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 5
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.
He screamed in his native tongue at her. Finally, his English kicked in. “You fired. Do not come back. You fired.”
Meg opened the cash register and counted out what was owed her and left the rest. It was tempting to take what wasn’t hers, but that wasn’t money she’d earned. She only took her wages and then slammed the drawer shut.
“Goodbye, if you ever need another seamstress don’t call me.” She walked out the door.
The money she’d earned was less than sixty dollars. Not enough to pay off the loan completely. If they paid off the bank loan in full, there would be no pressure to save the farm. There would be no pressure to take jobs that were demeaning and paid less than a crib girl’s salary.
Ruby heard the gunshots and rushed outside to see who was shooting. Annabelle had set up the tin cans on the fence where Papa had taught them to shoot. One by one she knocked off the cans.
“Hey,” Ruby called.
“Hi,” Annabelle fairly grunted.
“You okay?” Ruby asked, noting the rigid set of Annabelle’s shoulders and the tense lines around her mouth.
Annabelle raised her pistol; her eyes focused on the target and then pulled the trigger, knocking the can to the ground. “See the face on that can?”
“You drew a face on a can?”
“Yes,” Annabelle raised her pistol, sighted her target and fired at the can. It flew off the fence and landed with a bounce on the ground. “I’m killing my boss.”
Ruby gave a little laugh. “You’re speaking figuratively, right?”
Not sensible, logical, and rational Annabelle. Of the three, she was the least likely to commit bloodshed. What had happened to make her want to kill her boss?
“Maybe, I haven’t decided yet.” Annabelle looked fierce, madder than Ruby had ever seen her. “I’m going to put a bullet through his forehead.” She fired her Baby Dragoon Colt. “Bull’s eye.”
Ruby laughed, lifted her skirt and pulled out her own gun. “Let me have a try. That can is Clay Mullens.”
Taking aim, she pulled the trigger and knocked the can off the fence. There was satisfaction in pretending she’d just shot a man who’d tried to rape her. The law would never do anything to stop him, and she feared his family would somehow retaliate if she were to have him arrested. It would be her word against his, and he would win.
“Knocked his head clean off? Now I think I’ll aim for his man parts.” She fired again, and the next can flew off the fence and rolled along the ground, making a clattering noise.
Annabelle turned and stared at Ruby a moment, her gaze suddenly suspicious. “Why are you aiming for his man parts?”
Ruby lifted her arm, gripped the handle with both hands and sighted the target. Pulling the trigger, she released the tension that had gripped her all day. “The asshole tried to rape me today. I wanted to kill him. I raised my gun and was ready to put one in his head, but I knew I’d go to jail. I fired close enough he heard the bullet whiz by. I think he might have messed his pants. Then I quit.”
Tears of anger and fear at the experience bubbled up inside, overwhelming her as she realized what would have happened if she’d had no gun. “I’m sorry. I worked hard; I did what I was told, but I wasn’t going to have sex with him. I just wasn’t.”
Now, she would hear the lecture on how it was time to grow up and think of the three of them. Now, Annabelle would make her feel like a complete failure, but it wasn’t her fault. Not this time.
Annabelle laid her gun down on the fence and walked over to Ruby and hugged her close. “It’s okay. I’m so glad he didn’t hurt you. You know Meg would have killed him if he had.”
Ruby held onto her sister, her body shaking with the realization of how close she’d come to being raped. “I was so scared, Annabelle. My cheek is sore from where he hit me. Other than that, I’m okay.”
“You’re not going back there,” Annabelle said, her hand gently touching Ruby’s bruised cheek.
“No, I was fired.”
Annabelle laughed and stepped out of her sister’s embrace. “I was let go today as well.”
“What?” Ruby stared at her sister in surprise. Annabelle had been fired, as well?
“Yeah, Rusty’s wife caught him grabbing my ass and told him he had to let me go.”
“He touched you inappropriately?”
“Yes,” Annabelle said quietly. “I did nothing to provoke him.”
“Me neither,” Ruby responded, thinking of how she’d only spoken to that creep once. Just once.
Annabelle had dealt with an unwanted man touching her, and Ruby had a young man who tried to rape her. Poor Meg was continually working, doing the mending, and hoping Ho Chinn would pay her. They all had horrible jobs, except that Annabelle and Ruby were now fired.
Annabelle picked up her gun, took aim, and fired at another tin can. “But he promised me he’d give me a good recommendation.”
