Way Out West

WAY OUT WEST

by

Blanche Marriott

Copyright © 2012 by Blanche Marriott

First Edition Published by

Avalon Books, 2003

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be
reproduced, transmitted, stored, or used in any form or by any means graphic,
electronic, or mechanical without the written consent of the author.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Please purchase an
additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book
and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you as part of an authorized
lending program, please delete it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the author’s work.

DEDICATION

To Laura Audette,

the next best thing to a critique partner: a
brainstorming buddy.

As co-worker, family and friend, your help was
invaluable in making this book possible.

Special thanks to Jess Andersen for her expert horse
tips,

 and to Sean Matthews and Brenda Person for the
beautiful cover design.

Reviews and Awards

"WAY OUT WEST is an easy reading, fast-paced
fantasy, highlighted by colorful characters and humorous situations." -
Betty
Cox
--
From Affaire de Coeur

WAY OUT WEST…winner of the prestigious New Jersey
Romance Writers' 2003 Golden Leaf Award for Short Contemporary…and a finalist
in the 2004 Virginia Romance Writers' HOLT Medallion Awards.

Table
of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

About the Author

Books by Blanche Marriott

Excerpt--Kaleidoscope

Chapter One

The Wild West. Of all
places for a city girl to escape to. Heck, even life on the back of Spider’s
Harley sounded better than some fantasy western town out in the middle of
nowhere.

But Callie Sumner had
few choices right now. With no money and a boyfriend who thought he owned her,
she needed a place to hide, a place to pull herself together and start anew.

And it was only for a
month. By then she’d have enough money to go back east, home where she
belonged.

Callie smoothed her
hands down the front of her long, tight calico dress, frowning at her strange
reflection in the mirror.

A stocky woman behind
her sighed. “I remember when my hips were slender like that.”

With a quick smile at
the woman, Callie tilted her head. “I feel silly dressed in costume like this.”

The woman tucked a stray
hair under her straw bonnet. “It’s the best way to get into true character and
get a real feel for the period. If you don’t like the dress, you can get
another one later in town.”

Callie dipped her head,
then flinched. “Never mind the dress, these boots have squeezed all feeling
from my feet. How did they do it back then?”

The woman laughed. “The
Old West was fun, but nobody said it was comfortable.”

Why anyone would eagerly
wear scratchy clothes and tight button-up boots was beyond her. Hopefully, once
she started her job as a saloon girl, her outfits would be a tad more—

“Callie Sumner,” the
loudspeaker above her head crackled. “If there is a Callie Sumner checking in,
would she please report to the way station office.”

An apprehensive chill
ran down her spine, which stiffened at the announcement like the reflex of a
cat’s back. She knew without knowing it had to be Spider looking for her. She’d
fled L.A. and his stifling possessiveness while he was away.

Her roommate must’ve
buckled under Spider’s pressure. Callie shouldn’t have shown her the magazine
ad for Way Out West. Not that a Wild West town was her ideal choice, but the
saloon girl gig paid better than any waitressing job and it provided a place
safe from Spider and a chance to start over.

She’d left a simple
note: Don’t come looking for me.

But if he did, she
wasn’t going back. From now on, she only looked forward. She’d make enough
money to get back to Massachusetts, focus on the education she’d given up, and
rebuild her parents’ trust. No way was some bearded, leather-clad, possessive
egomaniac going to mess it up.

Grabbing her brown paper
parcel containing two outfits from the wardrobe room and her unread visitor’s
manual, Callie eased out the door of the dressing room and moved to the far
wall of the crowded waiting area. Trying to look inconspicuous beside a glass
display, she peered across the rustic barnlike building through the sea of
cowboy hats and bonnets, searching for any sign of the barrel-chested biker she’d
fled.

Startled by the overwhelming
smell of leather, she wrinkled her nose, until she realized it was everywhere. Gun
belts, chaps, vests, boots. Everyone had on something made of leather. Everyone
was dressed for their role at Way Out West and the air sizzled with excitement
as guests practiced their “howdy partner” accents on one another.

Skirting around the
display, Callie made her way to a corner, cautiously keeping her eye on the
office door. If she saw that burly monster, Spider, come through it, she’d be
out the back door in a flash. If there was a back door.

