Corsets and Gold: The Life of a Soiled Dove

This corset is too tight. Every pull of these strings intended to cinch my waist and enhance my breasts is instead crushing my already bruised ribs and reminding me of being handled too roughly by Jeremiah. I’d like to say that he didn’t mean to do it, but he’s just another drunk cowboy lost amongst all the other downtrodden faces that have been let loose upon this dusty and dirty town of lost hopes and dreams. A town with more swindlers and conmen than there are bottles of liquor and gold in the stream.

I didn’t ask for my life to be like this. Life just sort of happens, so you make of it what you can. This profession just sort of found me and became a means to an end. Funny way of putting it when I think about it considering how many times I have wondered if this profession would indeed be the end of me. It happened to Charlotte, and compared to most of us, she was a good girl. Maybe that’s why it happened to her though. She never was as smart as the rest of us. She never seemed to have that survival instinct to never let them get too rough or to not be afraid of pulling out that knife hidden in your boot, or the gun hidden under the mattress if you needed to and were brave enough to use it. Rumor has it another girl here shot a man straight through the head for getting too rough with her once. I don’t think she was even punished for it either. I guess that’s what happens when you live in a territory that doesn’t have to follow the rules set by a government that doesn’t yet recognize it.

So, how did this life pick me? Well, that’s a story I will try to keep short. It isn’t much different from some of the other girls around here, but it’s mine, so I’ll take responsibility for it and the choices I’ve made. A lot of the girls around here were born into this life. They didn’t know who their daddies were, and their mamas lived some semblance of this same life long before they were born. I wasn’t born into this life; a series of tragedies forced me to live in it or survive in it I reckon would be a better way of putting it.

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My Mama, Mary Calhoun, originally, Mary Murphy, and my Daddy, William Calhoun were both raised in Fort Madison, Iowa. Mama came from a respectable family. My Grandpa on my Mama’s side was a farmer. According to Mama, he provided for his family, but the work was hard. He was gone from sunup to sundown, and he was a quiet man. I’ve never actually met anyone from my Mama’s family, to be honest, but Mama talked nice about them, so I am sure they were good people. The funny thing is, Mama never said much about her family, or my Daddy’s family until after she got that letter from one of her brothers letting her know that her Daddy had died. They said his heart just stopped one night while he was sleeping, and I suppose that’s probably the best way to go. I remember Mama crying and her and Daddy talking about what a good man he was. Shame how it seems she didn’t think much about him until after he was gone.

My Daddy’s parents, on the other hand, were a different story. When my Daddy was real young, his father had been shot and killed over a land dispute. Actually, both my grandpa and the man he’d been arguing with had been killed; they’d shot each other. Always seemed pretty stupid to me since in the end, neither of those men got that land, but violence of any sort has never really made much sense to me anyway. My grandpa hadn’t been a good person though. He was a drunk with a bad temper, so everyone in town knew to stay away and no one was all that surprised when he got shot. My Daddy’s Mama, well, she was a spitfire and if that man hadn’t killed my grandpa, she might have. Mama used to tell me that’s probably where I got my spirit from, which makes me wish I had met her.

After his father died, my Daddy started working for my Mama’s family doing whatever he could to earn a small wage. At first, my Mama’s family didn’t like him given his family history, but after a while, Mama said they accepted him and allowed him to marry her. Daddy would always say that he was sweet on Mama and that’s why he started working at my grandpa’s farm. Mama would always laugh when he said that. I always liked it when my parents would tease each other and laugh. The sound of their laughter always seemed to warm up our entire home.

The only person I have ever met from either side was my Daddy’s uncle, Nathaniel. Nathaniel was my grandpa’s brother and he had an adventurous spirit, which is probably where my Daddy got it. After my grandpa was shot and killed, Nathaniel came back to Iowa from California. He’d been in California trying his luck during the gold rush. He did well for himself, but he was also a gambling man, so he never was able to keep ahold of his earnings for too long. Mama thinks he was running from the law when he came back, but either way, he always did have my Daddy’s ear and was always filling his head with dreams of becoming wealthy from mining.

Nathaniel was the one who talked my parents into moving away from home. He’d heard someone found gold in Pike’s Peak, so he convinced my Daddy to go with him to stake their claim. The two of them and a cousin of my Daddy’s packed up in the summer of 1858 and headed to Pikes Peak to strike it rich. He left my Mama at her parent’s house with my older sister Violet who was only one at the time. Mama ended up following him out to Pikes Peak, or more specifically, to Denver City, a year later. Mama’s parents weren’t too happy with her making that journey though. There had been rumors of Indians attacking travelers on the prairies, and reports of cannibalism as well. She said she’d been nervous of course, but she had traveled with another cousin of Daddy’s and a few other families that were heading out west too. Really though, Mama was the only daughter in her family, so she broke her parents’ hearts when she and Daddy decided to leave, but that’s the way it is sometimes. All kinds of folks moving around this great big country leaving home and trying to do something more with themselves.

