Chapter Text
SEPTEMBER 19TH 1867
RENOWNED AUTHOR DECLARED MISSING ONE WEEK AFTER STUDENT FOUND DEAD
Maxine sat and read the headline from the paper while she awaited her client’s arrival. She skimmed over the story, eyes catching on the illustration of the missing man briefly. It had looked to be drawn from reference to a photograph, though the quality of the news paper’s ink obscured some of the finer details in his face.
It was an old issue, maybe from about three weeks ago. She wasn’t all too interested in an of the stories, rather the images printed between the lines. Visual arts and photography went hand in hand, and one day Maxine hoped that photographs could feature on the front pages.
She was on her feet as soon as she had heard knocking against the door, welcoming in her client. Introductions needn’t be necessary, as the woman, Yasmin, had sent a message the previous week that she was new to town and wished to get the portrait of her and her daughter taken.
“It’s good to meet you, Yasmin. I hope you’ve found Lakeport delightful so far,” Maxine greeted with an enthusiastic handshake. She had been a little giddy once Yasmin had named her price, more than welcome to pay double in return for the expectations of her best work.
She began to prepare the camera whilst they waited for Yasmin’s daughter to arrive. She wasn’t sure what to expect—initially she had assumed her daughter would be no older than her teen years, but Maxine doubts Yasmin would leave a girl so young on her own.
“That girl is always off doing god knows what,” Yasmin sighed, looking over herself in the mirror by the corner of the studio. After a couple of minutes had gone by, the only noise being the chimes of the wall clock, there had been frantic footsteps outside of the studio.
A woman who looked no older than her mid-twenties practically slammed through the front door, breathless. Her long dark hair was frazzled as though she had ridden through the main street at full speed.
Yasmin marched towards the woman and frowned. “Heavens, Safiya. A little more formality would be appreciated. And I hope you’re not planning on wearing this in your photo,” Yasmin scowls, tugging the cloth of the coat and vest her daughter wore.
Safiya took a step away from her mother and folded her arms over her chest. “You didn’t expect me to show up in that silly dress you bought me, did you? I can’t ride Nebula in that thing.”
“Any dress would have been better than this… menswear.” Yasmin pinched the bridge of her nose. “And I hope you’ve remembered to tie that horse up outside.”
Before Safiya could respond, Maxine clapped her hands together to get the attention of both of them. “Let’s get the session started, shall we?”
“Would you mind stepping a little more to the left? Closer to your mother, please,” Maxine asked with an awkward smile. Hesitantly, Safiya shuffled aside, distain clear on her face. Her mother sat on a rather expensive mahogany chair and met her daughters’ eyes with the beginnings of a frown. It didn’t seem like either of them wanted to be here.
“Are you sure I have to wear this? I don’t think I can step forward in this dress without tripping over my own feet,” Her daughter groans, readjusting her dress around her waist. Yasmin had miraculously found a spare dress in the trunk of her carriage, much to Safiya’s disappointment.
“It’s not often you get your photograph taken, Safiya. For once it would be nice if you didn’t complain. Do you wish not to make a good impression here?” Yasmin shook her head and repositioned her arms on her lap.
They had discussed arrangements for a while earlier and decided it would be best if Yasmin were to sit and Safiya to stand, supposedly a metaphor for her daughter’s coming of age and Yasmin’s soon to come retirement—Maxine wasn’t listening.
Now behind the camera, she slotted in the metal photographic plate and readied the camera, fiddling with the focus and dialling. The weather today wasn’t exactly ideal, the clouds strayed over the sun and created an overcast environment, limiting the sunlight that came through the large studio windows. “Make sure you hold your position as well as you can. No moving about.”
Safiya smiled for the camera, and Maxine peeked at her and grimaced. “What? I’m not allowed to smile?” Safiya asked, sounding mildly offended.
“Well,” Maxine laughed anxiously, “Usually people find it hard to hold a smile the whole time. I always recommend a serious face.”
Yasmin cleared her throat. “Let’s just get on with this. Safiya, hold still.”
