Dorothy Garlock (43 page)

“As I live and breathe—Jo Bell Frank.”

Jo Bell spun around. That voice! It sounded like—

“Starr! Oh, Starr!”

“I was sure it was you I was hearing about—black curls, violet eyes and very beautiful.”

The redheaded woman was fashionably attired in a tight-fitting green taffeta dress. A small green hat was perched on top of her high-piled curls. A folded parasol hung from a loop
over her waist. Jo Bell flew across the room and wrapped her arms around Starr’s waist.

“Whoa now, honey. You’ll mess my fine dress.”

“You look like a regular . . . lady. Oh, Starr, I knew you were pretty, but dressed like this you’re . . . you’re just the prettiest thin’ I ever did see.”

Starr laughed softly and threw her arm across Jo Bell’s shoulders.

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you’re glad to see me, would it?”

“No! How did you find me?”

“’Twas easy. After you dined at the Chicago Restaurant last night, every man in town was dying to meet you.” Her laugh was light. “When I heard the pretty girl’s name was Jo Bell, I started looking for you. I figured your papa would stay at the best hotel in town.”

“Papa’s dead. A mean man shot him at a stage station. Charlie and I went on to Uncle Oliver’s, but he’s dead, too.”

“Gil was bound to get it sooner or later. Bet he was cheating at cards.”

“The man said he was, but I don’t believe it.”

“Charlie with you?”

“No. I’m by myself.”

“Who was the cowboy you ate dinner with?”

“His name is Vince. He just . . . brought me here.”

“Then he’s got no hold on you?”

“No! Lord no. I’m goin’ to marry a
rich
man.”

“Good. I’ll help you find one. Come, let me show you something.”

Starr took Jo Bell by the hand and led her to the door and out onto the hotel veranda.

“See that new building down on the corner? Read the sign. STARR PALACE. That’s mine. Remember the freighter I
rode away with? Well, he came into some money, then got himself shot.” Starr didn’t mention that the money had originally belonged to someone else. “I own the fanciest saloon in town.”

“Ya own it? All by yoreself?”

“Sure do. It’s mine, all mine. How about coming to work for me?”

“What would I do?”

“Sing. The men will go crazy over you.”

“But . . . I don’t sing very good.”

Starr laughed. “They’ll not even notice. All you have to do is look at ’em and smile. They’ll drown in their beer.”

Jo Bell clapped her hands. “I always wanted to be on the stage. I’ll work hard, Starr. I truly will.”

“Just do what comes naturally, kid. You’ll be a sensation.”

Jo Bell clapped her hands again. “I’ll love that!”

“It’s settled then. Get your things and let’s get out of here.”

*  *  *

A week later when Charlie and Sant rode into town, Vince Lee was one of the first people they saw. He was at the livery saddling his horse. He looked up as Charlie dismounted, then put his knee against the horse’s side to tighten the cinch.

“Where’s my sister?” Charlie demanded.

Vince looked up again. His eyes moved to Sant, who was sliding from the saddle.

“Try Starr Palace.” Vince turned his back, picked up his saddle bags, flung them over the horse and tied them down.

“What’a ya done to her?”

“Nothin’. I brought her here. It’s what she wanted.”

“If ya’ve ruint her, I’ll kill ya.”

“Big talk,” Vince muttered.

“I mean it,” Charlie said and almost choked on the words. “She’s just a dumb . . . girl.”

Vince turned to face Charlie, his hands at his sides. “Let me tell you somethin’ about your sister, kid. She can take care of herself. I’ll admit I was taken in by her pretty face, but believe me that’s all she’s got—a pretty face. She’s a selfish bitch! She wants no part of me. I’m lucky to find that out now. She’s the kind that’ll eat a man alive.”

“Ya got no right to be sayin’ that.”

“I think I have. She played me for the fool I am. I never touched your sister. Not that I didn’t want to, mind ya. She can make a man forget everything except the urge to get between her legs. I may not amount to much to some folks’ way of thinking”—he glanced at Sant—“but I ain’t never forced myself on a woman.”

“Ya aimed to just ride off and leave her?”

“My money’s gone and if I don’t work, I don’t eat.”

“Well, guess I can’t blame ya none. Where’d ya say she was?”

“Starr Palace. It’s the new saloon up the street.”

“Well,” Charlie said again. “I’m obliged to ya for lookin’ out for her till I could get here.”

Vince shook his head in disbelief and glanced at Sant.

