Odessa

by Ginger Simpson

  The skinny proprietor stood with his back to her. She moved to the far end of the counter. “Excuse me, sir.”

  He turned. “Yes. May I help you?”

  “I wonder if you can tell me of any employment opportunities here in town?”

  “Who for?”

  “Me.” She stretched a little taller.

  His eyes widened. “What are ya lookin’ to do?”

  “I don’t rightly know.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m game to try most anything.”

  “Anything?” A booming voice came from her right. The obnoxious odor grew stronger as the stranger stepped closer.

  With an icy glance in his direction, she nodded. “Within reason, of course.”

  “Can you shoot?” he asked.

  “N-not really. But, I don’t desire a job that requires that skill.”

  “Can you rope or ride?”

  His assessing gaze sent a chill through her.

  Squaring her shoulders, she returned his stare with a determined one of her own. “I was thinking more along the lines of a seamstress… or a teacher, or even serving food.”

  Both men laughed.

  Her cheeks warmed. “Did I make a joke?”

  The gangly proprietor displayed a toothless grin. “Don’t mean to offend, Miss, but people drift through—not usually looking for work. Most jobs are already filled by the locals. Old lady Phister takes in sewing, and I doubt you’ll be able to find a job serving food. People who own eating establishments tend to reserve those spots for family members. Bout the only call for someone your age and good looks would be at the saloon.”

  The smelly man chortled low in his throat and inched closer. His fat neck had dirt in the creases and his shirt barely stretched across his belly.

  She shivered, and squared her shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be interested.”

  He reached over and patted her hand. “I’d be your best customer.”

  Odessa yanked away and stepped back from the counter. “Like I said, I’m not interested.” She spun on her heel and fled back upstairs.

  On the top landing, she stopped and took a deep breath. How dare they suggest the saloon? Granny had always referred to the painted women who worked there as tarnished angels. Odessa really had no idea about what went on in such establishments, but she’d heard stories. The thought of cozying up to anyone who smelled like the man downstairs made her grimace. It appeared more and more likely she’d find herself on the stage for Phoenix rather than gainfully employed.

  “Wait,” she muttered. Surely other things needed attention in a saloon. Her mind spun—washing glasses, doing laundry; she wasn’t above hard work. Besides, she intended to prove to Zach she could find a suitable job and take care of herself.

  Instead of going back inside the room, she faded into the shadowed hallway and hoped for a distraction from the two men at the counter below. When they engaged in deep conversation, she crept downstairs and out the front door.

  The night air cooled her cheeks. The uneven walkway unfolded before her, empty and, in some parts, engulfed in total darkness. Her heartbeat quickened as she eyed the saloon a few doors down. Fingers of light from the windows stretched across the rutted street. Piano music and rowdy laughter drifted through the swinging doors.

  She swallowed hard and started walking. The clack of her boot heels on the worn planks quickened in the shadowed areas.

  Outside the establishment, she paused and took a deep breath. Patting her hair into place, she squared her shoulders and entered. Silence fell like an axe. All eyes fixed on her. Her skin prickled beneath the stares. The mustached man behind the bar held a bottle mid-air over a glass, his bushy brow arched. Those hunched at the long counter glanced over their shoulders and displayed mixed expressions, most with mouths agape. The piano-player, the last to react, stopped stroking the black and white keys and spun on his stool. His eyes widened.

  A painted woman, with more bosom showing than considered proper, stood with hands on her hips and glared at Odessa. She sashayed over, swinging her ample behind. The red hair, piled high on her head, matched the dots on her cheeks. “Did you lose your way, honey?”

  “N-no. I-I…” The collective attention brought a huge lump to Odessa’s throat. She held her head high. “I’m looking for employment, but not…”

  “Not what?” The woman tapped the toe of her fancy shoe. “Time is money around here, and you’re wasting mine.”

  “I’m sorry…I mean, about wasting your time. But I really need a job and I thought the owner might hire me to do laundry, wash dishes, clean….”

  The room erupted into laughter. The woman’s face softened. “Don’t pay them any mind. We have the Chinese to do those chores, but…” She leaned in. “I’m the proprietress, and we can always use your services in other ways.”

  Heat seared Odessa’s cheeks. “Oh, n-no thank you.” She swallowed. “I guess I’ll be on my way.”

  The owner’s plump hand with dirty fingernails grasped her arm. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be interested? A looker like you could make a lot of money. By the way, my name is Flo.” Her bright red lips curved into a smile.

  “I’m Odessa Clay. Nice to meet you… and no disrespect intended, but I really couldn’t…couldn’t….”

  “I understand. Just thought I’d make the offer. Sometimes desperation makes a body do something they normally wouldn’t. That’s how I ended up here.” Sadness clouded her eyes for an instant.

  Odessa glanced around. The noise resumed. Most patrons had gone back to drinking, some cuddled with other painted ladies, but the piano player still looked on.

  He stood on long, lanky legs and joined the two women. He swept a gaze up and down Odessa. “Couldn’t help but hear, missy. Do ya sing?”