Turning to look, she
came nose to chest with a vested black suit. She slid her gaze upward to a
tanned face, smiling brown eyes and a black-as-night mustache contrasted by a
row of straight white teeth.

With a slight nod the
handsome man lifted his black, wide-brim hat and drawled, “Pardon my intrusion,
ma’am, but you seem a bit...distracted. Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, I was just
watching out—uh, looking for someone.”

“Well, if you’ve lost
your partner, you can go into the office over there—”

“No!” Callie smoothed
back her long hair, trying to appear calm despite her trembling fingers. “No, I’m
here alone. I just thought I might recognize someone.”

She could’ve sworn his
smile gleamed brighter as he placed his hat back on his head, but she had no
time for flirtations. Spider could be anywhere and she had to stay alert.

Averting her eyes to the
pictures lining the walls, she noticed they were all old photographs,
memorabilia and artifacts depicting life in the old West. Callie strolled
forward, studying the bland faces, colorless clothes and simple way of life. She
shivered at what lay ahead in the fantasy western town. People really came here
just for fun?

The tall man shadowed
along. “The nice thing about Way Out West is even if you come alone, you won’t
be for long with all the friendly people. That is, unless you want to be alone.”
A suspicious flicker lit his dark eyes.

“That’ll be difficult
since I’ll be working in the saloon.”

His face brightened. “Ah!
One of Miss Becky’s girls.”

“Miss Becky?”

“She runs the saloon.” He
cocked his head. “Is this your first time at Way Out West?”

Callie shuddered. The
thought of subjecting herself to this punishment more than once was
unthinkable. No running water, no electricity, and—tugging at her stiff lace
collar—uncomfortable clothes. What was the fascination?

“Yeah, my first time. I
take it you’re a repeat offender?”

He chuckled. “Many
times. I reckon it’s sort of a home away from home for me.”

How awful. The poor guy
must lead a pretty dull life. “And where is home?” she asked as her eyes darted
from the office door to a display of silver spurs in a glass case.

When he didn’t answer,
she looked askance to see if he’d heard and noticed him inspecting the top of
her head. His eyes ran down the length of her hair to the middle of her back. A
tingling sensation spread over her when, a moment later, he realized he’d been
caught, smiled and lifted his hat again.

“The name’s Rand.”

Okay, so he didn’t want
to say where he was from. The brochure clearly stated guests could leave their
identities behind, even assume new ones. Fine with her. She needed a fresh
start. No more lousy jobs, no more thoughtless men. From here on out, the plan
was for stability and respect. Callie Sumner would be somebody.

“I’m Callie.”

Rand
placed his hat at a slight angle on his head,
just enough to afford a rakish, dangerous look that brought a blush to her
cheeks. Her stomach fluttered when he quirked an eyebrow knowing the effect he’d
had on her.

“Callie,” he repeated,
letting the vowels rumble in the richness of his deep tone. “You are every bit
as pretty as the calico of your dress.”

She blinked back at him,
confused by his remark. “There wasn’t much else to choose, yellow is not my
best color.”

“I beg to differ. The
yellow brings out the golden highlights in your hair and the blue flowers match
your lovely blue eyes. I’d say it’s a right fine picture.”

Callie stared in wonder
at the perfectly trimmed mustache topping Rand’s steady smile. He meant it, for
heaven’s sake. She wasn’t used to sincere compliments, certainly not from
macho-man Spider.

Avoiding his stare,
Callie eyed his expertly tailored black suit and vest complete with a gold
pocket watch and leather holster strapped to a muscular thigh. She cast a wary
glance at the gun weighing down the side of one slim hip.

“I hope that’s not real,”
she murmured, squeezing by him in the crowded aisle.

He turned his body just
enough to let her pass but not enough for her to avoid brushing up against his
chest. “As real as they allow, but not loaded.” He followed closely behind.

She shifted her parcel
to her other hand, then changed the subject. “When do we leave for the town?” She
shuffled her feet to ease the pain from those tight, narrow boots. And she’d
thought the long bus ride from Barstow had been uncomfortable!

“Soon as everyone’s
dressed. They allow this extra time for stragglers,” lowering his voice, “and
those who need to study the manual a bit more.”

