Author: Michael

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Molly
Molly Hester never knew who her parents were.
Her earliest recollections were of the orphanage
where she lived until she ran away for good when
she was fifteen. She had run away several times
only to be brought back, but at fifteen they didn't
want her. She was always a troublemaker, and with
her freckles and red hair which was mostly never
combed she scared the younger kids and was a
constant target for the older ones. She got beat up
all the time but there was something in her that
would never let her give up. Had she been at all
attractive the older boys would have helped her, but
with her gangly stick shape and wildcat demeanor
they left her alone.
She found a home of sorts when a street-kid
named Brent took her to the House, a place where
young girls with no prospects were bought, sold,
and traded. He got some kind of finder’s fee. They
discovered that Molly, who had never had anything
of her own, was one hell of a worker. For a full
belly and clean sheets she could out-work anyone
there. What no one could have predicted, including
Molly, was how attractive she became. At eighteen
she was easily the best looking of any of the girls in
the younger group. She had put on a slight amount
of weight in all the right places, softening her more
angular features. She no longer had to clean and
scrub but only needed to ply the trade for which the
House was famous. She learned how to handle the
different clients, those that needed a mommy and a
shoulder to cry on and those that needed careful
watching, like the mean or crazy drunks. And unlike
most of the girls in the House, she never took to the
drinking or the drugs that ruined so many of them.
Molly didn't know from any first hand
experience how the trade she plied was viewed by
most of the citizens of that frontier town. She was
surviving and after a while prospering. She knew it
was her looks that she traded on and she resolved to
preserve them as long as possible while she tried to
prepare for what came next. She had a lot of time to
herself in the early afternoons and tried to educate
herself. She became a voracious reader and
discovered what a lucrative advantage this could be
amongst her wealthier clients. At great peril to
herself she squirreled away some of the larger tips
she got in a secret bank account which a client had
shown her how to set up.
She considered herself lucky that she hadn't
had to work the line herself for several years and
only had to keep the girls in some kind of order. She
had been given a small part of the action by Lew,
the previous owner of the House, but when he lost it
to Big Jim McCarty over some gambling debt,
things changed for the worse. When she carefully
approached Big Jim on the subject of her share of
the business, he gave her to understand that Lew
had gambled away her part and she was only of use
to him as long as she could take care of the girls or
work the line. Now Big Jim McCarty was a
fearsome creature by any standard. He stood an
honest six foot six and carried a hefty three hundred
and twenty pounds. He knew the effect his
appearance had on people and he used it to great
advantage. He fancied himself a gambler but
intimidation was his real strength. Like her, he came
from the street, but he was far from having any
manners or hygiene. Molly found him to be quite
disgusting but like most sane people she would not
make that an issue to his face.
Even with all that, there was only one aspect
of her daily existence that kept her in constant fear
for her life. She protected the girls as best she could
but some of the clients she had to interact with were
extremely dangerous. These were men who by their
nature gravitated to the wildness and lawlessness of
the frontier. She had been beaten a few times rather
badly. Several times she had been threatened by
men she knew were not bluffing. It was not in her
nature to ignore these situations, not with her fiery
temper. She could be soft and demure to gain
advantage but when threatened she could explode.
Hence the little knit handbag that she always kept
with her. In it she carried the three things most
precious to her: a bank book, a little German-made
straight razor, and her forty-four double-barreled
derringer with two extra loads.
Molly Hester walked up the stairs to the secondfloor
office of Mac Walker, opened the door
without knocking, and sat down. She had seen him
come in earlier.
“Mac, find me a husband.”
Mac Walker was a hulk of a man pushing
fifty with more gray in his hair than he liked,
especially in his mutton-chop beard. He had always
fancied himself a ladies’ man and at one time it
might have been true. He was a natural-born hustler
working any scheme he thought would make a
buck. Molly liked him for his loyalty and sense of
humor.
“Molly, get out of here. I have work to do.”
“I'm serious. Big Jim is ruining everything
at the House.”
“Don't you own a piece of the action?” He
knew she did.
“Evidently not. According to Big Jim, Lew
gambled away my share as well.”
Mac put both elbows on the desk and leaned
as far forward as he could. “I'll marry you, Molly.
You know you only have to ask.”
Molly made a very unladylike gesture to his
face. “There are only a couple of women I would
not mess with in this city and your wife is one!”
Mac sat back and enjoyed the moment. To
have something Molly wanted from him. This
spitfire of a red-head was a legend on the street. To
get past thirty in her business with her looks and
shape still intact was truly remarkable. Her beauty
and temper were renowned. She was rumored to
carry a large-bore derringer in that little handbag
she always had with her, and one time when she
was working the line she cut a man with a razor so
bad he almost bled to death in the room.
