The stench of perspiring bodies grew stronger in the afternoon heat, but she still preferred it to the pervading smell of stale beer and red-eye. In order to do her job, she also tolerated the heavy smoke that hung overhead despite the early hour; the shrieks of feminine laughter from either Lola, Maggie, Denise, or Paulette—Helen was not an offender—and the endless noise generated by the slap of cards and responsive moans of dispirited men at the busy gaming tables. A gentle but untalented fellow named Otto banged out continuous and unrecognizable tunes at the ancient piano, adding to the din. Despite the early hour, several of her most persistent and ardent admirers had gathered—cowboys who truly believed a lucky one of them would have his attention rewarded with some private time with her. None appeared to realize that she was interested in only one man. Continuing to respond to their conversation with smiling and suggestive quips, Samantha glanced around her. She noted that Helen and Jim Sutton sat at a table in the corner.
