by Tony Masero
‘Forgive me, ma’am.’
He was there beside her, sweeping off his hat gallantly and speaking softly. ‘I could not help but notice your distress. Is there something I may do to help?’
‘Why no,’ Belle croaked. ‘A lack of air is all. I shall be alright shortly but thank you for your concern.’
She found she was affecting a higher tone of speech to match his and not the low Tennessee drawl of her upbringing. It was an affectation but one she was developing as time went by.
‘Permit me to introduce myself,’ he said, with a slight bow. ‘I am Aloysius Barrett Browning, at your service.’
‘Belle Slaughter,’ she said with a bob of her head.
‘Well, Miss Slaughter, if you are quite recovered perhaps you will allow me to escort you back inside?’
He offered her his arm and with tentative fingers she took it. At the touch, a thrill ran through her. It was a trickle of arcane electricity that caused a shiver to run up her spine.
‘Most kind,’ she managed, although the words were thick in her throat. The nearness of him was a presence that imposed itself on her, she felt the solidity of his form beneath her touch and the smart cut of his outline in the dark was firm and reassuring.
‘Dear lady,’ he said, as he ushered her through the Cigar Apartment and held the swing doors open. ‘If you will honor me so, I trust we shall be friends?’
It was an easy charm he possessed and as a past master at seduction he played the game well. The young girl, gauche and inexperienced in such matters was a simple conquest for such a man.
‘I…. I do hope so,’ she stuttered.
‘Then you shall call me Aloysius and I you Belle. There will that be suitable?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she managed.
‘Very well, Belle. You must excuse me now for I see my table is ready and there are sheep willing to be fleeced.’
He doffed his hat and left her standing quite bemused, with a lost gaze of adoration as she watched him depart across the room. She did not even realize that a thief had broken in and taken her virgin heart with him as he left.
‘Best watch that one,’ said a voice at her elbow that broke through her mellow daze.
‘What? What did you say?’ She swung around to see Kirby Langstrom leaning against the doorpost.
‘Him,’ said Kirby, jerking his chin after the gambler. ‘That one’s got deviant written all over him.’
Belle frowned angrily. ‘The devil you say! That is one fine gentleman and I’ll not hear a word against him.’
‘Have it your own way,’ shrugged Kirby.
‘Just because you pulled me from under the gunfire in the street, don’t think it gives you premise to insult my friends,’ Belle said thunderously.
‘Friends! Why you barely met the ass two minutes ago.’
‘Stop it, Mister Langstrom! Stop it this instant.’
With that Belle turned on her heel and strode off haughtily back to the bar.
‘A well-named pretty,’ sighed Kirby. ‘Because never was such a lamb so easy led to slaughter,’ so saying he shook his head sorrowfully.
Chapter Four
Poor Belle.
Their first kiss was a stolen one in the barrel cellar below the bar whilst she did inventory. It was a chill place kept so for the beer held in casks there. Despite such gloomy surroundings that first soft pressure of his lips on hers swept Belle dreamily along. It was a magical moment for her, the consummation of all her girlish notions since first sight of Aloysius Barrett Browning three weeks before.
‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘I could not hold back.’
She leaned against him, ‘Oh, no. It is a joy, Aloysius.’
‘But we must not be found here alone together,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It will bring you into disrepute.’
‘I don’t care,’ she breathed as her heart thudded in her chest. ‘I do not care one jot.’
‘Then you will not think unkindly of me?’
‘Never,’ she answered forcefully.
‘Perhaps we may meet later?’ he asked. ‘Here,’ he thrust a fold of paper in her hand. ‘I have scribbled a few lines that you inspire. Pray read them at your leisure and do not think ill of me for such poor words.’
She clutched the fold to her breast and looked up at him soulfully, saying nothing. She was speechless, all her dreams were coming true, he loved her as she loved him and the knowledge filled her with delight.
‘Until later,’ he said, his finger trailing a soft line down her cheek.