“If you’re wantin’ a job, mosey on down to where we penned the mules.” Sant spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. “I’ll be needin’ a extra hand.”

“You mean it?” Vince looked surprised.

“Said it, didn’t I? Me and Charlie’ll be along.”

“I’m obliged. But if you don’t mind, I’ll hang around and ride back with you.”

“Suit yoreself.”

Sant followed Charlie down the street and through the swinging bat-wing doors of the Starr Palace. Sparkling chan
deliers hung from the ceiling. The long bar had a brass footrail and behind it was an array of mirrors and bawdy paintings. The place was crowded with businessmen in black serge suits, drovers, gamblers, drifters, and railroad workers. They had all came to see and to hear the beauty known as “The Darlin’ of Sheridan.”

On the well-lighted stage, a girl in a pink dress decorated with lace and ribbons sat in a swing—the ropes of which were entwined with flowers. Her short dress exposed long slender legs, the low neckline showed a goodly amount of her bosom. Satin streamers trailed as she swung gently back and forth and sang in a low, husky voice.

In Scarlet town where I was born

There was a fair maid dwelling.

Made every youth cry well away,

Her name was—Barbara Allen.

The huge room was deathly still while Jo Bell sang the sad song. Anyone who dared whisper or shuffle his feet was quickly hushed. The card players ceased to play, their eyes riveted on the girl. Men at the bar held their drinks in their hands. Starr stood on the stairs looking down at the scene with a smile on her face.

The song ended. Jo Bell slipped from the swing, bowed and threw kisses. The roar from the audience fairly shook the rafters. She came to the edge of the stage and was immediately swept up in the arms of a young drover, who carried her to the middle of the room where she was placed on a table. Her face was flushed with excitement. She smiled and clapped her hands, her eyes sweeping across the faces of the men, who gazed at her adoringly and continued to cheer.

At first Jo Bell didn’t see the young boy pushing and shoving his way through the men who crowded around her.
When she recognized him, the smile left her face, her mouth turned down at the corners and she stamped her foot angrily.

“Jo Bell! Get off that table and stop makin’ a show of yoreself,” Charlie demanded. “They can see yore legs clear up past yore knees.”

A few of the men around him snickered, others turned to look at the boy.

“Hear me, Jo Bell? Get down off there right now!” Charlie reached up to grab her hand.

“Hold on here, youngster.” A big man in a black serge suit threw his arm out to push Charlie back. “Ain’t nobody touchin’ our little darlin’.”

“She’s
my
sister, ya big clabber-head.” Charlie looked up to see Jo Bell shaking her head. “Get off there, Jo Bell. Yore shamin’ yoreself.”

“How about it, little lady? Ya want me to turn this kid inside out and hang him out to dry?” The man in the suit caught Charlie by the nape of the neck.

“I ain’t carin’, sugar,” Jo Bell said in a breathless voice. “I ain’t never seen him before.”

“Jo Bell,” Charlie yelled. “I’m warnin’ ya. Straighten up and act right, or . . . or . . . I’ll wash my hands of ya.”

For an answer, Jo Bell bent over, put her thumbs in her ears, wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue. The men hooted and ogled her exposed bosom as her dress fell away. Two big cowhands grabbed Charlie under the arms and lifted him off his feet. As they headed for the door, Sant stepped in front of them.

“Put him down.”

“Ya wantin’ some of the same, old man?”

“Put him down . . . easy.” Sant’s hand hovered over the gun on his hip.

“Hey, now. Be careful, old man. There ain’t but one of ya and there’s two of us.”

“There’s two of us too.” Vince’s voice came from behind Sant. “I’ll take the one on the left, Sant. I’m thinkin’ he figgers he’s pretty fast.”

“Well, looky here. Ain’t this the cowboy we threw outta here the other night for botherin’ our little darlin’?”

“Damned if it ain’t. Reckon we didn’t learn him nothin’ a’tall.” The cowboy’s voice was loud in the sudden hush.

“You’ve got another chance,” Vince said. “Make your move.”

“Put the boy down.” Starr’s voice filled the quiet room. “I’ll have no rough stuff in my place.” She stepped in front of the cowboys.

“If it’s what ya want, ma’am.” The men set Charlie on his feet and backed away.

“Go on back to where you came from, Charlie. This is what Jo Bell wants,” Starr said kindly.

“This ain’t what Ma had in mind for her, or Pa either.”

