Starla Bulette Has Arrived

The pale yellow envelope of the unopened telegram contrasted the cherry wood side table it laid atop. Starla assumed it was one of her politicians forewarning their arrival and procuring his favorite girl for the week he’d be in town. She tried to recall the excitement a telegram used to incite as she walked past and out the door.

           Starla Bulette had arrived. She had tracked down a wagon train headed West, negotiated her transportation, and made her way across the miles of unclaimed terrain, barren of civilization but heavily pregnant with Native American tribes. She had fought off two attacks alongside her train mates and found her way back to the train three days later after being abducted by a Comanche. When the heel of her boot crunched the Virginia City gravel as she stepped off that wagon, she vowed her boots would never climb back up in one.

           Bulette chuckled. Had she only known the getting to Nevada was the easy part.

“Evenin’!” Walton Madson called out as he removed his crumpled up hat while stepping onto the porch. It barely had any form left to it and looked as pitiful as the mangy dog trailing behind him.

“Evenin’ Walt.” Starla smirked as she looked out onto The Main. It was unusually busy. The people were all vying for the protection from the midday August sun by slowing their pace underneath the shadows cast by porches and awnings resulting in human traffic jams.

           “What’s going on?”

He replaced the brown lump to it’s place on his matted head. “I don’t rightly know but there’s been talk that the Morrison claim hit and he needs panners.” He scratched the dog behind its scaly ear.

           Starla raised a brow. Her and her girls were always the first to know of any such luck. They were the place of pillow talk after all.

“Walt?”

“Yes, Miss Starla?”

“Walk me to Joe’s for a drink?”

He stuck out his worn patched elbow and she took it. Starla had heard that when you live with someone long enough you start to look like them, “Walt, how long you had that dog?”

Joe’s was packed. Starla knew it before they made it onto his porch from the sound and the smell that met her two doors down. Miner’s sweat has a distinct smell. A nauseating blend of sweetness from the whiskey and bitter from the disappointment.

Standing room only, at least for poor Walt. They made their way to the bar as miner’s tipped their hats and saloon girls scowled. Starla ignored them as Walt smiled his toothless grin at the attention. A former regular at Starla’s gave his stool for her and Walt found a card game to lose in.

           “Oh, no. What’re you doing here? You ain’t tryna steal some more of my business are ya?” Joe teased as he filled a glass and slid it to her.

“Now Joe. You know I don’t steal anything. I merely provide a different level of service at my establishment.” She smiled over the rim of her glass.

“Too good a service.” He rolled his eyes, “I will say this though, it doesn’t take long before they’re back here because they can’t afford there.” He smirked.

“Quality costs.” She shrugged.

“Hey, I’m not knocking you. You ain’t just looks Starla Bulette. You got brains too. I just wish they was used in another industry. Preferably one I ain’t in.” He laughed and started back down the bar filling glasses.

           She lifted her glass to take another sip when a shove from behind forced it down her bust. Starla gave a silent, deep exhale as she stood while Joe and his patrons fumbled with bar rags and hankies to provide the damsel in distress. Desperate to be the hero, one miner offered the shirt off his back.

           Starla Bulette was no damsel in need of rescuing. She nodded to the heroic masses and turned to face her perpetrator. It was Nellie O’Neele. The busty Irish woman’s fiery eyes that matched her hair were fixed on Starla.

“’Scuse you, ma’am.”

“You’re pardoned.” Starla pulled a lace trimmed hanky from her wrist and dabbed her bust dry.

“I didn’t ask for forgiveness.” Nellie snapped as she turned to walk away.

Starla continued to dab her dress dry as the saloon grew quiet and all leaned in to witness the exchange.

“What is this about Nell? Are you still harboring ill thoughts towards me for letting you go?”

Nellie stopped and looked over her shoulder at the woman she once thought to be a friend.

“No. You don’t see me hanging out on your porch.”

Starla tucked her hanky back into her sleeve and pulled a coin from her purse, “Thanks, Joe.” She placed the coin on the bar and weaved her way back to the swinging doors of the saloon.

           Walt caught up with her outside. “I’m sorry about your dress Miss Starla.” He offered his elbow again.

“Oh, that’s alright Walt. I’ve got another one due to arrive any day now from San Francisco.” They strolled down The Main towards her place.

 “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask but I’m not obliged to answer.” She elbowed him and smiled.

He giggled, “Fair. But why did you let Miss Nellie go?”

She paused and then sighed, “She was drinking so much that her, how can I say it kindly, performance was lacking. So much so her customers wanted their money back. Her renowned third nipple may have gotten curious men in the door but eventually her performance reviews got around and I couldn’t even get a passerby to use her.”

It seemed to Starla, both Walt and his dog shook their heads.