Mama said they didn’t stay in Denver City too long though. Not only had there not been much money to be made from the gold in Pike’s Peak, but the town itself had been getting rowdier, and with the territory around Denver City still being unsettled, the tensions with the Indians had been getting worse as well. It just wasn’t a place she wanted to raise a family. When Nathaniel heard that people were having luck mining silver in Virginia City, in the Nevada territory, it didn’t take much to convince Mama and Daddy to take on a new adventure.

Late summer of 1861, the Calhoun family said goodbye to Denver City and made the long journey to Virginia City. By this time, my older sister Violet was four years old and my older brother Henry, who was born in May of 1860, was a little over one. Almost a year after the move, on August 8th, 1862, Abigale Calhoun (that’s me and that’s my proper name) came into this world. I mostly go by Abby now though. Mama used to love telling stories about how when I was a baby Violet would pretend that I was her baby. She wouldn’t let anyone near me, well, other than Mama. Violet would rock me, sing to me, and tell me not to cry because she would always take care of me. I don’t remember all of this of course, but I sure do wish sometimes that my sister had stayed true to those words. I don’t blame her though; pretending as a child is far different than the reality of being an adult.

A couple of years after we settled in Virginia City, Violet was able to start school. A Catholic Church had opened in the city, which Mama had been very happy about since she’d been concerned about raising her children in a wholesome environment. The church opened a school in the basement with separate classes for the boys and girls. Violet had always been a good student. Being the older of the three of us, she was always the more responsible one. Henry started his lessons a year later and while he tried to be a good student, he was more interested in playing than learning. I was the wildest of the three of us though. I found school to be boring and I found the nuns to be too bossy. I got into trouble a few times, and on more than one occasion the nuns would tell Mama that I was an unruly child who needed a few good lashes with a switch to straighten out. Mama didn’t believe in all that though.

Some of my fondest memories of being a child were with my best friend Ginny. She and I would walk to and from school the same way every day and we always took our time. If we were lucky, we would see Eli Grayson working at his dad’s general store after school. Eli was two years older than us, and we were both sweet on him. Most days if we stopped in to say hello, Eli would sneak us a piece of hard candy, and Mr. Grayson would always pretend not to notice. I think Eli was more sweet on Ginny than me, but that didn’t matter. Just seeing those big blue eyes and his friendly smile was enough. Eli’s mom had passed away when he was young, so I imagine it was difficult for both he and Mr. Grayson not to have a Mama around. I have often wondered what happened to Eli and Ginny. I wonder if they did end up marrying and having a family. I would certainly like to think so.

My life as a child wasn’t that much different than the other girls and boys in Virginia City. I was told to stay away from the rowdier parts of town, I went to school, did my lessons, and went to church on Sundays. I minded my Mama, helped with the household chores, and when my Daddy came home, which sometimes wasn't for several days, I was always excited. Violet wanted to become a teacher, Henry wanted to work in the mines like Daddy, which of course Daddy didn’t want him to do, and I wanted to travel around the world. I couldn’t see myself being a teacher or having a husband and kids right away. What I didn’t expect though was for life to change so drastically in just a few short years.

The first of these changes came in July of 1873. My brother and I were both home helping Mama with some of the household chores when a man came knocking on the door. We didn’t recognize him, so Mama was a little cautious. The man looked at my brother and me and asked Mama if she could step outside to speak with him. She obliged and then I heard Mama scream and saw her fall to her knees. At first, my brother and I thought that something had happened to Mama, but that wasn’t the case. The man had come to tell Mama that there had been an accident at one of the mines that my Daddy had been working at and he and a couple of other men had died. I will never forget that day or the day we buried him. The sadness in Mama’s eyes never really went away after that day either. She started getting lots of headaches after and without my Daddy’s income coming in she started working as a seamstress in town. She also started taking some medicine that she said helped with the headaches, but all that medicine did was make her clumsy and sleepy.

Two years later, in October of 1975, a fire swept through Virginia City and most of the town had been left in a state of ashes. Mama was devastated. The place where she had been working had burnt down too, so she was worried again about how she would provide for us. A lot of people left after the fire due to their businesses and homes being destroyed, but we didn’t. Henry started working in the mines, which worried Mama something awful and Violet had started teaching. I was only 13 at the time, so Mama wanted me to focus on my lessons, which I tried to do.

