‘Well, well, you’re dressed awful nice, ain’t you? Awful pretty, too. How much?’
‘I am not a whore,’ Jules said, her heart beginning to pound painfully. ‘Go away.’ ‘How much?’the man repeated. She saw in
a detached manner that one of his front teeth was gold. ‘I’m rich and you’re just too pretty to let go. Come now.’
‘Go away,’ she said again, and pushed her hands against him. He didn’t even notice that
one hand held a gun.
‘It’a almost dark,’ the man said, tightening his grip. ‘I don’t mind the alley. Do you like it standing up? I won’t pay you as much as I would if I could stick it in you in a nice bed. Come on now, little honey.’
She tried to jerk away from him, but it was
no use.
Suddenly his hand was flattened over her mouth and he was dragging her backward toward the filthy, dark alley.
‘Stop fighting me,’ he hissed into her face. ‘I’ll pay you, and you’ll like it.’
He was strong, Jules thought blankly. Oh God, what had she done? She felt her heart pounding wildly, felt her mouth go cotton dry. He was going to rape her!
She felt his mouth pressing wet kisses on her face, felt his hands tugging at her cloak to get to her breasts.
‘Stop it!’ she screamed against his hand. She felt his hand wild on her breast, kneading, pressing her back against a brick wall.
‘You just hold still,’ he growled at her, and lifted his hand from her mouth. She yelled, a high, thin sound that broke off abruptly when his hand yanked up her skirts.
His hand was pressing against her stomach, jerking at her underthings. She started hitting
him., and the derringer struck the side of his face. He drew back in stunned fury.
‘You little bitch.,’ he said in utter astonishment. ‘Why’d you do that? You ain’t nothing but a – ‘ He stopped abruptly, seeing the derringer. He grabbed her wrist and jerked it forward. But she wouldn’t let it go. There was a loud popping noise.
Jules watched as the man spun away from her, clutching at his shoulder. Blood oozed from between his fingers. He stared at her, his expression disbelieving. She dropped the derringer into her reticule and sagged against the wall.
‘Mrs. Saint! What the hell –
Thackery, whose practice was to keep well behind her, came bursting into the alley. ‘My God,’ he whispered, ‘you shot him!’ ‘He thought I was a whore,’Jules said, her
voice calm, too calm, Thackery thought, eyeing her white face.
‘What did you expect? Walking about by yourself, daring someone to come along … Oh damn!’
Thackery gathered the moaning man and hauled him upright. ‘Mrs. Saint, fetch me a carriage, now!’
Jules dashed into the street and yelled at a passing beer wagon. It cost her all the money she had to convince the man to
drive them back home.
When Lydia opened the front door, she gasped.
‘Get Dr. Saint,’Thackery said, and carried the man to Saint’s surgery.
Saint was daubing iodine on a miner’s leg. ‘Now, there, Lewis, you’ll be He broke off when the door burst open.
‘Later, Lewis,’ he said, and motioned for Thackery to put the man on the table. Saint said nothing, all his attention on the bullet wound. It was high on the man’s shoulder, and the bullet had gone clean through. The man moaned and began to struggle. ‘Hold him, Thackery,’ he said, not looking up.
‘Damned little whore shot me,’ the man muttered. He stared up at Saint, confusion and pain on his face. ‘Why would a whore shoot me? I told her I’d pay her. I ain’t no liar.’
‘Maybe she didn’t like brown eyes,’ Saint said, his hands busy. ‘Just hold still, you’re not dying, for God’s sake!’
‘She shot me,’ the man repeated blankly, his eyes dazed now from shock.
Saint got the bleeding stopped. He bathed the wound, spread on a thick layer of basilicum powder, and tightly bandaged the shoulder. ‘You’ll be good as new in a week.’
The man merely regarded him vaguely, and
Saint asked Thackery, ‘Do you know who he is?’