Second Chance Brides (20 page)

Abilene, Texas

Annabelle Smith dodged the cowboy’s groping hand and balanced the tray of drinks she held level with her face. Her ribs ached from the “lesson” Everett had given her after closing hours. Wincing, she placed the drinks in front of the man at the all-night gambling table and hurried away.

A young cowpoke called her name and grabbed as she passed, pulling her onto his lap. His warm, wet lips roamed across her bare shoulder. Annabelle cringed and smacked him atop the head with her tray. Raucous laughter erupted, and the young man rubbed his head, grinning.

What was it with these men? They knew all she did was serve drinks. She’d never been an upstairs gal, in spite of Everett’s threats to toss her out on the street if she didn’t soon change her ways. He’d been making those same threats for years, and he still kept her on, but she was getting older now, and Everett preferred younger girls who didn’t yet reflect the hard lifestyle of working in a saloon and dodging men every night. What would she do if he kicked her out on the streets?

She sashayed in and out of trouble and back to the bar. The huge picture of the half-naked woman above the wall of bottles repulsed her. She still hated the odor of liquor and smelly cowboys, but most of the time she didn’t notice. Why couldn’t she have a decent job like being a seamstress or a cook? She snorted a laugh. What decent citizen would hire a saloon girl?

She might not be an upstairs gal, but to the good townsfolk of Abilene, she was one and the same. Her only chance for another life was to leave this town. But where could she go?

“Stop lollygagging, Annabelle, and get out there and sell drinks. You’re costing me money,” Everett snarled at her, then poured another round for the men at the bar.

She grabbed a fresh bottle and cups that Everett had wiped half-clean, then strolled around the saloon, stopping at a table with three businessmen. “Can I freshen your drinks, gentlemen?”

One man nodded, and another lifted his glass. The third man, a regular who always gave her trouble, eyed her as if he were a starving man and she a big, juicy steak. “I’m not thirsty, Annabelle. I’m hankering for some alone time with a purty gal.”

She cringed but kept a smile pasted on her face. “I’m sure Trudy or Lotus would be happy to oblige you.”

He stood, towering over her by a good six inches. “We’ve danced this dance for years now, and I’m tired of it. You’re the one I want.”

Annabelle backed up, as a scene from years ago rose in her memory. The same situation had occurred. A man thought he could have more than she was willing to give, but that man had ended up dead. This evening, however, no shining knight was around to rescue her from this vile man, only herself. She forced her voice to sound steady. “Sit down, Cal, and let me pour you a drink.”

His eyes ignited, and he shoved his chair back. “Everett says I can take you upstairs whether you wanna go or not. I paid him good, too.”

Annabelle’s gaze shot over to her boss. A sickening smirk twisted his thick lips, and he lifted a cup to her as if in toast. Why, after all these years, was he forcing this on her?

She had to get out of there. She tossed her tray, bottle and all, at Cal and spun around. Deftly weaving in and out of the tables as she did daily, she headed for the swinging doors that opened onto the street. A growl roared behind her, and the crowd broke out in laughter and cheers, some egging Cal on, and others rooting for her.

Her heart pounded so hard she felt sure it would burst from her chest. A cowboy grabbed her flared skirt, slowing her down. The doors were just two tables away. She didn’t dare look back. Plowing out the double doors, she breathed a fresh breath of air while her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

Hide. Fast
. Her brain repeated the mantra.
Hide
.

She rushed down the boardwalk steps and turned into the alley, just as she heard the doors fling open so hard they banged against the saloon’s facade. A little farther, and she’d be free. At the back of the alley, something huge stepped from the shadows, and Annabelle plowed into the big, fleshy body. Thick hands latched onto her arms, pinning her against him.

“Not so fast, little lady.”

Annabelle stiffened at Everett’s deep voice. Footsteps charged behind her, drawing closer.

“You knew your days were numbered, but I guess our little talk didn’t knock any sense into you. I’ve been losing money on you for some time now. But no more. Take her, Cal. She’s all yours.”

“No!” Annabelle kicked and jerked, trying to get free. “You can’t make me do this.”

Cal lifted her and slung her over one big shoulder and carried her through the saloon’s back door. Hoots rose up from the crowd. Upside down, she could see their leering faces and sickening grins. How many of them figured they’d be next?

She wanted to die. Maybe she could get to Cal’s gun, shoot him, and get away. Maybe she’d just shoot herself, too.

One of the upstairs doors opened. Lotus stepped into the hall. “Well, well, it’s about time someone brought Miss High and Mighty up here. Guess you won’t be so snooty to us after tonight.”

Bile burned Annabelle’s throat. How could this be happening? Why hadn’t she left her job sooner?

Cal kicked in a door, and Trudy squealed and grabbed for her cover-up. He cursed and opened another door. Annabelle was close to passing out from fear and being held upside down for so long, but she had to keep her wits about her.

Cal kicked the door shut with his boot and deposited her on the bed. She bounced twice, the old frame creaking and groaning.

“Just relax. You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.”

What an arrogant imbecile!

Her mind raced. There had to be some way out of this situation. Maybe if she played coy, he’d drop his guard. Her gaze roved the room. There wasn’t much to work with. Besides a bed, there was one ladder-back chair, and a small table holding a flowery ceramic pitcher and basin.

She crawled off the dirty bed, and stood in front of the table.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cal moved closer, unbuckling his holster.

She cast a coy glance over her shoulder. “A girl has to freshen up, doesn’t she?”

Cal’s gray eyes narrowed, gazing at her as if he didn’t quite trust her. And well he shouldn’t.

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this, sweetheart.” He stepped up behind her and ran his hands down her arms.

She turned, forcing a playful look. “Me, too. I was just playin’ hard to get earlier.”

