Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

Max had rented a corner room on the second floor across the street from Smythe’s saloon. It was just one of his many businesses. Their orders were to find out whatever they could about him, watch him until the railroad men arrived, and then assist the law however they could. The evidence pointed to Smythe, but the crooked judge couldn’t be ruled out. Since the railroad barons had more money than Smythe to buy a jury, he’d be found guilty no matter what. But Max believed in justice. He wanted to gather enough proof to haul the prisoner East for a proper trial.

“Hames still wearing that ugly green plaid suit?” asked Sam. As the sun was still up, he’d had to stay in the room while Max was out so there wouldn’t be two of them wandering about.

Max nodded, then cocked his head. He held up his finger to stop Sam’s further questions as someone came down the hall. The slow shuffle and thump sounded like a heavyset person with an injured leg. A scrape against the wall meant he might be drunk and was using it to stay upright. The off-key version of the song presented by one of the dancers at Ruby’s Saloon seemed to confirm it. The doorknob rattled. Max waited. A quiet three knocks followed by a sharp one had him nodding at Sam. He pulled the door open. A heavyset man stumbled into the room, totally in character with the drunk he pretended to be. His scruffy brown hair matched his long moustache and beard. He smelled as if more beer and cheap whiskey had missed his mouth than went in. But the keen brown eyes meeting Max’s held a spark of intelligence that didn’t fit his behavior, clothing, or stench.

“Took you long enough to get here,” scolded Max.

Joshua Gibson straightened to his full height, two inches beyond that of his older twin brothers, and glared down at them. “This is the last time I’m hiding in the corner like a played-out miner spending his last flakes of gold on rotgut.”

“You’re just upset the ladies don’t fall for you in that getup.” Sam, grinning widely, grabbed his younger brother and thumped his back. “How’ve you been?” He snickered. “Other than the usual.”

Josh might be younger by two years, but he was not only taller, he had more bulk, all of it muscle. He thumped Sam back even harder.

“You’ve put on weight again,” said Sam. He rotated the shoulder Josh had pounded. When Josh grinned, he retaliated by jabbing his fingers into Josh’s gut. He winced and shook his hand when they were stopped by a washboard stomach. “You’re built like a bull and just as stubborn as one.”

“The ladies agree about the bull,” replied Josh smugly. “If you find any who need to learn what a real man can do just point me in their direction. I’ll make up for your
short
comings.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Max had had enough of his brothers. They hadn’t seen each other for months, though they’d kept in touch through the network of agents. But their old rivalry never stopped. If he didn’t stop their mouths flapping now, they’d end up rolling on the floor with fists flying. That could draw a crowd, the last thing they needed.

“Enough! We’re here to work.”

Josh directed his eyes at Sam’s crotch, silently mouthing the word “short” again. To emphasize it he held up his thumb and finger with about two inches between them. Sam made a rude gesture that would have gotten anyone else well beaten and held up his index fingers about ten inches apart and then pointed to himself. Josh rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I said enough!” Max glared at Sam, the usual troublemaker. Josh was slow to rouse, but once he got furious, furniture, or worse, could be destroyed. While it might be enjoyable to see the two of them go at it, one of his rules was that fighting was not allowed on the job. At least, not with each other. He turned to Josh. “What did Mr. Pinkerton say about what we found?”

Josh shrugged out of his dusty coat and tossed it in the corner. He took off his bandana and sniffed his shirt, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He hauled it over his head and sent it fluttering after the coat, leaving him naked above his belt. Only when he’d poured water into the basin and began to wash up did he answer.

“Mr. Pinkerton doesn’t like corruption, but we are not Texas Rangers. Without proof even they can’t go after the guilty ones at the top of the dunghill. No matter how hard we have to hold our noses, the highest we can go is the likes of Smythe.”

Max slammed his right fist against his palm at Josh’s reply. If he was a cursing man he’d be doing it now. But he’d heard far too many of them as a boy, mostly directed at him. He calmed himself, refusing to give in to useless, destructive anger.

