Deed to Damnation

Take A Bow

The poker game wasn't set to start until eight and Ireland felt herself hurrying to whip up a fast meal for Henry and his men. After he had left her in the barn, she had managed to clean herself up and get to the kitchen before any of the girls came down to make their own food.
When they were heading downstairs, she was going up, carrying a tray of steak and vegetables. Missy passed her on the steps and gave her a small, knowing smile before continuing on, leaving Ireland flustered and furious. She actually wanted to wring the girl's neck for making her feel so uncomfortable this morning, playing Henry's games and embarrassing her the way she had. But there were bigger fish to fry as she tapped on the door with her knee. The silver tray was heavy!
"Come in, Ireland."
It was the same voice he had used earlier, gruff and casual with a hint of menace in it. She gathered her nerves and walked in purposely but avoiding eye contact. What she did notice was that he had cleared the small bedside table and brought up two parlor chairs.
"Someone is joining you? I'll get another plate then." She said curtly and turned to go,
"That won't be necessary. Put the tray on the table and close the door." He ordered.
Ireland did as he asked, still trying to look cool and indifferent. Inside though, her belly felt as if fiery sparks were popping in her stomach, just like the sparks that jumped from beneath the blacksmith's hammer, shooting throughout her body and causing her heart to thump faster.
Stop it, it's just nerves, she scolded herself. But the tray was trembling slightly as she put it down. She hoped he didn't see it.
Henry was in his chair, long legs stretched out casually. He was wearing denim breeches, a very new style that had just become popular among ranchers and cowboys alike. His loose fitting white cotton shirt was tucked beneath his gun belt, slightly hidden by a brushed leather waistcoat. He had trimmed the course, half beard he had earlier, leaving just a thick mustache and salt and pepper scruff. From beneath his hat, Ireland could feel his eyes traveling over her.
"Sit down, Ireland. The extra chair is for you."
Ireland swallowed hard as if she could stuff down fear that threatened to reveal itself. She still couldn't look at his face, instead, lifting the silver plate warmer and presenting him with his dinner.
"It smells delicious." He remarked but placed his hand on hers and set it back down. "We have to talk first."
"I can't even imagine what we could possibly talk about." She quipped, finally looking towards him.
He had removed his hat, his hair a crown of soft, dark waves. He regarded her with a cool gaze.
"As much as I like you quiet, this is necessary to your well being." He stated.
She couldn't help it. The snide response slipped easily from her mouth.
"Since when did you start caring about that?"
The muscle in his jaw tightened, accentuating the deep tracks of his dimples.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. Where do you think you are? Better yet, who the hell do you think you are?" He growled.
His hazel eyes bore into hers and she straightened her skirt casually, pretending not to notice the stirring anger in them.
"I'm Ireland Devereaux." She replied. "I live under your thumb."
Her answer brought a half smile to Henry's rugged face. She was blessed or maybe cursed with a sharp wit and tongue, he thought with amusement.
"Let me tell you who I think you are." He continued, ignoring her fresh response. "I think you're a ninny. An arrogant, misinformed, sheltered brat who has no clue about life out here. Actually, it's obvious you have no clue about life in general."
Ireland's mouth dropped open and she found herself gripping her skirt in tight fists. Before she could even express her outrage, he continued.
"You have never been taught the word 'no' and have absolutely no respect for anyone you deem beneath you. You were brought up by a bible thumping imbecile with a taste for cards, women and booze. He was a hypocrite in the worst sense of the word and ruined his daughter because of it."
Ireland stood, eyes like daggers as she stared him down. She was absolutely speechless at his accusations and turned to leave but Henry was up and on her before she could even reach the door.
"Sit down!" He roared. "So help me I'll tie you to that chair."
He loomed over her. Standing this close to him, she felt so tiny and she stood on her toes and looked him squarely in the eye.
"How dare..."she began.
He pursed his lips before shoving her back into the seat, deflating her brave facade. Slipping his belt through the loops of his breeches, he folded it in half and laid it in front of her on the table.
"A gentle reminder." He said, taking his seat again. "I suggest you heed it. It's up to you."
She only glanced at it, pretending it didn't bother her in the least. But she kept her thoughts to herself, chewing on her bottom lip to stifle the words that would surely lead to a taste of the strap.