His eyes sparked, and he pulled her into his arms. His lips roved her face, found her mouth, and she made herself play along. After a minute of impossible disgust, she pushed him back. “Don’t you want to take off your shirt?”

He grinned and walked back to the door, locking it. He unfastened his buttons and turned to hang his shirt on a hook on the wall, then removed his belt. Repulsed, Annabelle swiped her mouth. She reached behind herself slowly, grabbed the near-empty pitcher, and crept forward. Cal turned slowly, and Annabelle slammed the pitcher upside his head. It cracked and broke, raining water and shards at their feet.

Cal stared at her, dumbfounded. Annabelle’s heart raced. What would he do to her now?

He took a half-step forward; then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell toward her. She grabbed him, hoping no one would hear his fall, but his weight was too much, and he took her down with him. Stunned, she lay there a moment to catch her breath. But she couldn’t rest long. She had to get away.

With some effort, she managed to slide out from under him. Blood ran down the side of his face and onto the carpet. She stared down at Cal, hoping she hadn’t killed him, but she imagined that’s what he’d do to her if he woke up.

She snatched up the belt and wrapped it around him, locking his arms to his side. The belt barely fit, but it should hold him for a while, giving her precious time to get away. She grabbed his shirt next, and rolled it up, fashioning a gag, using the sleeves to tie it on.

What about his feet? If he could get up, he could make it to the hallway where someone would see him. Her gaze raced around the room. His holster!

She removed his revolver, pulled his feet together, and wrapped the holster around it, hooking it as tight as she could.

Again, her heart stampeded. How could she get out of the saloon without being seen? How could she leave town when she had almost no money? The pittance Everett paid her was barely enough to live on.

She unlocked the door, wincing at its loud click, and opened it a hair. The other doors upstairs were closed. To her left were the rooms Trudy and Lotus were using and the stairs back down to the saloon. To her right was another door. Everett’s room.

He’d sent her upstairs on occasion over the years when he’d collected a pile of money. She’d always put it in the bottom drawer of his desk and locked it, returning the key to him when she got back downstairs. He never wanted to leave when customers were there, fearing they’d steal bottles of liquor or start a fight and tear things up.

She slipped into his room and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark. The overpowering rank scent she recognized as Everett’s nearly made her retch. Feeling her way, she found the desk and hurried around behind it. Opening the curtains allowed the light of the three-quarter moon to illuminate the room so she could see well enough. She tugged on the bottom drawer, knowing it would be locked. But to her surprise, it slid free. Way in the back, underneath a stack of papers, she pulled out the money box. The lock on it had long since broken, and Everett was too cheap to buy another one. He’d be sorry.

Her heart thudded in her chest, as if it were a trapped bird frantically trying to get free. And wasn’t that what she was?

She reached in the box. Everett would notice if she took all the money, but he owed her. She’d slaved for him and suffered at his hand, especially tonight. He would pay for her to start a new life.

She grabbed a handful of bills and several double eagle coins, then shoved the drawer closed. Annabelle stuffed the money in her corset and hurried to the back door. Everett’s parents had died in a fire, and she’d be forever grateful that he’d had a rear stairway installed, leading from his bedroom.

She unlatched the door and hurried down the steps. Keeping to the shadows, she crept along. The only way to get away fast was to steal a horse, but that was a hanging offense—and she couldn’t ride off in her saloon dress.

Untying the closest horse, she led him down the alley and several streets over to the room she rented.

“Hurry, hurry.” She could feel Cal waking up and knew he’d make a ruckus until someone heard him.

In her room, she quickly changed into her one cotton calico, her decent dress. She removed the pillowcase and stuffed her hairbrush and undergarments in it. Taking a final look at the ratty place she’d called home for seven years, she knew she’d not mourn its loss.

Quickly, she mounted the horse and raced it out of town. She didn’t look back. Nothing good had happened to her in Abilene.

But her luck was changing.

Now she had to decide where to go.

Only one thought came to mind. Find the one man who’d ever shown her true kindness. She had to find Mark Corbett.

C
HAPTER
15

L
eah knocked on the door of the Howard house for the second time. She suspected Mrs. Howard was sleeping. Should she go ask Dan’s permission before going inside? He had told her it was all right to go in if his mother didn’t answer, but she still hated to do so.

She tested the handle and found the door opened easily. She peeked into the parlor and noted it could use a good straightening and dusting. “Mrs. Howard?”

She stepped into the entryway of the house. “It’s Leah Bennett, ma’am. Your son said I could come in and visit with you.”

Leah pursed her lips when no answer came. She set down her basket and looked around. On the right was an open door to a bedroom. From the manly clothing hanging on pegs on the wall, she knew that was Dan’s room. She tiptoed through the parlor and into a short hall that separated the bedrooms. Mrs. Howard lay on her side, facing the wall. A light quilt covered her body. How could she stand the heat with that cover on and the windows shut? Leah crept back to the parlor and looked around.

She should probably leave. But wouldn’t it surprise the older woman to awaken from her nap to a clean house with a meal already prepared? Looking around, she decided the kitchen would be her first chore. She opened the back and front doors, along with the kitchen and parlor windows, to let in some fresh air and cool things down.

The morning dishes had been washed, probably Dan’s efforts. She found where they belonged and put the plates and coffee cups on the shelf with the other dishes. The silverware rested in a tin can that had long ago lost its label. Taking the cleaning supplies she’d borrowed from Rachel, she washed every surface from the windowsill to the shelves to the top of the canned goods that resided in a tiny pantry. She wiped down the table and chairs and found a broom and mop and tended to the floors. Lastly, she washed several small glass decorations that she suspected were Mrs. Howard’s treasures. Standing back with her hands on her hips, she surveyed the spotless kitchen. Her heart warmed at having something to do and being able to help someone.