Tess

by Margaret Tanner

  “Yes. Roll over.”

  If only I’d have known about such things when Edwin Benditt raped me, I wouldn’t have been impregnated. Wouldn’t have nearly bled to death when he punched and beat me around the stomach to dislodge it.

  As she spoke, Chloe massaged her legs and back with long firm strokes and kneaded the flesh around her shoulders. “The boss has black moods and disappears for days at a time. Only Jenkins knows where he goes and what he does.”

  Tess closed her eyes. It felt so good having her skin and flesh massaged and the aroma of fragrant oils relaxed her, somehow eased the hurt of Nathan’s cruel remarks. She couldn’t understand why they had hurt so much as she had received plenty of angry taunts from Vince when Rolf wasn’t around. She shuddered on thinking about it. Anything that happened here couldn’t be worse than what Vince had in store for her.

  “Roll over and I will anoint the front of you.”

  Tess did as she was asked.

  “You have suffered at the hands of men in the past, I can tell. If you please Nathan he will let you stay, if not up here with him, then maybe he will use your circus skills to entertain the members of his secret society.”

  Chloe helped her down from the table.

  She handed over a soft white camisole with matching pantaloons. Slipping a blue gown over her head, Tess somehow managed to button up the bodice. Her hair was now braided and hung down her back in a shiny plait. She hoped she looked attractive. Her appearance had never worried her before, although much and all as it pained her to admit it, she wanted to look well for Nathan. She couldn’t understand why she wanted his approval so badly. She slipped on a pair of black shoes.

  They returned to the sitting room and Nathan was sprawled out in an armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He stood on noticing them.

  “Will there be anything else, boss?”

  “No, thank you, go now, just close the door on your way out, I’ll lock it.

  Tess waited nervously, balancing on one foot, then the other, she didn’t know what to do, what he expected.

  He stared at her for a moment, then stood and strode to the outer door and locked it with a loud click. “We’ll go through the double doors, there’s a gate in the garden which leads to the stables.”

  He stood back as she passed through the glass doors and stepped into the sun. Clamping on a black Stetson, he followed her.

  Chapter Three

  The summer sun was warm on her skin, the roses bloomed and she inhaled their delicate perfume. They passed through an archway and stepped down to a lower garden. This was mostly short grass with a built-up herb garden and a few shrubs. From what seemed a hundred miles away, she heard the muted sounds of Deadwood’s busy main street. The garden stretched for some way, the depth of it surprising.

  “There’s an area where you can exercise the horse. It’s too public anywhere else. Some of my members stable their horses here, too.”

  A solid wooden gate was set in the middle of a high wall. The stable was large, cool and inviting inside. She counted eight stalls on each side. A couple of young grooms scurried around. One eyed her boldly, until a cold stare from Nathan had him lowering his head.

  Halfway down she spotted Grenadier with his head poked over the stall door. He nickered a welcome.

  “How are you boy?” She flung her arms around his neck.

  As Nathan opened the door. Fleabag gave a welcoming woof.

  “How are you, my darling?” She left Grenadier and knelt down on the fresh hay.

  She saw Nathan glance up from stroking Grenadier and stare at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

  Fleabag’s coat felt smooth, quite soft and she realized it had been washed and brushed. Likewise, Grenadier, his coat, mane and tail glistened.

  Fleabag raised himself and wagged his tail, although he did not put any weight on his sore leg.

  Nathan stepped away from the horse and squatted down beside the dog. After giving him a gentle pat on the head, he opened the dog’s mouth, and inspected his teeth. “This is an elderly dog.” He ran his hand down his body. His leg has been broken and left to mend on its own.”

  “It must have been before I found him.”

  “He’s only got one eye. I think he should be humanely put down.”

  “No.” She flung herself at Nathan. “He’s my dog.”

  Her sudden attack knocked him on to his back and she landed on top of him, her face colliding with his.

