El Paso Faleena

He sneered lecherously. "Singer? Hot damn, girl. You sure don't look like no singer."

"If you give me a chance, I can show you," I mumbled shyly.

He gave me a cheeky smile. "Okay, let's do it." He slapped his hand down on the bar and called out loudly. "Hey Cal, c'mon out here and play piano for us. We got us a singer."

This fat little greasy guy walked out and gave Juanita and me a sleazy glare. "Come on then."

We walked into the bar and he sat behind the piano. "Do you know "The Texas Lullaby?"

"Yes sir."

He started tinkling, and I started singing. It was difficult, everybody was staring at me. As nervous as I was, I closed my eyes and let it out. With my eyes closed, I couldn't see them and my confidence surged. When the song finished, he went straight into, "Buffalo Gals."

I glanced nervously, yet hopefully, across at Rick. He gave me an approving nod. "Y'all sound damn fine. Lady, if you clean up okay then you got a job. We could use some joy around this here establishment." His eyes hardened and his brow furrowed as he added, "I ain't paying ya, though. You gonna be singing for tips, and drinks."

"I can work in the kitchen, as well," I offered, hoping he might offer some money at least.

His expression changed as he gnawed away on his bottom lip. "Yeah, okay, talk to Charlie in the kitchen. He's always crying he needs a hand. Lotty, show them up to the rooms. Give them May-belle's old room."

Juanita looked ecstatic, and the rooms were nice. I mean these were so much nicer than the little room at Maria's. We unpacked our clothes and Juanita announced, "I'm having a hot bath."

I replied haltingly, "I'll go and find water and somewhere for the horses."

"Thanks Feleena, see. Now didn't I tell y'all it'd work out."

I found the blacksmiths, which had corrals out back, and a big barn. He seemed friendly. As we chatted, he chewed a long tuft of straw as if it was all he had to eat. He had a good look over our horses before, agreeing if we paid for the feed, we could leave the horses there.

A hot bath, which Juanita had organized for me, did nothing to ease my nerves. I had the first night jitters. Terrified didn't even get close to how I felt. I trembled and shook like nothing on earth. Rick, looking more like a gambler than a bar owner, whistled, as I walked in, "Ay, caramba! God damn it, you are one hot tamale, Feleena."

I started to walk off, but he directed me to the bar, guiding me with his hand clasping my elbow firmly. "Let's have us a drink first."

"Give us a couple of shots," he snapped at the bar man. The drinks appeared, and he passed me mine. "Let's have a toast. To new friends." He lifted his glass and gulped it down in one go. "Whoo-hoo. C'mon, Feleena. Drink up."

In all my life, I had never once had alcohol. I lifted the glass nervously, closed my eyes, and like Rick, drank it in one gulp. "Aye Yai Yai" I gasped as the fiery liquid burned its way to my tummy.

"God damn, you look like you never drank before." Risk chuckled as I gasped for oxygen.

He saw my embarrassment. "Well, fancy that. Holy hell. Don't worry, girl, if y'all gonna work around here, you better get used to that. Those drinks are gonna make you a lot of spondoolies."

The first song was hesitant and my voice wavered. I tried to look away, but everybody stared. I closed my eyes like earlier, pretended I was at home on the farm planting corn. With the visions of the feathery stalks, my heart rate settled and I found myself, the performer. I found the rhythm, and once I found that center, I soared. I heard the applause as my hips swayed and my body moved. The music lifted me higher, and I spun and twirled as I sang, the applause grew louder, more insistent. As my eyes opened, I saw some of the girls dancing with men, letting them swing them round, cheering and yahooing.

Then the money started to flow, they put dollar bills on the floor beside me, a couple even pulled me into dancing. It was to become part of my show. As I got used to the idea that my singing created excitement, I let that emotion carry me higher.

The night quickly passed. It was at the end of the night, the bar empty. Rick sidled up beside me. "You did good, Feleena, real good. That's the best god damned night we've had for a hell of a long time."

He walked me to the bar, poured us both a drink and raised his glass in another toast. "To success." Filled with emotion, I gulped down my shot as well. This time, at least I knew what to expect. The burn was strong, acrid, but a pleasant warmth slowly worked through my body.

We had another, and then another. "Feleena, why don't we finish this off in bed, god damn it. Just looking at you has got me all stirred up."

"I am tired," I stammered, hoping he wasn't suggesting what I thought he was.

