To Wed a Wanton Woman (17 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.