by Mary Wehr
Perhaps Dory was right about Megan starting fights just to get spanked. Word got around fast and from what he’d seen there were plenty of men to give her what she craved.
He had cravings too. He enjoyed turning a woman over his knee and watching her bare backside turn a glorious pink as he landed blow after blow. Soft whimpers of pain edged with pleasure made his cock swell. On his command, she would spread her legs so he could see her pink pussy oozing with arousal. But when it came to dishing out well-deserved discipline his demeanor changed to one of authority. His hand or belt would come down on its target without mercy.
Jake took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Emmaline Foley was different. She was an innocent. To him, she’d always be that little girl who loved to annoy him. The imp he’d been asked to keep out of trouble. He couldn’t allow himself to look at her in any other way. Her mother was a gentle soul and had raised her to be a genteel woman.
Jake felt a twinge of guilt. If Emmaline knew of his most base sexual appetites she’d probably smack him upside the head and call him a heathen.
Having set his mind on his purpose, Jake went behind the bar to talk to Hank.
“Boss, I’m really sorry about what happened tonight. Ray was quicker than a snake. He had that bottle in his hands before I could even blink.”
Jake waved away his apology. “What’s done is done. I don’t want to see Ray Foley in this saloon again.”
Hank nodded. “Will do, boss.”
“Any idea who started the rumor about an underage kid being dropped off here?”
“I don’t know,” Hank replied, “but I’m sure someone will mention it. What about Emma?”
“What about her?”
“She’s a good girl, Jake. She shouldn’t be in a place like this.”
Hmm, good ole Hank seemed overly interested in Emmaline. Could he be sweet on her? Jake was shocked to feel a pang of jealousy. “And where do you think she should go?”
“My ma sure would love to have another female in the house to talk to.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind her company either.”
Hank flushed red in the face. “Well, yeah, she’s a nice girl.”
That pang turned into a full-blown spasm even though Hank’s suggestion made perfect sense. Emmaline would have a decent place to stay until something else could be figured out and Hank’s ma would have someone to chat with.
He could also take her back to the ranch. Martha would watch over her like a mother hen.
There were two simple solutions to his dilemma. One of them was staring him right in the face, so why was he hesitant? She’d be out of his hair and out of sight. His gut clenched. He knew exactly why he hesitated. Hank going home every night to Emmaline rankled the hell out of him. Either solution would never get him any alone time with Emmaline, not that he really wanted some alone time.
“Obliged for the offer, Hank, but she stays put until I can come up with something else.”
Jake scanned the crowd. He spotted Dory and waved her over. “Wait until we’re about to close for the night then take Emmaline upstairs and put her in the same room as Trudy. They’re around the same age and should get along fine. Megan can bunk with you and Claire for the time being.”
Chapter Ten
Emma woke with a start.
Bits and pieces of what her father had done came flooding back along with that ache deep inside her chest. If it wasn’t for Jake’s hospitality, she’d be out on the street. But staying in a saloon amidst all the depravity that went on night after night wouldn’t be tolerated by decent folk even if she swore no man had touched her.
Ma was probably rolling over in her grave right about now. She’d been raised as a proper lady for all the good it had done.
By now the entire town had probably heard the news about how Ray Foley had dropped her off like trash. Pa didn’t have a whole lot of friends. Most knew he was a drunk, but he’d be excused. She, on the other hand, would be ostracized. No decent woman would spend the night in a saloon filled with debauchery. She’d be admired if she slept in some dark alleyway risking her very life.
The door opened and she swung her legs to the floor.
Dory leaned against the doorjamb. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can clean up.”
Emma rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly two in the morning, now hurry up. I’m beat and I want to go to bed.”
Emma hesitated. She didn’t relish going out there and being gawked at and yet, a bath sounded heavenly. “Where’s Jake?”
“Why, ain’t I good enough?”
Emma’s face heated with temper. She didn’t want to argue, but it was apparent that this woman did not like her. “I never implied such a thing. Is the saloon closed?”
Dory laughed. “Most of the men are gone or on their way out. Besides, they wouldn’t give a plain thing like you a second glance.” On that note, she left the room, not bothering to check if Emma was following her.
The place was empty except for Hank who was busy turning chairs upside down and putting them on the empty tables. Their gazes met and she couldn’t help but feel like an unwanted ragamuffin.
“Miss Foley, if you need anything please don’t be afraid to ask.”
Caught off guard by his open kindness, Emma responded with a shy smile and trailed Dory up the winding staircase to the second floor.
Dory stopped. “Our rooms are down the hall to the right. The rooms to the left are where we entertain. You’d do best to stay away from that area.”
They turned right and Dory opened the first door they came to. She waved Emma inside.
The room was quite spacious. A wall-to-wall open-faced walk-in closet occupied one side of the room and was bursting with bawdy colorful dresses, feathered boas, high-heeled shoes, and gewgaws.
Gunshots erupted. Emma placed a hand over her heart. “My word, is it always this noisy?”
“Such a timid little thing you are,” Dory chuckled. “You’ll get used to the noise around here.”
Another gunshot rang out followed by a woman’s shrill scream.
