Read Online Wicked Wyoming Nights by Leigh Greenwood - Free Book Online Page B

stare at the ground.” “You won’t stand tongue-tied when it’s the right one.” Eliza thought of the quiet interlude under the tree with Cord. She hadn’t felt scared then. He was such a big man, so fiercely capable and determined, yet she saw nothing threatening in his powerful, six-foot-three frame. In fact, she couldn’t imagine how any man who owned his own ranch and tended his own cows would look any different; being at ease with him was just as natural as breathing.
    “But first you gotta tend to those cowboys at the saloon.” Eliza’s daydream vanished, and the harsh reality of rude, lusting men thrust itself upon her again. “You’re going back with your chin up and dare anybody to come near you.” “I don’t think I can.”
    “You’ve got to. You know your uncle is never going to let you stop singing. You might as well make up your mind to it right now, or you’ll never be able to sing in a real theater.” “I could never be good enough for a place like that.” “Yes, you will, but you gotta get over these silly fears first. Nothing else stands in your way.” The door opened without a warning knock and her uncle stood in the opening, scowling morosely. “You ready?” he barked. Eliza looked imploringly at Lucy. “Remember, dare them to touch you,” Lucy whispered, and gave her an encouraging smile. Eliza couldn’t hope to do as much as that, but desperate courage stiffened her will. She had given up any hope Cord would come listen to her sing, but even if he wasn’t present to see her perish in this miserable place—she felt like she was being thrown into a pit full of wild beasts—she refused to die a coward.
    The room seemed smaller and more crowded than ever. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Eliza walked over to the piano with what she desperately hoped was regal disdain. The room grew quieter. There were a few whispered comments, but no voice stood out and she was betrayed into a nervous smile. There was never anything disdainful about Eliza’s smile; it was friendly, open, and a terrible mistake.
    “That’s a pretty smile, lady.”
    “You got pretty teeth too.” A ripple of amusement cracked the tenuous restraint. The noise abated during her ballad, the talkers being noisily hushed by their neighbors, but when she finished there were immediate demands for a lively tune. Eliza obliged with a folk dance, and before the first verse was over two cowboys had started to dance with each other.
    “Don’t waste your steps on Clem when there’s a gal right in front of you,” prompted one onlooker.
    “Otis doesn’t know how to dance with a girl. He ain’t seen nothing but cows since he was thirteen.”
    “Give her a whirl. I bet she’ll show a prime leg.”
    Eliza’s voice faltered, and the piano player glanced at Ira out of the corner of his eye, but she didn’t stop.
    “Don’t be bashful. Go on, dance with her.”
    “He’s afraid.”
    Otis turned to Eliza with a wordless invitation; she kept on singing.
    “Ask her. She can’t say yes unless you do.”
    “How about it, Miss Sage?” Otis begged, almost as self-conscious as Eliza. She shook her head and glanced imploringly in her uncle’s direction, but he looked away. Two more men got up, each asking her to dance and being refused. One tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away. There was no escaping from the room; every inch of space was filled by a milling mass of men who looked to be all mouths asking her to dance, all arms trying to pull her on to the floor, all bodies keeping her hemmed in. Still she kept on singing.
    Suddenly a man emerged from the whirling mass and pulled her roughly toward him. Her desperate protests were lost in the crescendo of merriment, and he whirled her about, sending her spinning into the arms of another man, who spun her around until she became dizzy. The music seemed to pick up speed, only a little at first, and then so rapidly she couldn’t keep up. Faces began to lose their