Desperate

by Sylvia McDaniel

  She walked backwards toward the door, the gun still in her hand. When she reached the doorknob, she twisted it and stepped right into the head housekeeper.

  The woman stood there with her mouth open, staring at her. “You can’t shoot a gun in the house. You’re fired, Ruby.”

  “No, I quit.” Ruby turned and walked out the back door of the house.

  ***

  Ruby went to the livery stable and took the buggy and one of their horses, leaving the other horse behind for Annabelle. Right now, Ruby only desired to get home.

  Shaking all over, she kept trying to wretch, but nothing came up. Tears flowed unheeded down her face. Her stomach roiled with fear, and she kept glancing back to make sure no one had followed her. She felt dirty. Soiled from his touch. He’d thought she would just willingly lie down on the floor and have sex with him. He thought wrong.

  Clicking to the horse, she drove the buggy hard in her haste to get home where she would feel protected. Where she was safe.

  If this was what lovemaking was all about, then she’d do without. She longed for a man to think she was beautiful and who spent time with her, kissing and getting to know her. And when the time was right, they would make love. Then afterwards she dreamed of him holding her in his arms and telling her how much he loved her.

  The memory of Clay pinning her against his body, telling her of his plans to take her on the floor like she was a common whore, sent a shudder through her like the sound of a rattlesnake close by. Boys were so outrageous sometimes. They thought they were doing something so wicked when they’d kissed her out in the schoolyard, but she’d felt nothing. None of those boys meant anything to her. None of them. They were all silly boys who had no idea about the love of a good man and a woman. That’s what she longed for, what she dreamed of.

  A man like Deke.

  She pulled the wagon into the yard of the house and saw Deke saddling his horse. He was a good man. A man worthy of her love.

  “Deke, you haven’t left yet,” she called, pulling to a stop beside him. She tied the reins, and then Deke helped her out of the buggy.

  The feel of his hands on her waist was warmer than the Texas sunshine and soothed her wounded pride. She longed for him to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

  “You’ve been crying,” Deke said, gazing into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She bit her lip to stop the trembling and then gasped. “I got fired.”

  “What happened?” he asked, his hands moving from her waist to her shoulder as he wrapped her into a hug.

  Deke smelled of soap and something minty like he’d just bathed. The smell reminded her of the comfort of her father’s bear hug. Deke’s arms were strong and secure around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, needing his embrace. This man could be her husband, the one that understood her and made her feel special if she could convince him of how good they would be together. That she could make his life even better. That she would be a good wife. He would be hers.

  “My sisters are going to be so mad at me. They’re going to blame me, and it’s not my fault.” She sobbed into his shirt. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Really, I didn’t.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “No, they’re going to think that I…I instigated this, and I didn’t. I promise you, I did nothing. Nothing.”

  Deke patted her shoulder as her tears increased, and she pressed her shivering body against him. The feel of Deke’s muscled arms tightly wound around her was her undoing.

  “He said…he said…I worked for his family, and to continue working for them, I’d have to have sex with him.”

  “Bastard,” Deke swore.

  “He was trying to force me,” she wept.

  “I’ll kill him,” Deke said, and her heart swelled, like a creek after a storm. Here was a man who was good and honest who would fight for her honor and protect her. Here was a man worthy of her love.

  “He didn’t…” Deke asked gently, wiping her tears from her face. His fingers were rough against her skin, but she didn’t care.

  “No, I pulled my gun on him. He backed off then, but the housekeeper was waiting for me when I came out of the closet, and she fired me.”

  Deke pulled her tight against him. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Men kind of lose their minds when a pretty girl like you is around them.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

  He swallowed. “Yes, I do.”

  The smell of leather and man swept over her. Here was a man who was kind and decent and all she’d dreamed of in a husband. Deke was a man who would love her and protect her and show her the meaning of life.

  Living here, stuck on this farm with mere women, she longed to experience the life of adventure she dreamed of. One where she could kick the prairie dust off her feet and wear a party dress.

  When her papa was alive, he’d been busy, though when he’d paid her attention, he called her his Ruby love. But since his death, there was no man in her life. No man to call her Ruby love. Only sisters who were going to be so angry with her when they learned she’d lost her job.

  A shudder rippled through her, and she began to quake at the thought of what could have happened with Clay.

  “Are you cold,” Deke asked.

  “No, just scared,” she said. She bit her lip. “Please, Deke, wash away the memories of that awful man. Show me how a good man would treat a woman. Kiss me, make this fear go away.”

  He stared at her, his emerald eyes gazing at her, flickering with what looked like uncertainty. He opened his mouth, and she licked her lips.

  “Oh, blazes,” he said, as his mouth lowered to hers, and he covered her lips with his own. He tasted of apple, and a minty spice, and his lips plundered her. Ravaging her mouth, claiming her like she belonged to him. This was no schoolboy’s blundering attempt, but a man who knew how to kiss her silly.