“Shouldn’t someone get the sheriff?”
“And get killed for poking in something that’s none of their concern?” Dory shook her head. “There ain’t nobody that brave in these neck of the woods. We all mind our own business. You’d be better off doing the same.”
Emma wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Surely the sheriff heard the gunshots and would investigate.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Our sheriff ain’t no Johnny Law. Ha, he’s probably the one doing the shooting.” Dory bypassed the row of colorful dresses and rummaged through a dresser. She pulled out several drab-looking dresses. “These should fit. The fancy ones ain’t for you.”
Emma ignored the deliberate jab. “Where can I wash up?”
Dory bunched the dresses into a ball and tossed them on the bed. “Right through here.” She opened another door. Within seconds Emma heard the sound of running water.
“There’s a latch on the door,” Dory said when she came back. “You’ll be sharing this room with Trudy.”
Emma asked, “Is Trudy a working girl too?”
“She is.” Dory stopped by the door and turned around. She eyed Emma with undisguised contempt. “You prim and proper women are all alike. You pretend not to see us when we pass on the street as if one look from a whore would set your hair on fire.”
The woman’s automatic assumption of her character irritated Emma. Pretending to panic, she rushed to the full-length mirror and frantically patted her head. “Gee, I don’t know about that. I’m talking to you and my hair isn’t burning.” But the air between them sizzled. “You don’t like the fact that I’m here. Why is that, Dory?”
Dory practically floated across the room in a pair of three-inch heels, which left Emma at a disadvantage. The tall voluptuous redhead looked down with a scowl. “Since you asked, no, I don’t. Me and Jake were getting a lot cl
oser until you showed up. Now he fusses over you like a mother hen and pays no mind to me.”
The thought that Jake and Dory could be lovers had never crossed her mind. Suddenly, Emma felt sick in the stomach.
“You don’t belong here.”
“I never said I did,” Emma shot back heatedly. “If you know of another place where I can stay temporarily, by all means, let’s hear it and I’ll leave.”
“It wouldn’t matter if I did.” Dory went to the door. “Jake made it perfectly clear that he wants you here and he’s the boss.” She slammed the door shut.
Emma stood in the middle of the room, her thoughts all awhirl. Pa had always been a hard man, a man who despised weakness of any form, but she never imagined he’d go this far.
As if in a trance Emma wandered into the small bathing closet and turned off the spigot. Running water accessible. A room much bigger than her own. A variety of clothing to choose from even though plain and unattractive. She was free from her father’s constant insults and yet she couldn’t let go of this painful ache deep inside her chest.
A lone tear spilled down her cheek and she brushed it away, but another followed then another. Emotionally drained, she crumbled to the floor and covered her face with trembling hands. Her own father didn’t want her. Jake looked like he wanted to strangle her and she was now sharing a room with a soiled dove.
There was also no sunset to watch. So much for hoping for a better tomorrow.
But finally having had enough of feeling sorry for herself, Emma got up off the floor and latched the door. She removed her shirt and began the tedious task of unwrapping the cloth binding her chest. Her breasts bounced free and she released a long sigh of relief. Pants and shoes quickly followed.
She sank deep into the hot water and closed her eyes. She’d get through this. She had to. Somehow, someway she’d earn enough money and leave Dodge. As soon as she got the chance she’d talk to Amelia about a job and if Jake wouldn’t allow her to stay at the saloon then she’d come up with something else.
At least now she knew the reason behind Dory’s contempt. She thought her relationship with Jake was being threatened. Emma giggled. If Dory only knew the truth about their relationship she’d be singing a different tune.
She could do the polite thing and assure Dory that she had nothing to worry about, but why not have a little fun with it? When Dory was around she could try a bit of flirting like batting her eyelashes. Emma grimaced. Forget the batting of the lashes. With her luck, Jake would insist she see a doctor.
The water caressed her body and helped calm her shattered nerves. Feeling much better, she quickly washed and dried off. She looked around the small washroom and realized the dresses Dory gave her were still on the bed. Emma picked her shirt and pants up from the floor and held the articles of clothing to her nose. She grimaced. Both stank of beer and smoke.
Clutching the towel close to her bosom, she carefully unlatched the door. Peering around the corner, she saw a young woman sitting on the edge of the bed busy taking off a pair of black stockings.
Not wanting to startle her, Emma said softly, “You must be Trudy.”
The girl looked up and smiled warmly. “I am and you must be Emma. Dory told me you’re staying for a while. Are you a new girl?”
“Oh, my, no, I’m not a...” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. She almost said whore. “What I meant to say is I’m not here to work.”
The petite blonde angled her head to the side and peered at her with obvious curiosity. “You must be the one everyone’s talking about.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “That depends on what everyone is saying.”
“Your pa traded you for a bottle of whiskey.”
“Well then, that’d be me. Word sure travels fast around here.”
“If it makes you feel any better I think what your pa did was downright despicable and cruel.”
“Thank you, Trudy. I appreciate you saying so.” Emma approached the bed and pointed to the crumpled dresses. “Dory gave me these dresses to wear while I’m here.”
Trudy snorted. “These old rags? I can find something else if you like.”