“Ok Molly, what is it that you think I can do
for you? You can't be serious about a husband?”
“Come on, Mac. Somewhere in all that crap
you push off on the youngsters you must have come
across a real situation. An older businessman,
someone legit.”
“May be, Molly, but even if I had how
would it play out? I don't have a problem pushing
off a young homely whore on to some lonely
farmer, but in your case. . . ? Now you know I
could fix you up with any number of businessmen
up on Fourth Street. Your own apartment, plenty of
spending money.”
“I'm serious, Mac. You owe me. Find me
something I can work with. I'll take my chances.”
“Your chances? Damn it, Molly, what do
you think will happen when your intended discovers
your—your work history? And discover it they will.
Hell, they might come after me!”
“I've thought of that. If I find the right man
I'll make it work, or walk away if I have to.”
“What brought this on, why now? Looks
like all you have to do is keep the girls in line . . .
And you know Big Jim don't let anyone go easy.
Could be some trouble there. I don't want my name
in any of this.”
“Look, Mac, ever since Big Jim got control
of the House things been going straight to hell.
Every time there is the least little problem with the
girls he threatens to put me back on the line! You
know that's not going to happen—I’ll be dead
before I do that again. But I know he's serious. Get
me a name and location, Mac. If it's righteous you
won't hear from me again. Something west would
be great. If it doesn't pan out I'll head for Denver.”
Mac sat back in his chair and closed his
eyes. “A husband,” he muttered, and again, “a
husband for Molly.” Suddenly he sat straight up in
his chair. “You know, there was a fella come in here
not too long ago, seemed out of place like he knew
he didn't belong . . . where is that paper?” He
began rummaging through some papers on his desk.
“When they pay in advance and don't come after me
right away I figure it's my good luck.” He pulled a
stack of papers from one of the drawers and started
thumbing through them. “Here it is, the only one I
have that would fit your bill. Nice-looking guy of
some means. Didn't look comfortable in this
neighborhood. Paid cash and left like it was a debt
instead of a contract.”
He handed a single piece of paper to Molly
with a stern warning, “Remember, you didn't get
this from me.”
Scrolled across the top in fancy script was
“Contract for Marriage”. Molly looked down the
document and found the name Ethan Alexander on
one line and only Abilene, Kansas for the location.
None of the other spaces were filled in and someone
had written on the bottom “Paid in Full”.
“Is this it? Don't look like much.”
“He was drunk, Molly—not fried, mind you,
but clearly buzzed. Wanted to know about how this
mail order business worked. I told him the usual,
pay up front and with my connections I would find
him a young lady of good character who would
make a fine bride. I gave him my spiel about how
most of my girls came from good families back East
and if perchance either party was not completely
satisfied all he had to do was pay her way back
home. You can tell them lonely hayseeds anything,
but it's hard to get money out of them after they've
been over to your place. This guy was different,
though. Didn't look like he'd been whoring. As I
recall, he was somewhat distraught over a death in
the family. At any rate, he paid the fee and I gave
him a copy of the contract and that was it. Like I
said, when they pay in advance and I don't hear
from them for a while I call it good money. I only
mention it to you because he seemed to be a
gentleman of means and while I can't say for sure
he seemed good-natured.”
Molly filled in several of the spaces on the
contract, folded it, and put it in her handbag. “I'll
have Leroy check on it. Say, how long ago was
this?”
“Five months, give or take.” Mac got up
and walked around to where he was standing over
Molly. “Listen to me, girl, and I mean it in the best
way. Leroy is a good man and your friend but
remember he is a drunk. If Big Jim gets even a hint
of your doing something behind his back . . . you
know how that will go. So you be damn careful!”
“Thanks, Mac, I will.” With that she got up
and left while Mac was still mumbling something
about her not thinking things through like usual.
Molly found Leroy and sent him straight
away on the next train to Abilene to make discreet
inquiries as to the availability and character of Mr.
Ethan Alexander.
Leroy Macy, an ex-Pinkerton detective, was
well known to the denizens of the City of Kansas.
He was known on the street as one mean son-of-abitch
and he was smart. He had been a good
detective. He took small jobs part time and he drank
full time. When sober he was Molly's body guard
whenever she went out and about. He was in love
with Molly but knew that to pursue that he would
have to quit the bottle. Had he known the nature of
Molly's interest in Mr. Alexander, he would never
have done the job for her. He found that Mr. Ethan
Alexander was neither deceased nor married and by
all accounts was of good character, and he reported
such to Molly. She didn't dare tell Leroy what she
wanted with Mr. Alexander, but within a week
Molly put her affairs in order and got on the train
bound for Abilene.