Deed to Damnation

Ire

Solstice in the summer months was busier than any other season. Over the years that Ireland and her father had set up the inn, they enjoyed mild success. They worked well as a team as they only had each other. It ran smoothly with comfortable and attentive hospitality. It had been their only goal.
Ireland was obedient but more importantly, diligent. She threw her heart and soul into it as soon as she was old enough to cook and launder linens.
"I'm sure glad you know your way around a kitchen." Her father said. "Don't think your mama knew much about domestic duties."
Shawn Devereaux rarely mentioned her mother and when he did, it was followed by a quick, almost involuntary scowl. Ireland never wondered about it, thinking he was reminded of her death when he grimaced. Not only did he not talk about her, he forbade Ireland from asking questions about her without actually telling her she couldn't.
"How did you meet my mama?" She had asked one day when she was no more than thirteen.
Shawn had glared coldly at the inquiry.
"None of that matters now." He barked. "She's dead and buried. She never liked being tied down anyway. She would have run off sooner or later."
Ireland never understood why that was or how her father was so confident she would have left them in the long run.
The second time she asked she was a blossoming young woman and she had been standing in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom in her undergarments. Her body was changing before her eyes and the boys in town were noticing, making her uncomfortable. In New York, she had attended an all girls finishing school and she had never experienced that kind of attention. So when she looked up to see her father standing in the doorway, she asked if she resembled anything of her mother. It was all she could think of to say in that awkward moment.
He stood there for a few seconds, his eyes moving over his half dressed daughter before bounding over and slapping her hard across the face.
"Vanity!" He bellowed, as if he were standing at a pulpit.
Ireland's hand flew up to her cheek and she stared at him wide eyed, stinging tears threatening to spill.
"Cover yourself girl!" He yelled. "I'm not having a daughter of mine flaunting herself."
She could smell alcohol on his breath even though it was early in the day.
"Yes papa." She answered quietly and grabbed her house robe. "I'm sorry."
He left her then but not before muttering that she was exactly like her mother. But the way he said it made her think it was not a good thing. His eyes had flicked over her with barely veiled disgust before he disappeared from the doorway. It made her feel ashamed and after that she made sure she always dressed unassuming if not outright dowdy.
However, by the time she was nineteen the matronly dresses couldn't disguise the beauty that she inherited from the mother she never knew and that brought suitors calling.
"There's certainly no shortage of hounds sniffing around the inn these days." Shawn said one day. "I suppose you want to be courted by one of them."
She did want to but was afraid to say so. Shrugging her shoulders casually, she told him she didn't care much for that sort of thing.
"Good. They just want one thing, Ireland. A woman's virtue is the ultimate prize for unscrupulous men."
That statement stuck with her as well as the proclamations from the pastor that she heard every Sunday at church.
"In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array" Pastor Rossini had roared from the pulpit.
Ireland could feel her father's eyes on her during that fiery sermon and she tugged absently on the lap of her skirt even though it nearly covered the tips of her booties.
But still, she was curious about men and one day hoped to become a mother. You couldn't do that without courting so she decided to do it on the sly which proved to be difficult.
Jesse MacKenzie had been the first of only two interests. He was tall and lanky with a shock of hair so blonde, it looked white in the summer months. His large, blue eyes were captivating and he had taken the time to figure out what day Ireland visited the mercantile, bringing her flowers one Wednesday in May.
Nervously, she accepted his invitation to sit with him near the creek while he fished, promising he would show her how. He was the first to call her beautiful and her very first kiss. It had been sloppy and wet, a thing she was willing to accept until he began continuously boasting around their third date.
"Lilly Sullivan has taken an interest in me." He told her, when they were picnicking one day. "The cowhands think she's a fine looking girl. They say I should return the favor."
Ireland wasn't sure why Jesse would tell her such a thing while he was actively courting her but it made him decidedly less attractive. And when he moved to grab her breast during when of his overwhelming kisses she dropped him flat with a hard slap to his slobbering mouth. It must not have bothered him at all because the very next day, she saw him stroll nonchalantly past the inn with Lilly on his arm.
The next and final suitor had been Tim. Shy and respectful, he already had his sights set on becoming sheriff and even went so far as to aspire to becoming mayor one day.
Ireland liked him a lot and he taught her that not all men kiss like a wet fish. However, once her father began suspecting she was sneaking away, he doubled her duties at the inn leaving very little time for much else.
Tim saw less and less of her and even dared approach Shawn about seeing his daughter. It didn't go well. He called Ireland to the parlor, dirty linen basket in hand, and made her listen to all the reasons he couldn't court her at this time.
"Her business is here with me and tending to this inn. She needs to become a better homemaker before I give her away as a wife. I don't want to be embarrassed." He informed them both. "Maybe when business is better."
He said it so dismissively that it was mortifying. That, and the fact that he had demanded her to be there looking like a washroom hag.