When he was gone, Belle lifted the candle sitting on a nearby barrel lid and held it up to read his note. It was a poem that she devoured frantically.
‘How do I love you?’ he wrote. ‘Let me add the ways. I love you with every measurement my soul can reach. Freely, purely and with passion put to use. I shall love you even after death….’
Being unlearned in such things she did not know that Aloysius had plumbed the pages of the poetry booklet produced by his so-called relative, for he was in actuality in no way connected to the poetess except by chance of name alone, and he had plagiarized her words for his own purpose. With a subtle change of line here and there he once again hooked deep into Belle’s heart and confirmed his conquest over her.
She wept as she read his lines, joyful tears trickling down her young cheek in the candlelight whilst her breast swelled at the prospect of holding him close.
Joe Bellows had not been inactive meantime; he had managed to form a town council of sorts. It was a totally illegitimate affair founded without any recourse to democratic vote but neither the town’s population nor the mining community cared enough or was willing to raise complaint. At the Council’s head sat Bee Bridges one of his co-conspirators and owner of The Silver Dollar saloon. Bee was nominally made mayor of Variable Breaks and the rest of his unlikely committee was garnered from a band of drunks and unsavory types that normally populated his bar.
Their first act was to issue ordnance of complaint against The-Get-Up-and-Go. It must be said that it was based on some elements of good value. The privies or ‘sinks’ as they were known, were situated in an alley out back of the saloon. And as must be obviously realized, with the vast consumption of beer and liquor that went on, there has to be a common place for customer evacuation.
These ‘sinks’ were a row of simple wooden privies that were often unattended and therefore overflowed into the alleyway outside causing untold stink and melting the ground about with their seepage, turning it into a muddy swamp of unpleasant sludge. Those that could not abide entry in such disgusting privies merely relieved themselves in the open alleyway and only added to the awful miasma of the place.
At the same time that Mayor Bee signed off the order for clearing and maintenance of this area, Joe also persuaded him that a growing town needed some form of taxation for the civic amenities and urban development. Such amenities were non-existent but nonetheless a list was drawn up under Joe’s devious hand to bring even more pressure on Tim Leatherbetter.
It was decided that trading properties over three hundred and sixty foot square in ground area should pay a tax, those under should pay none. Seeing as how all the other saloons owned by Joe’s cronies covered no more than three hundred square foot of ground they were all exempt. It was blatantly unjust but this did not deter Joe from bringing the ruling to pass.
As shall be guessed by those of a cynical frame of mind it was to be expected that The-Get-Up-and-Go’s ground-cover measurements came close in on exactly three hundred and sixty five square feet.
Tim fretted over these constant attempts to annoy him and they succeeded in troubling him as if they were the irritation of so many bothersome flies. They ate at his wellbeing and annoyed him no end. He understood full well what Joe was up to and it was only the restraining hand of his cautious mother that held him back from some precipitous action. Which was a lucky thing really, as Joe had found amongst the gun hands prevalent in the town one Jesse Lee Beidermann.
<
br /> Jesse Lee was a young gunman rapidly earning a name for himself as a callous killer. He was a rangy, dark haired fellow with a lean and drawn face and ice-blue eyes as cold as any polar sky. He favored a trilby-style hat with the brim pulled low in front from under which he looked out with an air full of menace. A heartless soul there is no doubt, the cause of which might well be attributed to his early upbringing as an orphan in the city of New York.
A prostitute’s son, his unwanted baby body had been left on the steps of the orphanage with a simple note penning his name pinned to the threadbare blanket. The orphanage proved to be a pit of iniquity and the children found there were often farmed out by the guardians for a fee to those wealthy members of the city’s society with a predilection for such things of a low and abhorrent sexual nature.
No child should enter life under such conditions or suffer guardian example as this, and it may be imagined that Jesse Lee spent his adult life in an attempt to seek recompense for all the abominations he suffered as an infant. Or at the very least to seek a rise above the lowering of self-esteem he felt after such impositions.