His insinuation wasn’t
lost on her. She obviously hadn’t read up on what to expect. “Yeah, well, I
figured I’ll just kind of follow along and learn as I go.”

“The purpose of the
manual is so everyone takes the town seriously. Otherwise it just becomes
another tourist attraction. We’re paying good money for authenticity.”

“Not me. I’m just here
for the job. Decent wage, free room and board, no questions asked—couldn’t ask
for more.”

Rand
’s smile slipped. A frown creased his brow and he
adjusted his hat again. He pulled out his watch, glancing absently at the face.
Had she insulted him?

“A word of advice, Miss
Becky runs a tight ship. You might want to brush up on that manual while you
still have free time.” He tucked the watch back into his pocket.

Callie raised an
eyebrow. “Sounds like you know her well.”

“Well enough. She’s a
mighty fine woman, but don’t get her riled, especially about rules,” he warned.
Rand rested his hand on his gun. “By the way, are you going by horse or
stagecoach?”

Shocked at the mere
thought of riding a smelly horse into town, she answered, “Stagecoach, of
course.”

“Of course.” He cleared
his throat, his face etched with disappointment. “You don’t ride?”

“Heck, no. I wouldn’t
know which end to get on.”

Rand
chuckled, his head cocked. “Oh, you seem pretty
smart to me. I’m sure you’d catch on quick. I’d be glad to assist—”

“Ain’t gonna happen,
partner.”

His eyes shone. “Now
that’s the spirit.”

“That’s about as much
spirit as I can muster right now.” She shuffled her feet again. “These boots
are the pits.”

He looked down. “Why don’t
you go back to wardrobe and get some moccasins to wear until you get used to
the boots?”

“Nah.” She held up her
parcel. “I already picked out my outfits. No sense in going back.” Just then,
speakers in the overhead rough-hewn beams announced all those leaving by
stagecoach should line up. “On the other hand...” An idea clicked in Callie’s
head and she glanced at the door leading to the wardrobe room where she’d
stored her belongings in a locker. “Maybe another pair would be better.” She
started for the door.

Rand
called out, “Better hurry. The coaches are
leaving.”

“Save me a seat,” she
replied over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m going by
horseback. A gambler likes to ease into town, sneak up on the competition.”

She stood with her hand
on the doorknob. “Well, see you around town, Maverick. Thanks for the inside
advice.”

* * *

Outside, Rand inspected
his favorite horse, a sleek black stallion whose head bobbed as Rand pulled on the cinch strap and flipped the reins over the long silky mane. Beautiful
and feisty, like the woman he’d just met.

He’d noticed Callie as
soon as she’d come out of the wardrobe room looking all flustered and
out-of-place, eyes darting around the room. But intrigue soon turned to
interest as he watched her, with her long blond hair smooth and shining like
the sun.

Rand
grumbled to himself. Maybe he’d chosen the wrong
role for this visit. Gambling took a heap of concentration, and after meeting
Callie, his thoughts were far from a deck of cards.

No matter. He was only
there for a week. A week to relax, unwind, forget. That’s what he liked best
about Way Out West. He could forget. The outside world couldn’t touch him and
nobody fought for pieces of him. Here, he was just Rand. Nobody special. And
that’s how he liked it.

Patting the horse’s
neck, he put one foot in the stirrup, hoisted himself up, then let out a
chuckle. Wouldn’t know which end to get on. The gal was spunky—good Way Out
West material, even if she didn’t think so. With a little tutoring, she’d come
around and see why this place was so special.

He pulled the reins and turned
to watch as the newest visitors boarded the stagecoaches. He’d follow after
they departed. Rand preferred to slowly amble into town, taking in the quiet
scenery, letting his mind downshift from rat race to serenity. Even the smell
of horse manure invigorated him. It was a real smell, not the phony cover-up
fragrance filtered through a sophisticated ventilation system in his corporate
headquarters.

To Rand, Way Out West
was real. It was where he felt most like himself. It was his town. His dream
come true.

A flash of yellow caught
his eye. He watched the streak of calico and flying blond hair as Callie,
hugging her parcel, ran out of the way station, headed for the coaches with the
other guests.

Suddenly, the
reverberating rumble of a Harley drew not only his attention, but Callie’s too.
She stopped, turned with a panicked look and darted into the open stable.