El Paso Faleena

Firstly, let me express my gratitude for the invitation to participate in this event. It is an honour to be included.

Thanks also to my friend Randi for her excellent editing skills and guidance.

This is the second part of three stories based on the Marty Robbins trilogy of songs, "El Paso," "Feleena" and "El Paso City." Randi has written the first, Stev2244 the final part. The stories should be read in this order. Readers may find the other two stories here: https://www.literotica.com/s/El-Paso"El Paso and here, http://www.literotica.com/s/El-Paso-City"El Paso City

*****

Growing up in New Mexico was hard enough. Being a Mexican and a girl, made it worse. My parents were farmers. Hah, farmers, yeah right. Sand movers, really. Our farm wasn't much more than that, just sand... The crops we harvested were never enough. The cruel forces of nature, extreme heat, negligible rainfall. One step away from starvation.

The only way to sustain our crops was to carry water from our well in buckets. That was how I filled my days, carrying water back and forth to feed the crops, digging out weeds, my hoe my only weapon. Our home was nothing more than a two-room adobe hut. There was no running water, no bathroom. We all slept in the one room.

Mama worked cleaning in the nearby town of Cuervo. Town... it was nothing more than a group of houses, and the mission.

The American kids hated us, the boys constantly tormented me. They called me Poca, and Chola. I hated them, but mama made me go to the classes. She wanted more for me. She wanted me to be able to read and write, unlike her and papa.

While I was at the mission, the boys were always grabbing me, trying to catch me when I was alone.

When they were with their pals, they threw stones and spat on me. Alone, it was a different story.

My clothes were all used or Mama made them from scraps collected from the mission.

Father Nunes, the Padre, was okay. He was our teacher and looked after the mission.

As much as I hated the boys, I loved the learning, reading the books, seeing pictures of far away places. Anywhere away from this patch of dirt my parents loved so much.

I hated our patch of dirt and sand. I loved mis padres, but hated scraping around in the dirt. Working in the fields all day under the burning sun, watching the crops we planted with so much hope and love burn and wilt under the extreme heat, barely scraping by.

El padre, spoke in hushed spiritual tones of our bit of earth. "It is special, Muchacha, it provides for us, gives us shelter, food. It is everything. Here we are free."

I listened to him, never arguing. He rarely hit me, but he hated me criticizing our way of life. He grew up in Mexico, and came to America to escape the violence, and corruption. I was young, but even I could see he jumped out of the pan, into the fire.

Mexico might have been bad, but this was no better. The Americans hated us. They spat on us, called us names to our faces. My father turned the other cheek; that was his way. He believed in god, the Catholic priests ruled, as far as my father was concerned. The only time he hit me was to chastise me for taking the Lord's name in vain.

"Feleena, my angel, you must learn, we must adapt to the ways of the gringos. We have to do things their way."

"But Papa, they hate us."

"Only because they do not know us, my sweet child. They will come to understand we are no different, but it will take time."

"Papa, at the mission, they throw stones at me. I hate them."

Furious, he scalded me. "You must not hate, you must learn to accept."

It was clear that the boys wanted something from me as I matured into a teenage girl. Sex, that's what they wanted. In public, they spat at me, alone, they were all hands.

That's when I learned to fight. My punches were strong, and I learned quickly where their weak points were, and I wasn't afraid scratch out their eyes, or to kick their precious little cojones. They learned the hard way that I was not to be taken lightly.

All I wanted was to be left alone, be something other than a farmer's daughter. Scraping around in the desolate earth, trying to encourage something to grow. I may not have been a scholar, but I knew from the books I read that there were wonderful towns and cities, bright lights, beautiful clothes. I yearned for that, to be treated like a lady, not a Puta.

Young girls around town wanted nothing to do with the Mexican peon. From the whole town, I had one friend, Melissa. Her father worked for the railroad, and when I was at their house, I listened to him telling stories of wonderful towns. Melissa was fun; she loved to dress up and didn't mind sharing her clothes. When I stayed at her house, that's what we did, dressed up, made up stories about being princesses.

She was a wild child in many ways, she didn't mind the boys advances, which is why she was unpopular with the other girls. She let the boys kiss her, put their hands between her legs. She loved to tell me all about it, how it felt, and how much the boys liked her.

