Porcelain White (Book 1)

Chapter Three

"Sodbuster pick up your winnings and straighten up this mess. Captain Pichon, you are finished here. I have watched you cheat these sodbusters out of their hard-earned wages too many nights, and I am tired of these fights. Get out. Now. Don't bother coming back," said Shereen.

She turned and gracefully walked through the crowded saloon as everyone stepped back to make way for the blond with the pearl-handled pistol.

Sergeant Webster took hold of Pichon's arm and pointed him towards the door. Pichon tore his arm free and stumbled away from Webster.

"Come on, Captain. It's late and time to get back to the fort," said Sergeant Webster.

"Leave me alone. I can take care of myself. Who needs you? I don't need you looking after me," said Captain Pichon.

Captain Pichon made his way to his horse tied at the rail, and Captain Webster helped him into the saddle. They rode in silence back to the fort. He looked to the night sky and thanked his lucky stars that Pichon had rejected Isabel. He was a piece of shit that didn't deserve her. She was beautiful in his eyes, and John couldn't stop thinking about her.

As he rode, he berated himself for never being able to talk to girls. He would get all tongue tied and say the wrong thing. Then, they would get mad and stomp off in a huff. He never cared enough about any of them to try to explain, and after a while, he just ignored anyone who tried to flirt or talk to him.

Besides, what did he have to offer them? He didn't own his own business, yet, or have a place to live after he received his discharge papers. What kind of woman would want a man who didn't sleep through the night?

Women wanted their husbands to be able to spend the night in bed, holding them and making love to them. What woman would want to wait until one a.m. for her man to come to bed?

Most women would be suspicious of a man wanting to stay up late every night. Somehow, he felt that it might be different with Isabel. Her curly porcelain hair and her soft, gentle face stayed in his mind until finally, he drifted off to sleep with the thoughts of if he worked hard enough, it could work. He deserved to have a wife and a family. John wanted his own business and a house for all of them to live in together. Just maybe.

* *. *

Days went by as Isabel worked at the hotel. Every day, she was meeting new people. Having friends was a new concept for her. She had never had friends other than her brother Ben who was two years younger.

At the hotel, she loved the camaraderie of the kitchen help. She listened to the teasing and the local news; even though she did not understand all of the gossips.

"Ey, Majorie! You could just as well get a job at Shereen's," said Pauline.

"What do you mean?" fired back the waitress with the long red hair pulled neatly back at the nape of her neck.

"I saw ya walkin' past there last night," said Pauline.

"I wanted to see how much money my man was winning. Besides ain't no harm in a girl going for an evening stroll," Majorie said with a big smile.

Every morning Isabel would scamper down earlier than the other girls would. She loved sitting on the stool in the corner, working the butter churn and listening to the warm laughter.

Hams baked in the oven, and bacon cooked on the griddle along with pancakes, eggs, and potatoes. She has never eaten three square meals a day or been so warm.

"Isabel! Come here! It's time to learn how to make biscuits. If you're going to be here so early, every morning, you might as well learn," bellowed Clara. "Come here. I'll show ya."