Arabella

About a half hour later, once again the curtain on the stage opened and the girls began the same routine as they had done the first time. Now in St. Louis, when the second act started, the girls became more brazen. The dresses became shorter and the routines more risque. But not these girls. They did the very same act with the very same dresses. Even they looked as bored as I felt. And so was one of the men in the middle of the bar. He stood and yelled for the girls to do something different. Immediately Arabella glared at him and he sat down, although not for long. About ten minutes later, he again stood and cursed at the girls. But this time Arabella had made her way to him and as he stood on the chair and yelled at them, she reached between his legs and grabbed his gun belt. She yanked hard back toward herself causing the man to fall off the chair and hit his face square on the hard wooden table. The whole place erupted in laughter. Even the dancing girls stopped their routines and cupped their hands over their mouths and laughed. The piano player stopped playing and just about fell to the floor laughing. The man, bleeding and dazed, lying on the floor holding his face in one hand and his crotch in the other, turned to look up at Arabella. "Dammit, Jed! You do this every time the girls come here! How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?" she said, looking down at him. Jed got up slowly, grabbed his hat and staggered out of the bar, in pain and embarrassed. The whole place came alive again as they cheered Arabella. I was clapping myself, which is rare for me.

It grew dark outside as the girls finished their last show of the night. Arabella had not been back near me again that evening. The bar began thinning out right after the girls finished their show. I was about ready to turn in myself when Arabella came over to me and asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. I took her up on her offer as I had finished the bottle of whiskey except for the two glasses she had. I thought it would be a good idea to knock the haze from my own head. She went to the barkeep and he filled a pot and put it on the fire. The place was almost totally empty by the time the coffee was done. Even the poker players had left, leaving only four or five customers. I watched as Arabella grabbed two cups from the back of the bar and then the pot and motioned for me to join her at a table. I had not moved from my spot all evening and found my legs a bit wobbly as I made my way to the table in the corner near the piano.

Arabella poured the coffee into the blue ceramic cups. The warmth of them felt good in my hands. Arabella and I talked for a long time. She told me about how her husband had bought the bar right after the war and how he had died defending her from the outlaws. "Well, he surely taught you well, judging from old Jed." I remarked causing her to laugh. "Well, he's really not that bad. Just when he gets drunk. He'll be in tomorrow to apologize to me." she explained. "That's if he can walk, Miss Arabella." I said laughing. "Please call me Belle. All my friends call me Belle." "Well, Belle, You sure know how to handle yourself. I quit wondering how you had the guts to walk up to me and take some whiskey. Not many would do that." I said. "I imagine that's so, being as big and mean looking as you are, but I knew better." she said. I looked at her quizzically. "Oh, you did?" I said. "You have gentle eyes." she explained.

We talked for what seemed hours. It was only when the barkeep said that he was leaving that I realized that the three of us were the only ones left in the bar. I had been so engrossed in her words that I didn't even notice that all of the remaining customers had left and the doors to the bar were shut. I pulled my watch from my pocket. "It's after ten. I gotta be getting to my room. The Chinaman is delivering my laundry at six in the morning." I explained to my sweet host. "It's a shame you can't stay for a while, Jim. I think it's going to be a nice week end. As she said this, she put her hands around mine as I held my coffee cup. Her hands were gentle on mine, almost caressing them. Although I tried to fight it off, I found myself strangely aroused by her touch and her statement. I excused myself and stood beside the table. Suddenly shy, I backed away from Belle and turned and climbed the steps to go to my room. I locked the door behind me and lay on the bed. I cursed myself for not taking charge as I normally did in that situation. Strangely I couldn't muster the guts to try to have my way with Belle. I eased my self loathing with the fact that I really respected her. She was indeed a lady and not just a barmaid. I fought to go to sleep that night. It had to be well after midnight when I finally slept.

