The Winner (Romantek)

by Patricia Green

  “Hold your horses. You don’t want a cheat, now, do you?”

  To Miller’s left sat Tarryton. He was a farmer who liked to gossip. They had heard all about his neighbors, his cousins, his wife, and his daughters over the last few days. “Tell us about your gal, Smith?”

  “I ain’t got a gal,” he insisted. He gave Rosemary a nudge. “Get off of me, woman. Can’t you see I’m playing cards here?”

  “I saw you with Miss Audrey Beacon during that bar fight. You’re sweet on her, ain’t you?”

  Rosemary was out to stir up trouble and Owen didn’t like it one bit. He gave Rosemary a little stronger nudge.

  “I ain’t sweet on no one, Rosie. Go get me a drink.” He plucked a coin from his table stakes and handed it to her. “Git!” This time, he pushed her to her feet.

  Although she pouted, Rosemary didn’t say another word, taking the coin toward the bar.

  “So the gal is Miss Beacon?” Tarryton asked. “She’s the one that works for Elmira Brown, right?”

  Owen picked up his cards, neither affirming nor denying Tarryton’s query.

  “She’s quite a looker,” said the cowboy to Owen’s right. “I wouldn’t mind spending an hour with her upstairs.”

  “She ain’t no upstairs gal,” Owen said as calmly as he could. He would have liked to throttle the man instead.

  “They’re all upstairs gals at one time or another. You just got to know how to…finesse them.”

  “And I suppose you know how?” Owen asked facetiously.

  “Stop gossiping like old ladies and play cards,” Phelps told them.

  “I know how,” the cowboy said. “You’ve got to sweet talk them. You have to say a lot of shit that makes them squirm in their drawers. I could show you with Miss Audrey Beacon, if you want a lesson.”

  Owen snorted. That was as likely as a bird hopping to Denver. “No, thanks. I’m fine on my own.”

  Rosemary returned with his whisky and he downed it while she stood next to him, handing her the shot glass when he was done. “Buy me a drink, too, White Star,” she wheedled. “Or I’ll tell what I saw after that fight.”

  A surge of adrenaline shot through Owen. Had she seen him kiss Audrey? Was Rosemary going to expose Audrey to scandal? His protective instincts all sat up and took notice. “You didn’t see anything, woman, because there was nothing to see.”

  “Sure there was,” she said, touching his shoulder. “Buy me a drink, or I’ll tell.”

  “Tell us what?” Tarryton pried, folding his hand decisively.

  Owen had the makings of a straight, if he could draw a seven or a two. He tried to focus on his cards and ignore Rosemary, hoping she might lose interest and go away if he didn’t encourage her. After all, she could say anything and he could deny it. The problem was, if she had seen anything, the men might hear the ring of truth in her words and go to town with the information. It was a gamble.

  “I saw…”

  “You keep your sights on your own self, Rosie.” The low, slow voice came from over Owen’s right shoulder.

  He turned to see the barkeeper. A glance at the bar showed one of the girls pouring drinks in his absence.

  “I was just—”

  “Ain’t no never mind what you were just. You were threatening a paying customer and that ain’t right. Come with me.”

  “Aw, Mitch, I was just fooling.”

  The barkeep took her by the arm and pulled her up off Owen’s lap and toward the stairs. Although Rosemary tried to release her arm, she went along, protesting the whole way.

  * * *

  The stairs were worn smooth from so many feet trudging up and down. Rosemary wondered how many of those feet had been women like her going toward a punishment. She struggled against Mitch’s grip, but it was a half-effort. Where would she go if she didn’t have this job? She needed to be at Joe’s Saloon.

  Once upstairs, Mitch pulled her into a room. She had been there before. It was a rental room, waiting for a customer to rent it for a short time. It was the cheapest lodging in town, and the room reflected that fact. It was spartanly furnished. The iron bedstead was bent in a few places. The pegs on the wall were spaced as though some were missing. There was a small table and a single, hard wooden chair. Even the comforter was threadbare. However, it would get rented. If not today, then perhaps by tomorrow.