Be that as it may in way of excuse for his actions, it still remained that Jesse Lee thought no more of taking life than one might of wiping one’s nose. He was slick with a gun or knife and could execute his skills at the drop of a hat or the word of whomsoever was paying him at the time.
The town council bestowed on Jesse Lee the title of Peace Officer and issued him with a tin star with the power to enforce all of the council’s ordinances and by-laws, which he fully intended to do.
Belle’s seduction was completed later in Aloysius’ bedroom chamber at his hotel apartment. She threw herself into the act willingly, undressing without embarrassment in the darkened room. It was the moment she had long awaited and her beau was at last about to commit himself to her forever in this overture at the altar of dedication.
In a fever of excitement and anticipation she flung herself at him and covered him with urgent kisses. Calmly, Aloysius held her off. He was practiced in such matters and it was under his slow tutelage that Belle learnt the first stages in arousal. With adept hands he played her wonderful body, delving and seeking points of erogenous contact that brought gasps of splendor and surprise to her lips.
Only when she had reached a yearning pitch of anticipation did he at last enter to take her maidenhead. Once past that brief moment of discomfort only then did she learn the full pleasures to be gained from the climb to total physical ecstasy. She found herself whirling, adrift on a spinning cloud of wonder, which left her gasping, ‘I never knew, I never knew.’
Her only other previous sexual experiences had been the clumsy attempts by her half-wit brother as he had attempted to cover her whilst in her narrow Appalachian cot one night, and which she had fought off with ease by a well placed knee in his erect member.
But in this moment, whilst spread across the large comfortable bed with this splendid figure of a man, a man she loved from the depths of her being it was an unsurpassable experience. She wanted it to go on forever. As it happened, it went on for the rest of the night and during its span Aloysius introduced her to all aspects of the courtesan’s life. She took to each with adroit acceptance, becoming his willing slave in all he commanded as she surrendered to him in the name of love.
She awoke early next morning, too excited to sleep longer and sat up in the bed, looking across at his still sleeping form lined by the cold dawn light coming through the window. She shuddered at the morning chill but compressed her lips in happy satisfaction at the sight of his outline under the sheet and a single joyous tear left her eye. He was hers, completely and utterly hers.
He was not of course, but Belle was yet to discover this sad fact. For such a man as Aloysius it was a momentary conquest, like a winning hand at the table and there were always more successes to be found there. His true intention was, as he had agreed with Joe Bellows, to draw Belle away from The-Get-Up-and-Go. Her radiant beauty, there was no doubt, was one of the main attractions that the saloon held for customers. With her gone, it would be just one more step to undermining the place.
In her innocence Belle held no consideration of this as she dressed herself, and with a blown kiss she left her sleeping partner. Her contentment was complete, now she was a fulfilled woman. A full-grown woman who had experienced the joys of physical communion with a man. It was a rite of passage for her and Belle stepped from the bedroom on light feet and danced her way back through deserted streets to The-Get-Up-and-Go.
Not quite deserted streets though. For from a bench on the shadowed boardwalk a figure lying under a poncho with the hat pulled low watched her go and once again Kirby Langstrom shook his head in dismay.
‘Going to end in tears,’ he muttered dolefully before pulling his hat brim down again.
So started a week of undeniable bliss for Belle. Each day she waited only for the coming of night when she could return again to her lover. Her demands were total and she was greedy for the pleasures that Aloysius could bring her. The blatant manner in which Belle rushed to his hotel room each evening caused much whispered talk about the town as to her wanton behavior. Most of it was founded on jealousy though, as there was not a man in the town who would not have exchanged places with the gambler.
For Belle, lost in a heady balloon of happiness all went unnoticed and she ignored the frowning glances of Ma Leatherbetter who tutted over the girl’s willfulness. Tim would say nothing; he was too busy counting the income that Aloysius brought from the card table. The gambler was a regular winner, so much so that now only the wealthiest in the town would play against him. There was no complaint in this either for each rich man that entered the saloon demanded the best in service and Tim had ordered crates of French champagne brought in to meet the demand.
