Cowboys and Highlanders (97 page)

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Immediately pulling out of her, he gathered her into his arms.

She fiercely clung to his neck. Uncontrollable tears spilled down her cheeks onto his shoulders. “Hold me, Train, just hold me.” Together they climbed beneath the covers and held tightly to each other.

The following morning, the idea of leaving her now gnawed at his gut. The uncertainty with the brothel only added to his uneasiness. Marion assured him the girls were receptive to the change in command, but some would undoubtedly harbor resentments toward Marion.

“When you return with the mares, I’ll be ready to leave for the ranch. I need to wait until I hear from Sandy’s brother. If he wants to stake claim on the brothel, I’m going to stay in town and fight. If I don’t, I’ll be letting the girls down. Our brothel is a safe place for them to live and work. If he tries to close me down, who knows where these girls will end up.”

“I’ll be gone ten days at the most. If he makes trouble, stall until I can get back. If he persists, you have one of the girls cover and you go for TJ. Promise, Marion, or I’ll ride for TJ now.” His expression turned serious.

“I suppose as my husband you have a right to be protective,” she said a touch of amusement tickling her tone.

“This could be serious. It’s not the time for foolishness. If there’s going to be trouble, I want myself or TJ handling it.”

“Yes sir.” She saluted.

“Careful, sweetheart, or someone might presume you’ve become an obedient wife.”

She laughed. “You’re not that lucky,” she said, then slapped his rear. They blew out the lamps before they left the hotel room.

“I’ll walk you in, but I can’t stay,” he said as he escorted her to the brothel. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I have more reason to worry about you riding to Wyoming alone.”

He disagreed. Serving as madam of the brothel projected the wrong image to men who patronized the establishment, especially those who considered themselves regulars of hers. “Where will you sleep?”

“In my room--alone,” she said tersely. “Where would you like me to sleep?”

He wanted to say, with me, but decided she wouldn’t find him amusing.

“Sandy’s room has a lock,” she said as they walked through the parlor. “I’m safe here.” She tossed her carpetbag into Sandy’s office. “You should get going.” She stood before him in the hall. “I’ll miss you.” She gently brushed her lips against his.

“Take care,” he tipped his hat and quickly left the brothel.

Chapter Ten

Marion twisted the ring on her finger enjoying its feel and returned to Sandy’s office to sort through the remaining contents in the desk. Most of what she found seemed unimportant.

“Coffee?” Cassie stood in the doorway holding two cups. She crinkled her brows looking at several piles on the sofa and chair. “I was going to join you, but there’s no place for me to sit.”

Marion pointed to a clear spot on the floor. “It looks unorganized, but each pile is specific; one for garbage, one for papers related to the business, and over there are personal notes I thought her brother might appreciate.” Marion held up a stack of papers. “She saved everything.”

“Marion, come quick!” one of girls hollered for her. “The sheriff is here.” Marion jumped from her seat and rushed to the parlor.

“Can I help you?” she asked, stepping between Janine and Rebecca blocking her path.

A man blustered, passing a malevolent glare at everyone clustered in the hallway. “I presume you are the whore who contacted me regarding my sister’s death.”

Although not as tall as Marion, he stood ramrod stiff. Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked like the mission ministers that often came through town on their way to Blackfoot territory, but he had none of the kindness in his tone. A white starched collar ringed below a prominent Adam’s apple was the only thing breaking up the persona of stern taskmaster. An angry man, with lips curled into a snarl.

Sandy’s brother? Marion tried to comprehend the contradiction of putting this man in the same family with her friend. She raked her gaze over him, biting back a laugh at his thinning hair, cut short around the ears and swept long over the top to cover his growing balding spot.

“Mrs. Marion Spencer,” she said, allowing this man to experience the tone of defiance that was part of her character. “I sent the telegraph with my deepest condolences. You return the consideration by storming in here with the sheriff. I had every intention of meeting with you as I already explained.”

“Your convoluted wire is precisely why I am here,” he said, his black, beady eyes narrowing into slits. “As my sister’s only living relative, I’m here to collect her Earthly possessions. That includes this house of sin,” he bellowed, chest swelled as if he spoke from the pulpit. “I don’t know what type of charlatan you are, but my sister’s only salvation depends upon my cleansing the stain she left upon this world.”

Marion closed her eyes and counted to ten. It would not be wise to antagonize this man now, even though she wanted to cut his condescending tongue from his mouth. “If we could be civil to one another perhaps we could find a compromise. Would you care to sit in the kitchen and talk over a cup of coffee?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I should say not! You are a whore, Madam. I come with the sheriff to give you three days to vacate the building. Your contracts will be sold to the highest bidder.”

