Chapter 6

Cheyenne, Wyoming 1867

The chill morning air was no match for the slanted shaft of sunlight that streamed through the windowpane, bathing the faded quilt in its golden warmth. Upon the well-worn blanket, two girls huddled in whispers and giggles, their heads bent together in quiet conspiracy. With a patient hand, Róisín traced her finger across the faded text, guiding her companion through the carefully inscribed words.

"Miss Bingley told me said Jane," Haddie read aloud, her brow furrowing in concentration as her lips formed each syllable with painstaking precision. "That he never sp-acks, no. Shoot."

"Speeeaks," Róisín gently corrected, sounding out the troublesome word.

Haddie nodded, her eyes fixed upon the page. "Speaks much, unless amon-gee?"

"Among," Róisín replied, pointing to the offending letter. "Here the 'g' is silent, it makes the 'n' have a different sound. Like the words 'sing' or 'ring' – with 'among' the 'g' at the end, you don't say 'guh' or 'gee'."

"Among..." A small crease appeared between Haddie's brows as she scrutinized the text once more, her finger hovering over the next unfamiliar word.

"He never speaks much unless among his intimate acquaintance," Róisín continued, her voice adopting the gentle cadence of the prose. "With them, he is remarkably agreeable."

Haddie's frown deepened. "This Mr. Darcy sounds like a no-good son of a bitch," she declared, her tone laced with unveiled disdain.

A ghost of a smile played upon Róisín's lips. "A bit at first," she conceded. "But there's more to him than that."

"Then we fall in love with him?" Haddie's eyes widened with impish delight, a teasing glint sparkling within their azure depths.

Róisín chuckled. "Something like that, I suppose."

A contemplative silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging palpable in the air. Finally, Haddie broke the reverie, her voice hushed yet laced with solemn curiosity.

"Ya think that's how it's supposed to be?" She inhaled a steadying breath, her gaze drifting towards the cracked plaster of the ceiling as she posed the pivotal query. "Fallin' in love, I mean."

The laughter drained from Róisín's features, replaced by a pensive melancholy that etched premature lines at the corners of her eyes. A weary sigh slipped past her lips as she traced an indiscernible pattern upon the quilt's faded print.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice tinged with a fragile vulnerability. "Back in Boston, I used to think it I'd meet a man, charming and..."

"Handsome?" Haddie interjected with a sly grin, nudging her friend's arm with a playful elbow.

A fleeting chuckle escaped Róisín's lips. "Of course," she noded, unable to suppress the wistful smile that played upon her features. "Maybe even a little wealthy."

Haddie's grin morphed into a wicked smirk as her eyes danced with impish delight. "I'd take a little less handsome if it meant he had more in his pockets," she declared with an exaggerated wink.

"Haddie!" Róisín exclaimed, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she fought to stifle the burst of scandalized giggles that threatened to erupt.

Her friend was utterly unrepentant, throwing back her head with a peal of laughter that reverberated through the small room. "I meant money!" Haddie insisted with a broad grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You filthy minded thing, what did you think I meant?"

Róisín's cheeks flushed a furious shade of crimson as she swatted at Haddie with the book, her embarrassment only fueling her friend's amusement. "You know exactly what you meant," she huffed, unable to maintain her facade of indignation.

With a giggle, Haddie deftly evaded the halfhearted blows, rolling onto her back with a contented sigh. For a lingering moment, a companionable silence settled over them, broken only by the occasional twitter of laughter.

At length, Haddie propped herself up on her elbows, turning to Róisín. "In all seriousness though," she began, her tone sobering somewhat, "a man's wealth is one of the only things that matters around here."

"Survival." Róisín echoed her brother's words.

"It's not just about survival, Róise," she stated with a frank candor. "It's about security. Protection. Having enough money means never having to..." She trailed off, unwilling or unable to give voice to the unspoken implications.

"I know," she finally rasped, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

"I used to dream of havin' a family," Haddie confessed in a whisper scarcely louder than a breath, her words laden with a despondence that eclipsed her tender years.

"You don't longer?" Róisín prodded gently.

