Prologue

Boville, Missouri

Summer, 1875

Eighteen-year-old Mollie Green swallowed back the bile that rose in the back of her throat as the stench from the chamber pot, filled with vomit and urine, wafted upwards—the by-product of too much gut-rot whiskey and a night of debauchery. She resisted the urge to cover her nose and mouth, knowing from experience that doing so would only risk getting the contents on her face, as she’d been cleaning the upstairs rooms for more than an hour now.

She was even more thankful that she’d taken an extra moment to tie a makeshift scarf over her hair before starting on her chores this morning. The brown tresses always seemed to escape whatever attempt to confine them she made, falling in her face as she leaned forward, and eventually sticking to her skin as she started to perspire.

More than once she’d instinctively reached up to push the strands off of her face and ended up smearing whatever filth and dirt was on her hands on her cheeks or forehead. That was not going to happen today.

She quickly dumped the contents of the chamber pot into the larger waste pail and gave it a quick rinse with water from the pitcher on the dresser, making sure some of the clean water washed over her hands in the process.

She hated working above the saloon as a chambermaid, but at least it kept her off the main floor, where strangers and drunkards often crossed the lines of proper social behavior. She had no desire to participate in the vile conduct the other saloon girls engaged in—no matter how many coins might be involved.

Mollie had come to live at the dingy Boville saloon at the age of ten, sold to the saloon owner, Jonah McCauley, by her own parents. As the oldest of eight siblings, Mollie had known her folks were struggling to survive, but she’d not known the depths of their destitution or the reason behind it; that is, not until that fateful day when they’d loaded up the family and their few meager possessions in the back of their rickety wagon and driven into town.

Mollie had known the family was moving to another town; her pa had spent that morning talking about starting again, and had been looking forward to making a better life for his family. What she hadn’t known was that her folks had made a bargain with Jonah to help settle her pa’s gambling debts—the underlying reason for their current plight.

Some of the old disbelief and anger resurfaced and Mollie gave a quick shake of her head to shove them back into the dark corner of her mind where they normally resided. Even eight years later, it was hard to believe that her parents had sold her to the saloon owner. She grabbed the slop bucket and carefully carried it down the back stairway and out the back door, dumping it in the outhouse and then stopping at the hand pump to rinse the bucket clean.

She took an extra moment to scrub her own hands, stained with dirt from weeks without a proper bath. Her dress, one of two she considered her own, was a cast-off from one of the other saloon girls.

It had been much too large when she’d first put it on several years earlier until she’d modified it herself with a needle and thread. As her body had matured, she’d continued to adjust the dingy brown dress, letting it out until the threadbare fabric couldn’t be altered any longer.

It covered her person, but just barely; her legs were visible from mid-calf to the floor, the woolen socks some patron had left behind the only protection for her feet. She’d outgrown her shoes years earlier, and the heeled shoes one of the saloon girls had tossed her way were much too high and the red velvet covering completely impractical for her daily duties.

Aside from taking out the trash or using the outhouse, Mollie’s life was lived inside the saloon walls. She’d rarely been allowed to leave the saloon since coming to live there and had only recently been allowed to enter the back courtyard without Jonah or someone else watching. It was walled off from the rest of the town, and more than once Mollie had wished she could see a way clear to escape over the brick walls and disappear.

Alas, Jonah had made sure there was nothing in the courtyard which could be used as a step stool or ladder to help one climb over the wall to the outside world. Mollie sighed and then shook her head, the futility of her wishes making her frown.

There’s no point in wishing for the impossible, Mollie-girl. This is your life and unless the Good Lord above sees fit to make the courtyard walls fall down like He did the walls of Jericho, you’re not getting out of here anytime soon.

