Sugar

"You made a good choice, cowboy," Betsy said to Pike. "Sugar's not only pretty, she's talented, too."

"M'not a cowboy, ma'am," Pike said. "I've been a farmer and a soldier. But it's honest work, I reckon. So tell me, Sugar, what are you good at?"

"I'm from New Orleans, sir," the Negro girl said. "I can read, write, sew, sing and play piano." She gave Pike a broad smile with pride in her accomplishments, and drew back her shoulders to push her bust up and out toward the young man.

"She cuts all our girls' hair," Betsy said, "And mine too," the madam added, pulling at a flaming red tress. "And Sugar does our tailoring. She has the steadiest hands."

Pike smiled. "How did you get out here, Sugar?" he asked.

"Two men killed each other in a duel over me, sir," she said. "I was sad to leave the city behind, but not sorry."

"Are you a freewoman?" Pike asked.

"Yessir, free born all my days," Sugar said.

"Then I'll be pleased to keep company with you today."

"Play us a tune, Sugar, to put Mister Willie in a good mood," Betsy said. "Would you like that, sweet man?"

"I surely would, Miss Betsy," Pike said.

Sugar rose and seated herself at the piano. She turned her head over her shoulder and smiled coyly at Pike. She played a chord, then a short tinkling phrase, and launched into 'Old Folks at Home': "Way down upon the Swanee River, far far away. That's where my heart is turning ever, that's where the old folks stay..."

Pike moved beside the piano to watch her as she sang and played. Her chest rose as she breathed in deeply after each line, and the dark valley between her mahogany breasts was in near-full display in her low-cut purple and white petticoat. He imagined the chocolate-dark nipples still concealed beneath the fabric.

She followed 'Old Folks at Home' with 'Hard Times Come Again No More', and as she closed the song, "...'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lonely grave, oh hard times come again no more," Pike thought of his family's hard times that had brought him here seeking Aims. He felt his eyes watering, and dabbed with his bandanna, but too late to keep a tear from crossing his cheek.

"Oh, shame, Sugar!" Betsy cried. "Now see what you've done, you've made the gentleman cry. Play something happy!"

"It's her beautiful voice as much as the song," Pike said. "I'd be pleased to hear some more."

Sugar played some notes to introduce another song, and raised her voice with, "I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair, borne like a vapor on the summer air. I see her tripping where the bright streams play, happy as the daisies that dance on her way..."

Pike knew the song, and sang along with Sugar as she played. Her sweet tones in the familiar love song combined with the sight of her bright-eyed, pretty face and her ample figure to stir his loins. He looked forward to taking Sugar upstairs.

Sugar finished up, singing the final words, "on the soft summer air," and looked round at Pike. "Well you've got a fine voice yourself, Mister Willie," she said. She looked down at the bulge in the front of his trousers and laughed. "And since I know Betsy checked your guns, you must be gettin' in the mood. Care to come upstairs with me, honey child?"

"I surely would, Miss Sugar," Pike said. "You know, you put me in mind of a freedwoman I knew in Illinois."

"In the biblical sense, sir?" Sugar asked.

"Yes indeed," said Pike. He stuck out his elbow, and Sugar curled her hand inside as they began to mount the stairs.

Betsy's cheeks were flushed pink. As Pike had been watching Sugar, Betsy had been watching Pike. "Begging your indulgence, Mr. Willie, you can have your first one half price if you'd let me sit in and watch."

Pike laughed and considered the madam's offer.