I stood outside the louvered, swinging doors of the notorious Gem Saloon, taking in the sights and sounds of the establishment I was about to enter. Al Swearengen, the well-known owner and proprietor of the Gem, was holding court behind the bar—a sawed-off was always within his reach. Dan Doherty and Johnny Burns, Al’s all-purpose men, stood ready to accomplish anything Al wanted, from serving drinks in busy times to beating a patron senseless, if Al so instructed.
Tricksie, Al’s Chief Whore-in-Charge, was working the room, making sure the girls were motivating the miners to buy drinks and take them upstairs for a poke. Motivation was mostly touches, kisses, breasts put briefly on display—whatever was necessary to part the miners from their coin. Toothless Tommy was banging out tunes on the seen-better-days upright. Miners were dancing with the whores.
Four men were sitting at a table near the entrance where a nameless whore, on her knees, was blowing one of them as the others cheered her on. Yup, just another Saturday night I thought, as I pushed through and made my way to the bar, spying BettyJo on the dance floor with a miner who could not afford to poke her. Knew she would soon be at my side.
Al brought me a beer and a gill of rye, my usual, as I laid coins on the bar.
“Hey, Charlie, glad you could make it tonight. The place is jumping. The prize fight will be starting in about an hour. You don’t want to miss that. Get your bet in early! New guy, Bendigo Thompson, is fighting. Put your money on him. Hey Tricksie, get BettyJo over here for Charlie. Fer chrissakes, can’t you see the man’s in need of female company.”
“She’ll find her way to me. I know she saw me come in. Let her give the miner a bit of fun.”
“Fuck that! Dances are only ten cents. You’re gonna take her for the night, right? Drop a few hundred. You know she’s worth it. Best little fucker in town.”
Laughing, I said, “Al, you could sell dirt to the miners if you packaged it right. All your girls are the ‘best little fuckers in town,’ right? Besides, I need a bit of lubricating. Running that mine is gonna break me, body and soul.”
Right about then I felt a warm, soft body begin to press into mine as her hand slid over my right hip and began teasing my johnson. I didn’t need to look to see who that was.
“Ah, BettyJo... You’re a salve to my old bones.”
“Hopefully, also for your soul. What's more, you’re not old, Charlie. You’re just workin' yourself near to death.” Then, moving her lips to my ear, she whispered, ”Get me a bottle of Al’s good champagne and yourself a bottle of rye. We’ll spend the night in my room. You know I’ll make a new man of you by morning.”