The little voice inside her head brought her back to the reality of her present situation and the dim future that lay ahead of her. When she’d first come to live at the saloon, she’d felt abandoned and exactly like the prisoner she’d become. She’d spent many days and nights praying for God to rescue her and for her parents to come back for her. These days, she longed to get away from the saloon and the constant fear she felt living there, a fear that had only grown as she’d moved from a child into adulthood. The fear was like a dark shadow, always lingering behind the doors and around the corners. It was a fear she was helpless to dispel or eliminate: she had no place to go and no one to turn to for help.

Morose, yet knowing she was in danger of falling behind in her daily chores, she slipped back up the stairs and gathered up the soiled linens, taking a moment to finger the small wooden cross she wore around her neck and kept hidden beneath her dress. It was the only thing she possessed, given to her by her ma before her pa had handed her over to Jonah.

“God will always be with you,” her ma had whispered in her ear as she slipped it over her head. Mollie had seen the tears on her ma’s face, but still hadn’t fully realized what was happening until her pa had picked her up and quickly handed her over to the stranger. “Be a good girl and do what he says,” had been her pa’s parting words to her. Instead of tears, she’d only seen resignation and defeat in her pa’s eyes; she’d watched in shock as he’d flicked the reins and driven off, with her ma sobbing quietly by his side. It was the last time she’d ever seen either of them.

Jonah had informed her weeks later that her folks had left Boville and taken the rest of her siblings with them. Mollie had retreated to the small cubby in the attic where she’d been told to sleep and cried for an entire night. The next morning, hunger had driven her to the kitchen and Jonah had laid out how her new life was going to work. If she wanted to eat, she was to do what she was told.

If she didn’t want to be slapped or hit, she’d do what she was told without complaining or dawdling. If at any time she decided to try and leave the saloon, she’d find herself locked back in the attic, and Jonah had threatened to throw away the key and forget she even existed. The threat had been effective so far.

“Whatcha doin?” Alice, one of the saloon whores, asked from the doorway of the room she called her own. She was a tall, skinny woman with a grating voice that annoyed Mollie, but the gentlemen who frequented Alice’s room didn’t seem to mind.

Mollie hid her surprise at being caught woolgathering and glanced at the other woman briefly. “What I’m always doing this time of day,” Mollie told her quietly. “Cleaning up.”

“And you do it so well,” Alice told her with a shake of her head, her dark red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “That dress is nothing more than a rag with sleeves and a hole for your head to fit through.”

Mollie shrugged her shoulders and continued down the hallway. “It fits the same as the other one,” she replied when she drew level with Alice’s room.

“You should tell Jonah you need some new clothing. I’m sure he’d be willing to barter with you for them,” Alice told her snidely.

Mollie gave the other woman a sideways look and then hurried past her with a hastily muttered, “No thank you. I don’t like the way Jonah barters.”

Alice slapped her thigh as she bent over in laughter, telling her, “I’m sure you don’t. Slave girl. Don’t forget to freshen up the linens in my room. The boys from the surrounding ranches will be coming into town tonight to let off a little steam. I plan to make sure they have a good time.”

Mollie ignored Alice’s comments, muttering beneath her breath, “I’m sure you’ll not lack for company.” She immediately felt bad for being so uncharitable, but it was a fleeting thought and she quickly pushed it aside as she dealt with the next two rooms. Alice’s room was easy enough, and she had the linens on the bed changed before the women came upstairs to prepare for the evening ahead.

Mollie entered the last room and quickly straightened up the bed linens. She pulled the soiled bed sheet off the mattress and tucked it away into the basket sitting outside in the narrow hallway. She carried the basket of laundry down to the kitchen and was pleased to see that everyone seemed to be doing something else.

She quickly set up the washtub just outside the back door and transferred several buckets of water from the well to it. She then retrieved a bucket of hot water from the hearth and added it to the washtub. She then grabbed a bar of lye soap and the washboard and proceeded to scrub the linens clean.