After both of them moved back into position, Maxine took the black cloth from the desk beside her and threw it over the camera, so that when she looked underneath she could see the image through the lens. Tintype photos were a complicated process- but nonetheless each advancement in the technology of photography excited her.
She had been interested in photography for a number of years, her interest sparking when she was in her teens and had gotten a group portrait taken for her graduating year. The photographer, William, was the father of one of her close friends, and had been delighted to share with her the basic workings of the field camera at her curiosity. At her very sudden keen interest and surprisingly good eye for photo-taking, he had agreed to take her to her on as an apprentice until she had enough experience to begin work in a studio in Oregon, sometimes shooting for organisations, sometimes taking portraits.
The studio of which she worked now in Vermont was run by one other photographer, who was home sick, and an apprentice who helped in the chemical mixing and photograph fixing process.
After she had checked that the scene looked good, she removed the black cloth, gave the count of three and opened the aperture, exposing it to light and thus beginning to capture the image Infront of her.
After about 20 or so odd seconds of Yasmin and Safiya trying to remain as still as possible passed, Maxine placed the lens cap back over the camera and clapped her hands. “That should be a good one. Although, you’ll have to wait until the session is over before our specialist can apply the fixer and the image will appear.”
“That’s quite alright. I still have about a half hour. Shall we try a couple more poses? I can pay extra, if it’s a bother,” Yasmin says with a glance at the clock on the wall.
“Not a bother at all,” Maxine replies, already walking back to her desk to begin readying another metal sheet for a photograph.
After two more photographs they had decided to call it quits, Yasmin citing Safiya’s complaining as a sign that this would be fruitless. Maxine didn’t think the images would turn out half bad, considering the poor weather.
Yasmin insisted on paying before she left, despite not having the photos yet. She almost paled at the amount of money she was handed—10 dollars, much more than she usually charged, but she didn’t comment. Maxine excused herself outside to the porch while Safiya changed back out of her dress.
The photography studio was right around from the main street, so the foot traffic was always heavy. Horses and carriages adorned the road, people in rough clothes to fine tailored suits. Maxine hadn’t been living here in Lakeport for long, she had only moved about two years ago after the civil war had ended and she had heard about the new bustling town in Vermont, not far out from Burlington.
A shuffling noise to her left caught her attention, belonging to a brown horse snuffing about in the dirt and nibbling at the grass that peeked underneath the building. Safiya’s horse, probably, tied to the posts. Yasmin’s carriage was on the other side of the street, the driver leaning against a wooden post and reading the paper.
The door behind her swung open as Safiya strolled forward, her mother behind her holding the dress she had worn previously. They bid their goodbyes, and Yasmin waved down her carriage driver who came to pick her up.
“I will see you this afternoon for dinner with the landowner, habibti. Please do not stir up any trouble.”
“You know me. I’m an angel,” Safiya said in mock sweetness.
After they waved goodbye, Maxine had expected Safiya to leave on her horse. Instead, she walked back onto the studio porch and pulled a wooden pipe out of her inner coat pocket and placed it between her lips. She leant against the porch railing as she filled the pipe with Tabaco and lit a match. The dress she had previously worn now discarded, she wore the same attire as before, a navy coat and vest with brown trousers. It looked expensive and well fitting, a testimony to how much wealth she seemed to come from.
“It’s not polite to stare, you know. God forbid if I don’t want to wear those awful dresses around town,” Safiya spoke up, catching Maxine’s stare which brought a fluster to her face.
“I’m not judging you,” she muttered, head turned away and watching Safiya’s horse again. “I think it looks nice.”
“What, me or the horse?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that, as she turned back to look at Safiya. “Your outfit, silly. It is a nice horse though.”
The woman nodded. “She’s a Kentucky Saddler, they’re becoming quite an expensive breed. My mother bought her for me for my last birthday. Her name’s Nebula. Poor thing used to be terrified of me, but I’d consider us friends now.”
She looked from the horse to Safiya, the latter of which was clearly more interested in dead grass than her owner. “Would she consider you friends?”