“I swear, Max, I’m going to shave this thing off.” Josh squeezed his fist down his long beard. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can find a woman and settle down.” He stopped talking to scrub his face.

“I already found us a woman,” said Sam. Josh cocked an eyebrow. Sam grinned back. “Sophie McLeod, owner of the Tanner’s Ford Hotel.” He sighed, acting up as usual.

Max had learned to choose his battles, so he’d let his two brothers work this out for a bit.

“She’s mighty fine,” continued Sam, making an hourglass motion with his hands. “Max thinks she’s too much for him, but with a bit of lovin’ she’ll calm right down.”

“She’s too independent,” said Max, jumping in before Josh got the wrong idea. “I can’t see her taking orders well. She’s had her own business for seven years.” He sent a message of warning to Sam. “There’s only one boss in an outfit, and that’s me. If she can’t follow my orders to the letter, I don’t want her.”

“Bit of a tyrant in the bedroom, are you?” Josh’s eyes gleamed when Max scowled. “I’d think you’d want a wild woman so you could tame her. Put her over your lap and paddle her bottom.”

The image had him harder than a fence pole in seconds. Josh and Sam noticed, of course. Both laughed.

“Your cock doesn’t care a fig about her independence,” said Sam, pointing out the obvious. “Neither do you, deep down. You just won’t admit it.”

From the way Sam winced and adjusted his pants, Max figured his brother was equally uncomfortable.

“I want a wife who’ll be an excellent mother,” he said. “She’ll protect her children and raise them right, but she has to know who’s boss. And that’s me.”

He pointed to his chest with his right thumb. It was no news to Sam and Josh. All his life, he’d protected his brothers from his father’s belt and fists. Sam, following a few minutes behind Max, was sickly as a youngster. He’d caught up by the time they were five, but by then Max was firmly in charge and he made sure he kept that control.

He wanted to spank Sophie, to tie her hands to the head of the bed so he could take his time, making her come again and again. He didn’t want to hurt her, yet the thought of seeing her round bottom turn pink with his handprints had him harder than—

“I want to buy a ranch.” Sam glared as if Max was already telling him to forget it. “It’s time we had our own land. I’ve had enough of working for others. No matter how good the money, it’s not enough anymore. Isn’t that ranch for sale, the one Orville Rivers used to own?” He turned to Josh. “It’s east of Tanner’s Ford. The north boundary is the road to Bannack City, and the south is the river, shared with the Running W ranch. Good bottom land, grazing on the slopes, and it rises right up to the mountains. You can almost see forever.”

Max had already talked to the new mayor of Tanner’s Ford, Trace Elliott, about buying the ranch. Trace told him there was a buyer already lined up. Max intended to change that, but he wasn’t ready to speak to his brothers about something so important until he worked out all the details.

“Neighbors good?” asked Josh.

Sam nodded. Josh’s eyebrows dropped, his usual expression while thinking. He picked up a shirt Sam had laid on the bed and used it to dry his face, underarms, and chest. Sam squawked as usual, but Josh’s tired glare told him to back off.

“Haven’t been there,” said Josh, “but a heap of quiet sounds good. I’ve had it with cities. Too many people, too much noise, too much dirt. I want to look past the ears of my horse and see nothing but our land, full of mountains, trees, cattle, and water. If there’s good hunting and fishing and the folks are the kind to protect your back, lead me to it.”

“Tanner’s Ford has all that,” replied Sam. He eyed Max. “As well as a certain merry widow.”

“Mrs. McLeod say anything useful when you were with her the other night?” asked Max.

“We didn’t talk much.” Sam scratched his chin and shot Josh a sideways look, one only a brother could give. An “I’ve got something you want and can’t have” look. “Mostly she just moaned and gasped until she screamed my name.”

Josh growled his disgust and threw the wet cloth at Sam’s head. Sam caught it before it touched his face and threw it back.

“Don’t egg him on, or I’ll let him have you.” Max snarled the words at Sam, who shrugged, still grinning, and winked at Josh.

