Chapter 2
Cheyenne, Wyoming 1867
The night brought a futile battle against sleep. Every few hours, Róisín would be jolted awake by another eruption of noise - a drunken shout, a raucous song, or the unmistakable sounds of… intimacy… emanating from the next room. Back in Boston, the city hummed with a constant thrum, a familiar white noise that lulled her to sleep. How anyone managed to get a decent night's sleep in this place was beyond her.
Finally, just before dawn stretched across the horizon, the noise subsided, leaving behind a peaceful silence. Róisín drifted off for a few precious hours. Her slumber was short-lived, shattered by the sounds of a high-pitched argument erupting in the hallway. Startled from her uneasy dreams, Róisín squinted against the bright sunlight filtering through the streaked glass pane, blinking with bleary confusion as she tiptoed to the door.
In the hazy light of the saloon's sputtering kerosene lamps, she could just discern a small cluster of scantily-clad women, their faces garishly painted and hair disheveled, embroiled in a heated verbal confrontation over what appeared to be some sort of monetary dispute. Harsh words laced with biting profanity were flung back and forth, the air practically crackling with unbridled hostility.
Utterly disoriented and bewildered by the quarrel unfolding just outside her door, Róisín could scarcely begin to comprehend the bizarre spectacle before her. What in Heaven's name was happening?
Suddenly, a vivid splash of bright crimson hair amidst the tangle of squabbling forms caught Róisín's eye - a woman with a face that might have been considered striking were it not marred by heavily smudged makeup and a scowl etched deep into her features. This redhead made her way from the group and turned to scrutinize the newcomer lingering in the open doorway.
"You must be new," the woman stated bluntly, her tone holding a hint of derisive amusement as she pushed past Róisín with surprising force, waltzing uninvited into the small room as if she owned the place herself. "Name's Harriet, though most just call me Haddie," she said by way of brusque introduction, plopping herself down on the rumpled bed with a distinct lack of decorum as her eyes raked over Róisín in a frank appraisal.
A high-pitched giggle, edged with more than a hint of vulgarity, echoed through the cramped room as Haddie bounced on the sagging mattress, her exaggerated movements and over-familiarity giving her all the air of an ill-behaved child mid-tantrum. Slinking back off the bed, she began sauntering in a slow, exaggerated circle around Róisín, her motions taking on an almost predatory quality that set the other woman's nerves on edge.
"Oh, Evelyn's gonna despise you, I can tell already!" Haddie abruptly declared with a braying cackle of mocking laughter, her fingers like long talons flashing as she reached out and snagged a stray lock of Róisín's chestnut hair, twisting the hapless curl idly between her fingers. Róisín recoiled from the unwelcome invasion of her personal space, panic prickling along her skin as she shrank back against the door in alarm.
"E-Evelyn?" She stammered, at an utter loss as to who this person could be or why the redheaded woman seemed to believe she would become the object of such disdain for a total stranger.
"Ah, pay that no never mind, sweetie," Haddie simpered as she continued torturing the captive curl. "She hates all the new girls. Comes from bein' at the top of the peckin' order for so long."
Her ruby-painted lips curved in a suggestive smile that caused Róisín's pounding heart to clench, her overly familiar tone taking on a distinctly insinuating lilt as she purred, "But I can already tell you'll be given' us all a run for the money, sugar - why, you're just about the prettiest lil' thing."
"Th-thank you," Róisín mumbled, barely audible, as she clutched the rusted iron doorknob in a white-knuckled grip, torn between a bone-deep unease and a shameful yearning to flee back out into the hall and away from this unsettling woman's company.
"Say now, you aimin' to start..." Haddie paused, arching one eyebrow as she drew in a harsh inhale, "...workin' tonight? Just can't hardly wait to see them boys get an eyeful of you when you're all dolled up and struttin' that sweet little backside of yours.
Róisín scoffed in a outraged burst, straightening her spine. "It's the Lord's day," she responded curtly, her Irish lilt growing more pronounced. "Surely my brother wouldn't dare open for business on a Sunday!"
Haddie's heavily lined eyes widened momentarily in surprise at Róisín's words before crinkling in seeming amusement. "Lock's your brother, is he?" She echoed with an indelicate snort. "Well, now I'll be damned!"
Róisín's own bewildered stare could not help but be drawn towards the darkened hallway beyond her still-open door as a couple of Haddie's cohorts sashayed by in a swirl of gaudy perfume and tawdry lace, their state of undress leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. A shudder of uneasiness rippled through her as she could not tear her shocked gaze away from their shamelessly unclothed forms.
"I...I don't understand," she said in a trembling exhale, finally finding her voice once more as her eyes rose to meet Haddie's. "Do...do all these women work at the saloon, then?"
The other woman threw back her head and let out a boisterous peal of laughter. "Work at the saloon?" She giggled, slapping her knee as tear tracks of black liner darkened her rouged cheeks. "Oh, honey, we don't 'work' at no saloon, no, no!"
Her amusement tapered off into another one of those conspiratorial smirks that set Róisín's nerves utterly on edge as Haddie leaned in close enough for her to catch an overpowering whiff of stale perfume and whiskey on her heated breath. "We strictly work the upstairs rooms, if'n you catch my meanin', darlin'," she said with a sly wink.
The horrifying truth slammed into Róisín, the air rushed from her lungs in a strangled gasp of disbelief. Her brother Lochlan, the only family she had left in this world, the man whom she'd trusted implicitly - he was running a brothel?
"No...no, that c-cannot be," she choked out, shaking her head. The very notion that her beloved older brother was profiting from such wickedness made her stomach churn in revulsion. "My brother runs a...a den of iniquity?" The words tumbled from Róisín's lips in a horrified gasp of dawning comprehension, spinning dizzily in her ears even as she silently willed them away, pleaded for them not to be true. "No, no, there has to be some mistake - you must be mistaken!"
But even as the frantic denials poured from her lips in a breathless torrent, Róisín could see the truth reflected in Haddie's bright blue eyes. Unable to bear the crushing weight of that dawning realization for a moment longer, she felt something deep within her snap. With a desperate inhalation, she reached out and grasped Haddie by her upper arm with a firm grip, the silken fabric of the woman's tattered robe bunching between her whitened knuckles.
"Out! Get out!" She cried in a trembling voice, hauling the startled redhead towards the door. Róisín flung the door wide, all but flinging Haddie out into the dim hallway.
Left alone in her tiny sanctuary, the enormity Haddie's words crashed over Róisín. How could her own flesh and blood engage in such vile, immoral activities? How could he exploit women - young, defenseless girls no older than herself, she abruptly realized with a sickening lurch - in pursuit of... of what? Earthly desires and wealth?
With trembling hands, she flung open her trunk. She would gather her meager belongings and depart this hell hole immediately, she decided with a set jaw. Perhaps she could procure some menial labor back in Boston, eking out a living however meager as a seamstress or laundress.
Clad once more in her plain blue dress, Róisín gathered up her heavy trunk with a defiant grunt. With her head held high, she stormed out of the cramped quarters and down the creaking stairs, hauling the cumbersome luggage behind her with a resounding clatter.
Bursting out onto the saloon's weathered boardwalk, Róisín flung the trunk to the ground with a muffled thud, the harsh impact raising a puff of dust. With a renewed sense of determination, Róisín silently vowed she would rather secure honest work, no matter how menial, anything to avoid being party to Lochlan's depraved schemes here in this godforsaken corner of the world