Bartered: A Western Romance

by Mary Wehr

  Chapter Three

  “Cows fed and bedded down for the night?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Emma replied, scooping another spoonful of stew onto a battered tin plate. She set the plate on the table in front of her father and picked up a small bowl. Scraping what little was left into it, she joined him at the table.

  “Way too many greens and potatoes in this shit. Add more meat next time.”

  With a shaky hand, Emma picked up her spoon. She never learned that sometimes it was better to keep her mouth shut. “I use what you give me.”

  The slap came out of nowhere, knocking the spoon from of her hand and sending it clattering to the floor.

  “You implying I don’t provide enough for this household?”

  “I’m only speaking the truth,” she mumbled, picking up the spoon and tossing it in a basin filled with soapy water. On her way back to the table she grabbed another one from the cupboard and sat down once again.

  “Gal, you reach eighteen yet?”

  “I turned nineteen two weeks ago, Pa.”

  “Then what’s with the pants and baggy shirt? It’s time you got hitched. You won’t find a man looking like a boy.”

  Her father belched loudly then wiped his mouth along his soiled shirtsleeve, ignoring the square linen she had placed beside his plate.

  Emma merely shrugged.

  “Don’t just sit there disrespecting me. Don’t you see me struggling day in and day out? I could use another man around here. I’m getting old, gal.” He paused only long enough to shove a spoonful of stew in his mouth. “Just forget it. No decent man would give you a second glance anyway.”

  Bits of food spewed everywhere as he continued an onslaught of insults from her appearance right down to her housekeeping skills. Her appetite lost, Emma quietly accepted his ridicule. He had his drinking buddy, Jeb Montgomery and his son, Chad to blame for her sudden change in attire.

  Just the other day, Chad had cornered her in the barn while she was brushing down her horse and tried to steal a kiss. He left that day sporting a black eye. Later in the evening Jeb had stopped by for a game of cards and found her alone in the kitchen.

  He’d grabbed her breast and when she opened her mouth to scream, his tongue touched hers only for the briefest of seconds but it was enough to make her gag. She kneed him in the groin. While he was busy clutching his balls she ran back to her room.

  First thing in the morning she’d told her pa what Jeb had done, but he insisted that she must’ve have misread his intentions and to forget about it. Furious, she ripped an old bed sheet in strips wide enough to bind her breasts. All men were alike. They were worse than animals and if her own father wouldn’t keep her safe then she’d have to do it herself. Rummaging through some old clothes, she found a couple of pairs of pants and shirts.

  No longer would she wear dresses when they went to town. No longer would she keep her hair down or wear fancy ribbons. There was no man in town she wished to impress. Except maybe for one and he couldn’t care less.

  A couple of days later she heard Jeb had taken a fall and would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Emma wasn’t the kind of person who’d deliberately wished bad things to happen to people, but she felt no remorse for the man or his son, Chad.

  “I guess I wasn’t destined to be as beautiful as Ma.”

  Ray’s reply was a loud harrumph. “Ain’t that the truth? Your mother was a handsome woman.”

  “Then why didn’t you ever tell her? Why didn’t you ever make her feel wanted around here?”

  “‘Cause them fancy words don’t get the work done, that’s why. I hoped she’d do me good and give me a son.” He eyed her with disgust. “I ended up with two useless females instead.”

  Emma’s heart seized in her chest. His insults were an everyday occurrence, but there were times when every cruel word would pierce her like a barb. She swallowed hard. She would not show weakness and cry in front of him or any other man for that matter.

  “Then you never really loved Ma.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Love has nothing to do with it. The sooner you learn that the better off you’ll be. A man has certain needs, gal. Your ma took care of those needs. She cooked and cleaned and knew her place too and that’s something you still need to learn.” He jabbed a gnarly finger at her. “I need help around here. What about Chad?”

  Puzzled, Emma raised a brow. “You want to hire Chad?”