I awoke with a big head, and cursed myself for drinking almost a full bottle of whiskey the night before. I pulled my watch from my pocket. It was almost nine in the morning. I should have been two hours closer to California by now. Again I cursed myself and finally decided to stay in Kansas City another day. Hell, at least the company was good. I opened the door and found my laundry wrapped in paper laying on the floor in the hall. I tossed it on the bed, put on my hat and went to check out the bar and maybe get some breakfast. I hadn't eaten since the day before, and even then it was only jerky. As I reached the bar, a man I had not seen was there cooking over the fire. "Ah, you must be the man in room six, right?" he asked. I mumbled something about him being correct and asked if he had any coffee. He pulled a pot from the fire and poured a cup and set it in front of me. "You want some hash?" he asked. I drew from the cup. The coffee was strong, just the way I liked it. "Yea, that sounds good." I said as I drew another mouthful of the hot brew. The man, John as I learned, scooped a plate full and sat it in front of me along with a wooden spoon. As I ate and drank more coffee, I realized that the doors were open and the bar seemed to be open but I was the only one there besides John. "Is it always like this in here in the morning?" I asked as I finished the hash. "Well, it was busy earlier. We usually get busy around five in the morning and normally it's like this by now." he explained. I had forgotten that it was now after nine in the morning. How much for breakfast, John?" I asked. "It's on me, Jim." he said. Just less I have to store for tomorrow.

I walked to the doorway. Belle had been right. It was a beautiful day. Not too hot and not a cloud in sight. I stepped from the bar into the late morning sunshine. I walked back into the bar and asked John what there was to do in Kansas City on a Saturday. I thought about Belle and what she might like to do as well. "Well, they have a rodeo out at the old Durham ranch north of town every Saturday." he said. I walked over to John. "Do you know what Miss Arabella likes to do when she's not bloodying up her customers?" I asked. John laughed. "Did Jed act up again last night?" he asked knowingly. I nodded and smiled. Well, when her man was still alive, she used to like to take a buggy ride once in a while, Why do you ask?" he said. I explained the night before and he got a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You were the man she was up all the way to ten o'clock last night talking to then?" he wondered. I confessed that I was."How'd you know about that?" I asked."News travels fast here. Especially about strangers." he explained. "I heard it from one of the guys at breakfast." I asked for another cup of coffee and John obliged me. "So do you think Miss Arabella would want to go on a buggy ride with me?" I asked as I sipped the strong brew. "I'm not sure, but maybe if you just set it up, it'll force her hand." he said. I figured that I had better go let the smithy know I was staying another day anyway so I thought I would see if they had a buggy I could rent for the day.

I walked to the stables. The smithy was busy at the anvil as he was the day before. I explained that I would be staying another day and asked if he had a buggy for rent. He said that he did and motioned to a really nice covered buggy in one of the stalls. I told him that Runt could pull it if he had the rigging and he stopped pounding long enough to fetch the rigging from over a short wall. I paid him for the rental and for another day of caring for Runt. I hitched Runt to the buggy and pulled it out of the stable and rode over to the saloon. I set the brake and walked into the saloon. Belle was sitting at a table near the bar sipping on coffee and eating a plate of hash. She greeted me with a big smile and invited me to sit with her. I leaned over the bar and asked John if he had said anything to Belle. He shook his head silently and smiled at me.

Belle was in a beautiful yellow dress. It had a big bow on the front which drew it tight to her ample bosom. Her cleavage was even more apparent than the night before. Her face, devoid of any powder or rouge, was even more radiant than the previous night. Her nails, still painted brightly red, slowly revolved around the coffee cup sensuously. I sat across from her. "How did you sleep, Jim?" she asked between sips. I smiled, wondering if I should be honest. "It was a bit hard getting there, but when it came it was good." I decided to be honest. "I see that you decided to stay another day. I must say I'm pleased." she said smiling. "Well, to be honest, I slept in this morning. It was nine o'clock when I got out of bed. I figured I might as well stay another day since I had lost three hours of traveling time." Belle finished her coffee. Anyway, Belle. I rented a buggy for the day and I was wondering if you would accompany me on a ride into the country?" I asked.

I watched a tear come to her eye. "Why, I haven't been on a buggy ride since my husband died. How did you know I liked going on buggy rides?" she wondered. I wasn't going to tell her but my glance toward John gave away my secret. Belle looked at John and smiled. "Well, Mr. Worrell, I would love to go on a buggy ride with you. It has been over two years since I have been out in the country and I couldn't think of a nicer gentleman to take me." she said, almost coyly. She wiped the tear from her eye and I got up and offered her my hand. Belle lay her hand in mine and stood. She walked beside me, not letting go of my hand. I helped her into the buggy. When I walked around and climbed into the buggy, Belle noticed Runt. "That's not one of Cappy's horses. Is that your Morgan?" she asked. ""Yea, that's 'Runt'." I said. Belle laughed. "That's kind of like calling you 'Tiny' isn't it?" she said laughing. I grabbed the reigns and slapped them gently on Runt's hindquarters. He came to life slowly and we started north out if town.