  “A little, I reckon. My granny always told me I had the voice of an angel.”

  “Well, would ya be interested in being a songbird? That is if I can hear a little sample and agree with yer granny.”

  She arched a brow. “What would I have to do?”

  He crossed back to the piano and sat. “Stand here by me, look pretty, and sing whatever I play.”

  His smile softened his features. Young, and fairly handsome beneath a shoddy exterior, he acted friendly enough. Instead of yelling over the noise, she walked closer. “But, I don’t know many songs, and the ones I do know wouldn’t be fittin’ for a place like this.”

  “I know my music by heart.” He pointed to a stack of papers atop the piano. “You could take this sheet music and learn the words.”

  “I-I just don’t know if I should.” She nibbled her bottom lip.

  “What happened to the gol-darned music?” A voice yelled from across the room.

  “Yeah, yeah, keep yer britches on. I’m conducting a little business over here.” The piano player shot Odessa a questioning look. “Well?”

  “How much would I earn?”

  “I’ll pay you two dollars a night.”

  She widened her eyes. “That much?” There had to be a catch. “Are you sure all I have to do is sing?”

  “Look, Miss....”

  “Odessa Clay.” She bobbed a small curtsy.

  “I’m Alf Rearden, pleased to meet you, and, all I need is someone who can sing. Not interested in anything else. Can you belt out a few verses of somethin’ you know?”

  “Most of the songs I know are hymns.”

  “Anything is fine. Just gimme a sample.” He fixed a steadfast gaze on her.

  “All right, but I’m not singing loud.” She clasped her hands in front of her bosom, took a breath, and pretended it was Sunday and she sat next to Granny on the old wooden pew in church.

  Rocks of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee; let the water and the blood, from thy wounded side which flowed
, be of sin—”

  Alf held up his hand. “That’s enough. You do have a voice, Miss Clay. I’d be right proud if you’d accept the job.

  Singing in church with everyone else was quite different than singing solo. She rubbed her dampened palms together. “I appreciate the offer, but I require some time to think about it.”

  “Don’t take too long, or I might find someone else. In the meantime, take this sheet music with you and get an idea of what kind of tunes you’ll be singing. Now skedaddle. If I don’t start playing, I’ll be looking for a new job.”

  He spun his stool back around and splayed his long fingers over the keys. As strains of Camp Town Ladies filled the room, couples danced around the floor, and a drunken man in the corner did a jig. Odessa mouthed the words she remembered and tapped her toe to the music. Maybe singing was the solution to her problem. She snatched the sheet music, waved goodbye, and pushed through the swinging doors.

  Outside, she caught her reflection in the window and with her hand resting on her bosom, she struck a haughty post. “Odessa Clay, songbird. It doesn’t sound so bad.”

  * * * *

  Odessa crept upstairs and cracked the door open far enough to peek in. Seeing darkness and hearing Zach’s snores, she released a sigh. She tiptoed inside and nudged the door closed, then stood still while her vision adjusted to the muted light. Zach’s chest rose and fell in a constant rhythm.

  After slipping the sheet music beneath the mattress, she stripped down to her undergarments, hung her dress on the bedpost and crawled between the covers. She stifled a giggle. Zach would be surprised when she gave him the news of her plans, but she’d have to wait and pretend she found the job during the daytime. Believing she’d put something over on him brought a feeling of satisfaction. A smug grin tugged at her lips.

  Fatigue from the long day embraced her. She plumped her pillow and pulled the blanket up beneath her chin. Releasing a relaxing sigh, she closed her eyes.

  “You’ve been gone quite a while. Gonna tell me where you’ve been?” Zach’s deep voice cut the silence, startling her.

  “Ah…I thought you were asleep.”

  “I’m sure you did.” He sat up, letting his blanket fall to his waist.

  Distracted by moonlight from the window highlighting his bared chest and muscled arms, her alibi drifted right out of her mind.

  “Listen, your job is to back me up, because you’d starve without me. And you, your job is to shut up.” —Butch Cassidy

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zach threw his covers aside and stood. His bare feet slapped the floor as he crossed the room and lit the lamp. He turned and fixed her with a questioning stare. “Are you gonna tell me where you’ve been or not?”

  The sudden burst of light hurt her eyes. She squinted. “I-I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs to read the newspaper.” The lie weighed heavy on her tongue.

  He glared at her, his arms folded across his chest. “Strange, when I went down, I didn’t see you there.”

  She lowered her chin and stared at her blanket to avoid his burning gaze. “I must have stepped out onto the walkway for a breath of air.”

  “Didn’t see you out there, either. You’re not a very good liar.”

  She sat straight up in bed and glared back at him. “Maybe I shouldn’t be explaining my whereabouts to you at all. Like I said before, you aren’t my pa.”

  His throat wavered with a deep swallow, and he sat on the bed’s edge. “I don’t aim to treat you like a jailer, Odessa. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. This ain’t a place where young ladies can wander around at night and be safe. I’ll feel much better when you’re on the stage headed for Phoenix.”

