The Mail Order Bride's Deception (17 page)

In addition to a knife, he had a gun.  He’d come prepared to kill anyone who got in his way. 
He had killed Hazel.  She saw the effects of the poison he’d given her.  Then he’d killed Al and Gilbert…  Another tear went down her cheek.  It was impossible to know what someone like James was capable of.

No wonder Hazel
tried to run away and burned all evidence of where she was going.  If only that fragment of the mail-order bride ad had burned with everything else. Poor Hazel.  She had been so careful.  But even the best of plans weren’t guaranteed success.  She did what she could.  She tried.  And failed.  Another tear slid down Sadie’s cheek.  She had no idea what Hazel went through when she was taking her trip north.  Was she relieved?  Was she scared?  Did she think she got away in time?  Did she believe James hadn’t discovered her plan and didn’t have a way to stop her?

It was a shame Hazel hadn’t told her more.  But then, maybe it was just as well that she didn’t know the details.  Whatever Hazel had gone through, it hadn’t been pleasant, and Sadie had enough unpleasantness to last her a lifetime.

Shifting so her back was to the men, she opened her eyes and looked up at the blue sky again.  The color was beautiful, as always.  She decided she’d always associate it with freedom and hope.  She had enough of colors that were associated with dark and painful things.  It was time she picked one that could always give her a sense of joy, even if that joy could never be recaptured again.

Chapter Seventeen

“Come on, dear,” James said as he patted Sadie’s cheek.  “We’re home.”

Sadie could barely bring herself to open her eyes.  The trip had been mostly a blur.  Once she got on the train, he’d put a cloth over her mouth and nose, and whatever was on it, it kept her asleep through most of the ride in the train car.  He had never left her side.  Not once.  Whether she ate or had to use the necessary, he was right there.  And if he had to use the necessary, she was right there, too.  There was no chance of escape.  He left nothing to chance.  Never had she encountered anyone so dangerous.

“Wake up,” James said again, this time pulling her to her feet.  “You need to walk.”

She winced as he squeezed her arms.

“The train’s about to stop,” he whispered in her ear and turned her so that he was behind her.  He pressed a knife into the small of her back.  “Don’t do anything stupid.  Just walk as if everything is natural.”

“You think I want to go back to Madame’s?” Despite feeling groggy, she shoved at him.  “You might as well kill me and get it over with.”

He grabbed her by the throat and threw her to the seat.  She held her head, too dizzy to regain her balance.  He squeezed her arms again, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“There are things worse than death,” he hissed.  “No one cares about a prostitute.  You think anyone will come looking for you?  Don’t think that husband of yours is going to.  The dead can’t come back for the living.  Now, get up and walk or I’ll show you how uncomfortable a broken bone can be.”

The man wasn’t bluffing.  And as much as she didn’t want to be at a brothel, it was better than being with him.  With a heavy sigh, she struggled to stand up
.  But with her head still spinning, she stumbled back against the window.

He grasped her arm and shoved her at the door.  “You can’t honestly still be groggy from the chloroform.”

She leaned against the door so she wouldn’t lose her balance again.  “I’m doing my best,” she muttered.

“Do better than that.  Now stand up straight.”

She forced herself to obey and didn’t fight him as he opened the door.  He clasped her arm and dragged her out of the car.  The train slowed but it was still difficult for her to keep up with his pace.  Finally, when it came to a stop, she was able to gain some of her balance back.

The journey off the train and to the brothel was a blur.  She didn’t know if she wanted to be alert for any of it, so she didn’t fight the sensation that told her she was in a dream.  It was easier to go along with it because it dulled the pain of knowing she would never see Al or Gilbert again.

By the time they reached the brothel, she thought she was going to pass out.  She was far too weak, and she wasn’t sure if it was the lack of proper food and water or being constantly subdued into sleeping.  Maybe it was a mixture of all those things.  Or maybe it was grief.  In spite of it all, she remained standing while James knocked on the door.

“Ordinarily, I would never be caught dead in a place like this,” he whispered then chuckled.  “A mistress is far cleaner to deal with.”

“With a good doctor, even diseases can be taken care of,” she snapped.

“Not all diseases.”

