Page 7 of Native Hawk
“It won’t be much,” Miss Hattie warned. “I can give you a dollar a day to start, plus room and board.”
Catalina thanked her enthusiastically, hiding her disappointment. At a dollar a day, it would take almost three months to make enough for a sewing machine.
Still, she was grateful. It wasn’t such a long time to wait when it came to realizing her dream.
She was proud of the fact she’d landed her first job and in such a beautiful house. She’d do whatever it took to buy that sewing machine, even if it meant doing clerical work, such as keeping Miss Hattie’s household accounts, writing correspondence, managing her servants.
“You’ll start with the housekeepin’,” Miss Hattie told her, “washin’ laundry, polishin’ furniture, waxin’ floors.”
The smile froze on Catalina’s face. Those were not just menial tasks. They were servant’s work. And yet, what had she said? Whatever it took.
Miss Hattie added, “So I hope you have some plainer clothes to wear. It’d be a shame to ruin—”
From upstairs, a door swung open with a loud creak. Catalina looked up. Emerging to lean on the balustrade was a curvy woman with bright gold hair, clad in nothing but her camisole and drawers.
“Betsy!” Miss Hattie called up. “You’re up early.”
Betsy yawned and scratched between her ample breasts. “Casey took off around midnight last night.” Her eyes roved over Catalina. “Who’s this?”
“New girl,” Miss Hattie said.
Just then, a second door opened. Another woman came out. This one, a brunette, was dressed in just a corset. When she turned with a laugh to drag her male companion out of the room, he slapped her bare bottom with his palm, and the woman shrieked.
Catalina’s fingers tightened on her coffee cup.
“Jesse!” the brunette scolded with a giggle. “You stop that!”
He pinched her buttock, making her squeak. Then he put on his hat. “Next Friday?”
Miss Hattie called up to him, “As long as you got the gold, sweetheart!”
One by one, the doors along the balcony opened. Men of various social standing, judging by their attire, emerged from the rooms. Some of them grinned and tipped their hats to all the ladies before tromping down the stairs. Some of them shuffled away like shadows, their hats pulled prudently over their brows.
The ladies mingled on the balcony, as if chatting in their corsets in public was perfectly acceptable. A few of them lit cigarettes and began puffing away. Most distressing to Catalina, between them, they probably wore less than seven yards of fabric.
Catalina couldn’t budge. She felt like a fool. How could she not have realized this was abordello?If she’d thought the town was scandalized by her bustle, what would they think of her working in such a place?
But it was too late to refuse Miss Hattie’s offer. Catalina needed the money. Besides, she thought, staring at all the half-naked ladies on the balcony, they looked like they could use a good seamstress.
She’d just have to be cautious. She didn’t dare let the upstanding women of Paradise know she was employed at abordello.Her reputation as a dressmaker might suffer.
She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. Whatever it took, she thought again. She supposed she should be thankful Miss Hattie hadn’t hired her to do…what the ladies did.