“You or your ass?” Ruby laughed and wiped away her tears. She loved Annabelle and now realized how she had let Deke Culver, the sorry maverick, come between them. Never again.
Annabelle smiled. “Probably my ass.”
Ruby picked up her gun and fired at the last tin can, knocking it down. Annabelle hurried over and set them all up on the fence again. “Okay, so let’s tell our bosses how we really feel about them and then shoot the can that represents their sorry, butts. You go first.”
“Touch me again, and I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your brain.” Ruby fired the gun, sending the can flying through the air before it landed on the ground.
The image of his face swam before her and a rush of pleasure erupted inside her at the idea of target practicing with his face.
Annabelle lifted the revolver and aimed. “Put your hands on your wife’s butt, not mine.”
“I’m not a calico queen,” Ruby spat and then knocked the can to the ground.
“Tell your wife she’s one unlucky woman to be married to scum like you.” Annabelle took aim on the can and fired.
What had Annabelle put up with before his wife caught the jerk? Why hadn’t she told them?
Ruby aimed her small Baby Dragoon Colt. “Just because I work for your family, doesn’t mean I’m your personal whore.”
Annabelle steadied her pistol and aimed it at the can. “No, I don’t want to become a painted cat.”
A painted cat? A saloon girl? Where had that come from? Surely Annabelle didn’t think they would be so desperate they’d have to work in a saloon. No, Ruby wasn’t ready for that job, and she’d do everything she could to keep from having to sell herself. Today had shown her she didn’t want anything to do with men.
“All men are outlaws, even you, Deke Culver,” Ruby said, firing the gun.
Annabelle frowned and glanced over at Ruby. “You’re not in love with him any longer? When did that change?”
Oops! She shouldn’t have mentioned Deke’s name. Yet anger rose up in her and gripped her hand, pulling her trigger finger. The tin receptacle flew off the fence, clattering when the bullet hit the metal.
“I was in infatuation, not love. But all that changed this afternoon when I came home. I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.” Ruby raised her gun. “We both dodged a bullet with that one.”
“How do you know?” Annabelle asked, staring at Ruby with those all-knowing eyes that always found out whenever Ruby did anything wrong.
“He told me I was a child. He wouldn’t…”
Annabelle started to laugh. “So he is a good man and wouldn’t take advantage of you. You need to leave him to a woman.”
“Oh yeah, you want him, and I should leave him for you. Well, let me tell you, I don’t think he’ll be coming around again, after I fired my gun at him.”
Twice today she’d aimed her gun, at a man close enough to send a message. A leave me alone message. Still, Deke was no different from any other man she’d ever met.
“Ruby?” Annabelle said. “You fired at our guest.”
“Yes, after he kissed me and then wouldn’t continue.”
Oh, she probably shouldn’t have told her sister that little piece of information. But it was true. Why wouldn’t he continue kissing her? Didn’t he enjoy kissing her? Why had he stopped?
Ruby took aim with her pistol and fired at a canister. “That’s for you, Deke.”
“You know, I never was really attracted to him. But I would like to have a man in my life. Someone who cared for me. Someone I could make a life with,” Annabelle said gazing off in the distance.
Stunned, Ruby looked at her sister in surprise. She didn’t want him for herself? Then suddenly it dawned on her. “You were trying to keep me from him.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for a man,” Annabelle said softly. “But maybe I was wrong. You’re growing up, and we’ve all been through so much. Maybe I should just stay out of your way.”
Ruby smiled. “Thank you, but Deke is not who we thought he was. He’s not a man who…” she trailed off. So he wouldn’t bed her. Didn’t she want a man who respected her? Or did she just want a man she could manipulate?
For a moment, Ruby considered her thoughts, leaving her all tied up. Finally, she raised her gun, aimed, and fired at a can on the fence.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Meg called out, standing behind Ruby and Annabelle.
They both whirled around, startled at the sound of her voice. “It sounds like you guys have started a war.”
“We just may,” Annabelle said. “I was ‘let go’ today.”
“I quit.”
Meg started to laugh, her voice sounding hysterical.
Ruby laid her gun down and went to her older sister’s side. She’d never seen Meg so vulnerable. So on the edge that she worried her. She laid her hand on Meg’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“What’s so funny?” Annabelle asked, gazing at Meg like she’d lost her mind.
“I got fired today too,” she managed to get out from between her hysterical laughs.
Lipstick and Lead Series: The Complete Box Set With a Bonus Book Page 9
