Chapter Ten

It was, first and foremost, a business deal. Miss Bea told Alex the girls’ time was money and at first expected her to pay for the time they would have to pose.

“You can’t paint ’em while they’re workin’. No man is gonna want that, you understand. So what’re you gonna pay me for their time, then?”

“I’m going to pay you in a painting which I shall do—”

“Hell, lady, I don’t want no painting. What in tarnation am I gonna do with a painting?”

“A painting of you,” Alex went on regardless. “A nude for above the bar. My paintings sell for a great deal of money in New York and I shall take your painting to New York with me in October—”

“I thought you jus’ said it was fer above the bar?”

“And you will be famous. I shall take it and bring it back. It will be just for show. You will be famous,” she repeated.

Bea stared up at her from behind a great desk in her office. She never offered Alex a chair. Indeed, there wasn’t one—only a huge brass bed at the other side of the room, disheveled now but with lacey pillows thrown about the crumpled sheets. Alex glanced at it, then back to Bea.

“My paintings sell for over a hundred dollars apiece,” she told her. This was true, because as she had learned, before Jonathon took his commission, they had sold for two hundred dollars each, most of them. “The one I plan to do of you, being large enough to be seen above the bar, would be worth far more. How much do your girls make an hour?”

Bea looked at her, deliberating. “For a mere wisp of a girl you sure know how to talk your way out of a box.” She waited a moment before going on. “All right then. You do the painting of me first, then you can choose two girls for two more paintings. You can take the damn nude to New York and make me famous but I want it back here, you understand?”

“Indeed.”

“And you don’t go botherin’ the girls when they got better things to do, you know what I mean?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Most of all, you don’t go namin’ names or tellin’ tales when you get outa here. Men don’t like their wives a-knowin’ where they been, you understand? If I see a fall off in business, out ya go.”

“It’s round-up. There won’t be a fall-off in business. It’s your slow season,” Alex stated, as if she knew what she was talking about.

“Been doin’ your homework, ain’t ya?” Miss Bea showed her to the door. “Come to think of it, I think it would be best if you was to come up these back steps from the alley. Men see y’all out front, they might get the wrong idea!”

****

Annie was completely horrified of course but Alex really liked Bea, liked her company, her raw humor, her earthiness and, more to the point, loved painting her. The woman was completely immodest, brazen and bawdy, a complete novelty to Alex who came from a world where her maidservant Rose, who dressed her and looked after her in every conceivable way, would close her eyes to hold open a towel as Alex stepped from her bath.

“Bea, you can’t keep moving. Every time you move I have to readjust the damn cloth, or your breasts and your you-know-what start showing.”

“I thought that was the durn reason to be nude—that folk wanted to see them parts. What’s the durn purpose of coverin’ ’em up? I ain’t here to be modest, Lady A.”

“That much I have certainly ascertained,” replied Alex getting back to her oils. “But the cover is virtually transparent and the beauty is in your shape and form, not in every damn hair in your…your private area.”

Bea roared. “My private area? My goodness but we are pretty durn delicate, ain’t we?” She sized up Alex while the girl continued to paint. “You ever been with a man, sweetheart?”

“Of course I’ve been with a man. I live on a bloody ranch, don’t I?”

“No, I mean, been with a man. You know, had him make love to you ’n’ all.”

“Certainly not,” said Alex primly, still concentrating on what she was doing. “Why ever would I want to do that?”

“I suppose you all are intendin’ to keep yerself for marriage, huh?”

“Keep myself? I have no intention of marrying at all.” Alex realized here, at least, was one person who had not heard the gossip of her recent past.

“You all gonna be a spinster? I don’t think so, not by the look of ya.” She bolted upright all of a sudden. “Wait a minute now. What about you—”

“Bea! You’ve moved again! What did I tell you?” She came over to push Bea back into position and adjust the cover.

“Heck, ain’t Jesse Makepeace been courtin’ you?”

Alex stood stock still. She looked at Bea as if she’d been shot, blinked, then went back to her easel where the huge canvas at least partially hid her from view. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Jesse—”

“Ha! The hell you don’t! If you don’t know it, there’re sure some Faringdon boys who know it.” She played with the corner of the cover for a moment. “May says he ain’t been in for quite some time now.” She laid back thinking, but Alex was busy mixing paints. “Says he used to be a dang good lover, too, when he came in, but you know, when they get sweet on someone...”

