Elisha’s Woman, page 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
Elisha’s Woman
Norah Hess
Copyright © 1977, 2017 by Elsie Poe Bagnara. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of The Evan Marshall Agency, 1 Pacio Court, Roseland, NJ 07068-1121, evan@evanmarshallagency.com.
Version 1.0
Originally published by Playboy Press, Chicago.
This work is a novel. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
For Emilie
From New York Times Bestselling Author
Norah Hess
Rachael Jobe is a woman who wants the love of only one man. But somehow her chances for happiness have always seemed to slip from her grasp. Now she is beginning a new life determined to change her luck forever and find true love. Even more, she vows that no man will ever hold her cheaply again. On the road to Devil's Ridge, she meets Adam Warden, who insults her and calls her a wayward girl. She knows he's her match and resolves to teach him a lesson he'll never forget.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 1
It was early spring in Jamestown, 1782. The day was half gone and Rachael Jobe still lay in bed. She rolled over on her back and groaned.
"This life is going to kill me," she muttered.
The old gentleman she had entertained last night had left her exhausted. Not only had he been demanding, but there was a bit of cruelty in him also. She was thankful that he came but once a month.
She glanced at the stack of money on the table and wondered if it was worth the abuse her body took. Leaning on an elbow, she examined her shoulders and breasts. Teeth marks and bruises liberally sprinkled the white flesh. "Damned old bastard," she mumbled.
She sighed and threw herself back on the bed. She would have to turn away a lot of customers while they were fading. Her gentlemen of the upper class would not care to see the marks of another man on her. Moreover, there were a couple who, she suspected, would upon seeing the marks get the idea that they too could handle her harshly.
She smiled grimly. It was a costly privilege to lay rough hands and lips on Rachael Jobe.
She counted the money. Satisfaction curved her lips. As always, he had been quite generous. She would be able to take several days off.
"I certainly earned the right," she thought. "I know how he put three wives in the grave."
And yet her body trembled as she remembered, with a somehow pleasant revulsion, the pleasure the old gent gave her once his own appetite was sated. She had learned early that the older man had a knowing way about him when it came to loving a woman. She thought it a shame that the young men with their firm and muscular bodies were so fumbling and eager. They went at a woman as if she were some wild creature that had to be subdued and brought rapidly to acquiescence. In their rashness they were a long time learning, if ever, that a woman properly made love to would more than repay the time and gentleness given her.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of its emptiness.
Last night she had left orders that a light supper be brought to her room around midnight. But when it was announced through the closed door, her impatient lover had sworn angrily and heaved a boot at the voice.
She reached for the small bell. Almost before the tinkle died away, a large black woman, wearing a wide grin, entered the room.
"You ready for your bath, honey, or do I bring you something to eat first?"
"Food, Beaulah, food. I'm starved."
Loud laughter boomed from the black throat. "I reckoned you'd be hungry after entertainin' 'old randy dan.' I watched him leave this mornin' and that old codger could hardly put one foot in front of the other."
She paused and waited for Rachael to make some disparaging remark. When Rachael smiled in agreement, she continued.
"That old rooster was so wrung out, his driver had to help him into the coach."
"I wish he would have crawled . . . he made such a pig of himself. He's an inconsiderate man."
"I know. Around midnight when I made a trip to the privy, his little driver was sittin' up on that coach, shiverin' and shakin'. You ought to have heard him cuss. He was rackin' you over the coals for keepin' the old gent in here."
Rachael gave a short laugh. "I sure as hell didn't encourage the old reprobate. I'd had my fill after fifteen minutes. Besides, I felt sorry for the horses out there in the cold. But when I mentioned it, the old goat just growled, "Get on with your work, girl. Get me up there."
"Wasn't nothin' you could do, honey, 'cept earn your wages."
Rachael sighed. "I earned them alright."
A twinkle appeared in her eyes and she teased, "Why didn't you take the driver into bed and warm him up?"
The big woman shook with laughter. "Not that little fellow. I saw him out back once and that little thing of his wasn't long enough to matter. He'd just be a teaser to Beaulah."
"You still have a yen for Roscoe, do you?"
"Oh, law yes. When that big stud comes at me, I just shiver. Roscoe, he's a humpin' man and I likes to feel it hit home."
"I thought it was all over between you two. Didn't you tell me that he wanted you to go to bed with his friends and that when you refused, he moved out?"
From the rosy flush that flooded Beaulah's face and the fast shifting of her eyes, Rachael knew that she had given in to her lover's demands. How deeply it must have hurt her. She hoped fervently that she would never love a man so.
Speaking with a false bravado, Beaulah was answering, "That's what he wanted me to do, but I told him plain out I wouldn't do it. He tried to scare me by movin' out, but when he saw I was firm, he come back."