  “I’m sure you would feel better with me out of your hair,” she snapped.

  His brows knitted into one. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He stared into his lap.

  Odessa scrambled from under the blanket, and with legs folded beneath her, sat back on her heels. “You promised to go with me and help me find my Aunt Susan, but now you plan to toss me into a stagecoach and be done with me. Well, I’m not going. I have no idea where my aunt lives… or if she’s even still there.”

  “I know I promised, but…” He jerked his head up. “What do you mean you’re not going?”

  “For your information, I found a job. I can stay here and earn money until you finish whatever it is you’ve come here to do.”

  “But…” His gaze rested on the expanse of bosom her chemise exposed.

  The heat of his stare made her gasp. She’d totally forgotten she wore only her under garments. She clutched the covers to her chest and sank onto the bed, but she refused to lose the argument. “I have no idea what your plans are because you haven’t seen fit to share them, but you’ve made it very clear you can’t afford to support us both. Finding a job was much easier than I thought, and now you don’t have to worry about money.”

  He sat taller. “Just what kind of work might you be doing?”

  “Oh, there’s no might to it. I’m definitely accepting Mr. Rearden’s offer to let me sing.”

  “Sing?” He raised a brow. “Where exactly will you be singing?”

  “At the saloon down the street.”

  Zach leapt to his feet and glared down at her. “Like hell!” He lowered his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. After a long breath, he looked back to her. “I forbid it. You have no idea the kind of riff raff you’ll be dealin’ with.”

  “Forbid? You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

  She no longer cared that she wore only pantaloons and a chemise. She bolted out of bed and stood toe-to-toe with him. “I’m fully grown and able to make my own decisions.” She waggled her finger in his face. “If you don’t abide by my choices, then you’re free to move along. I’m sure I can handle myself just fine without your help.”

  His face reddened and his lips thinned. “Is that so?” He slapped her hand away. “Get that finger out of my face.”

  Odessa lowered her hand and nibbled her bottom lip. Now she’d made him as mad as a wet hen.

  Zach’s blood heated. Restraining himself, he took a moment to form his thoughts into words fit for a lady. He exhaled and relaxed his tense shoulders. “You certainly didn’t appear very capable of taking care of yourself when I found you crumpled in the dirt. And… how ‘bout when the scorpion bit you? If I recall correctly, you fell into a pretty good panic.”

  He walked to the other side of the room, sat on a chair and began pulling on his socks. “I’m wondering how you would’ve handled those three riders had I not been there and claimed you were my wife. They had a mighty hungry gaze in their eyes, and it wasn’t for food.”

  He paused, one sock dangling from his toes. Those varmints hadn’t looked at Odessa with desire much different than he felt right now. Her hair, disheveled around that beautiful face and spilling down past her shoulders, the creaminess of her skin, and the crest of full breasts heaving with each breath she took. God, he wanted her. The crotch of his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

  He blew a silent blast of air past his lips and pulled his sock on, then his boots. He planted both feet on the ground, stood and crossed back to her. Gazing down into those beautiful blue eyes, he struggled to find his voice. “This isn’t about what you can and can’t do, Odessa. I’m fearful of what might happen to you. You’re no match for a man, and there are plenty in this town who’ll take advantage of you.” His heart pounded at her nearness.

  “Advantage? How?”

  Her naïve outlook made her prey to so many things. How could he possibly explain all the dangers to her? The fresh smell of her clean skin and hair drifted upward and teased him. Heat filtered across the inches between them. His blood pulsed in his ears, and his loins tightened.

  She tipped
her chin up and waited for his answer.

  He swallowed. “In s-so many ways. Beautiful women do strange things to men.” He raised his head and stared at the wall behind her. If she only knew what she did to him this very minute. A voice in his head screamed for him to kiss her, but he knew he couldn’t stop there. He imagined drunken cowboys pawing at her and his anger resurfaced.

  He grasped her shoulders. “You aren’t going to sing in a saloon, and that’s that. You have no idea what it would be like. Men and liquor don’t make a good mix. You’ll just have to take my word for it.” He loosened his grip and took a step back.

  She plunked down on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. For a moment, he warmed with satisfaction that he’d won the argument.

  Lifting her chin, she locked a defiant stare on him. “I don’t want to fight with you, but there is nothing else in this town for me to do but sing. I already have the sheet music and I’ll be starting tomorrow. I’m sure Mr. Rearden will keep me safe. He seems like a very nice man.”

  Zach’s victory was short-lived. He ran both hands through his hair and sighed. “Dang, if you aren’t the hardest female to reason with.” He yanked his shirt from the chair back and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll go have a talk with this Mr. Rearden and judge for myself if he’s as trustworthy as you seem to believe.” He stomped out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the window.

  * * * *

  Odessa sat for a moment and stared at the worn door, shocked at Zach’s reaction. She’d expected him to be pleased, not infuriated. His lack of faith in her was more than obvious. She’d have to show him she could handle herself.