by Jenna Brandt
Tilting towards Amelie, he whispered only loud enough for her to hear, “This isn’t over. It’s going to be continued another time.”
A shudder spilled down Amelie’s back at the thought. She wished she had not allowed Mr. Buckley to intimidate her into working as a server. If she had just stayed away from the public areas of the saloon, none of this would have happened.
Pushing past the women, Billy stumbled out of the kitchen. Once they were alone, Lulu turned to Amelie and asked, “Are you alright?”
Nodding, she answered, “I should be asking you the same. Thank you for stepping in and stopping him.”
“You know, you didn’t have to take what he was doing, and you definitely didn’t have to pretend he didn’t do anything wrong. I know how Billy can get.”
“There seems to be a history between the two of you.”
“We were involved in the past, but I rapidly found out he’s intolerable when he’s drunk. I ended whatever was going on between us a few months ago; however, I needed to stay friendly with him because he frequents The Trail’s End regularly.”
“Why have you been so nice to me while I’ve worked here? You don’t owe me anything but you’ve continually looked out for me.”
“You don’t know, do you?”
Amelie tilted her head to the side with a puzzled expression on her face. She waited for Lulu to continue.
“A year ago, when I first came to West Linn, I had left a bad situation in New Orleans. I barely had any money and I didn’t know what to do. I came into the bakery while your mother was working the counter. She was kind to me, told me of a few places that might be hiring, and offered to put in a good word for me at the boarding house. The entire year, up until she passed away, she would check in on me to make sure I was doing alright. She worried about me working at The Trail’s End. Even though I took the job here, she never treated me poorly because of it.”
Feeling her eyes moisten from tears, Amelie used the edge of her apron to dab away the drops. “I had no idea my mother did that for you.”
“Her kindness opened my eyes and helped me see there were still good people out there. She even invited me to church a couple of times.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
Lulu’s eyes shot to the floor. “I worried how everyone would treat me. I have been looked down on for so long by most people, I didn’t want to go into a place where people were sure to behave the same.”
“Oh, Lulu, you mustn’t think in such a way. I can vouch for the church here in West Linn. Everyone would welcome you and be glad you came. As a matter of fact, if you would like to come this Sunday, I would be glad to sit with you.”
“Thank you for the offer, Amelie, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to go just yet. Let me think about it.”
“Of course, and I really do hope you decide to come.”
“Well, I better get back to the drudgery,” Lulu said, as she picked up her tray from the counter with several plates on it. “Buckley is going to be cross if he sees me back here not working.”
After finishing adding the final ingredients into the pot on the stove, Amelie grabbed her own tray, and placed several bowls of stew on it. She made her way back out to the main room.
When he made the decision to leave The Trail’s End, Pierre did so reluctantly. Amelie had no business being in such a place working around those men; however, he was tired of fighting her on the matter.
As he entered the lobby of the inn, the front desk clerk gestured him over. “Good evening, Mr. Girald. I have a message for you which came by telegraph while you were away.”
Handing over the folded paper, the man gave Pierre a smile. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a few coins to give to the clerk. “Thank you,” Pierre said.
“Certainly, Mr. Girald.”
As Pierre made his way to his room, he unfolded the paper and read the contents.
My Dear Friend Pierre,
I want to thank you for the warning you sent. Unfortunately, it arrived after a final confrontation with the duke already occurred. You should know, he confessed to killing Mulchere. Everything has been resolved. We are safe and you no longer need to worry about us.
With deepest regards,
Margaret
Pierre read the contents three times and let the information penetrate. All these years, he had been consumed with keeping Margaret safe. It was his nature to want to protect the people he loved. It was one of the reasons he had searched for her, to make sure she was not in danger. Now, she no longer needed that from him. He thought he would feel useless with the purpose removed, but surprisingly, he felt a measure of liberation. Pierre had wondered what it would take for him to finally be able to let go of Margaret, and this was it.
William found Pierre sitting in the lobby of the inn, still holding the piece of paper.
William asked, “What are you doing back at the inn already, Pierre? You are usually still down at The Trail’s End, looking after Miss Leclaire.”
“When she saw me tonight, she kicked me out,” Pierre said, discouraged.
“I find it surprising you were willing to give up that easily. You have never been the type to do so before.” With a shrug, he finished, “Perhaps, you never will get over Margaret.”
Balking at the idea, Pierre stated, “You are mistaken. I still care a great deal for Amelie.”
“Why are you still here talking to me then, and not there making her understand that?”
It was a worthy question. Pierre knew now, after he received the letter from Margaret, any lingering feelings he had for her were removed. He was finally finished pining for a woman with whom he had no future. It was time to go and make the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with aware of that fact.
Chapter 17
Hours ticked by and Amelie’s routine of serving and cooking continued without interruption. Unfortunately, as the night got later, the crowd became coarser. The regulars who came to eat and have a couple of drinks were leaving. The men who came with the intent to get inebriated and make noise were taking over.
