Welcome to Saturday SerialsYou may remember Mistress Sweet from past Saturday Serials as the protective Dominatrix.
But at Mister Valance's Porch she's Miss Sweet, owner of a cozy saloon and a broken heart. Below is her story.
Saturday Serial - Miss Sweet's Saloon Part VIII
And so their goal had been achieved.
Miss Sweet and Mister Jake easily acquired the run down bar from the bank and set to putting it to rights. Their conniving clothes made an impression that day on the town.
Subconsciously, the display of finery, wealth and arrogance succeeded in shrouding them in a thin cloak of respectability bringing with it a new beginning for the heart-broken Miss Sweet complete with her first set of misfits, the quietly charming piano player thief and a ol' bitch with her pups.
Meanwhile, in a town not so far away, a young naive cowboy grew up into a cold cur of a man.
Funny how manipulative the heart is, especially on a fresh idealistic mind. That fistful of flesh twisted his thoughts into such a mess that his mental prowess was to be questioned. Of course, you would have to do that behind his back or you'd be liable to find yourself on your back along with a bloody nose.
Sure as the sun do rise every morning, he was cold as a spring creek and would flow over you just the same if you stood in his way.
Grumpy Gus was the name they whispered behind hands and into beers. He always had a scowl on his face and made a habit of staring down too curious children until they ran to cower behind their mother's skirts.
The townsfolk gave him his berth. They respected his space and his work. Tending to fire and hot steel all day etched thousands of tiny burns on his body and built massive callouses on his roughened hands. The smoke and liquor painted his eyes perpetually bloodshot with a hallow coldness that echoed the emptiness in his betrayed heart.
As was his habit, one night Gus was attempting to paint his eyes red and his heart black at the local saloon. A brave barmaid sat perched on his knee holding his beer while he held on to her more generous assets in a quest for oblivion.
His attention was wavering between the bounty in his lap and a raucous group in the corner. They appeared to be new to town and had managed to engage all the barmaid 'cept for the one shifting nervously on his lap.
There was a strangeness to them, an air of freedom that crawled right up under his skin and irritated his insides worse than Miss Pickering's mystery stew. What was with this group of riff raft, what business did they have in town?
As he pondered the intruders with his usual scowl and cold stare, the largest and oldest raised his head from the antics around the table and caught his eye… and held it.
And that is how he found himself grimace to grimace with a pock faced, low down dirty, hard hearted, wandering scoundrel...
Did you miss the beginning of this wandering wild west story?
Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII