Finally able to get on. Huzzah! Anyway, if you still remember this story and reading, I hope you're happy (or even thrilled) to have a new chapter. Thanks to those who read and offer encouragement.

7

Sitting at the hotel room's desk, I went over the railroad contract four or five times, not because I'm that meticulous or the wording was confusing, but because again, Greer Parker invaded my thoughts. Her perfume had stayed on the sheets and the scent must have invaded my dreams as she was still with me when I woke. I wanted her and that bothered me. For one, I was leaving in three days, maybe sooner if I could resist visiting Mrs. Parker's Parlour without damage to my reputation, what little reputation I had in Sacramento. But I was curious and wondered exactly what her tableaus were like although I had a good idea as I had seen something similar years ago.

I was in New Orleans to finalize on an inheritance left to Joe; he was only fourteen at the time and my father couldn't be spared and Hoss wasn't quite mature enough to make such a lengthy journey alone. I traveled overland to New Orleans, first by coach and switching to rail until in St. Louis, Missouri, I took a steamboat down the Mississippi until at the riverfront, I took the Pontchartrain Railroad into New Orleans. It was a lengthy, hot, miserable trip and seemed to drag on interminably, but the only other option was taking a schooner around the Cape of Good Hope, something I wouldn't consider.

Joe's inheritance which came to him through a bequest left to Marie, his mother, was $300.00, far too much for anyone as young as he was and I couldn't help but feel a little envious. Since returning from school back east, I was champing at the bit, so to speak, and wanted my freedom but lacked the means. At the time, I felt my father was overbearing, my brothers, sandbags dragging me down. What I could have done with that money. And in New Orleans which was so goddamn hot and humid I don't know how the people survive, I had sat down with lawyers in stifling offices and presented the necessary papers to secure the draft. And it wasn't even for me. But since I was there and had endured the trip and the abominable weather, I decided to do some sightseeing before repeating my journey in reverse.

Gaslights brightened the streets which wasn't necessarily a good thing as the peeling paint, rusting wrought iron and garbage in the streets somehow were even more obvious than during the day. So, I had a few warm beers in a saloon of sorts and strolled about, often hearing the patois that seemed a combination of French and Spanish and just plain creativity. I turned down the wrong street and ended up in the pleasure district. Women leaned against doorways and tried to lure me inside and men skulked in the shadows which made me glad I had holstered up. And then, at one door was a sign that promised a show. The man who hawked it, proclaimed that sex acts of all types could be viewed for just three bits. Sounded like a bargain to me so I paid my money and went inside. At 23 years, I considered myself worldly; how young and dumb I was. It was like entering a cave, dimly lit except for gaslights about a raised dais where I was surprised to see two sweaty women making a half-hearted attempt to entertain, one sporting a strapped-on dildo to bring the other to a simulated orgasm. She was no actress and seemed more bored than anything else and moaned and shook on cue, but none of the men watching seemed to care about how convincing her performance was, just that it was two naked women rolling about even though the women's eyes seemed dead.

I took a seat and ordered what ended up being watered down whiskey and cheap whiskey at that and watched a few more scenarios—a man taking a woman from behind, two men and one woman and then two women and one man. They tried their best to look like they were enjoying themselves but by then I had had enough and left, disgusted with the world and myself as well as it had roused me, made me hard. But what I saw stayed with me and I wondered about the situations that landed people in that kind of work, especially the women. And thinking back on it, I had to wonder if that was where Greer "learned" the business. Had she once worked serving up drinks to men bent on watching others perform their fantasies or had she been a participant herself? But then I tend to overthink things and Greer probably had nothing to do with the trade at all before she was a young wife. I considered that my feelings regarding her were probably nothing more than injured pride; after all, I was developing tender feelings for her and she had nothing but disdain for them. But I decided to just count it as experience and move on.

I'd made two changes to my copy of the contract, one benefitting the railroad and the other benefitting Cartwright & Sons, so dressed in a clean shirt and wiping the dust off my boots, I hung the maid service sign on the door and headed out for Bolling's office. But before I did that, I rolled up Greer's abandoned corset and put it in the portfolio, deciding I would first drop it off at her house.

I gave the cabbie the address on Greer's business card and he'd looked at me oddly; if he was familiar with Mrs. Parker and her business then he knew day visitors were a rarity. But he said nothing except "Yes, sir." and took me. When I asked him to wait, I wouldn't be long, he grinned and tipped his cap. I was going to go up the front walk but saw a sign indicating deliveries to the back and since that's what I had, I followed the paving stones through the garden and to the back door where, when I knocked, a large woman wearing an apron opened the door. She looked me up and down, frowning.

"What're you deliverin'?"

I smiled and pulled the corset out. "This is Mrs. Parker's; she left it behind. Please see it's returned to her." She took the corset and stared at me, open-mouthed. I tipped my hat and wished her a nice day. I didn't hear the door close so she must have stared at me until I rounded the corner.

~ 0 ~

Bolling agreed to the changes and sent the contract to be retyped and delivered by courier for my signature. "That is if you'll still be here tomorrow."

"I'll be here, leaving early Saturday." We shook hands to seal the deal and Bolling walked me to the door and invited me to return to Sacramento upon completion of the bridge.