The event that truly broke me though happened about three months after the fire. One afternoon when I was home alone, Mr. Grayson stopped by to drop off some groceries and to check in on us. He had done this before, but usually, Mama was there when he did. I knew him and wasn’t worried, so I let him in. He asked how things were going and I told him that Mama was still not feeling well, but we were getting by anyway. I remember thinking at the time that something just wasn’t right. You know that feeling you get where the back of your neck starts to feel cold, and you can feel those little hairs sticking up? That’s how I felt.

There was a wickedness in the way he was smiling at me and before I knew it, he was trying to kiss me. I pushed him away, which only seemed to make him angrier. I don’t remember much of what happened after he slapped me across the face, but I do remember how the wood of the table felt pressed against my cheek after he forced me to bend over, and I remember the smell of the whiskey on his breath and how hot his breath felt on my ear when he whispered how pretty I was. I remember the wetness of his mouth on my neck and then on my shoulder after he ripped my dress and bit that same shoulder. I remember the pain from him pulling my hair and the pain between my legs that seemed to ache for days afterward. I never told anyone about that day. I just kept it to myself, but I was never the same. I never did go back into Mr. Grayson’s general store, and I never saw Eli again either; I just couldn’t handle looking him in the eye after all that.

Mama’s headaches kept getting worse and so was her use of that medicine. I couldn’t sit at home anymore. I ended up meeting a nice lady in town named Jennie and she offered me a job. She wasn’t the Madame of the house, but she was one of the head girls. Jennie taught me so much when I was just starting off. One of the first things she taught me was that even though most of these men just want a comfortable place to put it, some of them like to think their special. So, that meant learning to fake like I was enjoying what they were doing, making all the sounds they like to hear, and not just lying there doing nothing. She said that if they think they’re pleasing you, that tends to turn them on, so they finish faster and sometimes they even pay you a little more. Jennie had lots of tricks and she taught me all of them. The one trick she never could teach me though was how to get over the smell of whiskey on a man’s breath, sometimes that smell still brings up bad memories, but at least I know what I am doing is on my own terms now and there’s no sense in living in the past.

A couple of months after I started working, a man came through town making promises that there was a lot of money to be made in some town in the Dakota Territory that had just seen a boom in gold. Most of us girls, including Jennie, were excited. Virginia City had since lost its appeal and especially for me. I didn’t waste much time, I packed what little I had, I wrote my sister a letter, and I left home to start a new life.

Our traveling group consisted of eight girls excited about a new future, two covered wagons for us to ride in, several wagons that held all our belongings, and several men to ensure we would arrive safely. Throughout the long trip, we alternated between walking and riding in the wagons. The wagons weren’t the most comfortable on the harsh roads we were traveling on, so sometimes we just needed to stretch our legs. I had never seen anything outside of Virginia City, so I tried to soak in as much of the world between here and there as I could. I remember at one point seeing a group of Indians that had been watching us, and I remembered feeling nervous that they would try to stop us on the road. Not because I was afraid of dying, I just didn’t want to die before I got the chance to start a new life. Those Indians didn’t bother us though, I guess they had places to be too.

The night before we arrived, we camped just outside of town. When we awoke the next morning, the Madame told us to wash up in the stream, put on our best outfits, and look as pretty as possible. Once I had put on my finest light pink corset with my pink and white striped skirt with the slit that ran from just below my knee to the middle of my thigh, Jennie helped me with my hair. I was blessed with Strawberry blond naturally curly hair, so my hair didn’t need much work, but Jennie loved playing with it. That day, she piled my hair up on the top of my head in a fancy bun and arranged the curls so that they laid perfectly across the back of my neck and around my face. I don’t know why she doted on me so much; maybe she considered me the daughter she never had, or the daughter she once had, or maybe she just saw herself in me. Either way, I never asked.

All of us girls loaded up into one of the uncovered wagons and headed out. The excitement that greeted us when we pulled into that town was like nothing I had ever seen. Men lined up on the side of the dirt roads hooting, hollering, and whistling like they’d never seen a woman before. The saloon that we would be working at would be opening the following night, so after a few minutes of smiling, waving, and blowing kisses to the eager men, we went to work to get ourselves and the new establishment ready.

It didn’t take long for the true colors of this town to bleed through though. Two nights after we arrived and six days before my 14th birthday chaos erupted all over that town. A notorious cowboy by the name of Wild Bill was shot in the back of the head while playing poker and died. A trial took place, but the man who shot him was set free on account he claimed that this Wild Bill fella had killed his brother. There had been violence in Virginia City, but this place, this town called Deadwood was different, and it was truly wild.