“You’re a funny one, Maxine.”
Maxine stared at her again—she couldn’t help it, Safiya just happened to be the most interesting thing in her vicinity. She was clearly no man, although one might say she behaved like one. Her elegant features and charm were well beyond what a gritty man could have.
“Do you want a smoke?” Safiya asked, offering her pipe to Maxine as she puffed out a breath of smoke.
She considered it for a second, simply because she didn’t want the conversation to be cut short. Nearly everyone smoked, it was just something that people did. Maxine though, her friend had offered her a smoke back in high school and the taste had nearly brought her to vomiting. “I shouldn’t. I don’t smoke.”
Safiya shrugged and brought the pipe between her teeth. “Do you drink?” She asked, though the pipe muffled her words.
“Funny you should say that; alcohol is actually illegal in Vermont. Has been for over a decade.”
Safiya was silent for a second, perhaps expecting a punchline because there was simply no way alcohol could be illegal. When none came, she looked quite concerned. “You’re serious?”
A large smile was plastered over Maxine’s face at her reaction. It was always fun to get a rise out of newcomers with that fact. “Yes, but… Don’t tell your mother I told you this, but I know a place that will still serve it, if you pay double and keep hushed.”
Safiya smirked back at her. “So you do drink.”
Maxine shoved Safiya’s side with her elbow. “Oh, come on, who doesn’t? This world’s hell enough without a good drink or two.” She had always thought the law quite stupid considering everyone still drank regardless, just in more secrecy. Even the law enforcers themselves.
Safiya let out a puff of smoke, then smothered her pipe out with her fingers. She placed it back in her pocked and held out a hand to Maxine. “Mind showing me the way to this place then?”
“It’s not even noon yet!” Maxine laughed, already taking her hand.
Safiya turned around towards her horse and tugged her forward. “You can give me a tour of this place first, then. I’ve got about three hours before I’m supposed to be busy again.” She paused. “Unless you’ve got more clients to serve, of course, Maxine… Can I call you Max?”
Maxine sat at the front of the horse, her dress bunched up and out of the way, While Safiya—Safi, she had corrected her, sat behind her, holding onto the reins from around Maxine’s waist. That way, she could point her in which direction to go and show her any significant places or landmarks.
She had barely noticed it at first, but Safi seemed on edge. Looking over her shoulder at every turn, scanning every group of people that adorned the streets. Maxine didn’t think much of it though, it was a new town for the woman and Maxine and been just as skittish when she arrived. Safi just… didn’t seem like the type of person to be nervous in a new environment, that’s all.
“That’s the church, at the very end of the street there. I don’t usually attend, only for Christmas services,” Maxine pointed, and Safi nodded absentmindedly.
“Not a woman of faith, are you?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. I guess I would like to believe there’s someone up in the sky looking out for me, but it always just seemed childish. Like a fairytale that you stop believing when you grow up.”
“Have to agree with you there.” Safi tugged the reigns slightly, putting the horse into a light canter. “So where’s that bar at, huh? Nebbie’s going to start complaining soon, I can feel it.”
Maxine squinted ahead of her, where she could see horses gathered around the building. “Just up ahead here. And may I ask, what kind of a name is Nebbie?”
“Nebula, didn’t I tell you? My friend named her, he studies astronomy in New York. He told me it meant a big, colourful cluster of gas in space.”
“Your friend is an astronomer? I’ve always wanted to capture an image of the night sky.”
“I’ll have to show you some of the telescopes he uses sometime. The detail is quite astounding.” The promise of a sometime was comforting. Maxine admittedly hadn’t made many friends in Lakeport, so it was assuring that Safi seemed eager to make her acquaintance.
A couple of minutes later they had arrived around the front of the saloon, and Safi had dismounted her horse first and helped Maxine down, making sure no dirt smeared her dress. “Beautiful dismount, Max.”
Safi led her through the front doors, grabbing her hand as to not loose her as they pushed through the crowds of patrons. Lakeport wasn’t nearly as rowdy as any town she’d previously lived in, as most of its inhabitants were businessmen looking to strike gold in a new town. Not literally, of course.
