She laughed. “Strange way to name a town, don’t you think?” She took another sip of water and swallowed. “I don’t believe you’ve told me your name.”
“John…John Harper, ma’am.”
She peered down her nose and grinned. “What did I tell you about calling me ma’am?”
“Uh… sorry, Miz Odessa. Say, was you named after the town in Texas?”
“In a way, I suppose. My ma read a book a long time ago about a place far away called Russia. She came across Odessa as the name of a region there. I’ve heard tell that Odessa, Texas is named for that very same place.”
“It’s a right pretty name.” John lowered his gaze. “And it suits you.”
“I’ve always liked it, although my father called me Dessie most of the time.” Memory’s knife stabbed at her heart as she recalled the last time she’d heard Pa’s voice. Her thoughts drifted back to that day in the desert when she’d left him behind. The same anguish she’d felt then returned and multiplied her worry over Zach.
“Do you like being called Dessie?” John’s voice pulled her from her painful reverie.
“Only by Pa, because he gave me the pet name. But, he’s gone now, so I don’t allow anyone else to call me that. Besides…sounds too much like Bessie, and that was the name of one of our cows.” She smiled.
“Time to get back to work,” Alf called.
The legs of John’s chair squealed against the floor when he pushed away from the table, stood and pulled out her chair. “Thank you for the visit, Miz Odessa. It was real nice makin’ your acquaintance.”
“I enjoyed meeting you, too, and I even got a little history lesson about Show Low in the deal.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and moved to her place next to the piano.
* * *
Odessa returned to the piano from her third break of the evening and planted her foot firmly against the wall while assuming a suggestive posture. John Harper, quite the polite young man, had provided a welcome respite to worrying about Zach. She’d learned more about John and his family and shared some of her own past. She steered clear of any conversation that might lead to questions about how she ended up in Tombstone.
The crowd grew rowdier as the night progressed, and Alf had come to her defense several times when a few trail hands made inappropriate comments or tried to drag her onto the dance floor. Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she dropped her suggestive poses and stood with hands clasped at her waist. The jar atop the piano behind her was half-full, and now she’d find out if her singing or her sleazy stance had earned her the extra money.
She joined in on cue when he played Oh Susanna. She tapped her toe to the music and sang in her loudest voice, although she couldn’t help but wonder how someone came from Alabama with a banjo on their knee. The crowd clapped, and some even joined in the chorus. Odessa, caught up in the fun, did a do-si-do with a heavyset and obviously inebriated customer during a piano interlude. When she sashayed back to her place, she realized he wasn’t ready to end the dance.
Odessa tried to brush off his clutching hands and continue with the song, but her actions only caused his eyes to narrow and his nostrils to flare.
Alf leapt to his feet. “Hands off, mister.”
The drunk punched Alf and sent him sprawling, then blasted him with an icy glare. “Now get up and play, you bastard,” he slurred. “I plan to finish what I started with this here whore, or my name ain’t Augustus O’Reilly.”
People who had glanced over when the music stopped had gone back to their banter and drinks. Alf plunked out Red River Valley, but his gaze rested on Odessa. His face displayed the fear she felt.
Time moved in slow motion. Visions of another encounter with an inebriated man flashed in her mind, only this time there was no Zach to come to her rescue. Her racing heart echoed in her head and she felt helpless. Fingers bit into her skin.
Odessa craned away from the burly man. “You’re making a mistake, Mr. O’Reilly. I’m only here to sing.”
“Right.” He guffawed, leering at her chest. “You ain’t showing off those pretty little titties jes to belt out a few tunes.”
This was the very thing Zach had warned her about. Or was it a nightmare?
O’Reilly reeled her closer and squeezed her right breast. The pain confirmed she wasn’t in the middle of a bad dream. She slapped at his hand but he only laughed.
“I’m gonna make you feel real good, little lady.” His fetid breath sickened her, and she turned away, but he cupped her chin and forced her face forward. “And I wanna taste these titties right now.” His giant arm held tight around her waist while he lowered his head and slathered his tongue across the tops of her breasts.