           The sound of a stage coach coming behind them caused them to stop. Odd, the stage coach is set to arrive on Wednesdays and today is Saturday. The unexpected coach had caught the attention of most everyone on The Main, some even coming out of the various store fronts.

           The driver stopped the coach at its usual spot in front of the general store and opened the door. From where they stood Starla couldn’t see who had emerged. The driver retrieved a suitcase from the rack and delivered it to whomever stood on the other side of the coach. The coach finally pulled away and Starla was jerked back into a simpler time. A softer time when her hair curled without the help of hot iron rods and dresses didn’t require girdles. A slower time when ribbons garnished her hair and not her thigh. A sweeter time when the scent of wildflowers filled her home and not the newest perfume from Paris.

           Tears began to prick her eyes. She had never been grateful for the dusty main but she sure was now. “Well ain’t she a sight for sore eyes.” Walt gazed at the little girl who stood alone across The Main. An image of innocence and goodness out of place amongst this godforsaken hell hole. Walt’s dog trotted over as if he was the official greeter of Hell Hole. The girl smiled.

           Starla rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, “This ain’t no place for a child. I hope she finds her folks.”

Once back in the privacy of her own brothel, Starla began the painstaking process of bookkeeping. It may be all fun and games for the men but it was business as usual for the women. She had just finished tallying the visits for each girl from the day prior when she heard a knock at the door. Must be the Sheriff or Walt, they’re the only ones in town who’s mommas raised them right. She didn’t want to discourage such fine raising so instead of hollering, “Come on in!” She answered the door.

           To her surprise it was neither Walt or the sheriff. It was the youngest Brady boy who worked at the general store. Starla was encouraged to know there was at least one other momma who was raising her boy right.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you ma’am but my Momma said to ask you to come to the store.”

“Ok, it’s probably my dress. I’ll be right over. Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Starla tidied up her desk and headed to the store. As she got closer she was relieved to see the girl gone from the street. She hadn’t felt the need to cry since one of her best girls, Louisa Marionette, married off to a U.S. Marshal.

The bell rang overhead as she came through the door. “Be right with you.” Mrs. Brady called from the back.

Starla perused the shelves as she waited. A glass jar full of red and white swirled cowboy candy sat atop the counter. Starla reminisced her first kiss with her beau, Johnnie Bast. Barely into her womanhood he had become a hired hand on her Daddy’s farm. He was beautiful and infatuated with her. That minty kiss cooled and heated her up at the same time so she chased that sensation all the way to Nevada.

           “Hello.” Mrs. Brady interrupted her perusing.

“Hello. I believe you have my dress?”

“No. Did you not receive a telegram recently? I sent my boy to deliver it the other day but he said you were out so he left it on the foyer table.”

“Yes, I saw it but hadn’t a chance to open it yet.”

Mrs. Brady pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry. What’s it in regards to?” Starla chortled. She knew how Mrs. Brady felt about her establishment. She couldn’t blame her. Starla figured she probably wouldn’t care for the woman responsible for her husband’s empty side of the bed either.

Mrs. Brady huffed and lifted the hinged counter top, “Come back here.”

Starla’s hesitancy warranted another command, “Well come on now this ain’t light.” Starla obliged and followed Mrs. Brady to the back storage room.

           In the corner of the dimly lit room laid the little girl that stood aside the road earlier.

“Poor thing cried herself to sleep.” Starla stared at her. Her chestnut hair and braids disheveled Her rosy cheeks tear stained. Her light blue gingham dress dusted with red dirt. Compassion welled up inside her but logic quickly challenged it. “Mrs. Brady, I don’t mean to sound crass but what does all of this have to do with me? I run a brothel. Not a boarding house.”

Mrs. Brady almost had to tear her eyes off the sleeping beauty. “She’s what the telegram’s about. She’s your niece.”

           Starla’s breath shortened. Memories of her childhood came flooding back. Images of her younger sister Marie’s chestnut curls bouncing as she skipped across the back pasture in the Spring. Marie’s hazel eyes opened wide as they caught lightning bugs on the banks of the Mississippi Delta. Marie crying and begging her to stay as Starla climbed through their bedroom window to what she thought would be love and freedom.

“Wh-what? Why? I mean, why is she here?” Starla watched as the child’s chest rose and fell gently in peaceful sleep.

Mrs. Brady’s demeanor changed from frustration to something else, remorse perhaps, and Starla feared what she was about to say.

“Well. From piecing together what your niece has told me it seems your sister has come down with puerperal fever after delivering a stillborn baby boy. Your brother-in-law has sent little Katie here to stay with you until Marie is well.”

           Starla’s comprehension slowed to a creep after the diagnosis of puerperal fever rang in her ears. Sweet Marie. Destined to die the same painful way their mother had after birthing Marie. Starla had become like a mother to Marie without her consent. She never resented Marie for it. Only their mother Ann for dying, and then soon, she forgave her too. Kate looked to be about seven, the same age as Marie was that night Starla played the young love-stricken fool.

