by Alice Addy
Ty smiled. It had been an exceedingly long day and he had more questions, but they would have to wait until tomorrow. Had there even been a fire? If so, where? If not, then who was behind the lie and why? He was just too tired to try to figure it all out, tonight. He trudged up to his lonely bed with visions of Eve dancing in his head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eve was slowly coming out of the thick haze that had enshrouded her for the last several days. Everything was all too painful to recall, so she chose not to dwell on the recent events. She remembered Ty holding her and telling her he loved her. He said something about his ranch, but none of it made sense. She didn’t understand why he had to return home, rather than stay with her, and she resented it. At this time, he should have chosen to remain with her. Surely nothing could have been more important.
Oddly enough, it was Sam who had returned to her in her hour of distress. It was puzzling. She hated him so much, however, he’d been nothing but good and helpful to her and the rest of the girls since his return. He’d even given them money to ensure their success. Sam was working hard for her, she thought, and he had apologized, over and over again, for the angry words he had said the last time he was in the Six Gun. He explained how he was shocked and insulted that they would think he’d do something as horrible as wound a beautiful animal. Yes, he had made threats, but they were empty threats. He loved Eve and she didn’t return his feelings. He’d made peace with that now, and he just wanted to help her and Whiskey . . . if the old man ever returned.
“Trust me, Eve,” Sam insisted. “I won’t do anything that you don’t first approve. I do see a real need for immediate cash, though. We need to get men through those doors again, and soon. More gaming tables would do it. And we’ve got to hire a few more women—women that like men. But of course, I’ll do the hiring. It wouldn’t be proper for you to concern yourself with things of that nature.” He was always thinking of her reputation and was constantly solicitous of her feelings.
Eve noticed that Sam was getting excited at the prospects of a new and improved Six Gun. She could see it reflected in the glint of his eyes. He’d even stopped drinking since returning to the saloon. He was simply too happy and that rankled Eve. This was what he always said he wanted.
Sam worked night and day on the place. He painted and he rearranged the tables to allow for more gaming tables. Eve noticed that he ordered more liquor, but only the cheap stuff that Whiskey refused to serve his customers. Women were brought in and never introduced to Eve. They were not ladies like Lisette or Meredith. They were women of another sort, altogether, and Eve didn’t like them. The gals were given rooms at the top of the stairs, for easy access, and Sam had taken over Frieda’s room, without asking Eve.
Things were moving too fast, leaving Eve confused. Was this her saloon or Sam’s dream? They had never discussed his investment. Originally, he was just helping her. Now it seemed he had total control. Though Eve didn’t approve of his tactics and his overbearing attitude, she tried to stay out of his way. She simply didn’t possess the energy or the strength to defy him.
Ty hadn’t been around for more than a month, not since Frieda’s funeral, and that hurt Eve. Why hadn’t he returned as he said he would? What was so important to keep him away from town? And where the hell was Whiskey?
Eve didn’t like the new bartender. He wasn’t too clean and he looked shifty. Sam said he was needed to keep the peace—not to look pretty. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt if the man bathed and stopped stinking up the place,” Eve grumbled.
The new saloon girls ignored her, altogether. Sometimes they would look at her with contempt and giggle. It was as if she was the butt of some private joke. She’d show them, she vowed. When the saloon reopened, she’d put on her best dress and knock them all dead with her singing and dancing. Not to brag, but she knew that’s where she excelled and the malicious women were in for a shock.
Finally, the big night arrived. The new Paradise Saloon opened it doors and the men filed through. The place did look nice—in a disreputable kind of way. It was on the garish side and it was just what a lot of the men expected to see in a place catering to gambling and loose women. A poorly executed painting of a plump nude hung proudly behind the bar.
But Eve hadn’t really taken notice of the ghastly décor. It felt, to her, as if she had no connection to the Paradise, therefore, she cared little about it.
