Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [175]
She realized too that she must do the same.
From the moment she met and fell for Theo, she’d virtually given her life into his keeping. She’d never stopped to ask herself if she really wanted to be part of his grandiose plans; in fact she lost the ability to make any of her own. Looking back, it seemed incredible that she’d travelled so many thousands of miles, put up with so many hardships, just to be at his side.
She was brushing her hair in her room one morning a few weeks after Jack had gone, when all at once it occurred to her that One Eye was using her in just the same way as Heaney had back in New York. Accepting the money put into the hat each night and being grateful he let her keep her room was playing into his hands. She was being exploited, and if she wasn’t careful she’d become trapped like Dolores and the other saloon girls.
She was making some 200 dollars or more a week, but the high cost of everything in Dawson soon whittled that down, for she’d bought new dresses, a fur to keep warm outside, and thick, fur-lined boots.
In all the giddiness of getting here and being part of the madness that was Dawson, she’d lost sight of the reason why they made the hazardous journey in the first place. The plan had been to make their fortunes.
Theo had done that, but all she’d got to show for her hard work was savings of 160 dollars. That wasn’t going to get her very far.
‘Come on now, honey, give me a kiss!’
Beth recoiled in horror as One Eye drunkenly tried to lunge at her. He was wearing his yellow and black checked suit, the waistcoat so tight around his middle that part of his belly protruded beneath it. His face was red and shiny with sweat and his breath was rank.
It was four in the morning and it had been a very busy night, with a poker game running for huge stakes. As usual, One Eye had sat at a table drinking with his cronies all evening, only shifting himself to call for more drinks, to order one of the barmen to eject a drunk, or to fondle one of the Paradise Alley whores who had taken to frequenting the place lately.
The poker game had finished an hour ago. All the gamblers had gone home, and the only customers left were six or seven men so drunk they were either asleep with their heads on the table, or wavering precariously on their seats.
The current bartender, known as Sly, an appropriate name for a man Beth was fairly certain pocketed the price of many drinks, had been trying to close up so he could go home. He’d asked Beth to help, and it was when she suggested to One Eye that the drunks should be ejected that he got up.
But he hadn’t ejected anyone; instead, he’d made a play for her.
Suddenly Beth knew she had to make a stand and prove herself.
‘Back off, you loathsome creep,’ she snapped at him. ‘I am not your woman. Lay one hand on me and you’ll regret it.’
‘You speak to me like that and I’ll throw you out on the street,’ he slurred.
She looked scornfully at him swaying on his feet, and this time remembered that she was popular in the town, while he was laughed at. ‘Just throw this lot out,’ she said, indicating the drunks. ‘Then go home. I’ll deal with you in the morning.’
She flounced off upstairs, locking her door behind her. She doubted One Eye would go home or throw the drunks out, for despite all his talk, he was in fact a weak man. The chances were they’d all still be there in the morning, out cold on the saloon floor.
It was early December now, so cold that the snow on the streets was as hard as brick and it hurt to breathe. The reason she’d stalled on implementing the plan she’d made two weeks earlier was purely because her room above the Golden Nugget was warm and comfortable. She felt secure here, even though she loathed One Eye. But that security was gone now he’d got the idea she was his property. He’d been very drunk tonight, but he was much more dangerous sober. She wouldn’t put it past him to force himself on her, or even