  After shutting the door behind them firmly, Mitch released her arm and moved to sit in the chair. “You been through this before, Rosie, you know what to do.”

  “Please, Mitch. I ain’t done anything wrong.”

  “You were blackmailing a customer. That’s mighty wrong in my book. Now,” he said, patting his lap, “Pull your drawers down and get your ass over here.”

  Rosemary pouted, but did as ordered. Slowly. She could see Mitch’s growing impatience, but she couldn’t help tarrying. The spanking she’d had before were awful. She had been sore for a full day. Her time satisfying customers, even sitting on their laps in the main room, became painful and those that knew what had happened to her, laughed at her.

  Unfortunately, it was a part she had to play, or take herself elsewhere. There was nowhere else for a woman of her skills to go in Pollyville.

  Finally, her drawers were down, sagging at her ankles. She hobbled over to Mitch and he pulled her onto his lap, throwing a leg over hers to keep her in place. Rosemary hung over the other side of his lap, her hands touching the floor. Mitch pushed her skirts, necessarily short, up over her behind and sat in contemplation for a moment.

  It was too short a moment, as far as Rosemary was concerned. He made one small smack on her left cheek—Mitch was left-handed—getting his aim straight, but that was immediately followed by several hard, strong slaps on that cheek. Rosemary gasped. The pain was nasty, stinging her beleaguered flesh smartly, before Mitch moved his strikes to her right cheek. Those, too, were stingers. The spanking continued, left cheek, right cheek, and right in the middle of both. Those hurt the worst, and soon enough, Rosemary was crying out with each spank. Once she started wailing, Mitch began his lecture.

  “You are going to mind your place, Rosie.” He spanked down her thighs.

  “Y-yes, sir!”

  “You ain’t going to threaten customers no more.”

  “No, sir!”

  He was back to the left cheek again, and the spanks were fast and furious, burning her bottom and probably causing bruises. “I don’t ever want to catch you spying on customers.”

  “I won’t!” It was a lie, but she would do anything she could to cease this awful spanking. He was striking the place where her bottom cheeks and thighs made a cross. It was excruciating, and tears were running down her cheeks. Rosemary was sobbing loudly.

  “You remember this lesson, Rosemary, or we’ll have us another trip up here, followed by you finding your way out of the saloon permanently. I’ve got no patience for errant whores.”

  “Yes, sir! Oh, please stop! I’ll die!”

  He chuckled, but didn’t stop spanking. “You ain’t going to die from a spanking.”

  Rosemary felt like she would. She’d perish if he didn’t quit soon. She would do it because she wanted this torture to stop.

  It did stop. With one resounding slap in the middle of her ass, it was over. She lay across his lap for a moment, before he pushed her off on the floor. “Get back to work.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” Painfully, she rose and pulled up her scratchy cotton unmentionables. The warmth they brought made the fire on her bottom that much worse, and she cringed as she tied the tape that held them on.

  Mitch speared her with a brown, relentless stare. “Let this be a lesson to you.”

  It would be a lesson. The lesson was that she’d have to be stealthier and cleverer. This bar, and Mitch, was no place to be careless.

  * * *

  Owen addressed the dealer and put his king face down on the table. “One.”

  “That girl is pure trouble,” Miller said as they watched Rosemary painfully, slow
ly, wobble down the staircase and back into the main room. She didn’t even look Owen’s way. Just as well.

  Miller pushed a card toward Owen.

  “You got that right,” Owen agreed.

  Tarryton spoke up. “I’d still like to hear about Miss Audrey Beacon, White Star.”

  Owen allowed himself a moment of memory before responded coolly. “I’ll just bet you would, Tarryton. I’ll bet you would.” If he sounded a little smug, well, he was only human. But even pleasure over finding Audrey here in his dream was not going to give him bragging rights. Gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell, right?

  * * *

  Most of the boarders had gone to bed and Audrey had a moment to decompress in the parlor where a nice fire burned in the fireplace and tidy doilies were colorful treasures beneath the gas lamps. She had cleaned this room herself earlier in the day, and was proud of her handiwork. It made her feel useful and appreciated to see Mrs. Brown’s approving smiles.

