Painted Ladies of the West
Many
people do not realize there were two kinds of “bad girls” in the Old
West. There were saloon and dance hall women who danced with men and
offered music and conversation while they drank, but did not engage in
prostitution. In the shabbiest saloons – the brothels – the women also
took customers up to their rooms. Of course, some of the whorehouses
were of higher class than others serving to the more well to do, but
most serviced the dusty cowboys, drifters, and miners.
The
saloon and dance hall women were considered respectable company by the
men who enjoyed their company and were treated like ladies. These ladies
looked down upon the working women and would not want to be in the
company of a prostitute. I find it interesting that even among painted
ladies there was a social order.
The
Puritan women in the East considered both types of women as “fallen”
not differentiating between the two. To them a painted lady was a lady
of sin. Girls did not work in saloons in the East. Of course, women were
plentiful in the East. The desire for female company in the West made
being a saloon girl a profitable job especially in the boomtowns. I have
read many stories of women making a fortune during the gold rush. Many
widows and farm girls were lured to the West and entered this profession
looking for easy work and high wages. The work was not really easy not
matter if the lady worked in a dance hall or brothel. As Ida Page points
in Wild and Tender Care she’d seen the roughest side of the West and all the worst men could offer.
Dr.
William Steere is different. He is a refined gentleman who doesn’t even
carry a gun. She is intrigued by his manners and handsome looks. Could
he really have feelings for her—a former madam?
Excerpt:
The following day she focused on her usual pile of laundry. Scrubbing a
pair of trousers, she did not know anyone had approached until she heard
a man cough.
Stomach tightening, her spine snapped straight.
Dr. Steere nodded to her. “Miss Page, I did not mean to sneak up on you.”
“That’s quite all right, Doctor,” she said, her insides slowly unwinding.
“I see you are enjoying the sunshine.”
“If you consider running clothes over a washboard as enjoyment.”
He glanced up at the sun. “Colorado Territory does have pretty skies, don’t you think?”
What was this, a feeble attempt at small talk? She didn’t have the strength to keep up the charade any longer. It was much easier to be friendly. “A blue sky is a blue sky.”
He shook his head. “But this sky has horses and castles and giant flowers.”
She peered up at the clouds dotting the stretch of endless blue. Looking for shapes in the clouds had been a fun game when she was little. She pointed to a large cloud. “That one looks like a boat.”
Dr. Steere sidled up to her and followed her finger to where she was pointing. “Yes, it does.”
His masculine musk filled the air, surrounding her. A deep-seated ache migrated through her body and settled between her thighs. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even though whoring had been her business, she’d learned to derive pleasure from her clients. A pleasure she’d been long denied. Dr. Steere was not like any of the usual men who had called upon her nightly services. His presence alone aroused her. She didn’t even need his touch to remind her body what to do.
Her long-suppressed need for male companionship rose to the surface. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the corners of his lips twitching. Had he caught her looking at him?
If this was a game for him, she’d be happy to lose. Her heart raced, beating with eagerness to be with him. It would be more than sex with him. They had a deeper connection. He wanted to court her, make her his wife, and she longed for him to drop on one knee and ask her.
She could enjoy his strong, steady presence all day especially if it led to the bedroom. Damn, this was a precarious situation. He wanted her and her body wanted to be with him, but she knew the people of Big Rock better than he did. Was she ready for the storm that would follow?
While she was in charge of her own life, not the good Christians passing judgment on her, she did have to live within their community. Would it be more or less painful to live as Mrs. Steere?
Clearing her throat, she got his attention. “What is your business here, Dr. Steere? I take it you no longer require directions around town.”
“No, you explained the surroundings very well. It will just take time for me to get to know everything.” The way he looked at her left no question of whom he wanted to get to know.
Her pulse skidded out of control and her core heated. She put both her hands in her apron pockets to keep from running them up and down Dr. Steere’s broad shoulders.