She clenched her teeth, squinted her eyes, and struggled, but she was no match for his strength. His mouth delved deeper inside her dress, making the hair at her neck’s nape stand on end and her stomach roil.
“Let go of her and step aside.”
Finally, a commanding voice.
Odessa opened her eyes. John Harper stood with a wide stance, his arms at his side, his fingers flexing near the holster on his right hip. “Guess no one else is gonna step in and save the lady, so I’m asking you to let her go.”
O’Reilly raised his head and stared at John. “And if I don’t, whadda you plan to do about it?”
“Test me and find out,” Harper warned. His words sounded brave but fear wavered in his eyes.
The man still gripped Odessa with one arm, while his opposite hand hovered over his pistol. “You don’t scare me. I doubt you can even shoot. You don’t look old enough to be dry behind the ears.”
“I don’t want no trouble, so let Miz Odessa go.” Sweat beaded John’s brow.
“Miz Odessa is it?” O’Reilly sneered at her. “She’s a mighty tasty treat and one I plan to savor for a while, so why don’t you just go back to whatever it was you were doing and leave us be?”
Odessa’s breath hitched as O’Reilly’s grip tightened around her waist. “Please, both of you….”
"This thing of being a hero, about the main thing to it is to know when to die. Prolonged life has ruined more men than it ever made." -- Will Rogers.
Chapter Twenty
Odessa pried at her captor’s thick fingers to no avail. “Can’t we just forget this happened and go back to singing and dancing?” She nodded toward the other side of the room. “Look over at the bar. Everyone else is still drinking, laughing and having fun.” Her voice sounded light despite the heaviness in her chest.
Why was everyone else in the place oblivious to her plight? Didn’t they care? Surely, even in a saloon, some sort of law prevailed.
“I said let her go.” John splayed his fingers above his gun.
O’Reilly released her, and jaw twitching, faced John Harper. “You’re annoying me, boy.”
Odessa cowered against the piano, legs trembling and stomach churning. “Please, fellas,” she tried again. “This isn’t worth someone getting hurt… or worse.”
“He needs to have more respect for you, Miz Odessa.” John addressed her but his eyes remained fixed on O’Reilly.
“You gonna teach me respect, boy?” O’Reilly taunted him.
“Someone needs to,” John muttered. “But the important thing is that you let the lady go.” He pulled out his chair and started to sit when a loud blast rang out.
Odessa covered her ears and winced. The smell of gunpowder drifted back toward her and fear choked off the scream in her throat. She craned around O’Reilly’s bulk and searched for John. With a leering grin, the drunk looked back at her and holstered his gun. “That’ll teach the little bastard to mind his own business.”
“John! Oh my God, John.” Odessa scrambled to where he lay and fell to her knees beside him. Blood oozed from a bullet hole in his forehead and puddled on the floor; his dark eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. She pressed her ear to his chest, but heard nothing but her own panting.
“He’s dead,” she screamed. Anger t
urned her body rigid. “What’s wrong with you people?”
Those at the bar turned to her, but only for a moment before they went back to drinking, talking and laughing. O’Reilly staggered out the swinging doors like nothing had happened.
Alf came, knelt and put his arm around her shoulder. She turned and peered at him through blurred eyes. The room behind him appeared wavy and off-kilter. “W-Why?”
She didn’t hear an answer because darkness descended on her like a cloudless night.
* * *
Odessa opened her eyes to the worried faces of Alf and Flo. Her gaze darted around. The smell, the pillows, the bed covering—Pearlie’s room. How had she gotten upstairs? She tried to sit up but Flo urged her back down. “You’ve had quite a shock and scared us pretty good, too.”
Alf nodded. “I guess maybe you aren’t ready to work in a saloon.”