At night at home, listening to my parents in the bed across from me, I knew what they were doing, the sounds, the hushed moans of pleasure. Me, all I could do was dream about far away places, I lived in my little fantasy world where I was a lady, wore beautiful flowing gowns. That's all I wanted.

Melissa and I often played down by the railway tracks, in the old store rooms. It was there, watching the trains come and go, I hatched my plan. Collecting all my clothes, I sneaked out of the house, and hurried down to the old store room to wait.

The train arrived every night at about nine; it only stopped long enough to load cargo, there were no carriages. That's when I crawled out from my hiding place, and crept along the wagons. I found what could be a good hiding place, I climbed up onto a flat bed wagon covered by a big canvas sheet and slithered beneath it.

I listened as the workers walked by inspecting the wagons. The smell of their tobacco filtered under the cover as they banged the wheels looking for faults, or maybe to scare out hobos.

As the train shuddered, moving off, I thought about mi familia. I was sad, as would they be. They not only lost their daughter, but a worker. They relied on me, needed me. It was going to be hard, for them, but harder for me. I left with nothing, aside from the few clothes I was able to cram in my little haversack. I had nothing. no money, no food, nothing.

I watched in awe as the countryside rolled past. The changing landscapes. Desert one minute, rolling pasture the next. The huge longhorn cattle feeding in the long grass beside the tracks. I knew we were heading west, but that was it. The moon shone brightly in a cloudless sky, illuminating the trees and buildings as the train clickety-clacked along the track.

I knew nothing, of where I was going; all I knew was if I followed my dream, I would get there.

I slept in short bursts, but I felt the train slowing down. Popping my head up, I saw we were pulling into a town. I could see the bright lights shining, and noises abounded. I listened to the workers unloading or loading, but panicked when I realized the carriage I was riding was going to be unloaded. With my heart beating faster than ever before, I scampered away using the shadows as my shield.

Hiding in the dark shadows, I sneaked into a building beside the siding. I waited and waited, my tummy doing flips. I wanted to get back on, but the guards and workers kept hanging around. Irritated, I anxiously watched as my chance vanished, and the train rolled away.

My journey was over before it started. I was stuck there. Defeated, I huddled against the building, my knees drawn up under my chin. The night air was cold. A new plan evolved: all I had to do was stay out of the way until my next ride rolled into town. All I needed was somewhere to sleep.

My tummy ached, sleep wasn't all I needed. I needed food. I crawled along the wall of the building into an alley. Using the shadows as my friend, I crept along the walls and popped my head out to stare into the dusty red street. Even at night time, the town was alive. Music played loudly, I could hear people singing from the cantina.

Again, I melded into the shadows, I worked from building to building until I was able to peek in the windows. I was shocked. The place was alive, vibrant. There were beautiful women, dancing and laughing. Men playing cards, a man playing piano.

As interesting as it was, my tummy reminded me I was here because I was hungry. I edged my way down a dark alley to the back of the building, hoping to find a way in. All I wanted was something to quell my grumbling tummy.

The kitchen was empty and the there was food on the table, I could see it sitting there, staring at me, waiting, expectantly. I felt my mouth salivating as the aromas filled my twitching nostrils... Pushing open the door, I crept in on my hands and knees. Filling a bag with bread and some meat, I quickly escaped with my booty. Back to the rickety buildings down by the stockyards, hoping to find somewhere to eat my prize, and sleep.

Ahhhh, it was heaven, the bread filling my aching tummy, the seasoned meat adding to the sensation. I found a pile of empty burlap sacks and fashioned a bed.

The morning dawned hot. Stashing my bags, I wandered the streets, amazed at the buildings, and the people I met. The women so beautiful, their dresses so glamorous, flowing and fetching. Their hair covered in delightful bonnets.

Their makeup so perfect, all I could do was admire. It filled me with envy, they were exactly what I wanted to be. The men's eyes followed them covetously, filled with desire.