  He laughed. “Anxious for me, my sweet?”

  He pushed her away, sprang to his feet, then reached down and pulled her up also. He dragged her into his arms and his mouth closed over hers, his tongue forcing a passage between her teeth. It darted and dipped, tangling with hers until she responded, her tongue joining his in a primitive dance of sexual power and need. He deepened his kiss and she clung to him, her legs felt so weak they struggled to hold her up.

  Suddenly, he stepped away. “Time we were getting back, I’ve got work to do.”

  She gave Fleabag and Grenadier a final pat and hurried out of the stall, waiting while he secured the door behind them. With a hand in the middle of her back, he propelled her along. As they left the stable a groom rushed up to them, a young Negro was all she had time to notice.

  “Exercise the white stallion please.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Nothing too strenuous.”

  “No whip,” Tess said.

  “You heard the lady, no whip.”

  Nathan gave her a none too gentle shove. “You’re the one who needs to be whipped. I won’t tolerate you issuing orders to my workers. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He strode along and she had to run to keep up. Anger bounced off his body. She shouldn’t have undermined his authority by issuing an order to the boy, but she couldn’t let him use a whip on Grenadier.

  “Whip me, not my horse.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he snapped. “Besides, he’s my horse. I’m the one who bought him.”

  They had reached the gate by this time; he unlocked it, pushed her through then locked it behind them.

  What form of retribution did he have in store for her? There would be something, it was a certainty.

  She was a circus performer, an acrobat, which gave her power over him, and if she wanted to stay with him she would have to use it.

  Without speaking he led her into his bedroom, poured water into a bowl and handed her a piece of soap. After she had washed her hands, he did likewise. That was one thing she had noticed about him, he was fastidiously clean.

  He took her to bed, his need was so great he couldn’t wait until night time. He couldn’t believe what Tess did to him, she was a contortionist. If she rode the horse naked, perhaps performed some of her tricks his members would go loco. Did he want their lecherous eyes on her? It would certainly enhance his standing as the provider of sexual fantasies. He would think on it later, was his last coherent thought.

  ~*~

  Over the next few weeks they spent hours pleasuring each other. Tess could not believe how bold and innovative she had become. Nathan confessed she could maintain positions he never dreamed possible.

  He escorted her to the stable daily to pet Grenadier and Fleabag. The stable boy, Billy, exercised the stallion every day and let him loose in the paddock to munch on the sweet green grass; the boy had taken a liking to the horse.

  Sex and meals were all they ever shared. Nathan would lock himself away in his study, leaving her alone and upset for hours. Foolishly, she had allowed herself to fall in love with him. When? How? She didn’t know. It was hopeless when he didn’t return her love, he probably didn’t even like her. Wild, frantic sex was all he ever wanted from her, and when the fiery flames burned out, they would have nothing. He would cast her aside so he could take up with other women.

  She was doing daily exercises in the garden now, keeping her acrobatic skills honed, her body supple, which gave her some
thing to do when he was not around. It would make it easier for her to obtain another circus job when he banished her. Perhaps she could find Louie’s brother and work at his circus.

  She worried about Fleabag. He could barely walk at all now, spent most of his time resting in the stall or lying stretched out on a patch of grass under the shade of a tree. Billy carried him out daily for an hour or two so the old dog could feel the warmth of the sun on his fur, smell the fresh clean air.

  ~*~

  This one particular day, she stood on a brick, eyes closed, arms flung up above her head, swaying from side to side.

  “Tess.”

  She opened her eyes and Nathan was in front of her. Not one flicker of emotion showed on his face, he might well have been cast from stone.

  “Your dog is dead.”

  “No. No.” She turned to run for the stables.

  He caught up to her in a couple of strides. “There’s nothing you can do for him now. I had him put down.”

  “You shot Fleabag.” She threw herself at him, pummeling his chest. He grabbed her flailing arms and held them to stop her maddened assault, so she lashed out at his legs with her feet. She connected with his shin and he cursed with pain.