"Darlin, there'll be no sleeping tonight, not the way I'm feeling right now." He grabbed my arm. "C'mon, girl, let's go make us some whoopee."

I snatched my arm away, "I'm not sleeping with you, Rick."

His eyes narrowed as my comment sunk in. "Girl, you're mine, you do what I god damned say."

I staggered back until I was pressed with my back against the bar. I shook my head. "I'm not doing that."

I felt the slap of his hand across my face. The searing pain sent me flying, and I collapsed in a heap by the spitoons on the floor. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me up the stairs as I cried and screamed.

He pulled me up until my face was level with his. "Shut the fuck up. Jeez, you'd think I was gonna kill ya. I'm gonna make you a woman. Now shut the whining, don't make me slap ya again."

He dragged me into his room, and threw me on the bed. "Get your damn clothes off," he snapped, as he started stripping himself.

I lay there panting, scared, what would Mama say?

He leapt on top of me, ripping at my clothes, my undergarments shredded under his extreme desire.

I fought, I screamed, I kicked, and pinched, but he was too strong for me. Thankfully, he was so enraged it was over in a second...

Once he was finished, I rushed into Juanita's room howling pitifully, explaining what happened.

She got hot water, and washed my face, wiped away my tears. "Wipe yourself, I will get a hot bath run." She scurried away as I curled up on her bed and cried.

The bath was boiling hot, and I nearly fainted as I sank into it. "It has to be hot, Feleena, as hot as you can take."

After the bath, we cuddled in her bed. "I'm sorry it was bad for you, muchacha. It will be better next time."

"Not with him; that is the last time. I will kill myself before he has me again," I snarled viciously.

She winced, her hands stroking me comfortingly. "Feleena, this is a man's world. Rick is not so bad. He is good looking. You have to learn to switch off. It is just your body, angel. Our minds, our dreams, those are ours. They cannot take them away."

"He is a pig, a pendejo, a disgusting, culero," I spat out venimously.

"Honey, you have to realize. We live in his world, he owns this place. You gotta get past this."

In the morning, I ran downstairs, did my jobs in the kitchen, then ran out to the blacksmith's. I saddled, volador, my horse. It felt so good to be with him again. We rode free and wild, not returning until late in the afternoon.

"Where in tarnation have you been?" Rick bellowed.

"For a ride," I spat at him.

"Next time you want to go somewhere, you ask my permission, got it?"

I pushed past him, on my way to get cleaned up and ready for the night.

It was another wonderful evening. I loved singing, it was like flying, all my inhibitions vanished and I could just be.

At the end of the night, Rick made his way towards me, his evil eyes staring. It was Juanita who intercepted him. "Rick, come with me. I want you."

I saw the confusion on his face. She kissed him passionately, her hands busy in his pants. "Rick, come, I need you in my bed."

He glared at me. "Next time bitch." Juanita led him away. I knew she did it for me, and I was grateful. I just couldn't figure out how she could do it."

Juanita met me the next day as I walked over to the coral to brush Volador.

"Feleena, I will try to help, but he has it bad, angel. He wants to be with you.."

"What do I do?"

"You gotta find a way to accept him sweetie, or you run. If you stay, remember, this is his house. He's the boss, he is gonna get what he wants."

Her response terrified me, I had only started here, I had no money, I spent most of what I saved from Maria's on Volador. "I don't have enough money yet. I have to stay."

She leaned closer and kissed me on the cheek. "Then you better get used to being with him. Do you know how to give a hand job?"

I shook my head as she laughed. "Girl, you are so damned innocent. When we get back to the saloon. I'll teach you. We better teach you about sucking dick, as well. You can tell him you got your period, that'll keep him from between your legs, but you gotta find other ways to satisfy him."

Using a broom handle, Juanita showed me the fine art of giving a handjob, and then how to suck. The thought disgusted me, but if I had to, I would.

That night, Rick came looking for me again, when I told him it was my time of the month, he quickly lost interest, and went after one of the other girls. That gave me a week's reprieve, but I knew it wouldn't last. Using Juanita's plan, I made sure he was drunk and gave him the handjob.

I stuck it out for a month, I saved everything I made singing. I could see he would never let me be free. He gave me no respite. He was by my side every waking moment. Cruel and unbending, he wanted me for himself. If anyone made any moves towards me, god help them. He was a cold and calculating devil.

