by Izzy Hunter
'Why does everyone think that just because I'm a woman -' Mona complained.
'No, it's not because you're a woman. It's because you're one person. There's about a dozen of them.'
'I will not allow Henry to become some toy for them to play with,' she retorted.
'The big fella looks like he can take care of himself,' said Sam dismissively.
It only took Mona two strides to be close enough to strike him across the face.
'Mona!' said Sanders.
Hubert laughed and drank his tea. Wesley didn't know what to do so just stood there with his hands clasped behind his back.
Satisfied at his imprint of her hand on his face, Mona returned to the side of the mantelpiece and picked up her cup.
Sam held his cheek, and glanced briefly at her. 'I guess Henry likes 'em fiery, too.'
He just couldn't help himself, could he? Letting her cup fall to the floor, only one stride was needed this time. Her fist landed squarely in Sam's face. She felt the nose break beneath her knuckles. It was only due to the combined efforts of Wesley, Hubert and Sanders that she couldn't land another punch on the bastard's. Mess up his face some more.
'This will achieve nothing,' Sanders cried, keeping hold of Mona's right arm.
'It'll make me feel better,' she told him.
'Crazy bitch,' Sam muttered, his hand covering his bloodied face.
'Just stop!' Wesley, who was holding her other arm, cried. Mona stopped struggling and looked at the boy. He looked a little afraid, as if worried she was going to strike him next. He was the last person she would ever attack. He was too innocent.
'Okay, okay,' she conceded. 'I'll behave myself.'
Sanders watched her for a moment, then gave Wesley and Hubert the nod and they let her go. She slumped despondently onto the chair Sanders had lunged out of.
Wesley took her place by the mantelpiece and looked at them all. 'We need to come up with a plan... 'cause I liked the town the way it was, before those men came. They've got everyone afraid. They take whatever they want; horses, money, women. I don't want to live in a place like that. That's what No Hope used to be like.'
Sanders passed a handkerchief to Sam and then sat on the other armchair, facing Mona. She noticed the fond look he gave Wesley. The boy had been working for him for so long that they were more like father and son.
'We need someone on the inside,' said Hubert, taking part in the conversation for the first time. 'Someone who can find out what the gang are planning.' He turned in his chair and looked directly at Sam.
'Oh no,' said Mona. 'We are not using him. Having him is the only leverage we've got at the moment.'
'Them lot don't care about me, sweetheart,' said Sam, his voice affected by the handkerchief clutching his nose. Let me return to them. I can relay information back to you.'
'And why would you do that? You're one of them,' said Mona, not trusting herself to look at him again without resorting to violence.
'I guess I want to be a better person.'
'Bullshit,' she replied without hesitation.
Sanders sighed. 'We don't appear to have an alternative, at the moment. We're going to have to trust him.'
Once Sam's nose had stopped bleeding, they readied him to return to the gang. He was to get as much information as he could and then slip back to Sanders' to pass on what he'd learnt. Mona still didn't trust him, and declared that she'd go with him to the brothel, where the gang were currently based. Her decision didn't go down too well with the others.
'You're mad,' Sam told her. His nose a deep purple and twice the size it had been. 'They know to look out for an English woman. They'll recognise you as soon as you open that big mouth of yours.'
'Not necessarily,' she replied, in a faux-Texan twang.
'Oh lord,' muttered Sanders under his breath.
'Have faith,' Mona told him, before opening the door and slipping out. 'Stay put. I'll be back in a minute.'
'Where are you going?' cried Sanders.
His question was answered five minutes later when Mona swept back into his sitting room, causing the four men to fall silent. Her face was caked in make-up, her black hair sat piled atop her head.
'Well?' she asked, adjusting the frock a size too small for generous figure. A conscious decision on her part. 'How do I look?'
'Beautiful,' admitted Sam. 'But it still won't work. Tell her, Mr Sanders.'
'She won't listen to me,' the clockmaker replied. He looked at Mona and frowned. 'Not taking your gun?'
Mona smiled and indicated it was hidden within the confines of her dress. 'I'll only use it if I have to,' she told him. 'I'll find Henry, get him out of there and then come back here.'
'I wish you all the luck in the world,' said Sanders.
'We'll need it,' Sam said, as Mona caught him having a look at her cleavage. It was time to go. She opened the door again and pushed Sam out first. If anyone was outside with their guns ready to fire, he would get the first bullet.
The early evening had brought out myriad stars. Just like before, no one was out and about. This unnerved Mona even more than she already was.
'You know,' said Sam coolly, 'if you're supposed to be a floozy, you should really start acting like one.
'You were supposed to be a nice guy, maybe you should do the same,' she parried back.
Someone staggered out of the saloon and proceeded to take a leak. Caught out, Mona wrapped an arm around Sam and giggled. She glanced at the stranger. It was one of the old boys who spent their days and nights getting into a drunken stupor.
'Mm, that's better,' Sam said in a low tone, grabbing hold of her backside. 'And before you take offence; I'm pretending, too.'
