Joker's Wild

by Ginny Sterling

  Oh, dear heavens…

  It took a few moments before Rosemary realized that people were yelling outside – and one of them was a woman’s voice. Meghan? Was she alive? Rosemary couldn’t stand by anymore, she had to help! Racing out of the building, she saw the handsome man kick one of Martin’s men right in the backside only a moment before he ran to where Meghan was being held precariously by her husband, the noose still around her throat.

  “Jack! Oh my gosh… Jack! Don’t let go. Please!” Meghan was hollering wildly, her voice garbled with sheer panic and fear.

  “I’m not letting go. I’ve got you, sugar. Hang on.”

  “Can we not use that word?”

  “Can we not make me laugh right now?”

  “Jack… I don’t want an annulment,” Meghan muttered and Rosemary barely caught the softly spoken words. The woman’s warm eyes were full of love and watching her husband, as tears streamed down her face.

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “That’s fine. It won’t change my mind.”

  “I don’t think anything could… uh, Joker? JOKER!” the man suddenly yelled, seeing the handsome man whooping and hollering around in the dirt like a banshee, kicking another man right in the tail-end and laughing wildly.

  “See this? This is me whoopin’ your tail,” he cried, mockingly, and glanced up at his friend where he was struggling to keep Meghan still, before coolly pulling the trigger at the man on the ground.

  “I’m done playing, buddy. Duty calls!”

  Rosemary winced at the sound of the gun, gaping in stunned shock. What was wrong with him? He was laughing one moment and then wounding a man carelessly the next?

  She stood there, the knife falling from her hand limply, in shock. She watched the two men free Meghan. Her husband scooped Meghan up, carrying her away to make sure she was okay. He carried her over to the grass, away from the tree where she’d had her near-death experience, and set her down as if she was infinitely precious.

  Rosemary felt a pang of jealously and envy. The handsome man she’d seen dancing around in the yard, kicking the men in the seat of their pants, and walloping them in the kneecaps with his rifle, suddenly looked at her. His eyes widened in surprise, drawing him to a halt as he cocked his head to the side curiously.

  “Who the heck are you, lady?”

  Joker was floored at the woman that stood there staring at him like he’d sprouted another arm before her very eyes. Frankly, it was a little insulting. He’d just participated in one of the finest and most satisfying rescues lately. He and his friend Jack just saved the woman he was married to - and to think that Joker was being snubbed by the beautiful creature before him, well, it just pissed him off to no end.

  “Who the heck are you, lady?”

  He hated judgmental people and had dealt with it his entire life. Just because you did something different, it wasn’t necessarily wrong. He enjoyed that life had its twists and turns. Up could be down, left could be right, all depending on how you looked at it.

  He enjoyed tracking down the bad guys.

  He preferred black licorice.

  The bigger the gun, the better.

  There was an entire list of taboo things that Joker preferred. Steaks should be blackened, dried jerky was a sin, and homemade pemmican from animal fat was manna from heaven. Water tasted awful. Whisky was divine… and warm milk with the heavy cream floating on top was like heavenly clouds of goodness.

  He slapped his hat that had fallen in the dirt back onto his head, pushing the leather brim upwards with his revolver. Glaring at her, he winced. If the petite little blond started up with the silly, insipid, crocodile tears—he was out. Women using their wiles made his skin crawl—part of the reason he’d never adopted the idea of taking on a bride.

  Done.

  Kaput.

  Instead, he watched as she practically snapped her spine upwards, ramrod straight, and glared at him. Good, he thought, a little spunk kept you alive and somewhat sane. She had the audacity to step towards him and shake her finger at him. It was taking everything he had not to burst out laughing… and he failed with her words.

  “You! Sir, and I use the term loosely, will take me and these poor, pathetic women that are trapped inside to Abilene for medical assistance. Do you hear me? I will brook no arguments from you either—got it?”

  “HA! Hahahaha!”

  She actually stomped her foot at him, before angrily bending down to knock him with something hard directly on his kneecap. Shocked, he looked down and saw she held a butter knife in her hands. She’d swung it hard, making contact, causing a jolt of pain. He fell back on his butt, laughing hysterically and wiping his eyes as tears of mirth sprang forward.

  Good gravy, this was comical!

  Her face was beet red in the cheeks. He could practically see flames in her eyes, she was so very indignant. The show of temper was downright… cute?

  “What’s your name, miss,” he choked out, still snickering with delight.

  “Damsel-in-distress,” she bit out angrily. “You don’t need my name to do your job as an upright, God-fearing citizen.”

