Page 98 of The Enchanted Land

Jessy hadn’t been so attracted to a man since she’d been sold at Madame Nicole’s. Jessy always remembered Madame Nicole’s as the height of her career, for she’d made her body her career. She loved men, and they loved her open easiness, her willingness to laugh.

Jessy had been bringing Seth meals for nearly a month when she first mentioned Morgan.

“You know, I guess I’ll always be partial to any man named Seth. I knew a girl once, a real beauty, who was married to man named Seth. You never saw anybody so in love—reallove, you know what I mean? Well, her Seth was killed, and you would of thought it was the end of the world. A neighbor, can you beat that, a neighbor, killed her husband and because she wouldn’t bed the guy, he sold her to a Frenchman and his Apaches. That’s when I met her. She cried all the way across the country for her Seth. The first few weeks she kept hopin’ she was gonna have his kid. When she found out she wasn’t, I thought she was gonna go crazy…

“Oh well, I’m boring you. I gotta go.”

“No!”

Jessy turned to look at Seth. His eyes were fierce and he almost frightened her. His hand on her arm hurt her.

“Tell the rest of your story.” His voice was harsh.

Jessy was puzzled. Maybe he’d seen Madame Nicole’s show and knew enough of the story already to know who she was talking about. Jessy straightened up and ran a hand through her tangled hair. Maybe he remembered her being in the show.

“Oh, Lord. All kinds of things happened to us. The Frenchman sold us to a whorehouse, Madame Nicole’s. It’s a real classy place. Maybe you’ve been there?”

She watched Seth’s nod.

“We didn’t work there. They auctioned us off. Morgan brought the highest price.”

Jessy failed to notice Seth’s whitened face. “What happened to her, this Morgan?”

“Well, Madame Nicole sold her to a pretty-boy, you know what I mean? I thought it was a dirty trick, but Morgan didn’t care. All she ever talked about was her Seth. Me, I’d rather have a live one than a dead one, no matter how great a man the dead one was.

“Hey, you all right? You don’t look so good. My story do that to you, or my cookin’?”

“I guess it’s the sun. I’ve had too much sun.”

“Well, you don’t look good at all, like you was taken sick. You better stay out of the sun the rest of the day. I really gotta go now. You need anything, just holler.” She touched Seth’s forehead. “You are a little warm. I’ll come back later and check on you.”

“Oh, God! Morgan, what have I done to you?” He sat on the little camp stool, his head in his hands. “What ever have I done?”

He started walking, as he always did when he was upset, toward the top of the mountain. Memories began to flash before his eyes, more vivid this time than ever before.

He saw the Montoya party. Marilyn had told him that Morgan and Joaquín huddled together in corners. But he saw that in a new light now. He knew Marilyn, knew her well enough to remember that she lied and schemed to get what she wanted. Marilyn would have been angry about his marriage, would have wanted him to think his wife had lovers.

The note! Why had she written the note? Jessy had said Joaquín had tried to force Morgan into his bed. He could have forced her to write the note. But why? She must have known he wouldn’t release her after what she had learned about him. But Morgan wouldn’t know that. She had such trust in people.

Oh God! What she went through! Montoya sold her to some Apaches, to be used in a white-slave auction! Seth had heard of Madame Nicole’s auctions. They were becoming famous in San Francisco. He’d heard, too, that sometimes the women purchased there were reluctant about their new jobs. It was whispered that Madame Nicole came by them in a rather mysterious manner.

Then there were the men in the saloon, when he’d first come to San Francisco. It was obvious now that they’d lied to a stranger, just to see him make a fool of himself over something they knew he could never have. Morgan was not to be had. That was the point. That had been the crux of their little joke.

What she’d been through! He remembered the night he went to her room, how he’d ignored her declarations of love. He sat down on a rock, his head in his hands. What had he done?

Morgan, can you ever forgive me? Can I ever make it up to you?

He stood up, staring at the sun. “I’ll make it up to you, Morgan. I vow here and now that I’ll find you and make it up to you. I’ll never doubt you again, no matter where you are or what has happened to you. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll convince you that I love you.”

Seth began walking down the mountainside, slowly at first, and then with stronger strides. Well, Colter, you’ve had enough time to feel sorry for yourself. A year—no! it was over two years since the night he had sneaked into Morgan’s bedroom. He smiled cruelly at himself. Two years of his life had been devoted to self-pity.

But he was through with that now. He was going to go to Morgan and fight for her. If she hated him, it would take longer. But he’d make her love him again.

“Seth! Where’ve you been? I was lookin’ for you. I was afraid my cookin’ might have killed you off.” Jessy looked up at Seth. He seemed ten years younger. “What’s happened to you? You look like somebody died and left you a gold mine.”

Seth put his big hands on Jessy’s shoulders and, to her astonishment, gave her a resounding kiss on the mouth. It wasn’t the passionate embrace she’d hoped for, but it was a start. She smiled up at him. His eyes were sparkling. She’d never noticed the deep blueness of them before.

“I don’t know what’s come over you, but I sure like it. Hey! What’re you doin’?”

---