- CHAPTER THREE -

"Coming together is a beginning, keeping together is progress, working together is success."

Henry Ford

"Why Annabelle dear, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" Mary drawled. She was leaning against the bar, arms crossed, legs squeezed together with her behind curved outward so as to look enticing to all the men in the saloon.

I cast a glance at Jack, and I pretended to feel nothing when I noticed his eyes dart from Mary to the ground like a shy boy afraid to be caught staring.

"And whose you're friend here?" she asked, standing upright and holding out a hand. Jack shook it curtly.

"Jack Marston," he said, "Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, sugar," Mary said.

Jack was true to his word and accompanied me back to the Scratching Post. I wasn't surprised that Stinson burned it to the ground.

"What a shit-hole," Jack had said about my property that I paid for with my own money and was quite proud of.

"It was nice before it burned down."

Along the way home, I kept my eye out for Stinson or his gang but I didn't see anything. He must be down for the count, what with his eye all... stabbed.

After looking through the wreckage and finding nothing, we decided to head to Rathskeller Fork. Which, I hadn't any idea how to keep Jack from knowing I was a prostitute there. Would it matter if he did know? Why did I lie about it in the first place? Because I'm stupid, that's why.

"We all thought you were gone for good," Mary said to me, "What happened, baby? You look worse for wear."

"It's a long story but firstly I have to know - did the man, the good-looking one from a few night's back who wanted to buy up a few girls, did he come back here?"

"No honey, he was gone as quick as he came."

Jack's eyes caught mine over Mary's blonde head. She was a short thing, and I was rather tall. He had a questioning look in them, but what the man had said... All those awful things he threatened to do to me were too shameful to repeat. What could I tell him, anyways? This was my problem alone to bare.

"Have you seen him since?"

"Relax Annabelle," she laughed, "Why are you so worked up?"

"He's the reason I was gone," I replied. "I... Just need to know." She looked at me with such big, caring eyes that my shoulders sagged and my gaze went to the floor. "But anyways, that's a story for a different time." I let her catch my eyes flicker to Jack and she nodded slowly, catching on that I didn't want him to know about it.

"Can I offer our guest here a drink?" she asked, changing the subject.

"He's buying." I added, smirking at Jack when he shot me a glare.

"Two whiskeys," he said, sitting on a stool by the bar. Mary gestured to the bartender and he filled our glasses.

Jack took a sip. I downed it. He watched me down it, then downed his own. I wasn't going to play games with him. This was a battle of wits and he'd find out quickly how far I could go.

He gestured to the bartender for another two whiskeys. While they were being poured, I glanced around. The girls were acting no different and everything seemed so normal here. Yet I felt completely changed. I had to become a fugitive now, less I be caught by Ray Stinson. And what could I do? I felt, once again, the cold fear creep in. The whiskey was placed in front of me and I downed it in one gulp.

"Damn," Jack grunted, downing his.

"Annabelle's a drinker," the bartender said with a laugh. "Another?"

"Keep 'em coming," Jack replied with a nod.

"Are you working tonight?" the bartender asked casually. I shot him an accusing glare, but he only stared at me blankly.

"Uh, no. That's why I'm here. Enjoying my time off. After getting shot and all." I gave the bartender a look.

"Where do you work?" Jack asked.

"The... Mines."

"Really? They hired a woman? Not that there's a problem with that it's just..."

The bartender was watching me, painfully unamused.

"... Strange, I know," I continued for him, nodding my head.

Another whiskey. Another down. I wanted to chase away the fear I felt with the happiness of getting drunk. The fear was still there, in my heart and soul. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted my worries to go away but I hadn't an idea or a plan of what I would do once the morning came. Would it be better or worse to turn myself in to the Mexican government? They would kill me, surely, but was that better then becoming a sex slave? At least as a prostitute I made money. I had some freedom. I could go where I pleased. Ray Stinson didn't want me for anything but my services, and he wanted them free.

And suddenly, an idea popped into my head of where I could go.

"Thieves Landing," I whispered.

"Pardon?" Jack asked. I looked at him, stunned. Could Stinson eventually find me there? Maybe. But Madam had offered me welcome to the Dixie Rose, and it was a place I could hide out and make money while I planned my next move of escape from Ray Stinson.

I took another whiskey shot and slammed the glass down on the bar.

