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"Hearst called to me this afternoon," Catherine revealed before Al had even closed the office door. She had been nervous about revealing her news and his absence from the Gem upon her return had only caused more anxiety. Now the words were tripping from her tongue, she felt the better for it.
"In what sense, called?" Al asked, moving around his desk.
"From his vantage point atop the hotel as I was making my way back here from Shaughnessy's." She gripped the back of the vacant chair. "He wanted to discuss a proposition with me."
"He wanted to discuss a proposition with you in the thoroughfare?"
"No, I went to his chamber."
Al paused and stared at her. "Have you lost your fucking mind? To be considering being alone with any man in his chamber shows lack of a reasoned mind from a woman who doesn't offer herself to him for money, but with a man such as he..."
"It was broad daylight, Al," she replied, rolling her eyes, "the hotel was busy and, what's more, he left the door ajar."
"Oh well, if he left the door ajar..." his voice dripped sarcasm. "At least someone would have been able to come to your aid in the immediate aftermath of whatever he may have considered appropriate to subject you to."
"Do you want to fucking hear this or would you prefer to simply ridicule me?"
"Please proceed." He sat down and bade her do likewise. "What proposition did he have for you?"
"His wife is due to join him in camp and, fearing for her safety and wellbeing, he wished to employ me as companion to her being, as I suppose, a woman he considers she would warm to." She raised her chin defiantly, awaiting his rebuke. "He intends to pay me and I agreed to his terms."
"Uh huh..." Al pulled a bottle and two glasses from his drawer and set them on the table. "And you agreed to this without recourse to my approval or opinion?"
"I don't believe I am bound to gain your approval for any of my actions." Especially not now, she wanted to add, in light of your indifference. He looked at her for a long moment, as though reading her mind. She wanted to say something, anything, to bring him to a confession of his feelings, but the moment was swiftly lost.
"Fucking Hearst," he said, downing a glass and pouring himself another. "Throws me a curveball like that and sits back to await my response..." he sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin pensively.
"Response has already been given by my agreeing to his request," Catherine replied, draining her own glass. "She's arriving on tomorrow's stage and that Captain that he has following him about will advise me as to when she is ready to receive me."
"You and he have it all worked out, haven't you?"
She blushed and looked away at the suggestion of a conspiracy. "It ain't like that, as well you know."
"One supposes this could present an opportunity for us," Al mused, sitting forwards again. "To have you ensconced in Hearst's premises, companion to his wife...plenty of opportunity for you to be watchful and observant and report to me anything you might hear about his plans for the camp or its citizens."
"That ain't why..."
"Indeed, he clearly harbours no suspicion towards you, being married to me as you are, otherwise he would not have offered the position." He refilled her glass and slid it towards her companionably.
"That ain't why I agreed to the offer," she said.
"No...I'm sure your head was turned with the idea of making a new friend in camp," he replied patronisingly. "But contrary to what you may believe, Cathy, you have a purpose here and an opportunity presenting itself like this to you ain't to be ignored."
Catherine sighed heavily, knowing there was little use in arguing with him on the matter. "I suppose...if the opportunity presented itself for my learning anything..."
"Now that's more the attitude I fucking expect," he said, re-corking the bottle and returning it to the drawer. "Doc's down seeing to the whores. Not to detract from your new position, but your old one here still requires fulfilling." Wordlessly she got to her feet and left the room, leaving him to ponder the document still safely tucked into his pocket and the fact that new developments could only serve to leave his plans on hold for the moment.
XXXX
"That's a nasty bite Jen has on her arm," Doc observed, directing Catherine's attention to it in the whores' room.
"I know," she replied, looking at the mark and wincing at the memory of the whore's scream of agony but a few days ago. "Fucking hooplehead taking fucking liberties. Johnny saw him off though." She smiled reassuringly at the other woman. "He's turning out to be Jen's knight in shining armour."
Jen smiled in return but said nothing.
"I'll be keeping my eye on you," Doc said, handing Jen some cream. "Make sure you put this on it and keep a watch for infection." He got to his feet and turned to Catherine. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," she replied. "Feeling much better."
"I'm delighted to hear it." He drew her away from the others. "Have you and Al...resumed marital relations? I ask, not out of perverted curiosity, but from a purely medical perspective. Any problems you might be having..."
"No," she replied hurriedly. "That...hasn't happened yet."
"I see. Well, when it does, if you suffer prolonged discomfort or bleeding, you must come see me. Too many women in your situation suffer in silence and there is no embarrassment needed."
"Thanks, Doc," she said, though it seemed unlikely at the present moment that such a visit would be required. She left Doc to finish up his work and made her way back into the bar, now thronged with customers, where the first person to catch her attention was Harry Manning.
"Mrs Swearengen!" he hurried forward to her. "It's...uh...it's good to see you looking so well."
"Thank you, Mr Manning, though I have seen you on several occasions over the last few weeks," she reminded him.
"Oh...uh...yeah..." Harry shifted nervously. "I...I wanted you to know that...well...I...I've asked Miss Lewis for her hand and she's accepted me."
