Dangerous Obsession

by Natasha Peters

  “And what about you, Rhawnie? Can you forgive him? Everything?"

  I was speechless for a moment, and Seth said, “Leave her out of this. I don’t have to hide behind a woman, Steve. Come on, I’m ready for you."

  Steven pushed me aside, not very gently. He swung first. Seth ducked the blow and brought up his right fist under Steven’s jaw. The force of that punch might have cracked Steven’s head if it connected, but it didn’t. Steven dodged to the left and countered with a hard punch to Seth’s middle. Seth grunted and sprawled backwards, into the table. The table tipped noisily, and coffee cups and brandy glasses shattered.

  Seth bounced up, undaunted, and threw himself at Steven. He got in close and pummeled Steven’s body. Steven wrestled him to the floor and smashed his fist into Seth’s face. Seth’s eye swelled shut immediately. His lip was bleeding profusely. They rolled around on the floor, knocking into chairs, kicking at the walls and door.

  I pressed myself into a corner, out of harm’s way. I didn’t want to watch the carnage, but I couldn’t tear myself away.

  They got to their feet and grappled with each other. Occasionally one of them would break away long enough to throw a powerful punch. They fell through the doorway into the gambling room, the Little Salon. Now they had more space, a bigger battlefield, and they widened the scope of their battle. Seth picked up a chair and swung it at Steven’s head. Steven ducked quickly and the chair smashed into a table and shattered into toothpicks. Steven snatched up a chair of his own and hurled it at Seth’s head. Seth stepped aside and the chair flew into the big mirror over the bar. Glasses and bottles came tumbling down with a deafening crash.

  My workers crowded into the doorways to watch. The Chinese chattered excitedly and started to place bets. I wouldn’t have known which way to bet: It seemed to me that Seth had the advantage in weight and strength. But Steven was driven by an obsessive madness, a thirst to punish and destroy the man who had hurt the two women he had loved in his life. Seth’s fighting edge was dulled by his soft life at the Golden Gypsy. While Steven was fresh from the taxing rigors of the trail. He was taut and alert. All in all, I decided that Steven’s fury would probably win the fight for him.

  Seth got into a boxer’s stance and taunted his brother to fight fair. Steven squared off, fists raised, and the two of them battled conventionally for a while, feinting and jabbing and dodging. Both of Seth’s eyes were almost closed now, and his face was streaming with blood and sweat.

  The two of them were staggering wearily by now, but they wouldn’t give up. A terrific punch in Steven’s stomach made him double up, and Seth pressed the advantage and started to rain blows on his brother’s head and face. But Steven recovered quickly. He straightened up, uncoiling like a tightly wound spring, and drove his fist into Seth’s jaw. Seth swayed and went down, then Steven threw himself on top of Seth and put his hands around his throat. He squeezed as he pounded Seth’s head against the floor.

  I screamed and tried to pull him off. “Stop it, Steven! Stop! You’re killing him! Please, Steven, stop!”

  Steven paused in his deadly work. Then he tightened his grip on Seth’s throat and said, “Tell her you’re sorry. Come on, tell her! Talk, damn you, or I’ll strangle you!” Seth gagged and said tightly, “I’m sorry, Rhawnie.”

  “Tell her you’ll never hurt her again!”

  “—never hurt you—again.”

  "And you’re sorry for what you did to Julie. Tell me you’re sorry for that!”

  “Sorry,” Seth choked out the words painfully. “Loved her—didn’t mean—”

  “Say, ‘I’m sorry, Steve!’"

  “I’m sorry—Steve.”

  Steven sighed heavily and released him. The Chinamen grinned and nodded at each other. It had been a good fight, and a close one. Money quickly changed hands.

  I was crying and didn’t know it. My body was shaking like a leaf.

  Steven tried to stand, teetered, and then dropped like a felled oak. I asked the men to take the two of them upstairs and make them comfortable, and I sent Wang for Dr. Clement. Then I sat down at one of the faro tables, lowered my head onto my arms, and sobbed.

  After about half an hour I pulled myself together and I went to see what I could do for them. Steven was lying on my bed. He was conscious and he gave me the weakest of smiles.