Haddie's gaze met hers, the childlike innocence that had once danced within their blue depths extinguished, replaced by a sobering practicality that lent her an air of world-weariness far beyond her years.

"I'm a whore, Róise," she stated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I'm not waiting for Prince Charming to come save me anymore."

The stark words hung between them. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she reached out, grasping Haddie's hands in her own with a fierce tenderness.

"You're young, and beautiful, Haddie. You can still have that family you dream of."

Haddie's eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears of disbelief. "Why are you so nice to me?" She breathed, her voice quavering ever so slightly.

Róisín squeezed her hands with softly. "Because we're friends, right?" She stated, her tone resolute, unwavering.

Slowly, the shadows of despair retreated from Haddie's features, replaced by the first tentative blossoms of hope. Her lips curved into a timid yet grateful smile. "I'm so glad you came here, Róise," she whispered, her words brimming with sincerity and affection.

"Me too," Róisín echoed fervently, leaning in to envelop her friend in a tender embrace.

For a lingering moment, they embraced, drawing strength and solace from one another's nearness. At length, Haddie pulled away, a mischievous light rekindled in her eyes as she smiled at Róisín.

"I'll wager Mr. Carson is glad you came here too," she teased.

A hot blush flushed Róisín's cheeks, her lips parting in a slight pout of embarrassment. "He's a very attentive man," she mumbled, striving for indifference yet falling well short of the mark.

A loud snort burst from Haddie's lips as she fought to stifle her giggles, her shoulders quaking with laughter. "From what I hear from the other girls, he's a VERY nice man, Róise," she managed between gasping peals of amusement.

Róisín's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in a mixture of shock and reproach. "Haddie!" She exclaimed, her tone laced with scandalized disapproval.

"What?" Haddie chortled, clutching at her stomach as gales of laughter wracked her body. "Surely you don't think the men who come here are saints do you?"

A mortified groan slipped from Róisín's lips as she buried her flaming face in her hands. Undeterred, Haddie reached out her nimble fingers seeking out the sensitive flesh of Róisín's sides with a flurry of teasing tickles. The unexpected onslaught elicited a squeal of surprise from her friend, followed by a futile barrage of swatting hands in a desperate bid for reprieve.

"Come on, Róise," Haddie persisted through her laughter, evading each half-hearted blow with ease. "You're not a delicate flower. You're a grown woman!"

Róisín managed to extricate herself from Haddie's relentless assault. "It's just... private things," she stammered, her eyes downcast as she struggled to reign in her mortification.

Haddie rolled her eyes, utterly unperturbed. "It's just bodies, Róise. Bodies," she stated with an air of practiced nonchalance. "There ain't nothing private or emotional about it."

Róisín pondered this unexpected honesty, a flicker of curiosity battling against the deeply ingrained constraints of her ingrained modesty. At length, she met Haddie's gaze, her own eyes shining with a mixture of trepidation and furtive inquisitiveness.

"But isn't it... difficult?" She began, faltering slightly as the words fought their way past the lump that had formed in her throat. "Making love to different men?"

A snort burst from Haddie's lips as she shook her head. "Making love?" She scoffed, her tone laced with cynicism. "I ain't makin' love with any of 'em."

Her words hung in the charged air, stark and uncompromising, as Róisín's eyes widened in stunned disbelief. Haddie leaned forward, her features devoid of shame or artifice as she imparted this brutal truth.

"It's physical," she continued in a clinical cadence far beyond her years. "Sometimes it's enjoyable, sometimes it's just a chore, depending on the man. But there's no connection, no emotions."

Róisín's mind raced as she digested this jarring revelation. The very thought of such intimacy with Mr. Carson – or any man, for that matter – had filled her with unease. But to hear Haddie so candidly describe such carnal acts as emotionless transactions was profoundly unsettling in a manner she could scarcely articulate.

"I could never do it," she finally whispered, her voice quavering with conviction even as her mind reeled.

Haddie's expression softened as she reached out, giving Róisín's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"You'd be surprised what you are capable of," she replied, a knowing smile playing upon her lips as she regarded her friend with an unmistakable fondness. "We all do what we gotta do."