Ireland's appearance hadn't bothered Tim in the least. He found her even more attractive in her authenticity with mussed hair and casual prairie dress. But eventually, the budding relationship ebbed and disappeared. She didn't know how badly it had crushed Tim and she completely shut her disappointment off, a skill that seemed to come naturally. Pretending something had never taken place was easier than facing it, a self defense mechanism that served her well.
It seemed in only a blink of an eye, nineteen had turned to twenty-nine and over those years so much had changed and not for the better. It wasn't the inn that was the albatross. The business had maintained its success with the help of the continental railroad that was snaking its way to the four corners of the country, and Solstice had benefited although there was still more progress to be made in the untamed areas. It was her own father that had started shifting into a burden she didn't know how to control.
All of it started slowly of course, so by the time Ireland realized just how far her father had fallen, she felt helpless to help him. The booze had started it all.
She had learned to cook almost as soon as they arrived and settled into town, buying any cookbooks from the mercantile she could get her hands on and she tried out her creations on her father first.
"You make a fine breakfast." Shawn told her. "More coffee."
Thrilled that he loved the meal, she eagerly poured him another steaming cup. She watched as he pulled a silver flask from his Sunday jacket and poured a brown liquid into the coffee, not even bothering to stir it.
"What's that, papa?" She asked, as he took a sip.
"Doctor's orders." He answered lightly. "Never mind. Go get ready for church."
It wasn't too much longer before she saw him sneak drinks straight from the small, shiny canister multiple times a day. By now, she knew it was the liquor from the bar in the parlor that he told her was reserved for the guests alone. It had multiple effects depending on the day. He would go from over the top happy to ornery and sullen the next. She never knew what to expect from him. The day she finally worked up the nerve to confront him, she knew it was a lost cause.
"Papa, I wish you wouldn't drink anymore." She said softly, trying to be as gentle as possible. "It's not good for you."
Shawn's face showed a multitude of reactions in about three seconds flat. It went from shock, to guilt to anger. He jumped from the kitchen table and stomped over to her in a rage. Her heart was pounding wildly as he grabbed her by the arm, his eyes moving over her with a horrible scowl on his face. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, the metallic taste of blood coating her tongue.
"You're to mind your own business, girl!" He roared. "That is, if you know what's good for you!"
After that, Ireland did mind her own business and then some. She tried even harder to make the inn more successful and learned new dishes to serve to the guests, all in hopes that it would soothe her father and perhaps ease the reasons why he drank so much. But it didn't get better. It got worse.
It wasn't long after that the card games began. At first, it had only been a few of the men from town and Shawn hadn't minded playing in front of her. She continued about her duties quietly before heading up to bed. Morning would come fast and since her father felt ill most days, he often neglected the work he normally took care of like bringing in wood for the kitchen stoves and bringing buckets of warm water for the basins in the guest rooms.
Ireland was able to manage by herself in most instances but it was exhausting and by the time the gambling circles got bigger, she made sure she was tucked upstairs and her bedroom door was locked before the men filed in.
In the morning, she would clean up after them and help Shawn to bed as he was usually passed out at one of the tables. His pockets were often turned out and empty and she was never sure if he did that himself or whether someone else had picked them. Sadly, neither did he when he would eventually wake up and start the whole routine over again.
Ireland knew not to ask about how much money he was winning or losing. But when one day she checked the petty cash and found it missing, she knew they may be in trouble. She couldn't confront her father again because in the end, it didn't really matter. Keeping the books was her job but it was Shawn Devereaux that owned the building. His name was on the deed even though she had been making the deposits and ordering what she could afford from the mercantile. She knew the numbers but it didn't stop her from hightailing it over to the bank one Monday after she poured her daddy's inebriated body into his bed.
"I can assure you, Ms. Devereaux, the money and the deed to the property are intact and safe in the back." Mr. Chambers told her.
The banker wore a wide smile but there was no light in his eyes. She supposed he was annoyed. It was highly unorthodox for a woman to show up and demand to see the books on a property she didn't even own.
"Mr. Chambers." Ireland began, changing her tone to one of dismay. "It's my father. He's not well. He's..."
"Not here." Ernie Chambers finished. "I'm afraid I'll need his permission."
Such was the lot of being a woman way out here, she thought. As always, she wondered what her mother would have done or even if she would have let her husband drag her out here to such an uncivilized world.
Ernie saw the uncertain worry on the young woman's face and relaxed his phony smile a bit.
"I'll tell you what." He consoled. "If I see Shawn depleting the account I'll let you know. It will be our secret."
Ireland was taken back by the offer.
"Really? You would do that for me?" She exclaimed.
"Of course." He reassured, leaving her smiling as he guided her to the door.
Except he didn't. What he did was tell Shawn about her visit shortly before he decided to try his luck at the card table with the other men who made their way to the inn every Saturday night.
Devereaux had been livid.
"I'm gonna beat that girl." Shawn slurred at the news.
Ernie scowled.
"You don't have to do that." He said. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"God damn right!" Shawn growled. "But snooping around will!"