She gulped air, grasping for her resolve to keep things strictly professional. “Did you come out here merely to discuss the clouds? I figured a doctor would have more important things to occupy his time.”
He put a hand on his chest. “The lady’s wit strikes again.”
She scowled. His sarcasm was not becoming.
“I was actually hoping you could get out bloodstains.” He took off his frock coat and then his vest, standing before her in a white shirt, tie, and trousers.
He was stripping in front of her. She couldn’t believe it! Yes, she’d seen many men strip for her before but that had been in the privacy of her room, not on the front lawn where anyone could see. Heat spread from her ears all the way down to her toes, and yet she could not tear her eyes away from the enthralling sight.
She wetted her lips and clenched her thighs, already feeling the moisture down below. He slipped off his tie and then proceeded to take off his white shirt.
Speechless, she gaped at his toned chest covered in a dusting of black hair.
“I suppose I should have changed at the office,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I wasn’t thinking.
I knew it was best to clean the bloodstain quickly. I was changing the bandage on a patient and my sleeve fell down.” He handed the shirt to her.
The right sleeve was coated in blood, still damp.
Somehow her lust-filled mind still managed to form a coherent sentence. “I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you. After medical school and the war I don’t have too much savings. I figure I’ll be scraping by until I build up a good practice. Of course, I realize many patients pay in kind out here.” His gaze migrated lower, pausing for a hairbreadth at her thighs and she pulsed with need.
“How much do you charge?”
“Charge?”
He pointed to the shirt she was holding. “For the washing,” he said, a taut smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh. Two bits.”
He nodded and began buttoning up his frock coat to hide his bare chest.
“I-I can deliver your shirt tomorrow,” she stammered.
“That will be fine, Miss Page. You know where my office is.” He walked all the way to the street and then stopped and turned around. “A doctor keeps long hours,” he called to her. “My door is always open.”
Stomach tightening, her spine snapped straight.
Dr. Steere nodded to her. “Miss Page, I did not mean to sneak up on you.”
“That’s quite all right, Doctor,” she said, her insides slowly unwinding.
“I see you are enjoying the sunshine.”
“If you consider running clothes over a washboard as enjoyment.”
He glanced up at the sun. “Colorado Territory does have pretty skies, don’t you think?”
What was this, a feeble attempt at small talk? She didn’t have the strength to keep up the charade any longer. It was much easier to be friendly. “A blue sky is a blue sky.”
He shook his head. “But this sky has horses and castles and giant flowers.”
She peered up at the clouds dotting the stretch of endless blue. Looking for shapes in the clouds had been a fun game when she was little. She pointed to a large cloud. “That one looks like a boat.”
Dr. Steere sidled up to her and followed her finger to where she was pointing. “Yes, it does.”
His masculine musk filled the air, surrounding her. A deep-seated ache migrated through her body and settled between her thighs. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even though whoring had been her business, she’d learned to derive pleasure from her clients. A pleasure she’d been long denied. Dr. Steere was not like any of the usual men who had called upon her nightly services. His presence alone aroused her. She didn’t even need his touch to remind her body what to do.
Her long-suppressed need for male companionship rose to the surface. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the corners of his lips twitching. Had he caught her looking at him?
If this was a game for him, she’d be happy to lose. Her heart raced, beating with eagerness to be with him. It would be more than sex with him. They had a deeper connection. He wanted to court her, make her his wife, and she longed for him to drop on one knee and ask her.
She could enjoy his strong, steady presence all day especially if it led to the bedroom. Damn, this was a precarious situation. He wanted her and her body wanted to be with him, but she knew the people of Big Rock better than he did. Was she ready for the storm that would follow?
While she was in charge of her own life, not the good Christians passing judgment on her, she did have to live within their community. Would it be more or less painful to live as Mrs. Steere?
Clearing her throat, she got his attention. “What is your business here, Dr. Steere? I take it you no longer require directions around town.”
“No, you explained the surroundings very well. It will just take time for me to get to know everything.” The way he looked at her left no question of whom he wanted to get to know.
