CHAPTER ELEVEN
It wasn't until the following month that Jorgen discovered Hans had used his account at the tailors to obtain his new clothes. Pleased that his son had made some effort with his appearance, he hadn't bothered to question him about his resources, assuming he must have spent some of his pay from the farm which he had somehow saved. Jorgen happened to visit the tailors himself to order a new coat and one of the proprietors reminded him uncomfortably that his balance was overdue. He apologised and paid immediately, then hurried home afterwards to demand Hans reimburse him and refrain from using his name to obtain credit in the future.
"Sorry, Father," Hans shrugged. He went up to his room, pulled out the small box from beneath his bed where he kept his poker winnings and counted out forty-three dollars. The box was overflowing with money by now and he certainly wasn't going to miss it. He returned downstairs and handed over the cash.
"Where did you get this?" Jorgen asked, eyes widening.
"I earned it." Hans refused to say any more, despite his father's efforts to extract a proper answer from him.
Having realised that he could earn much more playing poker than working, Hans ceased looking for work, deciding that there was no point doing something you didn't like and having to answer to someone else for a pittance if you could play cards and be your own boss. He continued in the same vein until he reached sixteen, always keeping to opponents of a similar age rather than involve himself with more seasoned poker players. He had no doubt that he could beat them too, but would run more of a risk of his father finding out what he was doing.
In the meantime, he began to spend more time at Billy's house again when his friend was home from the farm and sometimes when he wasn't. Miss Lillian was always welcoming and usually gave him something to eat and entertained him with amusing stories from the saloon. Since reaching around twelve years old Hans had developed something of a crush on Miss Lillian, which only increased as he got older, but he would never have dared say anything to her, even considering her occupation. He would have been mortified to admit that he dreamed of stroking her beautiful black hair and touching the pale mounds of her breasts where they were visible above the low necks of her dresses, and more.
He continued to worship her from afar and live on fantasies until he decided it was high time he took the bull by the horns and went to the saloon. Billy had been telling him about his antics there for the past couple of years and it was only fear of being thrown out for being too young that had kept Hans away from the place. However, he decided not to tell Billy what he was planning. He was nervous enough about it and reasoned that if he ended up not going through with it, he would feel stupid if Billy was expecting to hear him boast. He went on a Monday night, knowing it was Miss Lillian's night off. He would feel uncomfortable going and paying for a woman with her there seeing what he was up to.
Hans hovered outside the saloon for perhaps fifteen minutes before he plucked up the courage to go in. Finally he took a deep breath and pushed through the swing doors, glancing around him. The place was full of men drinking, some playing poker, one or two enjoying the company of the saloon girls. He headed towards the bar a little self-consciously, wondering if Red Burrows, the barkeep, would even serve him a drink.
"Well, what we got here?" the burly man said, grinning at him as he reached the counter. "Bit young to be drinkin', ain't ya?"
"I'm old enough," Hans said gruffly.
"Well, so long as ya got the money, ya get a drink," Red shrugged.
Hans placed a coin on the counter and the man picked up a bottle, poured a measure of whiskey and pushed the glass towards him. Hans threw the contents of the glass down his throat in one gulp, wanting to look as if he was used to drinking. The whiskey burned its way down his throat to his stomach and he ground his teeth together, stopping himself from gasping and coughing with difficulty although his eyes watered just a touch. The drink left a delicious heat in his guts and a smooth slightly sweet taste in his mouth. He decided he could get used to it quite easily.
The barkeep grinned at him and moved away to serve another customer and Hans looked around him again, wondering whether to have another drink. He had no idea how to go about getting one of the women to entertain him. Did one speak to them direct or ask Red? He leaned on the bar and waited for the man to come back towards him, his heart thumping.
"Want another?" the man offered, still holding the bottle of whiskey.
"I…uh…I want a woman," Hans said.
"How old are ya?" Red asked, beginning to grin.
"Eighteen," lied Hans. He knew he could get away with that. He was already six feet tall and his voice had recently deepened.
"Hey, Joe," the barkeep said to one of a group of men further down the bar. The whole group turned to look. "This kid here wants a woman; whaddya reckon?"
"First time, is it?" one of them grinned and the others all laughed loudly.
Hans wanted to turn and walk out as quickly as possible, but he stayed where he was determinedly. He didn't often feel intimidated, but this was one of those times. He took another look around him, wondering where the women were. He could see a blonde over to the left chatting to one of the other customers. He turned back towards Red, his mouth dry, unsure of what to say or do next. Then a moment later a hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder from behind and Lillian appeared beside him.
"Leave him alone, Red, what's wrong with ya?" she said to the barkeep. "Come on, honey." She grasped Hans by the hand now and began to lead him away from the bar. "What're ya doin' in here?" she asked. "Billy put ya up to it?"
"No," said Hans. "He don't know I'm here. I didn't know you'd be here either, I thought it was yer night off."
Lillian smiled and shook her head. "I'm coverin' for one of the girls who's sick. So yer after a woman tonight?"
"I guess."
Lillian led Hans through a door at the back of the room and then propped it open with her foot, pointing back into the crowded bar.
"There's three of 'em to choose from," she said, beginning to point. "The blonde over there is Cassie."
Hans looked in the direction she pointed. Cassie was blonde and brassy, dressed in blue and with lips painted the colour of plums.
"The redhead is Rebecca," went on Lillian. Rebecca had hair the colour of carrots and a face full of freckles.
"And Jenny." The last girl was blonde too, but petite and coy-looking - she was the one Hans had seen from the bar.
