|A Contract For Ethan (standard:westerns, 19937 words)|
|Author: MikeK||Added: May 02 2016||Views/Reads: 458/249||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Molly was a whore. Orphaned from birth, what chance did she have? But there is a fire that burns in some people, an unquenchable flame, and that she had. She couldn't know that liberation would only require a train ride of one hundred and forty miles -- t|
A Contract For Ethan Michael Kahmann Copyright © 2016 by Michael Kahmann. All rights reserved. ISBN 978-1-365-05149-4 Molly Molly Hester never knew who her parents were. Her earliest recollections were of the orphanage where she lived until she ran away for good when she was fifteen. She had run away several times only to be brought back, but at fifteen they didn't want her. She was always a troublemaker, and with her freckles and red hair which was mostly never combed she scared the younger kids and was a constant target for the older ones. She got beat up all the time but there was something in her that would never let her give up. Had she been at all attractive the older boys would have helped her, but with her gangly stick shape and wildcat demeanor they left her alone. She found a home of sorts when a street-kid named Brent took her to the House, a place where young girls with no prospects were bought, sold, and traded. He got some kind of finder's fee. They discovered that Molly, who had never had anything of her own, was one hell of a worker. For a full belly and clean sheets she could out-work anyone there. What no one could have predicted, including Molly, was how attractive she became. At eighteen she was easily the best looking of any of the girls in the younger group. She had put on a slight amount of weight in all the right places, softening her more angular features. She no longer had to clean and scrub but only needed to ply the trade for which the House was famous. She learned how to handle the different clients, those that needed a mommy and a shoulder to cry on and those that needed careful watching, like the mean or crazy drunks. And unlike most of the girls in the House, she never took to the drinking or the drugs that ruined so many of them. Molly didn't know from any first hand experience how the trade she plied was viewed by most of the citizens of that frontier town. She was surviving and after a while prospering. She knew it was her looks that she traded on and she resolved to preserve them as long as possible while she tried to prepare for what came next. She had a lot of time to herself in the early afternoons and tried to educate herself. She became a voracious reader and discovered what a lucrative advantage this could be amongst her wealthier clients. At great peril to herself she squirreled away some of the larger tips she got in a secret bank account which a client had shown her how to set up. She considered herself lucky that she hadn't had to work the line herself for several years and only had to keep the girls in some kind of order. She had been given a small part of the action by Lew, the previous owner of the House, but when he lost it to Big Jim McCarty over some gambling debt, things changed for the worse. When she carefully approached Big Jim on the subject of her share of the business, he gave her to understand that Lew had gambled away her part and she was only of use to him as long as she could take care of the girls or work the line. Now Big Jim McCarty was a fearsome creature by any standard. He stood an honest six foot six and carried a hefty three hundred and twenty pounds. He knew the effect his appearance had on people and he used it to great advantage. He fancied himself a gambler but intimidation was his real strength. Like her, he came from the street, but he was far from having any manners or hygiene. Molly found him to be quite disgusting but like most sane people she would not make that an issue to his face. Even with all that, there was only one aspect of her daily existence that kept her in constant fear for her life. She protected the girls as best she could but some of the clients she had to interact with were extremely dangerous. These were men who by their nature gravitated to the wildness and lawlessness of the frontier. She had been beaten a few times rather badly. Several times she had been threatened by men she knew were not bluffing. It was not in her nature to ignore these situations, not with her fiery temper. She could be soft and demure to gain advantage but when threatened she could explode. Hence the little knit handbag that she always kept with her. In it she carried the three things most precious to her: a bank book, a little German-made straight Click here to read the rest of this story (1536 more lines)
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