Safi guided her to the front counter, her grip on her hand tightening slightly as she scanned the room.
“Looking for anyone?” Maxine asked with a tilt of her head. If she hadn’t seemed on edge before, she certainly was now.
Safi shook her head and they took two seats at the bar, beside a woman and her husband on the right, and a well-dressed but disorientated man on the left. The man whistled as Maxine took her seat, eyeing her up and down.
“Oh, shush you,” the woman beside them yelled over her shoulder, disappointment on her face. Then she turns to look at Maxine, her face slightly familiar. “You work at that photography studio near the main street, don’t you?”
The gears start to turn in her head, but it was difficult to remember every client she’d had over the past two years. “Yes, I do… Can’t say I remember you though, but you do seem familiar.”
The woman smiles politely, then looks between Maxine and Safi. “And, uh… Who might this be?”
Safi jumps at the chance to introduce herself, a sociable woman, clearly. “I’m an acquaintance of Max’s. She’s showing me around town, since I’m not familiar with this place. My name’s Safiya, I’m here on official business.”
“What business? You seem to have previously left out that detail,” Maxine asks, wondering if this had anything to do with the ‘dinner with the landowner’ Yasmin had reminded Safi about.
“The government’s looking to build a new university here in Vermont, more liberal-art’s focused than the one in Burlington. We’re here to make sure there’s the demand for that.”
The woman raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her drink. “You work for the government?”
“Of course she don’t work for the damn government!” The man beside them, who was obviously drunk, laughed. “She ain’t even American.” Maxine whipped her head around and gave him a stern glare.
Safi evidently tried her best to ignore the comment. “I wouldn’t say I work for the government, no. They provide partial funding, but that’s as far as the affiliation goes.”
“Well, Safi, I certainly think a university could do this town some good. Hopefully it will bring some prestige to its name.”
After a bit of back and forth chit chat Maxine flagged the attention of the bartender and asked for two glasses of whiskey. The bartender at first denied them, claiming that they ‘don’t sell that stuff around here,’ despite the obvious fact that the man beside them was holding a glass of beer. When Safi pulled out her wallet from her coat, he chuckled awkwardly before excusing himself to pour their whiskey.
When they had their drinks, Maxine traced a finger across her glass. She was curious now, about the woman who had quite decidedly swept her away from her work to buy her a drink. “So, Safi, what do you actually do?”
Looking up from her glass as she took a sip, Safi raised an eyebrow.
“What I mean is, nobody enjoys those sorts of jobs. What do you wish you did for a living? Say, a hobby of yours?”
Safi placed her glass down and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I used to be an aspiring poet, if you can imagine it.”
Yes, she could absolutely imagine it. The rebellious attire, her thoughtful nature, and her dramatic flair were certainly helping. “Used to?”
“The stars never aligned for me to consider it a really possibility outside of being a simple hobby,” she said wistfully. She then raised her glass and took another swig of whiskey, finishing it off. “I’m grateful to have a job at all, really. No amount of judgemental gazes could make me a housewife.”
“You’ve got far too much character to be a married woman,” Maxine said, and then leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a cheeky whisper. “Men always seem to drain the colour from their women, I say.”
The woman beside them shot a look as sharp as knives. “I can still hear you blabbing on, Maxine. There’s nothing wrong with settlin’ down.”
The two of them practically rolled their eyes in unison, causing them to break out into a fit of giggles.
After they calmed, Safi crossed her arms across the bar top. “What about you, Max? Was photography always on the cards?” The nickname was already growing on her, due to Safi’s continued use of it. It sounded nice when she said it, not at all uncouth or boyish.
“It’s really all I’ve cared about for the past decade. I find my true love in the way a camera captures a person, and how I can frame the world around them.”
“You’re certainly got the soul of an artist, then.”
On their second round of drinks, Safi’s shoulders began to loosen, the tension easing out. The drunkard beside them left, and as midday soon approached a man made his way to the piano tucked into the corner of the saloon and began to play an upbeat song.