  “I hate you.” She was crying and screaming now.

  “I didn’t shoot him, we used one of Chloe’s potions and he fell into a peaceful sleep and didn’t wake up.”

  He let her go; she slumped to the ground and lay sobbing.

  “Dammit, the poor creature was in pain. Billy said he refused to eat. I wasn’t prepared to let the ugly brute suffer any longer.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

  “Ugly brute!” She picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at his retreating back. Her aim was good and it hit him between the shoulder blades. With a loud curse, he swung around and strode back to her.

  “You vicious whore. How dare you?” He grabbed her arms and shook her. His face darkened with fury, his eyes had a blankness about them now, but his mouth was hard and cruel. Merciless.

  She fought him, kicking and squirming, she freed one arm and lashed out at his face. The shock of her blow loosened his grip, she twisted away and dashed off across the grass.

  For a moment, he stood motionless then with a bellow of rage started after her. He would catch her before she made it inside. Frantically she glanced around. He was only a couple of yards away and gaining.

  She sprang forward, grabbed hold of a low tree branch and swung herself up. She clambered out of his reach. He prowled around the tree trunk, punctuating every step with a curse. Suddenly he turned away and strode inside.

  She waited, her heart pounding with fear, Nathan had turned on her like a rabid beast. Tears coursed down her cheeks for the loss of Fleabag, and Nathan’s violent reaction to her grief. She was trembling, too fearful to climb down in case he returned, so she closed her eyes to block out the misery.

  Time passed. How long she neither knew nor cared. Her heart was shattered into a thousand pieces. Fleabag was dead and Nathan hated her.

  “Miss.” Jenkins’ voice pierced through her misery. “It’s safe to come down now.”

  She climbed stiffly to the ground. “Where is he?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone! Where to?”

  “He’ll return in a few days.”

  Jenkins didn’t touch her, just patiently waited with a worried expression while she stamped her feet, trying to get the circulation flowing again.

  Once inside the hotel he closed the glass doors. “You stay here Miss, Chloe will bring your meals up. You’re safe, nothing will harm you now.”

  “M…my dog died. Nathan killed him.”

  “It was the kindest thing to do, Miss. He was old and sick, no point in prolonging his agony.”

  Fleabag and Grenadier were all I had.” She scrubbed the tears from her face. “I kicked Nathan, threw a clod of dirt at him. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, but he was so cold, unfeeling.”

  She twisted her hands in agitation when he remained silent. “I…I think he enjoyed telling me, inflicting pain on me.”

  “That’s not the way of it, Nathan has been through so much pain of his own, he would never deliberately inflict it on others.”

  He limped over and tugged at the bell cord. “Chloe will bring you coffee. If you need her at any time, pull the cord and she’ll come.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll be,” he hesitated. “Away for a few days.”

  “With Nathan?”

  He gave no answer yet she knew that’s where he’d be.

  “You care for him?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You’re not to worry.” He patted her hand. “Nathan sometimes gets into black moods, never fear, he’ll return within a few days and be back to his old self.”

  A knock interrupted them. He unlocked the wooden door and Chloe walked in bearing a tray containing coffee and sandwiches.

  “Come.” She set the tray on the table. “Have something to eat Miss Tess, it will make you feel better.”

  “It will be best if you sleep in the spare room, Miss, until Nathan returns. There’s a bell cord there if you need Chloe.” Jenkins limped over to the main bedroom and locked the door, dropping the key into his pocket. Her suspicions were confirmed - Nathan was in the cellar room.

  “He’s down in the cellar room, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”

  “Best if you don’t ask questions, Miss.”

  “Please, I have to know. Maybe I could help him.”

  “Listen to me. If Nathan wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

  She stamped her foot, reaching out she grabbed the sleeve of his coat. “Please, it’s my fault.”

