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remember your goal, Amelia,” Loretta said gently as she patted the girl’s arm. “Now let’s go inside and look at that material.”
    It was true that Jack Coulter wanted his girls to look good both inside and outside his establishment.
    He considered himself a benevolent brothel owner, providing unreported medical care should any of his girls be beaten up, contract a disease or accidentally become pregnant. Considering that Loretta and the other girls serviced him for no charge in exchange for his medical treatment, she wasn’t sure “Doc”
    Southard was even a real doctor. Jack hired a seamstress to keep them all well clothed and provided more than enough food and drink for their comfort.
    He knew where his bread was buttered, but he still didn’t countenance any back talk from any of them, including Loretta. It was also true she was his favorite and he rarely visited the other girls in his establishment. During the day Jack spent time with his wife and children, returning to his business only in the evenings. He was a handsome man with a smooth way of talking his way out of any situation and into any woman’s bed.
    Loretta knew she would have to keep Amelia from complaining very much. She had seen what happened when Jack lost his temper. It had been enough to keep Loretta in line more than once, no matter how much Jack enjoyed being in her bed. If Jack actually paid for her services she could have already been gone. Just a few more months, that was all she needed. The boost in her savings, thanks to the generosity of Jo Barclay the week before, brought her even closer to the realization of her plans to leave St Joseph. She didn’t trust the other girls enough to let them in on her plans and wished she hadn’t said anything to Amelia. The girl was obviously terrified and would do anything to save her own neck.
    Amelia and Loretta browsed through the mercantile, talking and giggling as they went. Loretta chose to ignore the glaring looks from the wife of the dry goods owner. Her money was as good as anyone else’s and she frankly didn’t care what other people in St. Joe said about her behind her back. She tried to resist, but kept returning to the material in the front window.
    “May I help you?” a shrill voice behind her asked.
    Smiling thinly at the woman’s severe face, Loretta said, “Yes, although I’m sure you’d rather not. How much is this material?”
    “Two dollars a yard,” the woman replied.
    “For everyone or just for me?”
    “It’s imported from Europe.”
    “For that price someone must have swam it over here on their back,” Loretta said, causing a giggle to escape from Amelia.
    “Wh…,” the woman began.
    “But it looks like a fabric befitting a lady,” Loretta said quietly. “I’ll take two yards. And make sure you measure it accurately, please. I wouldn’t want to have to return for more and upset your delicate sensibilities.”
    Loretta walked away as the woman pulled the bolt of fabric from the window and carried it toward a cutting table. She was muttering to herself as she unrolled the fabric from the bolt.
    “Excuse me,” a soft voice said, interrupting her mumbling.
    “What?” the storekeeper’s wife asked curtly.
    The tone of the woman’s voice startled Hettie and she took a step back.
    “I’m sorry, my dear. What can I do for you?” the storekeeper’s wife asked more pleasantly when she saw the bookish-looking woman staring at her.
    “Do you have any scented soaps here?” Hettie asked quietly.
    “Yes. We just received a new shipment a few days ago with some lovely new fragrances. Jasmine is a new one. Let me show you where they are.”
    Abandoning the bolt of material, the older woman led the way to the far end of the store.
    The owner of the mercantile stepped from the back storage room carrying a box of goods and set them on the counter. Loretta glanced up from the patterns on a nearby rack and smiled. Rounding the counter he walked up behind the