  Only instead of satisfying her curiosity, she craved more. She needed more as she rubbed her fingers down the rock hard muscles in his back. A moan built in her throat as his tongue opened her mouth, and he pushed his way inside, causing her to gasp. She’d never experienced anything like this before, and the strength to resist seemed to leave her body. Her legs began to wobble, and his hands tilted her back, his arms holding her, supporting her as her breathing quickened, and she felt faint.

  An ache began to build in the center of her body, and his hand slid across her breast. She didn’t want him to ever cease. She needed him to touch her. To make her into a woman. A woman who knew how to please a man.

  His lips left hers. “Stop.”

  Slowly, she opened her eyes to gaze up at him. Her body burned like a fire had been started, and she hungered to be consumed in its flames.

  “No, don’t quit. What you’re doing is getting rid of the bad memories and feels so good,” she gasped, still in his arms staring into his eyes. “You make me feel beautiful.”

  Not wanting this to end, she reached up, her fingers touching her lips and her body craving something she didn’t understand. There was more, and she needed to experience it all. She needed Deke like she needed her next breath.

  He raised her up until she was standing and then pushed her away from him, his strong arms out straight, putting distance between them. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his eyes were wild with an emotion she’d never seen before.

  “No, I can’t. That’s as far as it goes. You’re a child. You’re innocent. And your papa would not have approved.”

  A child? He thought of her as a child? Did he not see the woman inside of her that was bursting for someone to release? Couldn’t he see she was a woman fully grown?

  “My papa is dead. We’re alone, and I want to know what it feels like to be a woman. I want you to be the man who makes me into a woman.” Ruby stepped toward him, needing him to take her into his arms once again.

  “Oh, no, not going to happen with this man. I would be disrespecting y
our papa. I’m not having sex with a child.”

  “Stop calling me a child,” she declared, her overwrought feelings rushing at her.

  “That’s what you are.”

  Like a splash of cold water had been thrown on her, shivers racked her body. She no longer had this intense urge for him to make her into a woman.

  Tingles of rage crawled up her spine, and she went hot all over. First, she’d been almost raped, and now, the one man she desired was refusing her. She wanted to smash something, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to do something to make him hurt like she was hurting.

  “Damn it, Deke Culver. I’m asking you to take me, and you’re being all respectful. That’s not what I want,” she fairly screamed at him.

  “It’s not happening.” He walked over to his horse where he finished tightening the cinch on his saddle. “Don’t make me mad that I kissed you.”

  Tears pricked her eyelids as pain gripped her insides and twisted them into a knot. Her humiliation for the day was complete. Nothing worse could happen.

  “Get off our land. Get out of here,” she yelled, her rage full blown now that he was angry he’d kissed her. She reached beneath her skirt, giving him a flash of pantaloons and pulled her gun from its hidden holster.

  With a toss of her blonde hair, she aimed the pistol at his groin. “Get the hell out of here.”

  He laughed at her. “Now you’re proving to me you’re still a child. You’re not ready to be a woman.”

  She raised the gun and fired it over his head. “Get. Out. Of. Here. Now.”

  He climbed on his horse and then blew her a kiss. “See you round, Ruby. Save me a kiss when you’re a grown woman.”

  “Aargh.” She started to raise the gun again, but then remembered the words of her papa. Don’t aim a gun at a man unless you intend to kill him. With a trembling hand, she lowered the weapon for the second time that day.

  “You’ll never get another one of my kisses,” she yelled after him, but he only waved goodbye at her. The sun burned the tears tracking down her cheeks.

  Men were ignorant beasts, and she wanted nothing more to do with them. She was done. She’d use them and trample on their hearts and leave them behind in the dust where they belonged.

  Chapter Five

  The restaurant had closed for the day, and Annabelle put the last of the clean dishes up in the cabinet. Then she took her apron off. “Anything else, Rusty?”

  “Uh, I need to talk to you?” The tone of his voice was unsure, almost nervous.

  Annabelle looked at him, and a nervous trickle ran down her spine. He had a sheepish expression on his face, not his regular leer, and he almost seemed embarrassed.

  “I have to let you go.”

  “Why? I thought I was doing a good job?” Annabelle demanded, thinking of how hard she had worked to make sure she was doing everything right.

  “You did.” He looked at the floor and not at Annabelle. “It’s just the wife caught me patting you on the ass the other day, and she said you have to go.”

  Anger stirred inside of Annabelle like a firestorm after a lightning strike. No, this wasn’t her dream job, but it helped pay the bills. “Did you tell your wife I would serve you up to the buzzards if you touched me again?”

  Her mother was probably rolling in her grave right now at Annabelle’s language, but desperate times called for vulgarity. She was tired of being a proper lady and being taken advantage of.

  “I did, but she didn’t care.” His eyes refused to meet hers, and she realized he wasn’t as strong as he let on. His wife ruled the house and the business.

  He rubbed his hand through his hair and then glanced at Annabelle. “She doesn’t want any pretty young girl working here in the restaurant. She’s going to take over being the waitress.”

  “Damn it, Rusty. I really needed this job. This work helps keep me and my sisters from starving.” Annabelle wanted to hit the bastard. “You tell your wife you would have faced the barrel of my gun if you’d touched me again.”