“Oh, my, no, these are fine.” Emma chose a pale blue. On her way back to the washroom, she placed the rest on top of the dresser. Not bothering to bind her chest, she slipped the dress over her head, thankful that the material didn’t cling to her bosom and the hem fell past her knees.
She ran her fingers through her damp hair before joining Trudy when the door burst open and three women entered the room talking all at once.
“All I’m saying is keep your hands off my fucking stockings from now on or I’ll scratch your eyes out. I got them all the way from New York.”
“Big fucking deal.”
Trudy swung her legs to the floor and stood up. “Will you two stop bitching about those stupid stockings before Jake loses his temper and comes up here?”
“I wouldn’t mind if Papa Jake came up here.”
“That’s because you like getting a whipping from Papa Jake.”
Puzzled, Emma blinked. “Who’s Papa Jake?”
All three women turned as one.
Trudy quickly made the introductions. “Girls, this is Emma. She’ll be staying here for a bit. Emma, meet Megan, Claire, and Spring. Now you all be nice while I wash up.”
Emma remained silent as the three women continued to stare at her with obvious interest. Megan, a sleek blonde with a purple feather poking out of her hair, stepped forward and made a point of checking Emma from head to toe as if she was inspecting a cow on the auction block. Emma was tempted to open her mouth and show her teeth.
Megan tossed back her head haughtily. “So you’re the reason why Jake changed the sleeping arrangements. You staying long?”
“Um, no, at least I hope not,” Emma replied.
“Why, ain’t we good enough to be around?” Megan asked with a whole lot of attitude.
“For Christ’s sake, Megan, can’t you stop being a bitch for once?” Claire winked at Emma. “Nice to meet you, honey.”
Emma smiled. “Likewise.”
Claire disappeared behind a partition painted with yellow flowers. A few seconds later Emma saw a pair of black thigh-high stockings thrown haphazardly over the top of the screen. “Here’s your stupid stockings, Megan. You can stop bragging about how much they cost. They ain’t nothing to write home about. The buggers itch like hell.”
Megan grabbed the stockings and held them out in front of her. “Well, hell, they ain’t worth a plug nickel now since you stretched them out with your pudgy thighs.”
“Shut your mouth before I tear out that head full of dried-out straw you call hair.” Claire stepped from behind the partition wearing a scowl and nothing else.
“Straw?” Megan screeched at the top of her lungs and lunged for Claire. Since Claire was a buxom woman it wasn’t long before she had Megan pinned to the floor.
“Get those big tits outta my face,” Megan snarled, struggling to get free, but Claire had a tight hold of each wrist and plopped her ass down on Megan’s stomach.
“Jealous?” Claire sneered, deliberately shaking her breasts in the other woman’s face.
Emma’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cover her eyes. Claire’s legs were spread wide as she straddled Megan and from Emma’s vantage point she could see every crack, cranny, and valley between a set of plump ass cheeks including the dark pink puckered hole. It was lewd and disgusting, yet she couldn’t look away.
Coming back into the room, Trudy grumbled, “Megan, I swear you love it when Jake whacks you with that belt.”
Emma frowned. “Jake really beats you?”
Trudy laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
Megan paused struggling and waggled her brows. “If we act up, Papa Jake gives us a few licks on the bare with his belt to teach us a lesson.”
Emma studied each girl in turn. Their candid expressions said it all. “But, but that’s terrible.”
>
Megan snickered. “Oh, honey, you don’t know what you’re missing. Papa Jake has a way of making it feel so good.” She switched her attention back to Claire and bucked her hips. “Will you get off me?”
“You just like showing off your skinny ass to the boss hoping he’d bend you over a table and fuck you,” Claire retorted, climbing off Megan. That comment brought on another round of insults, but Emma was too preoccupied to pay any attention. She was at a loss for words. Dear heavens, did Jake really make them take off their bloomers and whip their bare behinds? What if she angered him? Would he do the same to her? He did smack her once.
Jake wasn’t a boy anymore. He had grown into a big man with muscled arms and large hands. When his belt connected with bare skin it had to hurt, so why was she finding it difficult to catch her breath at the very thought of being disciplined by the handsome man?
“Emma, love, help me out of this corset, will ya?”
“Huh, what? Oh, yes, of course.” Relieved to have something else to focus on besides Jake McCabe and his belt, Emma hurried over to the bed where Spring stood holding tight to one of the bedposts. “Seems silly to be fighting over a pair of stockings.”
“Ha, you should be here when it’s over a man. Speaking of which, how do you know Jake?” Spring asked while Megan and Claire continued to bicker in the background.
“His parents and mine were friends.” Emma finished her task and stepped back.
Spring thanked her and added, “Just ignore them and stay clear.”
“I intend to,” Emma replied, watching as the two women got up from the floor. The purple feather that had graced the top of Megan’s head earlier was now crumpled and hanging over her face. If her own situation wasn’t so dire she would’ve thought it comical.
Megan collapsed on the bed. “I’m exhausted. Dammit, Claire, now I got a headache from all that yelling.”
“Me too,” Claire replied, rubbing her temples.