He took me again one night in a drunken rage. He was brutal and malicious. I fought him harder than I ever had. I bit, I scratched. I spat in his face. I swore there and then it would be the last time. It was too much. In the morning, while he drunkenly slept in, I packed what belongings I could and said goodbye to Juanita. "Muchacha, head south. Follow the Rio Grande. Get as far away as possible. El Paso, it's on the border. It would be perfect for you."

With Volador fed and watered, we struck out. We rode like the wind, Volador enjoying the chance to stretch his legs. I stayed away from the towns, stuck to the trails, but I was already lost. Luckily I stumbled across the railroad lines, and followed them into to a siding, where it came to rest. It took a few dollars, but I had learned well the art of manipulating men. They helped me load Volador into a car, and I sat in there with him as the countryside, and towns rolled by.

We stopped in Albuquerque. I was tempted to stop in and say hello to Maria, I did feel bad about the way I ran off. She was nice to me, and I behaved badly. I felt shame for that. Sometimes, though, it is to hard to go back.

We arrived in El Paso late at night, and the lights of the town twinkled in the fresh clean skies. The railroad lines edged the township, and as we approached, I could hear the nightlife, the laughter, the music. The fact that there was music gladdened my heart...

I unloaded Volador and led him down the street to a large corral and cattle yard. Attached to the corrals was a barn and blacksmith's. Volador really needed a run, but that would have to wait. I stripped off all the luggage, and headed out onto main street. There were plenty of people walking around, many drunk rowdy cowboys, and vaquero's. Hearing the Spanish language used brought a warm feeling. It was, after all, a border town. Mexico on one side, America the other, both cultures mixed together like a huge stockpot stew. There were several saloons, the biggest seemed to be Rosa's Cantina. After paying for a room, and bath. I took all my bags and settled into a nice room.

The bath brought me back to life, and a couple of girls who carried the water back and forth asked, what I was doing in town. It gave me a perfect chance to do some research. It seemed my appraisal was right. Rosa's was where it all happened. It was the hot spot. When I mentioned to Celeste that I was a singer, she gave me a big smile. Her English was heavily accented with Spanish, and she slipped back and forth from both. "Rosa, she would be interested."

"I'm not a bar girl. I want only to sing."

"Si, it might be possible."

I found a table and a huge bubbly Mexican woman wandered to my table. She slid a plate of Enchiladas in front of me. Her look was curious. "You are a singer?" she said in stilted Mexican American.

"Si, I am looking for a somewhere to perform, but I am not a bar girl, my body is mine."

"This I understand. Eat, we will talk in the morning."

With heavy eyes, it was time for bed. The travel tired me more than I realized. It can be hard to sleep with the noises of the night, but that night, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Rosa, true to her word, gave me a shot, which turned out to be the amazing experience. With the largely Mexican customers, I was able to sing some Mexican songs, which even the Gringos loved. It was as if my dreams came true. During the days, I took Volador for rides along the Rio Grande, although it was dangerous. The area was lousy with Banditos, Commancheros, and outlaws. I was careful, my upbringing on the farm held me in good stead. I knew how to read sign.

Rosa was a huge figure. Her personality was loud, and pushy. Everybody feared Rosa, everybody except me. I earned her respect by not putting my body up for sale. Over time we became friends. She appreciated my talents and my ideals. When we sat together, we laughed and joked. I had never met anybody who could tell jokes like Rosa.

She teased me about not having a man in my life. "Ay,yai, yai. You will learn Feleena, one day, a vaquero is going to ride into town and carry off your heart. You will fall hard."

I laughed in her face; I had no such desires. "Hah, I am no pushover, Rosa."

"Maybe, querida, but one day. You will feel the sting of, El Cupido's arrow. At least I hope so."

"What about you, Rosa, where is the man in your life?"

"Not for me, querida, I have had many men, they fell at my feet, they fought for my affection. No, I am to old for that. Now, I am happy to look after my girls."

"Then why do you make them fear you?"

"If they fear me, they do as I ask. It helps me keep them safe."

Rosa, aside from her humor, was an astute woman, far more insightful than I gave her credit for. Her prophecy did come to pass. I was in full song when I looked through the sea of lecherous eyes staring wantonly at me as I sung an old ballad.

There among the smoky crowd, there was a man, his eyes so piercing they cut deep into my soul, my heart raced, my knees went weak. With that, I could not look away, our eyes fixed and his smile, damn that smile. He turned me to jelly, seducing me, drawing me in.

He stayed by the stage, his eyes never moved, he watched me until my show finished. Standing at the bar, getting a drink. I turned to see him standing in front of me, staring. "Ms. Feleena?"

