advice, honey,” Pearl said with a melancholy smile. “If you don't want your man slippin' away to see our kind on the sly, you'd better be wilder in bed than he is.”

Such talk first drained the color from her face, then sent it flooding back. Lorna wanted to shut her ears, but she couldn't. Somewhere she lost her voice, too.

“I've learned a lot about men over the years.” The woman made it sound like a long time, yet she didn't look any older than her mid-twenties. “They may want a lady on their arm, but they want a whore in bed. I know that shocks you, but, honey, there's a helluva lot of truth in what I'm sayin'. If wives took that advice, we wouldn't have so many married men for customers.”

“Miss Rogers!”
The shocked voice of Liza Mae Brown, Sue Ellen's mother, brought a quick end to the conversation. What was worse, Lorna realized the shopkeeper as well as her mother had overheard the last bit of Pearl Rogers' advice.

But the bold woman wasn't intimidated by the outraged look. “Don't waste your breath lecturing to me, Mrs. Brown.” She turned away from Lorna, completely unabashed. “I wasn't corrupting the child. In fact, I might have saved her a lot of heartache in the future.” Her attitude became strictly business. “What about the hat I ordered?”

“It hasn't arrived as yet,” Mrs. Brown began.

“Then we'll come back in a few days,” Pearl replied, and with her two companions, made a dignified exit from the shop.

“Sue Ellen, why did you leave Lorna here by herself?” Mrs. Brown rebuked her daughter, and quickly apologized to Mrs. Pearce. “I am sorry this happened, Clara. I feel dreadful that Lorna was exposed to such indecent talk. I probably shouldn't even allow those women in my shop, but unfortunately I can't afford to refuse their business.”

“It wasn't your fault, Liza.” Her mother magnanimously removed all blame from the woman. “I know my daughter well enough to be reassured that she wouldn't pay any attention to what was said. They were only trying to justify their loose morals by putting the blame on respectable women.”

“How true,” Mrs. Brown agreed fully.

“Let's put the veil away, Lorna.” Her mother came over to help her remove it. “We still have to go by the church.”

The conversation was skillfully turned to other subjects. Lorna thought the matter was going to be dropped, but her mother brought it up again after they had left the shop.

“I know you have never had any contact before with that element of our society,” she began. “Perhaps it's just as well that this happened. Instead of always turning a blind eye, we should take a stand against that element and convince the town fathers they must be abolished. It will be a problem wherever you may live, so it's best that you see it now.”

“Yes, Mother.” But Lorna's mind was still lingering on that shocking advice she'd been given. “What kind of … men seek their company? It wouldn't be someone like … Daddy or Benteen?”

“Of course not.” The answer was quick, followed by an attempted qualification. “That isn't to say that men don't sometimes sow wild oats before they settle down with a wife and a family. And there could be circumstances
that would prompt a man to seek out that kind of woman to supply his needs.”

“What kind of circumstances?” Lorna asked.

“If a wife isn't capable of occupying the marriage bed, because of illness or”—her mother hesitated—“when it wouldn't be wise for her to become in the family way. A man has to understand that there comes a time when a woman might not want any more children.”

“Then you and Daddy …” Lorna didn't finish the thought. It seemed too much an invasion into her parents' private relationship.

“That's right,” her mother admitted. “And your father understands it's the only way a woman can prevent such things.”