Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
In Beaver Springs, the town’s saloon had been tucked away in the less reputable part of the settlement, but while Three Stones prided itself on its tough frontier justice, impropriety didn’t seem to affect its conscience nearly as much. Women were few and far between, and Ned had only spotted one in the back of the shop, sweeping the floors in preparation for closure, but as he neared the very middle of town, several well-lit buildings that seemed way grander than all the others combined invited him with their noise. Here, with forearms braced against the porches and colorful finery showcasing pale, plump skin, resided the womenfolk.
The red glow of the lanterns hung at Red Lily’s porch hid the imperfections in their faces. But Ned had no doubt that young or old, big or small, even a woman with an O’Leary nose would have gotten customers here.
“Is your hair red everywhere, partner?” One of them giggled and opened a scarlet paper fan trimmed with black lace. She tapped it against a pink scar on her cheekbone, but while it was meant to remind Ned that she was available, were he to want her, all he could think of was the mark on Cole’s cheek—much older than hers but identical.
Ned’s lips parted, and for a moment he forgot why he was here in the first place, but then the batwing doors to the saloon swung open with force and a gray-haired man dropped face-first to the wooden porch.
Scotch. Of course.
“Get out of my establishment,” a woman roared, stepping outside with a man so tall and so big he surely weighed more than Ned and Cole combined. “We have clean girls here, as everyone here can attest. Maybe one of the women working out of town will agree to have you, perverted old wretch!”
Her statement was met with whistles and clapping of both the men and whores gathered in the saloons and card houses around the brothel. The madam nodded, making the long ostrich feather stuck in the bundle of hair at her nape shake. She then grabbed the folds of her dress, which was more elaborately adorned with lace than any Ned had ever seen, and curtseyed, as if she were the star on the most prestigious stage in all of town.
“Hey Mildred, what did he do?” shouted an older man, squeezing the waist of a girl of rather average features, but whose bosom was so immense the bodice barely kept it in.
Ned could have helped Scotch up, but why waste this opportunity to witness the bastard humiliating himself by scrambling to his feet while the whole town watched? He backed into the shadow of a gunsmith’s store and lit himself a cigarette to enjoy the entertainment while it lasted.
“I did nothing!” Scotch yelled, swaying from side to side when he faced the madam. “I wanted to pay like any other man with a stiff rod to be serviced. That’s what you whores are here for!”
A window in the first floor opened and a woman covering her naked breasts with a sheet leaned out. “Dirty old bastard wouldn’t let me inspect his pecker before the deed and I wasn’t having it!”
A man stepped into the street with the confidence of the only rooster in a chicken coop. “And then she’d service someone else and give him whatever warts you’re hiding. The girls in the Red Lily are too good for you, so get your grimy ass outta my town. I strongly suggest you do as I say, or there’ll be consequences.”
Unlike most of the fellows making up the town’s population, he was clean-shaven, and possibly bald under the tan hat, which appeared reddish in the glow of the brothel’s lanterns. Dressed better than most of the folk here too, in a suit that suggested he didn’t mine for a living. And while he hadn’t reached to his hip, there was something about his stance that reminded Ned of Cole so vividly it became clear he was ready to draw if the brawler did so first.
The madam stepped forward, and as her face came into the bright light hung in front of the gunsmith’s, Ned realized that the lushness of her lips was due to paint rather than youth. Not close enough to see it in much detail, he deduced that the whiteness of her complexion wasn’t natural either.
“You heard Kate. Dear gentlemen, we aim to protect you from lowlifes like this one,” she declared, stepping off the porch to gesture Scotch’s way. The good doctor visits each of my girls regularly, and do the women on the edge of town take the same care? I don’t think so. So if you don’t want to carry the clap back to your wives and sweethearts, think twice before you choose to get stingy. What’s worth more than the health of your family?”