“Wait’ll you see her. Sophie’s got more curves than—”

“What happened when I left the Golden Nugget after talking with Hames?” Max raised his voice at Josh to drown out his twin. “I figured it was you in the corner, snoring like you were halfway through a three-day drunk.”

“That was Hames in the ugly suit?” Josh snorted when Max nodded. “Man must be a fool. Those green-and-black checks make it easy to track him.”

“Unless he does it to be obvious and then sneaks out later dressed in dark clothes,” added Sam.

Josh nodded his agreement at the point. “Right after you left Stickley came out of Smythe’s office. The two of them looked thick as thieves. Hames was sitting nearby scribbling in that book of his. He looked over, but they made sure not to see him. I saw a flash of a scowl before Hames looked down again.”

“That’s odd. Hames is a newspaperman,” said Max. “He could influence what’s put in the paper about Smythe’s saloon and should already know him. I’d expect him to want to be seen with Hames rather than to avoid him”

“Maybe it had something to do with the other man in the meeting with Smythe and Stickley. He didn’t come out of the room until a few minutes later. He’s my height, though blond with muscle going to fat. Women would call him handsome from a distance. Like Smythe, he flashes gold and diamonds and dresses well. His cuffs and collar need turning and one of his boots needs a new sole, so he’s had money but is low on funds. I expect he’s eager to earn more and doesn’t care how. He grabbed the arm of one of the younger serving girls so hard she cried out.”

“You do anything about it?” asked Sam, eyes narrowing.

“Couldn’t, but Smythe warned him off. He likes them young and she’s still got some innocence about her. I expect he isn’t finished with her yet.” Josh curled his lip. “The girl looked as scared of her boss as she did of the man grabbing her. I wanted to sink my fist into both of their faces for the way she scuttled into the kitchen, rubbing her arm.”

“You’ll have to stand in line,” said Sam, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

“Either man could be Isaac,” said Max.

“Who?”

“That’s right,” said Sam to Josh. “You don’t know about that lowdown, son of a—”

“Watch your language!”

“—of a mudsill.” Sam dared Max to complain about the word.

Josh looked from one brother to the other. “He beat women?”

Max sighed. He shook his head. “Worse.” Josh crossed his arms, set his feet wide, and stared at him like a bull thinking about charging. His posture said that no matter who the man was, Josh would have more than words with him. Max agreed, but wasn’t so obvious about his eagerness.

“We picked up another job,” said Sam, jumping in.

“Lily Thatcher and Sophie McLeod hired us to track down and arrest a man calling himself Mr. Isaac. Lily’s paying for our time and Sophie’s providing room and board when we’re in Tanner’s Ford.”

“He the one who branded that woman who had the bakery, Sarah something?”

“She’s Sarah Frost now,” said Sam, waggling his eyebrows. “Another of the women sharing their bed with three husbands. That makes eight of them. Not that I’m counting.”

“You’re jealous.” Josh stretched out his arms. He winced at the small popping noises.

“Not of marriage,” replied Sam. He looked far too confident, like a cat expecting a bowl of the richest cream. “I’ve got plans for Sophie that involve a bed, and little sleep.”

Max swatted Sam in the back of the head. “Pull your horns in. We’ve got work to do.” He turned to Josh while Sam scowled. Max figured his hand hurt a lot worse than the back of Sam’s head. All three of them were hardheaded, in too many ways. “Our agents found a trail leading here from around Virginia. Isaac might have come from anywhere before that, but there were so many women attacked during and after the war that we can’t find a pattern. The one thing the women have in common is a brand on one hip in the shape of a capital
I
, which we figure is for Isaac.”

“Like the one I heard Sarah has.” Josh rubbed his forehead. “Why do you think Smythe’s the one who beat, burned, and murdered all those women?”

“Opportunity and inclination,” said Max. “Smythe likes young women, and likes it rough. He has a temper and enjoys taking vengeance. If he can’t get it from the ones he’s after, he takes it out on those weaker. He threatened the wife of the J Bar C, Victoria Adams, with selling off Trace Elliott’s adopted daughters. They’re about fifteen and seventeen.”