The Chili Queen by Sandra Dallas Read Free Book Online Page B

only a few inches. Parlor house madams, even those whose establishments were as fine as The Chili Queen, nailed strips of wood to the window tracks in the boarders’ rooms to keep men from climbing in and the girls from sneaking out.
    Addie got back into bed, but something hard in the mattress poked her, and she moved around like a nesting bird to find a satisfactory place. She was nearly asleep when a horsefly buzzed about her head. Addie swatted the fly, and it flew off, but in a minute, it was back. In the moonlight that filled the room, Addie saw it land on the iron bedstead, and she smashed it. Then she picked it up by a wing, got out of bed, and flung it out the window, stopping to watch as Welcome walked from the back door of The Chili Queen to the shack where she slept. She was an odd one, but Addie was too tired to think about Welcome. She glanced at her hand and saw that the fly’s wing was stuck to the palm, so she went to the washstand and poured water into the bowl, rinsing off her hands. The towel was gone, and Addie dried her hands on the sheet.
    The bed was hot, so Addie took off her nightdress and lay down on top of the sheet, banging the pillow to fluff it up. She hoped Emma had had just as much trouble falling asleep, but she doubted it. Addie felt a bite on her leg and hoped Miss Frankie hadn’t left behind bedbugs. She spread her nightgown over the top of the bed and lay down again. There was yelling and a gunshot from the direction of the saloons. Then a horse galloped past The Chili Queen. Those were comforting sounds, and lulled by them, Addie at last fell asleep.
    She did not know how long she’d slept, but the sky was light when a woman’s scream made her jump out of bed. Probably, one of the girls had had a bad dream, most likely Miss Tillie, who had been in a sour mood all evening and so unpleasant with a cowboy from Raton that Addie had returned Miss Tillie’s half of his money. Addie settled back in the bed. But the woman screamed again, and Addie sat bolt upright, as she realized the sound wasn’t from one of the girls. It had come from downstairs: The mail-order bride was the one having a nightmare. There was nothing Addie could do about it, and she settled back in bed. But the woman screamed a third time, making so much noise that Addie knew she’d have to shut her up or she’d awaken the whores, and they would go downstairs, and Addie was too tired to explain to Emma what a pair of hookers was doing in a boardinghouse. So she got out of bed again, wrapped the soiled robe about herself, and barefoot, she made her way down the dark stairs, stepping on something wet. She prayed it was water but didn’t think so.
    As she reached the kitchen, Addie heard a key in the back door, and she picked up the poker from the stove in case of an intruder. But it was Welcome who came through the door, muttering, “That noise pesters me. It’s louder than a skeleton dancing on a tin roof. Is it Miss Tillie again?”
    Addie was glad Welcome had come. If Emma had the hysterics, it might take two of them to calm her down. Addie jerked her head toward the bedroom door. “No, it’s that damned old maid, probably dreaming about her wedding night—which is as close to it as she’s going to get.”
    But just then, they heard a swack and a man cried, “Ouch!”
    Addie swore softly, starting toward the room. But Welcome got to the door first, opened it, and rushed in ahead of Addie. Emma, clutching a hairbrush, was standing over a man, who had his hands to his head. “Addie, by zam, it’s me,” he said.
    Welcome gave a deep, throaty chuckle. Then Addie, too, began to laugh. Emma raised her arm to strike again. “He came through the window. I believe he is a masher.”
    Addie grabbed the hairbrush from her. “Naw, he’s no masher. He’s Ned.”
    “Who?” Emma asked, looking around for a second weapon. The man on the floor had lifted his head and was staring from one woman to another.
    “He’s