A Lady in Defiance (14 page)

“You’re talking too much,” Lily, the Negro girl on her left,
warned.

Hannah ignored her, eager to pounce on a chance to make a
friend and get some information. But because the comment was so shocking, she
lowered her voice. “She’s jealous of Naomi?! Good grief, why? It’s not like she
wants her job.”

“She’s afraid she wants her man,” Daisy explained.

“What?!” Hannah was certain she had not heard the answer
correctly.

“Rose and Mr. McIntyre sort of have a relationship.”

“My sister lost her husband less than a month ago. She’s not
looking at Mr. McIntyre, or anyone else, right now. And when she does, I doubt
it will be someone like him.”

Daisy shrugged. “She wants her to keep away from him. That’s
all I know. Rose doesn’t always make sense. I think she’s half crazy.”

“And she’s always looking for a fight,” the redhaired girl
Iris warned. “Don’t let Daisy gentle the situation. Rose is a mean witch−literally.
If McIntyre doesn’t kill her, you need to watch your backs.”

“Now you have said too much,” Lily grumbled, throwing warning
looks at both Daisy and Iris. But then it seemed she couldn’t keep from adding
to the gossip. “McIntyre may be planning to give Rose a good flogging−or
worse−but she’ll come out of it just as vengeful as ever. And we’d better
get our rear ends back to the saloon or he’ll come lookin’ for us next.”

Conceding it was time to go, Iris and Lily filed towards the
door, but Daisy hung back. She casually ran her hand over a bolt of fabric and
waited for the other two girls to leave before she spoke up. “Is it true, what
Rose said about you expecting a baby?”

For some reason, Hannah desperately wanted to be friends with
this girl. “Yes, it’s all true. Rose was right when she said we’re no
different. We all make mistakes, even us holier-than-thou-Bible-toters.” Daisy
managed to give her a fractious smile for the attempt at brevity. As she took a
step to leave, Hannah gently grabbed her arm, curious about one thing. “But how
did she know?”

Daisy squirmed uneasily, pulling her arm free. “She thinks
she’s a witch. I think it’s mostly Mayan mumbo-jumbo and she just uses it to
scare people, but sometimes, she does know things.” With that, she abruptly
dashed back to work.

Chapter
11

McIntyre practically hurled Rose into his office and slammed
the door behind them. Before she could even stand up straight, he was on her
again, this time with his hand around her throat. Nearly cutting off her air,
he shoved her up against the wall and spoke with his face so close to hers
their noses touched.

“You seem to have forgotten your place in our arrangement,
Rose. I am your employer and you are my employee.” He tightened his grip and
she clawed at his hand; he could feel her pulse pounding wildly. “None, and I
do mean, NONE of my business deals are of any concern to you. You will not
speak to those women, you will not look at them. You will cross to the other
side of the street if you see them coming. You will not ask Emilio to spy on
them and you will cease practicing your voo-doo hoo-doo nonsense in my saloon.”

He allowed himself to calm a little and breathe slower, but
he didn’t loosen his grip. “After the incident with Blossom last fall, I
thought you and I were clear on how things are. Apparently I was wrong, so I
will clarify one
last
time.” He could feel her pulse slowing as the
strangle hold took effect and the strength drained from her struggle. Her face
swelled and her eyes threatened to roll back in her head. “Cross me again on
this and I will send you to work at the Broken Spoke…pray Diamond Lil will have
you.”

He released her as quickly as he had grabbed her and Rose
collapsed to the floor, gasping for air and coughing through, he was sure, a
nearly crushed wind pipe. McIntyre straightened his clothes and brushed lint
off his shoulders. “Now, get ready for work.”

“I’ll kill them,” she croaked, rising uncertainly to her
feet. The hate in her eyes made him wary. “This town is mine. You’re mine.”

