Almost a Lady Read Free

wanted to make sure everything was okay before reporting back to Lucas and Megan. Plus, he grinned ruefully, he'd be damned if he was going to forego the show.

    Brandt took a seat at one of the tables closest to the wide plank platform. He didn't want to miss a note, not an inhaled breath or fluttered eyelash of the woman about to take the stage.
    Voices hummed through the room. Men clustered around the tables, bar, and doorway, filling the Silver Spur near to overflowing. To Brandt's surprise, no women speckled the crowd. Not one feminine form mulled about in an establishment known for its hard liquor and easy women. And, strangest of all, no one seemed to mind.
    Raucous hoots filled the air when a busty woman with wide hips and jet-black hair sauntered onto the stage. Her purple gown clashed brutally against the blood-red curtains that hid the rest of the performance area.
    "All right, all right,” she called over the noise. But her smile said she didn't mind the ruckus a bit. “Hush up, you randy bastards,” she shouted. “Do you want to see the show or not?"
    More catcalls and wild applause greeted her question.
    "All right, then. Here she is, our very own songbird . . . Willow.” She walked off the platform as the curtains parted.
    The piano man tapped out the first tinging notes of an old
Missouri
favorite, “Flat River Girl,” and a hush fell over the audience.
    Willow stood in the center of the stage, in all her regal splendor. The sapphire blue of her dress shone in the bright luminescence of the chandelier overhead. Auburn highlights streaked through her otherwise light brown hair.
    Brandt watched the rise of her breasts as she took a deep breath and began her song.
     
    "Come, all you fine young fellows with hearts so warm and true,
    Oh, never believe in a woman, you're lost, boys, if you do;
    But if you ever see one with long brown chestnut curls,
    Just think of Big Jack Haggerty and his
Flat
River
Girl."

    Brandt sat back, in awe of the effect she seemed to have on the audience. A rougher, tougher, more deviant crowd he'd never seen, and yet the gentle caress of her voice lulled them into an almost frightening calm. He would expect this sort of respectful silence from those who frequented the higher-class theaters and opera houses in Boston,
New York
, or even St. Louis. But in a cowtown like Jefferson City,
Missouri
? In a brothel by the name of the Silver Spur?
    The song drew to a close, but the room remained cloaked in appreciative quiet. It was obvious they knew there was more to come.
    "I met her on the mountain, and there I took her life," Willow sang sorrowfully, accompanied by the tinny notes of the off-key piano. "I met her on the mountain, and stabbed her with my knife."
    Brandt noticed that her bottom lip trembled just a bit as she began the chorus.
    The tune that followed “Tom Dooley” was another ballad sad enough to tear at even the hardest of hearts.
     
    "He was just a lonely cowboy
    With a heart so brave and true,
    And he learned to love a maiden
    With eyes of heaven's blue.
     
    They learned to love each other
    And named their wedding day,
      When a quarrel came between them
    And Jack, he rode away."
     
    She strode across the stage, smiling wistfully at the audience, making eye contact with those she could see, treating each man like he was the only one in the room.
    Brandt couldn't believe it. When the song ended with Jack's lady on her deathbed, pledging her love to him, Brandt actually thought he saw a few of the men around him dabbing at their eyes. A quick shake of his head failed to dispel the image. He'd have bet a thousand dollars that nothing short of a visit from the devil himself could wrench a tear from these hardened men.
    Suddenly Willow slapped her leg and let out a wild whoop. Two dozen girls, all dressed alike in gaudy, thigh-high red- and white-striped outfits, danced onto the stage behind her. Linked arm in arm, they skittered across the wooden platform, yipping