True, but enough of them.  Madame prided herself on running a clean establishment.  Sadie rolled her eyes.  Whether it be mistress or prostitute, she saw little difference.  Both were used by men.  Both received money for their services.  It was nothing like being a wife who was honored and cherished.  A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

The door opened and Jefferson’s gaze went to Sadie.  “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I thought I’d do you a favor and return her,” James said.

“Bored of her?”

He snorted.  “I didn’t take her.  No.  She went all the way to the South Dakota Territory and took up with a man.  But he doesn’t want her anymore and I’m to send her back, if the price is right.”

“And if Madame isn’t interested?”

He shrugged.  “I suppose I can drop her off at another brothel.  I’ve seen the looks men gave her as we came here.  She’s a beauty.  Far more beautiful than a lot of other women.  I gather men would pay handsomely for a night with her.”

The corner of Jefferson’s mouth twitched.  “Come in and I’ll get Madame Eleanor.”

James’ hold on Sadie’s arm tightened as he followed Jefferson down the hallway.  Sadie brought her hand up to her mouth when they stepped into the parlor.  The smell of smoke and alcohol filled the large room.  The purple rug, red sofas and chairs and purple drapes only added to her nausea.  She closed her eyes and thought back to the simple cabin Al owned, but all she could see was James shooting Al and Gilbert as they slept.

“You should be proud,” James whispered in her ear.  “These people value you enough to pay for you.  I doubt they’d pay for
just any whore who returned.”

He pushed her toward one of the couches and sat next to her.  Taking a cigar from the middle of the table in front of them, he lit it up and leaned back, crossing his legs and letting out a long puff of smoke.

Her stomach rolled and she leaned forward so her forehead rested on her knees.  She concentrated on the sound of her breathing, numbering each one as she inhaled and exhaled.  Again, her mind flashed back to Al and Gilbert, but the happy image was quickly replaced with a gun and James’ amused snicker.  The man was a monster.

“How could you do it?” she asked, finally looking up at him.

“Do what?” James asked and flicked some ashes in the nearby ashtray.

“How could you kill a baby?  He was a defenseless little boy.  He couldn’t do anything to protect himself.”

He shrugged.  “Sometimes we’re forced to do unpleasant things.  You of all people should know that, given your profession.”

“Nothing could be more unpleasant than killing a baby.”

“And what good would it have done any of us if he had lived?  You would have wanted to go back, and I can’t have you doing that.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice.  “You’re the only one who can connect me to Hazel’s death.  I worked too long and too hard to let anyone get in my way.  With her out of the way, I inherit everything.”

“This is all about money?”

“You honestly can’t tell me you’re surprised.  Men come here to seek pleasure and they give your madame money.  You of all people should understand the entire world is after money.”

Before she married Al, she would have agreed with him.  But since she did marry him, she knew that there were people—good and honest people—who didn’t use money for selfish ambition.  “I feel sorry for you.  You might have money, but you’ve lost your soul.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.  “You should be feeling sorry for yourself.  You’re the one who’ll be used by men who care nothing for you.”

Familiar footsteps
descended the stairs.  Sadie wrapped her arms around herself.  She’d know Madame’s ominous footsteps anywhere.

“I hear you found my wayward lady of the evening,” Madame said as she entered the room.

James rose from the couch and offered a polite nod.  “Indeed I have.” He gestured to Sadie who refused to look at Madame Eleanor.

“Yes, she’s one of mine,”
Madame replied.  “Sadie, it’s been a long time since you left us.”

Sadie chose not to respond.  There wa
s nothing she could say that Madame would accept.  She didn’t want to think of what Madame was going to do with her once James left and she was free to put aside all pretenses of being polite.

Madame went over to a decanter and poured a glass of brandy
then handed it to James.  She gestured for him to sit and he did.  Madame pulled up a chair and sat across from them.  “I hear you wish to sell her to me.”

The conversation was so eerily reminiscent of the one Sadie’s mother had with her all those years ago when Sadie first came here.  Sadie was so scared back then.  She’d begged her mother not to do it, but her mother refused to even look at her.

“I’ve had her before, as you know,” Madame told James.  “I can’t pay a virgin’s price for her.”

“Nor would I expect you to,” he replied then sipped his brandy.  “But you have to admit, she’s unbelievably beautiful.  I bet men pay very well for the opportunity to be with her.”