“I really don’t wish to hear about this,” Alex retorted, keeping herself busy. Suddenly she was forced to think about Jesse with another woman, Jesse whoring, Jesse doing what men did. The incident the day of the circus with the soiled dove had never bothered her; it had been funny if anything, yet hearing it now so plainly put by Bea, she was stunned. Confused, she put her brush down for a moment, then took it back up. One standard for men, another for women, she thought to herself. Fine, let a man get experience, but I won’t be a virginal spinster, that’s for sure. “In any case,” she added at long last, “there is nothing at all between me and Jesse Makepeace. In fact, if the truth be known, we are not even on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Oh, hon, a lovers’ quarrel? Hell, I can tell you how to fix that one up right quick.”

“Really, Bea. Can we change the subject, please?”

“Well, you listen to me, you’re gonna have to do it one day cause you sure as heck don’t wanna go dyin’ no virgin, and when you do, you wanna be well prepared. Do you know what to expect?”

“My brother has given me some information on the matter, yes.” Alex kept painting.

“Your brother? Your brother! Oh, for Pete’s sake, Lady A. What in hell does your brother know ’bout it ’ceptin’ how to push it in. I’m talkin’ ’bout bein’ on the receivin’ end, darlin’.” There was quiet for a while as she twisted the cover through ringed fingers and lay back again. “You know how to kiss?”

****

“Faringdon Ranch,

Colorado, USA!

3 June 1886

Darling David,

I was so glad to hear you have a new love and that things are proceeding well in that area, but of course not so happy to hear you might now not be coming over this summer. That truly would be a huge disappointment. I understand back East they have those new telephones where you can actually talk to someone a distance from you, via wires and things. Wouldn’t that be lovely to be able to pick up this telephone and speak to you whenever I liked, although I suppose it will never be able to go from America to England because of the sea. Never mind—it was just an idea.

Oh, David please come visit. I need a bit of “bucking up.” I think that is the expression. Have had a terrific row with Jesse—my best friend amongst the punchers, whom I am sure you remember from your visit in ’78—so we are now not on speaking terms. I guess it will be a long, hard day until we are. And Oliver is completely off in a world of his own, things bloody awful on the ranch front—don’t tell Papa though. I’m sure you won’t anyway, but please be sure not to slip as I fear he will have Uncle O. dismissed and then I would have to leave too, I suppose. By the way, sorry to hear about Papa’s illness, though Lord only knows why I should be sorry, but there we are.

Row with Jesse was due to something very awful I did, being spoilt young lady I am, and something equally awful he said to me. I actually pulled his gun and threatened two of the men with it, but the point is, I did apologise to them both later and that was accepted, but it seems Mr. Makepeace wanted to thrash me and you can imagine how that went down with yours truly. Ah, well…

The painting is going remarkably well. I have just about completed the chef d’oeuvre—a huge nude of the local madam for above her saloon bar. These have been the most informative sittings of my life. David, those cozy little chats you and I had were not particularly informative really, now were they? Surely you could have given me a bit more information. With Miss Bea, as she is called, although I was a captive audience I can truly say I was an attentive student. In any event, Miss Bea has given me a lesson every woman should have and even if I never do marry, I am now a mine of information. Do you really stick your tongue in someone’s mouth when you kiss? I think I have to try to sort out the whore-only items on my list from the real lovers’ or “fun” in bed things. Miss Bea, by the way, assures me it is fun in bed, but then she would think that, wouldn’t she?

David, I am so happy here I can’t tell you. Annie and Tom and the children continue to be my surrogate family and they are such wonderful people (though you will have guessed I cannot discuss the above with Annie—can’t really imagine Annie and Tom in bed at all, for goodness sake) I don’t know where I would be without them. Poor Tom is looking somewhat harried and worried these days. I’m sure he thinks Oliver a fool and if the ranch pulls through it will certainly be thanks to Tom. As for the men, I love them all (except maybe Jesse, who is being so mean), truly I do. Do you know how they risk their lives every single moment of every day? Riding broncs or outlaws after winter lay-offs, going into the herd to rope or cut, dragging calves to the branding fire. Then there’s trailing cattle to the rail head, or riding to circle in the herd, or crossing the river, or working out in a lightning storm or blizzard or, most especially, riding out a stampede. Plus there’s danger every time they have to dispute a cut or brand markings with a Rep, every time they sit down to a game of cards—I suppose if they all got rid of their guns some of this might not be so dangerous, but there you go, they need the damned things for the snakes and bears and wolves at least (and aren’t those also threats to their life and limb?) and so life is very dangerous here, Darling. It’s so exciting!