They soon reached the brothel. A man with a long, droopy moustache sat slumped on the stairs, a jar of ale in his hand. He looked surprised when he saw Sam.
'The hell you doing back?' the man asked, squinting at them as he rose unsteadily to his feet. 'Thought you'd put your lot in with that Sheriff bitch.'
'I heard Trent was Sheriff now,' said Sam.
'Yeah,' said the man, sounding anything but enthused. He looked at Mona, and a grin spread across his face, revealing broken teeth. 'Who's your friend?'
'She's a little something I picked up in the city,' Sam told him with a leer, grabbing Mona's backside again.
She played along. Giggling and tickling Sam's chin. Inside, though, she was seething. As soon as this night was over, she'd make sure she had a bath to scrub every inch of him off her.
The door to the brothel opened and Tallulah came out. This evening she wore a ruby red dress and her blonde hair down, framing her angular face. 'Oh, there you are,' she said, her eyes focused only on Sam's friend. Then she caught sight of Mona and frowned. Mona stared back, praying the girl couldn't see her properly.
Sam read the situation correctly. He turned to his friend. 'So, gonna let me see Trent?'
'Sure,' said the man. He turned round to find Tallulah still frowning at Mona. 'Move aside, you dumb bitch.'
Tallulah did as she was told and let him and Sam past. Mona paused as she drew level with the girl. 'Long story. I'm pretending to be a hooker. Tell the other girls so they know not to give me away.' Tallulah nodded, wide-eyed, and disappeared into the building. Mona followed suit.
The place was busy. There seemed to be two men for every whore. The noise level was high with giggling and raucous laughter. Mona was impressed as she watched Tallulah discreetly whisper in every colleague's ear before moving off to the next one. Sam took hold of Mona's hand and led her into the large, crowded sitting room where a red-haired man, cigar clamped to one side of his mouth, was holding court. Mona guessed this must be Trent.
Sam's friend sidled up to the man. He said something and Trent's eyes leapt across to Sam, glancing at Mona momentarily.
'Well, well. If it isn't Mr Jonson,' Trent said in a loud voice. His audience all turned as one to face the newcomers.
'Hello, Trent,' Sam said, casually. 'Miss me?'
'Come sit down, boy,' Trent continued. He glared at the bespectacled man sitting on the chair to his right. The man's jovial smile vanished in an instant and he moved quickly, as if finding the seat suddenly on fire. Sam, still holding Mona's hand, came across and sat down next to Trent, pulling Mona onto his lap.
'Gonna introduce me to this fine-looking woman?' Trent asked, squeezing Mona's thigh. She forced a smile onto her face.
'I met her in New Moray. I think it's love,' Sam said, preening. The crowd laughed and cat-called. Even Trent erupted into a rather over-the-top laugh.
'Well, my friend,' Trent said finally, wiping away non-existent tears and sitting forward. 'While it's good to see you again, I'm wondering what happened to that impressive-looking ship you were on. Last time you were seen was peering down at Willis and the others from fifty foot in the air! And where is that elusive Sheriff – Oh, I mean former Sheriff.' He shifted his waistcoat to reveal Mona's badge. Sam's grip around Mona tightened a little. She knew what he was trying to convey. Don't cause a scene. Not just now.
Mona had no intention of causing anything. She was too tense. This was the ideal opportunity for Sam to call her bluff, and rat her out.
'They chucked me off the ship and sailed off,' Sam told Trent. 'Soon as they saw Willis, they put two and two together.'
'Are they coming back?' Trent asked.
Sam shrugged. 'I have no idea, and that's the god's honest truth. They told me nothing.'
Trent stared at Sam after that. Not saying a word. Finally, he spoke. 'So they didn't think to use you as some sort of bargaining chip?'
'They knew it wouldn't work. After all, I'm no use to you anymore, am I? My part in this is over. I kept the Sheriff out the way while you guys claimed the town.'
'True,' said Trent, leaning back in his seat. At the same time, he brought out a gun from the holster around his thick waist, and aimed it at Sam. The crowd, who had been chatting to one another in hushed tones, now fell silent. A couple of the whores nearest Trent slipped away.
Mrs Fontaine approached Trent, a scowl on her naturally-stern face. 'There'll be no shooting on my premises. Put that thing away. Now.'
'Shut your mouth, you old hag,' Trent replied, but Mona watched him put the gun back in his holster. 'If I'm not allowed to take your life in this place, Sammy, I'll take your girl instead.' Trent reached over and hauled Mona off Sam's lap and onto his. Immediately the man's hands were everywhere. Mona urgently wanted to throw up but that smile stayed in place, even as he roughly pawed her breasts.
She looked across at Sam. His hands were clenched on the armrests of the chair but his face remained expressionless.
'You don't mind, do you?' Trent said, and laughed.
Mona faced Trent. His breath was rank but she didn't let it affect her. 'I like a real man who knows what to do with a woman,' she told him, coquettishly stroking his neck. Oh, how she would have loved to have wrapped both hands around that neck and squeezed for all she was worth.