Madame shifted in the chair.  “Of course.  We offer nothing but beautiful ladies.  Do you wish to have an evening with her?”

He laughed.  “I could have taken her at any time over the past week but didn’t.  I have a mistress who suits me better.”

“Ah, but I doubt a mistress knows certain things to pleasure a man like she would.  She’s been trained by the best.”

Sadie swallowed the bile in her throat.  She didn’t want to think of the lessons Jefferson gave her.

James took another puff of his cigar and smiled.  “As tempting as it is, I have a train ticket set for this afternoon.  I only came to sell her.”

“A shame.  I doubt your mistress could satisfy you
like Sadie could.  We have many men who return to this brothel instead of other establishments in the area for good reason.”

“You certainly make a tempting offer, but as I said, I’m not going to be in Omaha for long.  I only wish to sell her and be on my way.”

“Very well.” Madame leaned forward and made eye contact with him.  “As I said, I can’t offer the virgin price.  Beautiful or not, a virgin is worth more when she comes to us.”

“Maybe
, but for all her experience, she must have some value.”

“She does.  All of my girls do.” She took a deep breath and drummed the arm of her chair.  “Twenty dollars.”

“Oh come now, she’s worth more than that.  Her beauty alone will earn you more than that in two months.”

“I see you’re a shrewd businessman.  Fine.  Forty.”

He drank the rest of his brandy and set the glass on the table.  “A hundred.”

“A hundred?”

“She’ll earn more than that in a year.  Considering you’ll be using her services for longer than that, you’re getting a bargain.  I could ask five hundred.”

Sadie didn’t want to hear any
more of this.  It was so degrading.  She didn’t want to think of how much she’d earned Madame over the years she’d been there, nor did she want to go through with any of this.  “This man has killed people,” she blurted out.  “His cousin, a man, and a baby.  He has no regard for anyone but himself.”

Beside her, Ja
mes stiffened, but Madame laughed.  “None of this concerns you, Sadie.” She waved at her dismissively.  “You’ll have to forgive her.  She will say anything to get out of doing her job.”

James relaxed and smiled.  “She wasn’t easy to bring here.”

“I can imagine.  When she first came here, she made several attempts to run away and even created some rumors about the most notable customers who frequent this establishment.  You’re not the first one she’s rambled some unbelievable stories about.  It’s a cry for attention, I suppose.”

“Or an overactive imagination.”

Sadie’s face grew warm but she kept her mouth shut.  All of the stories she used to tell Madame were true, but Madame refused to believe any of them.  She never could figure out if it was because Madame had nothing but contempt for her or if it was because she honestly couldn’t believe the men she catered to were capable of the things Sadie accused them of.  But one did steal from Madame’s petty cash, another did use Sadie’s services more often than he paid for them, and another did poison another prostitute.  What good was reporting any of it?  James was right.  When people looked at her, all they saw was a prostitute.  And prostitutes were only good for one thing.

Madame tapped her fingers on
the chair for a couple seconds then said, “Eighty dollars.  That’s my final offer.”

James finished his cigar and seemed to think over her offer for a few seconds before he nodded.  “You drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal.  Eighty dollars.”

With a smile, Madame rose to her feet.  “I’ll be right back with the money.”

Sadie wondered if James was going to say an
ything to her since she told Madame what he did, but thankfully he didn’t.  Jefferson came into the room a few seconds later and went over to Sadie.  It’d do her no good to fight him.  He was too strong for her, and she was too tired.  She followed him out of the room and up the all-too-familiar stairs she’d hoped she’d never have to climb again.

“You’re in luck,” Jefferson said as he led her down the hall that reeked of sex.  “You can have your old room.”

She placed her hand up to her nose to block out as much of the smell as possible.  He stopped at the door and opened it.  Avoiding eye contact with him, she entered the room.  The yellow rug, the green curtains, the red bed coverings…  She hated those colors, especially when they were mixed together.  And now they were staring at her all over again.

Jefferson chuckled.  “You know, it’s ironic how you can tell Madame Eleanor the truth, but she’ll never believe you.”

Surprised, she looked over at him.

“I was there when that woman was dying in the doctor’s office.” He smirked at her.  “It’s not your fault, my dear.  You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And now you’re back here.”