Odessa, puzzled at first, covered her mouth and bit back a sob as the details of John Harper’s death flashed through her mind. He’d done nothing but try to protect her from an overgrown brute. He didn’t deserve to die.
Scooting up against the headboard, Odessa shook her head. “Why did that drunk kill that nice young man?”
Flo shrugged. “Happens more times than we can count.” She flicked a glance at the piano player. “No offense, Alf.” She looked back to Odessa. “Men are like dogs. They have to piss on their territory and prove something to everyone. You don’t see many women killin’ one another.”
“Pulling hair is more like it.” Alf chuckled. If his joke was an attempt to lighten the mood, his humor failed.
“Will O’Reilly be punished?” Odessa stared at her companions.
“We sent for the sheriff, but if the shooter has left town already, the law’ll decide if finding him is worth the effort.”
“What about John Harper? We don’t even know if he has family. Who’s going to bury him?” Tears blurred Odessa’s eyes. Responsibility for his demise gnawed at her like a dog with a bone.
Flo patted her arm. “Don’t you fret about young Mr. Harper. He’ll be buried proper. We already had his body taken to be fitted for a casket, but as for family….”
Odessa lowered her gaze and sniffed. “I guess there’s nothing more can be done.”
Flo nudged Alf. “Let’s let her recover from the shock.
“Yeah, kid,” Alf said, “Take the rest of the night off. I don’t feel much like playin’ mahself.”
The door closed behind them. Odessa settled back on the pillows and draped her arm across her eyes. Thoughts of Zach danced in her head and renewed her anxiety. He’d predicted her fate, so what if something happened to him, as she warned? How would she even know? Would someone tell her, and then, how would she reach his pa? She gnawed her bottom lip and tried to push the bothersome thoughts aside. She’d already lost most of her family, except for an aunt she barely knew. The last thing Odessa wanted was to tell a father he’d lost the son he loved. That wasn’t the way she wanted to meet Zach’s pa.
Surely God wouldn’t be that cruel and take away her reason for wanting to make a new life. She squared her shoulders, but they sagged beneath niggling doubts and fear. Sobs wracked her, both for the loss of a nice young man and the worry over another she truly loved.
* * *
Odessa woke to sunlight filtering through the window in Pearlie’s room. Dust motes danced lightly in the beams. Usually amusing, today they did little to inspire a good mood. Her eyes felt gritty and swollen. She’d evidently cried herself to sleep—deep sleep as nothing had disturbed her.
Throwing aside the coverlet, she inched to the bed’s edge and stood. She still wore the same gaudy green gown, although now the emerald material was wrinkled and splattered with blood—John Harper’s blood. It may as well be on her hands. Tears welled again as she questioned her responsibility for his death.
Had he not taken a fancy to her and her singing, he’d still be alive. Being sheltered by her family hadn’t given her much experience to draw from. Regardless, she couldn’t do this anymore. Zach had been right. Saloons weren’t fitting places for a decent woman to work. She’d tell Alf right away she was through. Surely he’d understand.
She opened the armoire and withdrew her own gingham dress, shoes and undergarments and then changed. Dressed, she turned to the mirror, not surprised at eyes that were red and puffy. Her hair hung in unruly strands and the coloring from her lips and cheeks had been left as smears on the bedclothes. She felt as pale as she looked.
After letting down her hair, she pulled a brush through the tangles and then drew her tresses back in a single blue ribbon. The smell of liquor wafted from beneath the door and made her queasy. Bidding the Golden Horseshoe goodbye wouldn’t be hard at all. More difficult, believing Zach would come back to get her.
Downstairs, the bar was empty except for a few old codgers leaning there and ogling her with raised brows as she descended. She supposed, in her own clothing, she stood in stark contrast to the few painted ladies who hadn’t yet retired upstairs. Judging from the attention they paid the grizzly men, the women still hoped for some paying company.
How could a woman sink so low?