Then I looked at Jack. Liquid courage shot into my veins after that round of drinking. I was asking much of him, I know, but it was a manner of life and death.

"I need to go to Thieves Landing, Marston, and I need someone to accompany me there. I would love it if you could see to it. I know I'm asking a lot, but frankly, I trust you more then hired help. You're a good shot, a hell of a shot, and I knew your father was a righteous man. You must be righteous too. And, and well, I... I need to go. It's a matter of life and death for me, Marston, and I-." I stopped babbling and looked him in the eyes. He was staring at me blankly, as if waiting for the part where this would benefit him. I couldn't think of one.

Well, actually there was only one way I could pay him. The one way a woman could benefit a man that required no money and no commitment.

I lunged forward, throwing my arms out to wrap around his neck. I smacked him in the nose clumsily and he reeled back.

Maybe I was a little drunk.

"Oh please, Mr. Marston," I whispered, batting my best bedroom eyes at him, "I would be so grateful." My fingers slid up the back of his neck, into the hair at his nape. It was surprisingly soft. I leaned into him.

The bartender snorted.

Jack peeled my arms from his neck.

"I'm going to assume you're drunk," he said. "Let's cut her off," he said to the bartender, who snorted again.

"Jack," I breathed, wrapping my fingers around his hands as he tried to dislodge me, "I need you."

His eyes went to mine, darting back and forth. His face was stoically frozen, but I saw some sort of flicker in them.

"Annabelle!" a booming voice called. I leaned away from Jack, turning to the booming voice.

The saloon owner, Stanley Deaton, was holding his arms out as if asking for a hug. I fell into them excitedly.

"Stanley! Why, it's so nice to see you."

"Where have you been my loveliest of lovelies?" he asked, holding me out at arms length. "And what are you wearing? Is that blood?"

"Oh Stan - I've had an awful time. I can't work because I got injured and my house burned down so I haven't a thing to wear and- Oh! Do you remember that man, Ray Stinson?" I asked, changing the subject hurriedly just to keep him from asking questions.

"Of course not. I only remember the names of beautiful women, Annabelle Koen," he said with a booming laugh. He pulled me with him around the bar.

"Have a drink on me, for all the horrors you've been through."

"Thank you, Stan." He poured us two glasses of his best wine.

"It's the least your employer-,"

"Ah! So, would you be so kind as to give me something to wear?"

"You have clothes-,"

"Thank you so much, Stanley!" I practically yelled, to drown out his voice.

I saw Jack moving from the corner of my eye. He was pulling money out, paying the bill.

"Where are you going, Jack Marston?" I asked him.

"I think our time is up, Annabelle Koen," he said. "I've got to get going."

"Going where?" I asked. He gestured to the rooms. I was confused for a moment, until Stanley Deaton clapped him on the shoulder.

"Marston! I was wondering who owned that locked up room!" he boomed. "It's a pleasure to meet John's son. He stayed here for a bit of time. Bought that room for a fair price. What a nice man, such a shame about his death."

"Yeah," Jack said, looking away, "Well, I'm spending the night but I'm afraid that'll be all. I'll be gone in the morning."

"Wait Jack, we still need to talk!" I called. "What about taking me to Thieves Landing?"

He was about to speak, but Stanley spun me around with his huge and powerful hands. He leaned down and looked me squarely in the face, shaking a finger in it.

"You don't think about leaving me for the Dixie Rose now," he said, "You're my best whore."

I froze. I couldn't look at Jack. My cheeks burned with shame, and I was glad I heard Marston's boots clicking away from our shameful conversation. I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding, sighing, rolling my eyes to meet Stan's.

"You just blew my cover."

"What?"

I looked at my feet. "He didn't know I was a prostitute."

"Don't tell me you're ashamed to be a whore!" Stanley boomed, for the whole room to hear. I inwardly groaned. My pride died in Armadillo, and my ego was soon joining it.

"No, Stanley," I sighed.

"You're the best whore around!"

"I have to leave here, Stan. That man, Ray Stinson-,"

"Bobby, how much did we make?" Stanley asked the bartender, cutting me off in the way he usually does when he loses interest in a conversation. I prodded his arm, bringing his attention back to me.

"Ray Stinson tried to kidnap me, almost had me killed. He wants me dead."