  “Actually,” Joker drawled as he grinned, looking up at her where she stood before him, with her fists balled up at each side. She was still glaring daggers at him. From this angle, it silhouetted the sun behind her head making her look positively angelic, but she had a streak of meanness in her that was surprising and a little intriguing.

  “I kinda think I do. You’ve got sass, and I’d be happy to help you into town.”

  She drew herself up regally, crossing her arms over her chest, the butter knife still clenched in her hand like a scepter. One perfect eyebrow arched as she glared at him with barely contained disdain.

  “And the women inside?”

  “Whatever you want,” he shrugged. It was a long walk into town and there were only a few horses. He’d let her take control for a bit and enjoy the chaos that came with taking charge of the situation. He hated being in charge and preferred to be the chaos in the background. He was good at what he did, thriving on being flexible and fluid when the situation called for it.

  “This is your show,” he shrugged. “Go get your friends.”

  Joker looked over his shoulder to see Jack was still talking with his wife, Meghan. The little empress had turned, running off into the house to fetch her friends. She was bossy, and he kinda admired that, dubbing her mentally with the nickname Empress.

  Jack had asked him to go after Espinoza before tending to his wife—and Joker certainly would—just as soon as he…

  The thought stopped immediately in his head as he saw the beautiful, bossy, unnamed woman was ushering a ragtag group of women out of the house. His heart clenched painfully as he thought of his sister, Molly.

  He and his sister were alone in this world, abandoned, and trying to get by. She’d taken over the small inn their parents had left them with on some foolhardy trip out west for riches unknown. Adventure was what you made of it, he’d always thought, and never really cared to leave the world he knew behind. He could have fun here, on his own, and find delight in the little things.

  As the women walked out, Joker noticed several were in chemises or barefoot. Their various states of dishabille were appalling. He glanced over his shoulder to get help from Jack only to see he was gone, riding off in the distance with Meghan cradled in his arms. His friend did not understand what was erupting out of the house and his focus was on his wife—he could certainly understand why too.

  Getting to his feet, he saw several women back away, terrified. Joker offered his outstretched hands in a show of trust and submission—he didn’t want them to perceive him as threatening in any way, shape, or form after the ordeal they’d been through. It was obvious that any spark or backbone they’d had was tortured out of them long ago, and he was glad that his little empress still had her sass to her.

  “Empress, I will get a few supplies from my saddle,” Joker said candidly, backing
away to where he’d stashed his horse in the distance. He had gauze, a few clean shirts, some poorly mended socks that would at least cover one or two of their feet for the trip, and some rations. Some women looked nearly starved and he could use a little of the whiskey he had in a flask, truthfully.

  “What did you call me?” she asked, with that same arched eyebrow. He saw she had her arm wrapped around a woman that was muttering unintelligibly and crying.

  “You never told me your name,” he hollered into the air, picking up the pace as he realized the woman she was helping had stained blood on her gown, not dirt. The flock might be in worse condition than he ever realized!

  Joker grabbed the lead on his horse and quickly headed back, only to see a few of the women were huddled away from the bodies on the ground in disbelief. Joker walked up and kicked one of them.

  “You don’t have to worry about them anymore,” he promised, before opening his saddlebags. He turned away to reach inside, only to hear a few thumps behind him. Alarmed, he glanced over and fought back a smile. A few of the women were taking out their anger, frustration, and hostility on the bodies-kicking them angrily.

  Those men couldn’t feel it and deserved what happened to them, Joker thought morosely, crossing his chest in a prayer that it was out of his hands and they got what they deserved, wherever their souls ended up. This was wrong—and those poor women needed an outlet for them to handle what had happened to them.

  One of the women, her hair cut off in choppy tufts, ran up to him—hitting him weakly on the chest. Her mouth opened, and the sounds were unintelligible.

  “Mhuuf en! Eeuu ate fu!”

  “Mabel, he’s here to help us out,” the little empress breathed, pulling her away from Joker and hugging her. “It will be all right, I promise.” Her eyes met his, rage and disgust in her gaze.

  “What happened?”

  “Martin had her tongue cut out when she talked back to him,” she seethed, looking over Mabel’s shoulder at Joker. “This is why you will help us whether or not you want to.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t help,” Joker corrected firmly. “I said I was getting my gear so we could make the trip back into town. They need supplies and truthfully, I think we could all use a good stiff drink before we get moving—and that should probably happen sooner rather than later. If they come back here with reinforcements, I’m one guy and the lot of you are no match for any of them. Got it, empress?”