Chapter Three

We were barely out of town when we started to get to know one another better. I explained about my time in the Great War and how I had gotten to St. Louis from my home in Pennsylvania. I told her about my job on the river boats and about how the dancing girls were different there than in Kansas City or even Wichita. She told me how her husband had died defending her from the Indians and explained why she had gotten so emotional when I asked her to come along on the buggy ride. We were getting along nicely when we came to a clearing with a large apple tree right in the center. I stopped right next to the tree and helped Belle down from the buggy. I grabbed my blanket out of my pack and spread it down under the tall, shady tree. I picked a couple of ripe apples and handed her one. It was sweet and crisp.

"So what made you keep the saloon open after your man died, Belle?" I wondered. "Well, I really didn't have anywhere to go and I had a roof over my head and I was making money so I figured that I might as well keep the place. It was hard at first. Dealing with the drunks was the hardest. Then there was a supply problem I had to deal with. The distilleries wouldn't sell to a woman. My brother John started working with me and I kind of let him order the hard stuff, just so I can have it." she explained. "Oh, John is your brother?" I asked. Belle told me that he was. "He's pretty nice. He gave me breakfast for free this morning. Coffee too!" I said. "Yes, I know, I told him to. I figured you'd have a big head from the whiskey last night. I left him a message before I turned in last night." she explained. "So that's how he knew I was in room six." I said. "I told him to look for a big, rugged-looking man with a scar on his face." she said. "Yep! That about describes me, alright!"

"How'd you get the scar, John?" she wondered. "It's a funny thing, really. As many bullets and balls that were flying in the air in the war, I got this from a falling tree branch." I explained. "I was hunkered down behind a tree in Manasas, Virginia. The rebels were retreating, what there were left of them. I stood up after the sergeant gave the all clear and I heard a shot ring out. It was one of the greenhorns. He was so nervous that he pulled the trigger on his colt and it shaved off the branch right above me. It came down and smacked me right on the face. Put me out of circulation for a week. Still can't see too well out of my left eye." I explained at length. "Well, the doc did a good job of closing it. I've seen smaller scars looking worse." she said.

"It was the company doc. He'd amputate a leg before trying to get the metal out of it, but I made sure he did my face good." I said. "It's not like I was anything to look at anyway. But between the scar and my size, I tend to scare a lot of people." Belle looked me dead in the eye. "Well, you don't scare me. Jim Worrell. And I'm kind of fond of your face too." she said. She reached over and grasped my hand. "Well, Miss Belle, I'm kind of fond of your's too." I replied as I raised her hand and kissed it. "But I have to ask you something." Not waiting for her permission, I dove right in. "What did you mean when you said I had 'kind eyes" last night?" "Well, Jim, when a man looks at another man they don't look at his eyes. When they look at you, they see a huge man. One who looks like he can handle himself. One who has seen many fights and probably won them all. The scar adds to that. That's probably why the women don't want to get near you either. Nor the children. My Mama taught me to look into a mans eyes to get a real feel into what kind of man he is. And even though you have this tough exterior, these calloused hands and that scar on your face, your eyes are gentle. They tell me that the man inside is really nothing like the man on the outside."

I sat back and thought of what she had told me. She was right, of course, but I wondered why she was the first woman to see it? What made her so different? These were questions left unasked. In truth, I didn't want to know. And even though I had been with my share of women, women quite more worldly than herself, I found myself wanting to stay near her. And this was what confounded me more than anything. I took the last bite of the apple and threw the core at Runt. "Well, Belle, I have to say that you are some different kind of woman. So how come some lucky man hasn't snatched you up?" I asked. "Well, maybe I haven't let them. Maybe the right one hasn't come along. Hell, maybe they're as scared of me as they are of you! I don't know." she said, laughing out loud. "Well, I'd be scared of you too if you jerked me like you did old Jed last night!" I retorted. Belle smiled and laughed again. "He'll be talking funny for a week!" I said. Sometimes you just gotta get a man's attention before he'll listen to you!" she said as she made a jerking motion similar to the one she made on Jed the night before. "Well, Miss Belle, you have my attention. I watched as she turned a little flush in her cheeks. Still holding my hand, she leaned toward me. I watched as she closed her eyes as her face neared mine. She reached out with her other hand and placed it on the back of my neck and drew me to her. Our lips met slowly and softly. I felt a stirring that had been long dormant. I raised my hand and touched her cheek. If I had ever had a more perfect kiss, I couldn't remember. It had just the right touch. It was just the right length. And I thought it served exactly the purpose she had intended.

