Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,5

save women that society rejected made everything worthwhile.

A good reputation wasn’t so much, anyway. It could mask all manner of deplorable behavior.

Preston Van Slyck was a perfect example of that. Here was a man who had the smile to charm. As the banker’s son he was a social catch, every woman’s dream. Leanna had good reason to know that underneath it all he was not.

Massie Monroe met her at the front door. Young Massie’s story was a common one, as far as Leanna had been able to tell. She’d run away from home with a man her parents had disapproved of. When he’d left her high and dry she was too ashamed to go home and did what she could to keep from starving.

It was Leanna’s personal goal to see that Massie did go home. It might take some time for her to gain the self-respect to do it, but with the help of Hearts for Harlots, she would.

“There’s a load of goods just been delivered from the freight yard,” Massie declared. Blond curls framed her face. She seemed the proper angel with her fair coloring and her soft voice. “There’s a fellow out back who wants you to sign for it.”

“This place is beginning to shine, ladies. At this rate we’ll be open for business next week,” Leanna said.

Out on the back porch two wagonloads of goods were being unloaded. She signed for them and watched while lamps, tables, chairs and chandeliers were carried past her and into her new saloon.

It was a lucky thing she had decided to dress like a man today. With all the heavy work, skirts would only get in the way. Years ago, on the 4C, she had often worn pants. Tagging along with Chance, or riding alone on the open range, it made sense. She had always respected her mother’s wishes and never worn menswear to town, but her mother was gone and so was her reputation. There was nothing really to be lost by dressing sensibly.

Massie stepped onto the back porch and exclaimed over an exquisite red carpet being carried by two men. She followed them inside, admonishing them to have a care with it.

The young man waiting to take the papers from her hand stared after Massie.

“When are you opening?” he asked, not able to take his gaze off the door Massie had closed behind her. “I’d like to be the first for that one. I’ll pay real good.”

“You are welcome here anytime, but if you want those kinds of services—” Leanna pointed across the railroad tracks that ran a couple hundred yards behind her building “—I’m sure you know where to go. Pearl’s or Monty’s will take care of you. If you want a respectable game of cards, dealt by respectable women, you come back next week.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here.” He shrugged his shoulders, took the signed papers and gave one more longing glance at the back door.

So far there was every indication that Hearts for Harlots would send Massie home to her parents not only respectable but married.

Sunset rolled in with a clap of thunder. Another wagonload of crates had been delivered that afternoon, half of which remained unopened on the back porch.

Leanna’s back ached; her hands had grown red and blistered. Sweet heaven, if her legs weren’t as weak as a newborn colt’s.

Inky clouds toward the west snuffed out the last rays of light. She lit a lantern beside the back door, then plunked down on the stoop with a thud.

Crickets chirruped in the lilacs growing beside the back wall of the building, fast and loud because of the heat. A humid wind whistling in ahead of the storm brushed her face and throat. She lifted a tangled hank of hair off her neck to feel the air whisper over her skin.

With darkness falling, the brothels and saloons across the railroad tracks came to life. Lanterns blinked on and pianos tuned up. Women’s voices, sometimes laughing, sometimes cursing, carried over on the breeze.

How many of them, she wondered, hated their lives? Mentally, Leanna designed the broadsheets she intended to pass about in the red-light district advertising Hearts for Harlots. Leanna’s Place would be a haven, an escape for any woman who wanted it.

Her fledglings—Lucinda, Cassie and Massie—had gone to spend the night at the house Leanna had rented in the proper part of town, just until their own rooms above the saloon would be ready to live in.

Dorothy Wilmont had been at the house all day, caring