By the time she was finished, her hands were red and the places where they’d cracked from being dry and abused day after day were very painful. She dumped the washbasin, splashing the dirty water on her woolen socks in the process, and was only grateful it wasn’t winter; since it was summer, her socks would dry before bedtime.

She hoped. She took an extra moment to splash clean water on her arms and her face. She longed to wash her hair and try to do something about the fierce tangles that pulled at her scalp, but that would take time she didn’t have and a comb or brush she didn’t possess.

When she was younger, her hair had been a delightful golden-brown color, offsetting her bright green eyes, but these days she avoided looking into the mirrors, hating the pitiful creature that stared back at her and knowing she was helpless to change her situation. Too skinny. Her face was angular, her eyes huge-looking with their dark lashes and deep green color. Her complexion was very light and only a few freckles remained as a reminder of her younger, carefree days-days spent enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and the knowledge that she and her siblings were loved.

She hung the sheets on the rope that stretched from the corner of the outhouse to the back of the saloon and then headed back indoors. The kitchen was still empty, and she glanced at the door that led to the cellar, recalling the noises she’d heard coming from there the last two nights and once again questioning what Jonah was hiding beneath the saloon besides his stash of whiskey.

She took a step in that direction, but then the sounds from above the stairs reminded her she wasn’t as alone as it seemed, and she didn’t dare incur Jonah’s wrath by trespassing where she’d been warned numerous times not to go. The less she had to deal with Jonah, the better.

She quietly looked around until she found a crust of yesterday’s bread, tucked away in a flour sack on the counter. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt, being sure to keep her hand over it in case it fell through the hole in the bottom. She scurried up the stairs to the attic and slowly ate the crusty bread, wishing she’d thought to bring water with her.

Once finished, she pulled off the sodden socks, hanging them on nails that stuck through the siding of the building, laid down on the worn blanket that served as a pallet, and curled into a ball, praying as she did so many times each day for God to rescue her from this pitiful existence.

Mollie had been raised in a Godly household, her ma and pa making sure their children learned their Scriptures and attended the local church each Sunday. There, Mollie had learned about God and how He loved His children. Abandoned by her own earthly parents, she clung to the knowledge that God still loved her—she wasn’t completely alone, even though it felt like that most of the time.

She closed her eyes as she mentally recited the few Bible verses she still remembered. She didn’t have a Bible, and she’d learned early on not to ask for or expect anything from her owner. He seemed to take great joy in watching her suffer, and if he discovered there was something she wanted, he wasn’t above taunting her with it just to watch her disappointment when she didn’t get to have it.

She squinted into the dim attic, the only light coming from the small dormer window covered with cobwebs and years of dust. Her eyesight had been poor for as long as she could remember, her ability to see things clearly in the distance far better than whatever she might be holding in her hands. Once again, she wondered if that was why her parents had so carelessly sold her to Jonah: her poor eyes. Jonah didn’t seem to care one way or another, as long as she got all of her assigned chores done.

She was still pondering these things when she heard Jonah’s angry voice calling up the attic stairs. She blinked and realized she’d been lying there for the better part of the afternoon, and it was already early evening.

“Mollie, get yourself down here!”

Mollie cringed at the note of anger and impatience she heard in his voice. It was beginning to get dark now, and the loud noises from the saloon below told her the tables were filled with patrons looking to get drunk and gamble away their meager earnings. There would also be those who had come to the saloon looking for the company of one of the saloon girls in the rooms she would once again clean in the morning light. It was an ever-present cycle that she couldn’t seem to escape.

“Mollie, don’t make me come up there and get you!” Jonah hollered up the attic stairs once more.

“I’m coming,” she called back, reaching for the socks and then cringing at how cold and wet they still were. She stood up, leaving the socks where they were to dry, resigning herself to going barefoot tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time and surely wouldn’t be the last.