None of which pleased Joe Bellows who saw his trade lessening each day as more and more folk slipped over to The-Get-Up-and-Go and his resentment grew as a result. His secret meetings with the gambler took on a turn of urgency as he prodded the man to make haste and bring the girl away.
Aloysius was tired though. The excesses demanded of him by Belle’s avid desires and the long hours of concentrated card playing had all but exhausted him and he had a dark ringed look about his eyes and a stoop to his shoulders as he sat and played poker at night. It was this fatigue perhaps that caught him out.
The man that faced him across the card table was the sharp-eyed manager of the town’s bank. Not the best of situations to be found in for a man who cared for large amounts of people’s money. But Ephraim Boggs gave it no thought. His was a powerful position in the community. He held the purse strings and could offer loan and interest as he saw fit and the knowledge had gone to his head somewhat. The past months of obsequious deference he had received from the townsfolk since opening the bank reassured him that he was above criticism.
A pompous man then you will see, and a man given to some indulgence in the fleshpots. He liked his food and drink and the occasional entry into a high stakes game. It was this that had brought him to Aloysius’s table this night.
‘That’s three hands straight you’ve won tonight,’ complained the banker. ‘Will you give one other of us a chance?’
Aloysius shrugged, ‘The cards fall as they may, Mister Boggs. I can only play what I am handed.’
‘Unseemly lucky then, I must say.’
Aloysius looked at him darkly, ‘Unseemly? Are you implying something, sir?’
‘No,’ Boggs spread his pudgy hands innocently. ‘I make no charge, it is just fortune above odds is all that I comment on.’
‘Above odds? What can you mean?’
‘I do the math, Mister Barrett Browning. Each time I sit at this table there is a three-hand win on your part. The next hand is another’s win and then it passes back to you. There is something unexpected in such results, surely you will agree?’
Aloysius stroked his goatee beard between two fingers, ‘Are you calling me a cheat, sir?’
<
br /> ‘No, no,’ Boggs said quickly. ‘I have no foundation for such a claim. As I say it is merely an observation.’
‘Well,’ snapped Aloysius suddenly irritable. ‘Best keep your blasted observations to yourself.’
‘I don’t know though, he has a point,’ interrupted Caleb Mars, the owner of the town haulage company, sitting on Aloysius’s left hand. ‘I’ve lost a packet to your damned luck. How is it such a run can work on so regular a string?’
‘If you don’t like it then best leave the table,’ spat the annoyed Aloysius.
‘I take objection to that,’ said Mars, who was not a man to back down easily. He had come up the hard way, mule skinning as a youth amongst rough mountain men and knew enough not to stand away. ‘I’ll not take any kind of orders from the likes of you.’
‘Likes of me! What is this you say? You think I am any the lesser than you?’ Aloysius was in no mood for argument, his nerves were stretched and his shoulders tense.
Mars colored up, ‘You are a tinhorn gambler, sir,’ he growled. ‘If you made your way by effort and the use of your hands I might have some respect for you.’
‘Steady now, gentleman,’ said the white-suited man seated on Aloysius’s right hand. He was the assayer and normally a quiet inoffensive bookish sort of fellow. ‘Let’s not lose our tempers. Just deal the cards, Mister Barrett Browning and let us play.’
Aloysius huffed; he shuffled the card and glared once at Mars, then began to deal. But Mars reached out and laid a brawny hand over the gambler’s, stilling the deal.
‘I don’t like your style, Mister,’ he said.
Aloysius lost his temper, he snatched his hand away and his normal placid countenance slipped away to reveal his baser self. He let loose with an unusual display of gutter talk.
‘Lay hands on me, would you?’ he shouted. ‘Why, you pissant piece of horse-trading shit. You can shove your ‘style’ up your raggedy ass.’