All day, I sneaked around trying to stay out of the way. But my tummy pushed me back to the Cantina. Perhaps it was because the previous evening had been so easy... Peeking in the kitchen window, it smelled so good I loitered with nefarious intent. From outside of the window, I watched the food coming and going. Then, my moment arrived, the kitchen emptied. Taking my chance, I crept in, I started to fill my bag, I would need food for my journey as well. With my hands full of food, I was ready to make a dash for the door. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. My escape path was cut off by this tall beautiful woman. "What are you doing in here, muchacha?" She snarled angrily.

Caught red-handed, I peered into the eyes of a truly beautiful woman. "Sorry, I was hungry."

"You were going to steal from me?"

"I said I was sorry," I whimpered.

Kneeling down to peer into my eyes, she grabbed my wrists so I couldn't run. "Where do you live muchacha, who are your parents?"

Her questioning made me nervous, I just stood there fidgeting, staring at the floor.

"You are a runaway, no?"

With a nod of my head, I sulked shyly. Exasperated, she let go of my arm. "Sit at the table, I will get you some food. The kitchen hand walked in with the waitress and they were waved away as the woman made me something to eat.

"No lies, you little bobcat. Where are you from, and where are you going?"

With the delicious Tacos filling my tummy, I relayed my tale. "Aye Yai Yai" She muttered in despair. "Well, you can't go anywhere without money. You can start by paying for what you have already stolen. You can wash dishes, and stay here. There is a room upstairs, but there will be no more stealing." Her tone softened as she spoke. I sensed a warmth, compassion.

"Yes, Maria." I said jubilantly. This was no penance, it was what I had dreamed about. I could work and earn money. This offered me a new road, a chance to make those dreams a reality.

My room wasn't much, just big enough for a bed, but it was clean, and had linens... fresh and crisp. The next morning, Maria was already up when I made my way downstairs. She frowned as I appeared. "I let you sleep this morning, muchacha, but here we get up early, and I expect you to be first up."

"Si, Maria." I mumbled apologetically. "I will try harder, I promise."

She brightened, seeing my contrition. "Good, now eat up, we have lots to do this morning."

The kitchen filled quickly as all the girls who worked at the Cantina appeared. I was stunned by their beauty. They all looked so amazing, even in the morning, dressed in their frilly lingerie. I was in awe.

Maria chased them all away after breakfast. I was shown where all the dishes went, and I got my first lesson in my duties.

It was hard work, much harder than the farm, but I worked hard, I scrubbed the floors until my knuckles were bruised. I swept, I polished, I swear those plates had never been cleaner.

After I was finished, Maria grabbed me by the hand. "Come with me, muchacha." She was a force of nature, and there was no arguing with her. She dragged me up the street to the fabricante de vestidos. Inside, she quickly went through the racks of clothing to find something more befitting.

I couldn't believe it, as I glanced admiringly in the full length mirror at the new clothes. I had a dress, oh my god, I looked like a girl. I swirled and twirled in front of the mirror admiring my reflection. I had never felt so alive, new clothes, and they felt so fresh...

It was straight back to the cantina, and work. It was nice having new clothes, but now I would earn them. I helped in the kitchen and learned how to wait tables. The housework I was well familiar with. I could sweep up a storm.

It was tiring, but I didn't care, every time I saw my reflection in a mirror or window, I gasped; it wasn't just that it was so feminine, but they were new, and from a shop. I loved it.

All the girls made me feel welcome. I learned that they were bar girls, and their world was different from mine. Their role was to encourage the cowboys and railroad workers to spend money, buy drinks. Of course it didn't finish there, they sold their bodies. It shocked me, but I didn't care, they were fun to be around.

Maria tried to keep the girls in order when I was around, but they were rowdy and ribald. I enjoyed working at the cantina so much, I put aside my plans to go west. I earned money and learned about life. The girls all spoiled me; I became their pet project. They taught me how to do my own makeup, showed me how to curl my hair, get those gorgeous ringlets dangling down to frame my face.

It was heaven; every day was a new adventure, a new lesson. They were so open about sex, always joking about the men they saw: the good the bad, the in between.

One morning while helping sweep out the bar, the piano player was tinkling away on the piano. Over the previous weeks, I had heard the tune, the words sticking in my mind. As I swept, I started singing along. The piano player heard me and waved for me to come closer and sing properly. Glancing around, I saw nobody, so with the broom swooshing in time with the song, I stood beside him, singing louder than ever.

He encouraged me to sing another, showing me the words.

