˜*˜
A local Preacher married them in the afternoon. Sophie Bear was now Sophie Russell. She gazed in awe at the gold wedding band Max had placed on her finger, scarcely believing how lucky she was.
It was a wrench parting from her father. “Goodbye, Pa.” She blinked back tears.
“Goodbye, daughter, I wish you every happiness.” His eyes looked moist. “Write to me at the Trading Post.”
“I will Pa, I promise.” She couldn’t read or write very well.
“Come along, my sweet.” Max cupped his hand under her elbow. “I’m anxious to have my wife to myself. Goodbye Mr. Bear. Be assured I will take good care of Sophie.”
After her father left them to sell his furs and head for home, Sophie nervously glanced at Max.
“My sweet, we need to buy you a few clothes. You can’t walk around looking like an Indian squaw.”
He slipped his arm through hers and they strolled over to the Mercantile. Sophie gasped in shock on seeing such an array of products. Max watched indulgently as she oohed and aahed. He bought her two new gowns, one in blue and the other in pink, each with a matching bonnet, also undergarments, the like of which she had never seen, let alone worn before. Her heart was so full of love for him she thought it might burst.
They shared supper at Al’s diner before making their way to the hotel. At the door of their room she baulked. What did a man expect from his wife? She had no idea.
“Come along, my sweet, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about pleasing me.”
Several boxes and parcels rested on the floor of the bedroom, but she barely had time to notice as Max pushed the door shut with his food, and dragged her into his arms.
Hours later, as Max snored softly beside her, she now knew what a man expected from his wife. After the initial pain of consummating their marriage, it had not been unpleasant. Shockingly, surprisingly, given her youth and upbringing, she had enjoyed it.
Max was an experienced man and he had shown her every step of the way. Like he said, she had a lot to learn before she could truly pleasure him.
They left Spruce in their covered wagon, to join a wagon train. It was led by a retired army Major, two army scouts and other trail hands, so she felt safe.
As the days passed, Max became quite scathing of the settlers in the wagons ahead of them, which was why he wouldn’t allow her mix with them, or if contact couldn’t be avoided, she had to wear a veil over her face.
She would have liked to have been able to sit around the campfires at night gossiping with the other women.
At night when she prepared their super he never left her side. “These people are not to be trusted,” he always said. “I’m here to protect you, my sweet, it’s a husband’s job to do so.”
“The women seem quite nice.”
“I cannot allow you to mix with them. I promised your father I would look after you and I will. Now, pretty yourself up for me, and be ready to pleasure your husband for an hour or so.”
“Only an hour?”
“Well.” He chuckled. “For as long as it takes you to learn new ways to entertain me.”
Without another word, she washed the dishes and moved back inside the wagon, removed her clothing and lay naked on the bed awaiting his return. She was lucky he was so protective of her.
She heard the murmur of voices, children’s laughter and felt envious. The scent of wood smoke, and a sudden yearning for Pa and the mountain almost overwhelmed her. Would she ever see him again?
Tears clung to the back of her eyes. She couldn’t let them fall. Max once said he hated women who cried because it showed how weak they were, and he wouldn’t tolerate such behavior in a wife.
Even when he expected so much of her in their marital bed, when her whole body ached, and she could barely walk the next day, she didn’t cry. This was a wife’s job, to give her husband her body to use in any way he saw fit, otherwise he was entitled to cast her aside and find another more obliging woman.
Max was her whole life. She had no-one except him. If he decided to cast her aside, she would be friendless, alone and destitute. She now knew that money bought things in the shops, but didn’t have any of her own. Pa used to always trade his furs for what he needed.
Chapter Three
For a month they travelled without mishap; even with her limited knowledge she knew before the wagon master, Major Fraser, called a meeting of the settlers all was not well.
“Folks, we are not covering enough miles each day. Some of you disregarded my advice and overloaded you’re wagons, other haven’t bought enough provisions for such a long arduous journey.”
He glanced around at the crowd.
“Three days travel from here the trail forks, and those of you who fall behind should take that road. It will lead to Fort Brix, where the army can escort you through the Indian country. You will be travelling only one hundred and fifty miles to get to the free-range land, instead of nearly eight hundred miles with me.”
Angry murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Jase and me, will personally inspect every wagon for their suitability to continue.”
“You can’t do that,” one man yelled.
“We all paid our money,” someone else said.
“Listen to me. I can’t risk the safety of the majority for a minority who won’t, or can’t keep up. If the snow comes before we get through those mountain passes.” He waved his hand toward the distant, brooding mountains. “We will all perish.”
“The land past Fort Brix ain’t much good,” a heavily bewhiskered man said. “I knowed, I been there and I ain’t goin’.”
“Me either,” said another man. Sophie glanced at him. He was much younger, well dressed compared to most of the other men, and spoke in a similar way to Max. His wife always sheltered under the shade of a pretty umbrella exactly the same color as the gown she wore.
“All right.” Major Fraser said. “Dump that ridiculous piano you’re carrying.”
“No! No!” the wife shrieked. “I must have it. It belonged to Mama.”