  “He has a punch like a load of dynamite,” he whispered. “Didn’t think I could hold out much longer. Good thing he forgot to keep his left up. Never could remember.”

  I looked at the cuts on his face. They weren’t too bad. “Where does it hurt?” I asked him.

  “All over,” he moaned. He moved on the bed and clutched his middle. He started to wretch and I held a basin under his head.

  “Stupid fools,” I muttered. “Like a couple of children.”

  “Don’t be angry,” he said, lying back and closing his eyes. “Did it—for you.”

  “You did it for yourself. Well, I hope you feel better You’ve been carrying that hate around inside you for a long time.”

  “You said—you loved me,” he whispered. “Was that a lie?”

  “A lie! Oh, no, Steven!” I put a damp cloth on his forehead and let my hand linger there. “I lie about everything else, but never about that. Oh,no. I did love you. I do love you. Of all the men I have known in my life, you are the most deserving of love. I’m only sorry because I know this has hurt you, and that’s the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Sleep now, Steven. We will talk later.”

  I started to walk away but he caught my hand. “Still want you,” he said. “This doesn’t change anything. Love you, Rhawnie.”

  I sighed and said, “Later, Steven. We’ll talk later.”

  Wang appeared and told me that Dr. Clement was too drunk to come. I wasn’t surprised. The way the day had gone so far, any kind of good news would be too much to expect. I went into Seth’s room. He was still unconscious and snoring heavily. His face was a mess. He looked like he had been run over by a herd of buffalo. I washed away some of the blood and piled cold compresses around his eyes. That was all I could do for the moment. I started to tiptoe out the door.

  “Rhawnie,” Seth groaned. I looked around. He was tearing at the compresses and trying to sit up. “Rhawnie.”

  “Yes, I’m here.” I went over to him and pushed him down. “Don’t get so excited. And leave these alone.” I replaced the cool cloths.

  “I meant—what I said.” His voice was muffled. His lips were so swollen he could hardly move them. It must have been very painful for him to speak at all, and I tried to stop him, but he was insistent. “I am sorry. Never should have treated you that way.”

  “It doesn’t matter now, Seth,” I said. “It’s over and—”

  “No. Can’t let you go now. Love you too much. Can’t stand to lose the thing I love—like Julie. Too damned stubborn, possessive. Married you so you wouldn’t get away. You can’t leave—won’t divorce you.”

  “Oh, Seth,” I said wearily, “I don’t want to start this all over again. We’ll talk about it later, all right?”

  “No,” he said stubbornly. “Now! Want to talk—about Vienna. I loved you then, I swear it. But I had to leave, for a little while. Think. Clear my head. Understand?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I went back. You were gone. Hotel didn’t know where.”

  I stared at his battered face. “What do you mean, you went back?” I said slowly. “I don’t believe you—”

  “True,” he said. “Knew I was a damned coward. Couldn’t live with myself. Drank like a damned fish but couldn’t forget. Went back. Found out you’d gone to a boarding house. Lilienstrasse. Near the opera house. Damned ugly hole. I was—sorry.”

  His lips were dry. I gave him some water and helped him to drink. He gripped my wrist and told me to sit down, next to him. I obeyed.

  “Landlady told me about the baby. Nicholas. Even found the doctor you’d called in. Dr.—Schumenheink?” I caught my breath. Yes, that was h
is name. I'd forgotten it myself.

  “Saw the grave. Sorry, Rhawnie. I thought if I'd stayed—you blame me. No more—than I blame myself.”

  “Oh, Seth,” I said sadly, “don’t talk about it any more. Don’t upset yourself, please.”

  He didn’t listen. He had to talk, and I had to let him. “No one knew—where you and Anna went afterwards. Looked everywhere. Checked trains. Nothing.”

  Of course he had found nothing. I hadn’t bought tickets to Munich; King Ludwig had given them to me.

  “Didn’t know what to do next. You had—disappeared. Cursed myself. Thought I'd lost you for good. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in New Orleans. And you told me you wanted Steve. Second woman I'd lost to him—wanted to kill both of you.”

  I smoothed the tumbled hair away from his bruised face. “I know,” I murmured. “I know.”