Bo was Eve’s one constant. He had managed to stay on and kept watch over her, even refusing to leave her alone with the gambler. Sam had warned him to keep his fingers on the piano and his mouth shut. In order to stay close, Bo had agreed not to cause trouble. Tonight, he played for hours, anticipating the return of Eve to the stage. When she finally appeared, he wasn’t disappointed. She stole his breath away. He had seen her look beautiful before, but tonight, she was magnificent.
As his piano announced her arrival, the men stopped and stared at the glorious vision descending the stairs. They’d never seen anything like her. Some of the old customers were ready to hear her sing, but a lot of the men had never been in the old Six Gun. They hoped the beautiful songbird would be available for the night. Excitement filled the room and the men started to make rude comments, getting rowdy, all vying for her attention.
“Hello, boys,” she purred. “Want to hear some singing?”
Most of the crowd hollered and cheered, but there were a few that wanted the beauty for something other than her singing. They yelled out nasty things, revolting things that Eve had never heard before. With her cheeks flaming, she chose to ignore their crude remarks and sing.
As the piano started up, she began her set. She sounded superb and she held the crowd in the palm of her hand. Even the noisy ones had fallen under her spell. After her third song, the men were as docile as little boys. They no longer had any interest in losing their money at the tables or filling their bellies with the cheap, watered-down whiskey that was being served. And just as Eve had hoped, the women, hired by Sam, were scowling and grumbling to one another. How could they entice the cowboys to spend good money on them, when they only had eyes for one copper-haired beauty, singing like an angel? They couldn’t compete, and they were furious.
It grew late and the last drunken cowboy was put out on the sidewalk, happy and a lot poorer than when he first arrived. Sam laughed. It was like taking candy from babies. There was just one problem. He turned toward Eve.
“I will not stand for you to dress like that, in front of these men. I swear, Eve, you don’t have a brain in that beautiful head of yours. They couldn’t think of anything but getting under your skirts. Is that what you want? You want to entertain the men in that way? If you do, let me know, ‘cause I’ll be able to make more money off of you than I do the poker tables.”
Eve was stunned, and before she knew what she had done, she felt the sting of Sam’s cheek beneath her palm. “How dare you! I’ll have you know, Frieda approved of this dress. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it and the men liked it. They thought I was pretty. Even the rough ones calmed down after I started singing. You’re just jealous!”
Sam rubbed his reddened cheek and scowled. “That’s right, Eve. I am jealous. I’m jealous enough to plug every man that even looks at you. And maybe the dress is appropriate on any other woman, but you’re not like any other woman. You’re perfection, Eve. You don’t realize what just a glance from you can do to a guy. If you knew the extent of the power you held over a man, you could destroy him completely.” Sam knew this was true, for that was the power she held over him. “I only want to keep you safe, and yes, I hope that someday, you’ll learn to love me.”
“Love you? Sam, I’m thankful for all your help with the business, but you know I love Ty. You won’t change my mind.”
“And where is this love of yours?” Sam inquired, his upper lip curling back over his teeth. “I’d never have left you all alone. Maybe you love him a little more than he loves you. Did you ever think of that?”
“Sam,
you’re hateful! And furthermore, I don’t approve of those women you hired. Fire them and I’ll help you hire new ladies for the saloon.”
“Ladies? Oh, Eve. You’re priceless,” he laughed loudly.
Eve could feel her face heat to a slow burn. The scoundrel was making fun of her. “We’ll see, Sam. Don’t forget this is my saloon,” she threatened, as she stomped her foot and turned to rush up the stairs.
Sam heard the bolt being thrown on Eve’s door. Unseen in the empty saloon, he allowed himself to feel the fury that filled his soul. “Bitch!” he murmured. “You’ll see.”
*
As the weeks passed, Sam’s control tightened on the Paradise and on everyone in it. It was filled to capacity every night, and every night someone was threatened, or beat up, or thrown out into the street. Men constantly staggered up and down the stairs to visit the ladies, in private. Sam ran his tables like a tyrant. Nothing escaped his notice and he very seldom lost. Unfortunately, Sam now turned his attention toward Eve. The beautiful songbird was the only thing at the Paradise that he didn’t control.