"I'm, sure there'll be a huge ceremony, ribbon cutting, probably even by the governor himself, and you should be there, your whole family even. If the bridge ends up looking and functioning like the civil engineer's plans, it'll be magnificent to see. Why, Adam, with the Ponderosa's ties, you and your family will have a major hand in connecting this area directly to the Pacific coast. You'll be part of history."

I didn't know where I would be in two years or what I would be doing, but thanked him and said I would like to see it. Outside, the wind had kicked up and storm clouds were gathering. I noticed that odd, sweet odor before a good rain but I still had enough time to walk back to the hotel before any rain fell. I looked at all the people on their own personal errands in the world and when someone interesting was approaching, I tried to imagine their profession. It was puzzling with some people but determining factors were whether or not the shoes were polished, the hat brushed, the speed they walked, helped. With women, it wasn't easy since not many lovely and a few were grim about the mouth, narrow-waisted or gone to fat. If they held a net bag filled with greens or a slab of meat wrapped in butcher paper, she was either a wife or a maid. As for anyone guessing mine, it was obvious I was no gentleman farmer, the only other conclusion being I was probably a saddle warmer. It's the look I preferred in a strange town, made me less of a target.

Once inside the hotel lobby, I did what I usually did, ask if there was a telegram. Each time the answer was no, I was relieved but I did wonder how my father was getting on with Mrs. Holland or even if Mrs. Holland was still at the Ponderosa and if she was, was Hop Sing?

"No telegram, Mr. Cartwright but you have a visitor." He motioned to the sitting area in the lobby and looking, I saw a demurely dressed woman. Seeing me, she rose from the sofa and as I approached, I realized it was Greer Parker

"You didn't have to thank me in person for returning your undergarment. After all, what was I to do with it?"

She glanced about and then asked, "May we talk in private?"

"Of course." I gestured toward the restaurant and asked if she'd like coffee or tea. She gathered herself and asked about my room. Would that be all right? I said it would, and taking Greer's elbow, steered her up the stairs but the whole time I wondered what she had in mind.

~ 0 ~

She sat and calmly folded her hands in her lap, resting them on her small bag while I leaned against the bedpost and studied her. She wore no rouge, no kohl about her eyes and her hair was pulled back like a schoolteacher's topped with a nondescript hat lacking flowers or feathers and even ribbons. The brown suit wasn't flattering her and she wore no jewelry. She looked rather plain and unattractive; on the street, I wouldn't have given her a second look.

"You must wonder why I'm here?" Greer asked.

"To thank me for returning your property?"

"Oh, yes. Well, thank you for that." She cleared her throat. "But I have an offer for you. To come straight to the point, would you be interested in becoming my business partner, Mrs. Cartwright?" I laughed out loud at that and she was startled and offended. "I fail to see why that's so funny."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, freshly made by the maid, and said, "Because I'm not going to participate in a business like yours, parlaying human flesh to satisfy the sexual appetites of others." I suddenly realized what a damn hypocrite I was. Didn't I keep Lorraine to satisfy my appetites? What made me think I was so much better that Greer Parker?

Angry, she said, "My people are well-paid. They agree to the terms of their performances and there are rules regarding any clients they take upstairs, both men and women. I provide a service, Mr. Cartwright, a service that doesn't require underground cribs, patrons needing to enter by a hidden passage and…employees rife with disease. It's an honest business. People, both the patrons and the workers know what's required of them beforehand. But I need backing. My other partner is leaving." I had never heard anything about a partner and decided it must be a silent partner in more ways than one. "Wouldn't you rather be here in Sacramento which is on its way to becoming one of the greatest cities in the west rather than…than…dealing with cattle buyers and sitting in an office all day in that backwards cow town, Virginia City? Or even worse, herding those precious cattle of yours to be slaughtered? What's far worse, you peddling death or peddling a service?"

I sat silently and she watched me, wondering, I'm sure, just where she had wounded me; exactly what had she said that silenced me. Then she went in for the kill.

"You said you didn't have a wife but have you a woman?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Yes."

"A kept woman?" Now she knew she had me as I reluctantly nodded. "Well, if you like, you can bring her here. She can work for me, for us, or you can keep her for yourself but you may find someone you desire even more."

"You've given this some thought," I said.

"Yes," she said. "You're a lonely man, Adam Cartwright." I started to protest but she talked over me. "I recognize loneliness in people as I'm lonely myself. Yes, yes, I know it's a foolish thing to say with all the people I meet and entertain, but I am. I would like a companion, someone not only to help me but someone I can help, can provide comfort to. I want someone to talk to as I lie in bed waiting for sleep, someone beside me to wrap his arms about me and listen to my concerns. Don't you, Adam? Don't you want someone to talk to, to help you make your decisions, to support you and perhaps, even love you?'

She stood up and pulled off her gloves and then pulled the hatpins out and placed the hat on the chair. "Now, since I've come all this way and have an hour or two to spare, we may as well enjoy ourselves." She began to push my jacket off my shoulders and I should have stood and asked Greer to leave. But I didn't. Dismissing a brief memory of Lorraine kneeling before me and practically swallowing me up to my balls, I pushed her out of my mind and decided to enjoy Greer. Damn, she was quite the maestra of sex and I was weak with pleasure and desire for more. Greer knew how to get what she wanted and I realized she would do just about anything to get it.