  “Concert was agony. You looked so damned beautiful. And you belonged to him. Couldn’t listen long. Too damned jealous. Always jealous of you, from the beginning. Remember? Wouldn’t let you out of my sight. Didn’t want any other man to have you, ever. Not de Vernay. Not anyone. You were my Gypsy. Mine.”

  He breathed deeply and fell silent. I knew he was asleep and I left him. I stood in the hallway and pressed my forehead against the cool wall. He loved me. He really did love me. Yes, he had abandoned the baby and me in Vienna. But he had come back. And I never knew.

  I needed some air. I slipped into my room—Steven was sleeping soundly—and I put on my riding clothes and went out. Fire and I left the city and rode down the peninsula, to the farm. I didn’t intend to stay long. I just had to get away.

  Maria and the baby were fine. Juan and his brood greeted me joyously . Maria scolded and told me I was too thin.

  “That man,” she said, looking at me shrewdly. “You marry him?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, Maria. I don’t know anything any more. I love him. I love his brother. Things are as confused as ever.”

  “You marry him,” she decided. “He not too bad.”

  I rode back to town, arriving at the Golden Gypsy well after opening. The action was in full swing, even in the Little Salon. I went upstairs to wash and change. Steven was gone. I looked through my things and chose a gown of sky-blue satin. When I had finished dressing I tapped on Seth’s door. No answer.

  I found them both in the little dining room in back of the Little Salon. They had their heads together and when I came in they looked up. Seth’s face was unreadable behind his cuts and bruises, but Steven looked guilty.

  “Hello,” I said with tempered cheerfulness. “What are you doing, deciding on the terms of your next fight?” Steven said, “We both want you, Rhawnie. I meant it when I said this hadn’t changed things. I love you and I want to marry you.”

  “Talk to Seth,” I said. “He has first claim on me, legally.”

  Steven shook his head. “There wouldn’t be any problem if you decided to divorce him. You have ample grounds. It’s up to you. Will you?”

  “No,” Seth growled. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “You’re going to have to choose, Rhawnie,” Steven said. “Make up your mind, one way or the other. If you decide to stay with him, I’ll understand. I won’t try to argue with you. You know best what he’s like and you know what he’s done.”

  “Shut up, Steve,” Seth rasped. “Said you weren’t going to influence her.”

  “Well! So while I’ve been gone, the two of you have been sitting here, cooking up a solution to our problems, eh?” I crossed my arms. “You’re ridiculous, both of you. You want me to choose? Very well, I choose—”

  They leaned forward expectantly.

  “—not to marry either of you. That’s the only real solution. Remember the two brothers in the Gypsy song last night, Seth? You can tell Steven all about it while I go to work. I strongly recommend that you both stay back here, out of sight. You might scare off business.”

  I turned around and walked away from them. I could feel Steven’s eyes boring into my back; Seth’s were too swollen to do more than squint malevolently. I didn’t know what to do and I was too tired of both of them to want to worry about the problems for very long. An answer would present itself if I stalled them long enough. I greeted the customers, took my place at the faro table, and started to, play.

  It was business as usual at the Golden Gypsy that night. The two remaining French tarts laughed and joked with the customers and fleeced them expertly. As the men drank more they grew noisier and the din was deafening. I even forgot that the Golden Gypsy didn’t belong to me any more.

  Then two masked men with torches came into the salon and leaped up on the bar.

  “Clear out, everybody!” they shouted. “We’re gonna burn out this hell-hole of vice and sin!”

  The girls screamed and broke for the doors. No fools they. All at once the place was in confusion, uproar. More masked men came in and started to attack the bar with axes. One of them set fire to the red velvet curtains at the windows. The occupants of the room started to surge towards the door.

  I heard Steven shouting out my name, but we were separated by a crowd.

  “Steven!” I shouted. “Seth!”

  A thick pall of smoke descended over the room. I could hear the crackle of flames. The Golden Gypsy was only a frame structure; it would bum in no time.

  “Wipe out the sources of evil!” a masked man shouted.

  An end to the evil and the devil’s own corruption!”

  And another took up the cry: “Scatter the seeds of evil and they will grow no more! Burn the house of the harlot, the Jezebel, the witch!”