She scurried to the top of the stairs and looked down to see Jonah scowling up at her. “Did you need me to do something?” she inquired, keeping a careful watch on Jonah’s hands as he took a small step backward, allowing her to reach the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s time you began helping out more around here,” he informed her with a puff of his chest. “Belinda is sick. Get down there and make yourself available to the gentleman in the black hat sitting at the bar.”

“What?” Mollie asked in shock, stepping back only to find herself trapped in the corner.

“You heard me. You’re not a little girl any longer, it’s time you began acting like a full-grown woman.” He looked her up and down and then shook his head, “You’re not much to look at, but the girls can help you with that tomorrow. For tonight, Jeb is wanting some company.” He pointed a finger at her and smiled evilly at her as he added, “That company is you.”

“No,” Mollie whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t want to. I’ve been keeping the rooms up…”

“And you’ll continue to do so, but there’s no reason you should be hiding up here when there’s coin to be made on the saloon floor.” Jonah reached out, grabbing her upper arm, and pulled her none too gently toward the staircase. “All you have to do is be nice to Jeb and he’ll be nice to you in return. Get up nice and close to his side, encourage him to drink heavily, and when he suggests going upstairs to get better acquainted, your response will be merely a nod of your head.”

“I don’t want…“

“I don’t care what you want,” he informed her in a harsh whisper as he dragged her through the swinging doors, giving her a hard push toward the end of the bar. “Jeb is one of my richest patrons and if he wants a little kiss and tickle tonight, that’s exactly what he’s going to get. Do not disappoint me.” He leered at her. “I promise you won’t like the consequences.”

Mollie swallowed heavily, feeling unshed tears fill her eyes as she was shoved along, her bare feet doing little to slow her forward progress. A rough spot in the floorboards caused a splinter of wood to enter the soft pad of her left foot and she gave a sharp yell of pain and pulled her foot up sharply, ignoring the fact that anyone looking saw more than they should have of her bare legs. She reached for her foot, quickly withdrawing the offending piece of wood, only to feel herself being propelled forward once more, landing her right next to the stranger she was supposed to entertain this evening.

“Jeb, have you met Mollie?” Jonah smiled cordially at the man in the black hat.

Jeb turned and looked her up and down, his scraggly beard streaked with gray hair, the same as the hair that poked out beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes were dark, and his skin was tanned from many hours spent beneath the harsh rays of the sun. “I can’t say I have. She’s a mite skinny, isn’t she?” he asked Jonah, completely ignoring the fact that Mollie was standing right before him.

“She’s sturdy enough for whatever you have in mind,” Jonah crudely replied. “Do you prefer to spend a few minutes down here or just retire upstairs?”

Jeb looked Mollie over one last time and then pursed his lips and shook his head. “Sorry, Jonah. She looks like a street urchin. When’d she bathe last? And she’s a bit young—didn’t realize you had kids working here.”

“She’s eighteen, aren’t you, Mollie? Tell him,” Jonah gave her arm a fierce shake.

“I turned eighteen last week,” she whispered, fear clogging her throat. This man was so much larger than her and there was a meanness about him that she didn’t want to have to contend with.

“Don’t matter,” Jeb said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just drink your whiskey and hope Belinda’s feeling up to snuff tomorrow.”

Mollie felt such a sense of relief, her knees sagged, but her relief was short-lived. Jonah nodded and then told the bartender to get Jeb another drink, on the house, before tightening his grip on her arm painfully and dragging her back into the kitchen, away from the curious eyes of his patrons. He didn’t stop until he reached the back parlor room he used as his personal office. He kicked the door open and dragged her inside. The door slammed shut and he released her arm, giving her a disgusted look before stalking toward the small sideboard and pouring himself a drink of his private stock.

“What did I tell you?” he demanded, pacing back and forth as he eyed her and sipped his drink.

“I…,” Mollie started to defend herself, but then she stopped because she’d done nothing requiring such an action on her part.

Jonah paced another moment and then slammed his glass down on the desk, the echo causing Mollie to jump, but she held her place halfway between the door and the man who believed he owned her.