As Amelie entered the room for what seemed like the hundredth time, the jesting and bellowing of the men crested to an almost unbearable amount. Amelie’s head was throbbing from all the commotion. She could barely maintain the forced smile splashed across her face.
Lord, I need your strength. I don’t know how I can keep going without it.
Hearing a piercing loud holler shoot across the room, Amelie looked over to see from whom it came. A scowl momentarily appeared on Amelie’s face as she noticed Billy had returned to the saloon. He was sitting at one of the back tables with several other men; she assumed they were his associates, and they were playing poker while swigging beers.
Inhaling sharply, Amelie walked over to the table next to them to deliver a couple of late orders of food. She had wished she could have shut down the kitchen early. A couple of mill workers had shown up late and requested dinner, causing her to have to continue serving longer than normal.
She felt a hand slap her on the backside and Billy shout, “There you are, Amelie. We wondered where you had gotten off to.”
Did this man comprehend boundaries? Seething with irritation at his despicable behavior, she turned around and replied tartly, “You should keep your hands to yourself, sir.”
“Don’t be so prudish, Amelie, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to get your attention. We need you to fetch us a couple more beers.”
Wanting to prevent any more contact with him, Amelie stated, “I’ll get Lulu to help you.”
But before she could get away, she felt his hand dart out and grab her by the wrist. “I don’t want Lulu to serve me. I want you to take care of me.” Amelie pulled against his grip, trying to get free. “Amelie, Amelie, when are you going to quit fighting what’s going on between us and just give in to me?”
Her eyes tapered in anger as she spat out, “I think I made myself quite clear earlier when I told you
I was disinterested in your advancements.”
“I think it’s unfair you haven’t given me a fair shake. If you get to know me,” he said, wagging his eyebrows up and down, “I know you’ll change your mind.”
Done with his games, Amelie tugged as hard as she could and yanked free. “I will never change my mind on the matter, and nothing you do will sway me.”
All of the remaining men in the establishment began to tease and poke fun at Billy. One of his associates elbowed Billy in the ribs, saying, “You can’t even get this serving wench to bed you, Billy. Pretty pathetic.”
Jumping up out of his seat, he shouted back at the other man, “She’s a prudish tart who thinks too highly of herself.” Glaring at Amelie, he added, “You’re going to regret this, you harpy.”
Amelie’s blood ran cold as she saw the look of rage fill his eyes and watched as his hand raised to hit her. Before he could land the blow, Mr. Buckley appeared from the side, saying, “I would rethink raising your hand to one of my girls.”
Swiftly, Billy’s hand dropped to his side. He seemed to sober up instantaneously. “She was asking for it, Mr. Buckley, I swear it.”
“This isn’t your first warning to watch your behavior in my place. I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“You’re throwing me out over this harlot?”
“If you don’t leave calmly, Mr. Jones, this will become a permanent removal.”
The threat worked, and with his head hanging low, hands in his pockets, he shuffled off towards the saloon doors.
Amelie gave a grateful smile to her boss and said, “Thank you, Mr. Buckley.”
“I protect my girls around here; everyone knows that,” he said, as he looked around the room at the remaining men with a stern stare.
All the men nodded and several said, “He sure does.”
“Can you come with me, Miss Leclaire?”
Nodding, she followed after Mr. Buckley until they reached his office in the back. Was he going to fire her over this? He had said Billy had caused problems like this before, but he was a paying regular.
“I’m sorry about the incident which just happened, Mr. Buckley.”
“I’m sure you are, Miss Leclaire, but I think you need to realize, although he was wrong for the way he behaved, you need to grow a thicker skin if you are going to continue working here. Maybe learn a little something from Lulu and how she handles the men.”
“But it shouldn’t be a problem going forward, Mr. Buckley, since I will be going back to only cooking starting tomorrow.”
“As it turns out, the patrons have taken a liking to you, and I have decided not to hire another server to replace Becky.”
“But that’s not what we agreed to and it’s too difficult to switch between cooking and serving on a regular basis.”
“Well, you’d better figure it out or find yourself another job somewhere else, because going forward, this is the new arrangement.”
She knew it would be no use to argue with him. Once her boss made up his mind, it was the end of the conversation.
“Go finish cleaning up the kitchen before closing and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Pulling out his pocket watch, Pierre looked down to check the time. Half past eleven, which meant the saloon had already closed and Amelie would be exiting to go home soon. He really wished he could convince her to stop working at The Trail’s End. Every time she stepped foot in the establishment, worry took ahold of Pierre. He had heard stories about the saloons of the American West and the ruffians which frequented them, but this place truly served the worst type of men. He hated the idea of Amelie spending most of her days and nights in such a place.
As he watched for Amelie from across the street, he noticed there were a couple of men still hanging around on the edges of the saloon. They did not seem to have a reason to be there and he wondered why they were not leaving. Pierre was debating whether he should confront the hooligans outside the saloon, when he saw Amelie come out through the front doors.