  She was tempted to find his wife and let her know how foolish the woman was acting, not that she’d care. The woman feared Annabelle would take her precious man. Frankly, she wanted nothing more to do with this idiot.

  Rusty stared as his mouth dropped open. She grabbed the money from his hand. It was hers. She’d worked hard and put up with bad customers, a touchy boss, and now his irate wife. She deserved more, but would take what she could get.

  “It’s three weeks salary. I gave you an extra week.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a sigh, her heart heavy. What would she do now? “You’re a bastard, Rusty. I worked hard for your restaurant.”

  He swallowed and gazed down at the floor. “I’d keep you, but the missus has not let me near her since she saw me touching you. I have to let you go.”

  The urge to take a frying pan and slap him upside the head was almost too much to bear. But she was never one for violence, and it wouldn’t help the situation. Her best bet was to take her pride and go home. But damn, she hated losing this job.

  “Next time, keep your hands to yourself.”

  He shrugged. “It’s hard not to touch a pretty woman like you.”

  The audacity of the man. Maybe she’d be doing his wife a favor if she just pulled out a gun and shot him. But then the wife was the one insisting Annabelle leave, and frankly, neither one of these two fools was worth spending her life in prison. “Do you think I care?”

  “No. You were a good waitress, Annabelle. If you need a reference, let me know, and I’ll be happy to recommend you.”

  She stared at him unable to believe the nerve of this idiot. Had her father never let them work before because he knew what kind of people they would have to learn to deal with? Could he have known and not wanted his daughters subjected to morons who communicated with their hands.

  The wife came to the door. “Rusty, it’s time to go home.”

  He sighed, and Annabelle stood. “Thanks Annabelle. Good luck to you.”

  Annabelle stalked from the restaurant. She wanted to kill something. To take her gun and shoot at anything that moved at the moment.

  Instead, she took the horse Ruby had left her and rode out of town. Damn, what would she tell her sisters?

  *

  It was quitting time. It was Friday. It should be payday. As Meg was leaving, she glanced over at her boss, half asleep in his chair. His wife was in the back, overseeing the laundry, while her husband took a nap.

  The mending was finished, and Meg feared Ho Chinn wouldn’t pay her for what she’d done. If he hadn’t paid her a penny so far, who was there to require he compensate her for the work she’d done? What if he refused to give her the wages she’d earned?

  “Ho Chinn,” Meg called, waking him up from his slumber.

  He glanced at her, his eyes drowsy. She almost hated this man. But yet, he had given her a job.

  “When are you going to pay me?” she asked.

  “Not today. Go home,” he said.

  “When are you going to pay me?” she asked again, her voice more demanding.

  “Not today,” he responded more adamantly and waved his hands at her. “Go home.”

  Fear trickled through her. Her fingers were sore; her eyes felt crossed, but the work was done. Completed. And now where was her compensation?

  “Give me a date or I’m no longer working for you.”

  “I’m the boss. I will tell you when you get your money.”

  Fierce anger swept through her as she clenched her fists at his lack of feeling. Didn’t he realize the reason she was working was because she needed money?

  She stepped up to the counter and faced him, the cabinet separating them. “This is the last time I’m asking you, when will I see some cash from you?”

  “I pay when you finish.”

  “I’m finished,” she replied.

  He glanced around at the stacks of mending. They were gone. Everything was done. She’d worked long and hard to clear
up the stacks of repair work he had around the laundry.

  Frustration gripped her insides, yet this was a job. She needed it so she could make next year’s bank payment. She needed it to help feed her sisters. She needed this job so she could develop a reputation as a good seamstress.

  “Go home, come back tomorrow.”

  “I’ve been working for you for two weeks. I did all the mending; now it’s time for you to give me my wages.”

  He glanced around the laundry in disbelief. “Everything done?”

  “Yes, everything’s done.”

  “Go home, come back tomorrow.”

  “Pay me now!” she demanded.

  “No,” he said. “More work tomorrow.”

  A fierce burning sensation fired through her at the injustice of everything in the last few weeks. Her father’s death, the bank note, and working so hard to take care of things and being thwarted at every move she made. Jumping over the counter, she watched as his eyes grew large, and he stood.

  “What are you doing? Go home now!”

  “I’m collecting my wages.” She opened up the cash register. “I finished. You need to pay me.”

  For two weeks, she’d worked twelve to sixteen hours a day to complete the mending so the money she earned could help at home, but now she wasn’t even sure he would ever give her the cash due her. It was time to collect.

  He came up behind her and grabbed her hand to keep it from getting inside his cash drawer. “Go home. No pay today.”

  She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him to the laundry rack where there was a hook on a pulley that lifted the laundry basket. The laundry maids would pull the baskets into the back where they proceeded to wash the clothes.

  “Stop,” he yelped.

  She’d put up with him for over two weeks, checking each piece, making sure she had done it perfectly, bringing some back and saying redo, carrying mending home, and working late at night to get his laundry caught up for naught.

  Holding him by the shirt, she put his vest through the hook, lifted him off the ground and then pushed him toward the back, sending him zipping into the back along the wire.