A Longer Fall (Gunnie Rose #2)(13)

“No. Just met him. But he had a good reputation.”

“What about the others?”

“I had known Charlie Chop for a while.”

“Your other crew members?”

“The man in the tent, the one with the broken nose, that was Rogelio Socorro. The woman I was helping to the wagon was Maddy Smith, another gunnie. I knew Maddy by sight, hadn’t met Rogelio.”

“So how did Jake hire you? I mean, how did he know about you?”

“I have a reputation,” I said, somewhat stiffly.

“I remember,” Eli said, but he was thinking about something else.

“So when I was free and well and ready to work again, Jake sent Charlie to let me know Jake was making up a new crew. I needed a job.”

“Maddy was Jake’s partner?”

“What? No. Jake has a guy back home.” These were odd questions.

Eli kept his eyes on the road, which was good, because it was a rotten road and there were slow farm machines on it, and all kinds of trucks and cars going out to the wreck site. This must be the biggest thing that had ever happened in Sally.

“So what do you plan to do next?” I thought I’d better find out. I’d had enough surprises for the day. “You were coming to get me to hire me to help you, you said.”

“I plan to find the man to whom the chest would have been delivered and talk to him. I want to know if he has ideas about who stole it and where it is now. And I expect after you have had a rest, you’ll want to go see your friends in the hospital. Maybe they know more about the crate than you think. After we determine all these things, we’ll know what to do next.”

I couldn’t think of any response to this.

“Will you take some advice?” Eli said. This was what he’d wanted to say all along, I could tell.

“Maybe.” Depended on the advice. He’d sure gone the long way around the bush to get there.

“You need a dress and other… other lady things to pass, here. To move around.”

“To pass as what?” I’d pulled on a skirt in Mexico so I wouldn’t be odd. Did no one like women in trousers? Surely up in Canada, where it was so cold, women wore practical clothes?

“To be spoken to, to be treated decently, to be accepted as a woman worthy of respect. I’ve been here often enough to know that.”

I had known I was going to stick out in Dixie, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much till I saw the women on the train. Also I hadn’t known I’d be walking around without my crew. I was sure Eli wouldn’t be saying that because my appearance embarrassed him. And when you considered all my mixed feelings about him, it was strange I was sure.

“I don’t have money for clothes.” I didn’t think Dixie was like Mexico, where you could buy used garments from street stalls for pennies.

“I want to hire you to help me. I just didn’t think I’d have to come here to do it. The clothing is part of the job.”

“I accept, as long as it doesn’t conflict with my original hire.”

“All right. First, we get you togged out. Then we start to work.”

Sally seemed like a pretty little town, lots of white houses and green lawns and so on. Paved streets. At the moment those streets were clogged with traffic, with wagons and cars all heading toward the hospital or out to see the wreck.

There was plenty of time to look from side to side.

“There!” said Eli. On a side street to the left there was a store labeled FANCY.

I had been thinking of a dry goods store. Eli thought higher than me, which didn’t surprise me.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me in,” I said, and I was being honest. Being healed hadn’t changed the dirt and blood and sweat.

Nothing was going to stop Eli now. His head was up and his stride was manly. I was going to get some damn clothes. I sighed and trailed after him, wishing I could go in armed. He’d asked me to leave my guns in the car.

Nothing more exciting had happened in that shop, ever. Eli commanded some respect, since he acted like he was used to having money; and he was, well, pretty good-looking in his own way—kind of gawky and exotic, with his cheekbones and his accent and his hair. The Fancy ladies fluttered when he came in the door.

Then they saw me. It was like they’d seen a rat running across the floor. And I didn’t really blame them.

The next forty minutes ranged from painfully embarrassing to just painful. I asked where their washroom was and cleaned up as best I could short of stripping and bathing in the sink. I didn’t want to get grime on these ladies’ dresses.

Lady One (stout, brown-haired, heels) looked relieved when I came out, so I’d done some good.

In the interest of getting me out of the store as soon as possible, Lady Two (blond, thin, red lipstick) had put several things in a dressing room already. I had never seen a dressing room, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. I’d heard Eli explaining I’d been in the wreck, trying to drum up some sympathy for me to make this easier. Hadn’t worked very well.

After ten minutes I was thinking, Fuck these women. I didn’t often even think that word, but it made me feel better while they yanked at me and turned me around. I tried to tell myself this was like picking out a new gun, but that didn’t work too well. I love guns.