  “It is not your fault.” A pulse jerked at the side of his jaw. “The blame lies with his treacherous brother and the Confederate army. Lock the door after me,” he instructed Chloe.

  After Jenkins departed, Chloe locked the door. “We can share the coffee,” she said. “You’ll feel better once you have food in your belly. Would you like a massage?”

  “No thank you. I want to know what happened to Nathan.”

  “I can’t tell you, but he’s safe. You love him?”

  “No, I mean yes.” Tess rested her head on her arms and sobbed.

  “There, there, gal. I know you love him I can see it in your eyes. He’s safe, Jenkins will care for him. Drink your coffee and I’ll tell you what little I know.”

  Tess raised her head and gazing into the other woman’s eyes, there was no doubting her compassion. With trembling hands, Tess raised the cup to her lips and took a couple of sips, then picked up a sandwich and nibbled on it.

  “Is he down in the cellar?”

  “Yes.”

  Tess stifled a gasp of shock, one thing surmising it, having her suspicions confirmed was another matter entirely.

  “Every now and again he gets into black moods. They only last for a few days. He stays in the cellar in case he gets violent. Jenkins stays down there with him most of the time.”

  “Why doesn’t he see a doctor?”

  Chloe shrugged. “He probably has, I don’t know. I’ve been supplying him with special herbs to calm him down when he has these turns. Jenkins says they help, but don’t settle the rages completely. He was a prisoner of war and tortured. You knew that?”

  “Sort of, I had a feeling something bad had happened to him during the war, so I guessed he was a soldier. He hates the dark, always leaves a lantern burning at night.” She had only been a child when war raged between the North and South. Brother against brother, father against son. It must have been awful for everyone involved.

  “Jenkins was in the prison with him. That’s all I know.” Chloe handed her another sandwich. Eat up, you need to stay strong.”

  “I accused him of killing Fleabag, my dog. I attacked him and it sparked his black mood.”

  “You weren’t to know. He’s been worried about your pet for a few days, asked me if I could give him
something. He didn’t want to shoot him, but didn’t want the animal to suffer. He was an old dog who had lived a hard life, it was an act of mercy.”

  “He had suffered in the past, I know, but my dog and my horse are all I have. When I found Fleabag, well we found each other, he was badly beaten.”

  “And you, girl, you were running away?”

  “Yes, I was beaten too. Please.” Tess ran a trembling hand across her forehead. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. I dare not.”

  “Your secret would be safe with me.” Chloe picked up her hand and squeezed it. “And you do have a dark secret, don’t you?”

  A shaft of cold fear shot through her. Did Chloe have the gift of second sight? She dabbled in herbs and potions. Black magic, spells, maybe?

  ~*~

  That night in bed, Tess tossed and turned trying to sleep. She missed the warmth of Nathan’s body, the hot passion they shared. He was right underneath her, she was tempted to get out of bed, lie on the floor and see if she could hear him. Maybe he would sense her nearness and that would help him. It hurt because he had not trusted her enough to explain about his black moods; why should he? Why criticize him when she was keeping secrets. Hers were much worse. She had killed a man. What would Nathan say if he knew? Would he hand her over to the Sheriff?

  Rolling over, she pummeled the pillow. The hotel was silent, even in daylight there was little noise. What went on in the secret parts of this place, she had no idea. The walls were made of large planks filled with earth, then rendered with a thick clay coating so no sound could penetrate.

  She had never seen Nathan’s mysterious society members or any of the women who serviced them, either here or in the adjoining saloon. He must be very rich, yet it didn’t appear to make him happy. Like her, he was scarred by past events. Out in the garden she sometimes heard the noise of Deadwood, even though they were on the edge of town.

  She stretched out in the bed, cuddled a pillow and finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Next morning Tess washed and slipped into a pink gown with lace on the sleeves and bodice. Chloe had supplied her with several gowns, and two sets of undergarments. It was the most clothes she had ever owned.