Page 17 of Native Hawk
Chapter 5
It was past midnight, and Catalina was still working—mending a tear in Anne’s petticoat.
Jenny’s accident with the wine tray had robbed two hours out of Catalina’s day. Slivers of crystal had found their way under the furniture and, a few times, into her fingers. The stained carpet had to be rinsed and blotted dry several times. It turned out that Jenny had dribbled ruby wine on her yellow silk dress as well. Only by drenching and blotting it repeatedly with vinegar was Catalina able to lift out the spot.
But there would be no extra time to catch up tomorrow. Her responsibilities filled every waking hour.
She sat sewing by candlelight in her room. Through her door, which was slightly ajar, she could hear men’s voices coming from the salon downstairs. She furrowed her brow. They were very late. The ladies were already tucked into bed with their partners for the evening. There were no prostitutes left.
But that never stopped Miss Hattie from being hospitable. She made a bottle of whiskey and her company available at all hours. As the madam liked to say, you never knew when a lonesome millionaire might come waltzing into The Parlor with more dollars than sense.
Catalina yawned. She couldn’t hear what the two men were talking about. Their conversation was muffled. At one point they raised their voices and seemed to be having a disagreement. She hoped they weren’t expecting to find a companion at this time of night.
She knotted the last stitch three times and snipped off the ends of the thread. Holding the petticoat close to the candle, she examined her handiwork. It should last…at least until one of Anne’s less careful lovers tugged at her drawers a little too eagerly.
Catalina gave her head and the petticoat a brisk shake. She didn’t like to think about such activities, not when they involved her friends. She flipped the thimble off of her finger, draped the petticoat over her shoulder, and wearily rubbed her eyes.
She didn’t wish to disturb Anne and her gentleman caller, so she planned to leave the garment on Anne’s doorknob.
The men were still arguing downstairs. The last thing she wanted was to attract their attention as she crossed the balcony.
She glanced at her bare feet. It was too much trouble to put her boots back on. Besides, she could steal down the hallway more quietly without her shoes. So she rose and slipped carefully out the door.
She glanced down briefly at the salon, just long enough to glimpse Miss Hattie hovering over two black-haired men seated there. Then, tiptoeing along the hallway, she hooked the mended undergarment over Anne’s doorknob.
As she turned to go back, she could hear the men’s conversation. One of them was trying to talk the other out of going somewhere in the middle of the night. While they were distracted, she crossed the balcony and stole back into her room, closing the door softly behind her.
She untied her apron and tossed it over the chair. Her dress followed after. Because of the kind of labor she’d been doing of late, she’d stopped bothering with her usual layers of undergarments, corset, and bustle. She simply stepped out of her single white petticoat, shook it and draped it atop her dress.
She caught her reflection in the mirrored dresser. How much she’d changed since she’d arrived in Paradise in her impeccably tailored cocoa-and-cream ensemble. Clad in only a camisole and drawers, she didn’t look very different from the ladies of the evening.
She rose and took the pins out of her hair, one by one, placing them in the crystal dish on top of the dresser, letting the black curls fall over her shoulders.
Then there was a knock at the door.
It was probably one of the clients who’d gone to the outhouse and returned to the wrong door. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. She’d peer out through a crack in the door. He’d instantly realize his mistake. Then she’d ask him whose room he was looking for and steer him in the right direction.
But when she cracked opened the door, it was Miss Hattie.
Her heart sank. What had she forgotten to do? She’d already undressed. She was exhausted. Couldn’t it wait until the morning?
But Miss Hattie had a curious expression on her face, the same expression she’d had that first day they’d met, as if she were judging Catalina’s character.
“Si?”Catalina asked.
“You’ve been here almost a month, ain’t that right?” she murmured.
“Yes.”
“And you seem to be…fittin’ in real well.”
Catalina tapped impatient fingers on the door. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow? She answered with forced courtesy. “Thank you.”
Miss Hattie chewed at her lip.
Catalina frowned. Miss Hattie was usually quick and clever, but at the moment she was struggling for words. What was bothering her?
Miss Hattie leaned closer to the crack of the door and whispered, “How would you like to make a little extra money?”
