Chapter 2

The dusty street outside was a stark contrast to the intimate scene he had just witnessed. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced in the flickering light of the saloon’s windows. The air was filled with the cacophony of laughter, drunken shouts, and the clink of poker chips. Billy took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the dust of the Old West. He knew he had to get out of the house, to clear his head. He spotted Jimmy, his neighbor and best friend, playing a game of marbles in the alleyway beside the saloon.

Jimmy looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. “Billy, you’re just in time! I found a stray that’s a real go-getter,” he said, holding out a handful of the small, colorful spheres. Billy took them, his thoughts still swirling with the events in the bathroom. They played in silence for a while, the clatter of the marbles on the hard-packed earth grounding Billy in the reality of his adolescence. Jimmy, oblivious to the turmoil within his friend, regaled him with tales of the latest saloon brawl and the mysterious drifter who had bested the town’s biggest bully.

The sky grew darker, a hint of purple and gold at the horizon as the sun set behind the jagged peaks of the distant mountains. “Ma says we gotta make some coin before it gets too dark,” Billy said finally, his voice sounding faraway even to his own ears. “Let’s go shine some shoes.”

Jimmy looked up, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of an adventure. “You bet!” He grabbed Billy’s hand, and the two boys dashed out into the street, their laughter echoing down the alleyway. The saloons were starting to fill up, and the smell of roasting meat and the sound of clinking glasses spilled out onto the sidewalks. They approached the first patron leaning against the hitching post outside the saloon, a burly man with a thick beard and a dusty duster that hung from his broad shoulders.

“Mister,” Billy said, his voice shaking slightly, “Could we shine your boots for a penny?” The man looked down at the boys, his eyes bloodshot from a day’s worth of drinking, and grunted his assent. Jimmy and Billy set to work, their small, calloused hands moving nimbly over the scuffed leather, polishing it to a high shine. The man took a long drag from his cigarette, watching them with a detached curiosity. As they finished, Billy held out his hand, his heart racing at the thought of the coin that might drop into his palm.

The man fished a penny from his pocket and tossed it to Billy, who caught it deftly. “Hold on, young’uns,” he slurred, his breath reeking of whiskey. “I’ll give ya a dollar if ya can take me to the finest brothel in town.” Billy’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Jimmy, who shrugged, his expression a mix of excitement and uncertainty. They had heard the whispered stories of the ‘houses of ill repute’ that lay hidden in the shadows of Whispering Ravine, but they had never set foot inside one.

“Red Flowers,” Billy murmured, the name of the most notorious brothel slipping from his lips. It was said that the women there were the prettiest and that men from all over came to sample their ‘wares.’ Jimmy’s eyes went wide at the mention of the place.

“Ma, Abbie ‘Wild’ Peters, works there,” he blurted out, surprising even himself with the ease of the lie. “But she told me not to come there.”

The man’s gaze sharpened, his interest piqued. “Is that so?” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about this then—you lead me to the Red Flowers and I’ll throw in an extra dollar. But you two gotta stay outside. Deal?”

Billy looked at Jimmy, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The dollar was a fortune to them, but the idea of bringing a strange man to a place where their friend’s mother might be working was unsettling. Yet the allure of the money was undeniable, and the promise of escaping their meager existence for a night was too tempting to resist. They nodded in unison, and the man handed over the coins, heavy with the weight of their decision.

They led him through the town, past the boarded-up general store and the dilapidated schoolhouse that stood as silent sentinels to the town’s former prosperity. The streets grew narrower, the air thick with the scent of sweat, whiskey, and desperation. They approached a nondescript wooden building with a crimson flower painted on the door, the dim light from within casting an eerie glow into the alleyway. The burly man straightened his back, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself for what lay ahead.

Jimmy’s heart hammered in his chest as they stopped outside the Red Flowers, the whispers of his mother’s occupation echoing in his mind. He had heard the men talk about her in hushed voices, calling her ‘Abbie, the Wild One,’ and speaking of her with a mix of awe and disdain. Billy looked at him, his own eyes reflecting a mix of fear and excitement. They had never been this close to the brothel, and the reality of their situation was setting in.

With a trembling hand, Billy pointed to the door. “In there,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Ask for Wild at the counter.”

The burly man’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he handed the boys a crumpled dollar bill with a smack of his palm. “You little rascals,” he chuckled, “you’ve earned your keep.” He stumbled through the door, the sound of his heavy boots on the wooden floorboards inside muffled by the thumping bass of a piano and raucous laughter. The door swung shut, and for a moment, Billy and Jimmy were left standing in the alley, the weight of their deception hanging in the air.

As they began the trek back to their side of town, the dollar bill feeling like a hot stone in Billy’s pocket, he couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at him. “Why your Ma going mad if you come to Red Flowers, Jimmy?”

Jimmy looked at his feet as they kicked up dust with every step. “It’s not that she’s mad, Billy,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion. “It’s just ... she don’t want me to see her like that. Inside, she’s ... she’s gotta do things she ain’t proud of.”

Billy nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “But why?” he pressed, his curiosity outweighing the awkwardness of the topic. “Why you shouldn’t to be there?”

Jimmy took a deep breath, his eyes welling up with tears he tried to fight back. “One day,” he began, his voice small and shaky, “I went looking for Ma. We had no food, and Pa was gone, like always. I had heard of the Red Flowers, but I didn’t know what it really was. I just knew that’s where Ma worked.” He paused, the memory raw and painful. “So, I snuck in, looking for her.” His voice grew quieter, and he swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “I found her alright ... in a room with a couple. The man was ... was fucking her, and she was screaming. But it wasn’t a good scream, Billy.”