River

Mason

Natchez-Under-the-hill has changed in the two or three months since I left. There’s some kind of dock project going on. I see timber stacked along the edge, and more activity than usual. Workers are bustling around, not just the normal offloading of the supplies shipped by flatboat. It looks like they are expanding the pier. They are building some sort of huge frame with timber and ropes alongside the edge of the dock. The place seems quite a bit busier than it did last time I was here.

I lean idly against the wall of one of the taverns for a few minutes, getting my bearings and looking around at everything. I don’t recognize any of the fellows I see working out here, so I go in to see if I can find Stu or any of the other folks I think might be open to joining me.

I stroll into the tavern closest to me and still can’t find anybody I know. The tavern seems quite empty. Well, it is still early in the morning, everybody is probably doing their work first. I wonder if I should check in the other taverns, but who am I kidding? I know exactly where I actually want to go, now that I’m here.

In two minutes I am walking into the front door at Madam Beverly’s brothel. It looks just the same, at least, the changes outside haven’t reached here. There are a few whores lounging around the parlor waiting for customers, but I don’t see the one I want. Beverly comes into the parlor from a back room when she hears the door open. When she sees me her eyes widen a bit, but she does not greet me as she used to.

She has apparently forgotten how to provide what I want. So I have to tell her. “Rosy,” I say, annoyed at having to specify. She should remember this.

Her lips tighten. “Rosy is not here. May I offer one of my other ladies?” I see them look around at each other, but they don’t come forward like they should. I suppose Rosy has complained about me to them. She’ll pay for that.

I ignore her offer. “Where is she?”

“She is no longer at this establishment.”

“Which one is she at, then?”

She is being quite uppity, not as accommodating as she used to be.

“At none. She has gone away. Would you like another of my ladies?”

Well, as long as I’m here. It won’t be as satisfying as dominating that foreigner’s whore, but I still have needs. I’ll make do.

I point to one at random. “That one.” I pull the necessary coins out of my pocket and hand them to the Madam.

“Jenny,” Beverly instructs her, “take this gentleman to the red room.”

The girl’s eyes seem to widen slightly in fear, and she walks slowly to me, reluctantly. Perhaps this will be satisfying after all.

Jenny

I hope that she can forgive me. I wouldn’t have told him, but it was all he wanted to know about. Where is Rosy, he asked, and when I didn’t answer right away he started treating me just the way that I knew he treated her. I didn’t get it as bad as her, but I ended the night just as she always did. Crying, covered with bruises, aching inside and out. She was right to call him a beast.

I wish that I could take it back though. When I told him that she had left, that wasn’t enough for him. I had to tell him that she had gotten married. When he demanded who she married, and I told him it was Gregor, his face became red with fury. He finished with me quickly, but not without more pain. He left me in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Beverly is waiting for me in the parlor when I come down the stairs, wiping my eyes with my hands. She looks at me, evaluating my expression, then leads me into the back room. She wouldn’t want me in the parlor in this condition.

“Sit down,” she tells me, and when I sit at the little vanity where we prepare ourselves, she dips a washcloth into the basin of water and hands it to me. I start using it to wipe my face, trying to clean off the tears. “He hurt you, too?” she asks. I don’t think she is that concerned about me being hurt, as long as nothing really bad happened, but she likes to keep track of what is happening here. “Like Rosy?”

I nod, sniffling, and pick up a brush to try to untangle my hair. The beast had pulled and wrenched it so much that it looks like a rat’s nest. The brush pulling on my hair hurts the sore spots he left on my scalp, and it makes me wince.

“Anything else?” she asks me, extracting the brush from my hand and taking over the task herself. Her touch is very gentle, and I close my eyes for a moment, appreciating the kind attention.

“He…” I stop, not wanting to confess my failing.

“He what?”

“He made me tell him where Rosy is,” I confess, staring at the floor in shame. I glance up and see her face grow sterner. “I’m sorry, Madam, I tried not to tell him, but he kept at me, and I didn’t want him to hurt me any worse. I had to tell him.” I gingerly move my hand across my side, where he left a tender area when he grabbed me and threw me on the floor.

She nods, sighing. “I understand. Take a few minutes to collect yourself, clean up, then come back into the parlor.”

Mason

Damn Gregor. Ruining everything as usual. He actually married that whore? I had gotten myself all worked up thinking about the things I would do to her, only to find her gone.

At least I got some satisfaction from the other one. The thinner one. It wasn’t as good as knowing that I had his woman under my control, but it was a reasonable substitute. It was at least gratifying to force the information out of her. She told me they live up in the town on the hill, and that Gregor comes and works at the docks. Apparently he’s involved in that dock expansion project I saw. Not today, though, I can see he isn’t anywhere about. I would recognize him, I am sure, even though it has been a few months since I saw his smug face.

I consider my options. The day is wearing on, the work on the docks winding down. I could sleep off to the side of the dock like I used to, but I don’t want to linger too long. I wouldn’t want Gregor to come when I wasn’t ready. I will get ready, that is for sure. I’m not done with him yet, or his whore. I don’t care if he thinks she is his wife now. I know what she is.

I’m getting ready to give up here and head back up the Trace before finding a spot to sleep for the night, but first I want to stop into the Kentucky Tavern to get a little drink, some food to take with me.

I am very pleased to see my old friend Stu inside. I didn’t see him go past - he must have arrived while I was inside at Beverly’s.

“Stu!” I greet him, and join him at the table where he is sitting nursing a whiskey. His dirty hair has gotten long and scraggly, falling into his eyes. His beard reaches his chest.

“Mason, long time no see. Where’ve you been? New Orleans this whole time?”

“Nah, I went down there on the boat but I didn’t stay. I decided the Trace would be more profitable.”

“Oh?”

I look around to make sure nobody is nearby, listening to us. It is noisy enough in here that I think we can talk without being overheard.

“I have a proposition for you, Stu. A way for you to make a lot more money than you can here at the docks.”

“Is that so,” he says. “I’m all ears.”

“I’m back in business, doing what you and I did together a few years ago.”

“You mean…?”

“Yeah. I’ve been up on the Trace, relieving dandies of their wallets. I’ve made quite a stash.” I pull out my wallet and open it just wide enough for him to see the money I have within, then put it back into my jacket pocket. He whistles, low, under his breath. I go on, “I have a couple of other fellows that work with me sometimes, but I think that you and I could come up with some pretty good schemes. We used to plan some great things together.”

I lean back, take a drink of my whiskey, and wait for him to process what I have just told him.

He takes another drink as well. “I don’t know, Mason, it’s been years since I got up to anything like that.”

“You enjoying your boring life? All unloading flatboats and lifting boxes?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. But I suppose I’ve gotten used to it.”

I think I have to give him some time. He isn’t ready yet, and I need to make sure he is fully on board if he is going to join me.

“Well,” I tell him, “I’m heading back up to the Trace tonight. Give it some thought. I’ll be back Under-the-hill in a few days. Maybe you’ll have gotten tired of drudgery by then.”

“Mmmm,” he growls in response, thinking.

I finish my drink in one swallow and slam my glass down on the table. I pick up the bread and cheese that I bought and stow it in my bag. “Goodbye then, Stu, I’ll be back. Keep an eye out.”