Montana, Spring 1890

"ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS, marching as to war!

With the cross of Je-e-sus going on before'!"

"It's the Bible thumpers again." Annoyance tapped a cadence along Lily Divine's nerve endings and raised her temperature a degree. She set aside the freshly washed and dried glasses she'd been stacking behind the bar and stepped around Old Jess to plant herself in the open doorway of her half-filled saloon. The light from the interior spilled out and, aided by the hissing gas lamps on the boardwalk, lit half a dozen women wearing prim dresses and bonnets. Standing in the street, they held signs lettered in charcoal on brown paper.

The Dens of Vice are Stealing from Us, one sign read. Another spelled out, Wicked Women Repent.

"Move along!" she called. "There's nothing illegal going on here."

"Christ the Royal Master, leads against the foe'!" they sang at the tops of their voices with tambourine accompaniment. "Forward into ba-at-tle, see His banners go'!"

At the very front of the gathering was Meriel Reed, wife of Thunder Canyon's livery owner and the leader of the newly formed Women's Temperance Prayer League. Lily narrowed her eyes at Wade's wife of one and a half years. Tall and slender, with every mousybrown hair in place, Meriel seemed to have honed in on Lily as the personified harbinger of evil and used every opportunity to get under her skin.

These women had taken to praying and singing in front of the town's three saloons in hopes of discouraging customers. At first their unwelcome visits had been only on Friday and Saturday nights, but lately their zeal had extended to the weeknights, as well. So far, their behavior had been merely a nuisance, but Lily resented their holier-than-thou attitudes — and their assumption that something wicked was going on in her establishment.

The song wound down, and Lily got a word in before they caught their second self-righteous wind. "There's no law against selling whiskey and playing cards," she called. "You're wasting your breath here."

"There are moral laws," Beatrice Gibbs returned.

"God's laws." As the mayor's wife, Beatrice was a visible and vocal presence in this new protest. She was as buxom and sturdy as Meriel was thin.

"Nothing immoral goes on in the Shady Lady," Lily assured her, with a sweep of her arm. "Come in and see for yourself."

As a whole, the women sucked in a shocked breath and drew back as though Lily had suggested they step into the flames of hell and dance a jig with the devil. Blythe Shaw, the mercantile owner's new wife, bristled and spoke up. "No self-respecting Christian woman would set foot within the walls of that den of wickedness. And no one believes you aren't dispensing more than whiskey in those rooms next door. We're not fools."

Disgusted, Lily turned back inside and closed the interior doors, which were normally open on warm May Montana evenings such as this. She called to Isaac Worthy, "Play that piano louder! We have competition outside."

Isaac, with hair to his shoulders from the sides of his head and none at all on top, stepped up the tempo and volume of "Buffalo Gals."

Granted, the connecting house had been a bordello until seven years ago, but when Lily had inherited the house from her friend, Madame Antoinette Powell, she'd added on the dance hall and given the last two remaining working girls different jobs.

"It's them again?" Mollie asked. Mollie was an Omaha-Ponca Indian who had worked for Antoinette.

"Seems we're the only ones who believe there's no sinning going on here," Lily told her.

"What about all the men who drink and play cards here of a night?" Mollie asked. "They can make it plain that this isn't where they come for a poke."

There had been many a misunderstanding when newcomers expecting to take their ease with one of Lily's girls had been told to look elsewhere. After seven years, the regulars knew they could buy good whiskey, play a fair hand of cards, and buy a dance with a pretty lady. But anyone treating a female disrespectfully was promptly ushered out.

Lily smiled. "And so they tell their wives the same about us as they do about the Three Moon Palace and the Big Nugget — that there's no whoring going on?"

"I suppose you're right," Mollie conceded. "What's a wife to believe?"

"I bet some of those women are nice ladies," Lily said affably.

Molly's black eyes took on a sparkle. "I'm sure they are. We'd probably be their best friends if we closed the place down and married town big shots. They'd be gracious and have us over for tea."

They leaned in close for a shared chuckle at the image. "Well, I'm not closing the place down." Lily's dance hall was a flourishing enterprise. Early on she'd learned that there was plenty of money to be made from the miners.

Ten years ago she'd begun a laundry business, tucking away her earnings while living under the protection her friend offered. Upon Antoinette's death and Lily's inheritance of the bordello, she'd used part of her savings to build and appoint the saloon.

She had ordered the gigantic curving cherrywood bar all the way from Pennsylvania. The huge expanse of mirror behind it had cost fifteen hundred dollars. She was especially proud of that mirror. It reflected light and sparkling glassware and the faces of the patrons and those who worked within these walls. It spoke of Lily's enterprising success and independence. She was never ashamed to look into it and see the reflection of a hardworking woman.

"Miss Lily, may I speak with you?"

"Excuse me, Mollie." Lily turned to the man who'd spoken. He was middle-aged and slender, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and string tie. "Good evening, Edward."

"I wanted to thank you for putting me up for a few nights. I'd have camped outside town, but I really wanted to stay nearby so I wouldn't miss any arriving trains or stages. I've been watching for a friend who will be accompanying me on to the coast."

"You earned your keep, Mr. Mulvaney. Old Jess is a fine barkeep, but his bones are a might creaky from his years of prospecting, and he can't stack and clean the way you did. That storeroom fairly sparkles."

"I was wondering, Miss, if you would grant me a few hours of your time tomorrow."

Lily gave him a curious look. "I'd like to paint you."