"The mayor tells me you come from New York. How old were you when you left there and why?" He inquired, producing a small flask of liquor from his vest pocket.
He took a swig before she answered.
"Yes. I'm from New York." She replied. "I was twelve when we moved here. My mother died when I was two. My father came to find fortune out here. He did too until..."
She bit the words back but he finished for her.
"Until I came along?"
She looked out the window at the late afternoon sky. She didn't dare answer.
"He should have stayed in New York." He stated, tapping the flask on the table. "Drink."
She took it willingly this time, hoping it would numb her from this conversation. The fiery liquid burned on the way down and she sipped from the glass of water she had brought with dinner.
"Let me tell you something. He failed you. Miserably." He drawled. "It's no wonder you act the way you do. He took a young woman from a modern society and dropped her here. Tell me, did you go to church in New York?"
All these questions! Why should he care, she thought angrily. None of that mattered now and she told him as much.
"But it does matter." He said flatly. "Did you?"
"Of course." She answered.
Henry leaned back and smoothed his mustache thoughtfully.
"I've got a theory about you, Ireland." He stated.
"Really?" She snapped.
"Yup." He grinned. "I think your father was a scoundrel. I've been to New York and the other bigger cities. Temptations are everywhere and easy to find if you know where to look. I think your papa knew exactly where to quench his inclinations. It was easy to hide them from you, being the child you were."
He didn't invite her to take a sip of the whiskey this time. She did it willingly and stayed quiet as he continued.
"Then when you were about eleven or so, I'm guessing, he could see that subtle change."
He shifted in his seat and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. His eyes were shining with anticipation, clearly enjoying her discomfort. He was hitting too close to home and he knew it.
"I'm sure you know what change I'm talking about. The one where he woke up one morning and realized you were becoming a woman child."
He stood then and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her in front of the full length mirror. His hands were on her shoulders, forcing her to face her reflection.
"He didn't like that, Ire." He said softly against her ear. "He knew what you were growing into and what men would want from you. He knew himself and naturally every man was like him in his opinion."
Henry's hands dropped lower, his knuckles barely grazing the sides of her breasts. She shivered as his lips brushed her pulse point.
"He was correct." He explained. "Too many hounds in the big city so he spirited you away, hiding you and most likely running from his own demons. He thought it would solve all his problems and here you are."
He led her back to the table and offered her the flask again. She drank.
"He came out here with a budding beauty and a big city attitude thinking he was a smart, worldly man. Probably thought everybody in the wild country were dumbasses and that's where he was wrong. They are mostly predators and fortune hunters. Bringing you here was a mistake and instilling the notions of the church is unrealistic and ignorant. It doesn't help you out here. Those commandments you learned? They're merely a guideline in these territories."
"You're speculating." She hissed.
"Maybe. But you forget I knew your father for a while before someone fed him a bullet." He said coldly. "He showed me his true self. Something he could never show you."
She sat stoically, her spine straight and her expression nondescript. The liquor was starting to take effect, blurring the emotions and stirring her thoughts.
"There's more." He said, taking the plate warmer off of his dinner.
"Of course." She responded dully.
"Not only did he fill you with fear of losing your very soul for even the slightest human indiscretion, he stole your opportunities. What did he think would happen if he was no longer around? There's not much out here for a lone unmarried woman. This little town isn't as godly as you think and women need men to take care of them when they stake their claim in a lawless land." He said matter of factly.
"Like you take care of those girls?" She returned hotly. "I've seen how you take care of them. I saw Missy's back. You're a demon."
"I made them understand." He shot back. "Just like I'm going to make you understand."
"By beating it into me?" She spat.
She snatched the flask off the table and took a tremendous gulp that almost made her retch. It was making her feel surprisingly confident but also a little less careful with her words. She expected a slap or maybe even his belt but instead he gave a low chuckle.
"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt since you're an educated woman. That sets you apart from the others. None of those girls can even read let alone do math." He informed her. "So I'm going to feed it to you."