  A faint prickle of recognition stirred in my brain. I knew that voice, I was sure of it.

  Finally I managed to push my way through to the street. The mob in front of the building was so thick that I could hardly move. I made my way to the edge of the crowd, searching and looking for Steven and Seth. I didn’t see either of them, and I prayed they had gotten out safely.

  I could hear the roar and crackle of flames. I looked around. The dried timbers were burning quickly. In only a few minutes the Golden Gypsy was nothing but a black skeleton enshrouded in a veil of flames.

  The fire was spreading to the Golden Eagle next door. Masked men rode in packs up and down Washington Street. All held torches and shouted about death and sin and retribution.

  Strong arms pulled me even farther away from the conflagration. I looked around. It was Seth.

  “You must have done somebody a bad turn,” he muttered thickly. “Who are they?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said.

  “Find the harlot, the Jezebel!” came a shout. I withdrew into the shadows and pulled Seth with me.

  “I know who that one is!” I hissed. “That’s Zebulon Pratt! The Mormon elder!”

  “What? What’s he doing here?”

  I groaned and pressed closer to him. “I stole some money from him before I left Salt Lake City,” I confessed. I spoke right into Seth’s ear. “That’s how I got the money to start this place. Ten thousand dollars.”

  “Righteous retribution,” he grunted.

  “Sons of Dan!” the masked men bawled. “Pay heed to the Avenger! Make way for the Sons of Dan!”

  “Steven?” I asked Seth. “Is he all right?”

  Seth nodded. “Saw him a few minutes ago. Ten thousand. Jesus. I’d be tempted to burn you out myself. Some people never learn.”

  “No, gorgio,” some people never do.” I felt my face broaden into a grin.

  Two men came up behind us. They were unmasked, and at first I thought they were just watchers, like us. Then one of them raised a pistol, holding it by the barrel, and cracked the butt end down on Seth’s skull. Seth dropped like a stone. I shrieked. Then something crashed into the back of my own head. The flames died into darkness.

  The air smelled sweet. Sickeningly sweet. I moaned and opened my eyes. I found that I could not sit up because I was in a narrow space with only about th
ree feet of head-room. But I could turn on my elbow and look out.

  I was in a room, dimly lit by a couple of oil lamps suspended from the low ceiling. A haze of grayish mist hung in the air. The walls were lined with man-sized shelves. Most of them were filled with bodies. A few people were moving around. I could tell from their loose black pants and swinging queues that they were Chinese. They were carrying little devices with hoses on them to the bodies on the shelves. Around me I heard sucking noises, and some coughing and sighing, but no talk.

  I felt dizzy and nauseous, but surprisingly I felt no pain in my head. Indeed, I didn’t feel much of anything. My hands and feet were a little numb, and my whole body felt light and relaxed. Even my brain, which was barely awake.

  Where was I? How did I get there? Then I remembered the fire. And Seth. Where was Seth?

  I must have cried out, for a diminutive Chinese woman came over to me and spoke soothingly in her own language. She saw my agitation growing, and she called to a man. He came towards me, queue swinging behind him. He wore cotton pajamas and a little beanie of the same fabric. He spoke to the woman rapidly. She went away and came back carrying a glassful of liquid.

  She held the glass for me to drink. I was very thirsty. The water tasted odd, flowery. I knew the smell. Of course, I had used the stuff on horses. It was laudanum.

  I tried to tell them that I didn’t want to drink any more, but when I pushed the glass away, the man opened my mouth and the woman poured the remainder down my moat. It must have been a pretty strong dose, for I fell asleep almost at once.

  When I awoke again I was still on my shelf in that room. Two men stood in front of me. The strangers who had attacked Seth and me.

  One of them said in German, “It is time, Franz. The coat will be weighing anchor soon. It’s almost daylight. They might be looking for her.”

  "That’s your fault,” the other one said. “I told you we had to get her away without being seen. I hope you had the sense to kill that fellow, Fritz.”

  “Of course I did,” said the first man quickly. Kill? I thought hazily. Who? Not Seth! “I shot him in the head, Franz. Didn’t you see me?”