Eventually, the chaos and uproar from the shooting of that cowboy calmed down. There was still violence throughout the town, but we quickly learned to stick to what we knew, which was keeping our mouths shut unless we were using them to keep the paying customers happy. At least that’s what the Madame’s husband would yell at us all the time. Needless to say, he wasn’t a very nice man, and I use the word was because he isn’t around anymore. Rumor has it he had an unfortunate mining accident. I don’t know how true that rumor was, but it seems like a lot of folks around here have had similar types of accidents, so who knows.

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I just celebrated my 17th birthday, so I’ve been here a little over three years now. I make a decent enough wage, so I’ve been able to save a little, and most of the time I am happy. Most of the girls around here look out for one another. There are arguments of course, but that’s just how it is with family, and when you really stop to think about it, that’s what we are, each other’s only family. There’s a doctor that comes in once a week to check on us girls. And if our courses are late and we need to bring them on, he gives us a tonic to help; the cramps from drinking that stuff are downright awful though. There’s plenty of opium around too, which some of the girls indulge in, but I don’t, it reminds me too much of seeing my Mama like that.

I have a few regulars now, so that makes it easier. Little Jimmy is one of my favorites. The first time he came to see me he was just a boy. He and his father had come to town, like all the rest, hoping to strike it rich. A couple of days after they arrived and since Jimmy was still a virgin, his father paid for me to break him in so to speak. He was so nervous; he was straight shaking in his boots. It didn’t take him long to get the hang of it though and now he comes to see me all the time. He brought me a pretty silver with pearls hairpin once, so that was nice of him. He tells me he loves me all the time and that he wants to rescue me from this life; make an honest woman of me, but I don’t put any stock into those promises.

Another one of my regulars and one that truly surprised me is a cowboy named Jack. When I first saw Jack, I thought he was just another young boy like Jimmy. A baby-faced angel without a hair on his face. The first few times he came to see me we would just talk. He wanted to know all about my life. I didn’t mind since he was still paying for his time, and sometimes it felt good to just talk to someone.

Eventually, Jack confessed who he was. It turns out, Jack is actually a woman. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to convince everyone around her that she’s a boy. She swore me to secrecy and until now, I have never told a soul. The same night she revealed to me who she was, she told me her story, and it wasn’t that much different from my own.

Apparently, one night when she and her twin brother had been home alone, a man broke into their house. He killed her brother and after doing to her what Mr. Grayson had done to me, he left her for dead. When her Mama came home and found her, she just held her in her arms and the two of them just cried. She was only 11 years old, but she swore from that day forward that no man would ever hurt her again. She decided to use her brother’s name, Jack, to remember him and left home pretending to be a boy.

I don’t know if it was because of her experience, if she was born that way, or maybe because she wanted to fit in with the other cowboys, but she confessed to me that she only likes being with girls. I was nervous the first time we were together, but she walked me through it. She was far gentler than any of the men I have ever been with and like Jimmy, she says that she wants to save me too. She has tried to convince me several times that we could just get married. She says no one would ever know that she wasn’t a man, but I know if we ever got caught, we would surely be killed. People don’t look too kindly on that kind of lifestyle around here.

We get called all sorts of names; painted ladies on account of how much make-up some of the girls like to wear, ladies of the line, sporting women, and one of my personal favorites because it makes us sound like we’re delicate birds who just got a little dirty, is soiled doves. The proper ladies around here don’t like us much and that’s all right; I reckon I can’t blame them for that.

Maybe someday I will leave this life. Maybe this life will someday be the end of me, I can’t say. I think about home a lot. I have thought about writing to Violet a couple of times, but I can’t. I don’t want her to know where I am. I like to pretend that my Mama got better. Maybe Violet stayed being a teacher and is married with a little one of her own. Maybe Henry found someone to love and has a little one too, so now Mama just plays with her grandbabies all the time. It’s a nice thought. I try not to think about Daddy either. I know he wouldn’t be proud of his little girl and what she became. I don’t really believe in religion anymore, so I don’t know if there is a heaven. If there is though and if he is looking down on me, I hope he forgives me. I’m a good person and I try to do right by others. I will get out of this life someday, but for today, it’s all I have, so that will just have to be good enough for now.

Author’s note:

When I first saw the past life challenge, I immediately thought of my younger years working as a bartender/cocktail waitress in Oklahoma, which at times did make me feel like I was working in the wild west. I used to joke all the time that in a past life I had probably been a Madame in a brothel during the wild west times.

When I started writing about Abigale, she just came to life. I apologize for the length, but I had to tell as much of her story as I could. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed her story!