Realization dawned and startled her. Perhaps she was destined for such a fate. Alone, no money, no prospects for a decent job. Flo had already indicated this wasn’t what she wanted to do with her life—more what life forced her to do. Zach had to come back; he had to return and save Odessa from a doomed fate in this hellhole of a town.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, sickened by sight of the proprietress running her fingers through one customer’s greasy hair while she giggled in his ear. “Flo,” she interrupted. “Do you know where Alf is?”
Flo turned her back to the bar and leaned on her elbows, hooking her heel over the foot rail so that her already bulging bosom jutted further. Too much fleshy thigh defeated her attempt to be alluring. “He’s gone to bed. Why?”
“I-I wanted to tell him I’m quitting. I won’t be back tonight—or ever. This just isn’t a place for me.” Odessa clasped and unclasped her fingers. She glanced at the dark stain on the floor where John Harper died, then back to Flo.
The redhead straightened. Her eyes turned serious. “Well, hell’s bells. We’re shore gonna miss you around here kid, but I understand, truly I do. I think Alf will, too. After we came downstairs, he mentioned it might be best if you left. I think he feels guilty about what happened.”
“Oh, please tell him he shouldn’t.” Odessa pressed her palms together beneath her chin. “I appreciate the chance he gave me to sing, but I got far more than I bargained for. Tell him I wish him well.”
The geezer next to Flo made an improper grab. She clucked her tongue. “Not now, Vern!” She slapped his hand away and walked towards Odessa. “What do you plan to do now, hun?”
“I’m not sure. There isn’t much in this town. I’m hoping my…my friend returns soon. He’s on business and is supposed to come back and deliver me to Phoenix. I have an aunt there. That’s where my pa and I were headed when he died.”
Flo lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know.” Her red lips fell into a frown. “We didn’t really have a chance to get to know one another, did we?”
“No, I guess we didn’t. But maybe it’s for the best.” Odessa chuckled to ease the moment. “I might have taken a liking to you, only to have to turn around and leave town and a good friend.”
“That’s true.” Flo patted her shoulder. “Well, take it easy, Miz Odessa Clay, and have a good life.”
She nodded. “I intend to. Thank you.”
Flo turned back to her customer, and Odessa crossed to the piano where her money jar stood almost full—a welcome sight and safety for a few more days at the boarding house. As she clutched the glass container to her chest and passed through the swinging doors, she took a deep breath. “Anytime now, Zach. Anytime.”
* * *
Zach listened to Pete Spence spout off directions on how the heis
t was supposed to go—grab the payroll, frisk the passengers for their goods, then turn loose the team and leave them all stranded while the gang departed for parts known only to the boss.
When he ordered that anyone who didn’t cooperate be killed, Zach’s mouth gaped. The man was a hotheaded ass with a need to be in control. The more he talked, the more Zach disliked him. Abel was already at his post, stretched flat on his stomach atop the boulder, keeping an eye out for a cloud of dust on the horizon. The twisting in Zach’s belly increased as time for the coach’s arrival grew nearer. He pondered his decision and worried about Odessa.
“You hear me, Johnson?” Spence yanked Zach out of his thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
His sneer relayed his anger at being ignored. “I said, you and T.J. get down to the back of the bluff and wait. Stay out of sight. Burt and I will stay mounted, then spring out in front of the stage and stop the horses. Axel is keeping aim on anyone who tries anything funny. Once we have the coach halted, you and T.J. get the passengers out and take what valuables they have. Everything! Keep your eyes open and your gun handy. And don’t forget to wear your bandanas to mask your face.”
Zach nodded, but his palms dampened. He didn’t join on to kill anyone, and ever since he’d heard from T.J. about the way station, he knew for certain Spence and his cronies had no qualms about murder.
“You ready?” T.J. asked, tethering his horse to a secure piece of scrub.
“As I’ll ever be.” Zach tied his horse, too, but wished he could jump astride and ride away with the speed of the wind. A bullet in the back would probably be his reward, so he thought better of leaving. He’d gotten himself into a hole and couldn’t see a way out.
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