“I must insist. No more than two songs, Eve, and you sing only from the stage. If you choose to disobey me on this, I will simply confine you to your room every evening, and you wouldn’t like that . . . By the way, don’t bother to look for the red dress or the green one. I gave them to Flossie. She’ll let them out a little and wear them for the men. I told you they were not at all appropriate for you, but on a whore, they’ll look fine.”
Eve threw her hairbrush at Sam, missing his head by mere inches, causing him to laugh at her. “I hate you, Sam Garrison. I should never have let you come back.”
“But you did, Eve, and I’ll prove that you did the smart thing. We’re going to be rich, darling. I’ll be able to take you away from this ugly, dirty, little town, and set us up in a mansion. How would you like to live in Chicago or Saint Louis?”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’d go anywhere with you. And for your information, I was born in New York City, so I’ve lived in one of those fancy cities. I prefer Hays!”
Sam had reached his limit with this beautiful but tiresome woman. He grabbed her by her upper arm, just rough enough to get her full attention. “I really don’t give a damn about what you like or dislike, Eve. This is the way it is today and the way it will be tomorrow. You’ll do as I say if you want to perform at all.” He shoved her back against the wall and stormed out of the room.
Eve sang that night, but her heart wasn’t in it, and the crowd noticed. She didn’t make eye contact with any of the men, and smiled only slightly. She didn’t speak to them and never stepped forward from the middle of the stage. All in all, everyone was disappointed.
The next night, it was much the same, as was the following week. Some of the men brought her little gifts to cheer her, but nothing seemed to help. Sam didn’t realize how important singing was to Eve. He didn’t understand it was who she was. She loved to entertain and make people forget their problems—make them happy.
*
Once again, a big trail drive came through town and the Paradise was packed to the rafters. Eve sang her first song from the center of the stage, just as directed by Sam. Even singing half-heartedly, the tired and dirty cowboys were enraptured by the little singer. A combination of cheap whiskey and a woman more beautiful than any they’d ever seen was a recipe for disaster.
Before Eve had time to react, a huge, mountain of a man, jumped up on the stage and took Eve in his arms. As he covered her luscious mouth with his, his hands were freely exploring her body and the crowd responded violently. Some of the men wanted to save the little beauty from molestation, while others wanted the stranger to rip the clothes off her body, leaving her naked for them all to see. In a matter of minutes, a riot broke out and tables were thrown through windows; mirrors were busted and whiskey emptied over the floor. Some men happily fled with poker winnings that didn’t belong to them.
Eve screamed as a shot blasted the air, very close to her head. The drunken mountain of a man staggered and collapsed onto the floor, with blood spewing from a hole in his chest. He was dead before he knew what had happened.
Eve stood there in shock, staring down into his lifeless eyes. The man was dead. She didn’t notice the strong hands that grabbed her dress and pulled it up to cover her bared breasts.
“For God’s sake, Eve. Cover yourself!” Sam growled, disgusted with her appearance. “Every single one of these bastards saw your bosoms!” he shouted, and it sickened him. “Run upstairs and stay there. Bolt your door,” he ordered.
She did just that. Downstairs she heard more gunshots and men crying out, yelling, and cursing. Eve closed her eyes and saw the dead man, lying at her feet. She began to cry. What was happening to her life?
The sun was high in the sky before Eve managed to dress and drag herself down the stairs to the main room of the Paradise. The saloon was in complete shambles, and Sam was sitting at the one, unbroken table. All his dreams for the Paradise had been destroyed. There was no money for repairs. He’d been drinking all night, trying to think of something, but there was no solution to his problems.
Looking up, he spied Eve quietly coming down the stairs. At the moment, he hated her with an all-consuming rage. He struggled to keep his voice moderate. “Have a seat, dear,” he insisted.
Eve knew she probably should keep walking, but he looked so defeated, she felt pity for him. She didn’t see the harm in just talking.