Amelie was alone and distracted, busy putting on her shawl and fiddling with her clutch, when one of the men stepped towards her and said, “Ah, there you are, Amelie. I was wondering when you would be done working.”
Her eyes lurched up and grew round with fear, as she stuttered in question, “Wh-what are you doing out here?”
“Why, waiting for you of course.”
“And why would you think it would be appropriate?”
Sighing with irritation, he stated, “There you go again, worrying about what’s ‘appropriate.’ You should know by now I don’t give two figs about what’s proper.”
She tried to sidestep past him, saying, “I need to be getting home, Mr. Jones. Good evening.” But two more men stepped from the shadows and surrounded Amelie on both sides.
“No, I don’t think you will be going anywhere just now. We haven’t finished, yet.”
As he suspected, these men were up to no good, and what was worse, their ill-intent was directed towards the woman he cared for deeply. Pierre sprinted across the street, just as the first man reached out to grab ahold of Amelie.
“Get your hands off of her,” Pierre shouted at the lecher.
“Ah, it’s the French fellow,” he said as he turned, continuing to hold Amelie tightly against him. Glaring at Pierre, he stated, “I should have guessed you would have been out here skulking around waiting for Amelie. You need to mind your own business and leave.”
“On the contrary, I am right where I need to be.” Looking down at the other man’s hands on Amelie, he added, “And I already told you once to take your hands off of Miss Leclaire.”
“I don’t think I have to do anything you say. There are three of us and only one of you.
“You overestimate your odds and you would be wise to depart while you still have both your hands.”
The other man appeared to be overly intoxicated. He apparently did not understand Pierre’s words were not a threat but a promise. He was not budging. Instead of backing down, he pulled out a knife from his pocket and held it to Amelie’s side.
“If you value her life, I would suggest you let us be.”
With one quick motion, Pierre pulled his sword from its sheath at his waist and raised it up, ready to strike.
“A sword? Seriously, who carries a sword in the Oregon Territory? Have you never heard of a pistol? You really are out of your depth, you foreign dolt.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Pierre saw the other two men reaching for guns in their holsters. Like a whirlwind, Pierre dashed across the distance to the first fellow. He thrust his sword towards his arm, piercing the flesh and causing him to stop drawing his weapon. Reflexively, the man grabbed the wound as he cried out in pain.
While he was distracted, Pierre spun over to the third man, slashing at him and knocking loose the pistol from his hands before he could take a shot. When the man lunged for his gun on the ground, Pierre struck again, this time piercing his upper shoulder. The man starting rolling around on the ground, yelling in agony.
The first man Pierre struck scanned from his associate on the ground to the man holding Amelie, wavered for a moment, and fled.
Readjusting his sword in his hand and preparing to strike, Pierre glared at the man who was stupid enough to still be holding a knife to Amelie’s side.
“Apparently, you are an expert with that sword, but no matter how good you are, you will never be able to stop me from stabbing her first.”
“But I can,” Pierre heard a female voice say from the shadows.
A startled look crossed the other man’s face just as a loud thump sounded in the street, followed by the man crumbling to the ground.
From out of the darkness, Lulu stepped forward with a large rock in her hands. Putting her arms around Amelie, she asked, “Are you alright, sweetie?”
“Yes, thanks to you and Pierre.”
Lulu looked over and grinned at Pierre. “You’re mighty handy with that sword, aren’t you?”
>
“I suppose all those years of training with it at boarding school finally found a purpose.”
Both men were groaning on the ground as Lulu shook her head with disgust. “Fools. Wait until Buckley hears about this.” Looking from the men to the saloon, she continued, “I should go back inside and tell him what happened before they get a chance to take off.”
“Should we not involve the sheriff?”
“The sheriff doesn’t get involved with these types of matters. He lets us take care of our own around here. These boys are going to be ran out of town by morning, with a few good lashings as a reminder to never step foot in West Linn again.”
Pierre should be appalled to hear how they handled justice in the American frontier, but after traveling the area over the past couple of months, nothing surprised him anymore.
“Can you take her home?”
Nodding, Pierre gently placed his hand under Amelie’s arm. He could feel her shaking under his touch. Swiftly, he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, as she looked up at him with the most vulnerable expression. It was all Pierre could do to keep from gathering her up into his arms. He knew she was still dazed from all which occurred and he did not want to make it worse.
“Let me get you home. You are ice cold and look like you might faint at any moment.”
Amelie nodded and allowed Pierre to walk her home.
As they approached her house, the comprehension of what just happened finally permeated Amelie’s shock. If Pierre had not been there tonight, those men would have… she couldn’t even finish the thought.
“What are you thinking about, Amelie?”
“I’m thinking about how unfair it is the only jobs available to most women put them in such jeopardy. Mr. Buckley pretends to protect the women who work for him, but he only acts in their defense when it’s too late. He turns a blind eye to the way the men in that place behave, and what’s worse, he does some mistreatment of his own.”