  “Jesus almighty, no. If I hired him I’d have to pay him. I’m talking about marriage, gal. He’s a fine boy, plus his family has money. Try to pretty yourself up and do some flirting. He’d make a damn good son-in-law if you ask me.”

  Emma’s eyes widened in shock. “Marry Chad? He’s as disgusting as his father. Look, Pa, maybe I don’t want to get married.”

  Ray Foley pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Then what do you expect from me? I can’t keep feeding the two of us without you earning some money. A rich husband would be welcome around here.” He dug into his pants pocket for a wad of chew. “I’m going to town for a decent meal. While I’m gone you think long and hard about what I said.”

  Left alone, Emma cleared the table and washed the dishes. She pumped water into a large pot and set it on the cook stove then went out and sat on the porch step while she waited for the water to heat.

  Hugging her knees to her chest, she watched the sunset, marveling at the mixture of orange, purple, and pink. Another day was at its end. Being able to appreciate such a dazzling array of colors always gave her a sliver of hope that there was always a chance tomorrow could turn out much better than today.

  Emma sat long after the sun had set and worried about her future. She had an awful feeling in her belly that Pa was hell-bent on marrying her off. She’d run away if he insisted she marry Chad. These were the times when she wished she had her ma to talk to. She missed their conversations.

  Sometimes they’d sit outside on a fine night like this and she’d listen avidly while her ma would tell her stories about how life was when she had been a young girl living on a farm.

  Emma matured quickly and their talks became more intimate. She remembered wanting to know why the boys at school would stare at her chest.

  “Don’t pay any attention to them,” her ma said. “They’re just being immature.”

  Then the subject of marriage came up.

  “A man will never lose his freedom, Emma. He’ll be able to do whatever he wants without question. A woman can’t lose her freedom because she never had any to begin with. She’d be expected to obey and respect her husband.”

  That didn’t sound fair to Emma. “So, when, or if, I ever fall in love and get married, nothing would really change. It’d be just like it is now only I’d have a husband to answer to instead of a father, right, Ma?”

  “That’s right, Emma,” her ma replied. “But there’s more. A wife must always accommodate her husband by submitting to his will whenever the urge comes over him.”

  So, what exactly was this urge?

  Emma smiled. Her poor mother had hemmed and hawed so much over the question that Emma felt guilty for asking. Evidently, men were more prone to these urges than women.

  “Your new husband will teach you everything you need to know. Then, when you swell with child and deliver a healthy son to carry on the family name, you’ll know happiness.”

  Emma pondered a moment. “But what if the baby turned out to be a girl?”

  Her ma’s tone became sullen. “Some men would be happy and some would want to keep trying for a son. A wife also had no right to complain if her husband went elsewhere to satisfy his urges.”

  Right from the start, Emma had issues with this entire scenario. “Don’t women have urges too?” That question had earned her a fierce scolding.

  “Emmaline Foley, decent moral women don’t have urges. If they did they’d get down on their knees and pray for strength.”

  After that their talks became few and far in between.r />
  Emma’s face grew hot. If the past couple of nights were any indication then she couldn’t consider herself a moral woman. There wasn’t a position she could find that would help to hinder the urge to touch the most intimate parts of her body.

  She even tried sleeping on her belly with her hands trapped beneath so they wouldn’t stray, only to awaken with one hand between her legs and her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

  One time Emma asked why she never had a sibling to play with and was shocked to learn that she had a little brother who died at birth. Deep in the back of her mind, she often wondered if that was the reason why her father didn’t like her.

  The cooing of a dove snapped Emma back to the present. She had to face facts. Life was tough and for a single woman tougher still. If her only option was to marry then she’d do the choosing. She wouldn’t marry Chad Montgomery if he was the last man on earth. He was just a younger version of his father.

  A suitable man would have to be confident and strong both in mind and body just to get along with her pa. The only man who came to mind was Jake McCabe, her childhood friend and oftentimes tormentor. Granted she had given as good as she got and he’d teased her mercilessly, but if she was ever bullied all she had to do was tell Jake and he’d take care of everything.

