Desperate by Sylvia McDaniel Page A

and then glanced at Annabelle. “She doesn’t want any pretty young girl working here in the restaurant. She’s going to take over being the waitress.”
    “Damn it, Rusty. I really needed this job. This work helps keep me and my sisters from starving.” Annabelle wanted to hit the bastard. “You tell your wife you would have faced the barrel of my gun if you’d touched me again.”
    She was tempted to find his wife and let her know how foolish the woman was acting, not that she’d care. The woman feared Annabelle would take her precious man. Frankly, she wanted nothing more to do with this idiot.
    Rusty stared as his mouth dropped open. She grabbed the money from his hand. It was hers. She’d worked hard and put up with bad customers, a touchy boss, and now his irate wife. She deserved more, but would take what she could get.
    “It’s three weeks salary. I gave you an extra week.”
    “Thanks,” she said with a sigh, her heart heavy. What would she do now? “You’re a bastard, Rusty. I worked hard for your restaurant.”
    He swallowed and gazed down at the floor. “I’d keep you, but the missus has not let me near her since she saw me touching you. I have to let you go.”
    The urge to take a frying pan and slap him upside the head was almost too much to bear. But she was never one for violence, and it wouldn’t help the situation. Her best bet was to take her pride and go home. But damn, she hated losing this job.
    “Next time, keep your hands to yourself.”
    He shrugged. “It’s hard not to touch a pretty woman like you.”
    The audacity of the man. Maybe she’d be doing his wife a favor if she just pulled out a gun and shot him. But then the wife was the one insisting Annabelle leave, and frankly, neither one of these two fools was worth spending her life in prison. “Do you think I care?”
    “No. You were a good waitress, Annabelle. If you need a reference, let me know, and I’ll be happy to recommend you.”
    She stared at him unable to believe the nerve of this idiot. Had her father never let them work before because he knew what kind of people they would have to learn to deal with? Could he have known and not wanted his daughters subjected to morons who communicated with their hands.
    The wife came to the door. “Rusty, it’s time to go home.”
    He sighed, and Annabelle stood. “Thanks Annabelle. Good luck to you.”
    Annabelle stalked from the restaurant. She wanted to kill something. To take her gun and shoot at anything that moved at the moment.
    Instead, she took the horse Ruby had left her and rode out of town. Damn, what would she tell her sisters?
    *
    It was quitting time. It was Friday. It should be payday. As Meg was leaving, she glanced over at her boss, half asleep in his chair. His wife was in the back, overseeing the laundry, while her husband took a nap.
    The mending was finished, and Meg feared Ho Chinn wouldn’t pay her for what she’d done. If he hadn’t paid her a penny so far, who was there to require he compensate her for the work she’d done? What if he refused to give her the wages she’d earned?
    “Ho Chinn,” Meg called, waking him up from his slumber.
    He glanced at her, his eyes drowsy. She almost hated this man. But yet, he had given her a job.
    “When are you going to pay me?” she asked.
    “Not today. Go home,” he said.
    “When are you going to pay me?” she asked again, her voice more demanding.
    “Not today,” he responded more adamantly and waved his hands at her. “Go home.”
    Fear trickled through her. Her fingers were sore; her eyes felt crossed, but the work was done. Completed. And now where was her compensation?
    “Give me a date or I’m no longer working for you.”
    “I’m the boss. I will tell you when you get your money.”
    Fierce anger swept through her as she clenched her fists at his lack of feeling. Didn’t he realize the reason she was working was because she needed money?
    She stepped up to the counter and faced him,