CHAPTER

23

After Rosemond bandaged my injuries and, following my directions to the letter, washed, set, and splinted Zeke’s arm, we sat at the kitchen table. Rosemond drank whisky, still grimacing slightly from the sound and feel of setting a compound fracture. I drank coffee in the hopes it would counteract the morphine. The small circle of lamplight from the lantern on the table faded into darkness where our hands held our glasses, shadowing our faces enough to give Rosemond the safety to confide in me.

“It started with Lyman. In the war,” Rosemond began. “He was part of the occupying Army. A quartermaster. He never saw a battle, as far as I know. Unsurprising, if you know him. My father, Edgar March, was a well-known Confederate sympathizer. When the Union came into town, he tried to change his allegiance, for survival as well as to spy for the Confederacy. He pinpointed Lyman as the easiest officer to con.” Rosemond laughed. “God, my father was an idiot. But he was smart enough to know the Army would never trust him, one of the biggest slave owners in the state. But a silly girl enamored with a dashing officer? No one would ever suspect her. Unfortunately, I wasn’t silly or enamored with officers.” She twirled her glass on the table. “Yes, even then my preferences tended the other way. It made it easier, to be honest. Lyman would have been easy to fall in love with. He can be devastatingly charming.” She drank her whisky and poured more. “My brother was killed in nothing more than a skirmish. Not only did my father lose his only son, but he was robbed of being able to claim his death had been in glorious battle. I could have told him Ned would die ignominiously. I would have made a better soldier. My father didn’t come out and tell me to become Lyman’s mistress, but he made it quite clear my virtue was a small price to pay to avenge my brother’s death by destroying the Yankees from the inside.”

“You were your father’s favorite, I gather.”

Rosemond laughed long and hard. “I fell somewhere above the slaves, but it was a near deal sometimes. I was too outspoken, too assertive. Didn’t know my place. Truthfully, Father knew I would have been a better heir to his fortune than Ned, and he hated me for it.” She drank. “I think I believed if I did what my father wanted, if I struck a blow for the Confederacy, he would take me into his business. God, I was naive.”

She took a long drink. “When Lyman took me to bed the first time, I expected to hate it. But Lyman is a skilled lover. There were times I thought I might come to enjoy being with a man. I was smart enough to fake it.”

“Does Lyman know about …?”

“My Sapphic tendencies?” She nodded. “I thought I was doing a rather good job of pleasing Lyman, but as I said, he was experienced. He saw right through me. One night, he came to my room—he’d set me up in a hotel when my parents kicked me out, as they had to do to keep up the ruse—with another woman. A prostitute. He said he wanted to watch. I refused because I knew I was supposed to, but I didn’t want to. The woman was beautiful. A beauty mark right here”—she pointed to the right corner of her mouth—“above her plump, red lips. She read me immediately but told Lyman I wasn’t interested and started to leave. I stopped her, of course.” She lifted her finger and wiggled it in the air. “Right there. That’s where Lyman had me. I ended up spying for the Union. Giving my father enough correct information that he didn’t suspect I was taking back everything he told me to Lyman. Lyman rewarded me with women.

“We went on like this for a while. Lyman taught me how to please a man, and Danielle taught me how to please a woman. Ménage à trois were my favorite. Occasionally Lyman would bring in a fourth. A man.” I held her gaze, though I felt my face flush with mortification.

Rosemond smiled, slightly, and I knew she was trying to shock me. “I had no idea what Lyman was grooming me for. I thought we were partners, you see. I thought after the war he might marry me. I would never love him, not like I loved women, but he knew about that side of me and didn’t care. Lyman was always looking for an angle, and he saw in me a present for fellow officers, or businessmen he wanted to con. I refused, at first. It only took a veiled threat of exposing my tendencies to make me spread my legs for the first client. After that, it became easier. And I was good at it.”

“Rosemond …”

“After the war, my family forgave me for being Lyman’s mistress. My father practically ordered it, after all. For a short period, I was a heroine, a true daughter of the South who gave her innocence for the cause. Since Lyman’s clients had unique tastes, my whoring wasn’t widely known. Those who did kept quiet. Self-preservation is the greatest motivator.”

