“Not used to seeing you here, Michael,” Steven said, as he set his glass of whiskey down in front of him.
Michael wiped the beer from his lips with the back of his hand. “Just feeling a little restless tonight.”
Jacob leaned in close. “I hear you have yourself a real pretty gal working at the pharmacy with you.”
Before he could answer, Steven added, “Sickly though, I understand.”
“Not sickly. She has asthma, but we’re working on getting her condition under control. She puts in a full day at work with no problem.”
“We’re working on it?” Steven smirked.
Michael bristled. “Well, I do know a few things about medicine, you know.”
“Calm down, friend. I didn’t mean nothing by it.” Steven took another sip of his whiskey and burped.
Jacob signaled the bartender for another beer. “Hear tell she’s got her whole family after her to leave. Where is it she’s from? Oklahoma City?”
Michael bristled. “You spend too much time listening to gossip.” The conversation made him uneasy. For some reason discussing Heidi in a saloon seemed wrong.
Jacob turned the conversation to his lack of supper, and soon he and Steven got into an argument about which restaurant served the biggest portions, leaving Michael time with his own thoughts. His gaze wandered around the room, and immediately swung back to a man leaning his chair against the far wall. Clarence Manfred.
Well, well. So the fiancé has arrived to check on his betrothed.
As he watched, a young prostitute sauntered over to Clarence with more familiarity than any first meeting. She settled on his lap, rubbing her bottom over his groin. Manfred slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, his fingers disappearing under her dress. The girl giggled and opened her legs. So here sat the devoted fiancé? Fondling a whore without even the privacy of the girl’s room? Michael shook his head as anger shot through him, thinking Heidi could actually end up married to the bastard.
“Hey Henderson, wanna sit in for Tommy?” Nick Rankin called to him from a poker table in the middle of the room.
“Sure.” Michael swallowed the rest of his beer and left the empty glass on the table as he stood. He settled into the chair still warm from the last player’s body, and threw a coin into the pot as the man to his left began to deal.
An hour later Michael still played, up over thirty dollars. Myron Smythe pushed his chair back and declared he was done for the night. His seat immediately filled, and Michael found himself staring into the eyes of the man who planned to marry his employee.
“Henderson.” Clarence nodded at him.
“Manfred.” Michael returned.
By the fourth hand Clarence clearly had his mind on other things besides poker. The young whore from earlier came down the stairs with a cowboy following, tucking his shirt into worn, dusty jeans. She drifted over to Clarence and sat on his lap again. Michael cringed at the thought of her leaving one man, and then settling on the lap of another. But that characterized her life, didn’t it?
Clarence accepted another glass of whiskey from a passing waitress, and took a gulp. His bloodshot eyes attested to how many drinks he’d already consumed. He picked up his cards and stared at them.
“Your bid, Manfred.” The dealer gestured with his chin in Clarence’s direction.
The semi-drunk Clarence yanked at the top of the whore’s dress, pulling the red satin fabric to her waist, exposing her to the room. He stuck his head between her naked breasts. “I need a lick for luck.” He nuzzled the young flesh and ran his tongue over one of her nipples. The girl gasped and looked around, a flush rising from her bare breasts to her hairline.
“Knock it off, Manfred,” Michael snarled.
“What?” Clarence slurred. “She’s a whore.”
The girl attempted to get up, but Clarence’s arm held firm around her waist.
Michael stood, his hands fisted on the table. “Let her go.”
“Mind your own business, Henderson.” His face flushed as red as his eyes.
Michael moved around the table and yanked the girl from Clarence’s grip. He righted her dress, and se
t her aside. Tears ran down her young face, the kohl on her eyes making black tracks on her cheeks. Then he reached down and pulled Clarence to his feet by his shirt front. “Go back to your hotel and sleep it off.”
Clarence jerked away from Michael’s grip, stumbling against his chair. “Who the hell do you think you are, Henderson? You think because you spend all day with my fiancée, you’re her savior or something? Or do ya think you’re every woman’s savior? Even the whores?”