"Lola, when will you let me take you away from all this and make an honest woman of you?"<br/><br/>The voice behind her belonged to Mr Peters, who owned the local drug store.  His wife had died several years ago, he hadn't yet taken another, and his standing invitation to rescue her from debauchery was not entirely jovial.  Lola knew, should she give him even the slightest indication she would accept his offer, that he'd have an appointment at the courthouse the very next day.<br/><br/>"What, and drag me away from all this?" Laughing along with him, she slipped her arm through his and cocked her head towards the dancefloor.  "How about a good old fashioned dance instead?"  Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and she knew she had just made his day.  It was the best part of the job for Lola.  Giving men, forgotten or otherwise, a reason to head home at the end of the night with a smile on their face, and an urge to come back tomorrow.  No wonder her name was mud amongst the wives in town.  Not that that bothered her any.  Lola had never been one to base her sense of self worth on the opinions of others.  She was an independent woman.  The only one of her kind in Silver City, and it was only natural that she would be seen as a threat by the ladies in town.<br/><br/>After a few whirls around the dance floor and a chaste kiss on his cheek, Lola took her leave from Mr Peters and continued to mingle amongst her guests.  Having made the decision not to succumb to the despair that had threatened to crush her earlier, she continued to politely decline most of the never ending supply of drinks bought for her.  However, Lola was shrewd, and she had the game down to a fine art.  Every now and then she would accept a drink, but never from the same man twice in the same night, or even in the same week.  It was what kept the men folk buying whiskey in two's.  Her sales were effectively double when she was working the floor.<br/><br/>Several dances later, Lola excused herself from the group of miners she had been entertaining, and made her way to the bar.  Tom knew her routine, and already had a glass of water waiting for her, a refreshing slice of cucumber floating lightly on the top, just the way she liked it.  Sipping it delicately, she leaned back on the bar, watching her customers enjoy themselves.  Bill, the owner of the local stockfeed, was making his way toward her through the crowd.  He looked troubled, and Lola hoped that it wasn't marital  again.  It was no secret that his wife was somewhat...volatile.  On more than one occasion he'd been seen in<em>Lola's</em>sporting a black eye.  If Bill was to believed, he'd walked into every door in Silver City.<br/><br/>"Evenin', Lola," his gravelly voice cut through the noise as he nodded towards Tom for a whiskey.  "Can I tempt you into joining me?"  His voice was hopeful, and coupled with the weight of the world look he was wearing, it took all of Lola's self control to say no. She'd already reached her self imposed quota.  He smiled resignedly.  "Maybe next time, then."<br/><br/>Lola watched him throw back the whiskey, and immediately order another.<br/><br/>"Bill, is everything okay?"  She rested her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  "You look troubled.  You know I'm a good listener, if you need to talk."  Lola could fill a book with the trials and tribulations of her customers that she'd listened to over the years.  It was all part of the service, as far as she was concerned.  "Did you want to join me in a booth?  It's a bit more private than here at the bar."<br/><br/>Bill shook his head and threw back his third whiskey.  Lola was really getting concerned now.<br/><br/>"Thanks, Lola.  But there's nuthin' anyone can do.  It's too late.  I'm out of options.  Thanks to that bastard King," he spat.<br/><br/>Lola's heart sank.  Had Desmond King put the squeeze on Bill like he had her?  And what was it too late for?<br/><br/>Before she could question him further, or offer him any more reassurance, Bill had thrown enough coins on the bar to cover his tab, downed a fourth whiskey, and headed for the door.  Lola watched him go, a heaviness settling over her heart.  It seemed that there was more to Mr King than met the eye.<br/><br/>And perhaps Lola needed to talk to Jackson sooner, rather than later.<br/><br/>