“That will be impossible,” she said with satisfaction filling her heart. “Sandy no longer carries contracts on the girls.” Marion folded her arms in front of her chest. “Just last week Sandy sold the brothel and the contracts to me.”

He sniffed, causing his nostrils to flare. “Impossible, Mrs. Spencer.” He spoke her name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You see, I own fifty percent of the building. The sheriff can attest to the clarity of the deed. In the event of my sister’s death, the building reverts to my sole proprietorship.” He brushed his sleeve as if removing dirt. “You have three days.” Without another word, he left.

“Can he do it?” Cassie put her hand on Marion’s arm. “Where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” she said cautiously. “I guess I better find out.”

Marion changed into the dress she wore to Allison’s wedding. It was most assuredly overstated, which was fine since she intended to leave a lasting impression. Perhaps a week ago she was a whore. However, today she was a married woman, and owner of a profitable business. She was not going to be dismissed as a stupid woman by an arrogant, narrow-minded man who didn’t recognize a fighter when he saw one. Sandy had taught her better than that.

She took the legal papers from Sandy’s office stating the purchase price paid in full. She’d have to give her husband a kiss when she saw him. If he hadn’t been determined to win her affection, she would have no claim to the brothel. She would have had to work for months to fulfill the contract.

“Cassie,” she said with determination. “Sandy kept a rifle under her bed. It’s loaded and ready to fire. If there’s trouble, I want you to get it. Hopefully, the sight of cold steel will be deterrent enough and you won’t have to shoot anyone.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly. “I can’t believe this is happening. But you know what? I’m not leaving. I don’t care what that beady-eyed jerk says.”

“Sandy thought he might cause problems.” Marion straightened her lace-trimmed collar, studying her reflection. “I’m sure she thought of all possibilities.”

* *
*
* *

It started out as a drizzle. The temperatures quickly dropped as Train traversed the narrow canyons into Wyoming. His impressive sense of direction never led him astray. With the sun as a guide, he could find his way anywhere. However, black ominous clouds overhead caused him a problem. Disorientation loomed to impede his journey in the growing dimness. Time to find shelter until the storm passed.

Clive fought against the wind, neighing with the mounting tension of the rider. In the middle of nowhere, Train was halfway to his destination. He pushed Clive until they were through the mountains, but the flat land ahead of them could be more treacherous. Mountains offered protection from the wind. However, finding a suitable shelter from the rain, and possible snow on the steep terrain would be difficult.

Train pulled his woolen collar close around his neck and thought about Marion, warm and welcoming, beneath him to help keep the cold at bay. The lusty way she responded to his touch had driven him crazy. He’d never been impatient with a woman, but Marion had been unlike any previous experience. Nothing compared to the feeling of being inside his wife. It was like coming home after a long ride. He’d never imagined fitting a woman so perfectly.

The men ribbed enough times. He wasn’t lacking in size. It was incredible to know Marion found pleasure in his body. One of his greatest concerns had been that he wouldn’t be able to satisfy her, making her regret marriage or worse, she’d return to the brothel. He no longer had that fear.

A grove of trees with thick trunks and heavy canopy caught his attention. It wasn’t much protection for Clive. He figured he could use dead branches for a nice fire, and the saddle blankets would warm the horse.

“Come on.” He spurred Clive. “Another day, another delay.”

Once settled, and with a small fire to fight the chill, he waited for the weather to clear.

Train rested a few hours during the night despite the icy cold drizzle soaking the blankets and bedroll. He tried to create a shelter from branches and brush. Howling through the trees, the wind spooked Clive and kept the heat of the fire from penetrating into his wet clothing.

Sunrise brought little relief from the chill. Although still overcast, the rain had stopped. Train changed into dry clothing. The ground was soft and muddy. His boots sank into an inch of sludge as he saddled Clive. “Sorry,” he said to his horse as he mounted. “We’re both going to be miserable today.” Slowly, so the horse could have sure footing, he continued through the mountain pass. He figured that at this slower pace, it would be another full day’s ride before he reached the horse ranch. He pulled his hat low and hunkered down for the bitter ride.

* *
*
* *

Marion sat in the office with a copy of the property deed in her lap and a bottle of whiskey in her hand. She had no claim to the building, but basically had a harem of slaves. Sandy had failed to remember that she could not legally sell the building.

“We don’t have a chance. He wins, and we lose.” Marion met Cassie’s stare then took a swig from the bottle. “I admit I enjoyed watching the weasel squirm when Sheriff Brady told Mr. Jensen he didn’t have access to Sandy’s money.”

Cassie took the bottle and drank. “So the money, the contracts, and all this…” She handed back their shared bottle and splayed her hands wide implying all the furnishings. “…belongs to you?”