Picking up the knife, he handed it to her, a small smile playing on his full lips. He knew he was taunting her. She would certainly love to plunge it into him if he let his guard down. She had already tried the very first night he had taken her by force and that rebellious hellcat was just below the surface. He could sense it but he knew she had wised up enough to not dare try it. She was well aware he wasn't afraid to kill her if she forced his hand. That would be disappointing. Killing a beautiful woman didn't bring him joy but sometimes life dealt unpleasant circumstances.
"Cut the meat, Ireland." Henry instructed.
With unsteady hands, she sliced off a small piece. The knife cut through easily, the savory juices pooling slightly on the china plate.
"Now feed it to me."
He leaned over the table and opened his mouth. Stabbing the morsel with the fork, she held it up to him. For a moment there was a terrible tension, their eyes clashing as she pushed the utensil gently between his open lips, the tines scraping lightly across his teeth. He smiled as he chewed slowly and swallowed.
"That's delicious." He complimented, taking the fork from her hand.
He carved off another piece of meat, this time, holding it out for her. He watched her as she parted her lips reluctantly and shut her eyes, allowing him to feed the tender steak to her. Again, he handed the knife and fork to her and told her to feed him. This went on until there was nothing but grizzle and fat left and they were full of food and liquor.
Henry leaned back in his chair and stretched his long body before sitting up straight and placing the plate on the floor.
"What do you think I was showing you by sharing my dinner with you?" He asked, studying her flushed face.
Ireland contemplated him, her head swimming delightfully from the effects of the strong whiskey. She smiled at him and that took him aback for a moment. He had never seen her smile. She was radiant. He guessed maybe she hadn't had much reason to smile as of late but probably didn't do much of that even before he acquired her.
"I'm not too sure." She admitted with a tipsy giggle. "But I showed you I can make a great steak! Oh! And even though I've never had babies, I know I can feed a large man child!"
Henry only hesitated for a moment before he was up and out of the chair. He grabbed her by the bodice of her dress, not caring when he heard a seam give out somewhere. She gasped as he pulled her up until she was on the very tips of her toes. His voice was a low growl.
"I guess I was wrong about one thing. You may be educated but you're as dumb as donkey shit. Beautiful and stupid, just how I like them."
She did get a smack in the mouth for her insolent words. It made her head spin and almost knocked her over. If he hadn't had her by the gown, she would have fallen. The alcohol hadn't helped the situation either.
"I guess maybe I need to be more direct." He told her. "You keep feeding me what I want and I'll feed you what you need. It's like that with everyone. You have a choice of course."
He grabbed her harshly by the hair and pulled her to the floor until she was on her hands and knees.
"You can enjoy your place at the master's table like my men and those women you look down your nose at." He snarled, pushing her face to the empty dinner plate. "Or you eat with the rest of the mongrels in this waste of a town."
She knew he was speaking figuratively of course but he had done this literally too. He reached down and pulled her back up before she could even respond. Henry dug into his vest pocket, producing neatly folded bills and stuffed them into her bodice.
"Wages." He smirked. "For being such a dutiful little maid. It's the reward I told you about."
She pulled them from her cleavage and tossed the money on the bed carelessly. It was the ultimate insult, paying her like an employee of her own building. It will always be mine, she thought ruefully.
"Good fortune trickles down and you should consider yourself lucky. I don't usually pay for something I already own." He said coldly.
"Do you pay Missy the same wage?" She slurred slightly.
"Missy deserves a lot more than that." He shot back. "You think you're so special but I'll tell you what. All of those whores are worth more than you. They don't pretend to be something they're not. You are a possession. You could only hope to be their equals at this point, my little whore maid."
The words were cutting and if she weren't so polluted she may have cried but she didn't. She held her ground and leaned on the bedpost for support.
"Don't forget pet! It's cards tonight, isn't it? I can sit by you like Satan's lap dog." She retorted.
Henry reached for his belt, watching for a reaction. He got one too. The bitch had jutted her chin out and subtly raised her skirt above her ankles. She was taunting him, no, tempting him to do it. He thought about it for a moment but the games would be starting and he wanted much more time to tend to her than just a few minutes.
"No, Ireland. The help stays upstairs out of sight. You've already proven yourself unworthy." He informed her, wrapping the belt around his taut waist. "I'll be back up to finish what you started later. If I were you, I'd drink the rest of that flask. You're going to want to be numb."
With that, he left her to her thoughts.