Your loving sister,

Alex xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

****

Pulling up the wagon, Alex watched the men from a distance. Now in the midst of spring roundup and branding, there was an air of a social occasion as the Reps from other ranches came by to cut their stray cows and calves from the herd. While the punchers were busy with little spare time, Tom had asked her to bring back supplies from town and deliver them to the campsite at Washburn’s Crossing. It had been a long drive and Ranger was tied to the back of the wagon, not liking it at all.

The smell of the burning cowhide was fierce and Alex wondered how the men stood that work all day, yet they never seemed to mind. It fascinated her how they worked together, one man roping the head, another the legs, then a third tailin’ down’ the calf for a fourth to brand. Alex found this all wonderful; to her, these men were gods with their wide brimmed hats and bandanas, their high-heeled boots with the jingling spurs she loved to hear on the wooden walkways around the headquarters, and their rawhide leggings over the striped or checked pants they favored wearing. With none of the pretenses or condescension that characterized the men she had heretofore encountered, she thought of them as one huge family, a family she had never known. And she wanted to be like them—just like them. Strong. Self-reliant. Free.

The men had stopped for lunch when Alex got there, and watched her as she jumped down to get Ranger untied from the back of the wagon and hobbled, off on his own.

“Four boxes of Sapolio, twenty cans of Eagle Brand,” counted off the cook, “ten sacks of Arbuckles’. I asked Boss for a dozen. What happened?”

“Don’t look at me, Cookie,” answered Alex as she came back from hobbling the horse. “Tom gave me the list. If the punchers didn’t drink so much coffee…”

“We have to drink coffee, Lady Lex,” said Terry passing her with a plate of food in hand. “If’n we didn’t, we’d all be fallin’ asleep in the saddle. Now you wouldn’t want that, would ya?”

Alex looked across to Ranger where one of the Reps she didn’t know was looking him over. “I should leave him, if I were you,” she called. “He’s not in a very good mood today.”

“One helluva cayuse, sonny,” answered the man. He came back to the wagon, grabbed a plate and went over to sit with Cal and a group of the others.

Terry snickered.

“Who you calling sonny, Mister?” Alex stood by Cal, hands on hips. The Faringdon outfit all burst out laughing.

“Well, I never,” said the Rep, completely taken aback. “It’s a-a goshdurn woman!”

Alex shrugged and smiled.

“Hey, wanna try one of these?” Cal held out his fork and tin plate with some unrecognizable food on it.

“What is it?” Alex peered down at the mess.

“Prairie oysters,” he said.

“Prairie oysters? I don’t like oysters of any kind,” she replied scrunching her nose.

“Builds ya up. Good fer you. It’ll put hair on yer chest.”

“Such as it is,” Reb mumbled.

“Hey!” Cal gave him a hard kick with his boot.

“Sorry, Lady Lex.” Reb looked up at her with a half-smile on his face. “I don’t suppose you kin help it none, bein’ half-formed an’ all.”

“Hey!” Cal gave him another kick. “You know better’n to talk like that.”

“Oh, hell, it’s just fun.”

Jesse turned sharply from his place further along, almost joining Cal in reprimanding Reb. For a split second his eyes met Alex’s as she looked away and he turned back to the men near him. Anger colored his face, but was it anger at Reb, anger at her, or anger at himself for threatening her? Alex wondered if he would ever get past those feelings and find the words to apologize to her.

“She seems to be big enough to be wearin’ that six-shooter,” one of the new men noted. “You know how to use that thing, sweetheart?”

Cal laughed and looked up at Alex. “You all call her sweetheart one more time, you may find out. Then it’ll be your prairie oysters we all are eatin’.”

Alex sat down next to him, quickly looking again at Jesse further along with the other men. Cal followed her eyes. “You ought to say hello, you know.”

“Hello.”

“You know what I mean. Who’s gonna be the bigger man here, huh? You tell me that?”

“I was just called sonny so it isn’t me.” She started to stand up. “Are those what I think they are?”

“What do you think they are?” Cal grinned up at her.

She stood for a moment trying to think of something clever to say but it wouldn’t come. She felt Jesse’s anger from where she stood. “Better get back,” she said at last. “I’m working over at Miss Bea’s.”

She did a little sashay and left them all to muse on that one for a while.

****

It was Garrison who spotted the riderless horse and called the men out on a search party, but Garrett who saw what looked like a bundle of clothes out near the old Cherokee Trail.