           Starla stooped down, scooped the girl into her arms and held her close. Kate nuzzled into her embrace.

“Get her home into bed. I’ll send her things by my boy.” Mrs. Brady brushed a curl from Kate’s cheek.

Starla nodded.

Months went by and Starla found herself struggling to juggle entertainment and being an example for young Kate. She was more protective of Kate than she ever was of Marie. Perhaps because she had seen the depravity of man. Her patrons were beginning to grumble about the noise restrictions Starla had implemented since Kate’s arrival.

It all came to a head when late one evening after celebrating the uncovering of another vein, one of Morrison’s cackler’s came into Starla’s and attempted an advance on Kate. Starla cracked him over the head with a porcelain wash basin and Walt drug him out.

“What’re you gonna do Miss Starla?” Walt leaned against the porch as Starla rocked in the wooden rocking chair. Walt had always been a safe place for Starla. Sure, he drank and gambled too much but he was the closest thing to family that she had and he loved Kate. Kate loved him, and his mangy dog, too.

She rocked on for a while before answering, “What am I supposed to do?” She hoped Walt could make the decision for her. Make it easy. Clear as day.

Walt blew out a raspberry so hard Starla worried he would lose another tooth. He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well. You said it the day we saw lil’ Katie-bug standing across The Main. This ain’t no place for a child…So ways I figures it, eithers she goes or ya’ll’s goes together. But she can’t stay here.”

Starla hadn’t heard of her sister’s condition. Whether she had mended or entered into eternal rest. Starla felt like she herself was living both. She couldn’t deny Kate had brought joy, even excitement, back into her life but she was watching the life of her business fade. People are fickle. She was held in high esteem by the men in town. Now she was merely tolerated. Some of her girls left town for San Francisco, saying work was drying up but Starla suspected the innocence of Kate hurt too much. For she too would be overcome by emotions at times but Kate’s arms wrapping around her seemed to comfort the little girl inside.

Kate came barreling out the door. Walt straightened and his dog shot up, “Katie-bug! What has gotten into you girl! You tryna kill me dead here on this porch?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I was just scared. I woke up and Aunt Starla was gone.”

“Oh, darlin’. Come here.” Starla took Kate in her lap and rocked her.

“Tell me the story of the lightning bugs again.” Kate rested her head on her Aunt’s chest and listened to the rhythm of her heart that matched the rocking of the chair.

“It was a hot, sticky June night on the banks of the Delta and the bullfrogs and the tree frogs were having a singing contest…” Kate was already asleep.

Starla continued rocking and studying Kate’s face a while longer after Walt and his dog went on home.

The morning sun brought mental clarity and Starla dressed in the dress she’d ordered long before Kate arrived. Unknowingly saving it for this day. She stepped out onto The Main and back into the high regards of the menfolk. Compliments and smiles paved her way as she walked to the saloon. Joe’s hadn’t opened up yet but there were a few men at the bar.

“Joe. I’d like to speak to you.” She wasted no time for she knew she was teetering on backing out.

Confused, Joe answered, “Sure thing. Follow me.”

They made their way to his office.

“Kate! Katie-bug! Where are you girl?”

“I’m here. I’m coming!” Kate appeared at the top of the stairs dragging her suitcase behind her.

“Good! Come on girl or we’re gonna be late.” Starla waved her on as she grabbed her own bags.

Walt came up the stairs and grabbed Kate’s suitcase, “Here. Let me get it. Go help your Aunt.”

           The three of them hurried down The Main to the General Store and Walt stood outside with Kate as Starla went inside to purchase the tickets.

           Starla came out to find Nellie O’Neele standing with Kate and Walt. Starla painted on a smile. She didn’t want any trouble.

“Where are you going?” Nellie shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“Back to Mississippi.”

“Joe just told me that he bought your place. Said you told him about my cooking. He’s gonna let me try my hand at running a boarding house for him.”

Starla nodded, “You’ll do well. It’s not anything we have here.”

They stood silent until Nell chirped a quick, “Thank you.” As she walked away.

Hugs and tears were shared between the trio before Walt hoisted Kate up into the coach. He was about to do the same to Starla when she stopped him.

“What?”

“Just hold still.” She leaned on him as she unlaced her boots. Slipping them off she handed them to him.

He laughed, “What’re you doing woman?”

Looking over her shoulder she answered with a wink, “I made a vow my boots wouldn’t ever climb up in another coach…”

A few connecting coaches and one boat ride later brought them to the familiar port of The Delta. A friendly river boat captain with an accent that felt like home announced, “Alright, Folks. You have arrived.” And in that moment, Kate’s hand wrapped in hers with the sound of singing bullfrogs and tree frogs filling her ears, Starla Bulette realized she had truly arrived.