Two Brothers by Linda Lael Miller

ought to be a law.”
    Nearby, a red-eyed cowboy with bad teeth slammed down his china mug. “I need more coffee,” he barked. “Right now.”
    The marshal took the large blue enamel coffeepot from Aislinn’s hand with easy grace and refilled the cowboy’s cup, bending low to speak to him. “What you need,” he said mildly, “is a lesson in manners. Talk to the lady that way again, and you’ll get one that’ll stick with you till your dying day.”
    The other man backed down, but he didn’t look happy about it.
    “Thank you,” Aislinn said uncertainly, taking back the coffeepot.
    “Anytime,” said the marshal, and left the dining hall. A glance around the room showed that every woman in the place, whether serving or being served, watched him go. Including Eugenie, though her expression was markedly different from those of the others.
    “What do you suppose has gotten into him?” she inquired, under her breath, when Aislinn passed her on the way back to the kitchen for another pot of coffee.
    “I don’t know,” Aislinn answered honestly, “but I think I like him a little better than I did yesterday.” For the first time since she’d come to Prominence to work, she found herself lamenting that she couldn’t go to the hotel dance. Now that the marshal had apparently lost that irritating ability to slay her with a single, lopsided smile, she wasn’t so eager to avoid him.
    Sometime during the busy clean-up process between breakfast and dinner, Liza Sue must have seen her chance and slipped downstairs, for when Aislinn went into the kitchen for a rest and a cup of tea, the other woman was there, seated primly across the trestle table from Eugenie, lying like a snake-oil salesman. She’d been in Prominenceawhile, she said, staying with relations, but she’d worn out her welcome and they couldn’t keep her anymore. The bruises? Yes, well, she was some marked up, wasn’t she? She’d caught her toe in the hem of her dress while going after a jar of apricot preserves and fallen right down the cellar stairs. It was a lucky thing she hadn’t broken her neck.
    Eugenie listened inscrutably, and pondered for a while. Aislinn knew then that she didn’t believe the story; Eugenie had made her own way in the world for a great many years, and by her own admission, she’d “come up hard,” with no folks to speak of. She glanced Aislinn’s way once, making it known that she was nobody’s fool, and then cleared her throat.
    “Well, girl,” she said to Liza Sue, “if you don’t mind making up beds and emptying slop jars of a morning, there’s a place for you here. You’ll have your room and board and four dollars a month. We’ll provide you with proper work clothes.”
    Liza Sue’s poor, swollen and discolored face was suffused with color, and her eyes shone with startled excitement. “Oh, thank you, ma’am,” she said. “Thank you.”
    “Humph,” Eugenie replied. “We’ll see how happy you are after a day of hard work. Cook here will give you some breakfast, and Aislinn can show you where you sleep.” She hauled her bulky body up off the bench at the trestle table. “Oh, and one more thing. We abide by stern rules around here. You’re free to socialize if you have the inclination, but we expect you in by eight o’clock at night. You got courting to do, you get it done afore then. You’ll go to church on Sunday mornings whether you’ve a mind to or not, and write to your people once a week if you have any. There’s no smoking, no swearing and no drinking permitted, and if I ever catch a man above the second-floor landing, day or night, there’ll be hell to pay. I reckon I’ve made myself clear.”
    “Yes, ma’am” Liza Sue agreed, with an eager nod. She might have been pretty, though it was hard to tell, her features were so distorted.
    Eugenie gave Aislinn another long and thoughtful assessment. “See your friend gets settled in proper,” she said, and went on about her business