I tried to fight down my unease, "Si, what can I do for you, hombre?"

"You have a beautiful voice, almost as beautiful as the owner."

I smiled at his flimsy line. "Flattery will get you nothing, I am only the singer."

"Well, could I buy you a drink? My name is Sinclair."

Looking him up and down, I saw the pistol slung low on his hip. "Are you a gunfighter, Sinclair?"

"No, just a farmer, a cowboy."

"You wear your holster low, the sign of a gunfighter."

"I'm not here looking for trouble Feleena, I know how to use my gun, but it is not how I earn my pay."

We talked softly, he led me outside and under the stars of the western sky. We shared our first kiss. It was a kiss that melted my heart, I felt the sting of the little barb. El Cupido had struck. When I looked into his eyes, it was plain to see it was a shared connection. I felt his heart pounding as our bodies became one.

When we waked back into the cantina, I saw the look on Rosa's face and she smiled. "te lo dije, did I not?"

It was a hunger too impossible to fight. Unlike Rick, I wanted Sinclair, with a hunger so fierce it ate away at me until I could bare it became unbearable. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I surrendered, and Sinclair and I became lovers, beyond lovers, this was not lust, it was love. We shared everything about ourselves. We rode together, and he taught me how to shoot a gun.

The only problem was his infernal jealousy. He hated watching me flirt with the patrons. I didn't understand at first. It was my job, it was how I made money. Occasionally as I sang, playing up to a big spending cowboy, I would catch Sinclair's eyes, and it made me shiver. The hurt was real, his pain so obvious.

It was painful to watch it eating away at him. Every night, it got harder for him. He couldn't stand it. He had more than one fist fight with clumsy patrons who made the mistake of becoming a little too frisky. "Stop it, Sinclair. They are innocent. Nothing happened," I would admonish him, but all to no avail.

"No, Feleena, it drives me crazy. I hate seeing them touch you, and the way you carry on with them. You make it worse."

"It is my job, Sinclair, it is how I earn my money."

"Yeah, well, I got my own place down by the river. It ain't much but it's enough. I run cattle, there's a homestead. It could be ours Feleena. You could give this up, be my wife."

I loved that he wanted me for himself, but it frightened me that he wanted me to give up my dreams. It may have been silly, but those dreams had been such a huge part of my life, I couldn't just let them go. "I love you, Sinclair, but singing is my dream. I love it. Why can I not do both, I would happily be your wife."

"Then give it up," he hissed. "You can sing anywhere. You don't have to do it here."

That argument echoed around our relationship. We had good days, but they were interspersed with days so bad, it seemed impossible to survive.

"What am I going to do, Rosa?" I asked.

"You are in love, I knew it would be this way for you. It burns inside you, I see it, we all see it. He feels the same. Your love is a run-away stallion, and all you can do is hold on tight and hope that when it runs out of breath, you are still in the saddle."

It all came to a head after Sinclair exploded violently and started a fight with a vaquero. What he didn't know was the Vaquero had friends, and he was badly beaten up. If it had not been for Rosa, who fired a shot over their heads, Sinclair may have died.

It wasn't just the everyday patrons who worried me. It was the Clintons, the wealthiest landholders for miles. They were the big noise in El Paso.

The father, an ex-confederate soldier, was a bitter twisted man who wanted to keep the South alive. His son, Hardy, had made it plain, he wanted me. He told everybody I was his. A bully, and thug, I wanted nothing to do with him. I had always been able to push him away, mostly, I think, because nobody else would go near me when he was around.

Sinclair's arrival changed that. He was afraid of nobody, certainly not Hardy. That, of course, didn't sit well with Hardy; he saw how we were and it riled him no end. He was vexed, and he and Sinclair had more than one run in.

It was after Sinclair beat Hardy's father in a fist fight that things went south rapidly.

The aftermath of that fight was war. Battle lines were drawn and Sinclair was enemy number one in their eyes.

Sinclair refused to take a backward step, he stood tall. In his mind the battle was over, he had bested Clinton in a fair fight.

He was shocked when Rosa asked him not to come round so much. She had no time for Clinton, but she knew him better than most. He ran his ranch like a military fort. Rather than cowboys or vaqueros, he had an army. It was full of ex-confederate soldiers, and all of them carried that same hatred. The loss of the South and all it stood for angered them. Many had lost family, land, belongings. They were mean, and completely devoted to Clinton.