"Um…" Hans had never felt so uncomfortable in his life and was briefly reminded of the cattle market he had occasionally attended with Mr Hawkins. His heart hammered, his mouth was dry and his palms felt damp.
"I'd rather have you!" he blurted out and then much to his annoyance felt his face turning red. He felt about nine years old again, just like when he'd asked her to help him read Nana's letter. "Sorry, Miss Lillian," he muttered, staring down at his boots.
"Don't be sorry," Lillian said. "Yer a man now. Pick what pleases ya the most."
Hans looked up again, utterly amazed. He'd never imagined he could get close to her, whether he paid or not. She was thirty-two now, but Hans doubted she would ever lose her looks or seem old. To him she was the most attractive woman in Denver.
"I always thought ya was beautiful, Miss Lillian," he said. "More than any woman I ever saw."
"Well, thank you, Hans," Lillian said softly. "But ya can drop the 'miss'. It's just Lillian. You ain't a kid no more. Come with me." She slid her hand into his again and drew him away from the door, leading him down the dimly lit corridor to an open door at the end. The room was a bedroom decorated in soft lilacs and deep violets. Hans took a deep breath and followed Lillian into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.
Perhaps half an hour later, Hans wandered out of the bar and headed slowly for home, a grin on his face which he doubted he would be able to wipe off for quite some time. He didn't think he would sleep either, although he made the pretence of going up to his room to bed when he reached the house. He lay on top of the bed covers, still dressed, going over and over in his head what had happened and thinking to himself that he had better not go boasting to Billy now - best leave it until he had been with one of the other saloon girls.
At some point he must have drifted into sleep and he woke again early, wondering if he had dreamed it or if he'd really been with Lillian a few hours before. Grinning, he took a bath, put on some fresh clothes and went down for breakfast. Then he went out looking for someone to play poker with.
By the end of the day, Hans had doubled his money as he often did and decided to head for the cafe to get himself a meal rather than go home for dinner. He was just passing the end of the street down which Lillian and Billy lived when he ran into Billy, apparently on his way out again after returning from the farm. Hans halted and turned towards him.
"Hey, Billy." The response wasn't at all what he expected.
"Ya went with my Ma?" Billy's face was dark with fury, his eyes flashing and his fists clenched.
"Uhh..." Hans wasn't sure what to say. There had been a kind of unspoken agreement that neither he nor Lillian would ever mention what happened to Billy, and yet somehow he knew. "I didn't think she was gonna say nothin'," he said warily.
"She didn't, Cassie, one of the other girls told me!" Billy lunged forward suddenly and his fist slammed into Hans' jaw. Hans stumbled backwards, only just managing to stay on his feet. "I can't believe ya did that!" Billy all but screamed.
Hans took another step away, reluctant to fight back. "I didn't even know she was workin', I was gonna go to one of the others. Lillian came to me," he babbled. "I mean, she is a whore…." He immediately bit his tongue after the last few words.
"She practically treated ya like a son since you was six!" yelled Billy. "Show some respect!" He threw another punch and hit Hans in the other side of the jaw, then followed it up with a fist to the stomach. Hans bent over, winded, holding a hand up in front of his face to block any other punches, but still not retaliating.
"I do respect her," he panted. "More than anyone I know."
"Then you stay away from her!" snarled Billy, stepping forward again and shoving Hans hard, causing him to stumble and sit down suddenly in the dirt. Furious, Billy kicked out at his former friend, catching him hard in the face with the toe of his boot. Hans rolled onto his side, groaning and covering his face with both hands. The boot rammed into his chest and he began to choke, tasting blood and struggling to breathe.
"I'm sorry," he gasped.
"Ya will be if ya touch my ma again," Billy spat. "Stay away from me an' all. Or I'll kill ya, understand me?"
"Yeah," Hans groaned.
"Yer disgustin'!" Billy finished and charged off in the direction he had been going, leaving Hans crouching in the dirt by the wall which belonged to the first house in the street.
Hans stayed where he was for a few moments, trying to get his breath back, wiping blood off his face with his shirt sleeve and clutching his chest with one hand. He felt almost as if his ribs were crushing his lungs and the blood trickling down his throat threatened to make him vomit. Eventually he pulled himself to his feet, wondering how he was going to walk home without collapsing. He looked longingly down the street at Billy's house, knowing Lillian would be in there. It was fifty yards away and she wouldn't hesitate to take care of him, but he would never let her see him in that state, especially since she would find out Billy had caused his injuries. He turned away slowly and began to make his way home, ignoring the curious and horrified looks he received from passersby as they noticed the blood still oozing from his nose and mouth.
When he reached the house he was relieved to find that his father was out, but the housekeeper ran into him in the hallway before he could sneak upstairs.
"Oh my goodness! What on earth happened to you?" she exclaimed.
"Got in a fight," he said. "It's nothin'."
"It's not nothing! Have you seen yourself?" She grasped his arm and led him towards the kitchen. "Come with me, let's get you cleaned up before your father sees you."
"Where is he?" asked Hans.
"He had a client to see. He won't be back for a while yet."
Relieved, Hans sank onto one of the chairs by the kitchen table and closed his eyes while the housekeeper fetched a bowl of water and cloths to clean up his face.
"I should probably send for the doctor," she said as she washed the blood out of the cloth she had used.
"No! Don't do that, I'll be alright," Hans protested. "Nothin's broken. I just need to go to bed." He got up painfully and made his way upstairs, feeling sick and wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and forget about everything. His injuries would soon heal, but he knew his friendship with Billy wouldn't. That was gone forever.