Page 3 of A Bride for Brodie

He smiled and steepled his fingers. “You’re welcome. You ladies have earned it. Never a complaint, and always thinking of ways to make the prison better for everyone. I hope you can continue that tradition in your new homes. Now, go change clothes and pack your carpetbags. The prison stagecoach is waiting.”

All the women hurried from the room and back to their cell. There, they found dresses, skirts, blouses, undergarments, everything including new half-boots.

They changed with all speed. Some into their new dresses, as Lottie preferred, and some into the skirt and a blouse. Being in the prison garb for almost three years made these clothes seem like gowns for a ball. She remembered having one burgundy silk dress for her gambling forays in Phoenix. It was beautiful, with a low neckline and fitted to her body like a glove. Nothing like what she wore for every day. It was a dress that made the other gamblers easy marks as they played badly, trying to get a glimpse of her breasts.

The regular clothes she had before were much better than these until all she had was one Sunday dress and one day dress. But she didn’t even have those now and anything was better than the plain, black, wool dress she had to wear as a prisoner.

“What are you taking that old, ugly thing for?” asked Gwen.

Lottie turned to see Fiona packing her old black prison dress.

“I’ll use it as a work dress.”

“You’re crazy. I don’t ever want to see that thing again.” Gwen shook her head, making tendrils of red hair curl around her face.

“I agree with Gwen.” Lottie pointed at her own dress, lying in a heap on the bed. “I never want to wear that again. It will only remind me of where I was, and I have enough memories to do that.”

Fiona shrugged. “If I decide I don’t want it, I can burn it when we get there.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re nuts.” She finished packing by throwing her deck of cards into her bag. She always had a pack of cards. She’d done a little gambling in prison, winning extra blankets for her and her friends. Or winning so she could get out of some chore she hated. She needed to keep up with her skills. After all, she never knew when she’d have to leave and make a living for herself, and she wasn’t going back to being a maid. That didn’t get her anywhere.

Her mind took her back to the cabin with her father. Her fists were clenched and her breathing was shaky. He was coming after her with a belt, the one he’d used so many times before. But not today. She would not let him beat her today. She’d done nothing wrong. Nothing. She grabbed his holster, pulled the pistol out, and shot him dead as he raised his arm with the belt in it.

It was over. All of it was over. Her father could never abuse her again. Never berate her, never beat her, never tell her how stupid she was. Well, she wasn’t stupid. She knew she had to bury him, so she left and spent the next day-and-a-half digging a grave. Then she dragged his body out of the cabin and rolled him into the grave. Covering him with dirt, she patted it down as much as she could with the shovel. She left it level with the surrounding ground and scattered the leftover dirt around the property.

Next, she cleaned up the blood in the cabin. After that, she realized she’d been up for nearly three days, and her body was suddenly more tired than she’d ever been. She’d lain down on her bed and slept for a full day.

When she finally awoke, she ate and then packed up her things, such as they were, before heading to Maisie’s place about a day’s ride away in Prescott.

When she arrived at Maisie’s place, her sister let her inside, but even after hearing what happened, Maisie didn’t ask Lottie to stay. Now Lottie knew why, and she thanked Maisie for refusing her.

Lottie had what little money she could find in her father’s hidey-hole, the one he thought was a secret. Between that and the money on him, she came up with twenty dollars.

She’d have to live on that until she could find a job.

The first thing she did was pay for a bath at the bathhouse, where she scrubbed her body and her hair as hard as she could. She also washed the dress she’d been wearing as she worked to bury her father. She needed it to be clean. Lottie had one other dress, her Sunday-go-to-meeting dress, even though they never went, she had a dress she kept for it. It had been her mother’s from before she died and before her father went insane. When things were still good.

After the bath, she paid for a room at the boarding house for a week. She’d hoped to find a job by then as a live-in maid.

Lottie enjoyed being at the boarding house. The place was clean, a hundred times nicer than the cabin she’d grown up in, and the food was wonderful and plentiful.

She found work in the biggest hotel in town, The Prescott Hotel, and became a maid. She’d lived at the boarding house and worked at the hotel. She made little more than what it cost her to live at the boarding house. That job lasted about two months before the owner of the hotel cornered her and tried to kiss her. Lottie fought him off, went to his wife, and quit immediately. She knew he would eventually try to seduce her. She’d been warned, but she hoped Fiona was wrong. She’d stayed out of his way as much as possible, but he’d still tried to kiss her and more.

After quitting the hotel, she’d found work as a live-in maid to Mrs. Albert Haynes. She was nice and seemed to like Lottie. She wasn’t worried about her husband finding Lottie too attractive, because he already had a mistress. The man basically ignored Lottie, though she caught him watching her a time or two.

The horrors in her life were caused by Seamus MacSheehy’s love of money. Nothing was more important to him than money. That’s why he sold Maisie…for the love of money above family.

Lottie could never be with a man who loved money more than family.

Soon, all of them were packed and headed out to the coach. After two-and-a-half years here, the only thing she would miss was holidays with the warden and Mrs. Dean. She was a lovely woman and always made them feel at home.

Lottie hoped holidays with her new husband’s family would be as happy for her.

Lottie watched the stagecoach to Prescott pull in just a few minutes after the prison stage headed back. The prison stagecoach was unmarked, so no one they passed would have any idea where it came from. Already her life was changing.

The ride to Prescott was uneventful except for one stop where she ate the best beans she’d ever tasted. She also made a couple of friends at that stop. They all did. Kind people Lottie wouldn’t soon forget. That stop was the only one where they’d actually been able to refresh themselves.

Lottie couldn’t believe the dirt that had come off her face and neck. Even though she knew the clean feeling wouldn’t last for long, she appreciated it nonetheless.