"Annabelle that sounds all so dreadful. Why don't you spend the night here where it's safe? Stay in Mary's room. We could make double the money if we offer two women for the price of one."

"But Stan, I was shot. I can't work."

"Were you shot in the vagina? Otherwise, I don't see why you can't work."

"Stan," I groaned. He frowned at me.

"I'm sorry baby, but we need the money."

"I...!" I was at a loss of words.

"Go to Mary. Get dressed. And start selling those tits," he called, giving me a shove towards Mary's room.

Twenty minutes later I was dressed in my corset, heels, stockings and garters. My hair was done, spilling over my shoulders in a wave of black, and my makeup wad done up. The entire time I was being prepared by one of the girls, all I could think of was how embarrassed I'd be if I ever saw Jack again.

I decided to give up on ever hoping he would take me to Thieves Landing. I'd just have to get there on my own. I could sell the Scratching Post, and maybe save up enough for the ride to Thieves Landing.

I sighed.

It was well into the night when Mary caught my hand and gave it a shake.

"We have a shared customer, sugarpie," she said. I inhaled deeply. With her words, it felt like a thousand pounds had dropped on my shoulders. It never used to feel so heavy, doing this line of work. Now all I wanted to do was cry, but why?

Maybe Stinson's idea of being a sex slave had turned me off from sex.

We went to Mary's room. The customer in question was named Shep Bundy, or that's what he said it was.

He was drunk off whiskey and high on something. He was talking incoherently about a man he had met that day, an "East man" with eyes like "lines".

"I'll be rich," he purred in my ear as I straddled him. Mary came up beside me, touching my hair, pulling it back. I leaned in to kiss Shep and his mouth tasted awful. He slobbered on my lips, bit them, and groped me like he didn't care. He'd be, what we ladies call, a rough lover The ones who'd rough you up if you didn't set the boundaries.

I pulled back. He grabbed my breasts, then leaned over to Mary and gave her a right nasty kiss too.

"Baby," I whispered, hands sliding down his chest. "Tell me more about how rich you'll be."

"This man, gave me...," he inhaled sharply when Mary's fingers prodded at his belt. "A treasure map. Oh, I'll be rich."

I paused, stared at him. Was he delusional or was he serious?

I helped Mary take off his belt. I slid his pants down past his knees. His hands went into my hair, knotting it up. Mary grabbed him, took him in her mouth. I pulled her hair back and kissed her on the temple, then looked Shep in the eyes.

"Tell me more, honey," I purred. And I wasn't being so innocent anymore.

His hands came up, stroking my cleavage.

"My map..." he said, giving his head a shake as if he couldn't think straight,

"What about your map, sugar? Where is it?" I kissed him, flicking my tongue into his mouth. It was such a wet kiss that when we separated, strings of saliva dragged out between us. I shivered with repulsion. Shep started moaning as Mary's head bobbed up and down faster.

"Oh baby, you're going to be some treasure hunter, huh?" I giggled. I leaned over and licked at him, too. Mine and Mary's tongues touched over his shaft. He gasped in delight.

"That's right," he breathed. I backed up, pulled his pants completely off. As I was tossing it away, I caught sight of a slip of old, browned and ripped paper poking out from his belt loop.

I looked at Shep. He hadn't noticed that I noticed.

"Tell us more," Mary whispered haughtily, coming up for air. Her hand rubbed him in slow, teasing jerks. His head lulled back on the bed.

"You're a mighty impressive man," I joined in, "I can't believe we get to fuck a future millionaire."

"Yes," Mary purred. She stood up and began untying her corset and stockings.

"And what else, baby?" I asked him.

"What else is there?" he countered.

"It's just so interesting to hear," I explained. Then Mary straddled him, took him quickly inside her. Shep moaned in pleasure, hands coming up to her breasts as she bounced and slid on him.

"I'm undressing," I announced, though neither of them paid me any attention. I stumbled backwards and bent over to roll my stockings down, and as I reached the floor I grabbed for the brown paper. It slid out easily from his pants. The sounds Mary was making was enough to cover the rustle of the paper as I stashed it in my stocking.

After Shep had paid us his dues he drifted off to sleep in Mary's arms. Sometimes our customers pay a little extra for that luxury. I left quickly to avoid Shep's detection of the missing map. I went to Mary's room and paced in front of her mirror.