Trent seemed delighted at her words. 'Make no mistake, I'm all man.'
Mona simpered and reached across to grab one of the open bottles on the table before them. She leant back against Trent and took a swig of the strong liquor. 'Prove it, honey.'
Trent's demeanour changed in an instant. He barked at everyone to get out. No one needed telling twice. Apart from Sam, that is, who got to his feet with everyone else, but hovered around the doorway.
'I said go!' Trent yelled. Sam took one last look at Mona before leaving.
Now alone, Trent pushed Mona off his lap, almost causing her to fall over. He spread his legs and started unbuckling his belt. All the while he looked her over, lavishly. 'Get on your knees,' he growled.
'Can't a girl have a drink first?' she asked, picking up the only unopened bottle and hiding it behind her back while she took another bottle with her other hand.
'Make it quick,' Trent said, his voice low. 'You can have all the liquor you can handle afterwards.'
Mona smiled then took a long sup from the opened bottle. Holding as much as she could in her mouth, she approached Trent, now busy unbuttoning his trousers, and waited until he looked up.
'Well?' he said.
She took a deep breath and then sprayed the contents of her mouth over his face. He made a strange, strangled noise in surprise which made Mona laugh for real this time.
'What the -' he said, but the rest of his words went unuttered after Mona swung the full bottle against the side of his head, knocking him out.
'Thank god for that,' she said, putting down both bottles – the full one hadn't smashed on impact. She didn't give him another glance as she left the sitting room. There wasn't time to dally about. She needed to find Henry, and fast.
The hallway was occupied by some of the Trent's men and some of the whores. They looked surprised upon seeing Mona leave the room so quickly.
'I work fast,' she explained.
Mrs Fontaine pushed past the others to get to Mona. 'What happened?' she whispered urgently.
'He hit the bottle,' Mona replied. 'Or rather it hit him. Where's Henry?'
'Basement, but you'd better be quick. Come on, I'll take you to him.' In a louder voice, she addressed her girls. 'Come on, ladies. These gentlemen don't look like they're having a great time.'
As the girls took hold of a man each, and led them up the staircase to the first floor, Mrs Fontaine and Mona dashed through the hallway, towards the door that led down to the basement.
In amongst broken beds and bags of rubbish, Mona found Henry. He sat huddled in a space on the floor, big chains wrapped around him. Gas lanterns lined the walls, giving the room a eerie blue glow. Mona jumped the three steps that led down to the floor and raced over to Henry. He looked groggily back at her.
'Jesus,' she said, 'what have they done to you?' She looked briefly at Mrs Fontaine who kept glancing worriedly behind her. 'We're going to get you out of here.' She stroked Henry's cheek – ice-cold to the touch – and took hold of the chains, trying to find some way to free her lover. Henry lethargically pulled at the chains, helping her, but he remained trapped.
'Hurry up!' Mrs Fontaine hissed.
'I'm trying,' Mona replied. 'It won't budge.' She tried again but the chain wouldn't give. She couldn't even find the lock. She looked up at Henry's face and noticed he'd stopped trying the chains and was watching her. He looked forlorn as he pushed her gently away.
'No,' she said firmly, attempting the chains again. He pushed her once more. 'No,' she repeated. 'Mrs Fontaine, is there anything you've got that can break this thing?'
'Oh, I'm not sure,' replied the older woman. They both started scouring the basement. Mona was desperate to find anything that would help.
The creak of the door brought their search to a crashing halt as they both turned to look at the doorway.
Sam's friend Willis stood there, frowning into the gloom. His gaze passed over Mona as he focused on the brothel owner. 'What are you doing?' His tone was slurred slightly. Mona hoped he was drunk enough for her to overcome him, if need be.
'We're just checking on the fella, sweetheart,' said Mrs Fontaine, turning on the charm. 'Nothing for you to worry about. You finished with Clarabelle now?'
'Oh yeah,' said Willis, a dreamy smile on his face. Then he looked at Mona again. 'Though I'm ready to go again if this one's available.' He descended the steps, drawing nearer to Mona and nearer to recognising her. She took out her gun and held it by her side, hidden by her skirts.
'What did you just do?' he asked her, and peered at her face. 'Hang on, don't I know you? Shit, you're her!' His hand went to his thigh but whatever he was looking for wasn't there. 'Oh hell, I left it in that whore's room!'
Mrs Fontaine approached Willis and took his hand in hers. 'Listen, why don't you forget what you saw, huh? Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. How does that sound?'
'Trent wanted to be told if she came back.' He turned to leave. Mona rushed forward, intent to whack hi
m over the head with the gun, but Mrs Fontaine still had a hold of his hand and pushed Mona away. Willis turned round and tried to free his hand, but the madam was strong.
'Let her go and I'll find a girl who'll do those exotic things you asked for earlier.'
'But... You said none of the girls would do... that.'