“Listen, Lady,” Fraser snapped. “Is it worth dying for?”
Backward and forward the arguments ebbed and flowed.
“Sonofabitch, Jase. If I’d known there were so many stupid tenderfoots, I’d never have taken on this wagon master job.”
“I’ll go with those heading for Fort Brix with a couple of the men,” Jase said. “We can catch up with you later on.”
“Right, that’s what we’ll do.”
“What are we going to do, Max?” Sophie asked when he joined her inside the wagon. Night had fallen and it was pitch black except for the flickering fires ringing the encircled wagons.
“I’ll think about it later, at the moment, all I want to do is feast on that pretty flesh of yours.” He reached for her unresisting body.
“What would you like?”
“Anything I’m in the mood for, my little whore.”
Sophie knew all too well what that meant. There would be no petting and playing with her tonight. He would be rough and insensitive. Treat her like he would a woman from a whorehouse. Without respect or consideration. With such savagery that if she didn’t know he loved her, she would think he actually hated her.
˜*˜
Two days after Major Fraser had given the settlers his ultimatum, they were near the end of the wagon train when the wheel came off their wagon and they nearly tipped over.
“Get out of the wagon.” Max ordered, but make sur you cover your face. I don’t want you getting burnt and ending up looking like some farmer’s wife with a red face and dried out skin. You can sit under those trees.”
Max cursed and stomped around because several wagons passed them and not one stopped to help.
Finally, a wagon did stop. A man jumped down. “Looks like you could do with some help, neighbor,” he said.
“Thank you for stopping. I’m Max Russell. My wife has a delicate constitution so she c
an’t help me.” He waved his hand at her.
The men walked to the other side of the wagon so she could only see their legs. The stranger wore scuffed brown boots and the hem of one trouser leg was frayed. She could hear them talking but didn’t catch exactly what they said.
It seemed like forever until the wheel was fixed. No other wagon had passed them for quite some time, and all she could see of the wagon train now was a cloud of dust in the distance.
Raised voices were suddenly followed by silence. “Get in the wagon,” Max yelled.
“What happened?” She saw the man lying face down on the ground.
“Just get in the wagon.” He lifted her up and almost threw her in. “Ya. Ya.” The whip cracked, the wagon lurched forward and she almost banged her head. “Ya. Ya. The whip cracked again and the wagon picked up speed.
She crawled up to the front and peered over the back of the seat. Max was flailing the horses, the whip cracking with a snap against their rumps.
“What happened?”
“Our water barrels were crushed and that miserable sod buster wouldn’t give me a couple of his, so I knocked him out and took them.”
“But, Max…”
“Be quiet. I did what I had to do. Without water we’re dead.”
“What about them?”
“I didn’t take it all, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
˜*˜
For the next three years they were like gypsies travelling from far flung town to far flung town. Finally, they made it to Deadwood. Sophie had realized after about six months of marriage that Max was a gambler, and not always honest.
They drove down the main street of Deadwood, a busy, thriving place, if the numerous people, horses and buggies were anything to go by. Halfway down the street she saw an enormous stature of a rearing black horse near a long hitching rail.
Max drove their now battered wagon down the side of an imposing two story building. It had fancy ironwork on the top verandah which ran the full length of the second floor.
A red headed woman in a bright green dress, cut so low her breasts were almost popping out, met them.
“Well, Max, I’ve been wondering when you’d show up.”
“And hello to you too, Delores, meet Sophie, my wife.”
“Wife!”
Sophie watched the woman’s eyes flash momentarily before she inclined her head. “Welcome to the Bucking Stallion saloon, Sophie. My you are a pretty girl, and so young. You always did like very young women, didn’t you, Max?”
He gave Delores a hard stare, his nostrils flared although his voice remained even. “You know me all too well, my dear. Young women are much more malleable than older ones. More anxious to please a man, too.”
“Will you be staying?”
“Yes, for a while. You’re weary from all this travelling aren’t you, my sweet?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you better come inside. Sam,” Delores yelled and a young man wearing a fancy blue waist coat dashed out. “Unload the wagon and help these people move into the red suite.”
Just like that, Sophie couldn’t believe how quickly and effortlessly everything happened. Their suite was upstairs and consisted of a large bedroom and parlor with red velvet curtains and bed covering. Brass fittings and red and green glass lanterns. Sophie gasped with pleasure. Never had she seen such a beautiful, lavishly furnished place.
“Do you like it, my sweet?”
“It’s beautiful. Oh, Max, I love it.”
“Good. Have a rest while I check on a few things with Delores, then…” His hand shot out and squeezed her breast. “When I return, you can show me how grateful you are.”
A trunk containing her clothes was carried to her room by Sam. A maid brought in a jug of hot water and emptied it into a bowl. “Delores said you might like to wash off your travel dust.”
“Yes, I would. Thank you.” Sighing, she undressed and washed her body with the water the maid had brought in, retired to bed and waited for Max.