Without hesitating, he stepped in close again and grabbed her
face. He knew he couldn’t afford to ever let her think she had the upper hand.
“Rose, you are nothing but a crazy working girl to me. In the blink of an eye,
I can have you living on the street and tending to customers from the back of a
wagon. Hell wouldn’t even take you after that.” He tried to sear the image into
her head with a squeeze of her jaw. “You would do well to stay in my good
graces.” Sick of her, he shoved her away and reached for the exit.

Calmly, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him,
leaving Rose to compose herself. The saloon, settling between shift changes,
was empty now except for his bartender drying glasses. He couldn’t believe the
violence the wench ignited in him. He had never manhandled a woman before in
his life and yet it had happened repeatedly with Rose. Their relationship was a
despicable quagmire and he was done with it.

Disgusted with himself, he trudged to the bar. The sensual
painting of Eve gazed down on the room and he took a moment to appreciate the
serene, languid look in her eyes. Why couldn’t all women be so quiet and
willing? Unlike Rose. Unlike Naomi Miller. Wouldn’t the fiery little belle just
love to know what he had named the portrait? That would probably curl her hair,
he speculated with a smirk.

Brannagh, the fifty-ish Irish bouncer he had hired a while
back from a tough saloon in San Francisco, nodded at his boss and retrieved a
bottle from behind the counter. Old, maybe, McIntyre mused, but still tough as
nails and built like an oak. There had been no fights in the Iron Horse since
Brannagh had laid down the law. As far as saloons went in mining towns, this
was one of the safer ones. He liked to think that hiring Brannagh had been one
of his best investments. Apparently hiring Rose was one of the worst.

The burly Irishman poured his boss a short shot and set it
before him. “Rose givin’ ye trouble...again?”

McIntyre fingered the drink. “Let’s just say you’ve done a
far better job, Brannagh, at controlling the drunken patrons in here than I’ve
done handling one crazy, Mexican harlot.”

“Ah, ye’re Flowers aren’t so bad. I’ve seen worse. Why, I
broke up a catfight one time in Frisco. Worse injuries I ever got. Said I’d
never do it again. I got knifed, clawed and kicked in places that still hurt.
Men fight like men. Women fight like unchained demons.”

McIntyre chuckled and nodded in agreement, but he was struck
by the truth behind the statement. He had never laid a hand on any of his girls
until he’d hired Rose. Her desire for blood and violence seemed to infect those
around her with a brooding malaise, including himself. The realization was
disquieting.

Before her arrival, he had never made a habit of usury, running
crooked games, watering his whiskey, or encouraging the miners to bet their
claims. Before, he had considered himself a mostly respectable man with
slightly fluid business ethics. Now, he was more driven and ethics had become a
nuisance. When had that happened?

Was he using Rose as an excuse? Surely years of selling
whiskey and women, gambling, and associating with questionable persons couldn’t
have affected him on a basic level. He could hear his mother’s sweet, lilting
voice reminding him over and over that bad company corrupted good manners.

His eyes traveled over to his closed office door and he
pondered the woman on the other side. He could argue that his lack of
self-control added more fuel to an already out-of-control fire. Rose seemed to
gain strength from these ugly encounters; they hardened her resolve to...what?
Become the Queen of Defiance?

More like the Queen of the Damned, he thought sourly as he
pushed the shot of whiskey away.

Daisy hid behind the curtain in her room and watched the
sisters leave the mercantile. She liked the youngest one; she had talked to her
in such a friendly way. Was it possible she didn’t know exactly what Daisy did
for a living? Maybe she didn’t understand about working at the saloon−no,
Daisy stopped that train of thought. Nobody was that naïve. Still, she had gone
out of her way to make small talk about the buttons and Daisy had not sensed
any condescension in her attitude. She had told her the truth about the baby,
too. Could it be the girl was just friendly?

Iris burst into the room from behind her and bounced over to
the other window. She, too, watched the women walk sullenly down the boardwalk,
obviously less than chipper after their run-in with Rose. The redhead giggled
in a bratty way.

Wearily, Daisy looked over at her and saw that Iris was
already carrying a glass of whiskey. It was her ritual for preparing for the
night’s work. “What’s so funny?” Daisy asked sounding as tired as she felt.