Belle had brought the boy out in me. My thoughts turned to those of her petticoat and of loosening her dress. They turned to lustful wishes that I hadn't felt in years. I had planned on taking her right there. But Belle had other plans. "Well, john," she said as she looked me right in the eyes. "We had better start heading back to town. I have a saloon to run, you know." Slightly disappointed, I righted myself and stood and offered her my hand. She helped me dust off the blanket and roll it back up. I helped her back into the buggy and I turned Runt and we headed back to town. As the buildings of Kansas City came into view, so did the town folk. Belle was well liked in her town. Many people and children alike waved and smiled at her as we passed. I'm sure that most also wondered who I was because I had begun tipping my hat to the people and smiling at the children. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to keep up my 'tough guy" image around her. It didn't really matter anymore. She knew the truth and that was all I seemed to care about.

When we pulled up in front of the saloon, and Belle had gotten out of the buggy she thanked me for a very enlightening day and asked me if I were going to stop by this evening. I told her I wouldn't miss it for the world. I tipped my hat as I coaxed Runt to head out. After dropping Runt and the buggy at the livery stable, I walked back to the saloon. John was still there and I pulled up beside him and asked for a beer. "I hear you're Belle's brother." I asked. "Yep. Have been all my life!" he said jokingly. "And you made quite an impression on her, I can tell you that! She seemed like she was floating on air! She didn't even say 'hi' back to me before she went upstairs." he said. I leaned toward him slightly. "She made a hell of an impression on me too!" I confided. He looked at me as if I had been intimate with her. He didn't seem to like what I had implied. I felt no need to have him thinking what he probably was thinking. "No, John, not like that." I said. "She's just a nice woman. I haven't met many like her." John seemed to understand what I was trying to tell him. He handed me the glass and smiled. "She deserves a nice man too."

I had a bit of time to kill, so I went out exploring. I passed houses and businesses. I walked by a church with a graveyard on the side. That was right across the street from the undertakers place. I walked out to where someone was raising a building. It was framed but had little else done. A man was pulling planks up to the roof using a pulley and a rope pulled by a horse. I stopped to watch mostly because I rarely had seen how buildings went up. I noticed that the horse was straining to pull the planks and thought that Runt would have no trouble doing it. Then I saw why the horse was having so much trouble. The rope broke and the horse stumbled forward. The planks fell in a heap and a bang. I thought that they might have overloaded the rope. Then I heard someone yelling that someone was under the fallen planks. I ran over and started tossing the planks off of the man. There were nearly fifty of them and the man they had fallen on was out cold and bleeding like a sieve from a wound on his head. I pulled the last plank from him and grabbed my kerchief and put it on the deep gash and held it there. I had learned this from my service in the war. "You got a doc in this town?" I yelled to a boy nearby. He didn't answer and just stood there stiff as one of the planks I had just pulled from the man.

Someone yelled to get the doc and came beside me to help. "That is the boy's father." the man said as he knelt beside me. The man had not moved but was moaning so he was at least still alive. A crowd had formed and I heard someone say to let the doc in. Soon an old white-haired man knelt beside me and asked me what I thought I was doing. "I'm holding something on his head so he don't bleed to death! What the hell do you think I'm doing?" I said angrily. "Let me see it. Move your hand a minute, Mister." the doc said. I moved my hand and my kerchief. "The doc looked at the man's wound and said that it must have been a glancing blow or he would be dead from those planks falling on him. "Looks like he just got scalped a bit." he said. I got to get him to my office so I can get him stitched up. Can you help me get him over there." the doc asked. "Hold this on his head." I said to the doc as I handed him the bloody kerchief. As he did, I picked up the man and carried him the nearly 200 yards to the doc's office. I laid him on the table and the doc thanked me and told me he was sorry for what he had said.