“I may be a son of a bitch, Buck, but at least I made my money through hard work and not off. The hard work of my daddy!” Montague swung back and connected with Buck’s high cheek bone. He recoiled his fist with pain. Buck held his ground and ducking down he socked Montague in the belly.
“That’s enough!” The bartender shouted over the raising voices. “My bar ain't no place for brawlin’. You wanna make each other bleed, go do it outside!” He said.
Ignoring the bartender, Montague drew back his fist and was just about to let it fly when Clara burst through the door.
“Stop it!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. So peculiar was it to hear the voice of a non-working woman in the pub, that everyone fell silent and stared at Clara. “Just stop it!” She said walking over to the two fighters.
“Clara James?” Andrew Montague said.
“The very same.” Clara said. Then, turning to the bar she ordered a glass of ice. When it was provided, she took Buck’s handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the ice in it. “Here,” she said, offering it to Buck, “hold this to your cheek.” Buck did as she told him. “And as for you…” She glared at Andrew Montague, “I believe that you have something to say to me?”
“Umm…” Montague looked dumbfounded, his eyes shot between Clara and Buck and back again.
“Okay, well how about we try it this way.” Clara said. “How about you tell me just what you and Buck here were fighting over?” Andrew Montague shrugged and looked down at his shuffling feet like a child.
“Buck called him out for leavin’ you at the station.” The bartender said. “Then the fists started flyin’ and one of my stools got busted, followed by a couple of glasses too.” Clara looked at Buck, her face softening.
“Is that true?” She asked. Buck shrugged.
“It ain't right for a man to take another man's woman!” Montague said, as though he were preparing to pick up the fight where they had left off. Clara glared at him coldly.
“I can only assume that when you say ‘another man’s woman’ that you are referring to me?” She asked. Andrew Montague was silent. “Tell me, Mr. Montague, where were you when I arrived at the station?” Before he could answer a husky woman’s voice piped up from the end of the bar.
“He was at Madame Pussycats with me.” She said. Clara didn't need to ask what Madame Pussykats was. With a name like that there was only one thing that it might be and it was something that her sisters had warned her against on her journey out West. Clara nodded.
“Well, that would explain that, wouldn't it?” She asked. Then, closing the gap between her and Andrew Montague, she drew back her hand and slapped him just as hard as she could. His eyes widened and he stared at her, shocked. “Mr. Montague, I will have you know, that while I may have been promised to you in marriage, that offer no longer stands. James women do not, nor would they ever, tolerate such despicable behavior and utter disrespect.” She went to turn away, but before she did, she gave him one last piece of her mind. “That may be how you treat your women here in the West, but where I come from Mr. Montague, that is the surest way to meet the end of my daddy’s shotgun.” And with that she turned and walked straight back to her room.
Chapter 7
Clara sat on the edge of her bed. Her whole body was shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. Anger at Andrew Montague for daring to think that he could treat her such a way and fear that she now, officially, had nowhere to go. Leaning over, she cupped her face in her hands and it was only then that the tears began to fall. At first they trickled and then they poured and soon Clara found herself sobbing. She should have listened to her sisters and stayed in Virginia. They never would have let themselves be thrown over for some painted lady! Now, here she was, not only having been thrown over for one, but the entire public house knowing about it too!
“Clara?” Buck’s voice came through the crack of the door. He knocked. “Clara? May I please come in?” Clara tried her best to stop her crying, an effort that resulted in loud hiccuping breaths. Unable to take anymore, Buck pushed open the door.
“I didn't say come I !” Clara shouted, standing up from the bed and spinning around quickly to hide her face. Buck shut the door behind him.
“Clara…I'm sorry.” He said softly. He put his large hands on her shoulders and pulled her body to him. “I'm so sorry.” His words only served to set her off crying again. Spinning around, she buried her face in to his chest.