“I was just thinking, we’ll have to get some rotten
vegetables and practice our aim the next time they come to the store.”

Daisy was surprised at the anger the comment sparked in her.
“Why do you want to say things like that, Iris? Those girls haven’t done
anything to you.”

Iris arched her eyebrows, but the surprise quickly changed to
a sneer. “They ain’t done nothin’
for
me either.”

 “Oh, just go on back to your room. I don’t want any
company right now.”

Iris flung a nervous glance to the door then backed up to the
window, clutching her drink. “Well, I kinda wanted to stay in here for a bit.”
Daisy understood. There was safety in numbers. None of them knew what mood Rose
might be in when she emerged from Mr. McIntyre’s office.

Iris had left the door open and the lack of privacy made
Daisy feel vulnerable. Thinking she would shut it against anymore unwanted
visitors, she ambled towards it. Lily squeaked through just as she was closing
it, slipping in quickly and quietly, with a nervous glance over her
shoulder.  “I listened for a second,” she whispered in a conspiratorial
tone. “I think he must’ve been chokin’ her ‘cause I couldn’t make out anything
she said.” They all shared uneasy fleeting looks with each other and Daisy
wondered what new hell Rose would unleash on them when she recovered.

The sisters slogged down the street in silence. With all
these people staring at her, intentionally jostling her, Naomi felt as if she
was holding on to her emotional control by a single, fraying thread. Her
sisters’ silence only added to the burden. She had started out so well. She
could have avoided a fight with Rose, if Rose had stayed focused on Naomi. But
when the vile wretch had gone after Hannah, if not for Mr. McIntyre’s timely
interference, blood, hair, fingernails and shreds of clothing would have flown.
It hadn’t happened, but it would have.

Sick of this town and her own uncontrollable temper, Naomi
didn’t think she could feel any more like a failure. Why couldn’t she learn
patience and wisdom? Why couldn’t she walk away like Rebecca had? 

Naomi glanced over at her sisters who were trudging doggedly
alongside her. Their faces said they were as lost in thought as she. “Well,
that was something,” Rebecca mused, perhaps feeling Naomi’s gaze. “Rose is a
rather thorny flower, to say the least.” She patted Naomi on the back. “I
thought you did well, Naomi, holding your tongue like you did.”

The observation made Naomi feel worse and she snorted in
disgust. “The only thing I did was get saved from myself by Mr. McIntyre, of
all people.” 

Hannah looked slowly back over her shoulder at the saloon and
searched the windows. “How did she know about the baby? I’m sure it was more
than a lucky guess.” Naomi rolled that around in her head, but didn’t have an
answer. Rebecca didn’t offer a comment, either. Hannah fiddled distractedly
with an escapee from her braid, working to tuck it back in its home while she
thought. “I saw something in her eyes. She’s not right in the head and I think
it’s more than just crazy.”

“I’m the crazy one,” Naomi admitted, deeply ashamed of her
behavior. “She lit such a fire under me I could’ve knocked her into next
Tuesday.”

Rebecca nodded her head emphatically. “That’s exactly what
she was counting on, I think. If she scared you she won, if you fought her she
won.”

“Well, she didn’t scare me.” It wasn’t a boast; merely a
statement of fact.

Rebecca gave a frustrated sigh. “I know and that’s what
worries me. She
should
have scared you. I think Hannah’s right. There’s
something evil in her eyes. You heard what Mr. McIntyre said.”

Hannah huffed out a breath, dropping her hands protectively
to her stomach. “Another minute of that stare and
I
would have run
screaming out the door.”

Frustrated beyond reason, Naomi shoved her hands heavenwards.
“What are we doing here?” she asked loudly enough to cause the men to stare,
for different reasons this time. “We don’t belong here. To call us fish out of
water is like calling President Grant a tea-totaler!”

Rebecca shushed her, forcing Naomi’s arms back down to her
side. “I know, I know, but try to remember that we’re here−”