“Look around you, Eve. This is the result of your unwillingness to do as I asked.” He looked all around the room. “I warned you about your performances. I told you men could not control their urge to possess you, to touch you. God, I should know. I’ve wanted to taste that luscious body of yours ever since the first day I came here, but I’ve been willing to wait. I’ve treated you like a lady.” He was silent for a few moments.
“You’ll be happy to know that I fired all the girls and George too. I’ve also told Bo to leave.”
“Bo? You can’t fire him. He belongs to me. He’s played piano here for almost twenty years. He’s like an uncle.” That was a strange thing to say, but it felt true. Bo had been at the Six Gun before Eve had arrived some fifteen years earlier. “He’s my friend,” she pleaded.
“He’s already gone.”
“No,” she argued. “He wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. What have you done, Sam?”
Sam laughed. He’d had too much to drink and it all seemed pretty funny. He’d lost everything and she was worried about a no-account piano player. Well, he wouldn’t be the one to tell her, but Bo wouldn’t be playing any more pianos. He hadn’t been that good, anyway, he sniffed.
“Why, honey. I haven’t done nothin’. . . but I’m about to. I’m gonna marry you and go into a brand new business. You’ll probably like it. You’ll be making a lot of men happy. You can sing to them while lying on your back. Hell, I’ll get rich.”
“You’re insane!” Eve shouted, just before she reached across the table and flung Sam’s drink in his face.
He wasn’t prepared for the assault as he nearly tumbled from his chair, making him furious. Without thinking clearly, Sam grabbed Eve around the throat and pulled her up off her feet and across the table. He held her with his nose merely an inch from hers and stared deeply into her eyes. The look in his eyes was feral. His lips were brutal as he attacked her mouth, forcing his way past her teeth, where his tongue took possession and claimed her for his own.
Eve struggled to force back the bile rising rapidly in her throat.
“I really hate to do this, darling, but you must learn,” he spat. His thumbs pressed firmly upon her throat, severely restricting Eve’s airflow. His grip never loosened and continued its torture. His hold became tighter and more painful. It would have been so simple to snap her delicate neck. Eve was certain he meant to kill her. Her eyes were watering and her ears were ringing. Strange things began to happen to her vision, as she weakened and felt her gra
sp on this life lessening. Eve couldn’t utter a sound as she felt her consciousness start to give way to the blessed darkness.
Suddenly, Sam let go and threw her limp form to the floor, in a heap of muslin. Within moments, Eve gasped for air to fill her starving lungs. Then she felt his strong hands bring her to her feet. She looked at Sam questioningly, trying to decipher his intentions, just as his fist came down and forced the newfound air from her lungs. The blow to her stomach lifted her from the floor. Once again, she was gasping for breath. Another fist followed the first, and then another. Eve lost count.
She was lifted by her hair and held in place, while he slapped her, over and over again. It was all so surreal, a nightmare from which she could not awaken. She felt her lips growing to an enormous size, and blood filled her mouth, threatening to choke her. Her eyes were swelling nearly closed, making it difficult to see. Repeatedly, Sam pummeled her face and body. When it stopped, she felt nothing at all.
It was dark and Eve thought—for one brief moment—she was dead. She even hoped she was. But no, she was in too much pain to be dead. Thank God for the gift of life, but where was she? She tried to look through swollen slits, but nothing would come into focus and it was so very dark. Eve tried to listen for an identifying sound, but there was only the sound of her own labored breathing.
She closed her eyes and sought the blessed relief of the unconscious. Later, she could find a way out of her tomb, but for now, she needed to sleep.
When next Eve opened her eyes, she discovered that she was in a tiny room with one small window. It was a very sad little room, with only a cot upon which to sleep, and one straight back chair. A coffee can served as a chamber pot.
The door creaked open and Sam walked in, looking as sober as a judge.
“Good morning, Eve.” He looked sorry and contrite, his features softened. “Oh, my God, darling. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing. It’ll never happen again. I’ve sworn off whiskey, for good. From here on out, I’m just gonna take care of you and give you everything you could ever want. Please forgive me, sweetheart.” He fell to his knees in front of her and sobbed.