That was when Juanita came in, and she joined in. Having her beside us singing along gave me the courage to let go and sing properly. I had always loved to sing, but this was different...

Just then, Maria, walked in screaming. "Ay, caramba! What's going on."

Juanita glanced at her guiltily. "We were just having a little fun. This girl has a great voice. We should get her to sing at night."

Maria looked really upset. "Feleena, you get your ass back to work." She turned to Juanita and signaled her to follow her into the kitchen. I heard her screaming. "Don't you ever do that again. I don't want that girl getting stupid ideas. I don't want her to end up on her back like the rest of you Putas."

They yelled and swore at each other as Sam, the piano player grimaced. "Dagnabit, that woman has a tongue and a half."

As they fought, he said, "Come down to my place tomorrow, I would love to hear more of that voice."

Juanita stormed off upstairs in a real huff. "Sorry, muchacha, she's being a bitch."

Maria waved for me to go into the kitchen with her. "Feleena, I want you to promise to stay away from Juanita, and Sam. I want more than this for you."

"We were only singing, Maria," I said tearfully. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Feleena, that's how it starts; it happened to me. One minute you are just having fun, but then you end up selling your body. I had to work hard to get this place. All I want is for you to have a better life. You don't want to end up like that."

She pulled me into a hug before sending me off to finish my housework.

After that, all I could think about was singing and dancing. At night I worked in the kitchen, listening to the songs, and singing along.

Maria, seeing my joy, often sang along with me.

It was Addy, one of the bar girls, who said, "Feleena, she loves you. You're the daughter she never had. She's like that for all of us. She's our mother hen."

Whenever Maria was out on business, Sam, and Juanita dragged me into the bar, and I sang along, learning all his songs as Juanita stood guard.

Singing became an obsession. The more I sang, the more I wanted it. Juanita showed me the beauty of dance. She showed me how to sing while I danced, how to stare into a man's eyes and make him melt.

I tried to talk to Maria, but every time I tried, she became incensed and we argued bitterly. I worked there long enough to repay Maria for all her kindness. I hated leaving, but I wanted to sing. I suppose I had stars in my eyes.

This time, it was Juanita who pushed me. She had fallen in love with a cowboy and was heading out for Santa Fe. "Come with me, muchacha, we will have fun, the saloons there are bigger and always looking for singers and dancers."

In the dead of night, we headed northeast, following the Rio Grande. It was my first time riding a horse. I felt like I was special.

Dusty and dirty after days in the saddle, we finally rode into Santa Fe. As Juanita said, it was much bigger than Albuquerque. The main street was huge, people everywhere, wagons, and horses. Juanita knew exactly where she was headed. We tied up our horses and walked into the largest saloon. One of the girls recognized Juanita, and screeched at the top of her voice as we walked in. They hugged tightly, bouncing up and down. When they finally ran out of energy. Juanita introduced us. "Lotty, this is Feleena, she's a friend."

Lotty pushed past Juanita and pulled me into a hug. "Oh sweetie, any friend of Juanita's is a friend of mine."

She turned her attention back to Juanita. "So what are you doing back here, girl? You looking for work?"

"Yeah, we were hoping to."

"You might have timed your arrival perfectly. One of the girls just ran off to get married. I bet Rick, is going to be downright pleased to see you."

"Is Rick the new owner, Lotty?" Juanita asked.

"He sure as hell is." She leaned in real close, and whispered. "Oh, you are gonna love him. He is one handsome hunk of man." They both laughed loudly at that.

Lotty glanced at me, sort of taking me in. "What's your story, girl? You don't look like you are looking for our kinda work, if you know what I mean?"

"She's a singer, Lotty, and she's real good, she will help out around the place, do whatever it takes."

"A singer." She giggled, "Well, do tell. Honey, you sure don't look like no singer I ever seen."

Just then, a real well-dressed man walked down the stairs. Seeing us jabbering away, he walked up. "What's going on here, Lotty?"

"This is Juanita, and Feleena, they're looking for work, Rick."

His eyes ran up and down our bodies, taking in our dirty appearance. "And what sorta work you girls after?"

Juanita jumped in quickly before I could talk. "Sir, I'm looking for bar girl work. Feleena, she's a singer."