A/N: This is an imagined prequel to the Al/Trixie pairing, set some years before 1876, the "Deadwood" years. This picks up a few years after "Miseries and Familiars" ends.
I own nothing, all is HBO's, David Milch's , or history's creations. Some fictitious characters are based on composites of historical figures.
Warnings for violence, graphic description of violent facial wounds, pimp/prostitute dynamics, language, implied euthanasia, casual sex (non-explicit), abortion.
Making Their Way
Chapter 2
She didn't remember much about the next place. She had missed her monthlies early in their stay. Trixie was shy, then, to talk to Al about that kind of thing. The second morning she threw up in her chamber pot, he heard her and figured out what had happened. She thought she'd get another beating for not saying anything, but he had been right kind about it. He had gone out asking around for a certain type of midwife while he let Trixie lay around like the Queen of fuckin' Sheba. He even paid extra for the old lady to cook her a big hit of dope before, and made sure she held the needle in the flame for a good little while first.
The next night she could remember through the dope haze, he had let her fall asleep with her head on his chest, him stroking her hair. He made her promise that she'd never use a needle again, that she'd stick to the laudanum or liquor. Didn't want her ending up like her mother. That week, she had seen some warmth in his eyes, like he really cared about her. He let her just give blow jobs for another week while she healed.
She thought that might have been in Council Bluffs. He had finally fucked her then, going easy, trying not to hurt her. He said at the time he just didn't want her to start whining under a trick to where he'd ask for his money back, wanted to see for himself she was ready to get back to work. She could tell he liked it, though. It was months before he got mad enough to hit her again.
That time, she knew she deserved it. They had a good thing going in Council Bluffs, but a trick started fighting her over him coming too fast and wanting another go for free. If he had kept it to yelling, Al would have taken care of things. He had gone to hitting, though. Trixie couldn't stand somebody hitting her that had no right to, and she'd stuck him with the little knife she carried. The man had gone crazy over thinking how to explain his wound to his wife, and then Al had gotten into it.
That was the end of their stay in Council Bluffs. Al had left with money owed to him, putting him in a foul mood no offers of pussy or blow jobs could improve. If anything, it made him madder. She kept to pallets next to whatever bed he slept in for the next month, missing the sound of his heartbeat, waiting on his forgiveness.