˜*˜
As the weeks passed Max’s behavior became erratic. He was spending increasingly more time with Delores, and she no longer wore demure dresses. Instead, he expected her to dress in a similar way to Delores and the other women who worked at the saloon. Brightly colored dresses lavishly trimmed with black lace or gold braid. They were always low cut, so the swell of her breasts were clearly visible. She was also expected to circulate amongst the men in the saloon, enticing them to buy expensive drinks or to avail themselves of the women upstairs.
Max would often take her out for lunch, always making her wear the low cut gowns. “I don’t like to be seen like this. Please don’t make me go,” she pleaded. “Men stare at me and women edge away from me. You heard them yesterday. That haughty woman called me a whore, and her husband smirked and said not a whore my dear – a soiled dove.”
“Well, you are a whore,” Delores said, grabbing her shoulder. “You’re no better than my soiled doves upstairs.”
“I’m not. I’m a respectable married woman.”
“Tell her, Max. For once in your life be honest.”
“Shut up,” he snarled.
“I’m his wife,” Delores said.
“No. No. The Preacher married us, and….”
“He married me ten years ago.” Delores rocked back on her heels. “That makes you, well, his mistress I suppose.”
Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, Max, say it isn’t true.” She felt ill, wanted to vomit. The blood roared in her eardrums until she thought they would burst.
He didn’t need to deny it with words, the guilty flush on his face answered for him. Sophie staggered upstairs and collapsed on the bed. How could he do such a dreadful thing to her? What would happen to her now? The sobs grew louder.
She had nowhere to go, no money and no-one to turn too. No wonder he had flaunted her on the streets of Deadwood in the garish, low cut gowns. No decent person would want anything to do with her. She was tainted, branded a whore.
After an hour or two, she got up from the bed, washed her face and decided to go downstairs. How naïve and foolish she had been at sixteen to love a man like him. She and Pa hadn’t known what he was like when they first met. It had taken a couple of years for his true colors to show up.
Raised voices had her hesitating halfway down the stairs.
“It’s about time she earned her keep,” Delores yelled.
Sophie clutched her chest, and held her breath.
“No,” Max said.
“Vincent offered me a hundred dollars if he could have her for a few days,” Delores said.
Bile rose up in Sophie’s throat. Breathless, she waited to hear what Max would say.
“A hundred dollars would be handy,” he said.
Her legs nearly collapsed under her, and she clung to the bannister to remain upright.
“Knowing you.” Delores gave a tinkling laugh. “She will be well versed in how to pleasure men.”
“You know me so well,” Max said. “Tell Vincent he can have her, to do with as he wishes, but no rough stuff, if he pays us one hundred and fifty dollars, and that’s my final offer. If he agrees he can start on her tonight. Say about nine o’clock.”
Sophie staggered back to their suite. She was shaking so much her teeth clicked together. I have to get away. How? She had no money, no clothes except the garish gowns Max had provided.
Suddenly she remembered the buckskin dress she had worn in what seemed another lifetime. She would return to the mountain and Pa. Escape was paramount. She would have supper to allay suspicion, and once dusk fell would leave this evil place. She would have to steal a horse from the livery stable. With a rifle, bullets and a hunting knife, she could live off the land, and everything she needed was stowed in the wardrobe.
How far was the mountain from Deadwood? She had no idea, but didn’t doubt her ability to find her way home. The hardest part of her escape would be getting away from the saloon
without detection.
Chapter Four
Present Time:
Sophie raced toward the pool and the steamy water. She turned her head to make sure Gabe had not followed before removing her dress. Stepping into the warm water she waded out to the middle where it reached neck high. What bliss. She stretched out on her back and floated with her eyes closed, savoring this luxury. The last time she had bathed her body in warm water was at Delores’ saloon. In the summer, she had swum in the river with her Lakota friends.
She cleaned her body and limbs as best she could without soap or a cloth. Likewise, her hair and now it was clean it reached almost to waist level.
Gabe strode toward the pool with a blanket and a piece of canvas in his hand. The gal would need something to dry herself on. He skidded to a halt. She lay on her back floating on the water with her eyes closed. Her hair splayed out over her shoulders like a shimmering cloak. Her pert breasts had flattened only a little and the pink nipples glistened.
He dragged off his clothes, dived into the water and swam over to her.
“Have I found myself a little water nymph?” he asked.
She plunged under the water and he grasped her arm as she surfaced choking and spluttering.
“What are you doing here, Gabe?”
“I felt like a swim. Now I’ve seen all of you, I want you, Sophie,” he said. “Will you be my woman?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer, just covered her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue into the warm depths, enjoying the taste of her. She made a sound, he wasn’t sure whether it was a sigh or groan, but her tongue entangled with his and took up the frantic dance. She returned his kisses, hot, eager and wanton. She was no innocent maiden was his last coherent thought.
Picking her up, he strode from the water. “Don’t refuse me Sophie Bear. It can be good between us. I’ve wanted a permanent woman in my life for some time, only I couldn’t find anyone suitable.”
Sophie slipped her arms around Gabe’s neck, her desire for him was surprisingly intense.
Sophie Page 3