Catherine thought on the flower seller, Milly Lewis, a pretty young thing with an open face and pleasant manner. She would be ideal for Harry. "I'm happy for you both," she said. "Please give my congratulations to Miss Lewis when you next see her."
"I will...thank you..." he hovered for another few seconds before turning and making his way to the door.
"Why'd he tell you that?" Catherine turned to see Dolly hovering by her shoulder.
"No idea."
"Maybe he thought you'd be jealous."
She laughed shortly, "A misguided opinion if ever I heard one."
"You and Al ain't fucking."
Catherine stared at the other woman, taken aback by the baldness of her statement.
"I heard what you said to Doc."
"That ain't your business."
Dolly pulled her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Reckon we should know if the task is going to fall to us again."
"That ain't your business, Dolly," Catherine repeated, her voice tight. "You mention it again, it ain't just Al you'll need to deal with." Dolly scurried away and she found herself leaning on the bar for support. It was the first time she had ever threatened one of the girls and the words didn't sit easy with her. The fact that they were aware, that they felt justified to comment...she looked up at the closed office door and thought about the man therein. The man she was beginning to feel like she no longer knew.
XXXX
"You make sure you keep your eyes and ears fucking open," Al said, as he undressed that night at his side of the bed. "Least little thing you think important you relay to me for my consideration. Anything she might say about Hearst or his intentions or anything you might overhear him say to her. Anything, you understand?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm one of the whores sent to do your bidding," Catherine replied acerbically from behind the day's edition of The Pioneer. If he had said these words to her once, he had said them a thousand times. "I agreed to keep a watchful eye and ear but my primary purpose is to meet Mrs Hearst and companion her as requested, not go sneaking around the hotel seeking information."
"Remember who you're fucking married to," he reminded her, his tone sharp.
"As if I could fucking forget," she replied. The newspaper was suddenly snatched from in front of her face, causing her to gasp as he appeared at her own side of the bed. "Jesus, Al..."
"Fucking loyalty, Catherine, and don't you ever forget it!" He loomed over her. "You ain't going over there to make a new friend and take tea and pass yourself off as some fucking well-to-do type. You're going over there to take advantage and to see what you can fucking learn about Hearst and his intentions in the camp!"
It was the most alive she had seen him for weeks and his animation over the fact only served to arouse her starved body. Before he could react, she leapt to her feet, pulled her chemise over her head and threw herself at him, somewhat inelegantly. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, and she pressed her naked body against him. For a moment, he responded to her, his mouth hard against her own, his hands straying to her buttocks and pulling her forcibly against his pelvis, causing her to moan at the sensation of his hard prick against her. But just when she thought she had broken through, he pulled away and pushed her from him.
"That ain't happening," he told her, moving around to the other side of the bed.
"Why not? You have a hard on, I could fucking feel it! Why won't you touch me?! Why do you deny yourself what I know you must truly want?!"
"You ain't got the first fucking clue what I must truly want," he replied, bending to put on his pants, as to leave the room.
"No please, don't!" Catherine begged, feeling tears threatening behind her eyes. The humiliation of Dolly's words flooded back to her and the last thing she wanted was more talk about their current situation. "Please don't sleep elsewhere. I will lie on my side of the bed and allow you peace to lie on yours without my touching you if that is what you wish. I won't ask you about it again, you have my word. Only please don't make this...this chasm between us any fucking wider than it already is."
He paused in his actions and then nodded imperceptibly.
Slowly she retrieved her chemise from the floor and pulled it back over her head before sliding beneath the blanket again. She deliberately didn't watch as he completed his own undressing and retired beside her. As the lamp was extinguished, she lay and stared at the ceiling, wishing with all her heart that he would turn to her and yet knowing that he would not.
July 29th 1876
The arrival of the stagecoach the following morning took Catherine to the nearest window lest she catch sight of her new charge. She was not to be disappointed, as only one traveller could have fitted the description of any woman married to Hearst. She alighted from the stage, dressed in a garment of vivid red, her blonde hair piled up on top of her head. Dropping gracefully to the ground, she looked around and was warmly greeted by the man himself, who swept her into his arms and lovingly kissed her on the mouth before gently guiding her into the hotel. Catherine felt a stab of jealously go through her. Even when their relationship had been of a more intimate nature, Al would never deign to show true affection in public.
"Spying on the newly arrived Mrs Hearst?" Al's voice at her ear caused her to jump. "Assuming that's her of course."
"I imagine so. And if you intend to lecture me again on my role as her companion then please reserve your words for someone who hasn't yet heard them. I, have had my fill." She made to move away from the window, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back.
"Tone like that ain't going to win you my favour," he said softly.
"I appear to have already lost that," she snapped, pulling her arm free. "If your complete indifference to me is any guide." She lifted her shawl from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm going to visit Daddy's grave, a task I have sorely neglected of late. I doubt I'll be required at the hotel for some time but I'm sure you would be able to find someone willing to fetch me if the need arose."