“They’re dead, she isn’t,” Starr said cruelly. “Stay here and I’ll get you some money—for the kindness your pa showed me.”

“Ya paid him by sleepin’ with him. I don’t want yore damn money. What I wanted was for my sister to be decent and if she ain’t goin’ to, then she’s goin’ to have to do without me.”

“She’ll be all right. I’ll look after her.”

“And turn her into a whore like you,” Charlie spat.

Starr laughed. “You’ll soon find out, if you haven’t already, that a good whore is an important part of a man’s life. Stay and listen to your sister sing again. When she sings
I’m
Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage
, the crowd goes wild.”

“I ain’t wantin’ to hear or see any kin of mine actin’ like a slut.” Without as much as a glance at his sister, who was still standing on the table, Charlie shoved open the bat-wing doors and left the saloon. Vince followed.

“It’s better to cut the tie completely.” Starr looked at Sant and recognized him for the man he was—a tough old timber wolf who had been over the mountain and around the bend.

“Yeah. The girl’s a born whore—like you.” Sant dropped his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it before he nudged Starr beneath the chin with his knuckles.

“You said it right, old hoss. Come back—anytime.” Starr’s laugh followed Sant out the door and across the porch to the street.

*  *  *

When Willa told Maud that she and Smith were going to marry, the woman was so angry Willa feared she would have another convulsion.

“What’d ya say? Yore goin’ to . . . goin’ to marry that slick-handed, murderin’ bastard?” Maud raised up in the bed, her eyes wild, her face distorted with hate and disbelief. “Ya know what he done.”

“I love him.”

“Love? Godamighty,” she swore. “Ya ain’t got the brains of a pissant if ya—”

“—That’s enough, Mrs. Eastwood. My private life is none of your business.”

Willa’s sharp words had no effect on Maud.

“I was wrong ’bout ya. Wrong as I could be. Yore lookin’ for the main chance. Just like him. Yore likin’ what ya see here and thinkin’ that sneakin’ shithead’ll get it for ya.”

Willa was stunned by the intensity of the attack, but not so much that she didn’t feel a hot flash of anger boil up inside her and spill out in harsh words.

“Just stop right there!” she shouted. “You’re a selfish, hateful old woman who hasn’t an ounce of compassion in your miserable body.”

“He took everythin’ from me,” Maud yelled and burst
into tears. “He shined up to Oliver till Oliver was with him more’n me. Then ’stead of helpin’ him, he killed him. Damn him. He killed him!”

“I know that. He had to have a . . . reason—”

“—He courted ya, jist to get ya away from me.”

“He did no such thing. Smith is a good man. He stayed here, took your abuse and looked after you. And he loves me.” Willa had to shout to make herself heard over Maud’s sobs. “And I love him. Do you hear? I love him!”

“Get outta my house, ya . . . hussy! Get out and don’t ever come back. Hear?”

“Gladly, Mrs. Eastwood. I’ll leave you to wallow in self-pity, to hold onto your grudges, and to place the blame for your lonely existence on everyone but yourself.”

Willa went through the door just as a glass crashed into the doorjamb by her head. She was too angry to realize what she had done until she was halfway down the stairs. Then she was horrified. What if she had upset Maud to the extent the woman had another convulsion? Willa hurried down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Inez! Inez!”

Inez pulled her hands from the dishwater and dried them on her apron.

“You told her, huh? I could hear her yellin’ all the way down here.”

“She’s very upset. She could have another convulsion. Will you go stay with her?”

“’Course. You go on out and cool off yourself. I swan, there’s times I think Maud’s got horse shit for brains.”

Willa walked out onto the porch and wrapped an arm about a post and leaned her head against it. Life was not easy. Maud’s hatred for Smith did not in any way diminish her own love for him. She saw him in the corral talking to a group of men who were mounted and ready to ride out. His sun-
bleached hair was wind-tousled. Some men seldom took their hats off; Smith seldom wore one. Her heart swelled with love and pride.

The men rode out. Smith closed the gate behind them, waved to her and came toward the house. It had been three days since they had first made love to each other. Willa had hugged her happiness close, telling only Inez—until today. She dreaded telling Smith of Maud’s reaction. But—she had been ordered out of the house. She couldn’t very well stay where she was not welcome.

Smith’s eyes held hers as he approached. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“I can tell.” He put his hands on her waist, drew her to him and kissed her hard on the lips.