The map pointed to the Great Plains northeast of here. I couldn't make it to Thieves Landing alone. I had no money for a carriage, nor any money to pay anyone to accompany me.

However I did have a treasure map now, which might be enticing enough to convince Jack to accompany me. It was definitely enticing enough to convince someone to accompany me, but they wouldn't be Jack Marston. I wanted Jack Marston specifically. I trusted his abilities. He'd already saved my life multiple times. The Marston name had proven itself to me. I wanted Jack.

I inhaled.

But I had lied to him.

I exhaled.

I exited Mary's room and went for Jack's. His was the 'locked room' us girls had joked about back when times were easier on me. The 'locked room', we'd say, belonged to a millionaire. A handsome one. A bachelor looking for a beautiful wife.

I knocked. No answer. I tried the door handle and it popped open, revealing darkness. The light from the hallway spilled into his room. I took a step in and the floorboards creaked.

I heard a gun click.

I stopped.

"Marston," I hissed into the darkness.

"Annabelle," he replied with a tired sigh. "I thought it was someone else." I could see his silhouette move in the dark. He tucked the gun back under his pillow.

I stood there awkwardly, my hands fumbling over themselves.

"Look, I'm sorry I lied to you about being a-,"

"Don't apologize. I thought I told you to never do that again?"

"I want to."

"You don't have to because you did nothing to hurt me."

"I'm just sorry I lied. I should have been honest. But you accused me of being a whore that slept with your father and I couldn't bare the idea-,"

"Annabelle." I stopped. "I don't care enough about you to give up my sleep for this. I don't care. Do you get it? I don't fucking care."

"You will," I said. "I was only apologizing to get the awkwardness out of the way." I closed the door. Then I went to the candle-holder and lit it with the matches that lay there beside it.

He sighed irritably when the room filed with light. Tentatively I turned and caught him sitting upright in bed without a shirt or a hat and I felt my cheeks warm. His hair was a mess about his forehead, falling into his eyes and sticking up in odd ways. He was blinking the sleep from his eyes, squinting against the light. And his body...

I glanced away. My heart had somehow leapt into my throat and was pounding so hard I was afraid it would burst.

"I need to talk to you about what I mentioned before," I said.

"Ugh" he sighed. "I can't take you there."

"Why not?" I asked.

"There's nothing in it for me-,"

"Aha!" I exclaimed, and leaned over to pull the map from my stocking. When I stood, I saw his eyes flick hurriedly from my own chest back up to my eyes. The room was still for a moment. I knew he was looking. And he knew I knew. Neither of us said a thing. Why was the air so still? Why was my heart pounding?

He was half naked... Heck, he might be fully naked under those sheets. And I was dressed like a girl asking for sex usually was. And it was the middle of the night. And why did it feel so strange? Because he wasn't like other men? Because he didn't want to have sex with me? Because even though many men are cruel, he was cruel in a way that got under my skin?

I took a step back, feeling way too close to him for my own good, and bumped into the mirror.

"Look at this," I said, tossing it onto the bed. He picked it up and raked over it.

"The Broken Tree? The Great Plains?" he read. His face went still. His eyes glazed over. Then he held the map out as if I should take it.

"So if I take you to Thieves Landing, I get this?"

"Half of it," I said.

He paused.

"I can guarantee this is a legitimate map," I lied. "I can guarantee we'll be rich."

"Really."

"It comes from a trusted source. A good friend."

"And he just gave it to you?"

I paused.

"I need to start a new life," I continued. "He understood how important it was. I wasn't lying when I said it was a matter of life and death for me. Some men are after me. They want me dead, or kidnapped. You saw the proof of that. I need to leave Rathskeller Fork because they know I'm here. They know where to find me."

Jack regarded me critically, then he swung his legs out from beneath the sheets and my heart slowed a bit when I saw he was still wearing his pants.

"Promise me," he murmured. "Give me your word that you're not lying." He walked towards me until we were barely half a foot apart.

He stared at me with such intensity that I could not look away. Looking away might mean giving away that I was lying. Was that his game? Was that why he was looking at me with such an electric stare? I held out my hand. His own hand swallowed my dainty one up. I shook it curtly, but our gazes never dropped.

"You have my word, Marston," I bluffed coolly.

"Then I'll do it."