Several moans, sighs, and gasps followed. Men patted their wives’ hands as they sobbed into handkerchiefs. The saloon women stood en masse and left the hall, no doubt feeling uneasy at finding themselves so close to the church.
Jesse left Tori’s side to speak with Caleb Johnson, who continued to glance at his pocket watch.
“Caleb, I’ll take care of figuring the damages for each man and collect the money. You’ll have a check in less than thirty days.”
“No need, young man.” Mr. Boswell’s booming voice echoed through the hall, drawing everyone’s attention as he slapped Jesse on the back, almost knocking him off his feet.
“In view of the fact my dear wife organized, without a permit,”—he scowled at Mrs. Boswell, sitting stiff-necked in the third row—“this disastrous march for decency, I shall assume all costs with regard to fines and damages. Even your girls.”
Pastor Dave jumped up. “No, we can’t allow that, sir, all our wives were involved.”
“No, Pastor, I insist. I’ve already received the list from the court clerk, and I will send a check with my man immediately.”
Jesse shook Mr. Boswell’s hand and turned to help Tori. The walking wounded and their husbands left the hall to return to the homes the judged had ordered them to stay in.
A hefty blond whore lingered outside the church hall and, hand on her hip, sauntered over to Jesse. “Why don’t you stop in for a drink some night, Lawyer? Free of charge.”
He shook his head and grabbed Tori by the collar of her shirtwaist as she started toward the woman, murder in her one good eye.
Once they settled in the carriage, he headed away from the crowd leaving the church hall and steered the horses to the street.
“Very nice of Mr. Boswell to offer to pay all the fines and damages.” Tori peeked through her swollen black eye.
“No, darlin’, merely self-interest.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Boswell is the best customer Johnson has, and the girls love his big tips when he visits upstairs at least twice a week.”
Tori stared open-mouthed, a blush rising from her neckline. “You mean Mrs. Boswell’s husband is a patron of The Bottomless Bucket?”
“Yep. I’m sure he and Johnson are sharing a drink right now.”
“How do you know that?”
“Darlin’, everyone in town knows it.”
“Oh, poor Mrs. Boswell. No wonder she wanted to close the place.”
He snorted his opinion.
Once her bruises and scratches healed, Tori continued with the project of decorating Jesse’s house. He took her out to supper several nights, but sometimes he coerced her into cooking in the new kitchen. She always referred to it as his kitchen, but he preferred our kitchen.
Jesse took her hand after one of their suppers and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “When are you going to move back home?”
She pulled her hand away and jumped up to clear the table. “I can’t talk about this.”
“No, no. Sit down, honey. We need to talk.”
With shaky fingers worrying the buttons on her shirt, she took her seat.
“Our house is coming together, due to your hard work. You love cooking in our kitchen. You spend more time here than you do next door. Why not pack your clothes and come back?”
“I can’t.”
“I’m trying to be patient here, honey, but why not?” His soothing voice probed further.
“I told you, I can’t take a chance on getting pregnant again.”