Printer in Petticoats by Lynna Banning

time she stirred in his arms. “Is there any more whiskey?” she said in a shaky voice.
    â€œProbably. You don’t need it.”
    â€œOh, but I—”
    â€œTrust me, Jess. We’ve both had enough.” He held her against him, his breathing ragged, then deliberately set her apart and strode out the door.
    Jess stood without moving, touching her lips with her fingers and wondering what had just happened.
    That night she dreamed she was walking through an ice-encrusted forest, feeling inexplicably light and happy, and warmed by a presence she could not see.
    * * *
    Cole bent over Jessamine’s latest Sentinel editorial page spread out on his desk and groaned under his breath. “...A self-righteous puffed-up politician with bread crumbs for brains and a peculiarly selfish predilection for boring his listeners.”
    Whew! Not libel, but close. And today she seemed to be stuck on P words. Puffed up. Pretentious. Predilection. He’d have to print some sort of rebuttal before Arbuckle went on the warpath.
    He stroked his chin and began to plan the first page of his next edition. But after the other night’s encounter with Jess, he discovered he couldn’t put two thoughts together in a logical sequence.
    * * *
    Jessamine looked up to see Rosie Greywolf glide past the front window of the Sentinel office, glance to her right, then left, and slip noiselessly through the front door. The Indian woman washed dishes at the restaurant and was raising her two boys in a tiny cabin just outside town.
    â€œPsssst, missy!”
    â€œGood morning, Rosie. What can I do for you?”
    â€œIs what I can do for you, missy. You listen.”
    â€œYes?” Intrigued, Jessamine leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
    Rosie studied Eli, seated on his stool, with suspicious black eyes. “That one safe?”
    â€œEli? Oh, yes, he is ‘safe.’ Eli works for my newspaper.”
    â€œNo repeat?”
    â€œRepeat what, Rosie? Tell me what you came to say.”
    The woman twitched her long calico skirt. “I know something about Mr. Coffee Man.”
    â€œYou mean Mr. Arbuckle?”
    â€œHe big sneak. Have two wives.”
    A snort erupted from Eli at the font case.
    â€œHush, Eli. Rosie, what makes you think Mr. Arbuckle has two wives?”
    â€œI also work at hotel. Coffee man live at hotel.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œLive at hotel with one wife. Sleep in big house in town with other wife.”
    â€œHa!” Eli burst out. “Got hisself a wh—a fancy lady.”
    Rosie nodded. “Hotel wife flat here.” She pointed to her ample bosom. “Other wife...” She made a curving gesture with both hands. “More like Rosie.”
    Eli practically crowed. “Pretty juicy item, huh, Jess?”
    â€œEli, do be quiet.”
    â€œYou tell this in newspaper?” Rosie whispered.
    â€œRosie, I can’t print this. It’s hearsay.”
    â€œNo, missy. Is see -say. I see. You say.”
    Jess sighed. She would dearly love to libel Mr. Arbuckle, but that was just what it would be, libel. As a responsible journalist she couldn’t print a word of it. “Rosie, I am sorry. But thank you for keeping your eyes open.”
    The Indian woman leaned closer. “Hear much at hotel. I keep watch for you.” With that, she slipped quietly out the door and moved past the front window and on down the boardwalk.
    â€œToo bad ya cain’t spread that all over page one, Jess. That’d fix Arbuckle’s wagon good.”
    â€œI’ve already fixed his wagon, Eli. You typeset my editorial about Mr. Arbuckle yesterday. I couldn’t have been more pointed about that bloated—”
    She broke off as Conway Arbuckle’s bulky form barreled into her office. He stomped up to her desk and shook his pudgy fist in her face.
    â€œYou’re gonna regret the day you wrote that tripe about me,” he yelled. He