Free Wicked Wyoming Nights by Leigh Greenwood Page A

succumbed to the most wonderful feeling of her life. A man had protected her . A nobody! He had knocked two men down and even threatened to knock down more. The feeling was unbelievably delicious and she wanted to savor every minute of it.
    “That interfering bastard,” Ira roared, bursting into the room in a boiling rage. “What did you two do under that tree?”
    Eliza sat up a little straighten Unconsciously, Cord’s protection, combined with Lucy’s support and her newfound popularity, had come together in one evening to give her a different perception of herself. It would have been too much to say she had gained a realization of her own worth, but she had grasped the tenuous idea that she had value she could give or withhold to her advantage. Even her uncle sensed the change in her.
    “It’s high time somebody took that man down a peg,” he finished a little lamely.
    “But it’s so much nicer to have them listen quietly. You said from the first that’s how you wanted it to be. And now Mr. Stedman has seen to it they won’t bother me again.”
    “Damn the man! This is my saloon,” Ira burst out. “I decide whether or not the men dance with you, and I think it’s a great idea. We can start a lottery. Well draw numbers with a different man getting one dance every night.”
    “No!” shouted Eliza.
    “Can’t you see what a money-maker this will be? You’re a lady who can sing like a canary instead of screech like a bobcat. I might even charge for the dances. No, I’ll make it an extra. I’ll raise the price of whiskey instead.”
    “I won’t be auctioned off,” Eliza declared rebelliously.
    “I’ve got to talk to Croley about redoing this whole place,” Ira continued as if Eliza hadn’t spoken. “If we’re going to charge higher prices, we’ve got to have a fancier decor. I wonder if it’d be a good idea to get some more girls—maybe give free chances on them too? No, I don’t think so, not with you as a centerpiece. But I’ll have to talk to Croley.”
    “I won’t do it,” Eliza announced so vehemently her words finally pierced Ira’s armor of self-absorption. “I’ll quit.”
    “What?” thundered her incredulous uncle.
    “I said I’d quit. Then I could become a teacher.” Eliza’s newfound courage wavered, but it held.
    “Who put such a crazy idea in your head?”
    “I’ve always wanted a school,” Eliza replied eagerly, emboldened by her first taste of defiance. “And Mrs. Baylis says they haven’t had a teacher for almost a year now.
    “I told you to stay away from that woman.”
    “I sometimes go there while I wait for the second performance.”
    “Then stop it right now. And put this idea of a school out of your head.”
    “No.”
    “What did you say?” Ira sputtered, thunderstruck.
    “I said I won’t stop going to see Mrs. Baylis, and I won’t give up the idea of a school. Please, I can keep fixing your dinner and singing.”
    “You won’t do anything of the kind.”
    “Then I won’t sing anymore.” Eliza was as surprised as her uncle to hear the words come out of her mouth, but having said them she clung to them tenaciously.
    “Of course you’ll sing,” he growled, too shocked at Eliza’s ultimatum to rage at her. “Now let’s have no more talk about this. You’ve had too much excitement and it’s gone to your head. You’ll feel more like yourself tomorrow.”
    “I’m not going to change my mind tomorrow or the next day.”
    “And just what do you propose to do?”
    “Mrs. Baylis has asked me to come live with her. She says I work too hard. She also says I shouldn’t be singing in a saloon and wearing dresses no God-fearing female would be caught dead in.”
    “You tell Ella Baylis to mind her own business. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll lay a broom handle across your backside.”
    “I’ll tell Mr. Stedman.” The words, out before she knew it, caused her uncle to regard her with an ugly expression.
    “You would dare to trust a