The story behind the story: This short story is an intervention of the first scene in Shakespeare’s King Lear. It’s set on the American frontier, and being an avid Western-reader, I can honestly say I had a hard time writing it. Putting Shakespeare into a western genre worked brilliantly. He was quite popular in the West. As one cowboy put it: “Gosh! That fellow Shakespeare could sure spill the real stuff. He’s the only poet I ever seen what was fed on raw meat” (Van Orman 1974, p. 38)!

It was late when I rode into Salt Lake City. I’d just come back from being on the cattle route and I was weary as all hell. We’d lost six men to Apaches in one of the fiercest battles I’d ever seen on the trail. It was late in the season and water was scarce. By the time we reached the stockyards, the cattle were thirsty and gaunt. I was glad to reach town that night. I rode down the main street, passing numerous hotels and dry good stores before dismounting outside The Palace Saloon. Yellow light tumbled from the doorway and fell to pieces on the dusty street. Whoops and yells tumbled with it. I tethered my worn-out horse to the water trough and went inside. I needed a drink.

The Palace was a raucous mix of whiskey-filled ranchers, cow punchers, townsfolk, and the common tramps. Right in the middle of all that gambling and drinking and carryin’ on stood a weathered looking piano. A woman was bashing away at it while a group of men stood around singing, raising their glasses and tipping whiskey everywhere. The card tables were scattered with old cigarettes and the pool table stank like piss. The bartender stood polishing glasses with a quick eye. He missed nothing. He saw the way the men staggered; the way the ladies on the mezzanine fanned themselves nonchalantly; the way the fourteen-year-old kid in the corner witnessed everything with a wary eye – his innocence shrinking back to hide, only to come back when it was appropriate. The Palace wasn’t one of those high-falutin’ places where they only served coffee and a man was required to present himself all dandified before bein’ let in. Every man with money in his pocket was welcome at The Palace no matter what he looked like. Every night at The Palace someone was shot. Every night, sleep was forgotten and the roulette’s spun the morning in. And every evening at five, Dent Helville counted his earnings. He and his three daughters ran the place. Dent was a huge man – mighty powerful. He owned half the town and had shares in most of the nearby ranches. The night I rode in from the cattle drive was the night everything changed for Dent. It was the night he decided to get very drunk. He came out roaring and cursing. I was sitting at one of the card tables drinking coffee with a man from my outfit. We both turned to stare at him…   

***

Carmen ignored the muffled racket rising up through the timber floorboards. She glanced out her window at the street below. An outfit of dust-covered cow punchers was just coming in from a drive. She watched their lined faces and weedy forms and wondered what life would’ve been like had she been born a man. She turned from the window and went back to her writing. May came in and leaned against the doorframe listlessly. Carmen heard her sigh.

“Father’s drunk again.”

Carmen didn’t look up.

“Go dunk his head in an ice bucket, then.”

May stayed a moment then left without a word. The din from the bar grew louder. A glass smashed and Carmen heard the sound of wood splitting. She hated this place. She knew how degrading her position was – working in The Palace was close to working in a brothel. Wild, lonely men made their way through the doors every night and Carmen would have nothing to do with them – unlike her sisters, Rena and May who had everything to do with them. Consequently, Rena and May made more money than her. And Carmen felt the shame of it.

***   

Things were getting fierce – Dent Helville’s tongue had been loosened by the liquor and he was starting to talk about his assets too much. I could tell the men didn’t like it. It was uncharacteristic of Helville to be so indiscrete and if there was one thing the people of Salt Lake City didn’t like, it was a man – a powerful, influential one at that – acting out of character and surprising them all. Dent was nasty when he was drunk. By now, some of the men had left; others had stayed, gambling quietly in the corners of the saloon or drinking beer innocently at the bar. My friend and I still sat at the card table playing poker. We glanced at each other now and again whenever Dent got loud. My friend soon tired and left me alone. I lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair, anticipating action. I wasn’t going anywhere. Dent was ranting now. Men started moving out of his way whenever he got near. I watched the smoke rise to the roof. Helville was sitting at a table across the room with a couple of big ranching names and I could tell they were wary of him. Suddenly, Dent slammed his fist into the table, sending a glass to the floor. One of the men sitting with him rose and moved to stand against the wall. May and Rena come out of the kitchen and Dent turned to them.          

“Get Carmen down here!” he bellowed.

Rena went upstairs and came back with Carmen following behind. Carmen looked completely at home, almost indifferent. When Helville saw her, he calmed down. He regarded her casually and blinked. I had never seen Dent Helville look so stupid and yet there was something dangerous about him. The bar was quiet. Dent finally spoke in a low and menacing tone.     

“Carmen – you’re not making enough money around here.”      

Carmen looked away. This was a clear swipe at her dignity, and everyone in the room knew it. I was disgusted. Carmen said nothing. Helville grabbed her by the collar of her dress and threw her to the ground. Several men stood up, one rushed to Helville and held him off, but Helville knocked him down. Carmen got up and quietly brushed the dirt off her dress like it was a natural, normal thing to do. Then she spoke.

“I do my duty as you’re daughter. I draw the line at whatever abhorrent thing it is you’re suggesting.”

“You’ll do as you’re told or get out!”

I stood up. I dropped my hand to my gun. Then Ed came around from the bar.

“You’re drunk Helville – too drunk to know what you’re doing.”

Dent stared at him. For a minute we all thought he was going to shoot the man.    

“Stay outta this Ed! It’s none of your affair!”

“This ain’t right, Helville and you know it – Carmen’s spoken rightly.”

No one had ever dared challenge Dent Helville and that night, Ed paid for it.

Helville swore at him. He told Ed to pack and leave. Ed scoffed.  

“Not until you pay me off!”

“Like hell!”

And with that, Helville drew and shot Ed right there in the middle of the saloon. Ed was spun clean around from the force of the bullet that tore through his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground. Every man was silent and stared at Dent. In the next few seconds all the fight seemed to go out of him, and he shuddered and lowered his arm, still holding the gun. Men muttered and shook their heads. Every man in the room had seen Ed shot down without a clean break, but none were brave enough to testify against Dent in court. Helville looked down at Ed coldly.

“Get this bastard off my floor,” he said.

Men hurried to get Ed out. May started mopping up the blood and Carmen turned to go back upstairs. But Helville would have none of it.

“I said get off my place Carmen!”

For the first time that night, Carmen’s face registered shock. When Dent spoke again, his voice was low,

“I mean it girl – you’re not worth the money it costs me to keep you.”

Carmen’s shock turned to anger.

“I’ll go then Father – and I’ll be better off for it,” she spat out.   

I slid back into my seat. The atmosphere in the bar went flat and everything sunk to quiet. The men picked up their glasses and resumed their drinking and card playing. When Carmen came back down, Dent was nowhere to be seen. She was holding a small carpet bag and had put on an old overcoat. I went over to her and introduced myself. I asked if she needed an escort.    

“No thank you. I have travelled hard before and like sleeping under the stars.”

I smiled at that.  

“Well, if ever you need anyone, I’ll be here.”

She thanked me and we shook hands. As she left the bar, the wooden doors swung back with a thud. I walked to my table, leaned back in my chair, and lit another cigarette. I watched the smoke hover.

***

The stars are millions. On the edge of the Great Salt Lake, she sits by the fire. The Great Salt Lake is an eerie expanse of white surrounded by black mountains. The night is still. A noise sounds somewhere out in the desert. It scrapes the silence, and Carmen jumps up from her log. She stands. She takes a few steps into the darkness.   

“What was that?” she whispers. And then, as if for comfort she tells herself, “Nothing – it was nothing.”