"Good for you, Beaulah. You handled it just right." She didn't add that it was common knowledge that Roscoe spent most of his time with a younger, prettier girl these days.
As though afraid of the conversation going further, Beaulah left to prepare lunch.
Rachael scooted farther into the featherbed and wiggled her toes against the silky sheets that a rough and crusty sea captain had gifted her with. She looked forward to his trips upriver, for there was always something special for her. From the many ports he tied into came fancy dresses and sheer underclothing, not to mention the jewelry and heady perfumes.
There was also another reason. He was a most knowledgeable man in bed. From the many countries he had visited, he had acquired erotic tastes and had taught her much. When she in turn used her new knowledge on her customers, business had boomed. Every day Beaulah made large deposits in the bank for her.
But it had not always been this way. Her green, almond-shaped eyes went blank in remembering. Thinking back, she absentmindedly fingered the black silky hair that framed her delicately boned face.
Until three years ago, she had lived in poverty. She had been the only child of Ben and Alice Jobe. Her difficult birth had almost killed her frail mother and had left her in permanent poor health. When Rachael was twelve, her mother died one night as quietly as she had lived.
Although Rachael loved the gentle woman, she had not grieved overly at her passing. She had watched too long the suffering on the wasted face and could only be thankful when at last the pain was finished.
She had a motherly, protective love for her father. While still very young she had realized that Ben was weak of character and not to be depended upon. She had also learned to meet him at the mill on payday. If she didn't, the first tavern he happened on would be the recipient of the better part of his wages. It would fall on her then to beg credit at the grocery store and put off the landlord.
Her waiting at the mill's gate one afternoon had led to the profession she had successfully carried on for the last three years.
Even at fourteen she had been a beautiful child. She had matured early, and her ripe body had soon filled her old dresses to overflowing. She was aware that men stared at her, hunger sharp in their eyes, but she had been only mildly curious.
On that eventful day that was to change her way of life, she walked to the mill and waited patiently for Ben. With interest she had watched two men, full of drink, swagger toward her. They seemed to find everything around them funny and were laughing uproariously. The younger of the two, husky and roughly handsome, had a contagious laugh and she had laughed with him.
Hearing her merry tinkle in sympathy with his own, he stopped and peered at her owlishly. The two men drew together, and after a whispered conference, the young one beckoned to her. In friendliness and innocence, she walked across the tall grass and smiled a greeting.
As she stood trustingly before them, the young one, grinning loosely, laid an arm across her shoulder.
"Ain't you a pretty little thing?" he hiccuped.
When the other one, pock-faced and hawk-nosed, added, "She's got some body too," she blushed and giggled.
They said many complimentary words to her and she drank it all in. Often they made remarks that she did not understand, but wanting to hear more of their flattery, she had pretended that she did.
Later, when the husky one complained of standing and his companion suggested they go sit under a tree some distance away, she agreed without hesitation.
But when they went under the tree's ground-hugging branches, her new-found friends turned into different men—men whose eyes devoured her body with such an intensity that she became frightened and cowered away from them. They began to stalk her as she backed away with trembling knees. Then suddenly and without warning, she was grabbed and sent sprawling to the ground.
The surprise attack held her dumb and motionless. Then her eyes stretched wide in horrified fascination. The young one stood over her, unfastening his trousers. Once she had secretly watched Beaulah entertain Roscoe and he had stood over her in much the same manner. She squeezed her eyes tight, remembering what had followed.
She felt him kneeling between her legs, felt his rough fingers tearing away at her encumbering clothing. It was then she opened her mouth to scream. But the ugly one had clamped a hand over her lips.
Then hot searing pain shot through her body as the man made his entry and started a rhythmic motion. She tried to scream again, but the hand was relentless.
Then suddenly his hair was brushing her throat and his lips, hot and soft, were covering a bared breast. Gently he drew the nipple between his lips and sucked. The unexpected sensation made her eyes fly open and she gasped.
Gradually the pain became a dull ache, and taking the place of the tearing horror, a tingling throb began. Unconsciously she pressed the dark head closer to her breast, helpless against the emotion that was building within her. But with a few more short, quick shoves, the man between her legs gave a moan and collapsed on top of her.
The hawk-faced one raised his head and laughed at her startled expression. "He's too fast for you, doll face," he murmured as he took his friend's place. Then guiding himself into her, whispered, "I'll give you plenty of time."
He had been savage in his attack, but had knowingly lingered until she clung to him helplessly, moaning her ecstasy. When he felt her shudder and lie still, he too went limp.
Later, when he would have risen, she wound her arms around his neck, refusing to let him go. He chuckled and stayed with her.
When the men were ready to leave they did not go immediately, but stood around, shifting their feet nervously. They looked a little shamefaced and would not meet her eyes. They had raped a virgin and were none too proud of themselves, even though she had enjoyed it in the end.