  Emma rested her forehead on her bent knees. That was years ago when life seemed to be much easier and worry-free.

  Their parents had been very good friends. Whenever they would visit the McCabes’ home she’d have to tag along because she wasn’t old enough to stay home by herself. But whenever the McCabes would come to her house, Jake was nowhere to be seen. The next time he saw her he’d call her a baby and she’d kick him in the shins.

  Emma chuckled to herself. One way or another she always managed to get revenge. There was a swimming hole located at the end of the McCabes’ property and the only way Emma was allowed to go was if she had someone older go along with her.

  That meant Jake would have to forgo any plans he may have made and play babysitter, which irked him to no end. She’d flash him a smirk and within seconds that familiar tic alongside his jaw would pop out and begin to bounce. Sometimes Jake’s close friend Jess would tag along. Although Emma liked Jess, he did his fair share of teasing too and that meant two against one, so she always had to keep her wits about her.

  She had a terrible temper and never learned to control it. On one of their excursions to the swimming hole, she warned Jess countless times not to call her by her full name. He simply laughed off the threat so she picked up a rock and hurled it at his head. She watched in horror as he fell to the ground. Jake was there to take charge while she stood by crying and thinking she had killed him.

  In the end, it all turned out well. Jess forgave her and insisted he could walk home by himself. Alone with Jake, she could almost feel the weight of his stare and when she finally got the courage to look at him, his expression was stern and unyielding. Even at the age of seventeen, he struck a very formidable figure.

  He was furious and rightly so, but when he had taken a step toward her, she turned tail and took off in the opposite direction. She didn’t get far. He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and ignored her screams of outrage. He set her on top of a large rock and delivered a lecture that nearly blistered her ears.

  Suddenly, the gravity of the situation came crashing down around her and she burst into tears. She remembered how Jake gently lifted her down from the rock and let her cry on his shoulder. When she finally calmed down, he cupped her chin and brushed his mouth lightly across hers.

  Stunned, Emma stepped back and placed a finger to her mouth. Their eyes connected for the briefest of seconds then he did the worst thing imaginable. He apologized. The kiss had been a mistake.

  To this day Emma cherished the memory of that kiss even though it seemed Jake had deeply regretted it.

  Not long after that, her ma had taken ill and passed away. There was no time for visits or weekly trips to town. She now had a household to run and rarely got a chance to relax. Once in a while she and her friend, Amelia, would sneak away to take a quick dip in her favorite waterhole.

  She had lost all contact with Jake except on his wedding day. John McCabe had graciously put aside his discontentment with her father and sent them an invitation. Although Ray grumbled throughout the entire ceremony, Emma kept her eyes on Jake and when the parson turned to the bride, Emma had silently repeated the vows.

  But to Emma’s surprise, Jake’s marriage hadn’t lasted long. Gossip and speculation had spread through town like wildfire. Lucille claimed he beat her. Emma refused to believe such vile nonsense. Jake was not a violent man.

  After his father died, Jake had taken over the running of the Long Horn Saloon. Sometimes Emma would catch a glimpse of him when she went into town with her father and her heart would lurch in her chest every time. If that kiss from Jake so long ago would be a daily part of her duty as a good wife then she was all for it.

  Sadly, she had come to the conclusion that the only man for her was Jake, but gaining his heart would be like trying to lasso the moon.

  Emma stood up and stretched her arms high above her head. It was high time she got back inside and washed. Whenever Pa went into town for a few hours of drinking, she’d make sure she was in bed before he got home.

  Chapter Four

  Ray bit out a curse. “Hell’s bells, Hank. One drink is all I want just to wet my whistle.”

  “No can do, Ray. First off, you don’t have an open tab anymore. Second, I value my life. Jake’ll pin my hide to the wall if I serve you without getting the money first.” Hank finished wiping down the bar then started dusting off the bottles on the shelf behind him one by one.