“Oh, this one’s our favourite! Let’s go dance,” the other woman exclaimed, finishing her drink whisking her husband away. Safi was about to order their third round, Maxine well and truly happy to be treated to the drinks, but the alcohol thrumming through her body made her a little less adverse to the idea of a dance.
Maxine tapped Safi on the shoulder and gestured to where the other patrons were dancing to the music. “Care to join me? I’m not usually a dancer, but I think the whiskey’s making me braver.” She’d also never quite much liked dancing due to the fact that the men seemed to be a little rough, but she doubted that would be the case with Safi. She had been nothing but gentle and generous with her.
Safi’s face lit up, a spark behind her eyes. “Well I’d be delighted. More than delighted, actually,” she smiled, placing her hand in Maxine’s oh-so delicately. “My mother went to the bother of paying for my dance lessons as a child, but I’ve not had many opportunities to put it to use.”
“Let’s change that, hm?”
As they dart their way into the crowd of dancers, the music took hold of their movements, the tune infectiously catchy. Safi’s other hand moved to hold onto Maxine’s waist as they moved back and forth to the rhythm, which brought a fluster to her face. It wasn’t a traditional fancy ball dance, rather its own amalgamation of steps, dips and spins in time with the furious piano playing.
It’s only really now that Maxine noticed how Safi was a whole head taller than her, as her gaze was stuck to the woman in front of her. Her eyes seemed incredibly soft in the dimmed light of the saloon, and her lips even softer, curved into a smile that she doubted would ever leave her mind. Safi seemed alive with the music, like whatever had been bothering her earlier was completely forgotten.
“You aren’t so terrible at this as you made it sound!” Safi spoke over the music, beaming.
“I’m just following your lead,” Maxine replied, throwing in a wink for good measure. That seemed to spur her on, and near the end of the song, Safi lifted Maxine’s hand high into the air and twirled her around. Her dress billowed with the movement, and she couldn’t help but cheer. She hadn’t pictured her day turning out this enjoyable in the slightest—her plans of browsing the markets by her lonesome paling in comparison to her venture into town with her new acquaintance. Though, the drinks and the dancing felt more teetering on friendship already.
Safi pulled her in close after the last notes were played and planted a kiss on the back of her hand, then took a step back.
“How refined of you,” Maxine chuckled, her face burning. The air between them felt electric, like the rest of the world was drowned out and they were in the eye of the storm.
“I’m always a gentleman, Max.” Her voice was sultry, and Maxine swallowed with newfound nervousness. After an uncertain pause, the cheering of the crowd and the demand of ‘another song’ bought them out of the trance.
“Well,” Maxine laughed, trying to break the tension, “I could use another drink after that. I don’t quite feel drunk enough yet.”
Safi nodded, her eyes still glued on Maxine. “I… I think I’m too sober for this as well,” she said with a gulp.
“Safiya!”
Safi stiffened, her eyes flicking from her to over her shoulder. Her hand moved to hover near her side pocket, which was covered by her coat, where usually one might expect a weapon. When she looked close enough, Maxine could see the shiny glint behind Safi’s coat that had to belong to a revolver. Which wasn’t uncommon for a person to carry, per say, but still confronting.
“Safi!” Maxine recognised the voice as belonging to Yasmin’s carriage driver from earlier that morning, snaking through the crowd, bumping into a couple of people on the way.
Safi’s hand fell back at her side and she turned around, giving the man a sharp look as he stopped in front of her. “Don’t call me that, Vinh. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until tonight?”
Vinh narrowed his eyes at Safi and then spotted Maxine behind her. “You’re from the photography studio, if I’m not mistaken? I apologise for Safiya, she can be a bit much too soon.”
Before Maxine could respond about how much Safi had actually been the exact opposite of a bother, Safi grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pushed him back towards the entrance, despite his protest.
“Hey—what are you doing?” Vinh stuttered as he was shoved backwards.