“That’s how the sheriff sees it. Mr. Ezra Jensen owns the building, but he doesn’t own us.” Marion lit a cigarette and leaned back.

“Mr. Weasel doesn’t know the sheriff like you do.” Cassie giggled. “I thought he was going to shoot himself in the foot when you introduced yourself. This town is going to be shocked when word spreads about you getting married. Train better watch his back. A few friends of yours aren’t going to be happy about your retirement.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Train. He carries a big gun.”

Cassie licked her lips and smiled. “Lucky you.”

Two days after Marion received the news about the brothel she went to the livery to ask if there was an able man to ride to the Bester Ranch with an urgent message. For a small fee, the rider agreed to take her letter to TJ and immediately rode out of town.

“Go for the sheriff, Cassie,” Marion said, with the window drapery pulled to the side.

Mr. Jensen stood outside the brothel, on the other side of the street, an evil sneer on his face and a large bible in his hand.

“Tell him I’m in need of his service.” Marion let the drape fall back into place and turned to her friend. “His professional service. This isn’t a social call.”

An hour later, Sheriff Brady sat across from her in the kitchen and sipped a cup of coffee. “I don’t know what to tell you, Marion. He has a legitimate interest in the activities and goings on. This is his building.”

“He’s scaring away business.”

“I told Mr. Jensen to give you girls a couple of weeks. I don’t really have the authority, but I suspect he knows I could make trouble for him. Would you like me to stay with you until arrangements can be made to vacate the building?”

“I appreciate the offer,” Marion said.

“Where’s your husband, Mrs. Spencer? Or did you say that to intimidate Mr. Jensen?”

Marion made a fist to feel her wedding ring bite into her skin. “It’s official. I’m not a working girl anymore. Train and I are married. I’ll be leaving town in a couple of days.” She put her hand on his thick forearm covered with curly back hair. “We’ve had some good times, Dale. I’m asking for a favor. When I leave, it’ll be for good. There won’t be any reason to return. The girls have until the end of the month. Most will find a new place. Watch them for me. Ezra Jensen makes me nervous.”

Sheriff Brady set his coffee aside wearing a thoughtful look on his face. “I wired Helena to see if I could find anything out about Preacher Jensen. There’s a reason you should worry. Seems he and Sandy used to own quite a few whorehouses in Helena. That is, until he turned to the Lord. He and Sandy split. She came here and opened the Dusty Rose. He converted one of the brothels into his church. He’s been behind the pulpit damning whores ever since.”

She nodded. “I’m not used to men looking at me with hatred in their eyes. Sandy’s brother is dangerous. Will you keep an eye on the Dusty Rose and the girls?”

His gaze dropped to the diamond ring. “I guess I owe you one.” He covered her hand with his own. “You wouldn’t want to go upstairs for old time’s sake?”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Sheriff, I’m a married woman now. I need only one man.” She gave him a wink.

“Must be some man.” The Sheriff chuckled.

“He is.”

* *
*
* *

Train watched the horses run along the flat open land of the Wyoming territory. He intended to purchase one stallion, two maybe three, high-quality mares, and be on his way back to Marion, but the stock was superior to reported understanding. Tipping his head back, he scratched the whiskers of his beard. “I’m impressed.”

Amusement flickered in the old ranchers eyes. “You came a long way for a couple of horses. I thought I’d bring down my best to show you. Maybe make the trip worth your while.”

“That you’ve done.” Muscular legs and a shiny coat became a blur across the landscape. “He’s amazing,” Train said of the stallion. “I want the Chestnut.” It was a good thing TJ didn’t care how much money he spent. He was about to make a huge investment.

Train spent the afternoon looking at horseflesh and deciding how many he could safely take back without any help. “Could I hire one of your hands to help me get the stock back to Montana?”

The rancher leaned against the fence rail. “Son, if you buy enough of my horses, I’ll pack your lunch, too.”

Train shook his hand. California might have the best reputation, but this old rancher had the goods he was looking for. The horses were top quality and the facility kept the horses in excellent care. The stallion would be a busy stud come winter.

* *
*
* *

Marion kept the gun from under Sandy’s bed close when she was in the house. She looked at the furniture and fixtures with a critical eye. Knowing Train wouldn’t want much from the brothel, she’d already visited the church and arranged for them to pick up her donations. Bedding, red heart pillows, and most of the items from the kitchen, including the stove would be picked up the last day of the month. Marion wanted the beautiful Japanese furniture from Sandy’s office. She could almost hear Train complain. Their home was small and Sandy’s furniture was large and awkward. She made a mental note to hire someone to move the furniture before Train returned.