Al watched as she swept out of the room, indignation following her like scent. He moved back to the window and waited until she appeared in the thoroughfare below, her step purposeful. Stopping only to purchase some tired looking blooms from the flower seller, whom Al had come to understand was to be wed to Harry Manning, she cast a final look back in his direction before continuing on her way. Turning away, he glanced at the bed that had been at the centre of the previous night's argument. Little would have prevented him from acceding to her wish to fuck, had he not still the hard knot of guilt in his chest. He knew she didn't understand his seeming reluctance for intimacy and some form of explanation would require to be given in due course, but he preferred to keep the truth to himself. His fear that intimacy between them could lead to pregnancy was ever prevalent. For though reason told him that a return of her sickness was far beyond the realms of possibility, human feeling dictated that he never place her in such a situation where possibility remained.
XXXX
"A very good afternoon to you, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst greeted Catherine on the stairs of the hotel.
"Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied, conscious of Captain Turner close at her back. He had appeared at the Gem shortly after two o'clock that afternoon and decreed that Mrs Hearst was ready to receive visitors. Somewhat unsurely, she had found herself following him out of the saloon and across the thoroughfare to the hotel. Al had been conspicuously absent from the bar at the time and for that, she had been glad.
"You'll find my wife in the room down the hall. Turner will show you. I, unfortunately, have much business to attend to this afternoon but I do hope that you two ladies enjoy each other's company."
"I'm sure we will, thank you," she replied. He touched his hat and continued on his way. Silently, Captain Turner led her along the corridor to another room and knocked twice on the door.
"Come in!" A female voice called from inside. He pushed the door open and motioned for Catherine to enter first. As she did so, she came face to face with the same woman she had seen alighted from the stage earlier, though she was now dressed in a soft blue and her hair fell around her face.
"You must be Mrs Swearengen," the woman hurried forward, her hands extended in greeting. "It's so wonderful to meet you. I'm Phoebe Hearst."
"Mrs Hearst," Catherine replied, feeling an overwhelming urge to curtsey.
"Oh please call me Phoebe. I can't abide Mrs Hearst. It makes me sound so old!" Phoebe smiled at her. "May I call you Catherine? Such a pretty face! You also seem far too young to bear an old married woman's name."
"Of course."
"How wonderful! Won't you come and sit down and take tea with me? That will be all, Turner." She dismissed the captain with a wave of her hand and directed Catherine to a chair situated by the window before which sat an elegant tea tray. Or, at least as elegant as one would find in the Central Hotel. "I can't tell you how delighted I am that you agreed to George's request! The thought of coming to the camp with no prospect of company was rather terrifying!"
"Folks ain't so bad here," Catherine said.
"Not to you, perhaps," Phoebe agreed, pouring the tea into two cups. "You've been here now for some time. But after San Francisco this is certainly a new experience for me! I've often wondered about the places George travels to and now I can say that I have seen one of them for myself!"
Catherine found herself smiling at Phoebe's enthusiasm. "It must be difficult to have your husband away from you for so long."
"Sometimes, though it's often a blessing disguise. George is always so preoccupied with business that even when he is at home I can't command his attention for very long. The house is always full of business acquaintances traipsing in and out and even when he is at home, William and I often find ourselves dining alone most nights. It's only with William being away at school that I decided I had to get myself out of that house and see something of our great country. Missouri and San Francisco have been my limit so far, I'm afraid. Oh, you must see a picture!" Phoebe leapt to her feet and hurried across the room, returning with a small cameo photograph of an unsmiling young boy who looked no older than thirteen.
"He looks very like his father," Catherine observed.
"Yes..." Phoebe mused. "He's my pride and joy. I had hoped to bear George more children but, unfortunately, we have not been further blessed and what with his advancing years..." She sat back down and smiled at her guest. "But tell me about yourself! I understand that, like myself, you too have made a match with a man older than your years."
"Yes."
"And you work for this man?"
"I don't work for him," Catherine said quickly. "I inherited a half share in the Gem saloon across the way after my father died and I...look after the girls there," she replied, hoping the other woman took her meaning. "Al was his business partner and subsequently my own. Though marriage and relinquishment of my share to him certainly wasn't something I had ever expected to do."
"The financial lot of the married woman is regrettable, but you can't often help whom you fall in love with. I was but eighteen when we wed and completely infatuated," Phoebe smiled at the memory, seemingly unconcerned by the revelation of her visitor's status. "Even now, whenever his gaze rests upon me, I feel like that young girl again. I suppose you must feel the same."
Catherine thought back to her courtship with Al, if it could be called that. Drunken fucking followed by a sudden declaration of affection hardly seemed to count as courtship. At least not in any way she thought Phoebe would understand. And as for their situation now...
"In any event, I cannot wait to see more of the camp!" Phoebe declared, draining her cup.
"Aren't you tired after your long journey?"
"Not in the slightest. I rested earlier." Phoebe got to her feet. "Now, will you act as guide?"