  “I used to own half this place, Hank. I had a say in hiring you. That should mean something.”

  “It does, but that ain’t the case anymore.” Hank set a full bottle of whiskey on the bar and proceeded to grab the next one in line. “Jake’s the boss now. You gotta pay first. That’s the rules.” Hank put down the second bottle and tossed the rag over one shoulder. “Look, we’ve been friends for a long time, but my job is at stake. Jake can be one mean son-of-a-bitch when it comes to running this saloon.”

  “Yeah, just like his old man.” Ray licked his lips. “But what Jake don’t know won’t hurt him. Come on, Hank. Don’t tell him. You know I’m good for it, just not yet. Right now I’m flat broke.” He glanced around the smoke-filled room. “Where is Jake anyway?”

  “He went out for a bit,” Hank replied, reaching around for another bottle. “If I were you I’d... well, hell.” In the split second his back was turned, Ray had made his way through the crowd with a bottle of whiskey clutched to his chest. “Get back here, you lowdown piece of shit.”

  Ray stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “Obliged, Hank, I’ll be back.”

  Hank tore the rag from his shoulder and slapped it on the bar. He may as well quit now and save the boss the trouble of kicking his ass out the door.

  “Why are you standing there looking like a fool?”

  Hank shot Dory a look of total despair. “Because I am a fool and I’ll be a dead fool once Jake gets back and finds out Ray took a bottle of whiskey without paying for it.”

  “Hank, please tell me you’re not serious?”

  “I wish I could. The bastard swiped it when my back was turned.”

  * * *

  Emma closed the kitchen curtains and quickly unbuttoned her shirt. She washed her face and arms first and then ran the washcloth along the back of her neck where she felt gritty with sweat.

  She chuckled, remembering the time her ma had scolded for using that word. Men sweated, women perspired. She started to loosen the knot that kept the cloth binding her breasts secure when the door burst wide open.

  “Emma, you up yet?”

  What in tarnation was Pa doing back so soon? She put her shirt back on and left the kitchen.

  “Pa, what’s wrong? Why are you back so
soon?”

  He opened his mouth and the stench of whiskey nearly knocked her out. “We be going into town.”

  “Now? I was just about to get washed and ready for bed.”

  “Too bad.” Ray grabbed her arm and steered her outside. “Git in the wagon.”

  “But Pa, I...”

  His open palm connected with her cheek. “Git in the wagon or I’ll whip you good.”

  Tears filling her eyes made it nearly impossible to see where she was going. “I don’t have my shoes.”

  Grumbling, Ray stomped back inside the house. Emma settled herself on the hard wooden bench. When her father came back out, he threw the shoes at her before climbing onto the wagon.

  “Where are we going, Pa?” she asked, pulling on one worn shoe then the other.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Chapter Five

  Jake arrived at the ranch well past six o’clock. A light flickering inside the barn drew his attention. He dismounted and led his horse the rest of the way.

  “Howdy, Wilbur, what are you doing out here this time of night?”

  Wilbur lifted one bony shoulder. “The missus insisted on waiting for you. I’m here ‘cause it’s a lot more peaceful like. Be warned. She’s in a bit of a mood.”

  Jake’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Is Martha sassing you again, eh? I told you what to do, but you won’t pay me any mind.” He led the stallion further inside the barn and unhitched the saddle. The horse dipped his head up and down as if in appreciation. “Good boy,” Jake cooed, stroking the velvety muzzle.

  “Listen here, you young whippersnapper. I was romancing the ladies long before you were even a thought. There’s nothing like an armful of ample female to keep a man warm at night, but if I tried to turn my woman over my knee like you done told me at my age I’d break my back. She’s a fine woman. She’ll calm down eventually. You home for the night?”

  “Nah, I have to go back in a while. Give Lightning some food and water while I go placate Martha.”