Shouts of anger and laughter would ring out above the general buzz of conversation. Boot heels stomped the sawdust floor and once every now and again a bottle or glass would shatter. Ole Bill the piano player would play his heart out to be met with, normally apathy and sometimes anger. He played facing the crowd so that he would know when to duck the projectiles hurled in his direction. Brawls were a common occurrence and those not finished swiftly by fist would spill into the street to be settled by gun. The Lonely Lady saloon was quite the colorful joint. But when Molly Elizabeth began to sing, well it would damn near break your heart. Ole Bill would begin her introduction number and a hush would fall over the crowd. They’d learned those first notes in a way that was damn near like a bell trained pup. From her room upstairs Molly would emerge. Standing six feet tall Molly was a mountain of a woman and her presence made her feel nearly twice that size. Her eyes on her shoes Molly would put one foot in front of the other as she descended down the stairs in time with the music, each toe tapping home in time with the next note as the entire bar looked on transfixed. When Molly reached the floor and her spot alongside Bill she would finally allow her gaze to sweep across the crowd and her mesmerizing smile would light up the entire room. Audible sighs would escape the lips of most men and others in attendance for their first time would later recall feeling faint. And when Molly Elizabeth finally began to sing, well there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house. If you’ve ever seen a drunken cowboy cry you know it isn’t a pretty sight. All that inner steel and outer wool, it all just melts away as the pain comes to the surface and they remember all the wrong they have done. The Lonely Lady was more than a saloon. The Lonely Lady was a chapel. The Lonely Lady was a temple. And Molly Elizabeth was an angel sent from heaven to absolve men of all their sins
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 03:59:25 +0000
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