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June 1863, New York City
“Cain’t ... cain’t b-believe you didn’t ... didn’t ...” The man hiccupped, and the odor of whisky smacked his tablemate in the face. “Die,” he finished. Through bleary, red-rimmed eyes he lifted his glass, draining the contents in one swallow. “I’ll have s-another,” he slurred.
His tablemate nodded and generously refilled his glass. Worthless drunk. But then getting him drunk was the idea.
The man gulped at the golden liquid, dribbling it on his chin, and slid his hand down to his crotch. “L-lice,” he garbled, scratching vigorously. Emptying the glass, he extended it again across the table.
But this time, his tablemate corked the bottle.
“N-now, friennnd,” the man said, the words dragging out interminably. “Y-you promisssed me. You sssaid even trade.”
“Indeed,” his tablemate said in a rumbling voice. “And so where’s my part of the bargain?”
“Yyyour part is upstairs. I gots ... gots her all ready for ya.” His eyes filled then with great, salty tears. “She’s ... she’s all I got. Speshhhal, she is.”
The tablemate, a burly man in his mid-forties, hardly doubted that, though he’d seen her and she was a pretty young thing. Fresh. Pure. Just like he liked. But what father traded away their daughter? Not one who found her special.
He scratched his bearded chin.
His chair legs scraped across the floor leaving dark streaks in the caked dust as he stood up from the table, and the drunk’s words repeated in his brain. Cain’t believe you didn’t die.
Well, he didn’t die. Worthless war. He was too smart to die. In fact, smart enough to make a dime or two volunteering for service, deserting, and volunteering again. Let the stupid one’s die.
Problem was this time he’d developed an appetite, and he didn’t aim to go back ‘til he’d fed it.
The drunk grasped his arm. “Wh-wh-where’s the rest?” he gargled.
The burly man curled his lip and pried the drunk’s filthy fingers from his sleeve. “You’ll get the rest after I’m satisfied with the girl,” he snarled. And satisfied he would be. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
His boots boomed in the tiny stairwell in his ascent to the second floor. He gripped the handrail and swung up the last two steps, his body surging at the upcoming prospect. He counted the doors. At the third door on the left, he grasped the knob and shoved.
A girl, her ebony hair falling over her shoulders, squealed and backed up against the wall.
The man licked his lips, and the surge in his flesh sharpened. “You and me gonna have us some fun,” he crowed. And he plunged into the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Where’s my da?” the girl cried. “Da said to wait for him here.” She was used to her father deserting her for days on end, but he always returned. Who was this man? She shrunk back, repelled by his large belly and broad chest.
The man reached for his belt. “Your da sold you to me for the night.”
Her eyes widened. No. Her da wouldn’t do that. He loved her. He ... he had a drinking problem, yes, but he loved her. He said so often enough.
The man’s belt hit the floor with a clunk, and his pants slipped around his ankles.
A sob tore from the girl’s throat. She desperately tried to cover herself. So this is why Da wanted her to dress this way. She pulled her clothing up from where she’d discarded it on the floor, wrapping it around her ripening curves.
“Yer shaped just like yer ma,” her da had said earlier.
She’d stood there, a new nightdress in her fingers. “But, Da, I don’t understand. I’m not tired. Why do I have to wear this?”
He hadn’t answered her, but stumbled out the door and down the hall. She was so naïve.
The man reached for her, yanking at her skirt. She wriggled in his hands, stifling a sob. “No! Please don’t make me do this.”
But his thick fingers tore at her nightdress and he tossed her onto the bed, his immense weight bending the bed frame into a u. A rumble arose in his throat. “Just keep up your cryin’,” he growled. “‘Cause I like it.”
He liked it? She fell silent, her eyes growing hard. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. He might take her body, but he’d never reach her soul. She gritted her teeth and closed her heart.
The man chuckled at the hate sparking from her face. “So that’s how it is then?” he said. “No matter. I’ve got all night.”