  The doors were open and one of the boarders walked in. It was Mr. Rimley. He was a traveling salesman who never seemed to sell anything. He paid his rent on time, according to Mrs. Brown, and that was good enough for her. It was good enough for Audrey, too, since he was barely on her radar.

  “Miss Beacon,” he said, coming into the room to stand near the fire a few feet from where Audrey stood.

  “Mr. Rimley, how do you do?”

  “I’m well, thank you. Supper was exceptional. I’m sure you were responsible.” He wore his dark hair parted in the middle and slicked down with Makassar. Thick brown sideburns mutton chopped along his cheeks and jaw. He was a perfect example of a thoroughly antebellum male. All of that was intriguing, and he had smiling hazel eyes that had escaped Audrey’s notice before. She smiled back demurely.

  “I must be honest with you. I had no hand in tonight’s supper. Mrs. Brown is more than capable of serving the finest food imaginable.”

  “Pish tosh. I’m sure you had something to do with it. And, even if you didn’t, your gracious service at table shows your refinement.”

  Heat stained Audrey’s cheeks. “Thank you.” She gave Rimley a more thorough look from beneath her lashes. He was attractive, though not in a rugged way. She couldn’t imagine him wrestling with a cow or hoisting bales of hay. He was fairly average in height and weight, with an appealing face and a dimple in his chin. He was polite and solicitous. Audrey entertained the idea that maybe White Star was not the man she was destined to have the affair with. Could it be this man? Was he supposed to be charming, erudite and sweep her off her feet with money and wit? Maybe… all though bad boy White Star was more appealing. Still, she ought to give Romantek a chance to give her what she wanted subconsciously.

  The pause in the conversation drew out, but Rimley spoke up finally.

  “You look lovely tonight, Miss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rimley.”

  “Call me Marcus, please.”

  “That’s not…seemly on such a short acquaintance, sir.” Audrey was terribly proud of her nineteenth century parlance, but she tried not to clap her hands.

  “Oh, but I insist. And surely we shall get to know each other better.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Say the name. I want to hear it tripping off your sweet tongue.”

  Wow. That was kind of fresh, she thought. Tongues and all of that. It didn’t seem very polite given the mores of the time. “You presume too much, Mr. Rimley.”

  He sighed. “Perhaps. But I beg you to indulge me on this one harmless thing.”

  Well, really, in her own time she wouldn’t think twice. So be it here. “Very well, Marcus. And you may call me Audrey.”

  He smiled brightly. His teeth were a little crooked but not in a snaggle-toothed way. “My dear Audrey, I am honored.” Marcus gestured to the settee. “Shall we sit for a moment?”

  There was no harm in it, and if he was the one, she had better take advantage before the dream ended. Since they didn’t seem to be the kind of couple who would madly rip each other’s clothes off and wind up in a heap of passion on the floor—White Star popped into her mind, but she pushed him as far into a corner as he could go—conversation was a necessary first step.

  “Yes, Marcus. We may sit.” Carefully arranging her skirts, Audrey perched on the settee. Marcus sat at her side, but there was a respectable space between them. The fire crackled and smelled like pine pitch. Audrey had smelled it once at an arboretum. It was fresh and pungent.

  “So, Audrey, please tell me about yourself?”

  “There isn’t much to tell.”

  “You’re shy with me. Perhaps I pry too deeply? A less intimate setting might be in order. Would you consider joining me on a picnic tomorrow?”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus, but I can’t. Mrs. Brown needs me here.”

  He frowned slightly and moved a few inches closer to her. “I need you, too, Audrey,” he said softly.

  The way he said it was gentle and romantic. A little boring when Audrey considered that she really wanted lust, fire and passion for her affair, but she hadn’t been treated particularly solicitously by her previous boyfriend. Maybe subconsciously, she wanted to be wooed. Marcus took her hand in both of his and squeezed. Audrey didn’t withdraw.

  “I’m flattered, Marcus. You do me an honor requesting my company.”

  “I would request so much more of you, my dear. But that will have to wait for another time, when we know each other better.” He paused. “Much better.”