He stalked toward her, and she tipped her head back to keep his face in her vision, even as she moved to the side, trying to keep some distance between them. Her vision failed her when he reached for her shoulders, shaking her violently and causing her to cry out as her head snapped back painfully.

“You are mine to do with whatever I choose,” he sneered down into her face, spittle dropping onto her cheek. “Instead of being grateful for the roof I’ve put over your head these many years and the food that finds its way into your belly, you defy me. Well, that ends tonight.”

Mollie was shaking so badly she feared her knees would give out as Jonah leaned closer, the smell of the whiskey on his breath turning her stomach. She tried to pull away from him, but his strength was too much for her. This was the source of her newest fear—Jonah’s increasingly inappropriate touching of her person and crude comments.

He tried to kiss her, smashing his lips against her chin when she abruptly pulled her head back. His hand grabbed her hair, pulling viciously at the tangled brown length as he forced her to accept his kiss. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as he released her. She lifted her hand up and touched her bruised lips, gingerly touching the place where her lip had split as his teeth crushed against her own.

“Leave me alone,” she told him, taking a step back, only to stumble as he stalked forward, shoving her into the corner of the small side table in front of his desk. “Ouch!” she cried out, her hand going to her hip and feeling the protruding hip bone beneath her tattered dress that had taken the brunt of her stumble. She was indeed too skinny, just as the stranger in the saloon had said, but Jonah didn’t seem to see or didn’t care.

“Be quiet,” Jonah cautioned her, reaching forward once more for her. She tried to evade his touch, and his fingers tangled in the sleeve of her dress, ripping it from the shoulder seam. She lunged for the other side of the desk, but he pulled her back, his other hand grabbing her neck and shoving her hard against the front of the desk so that she was belly down across the scarred wooden surface.

“No!” she told him, doing her best to kick at Jonah’s shin with her bare feet, but he merely slapped her on the back of the head, and she moaned in pain.

“You might as well stop fighting me,” Jonah told her. “After tonight, you’ll serve in the bar along with the other whores. You might even find, with time, that you like the attention of many men.”

Mollie saw her tears drip onto the desktop as she pushed up, attempting to gain any leverage possible to her with which to fight back against Jonah’s unholy attack. “God, help me,” she cried out in desperation.

“God’s not here to help you,” Jonah cruelly laughed at her. She felt him move back from her slightly at the same time her eye caught on the brass lamp sitting on the corner of his desk.

Without hesitation, she reached for it and rolled over, swinging the lamp base toward the place where she thought Jonah’s head might be. Her aim was true, and with a sickening thud and a loud groan from Jonah, the base of the lamp made contact with the side of his head.

She watched as Jonah’s hands went up toward his head, then fell to his side as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the floor. She scooted up onto the desk and then off the other side, letting the lamp drop to the floor by her feet as she stared at Jonah’s crumpled form. He lay between her and the only escape from the room, and she slowly made her way around the desk, keeping her eyes on her attacker.

A small pool of blood was beginning to form beside his head and his eyes were closed, his complexion pale and gray. Her stomach clenched as she realized she’d just attacked a man. Dear Lord, what if I killed him? It’ll be the hangman’s noose for sure.

Fear sent a cold shiver down her spine and her hands shook as she reached for the door handle and cracked it open a few inches. She could hear the noise coming from the bar, but the kitchen was blessedly empty. Knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before someone came looking for Jonah, Mollie made her way quickly to the side door, mercifully unobserved.

She slipped out into the darkness of the night and kept to the shadows of the buildings until she was several blocks away. At that point, she ran. She had no destination in mind, just anywhere other than Boville and the man who had made her life a living hell for the last eight years. That ended tonight, even if it meant Mollie would have to sacrifice her own life in the process. At least she’d do so under her own terms and not under the forced servitude of the vile Jonah McCauley. His ownership of her ended tonight!