The young one grinned down at her sheepishly and pulled some money from his pocket. Laying it beside her, he said, "That wasn't bad, little green eyes." He hesitated a moment then asked, "What about tomorrow night?"
She nodded her head dumbly and pulled her dress down over her knees.
The other one tossed some money into her lap and turned to go. Then he paused and turned around to study her fresh, young face a moment. "You go on home now and do something to yourself . . . so you don't get big bellied," he advised gruffly.
It was totally dark now, and by the pale light of the half-moon Rachael could hardly make them out as they reached the beaten path and moved out of sight.
"Everything is so different now," she thought. She felt so awake to the world around her. Looked at it through different eyes, it seemed. "I guess I'm a woman now."
She remembered the ugly man's advice and pondered on it. She knew that being big bellied meant being with child, but she had never known before just how it came about. She would have to confide in Beaulah and ask her what to do, she decided. Certainly she couldn't ask papa.
Papa. She had forgotten about him. The mill had been out for over an hour and by now most of his pay would be gone. She gave a ragged sigh. She was so weary of it all.
Then suddenly she became aware of what her fingers were playing with. She had money—money of her own. Never again would she have to worry about food and a roof over her head.
Giving a happy laugh, she jumped to her feet, kicked her torn underclothing into a nearby bush and ran for home. She would change her soiled dress, wash up, then go to the market.
"From now on, I'll eat the best and plenty of it," she vowed silently.
The next evening she went to the tree, and the two men, along with some friends, waited for her. In the early hours of morning her last customer had gone and her career was launched.
As the weeks sped by, she became very adept at the trade that provided her the security she had never known. In a box, hidden away from Ben, her little pile of money was growing.
She no longer bothered Ben about rent and food money. And although in his sober moments he wondered halfheartedly how the meals appeared regularly on the table and why they hadn't been set out upon the street, he never questioned her.
Then the warm summer evenings were coming to an end. Already most of her customers were seeking the pleasure houses that provided warmth and a bed.
In the beginning it had pleased the men's egos to lie with a woman on the earth's natural floor. They had derived pleasure out of knowing that just a few feet away other men were hearing their grunts and thumps and were envying them. But as Beaulah had warned, the first blast of cold air on their bare rumps had sent them scooting for warmer quarters.
One frosty morning she had sat at her kitchen table, staring out at the lowering clouds and worrying whether they would drop snow. A frown gathered on her forehead as she thought of the money she would lose. She sighed and poured another cup of coffee. Sipping it slowly, she relaxed in the cozy warmth and recalled how chilled she had been last night. And to worsen matters, only three men had showed up, hardly making it worth her while to have gone out.
She scowled into the coffee, musing on an idea she had toyed with for a long while. She would have done it long ago if Beaulah hadn't insisted that Ben wouldn't allow it. Sometimes she half suspected that it was Beaulah herself who didn't want the men coming to the house. Beaulah had loved Alice and maybe she felt duty-bound to look out for her daughter—to protect her reputation.
She rose and impatiently paced the floor. "To hell with my reputation," she thought. "Everyone knows what I am. Why should I worry what they think or say? They didn't feed me when I was pure and hungry, so to hell with them, now that I'm soiled and rich."
An hour later her mind was made up. After last night's small take and the winter weather about to bring business to a halt, she would argue the point no longer. She wouldn't even ask Ben's permission.
"I would starve to death if I depended upon papa," she defended herself.
Tossing a shawl around her shoulders, she took some of her hoarded money and visited the local tavern. After purchasing several bottles of good whiskey, she stopped at Beaulah's on the way home. By the time she left, she had bullied the black woman into agreeing that she would serve the men their drinks while they waited their turn in the bedroom.
By late afternoon, everything was ready and she had only to tell Ben. When at last she heard his unsteady step upon the porch, dark had fallen and great flakes of snow danced and swirled in the wind.
She did not waste time breaking her news gently to the man who stood blinking at her. Guiding him to a chair, she told him bluntly what she had been about all summer and what she proposed doing now. Ben had put up a slight resistance—had shed a few tears over what his baby was becoming. But his whiskey-soaked mind was not capable of showing any authority over her and he dumbly watched her leave the house.
She had returned in a short time with five men she had encountered on the street. They liked sitting in her little parlor, sipping her good liquor, and in no time word had spread about her new quarters.
It was soon after this that Rachael met the river captain. She had gone for a walk in the park to clear her brain and lungs of the tobacco smoke that clung in the house. It was quite nippy out and she decided to go home when the sky turned dark and threatened to snow. She turned to leave and passed a stocky man about middle-age. He was oddly attractive, with a shock of gray hair and thick eyebrows over hot eyes that slid over her body. His gaze fastened on her face, then his eyes sent a question winging at her. She stared back a moment, felt an answering need and nodded silently. He took her arm, and without a word, escorted her home.