  Now they were getting somewhere! “Is that what you want? To get to know me better?”

  “How can you ask? Have I not made it plain? Yes, Audrey, you are my Circe, my Helen, my Aphrodite, every enchanting goddess in my pantheon!”

  It was a trifle overwhelming, especially since she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Thank you,” was all she could manage.

  “We’ll picnic tomorrow, my Dear. I shall make it right with Mrs. Brown.”

  Maybe the passion was to be outdoors. It had been something of a fantasy for Audrey to make love under a tree in a green grassy field. She had once seen a picture of lovers holding hands in a bucolic setting like that and it had captured her imagination deeply.

  “Very well. If you can convince Mrs. Brown.”

  He stood and pulled her up with him by her hand. “You make me a very happy man, my Dear. Very happy.”

  If that was going to be the result of their conversation, Audrey wanted to hurry up to bed and close her eyes so the new day could begin. Although Marcus wasn’t like White Star at all, Mrs. Brown clearly felt the other man was off limits. It would be hard to finagle a way to spend time with him. That might be part of the challenge of the game, but it was so hard to tell what she was supposed to do. The game was personalized to Audrey in every detail. She would have to trust her instincts and go with the flow.

  “I’m pleased, Marcus. Now I must say good night. The day starts early for me.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her four knuckles. “Until tomorrow, Audrey. I shall count the minutes and dream of you.”

  Flustered, Audrey smiled, withdrew her hand and hurried out of the parlor, closing the doors behind her. She paused in the foyer. Was tomorrow going to be the big day? Did she want that with Marcus? Was Marcus literally the man of her dreams?

  Chapter 4

  Although Owen was up until nearly dawn playing cards, eventually the other gamblers made their ways home, leaving him to find his bed in his room over the saloon. It was just as well. The walls were thin and he often heard the girls plying their trade in adjacent rooms. It had been cheap lodging and since he only had a twenty-dollar gold coin to start out with, he needed cheap. The fact that it wasn’t particularly respectable didn’t bother him. Or it hadn’t until he met Audrey and Mrs. Brown. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been persona non grata, because of his heritage or his profession, but it must have happened sometime in his life. It didn’t matter much, he was still struggling to find a way to meet wi
th Audrey again and woo her.

  He should have just rolled her in the hay while he had the chance—she was only a dream, after all, no strings attached as there would be when he finally met the real Audrey sometime after he awoke—but he didn’t want a quick fuck from her. Owen wasn’t sure what he wanted, exactly, but it was more than sex. He liked her spunk and industriousness. Working at the boardinghouse couldn’t have been an easy chore, but she seemed to take it cheerfully. What kind of person liked hard work like that? Besides himself, of course.

  Lying on his bed, watching the sky lighten the dirty windows in his room, he wracked his brain to think of a way to be with Audrey again. Nothing came to mind. Nothing that was above-board, that is. He could kidnap her out of her room at Mrs. Brown’s, but that wasn’t his style. She might protest, and then he would have ruined his chances.

  He changed his clothes and went down to the saloon for breakfast. Few people were about in the tavern, and the patrons who were seemed hung over and uncommunicative except with grunts and weary glances. Owen wasn’t in the mood for chitchat anyway. He finally decided to take a chance and go back to Mrs. Brown’s boarding house. If he waited outside, maybe he could corral Audrey for a few minutes, set up an assignation.

  As he was putting down his empty coffee cup, a young man entered Joe’s Saloon. He was maybe twenty, with a swagger and longish, dirty brown hair. Squinting from the dim light, he looked around carefully. When he spotted Owen, he paused.

  “White Star Smith?” he called from across the room.

  “Who’s asking?”

  The boy responded rather loudly. “I’m Johnny Sacco! I come to call you out.”

  White Star arched a dark eyebrow. This was different. “What for, kid?”

  The question made the young man sputter a bit. “Why…for being a no-account cheater and killer of innocents.”

  “Those’re tall charges. You got any proof?”

  “Proof? I don’t need any proof except the dead man you left in Council Bluffs.”