“And the family business?”

Rosemond chuckled. “I’d almost convinced my father. Then they learned I’d been spying for the Union and Lyman’s whore.”

“Lyman told them?”

“He was long gone by this time. I betrayed myself. I came down with smallpox and in one of my deliriums told much more about my time with Lyman than my sister, who sat at my beside, wanted to hear. Especially as it related to her fiancé, who was one of my more regular clients. When I was well, my parents gave me a hundred dollars, told me to change my name and never return.”

“Saint Louis?”

Rosemond nodded. “I rented a room and got in touch with the Army officers I’d known in the war. Within three months, I’d bought a house and had four girls working for me. Within a year I was the highest-paid madam in town. About a year later I met Kindle.”

I reached for the whisky and poured some into my cooling coffee.

“Don’t bristle so,” Rosemond said. “I didn’t like Kindle any more than the other men I lay with. He was one of the nicer ones, so I taught him everything I knew. Naturally, I was an expert in teaching men how to please women. Feel free to thank me.”

“I will not.”

Rosemond laughed. “Laura, I’d much rather fuck you than Kindle. But don’t worry. I’m a one-woman woman.”

“Did you fuck him that night on the riverboat?”

She stared at me while twirling her whisky glass and didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

I stood, went to the sink, stared out the window, and remembered Salter and the threat he was to Rosemond’s safety and future happiness. Was I jealous enough of her past with Kindle to turn her in? To tell the world about her and Portia? I closed my eyes and searched deep within myself to find the source of my anger. It wasn’t Rosemond. Had it ever been Rosemond?

“The good Reverend isn’t returning with your plaster,” she said.

“No.”

I turned and leaned against the sink and opened my mouth to tell her about Salter when she spoke. “I’m sorry I told you Kindle was dead. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Because you still needed to make Portia jealous.”

“Partially. How long have you known?”

“Hankins told me the day I met him.”

Rosemond’s face relaxed. “You didn’t leave.”

“I needed to earn money, and I wanted to find a way to hurt you.”

She nodded slowly. “I would have done the same.”

“Kindle didn’t ask you to help me, did he?”

Rosemond shook her head. “I saw an opportunity to leave and took it.”

“Sherman commuted Kindle’s sentence. He’s free.”

Surprise, followed by satisfaction. “That’s good news.” Her smile drifted into a frown. “Then you’re leaving.” I detected a slight tremor in her voice.

I nodded. “The one-thirty train.”

“What about the cowboy?”

“I’ll send Hankins a note after I get on the train.”

Rosemond rose and placed her glass in the sink. I crossed my arms. She noted the movement and smiled slightly. “I don’t blame you for hating me. But I think you understand why I’ve done the things I’ve done.” I stared at her and didn’t answer. “Admit it, you like me a little bit.”

“I don’t hate you. Anymore.”

“Good enough.” Rosemond took my arm and pulled the sleeve up. She ran her hand over the burn scars she must have noticed bandaging my arm but didn’t mention at the time. “What happened?”

“I fell off my horse and into a prairie fire.”

She lifted my injured hand. “And this?”

“The first time the Indians broke it when they beat me.”

“Can it be fixed?”

“I don’t know.”

She lifted my hand to her lips and brushed them against my fingers. “I’m sorry.”

I tried to pull my hand away but she held fast. She looked into my eyes and smiled teasingly, testing me. Rosemond knew I’d watched her and Portia and hadn’t been disgusted, or rejected her after. “Are you afraid I’m going to try to seduce you?”

“No.”

“Good, because I’m not.”

“I’m almost insulted.”

“Oh, I’ve considered it. More than once. You would be easy to conquer.”

“I would not.”

Rosemond released my hand and laughed. “I almost always get what I want, Laura.”

“Now I am insulted.”

“Oh, it’s been a struggle. But I’d much rather have you as a friend than a lover. But if you ever think you want to dabble, let me know.”

“What would Portia say?”

Rosemond’s expression darkened. “It hardly matters now.”

I grasped Rosemond’s hand and held fast. “Portia loves you. I saw it in her expression as she left.”

Rosemond’s eyes met mine. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.” Her stern expression broke into a grin.

I grinned back. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”