“We’re not having this conversation here.” She looked back and Maxine, where she stood somewhat anxiously. “Wait inside, I’ll only be a minute.”
As they pushed through the door, Maxine debated following after them. It wasn’t any of her business what they discussed. It was likely something to do with Safi’s work. But Maxine was a curious person, and Safi had barged into her life this morning and made it feel as though they had known each other for years. God help her if she wanted to be a little nosey. After a bit of hesitance, she trailed after them, lingering by the half doors and peering through.
Vinh and Safi were already engaged in a frankly loud whisper, as Safi continued to push him until they were standing by the horses at the front of the building.
“...But I know you, Safiya. You don’t just go dancing with anyone,” Vinh said, crossing his arms. And, oh, they’re still talking about her.
“What are you implying there?” Safi snapped, putting a hand on her hip. For a brief second, it crossed Maxine’s mind if Vinh had meant that Safi was... no, she was putting the cart before the horse with that line of thought.
“You think she knows something?” Vinh clarified, and Safi shook her head.
“No. I just think she’s interesting.” Maxine wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. At least she wasn’t being used for information. “Now are you going to tell me what it is you came here for?”
Behind her, someone grumbled an ‘excuse me,’ and Maxine jumped out of the way, bashful. When they left and the doors stopped swinging, she peeked back through the doors, ever slightly more cautious this time.
Outside, Vinh waited for the man to leave before he continued. “I spoke with some of the hotel workers. Went to the fanciest one- it’s called the Cardinal Hotel. They had a man book a room indefinitely about two weeks ago. Don’t know much other than that; they couldn’t tell me his name.”
“That could be anyone. You came here to tell me that we have no evidence?” Evidence of what? If Safi was looking for someone, why was it? Her mind flicks back to the revolver Safi carried—but perhaps more logically someone owed her and had run from their debt.
“You told me to tell you if I figure anything out! I don’t work for you, Safiya. I shouldn’t be doing your dirty work in the first place.”
“I can get you fired, though,” She says, and then whipped around to walk back up the stairs to the saloon. Max froze and stepped away from the door and out of sight. Very Inconspicuois.
“Wait! Okay, wait. I went to the hotel’s stable, there was a horse that looks almost identical to his there.”
Safi footsteps stilled at the other side of the door. “Did you check for the branding?”
“I couldn’t get close enough.”
Safi sighed. “Thank you for trying. Go, find Yasmin. I’m sure she’s looking for you by this hour.”
Safi pushed back through the door, and Maxine stepped in front of her with her hands behind her back like an idiot.
“Max! You weren’t listening in, were you?” Safi asked, startled.
“No! I… I simply became paranoid and was wondering when you would be back, that’s all,” she stalls. “Would you like to dance again? Maybe another round of drinks?”
Safi shook her head, and Maxine worried that she had done something wrong. Besides listening to their private conversation, of course. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve got some business to attend to.”
“Oh, well, that’s alright.” Was it odd that she was already feeling quite upset over the idea of leaving the woman’s presence? Had her heart already grown that fond? “Will I be seeing you again sometime soon? I’d hate for this to be a one time thing…”
“Don’t you worry about that. In fact, are you busy tomorrow?”
Well, tomorrow was a lot sooner that what she bargained for, but she’d take it. “Only up until 2 in the afternoon. Why’s that?”
“We’re going to see a man about a horse together. But I bet you already heard all about that,” Safi said, with a sly smirk on her face. She had definitely realised Maxine had been listening in, then. “Meet me across from the Cardinal Hotel, at, let’s say… 3pm?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” Was Maxine going to be the distraction then, while Safiya snuck up to the hotel patron’s stable? She had no issues in assisting her, but she hoped to be clued in on who exactly they were looking for and why.
“Oh—wait. You don’t have a way home, do you? How about you take Nebbie? I’m not staying too far away from this street, I can walk back.”
“Are you sure?” Maxine asks, slightly bewildered that she had already gained that much trust.
“I’m sure she likes you more than me already. Just make sure you bring her with you tomorrow—in case we have to make a getaway.”