Her pulse skidded out of control and her core heated. She put both her hands in her apron pockets to keep from running them up and down Dr. Steere’s broad shoulders.
She gulped air, grasping for her resolve to keep things strictly professional. “Did you come out here merely to discuss the clouds? I figured a doctor would have more important things to occupy his time.”
He put a hand on his chest. “The lady’s wit strikes again.”
She scowled. His sarcasm was not becoming.
“I was actually hoping you could get out bloodstains.” He took off his frock coat and then his vest, standing before her in a white shirt, tie, and trousers.
He was stripping in front of her. She couldn’t believe it! Yes, she’d seen many men strip for her before but that had been in the privacy of her room, not on the front lawn where anyone could see. Heat spread from her ears all the way down to her toes, and yet she could not tear her eyes away from the enthralling sight.
She wetted her lips and clenched her thighs, already feeling the moisture down below. He slipped off his tie and then proceeded to take off his white shirt.
Speechless, she gaped at his toned chest covered in a dusting of black hair.
“I suppose I should have changed at the office,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I wasn’t thinking.
I knew it was best to clean the bloodstain quickly. I was changing the bandage on a patient and my sleeve fell down.” He handed the shirt to her.
The right sleeve was coated in blood, still damp.
Somehow her lust-filled mind still managed to form a coherent sentence. “I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you. After medical school and the war I don’t have too much savings. I figure I’ll be scraping by until I build up a good practice. Of course, I realize many patients pay in kind out here.” His gaze migrated lower, pausing for a hairbreadth at her thighs and she pulsed with need.
“How much do you charge?”
“Charge?”
He pointed to the shirt she was holding. “For the washing,” he said, a taut smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh. Two bits.”
He nodded and began buttoning up his frock coat to hide his bare chest.
“I-I can deliver your shirt tomorrow,” she stammered.
“That will be fine, Miss Page. You know where my office is.” He walked all the way to the street and then stopped and turned around. “A doctor keeps long hours,” he called to her. “My door is always open.”
Blurb:
Ida
Page has seen the worst the west has to offer. Snubbed by the citizens
of Big Rock, Colorado, ever since the town cleaned up its act and became
civilized, she has tried to change with the times. No other line of
work available, she became a laundress after the mayor shut down the
whorehouse, but the good people will not allow her to forget her past as
a shady lady. She has given up on ever being accepted, let alone
falling in love, until a handsome half-breed stranger arrives in town.
After the War Between the States, William Steere has been looking for a town to build a medical practice. He answered a newspaper ad placed by the mayor of Big Rock and hopes their desperate need for a doctor will overrule their race prejudice against his half-breed status. At the Independence Day picnic, he is introduced to all the town citizens except for one woman sitting off by herself. This redhead draws him to her with merely a gaze.
Can the two outcasts find love and acceptance in each other's arms or will the town’s cruelty and a smallpox epidemic tear them apart?
After the War Between the States, William Steere has been looking for a town to build a medical practice. He answered a newspaper ad placed by the mayor of Big Rock and hopes their desperate need for a doctor will overrule their race prejudice against his half-breed status. At the Independence Day picnic, he is introduced to all the town citizens except for one woman sitting off by herself. This redhead draws him to her with merely a gaze.
Can the two outcasts find love and acceptance in each other's arms or will the town’s cruelty and a smallpox epidemic tear them apart?
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Author Bio:
Haley
Whitehall lives in Washington State where she enjoys all four seasons
and the surrounding wildlife. She writes historical fiction and
historical romance set in the 19th century U.S. When she is not
researching or writing, she plays with her cats, watches the Western and
History Channels, and goes antiquing. She is hoping to build a time
machine so she can go in search of her prince charming. A good book, a
cup of coffee, and a view of the mountains make her happy. Visit Haley’s
website at http://haleywhitehall.com.
Where to find Haley Whitehall:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/HaleyWhitehall
Newsletter: https://tinyletter.com/HaleyWhitehall
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