  “Rosemary,” she corrected glibly.

  “I prefer to call you empress.”

  “I prefer you be silent,” she said flatly. “Hand me your canteen.”

  “Please?” he prompted with a wink.

  “Gimme,” Rosemary bit out, extending her hand.

  Joker grinned impishly at the demanding tone in her voice. Oh yes, he liked this woman’s grit. He handed it to her, smiling.

  “It’s whiskey.”

  “That’s even better,” Rosemary said to him, pulling the cap off and taking a swig before wincing painfully. She held it out to Mabel, instructing her to take a sip before handing it to the other women. He almost protested that whiskey wasn’t cheap, and they would empty his canteen, but those seventeen women standing around him needed the alcohol more than he did.

  Joker dug around in his saddlebag, fishing out other goods, food, and supplies—handing it out quickly without question. He gave them a few moments to draw themselves together, watching the group before him sadly. This was a cryin’ shame, and he really felt for them. Perhaps he would take them directly to his sister Molly, so they could bathe and get some rest before searching for some place to go.

  “Let’s head out,” Joker and Rosemary said in unison unexpectedly.

  They glanced at each other in mirrored surprise. He smiled, growing to like the woman more and more—only to see that she frowned bitterly and turned away.

  Gosh, he adored a puzzle, and his little empress bossing him around was going to be a fun one to unravel. There had to be more to her story, and he found himself completely fascinated at how she came to be here of all places. Instead of pushing, he would be patient and tackle it like he did everything else—by doing the unexpected.

  Chapter 3

  Rosemary turned and pointed at the weakest women, instructing Joker to help them onto the horses that were present. There were only four of them still there and two had saddles. The rest of them would walk. They could put two women on two of the horses, maximizing the animals as they could. She removed the riders’ shoes without question, instructing them that the women walking would need the protection for their feet.

  “I promise we will return your shoes to you once we get to town,” she vowed, clasping their hands in promise. They had nothing—and the idea of giving up anything that could provide protection was hard enough without being asked politely for it. There was a time and place for everything—and Rosemary wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer in this situation.

  It was part of the reason she was bossing the wild man around.

  She was afraid they would be abandoned out here, helpless, and she knew she couldn’t guide these seventeen women into town on her own. She needed help and was terrified that the stranger would just leave them there.

  “Which direction?” Rosemary asked.

  “Someday you are going to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to me,” Joker teased softly with a smile. Rosemary rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Just point in a general direction then…?”

  “That way.”

  “Ladies, you heard the man,” Rosemary called out. “We are headed this way. Let’s move out.”

  “Walk with me,” Joker said immediately, looking at her.

  “We’ll all be walking together towards town,” she countered, looking at him quizzically. He was watching her and looked almost… curious?

  They started moving forward slowly, keeping pace with the horses that walked steadily through the tall grassy fields that sprawled before them for miles and miles. It would be a long walk and there was nowhere to hide if Martin Espinoza came back as Joker said.

  He fell into line beside her, where she walked alone in the back of the throng of women. She had taken a position at the back in order to better watch this group of ladies she felt a little responsible for.

  She could have been Mabel; she almost was in their very position. How many of them had been thrust into a room and instructed to bathe? A sweet-talking man who knew just what to say had fooled how many women already? How many of the atrocities had been committed in that ranch house before they arrived—and how many more would still occur?

  “Wait,” Rosemary said, pulling to a stop.

  She immediately grabbed Joker’s arm, gripping it tightly, looking him square in the eyes. His brown eyes met hers, holding them silently as he scanned her face.

  “What do you need?” he asked quietly.

  “Burn it,” she breathed between clenched teeth, unable to explain any further and feeling overwhelmed by the hate flowing through her chest at this very moment. “Burn it down; just burn it for me.”

  “You got it,” Joker said simply, without question. “Keep going and I’ll catch up with you. Take this,” he said, handing her a pistol and pressing it in her hand. “Don’t shoot me when I come back.”

  “I won’t.”

  “One raging fire, as you command, empress.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I’m kinda partial to it,” he countered with a wink, jogging off towards the building they were leaving behind them in the distance.

  Rosemary stared at his back as he bounded off casually like it was an everyday occurrence. She saw his empty holster bouncing on his hip, realizing he’d left his gun with her. Why would he race back unarmed, heedlessly, without a care in the world?

  The man was skipping for Pete’s sakes!

  Rosemary felt a smile touch her lips as she shook her head ruefully. Whoever this Joker fellow was, he was one strange and intriguing man.
So far, men had only wanted one thing from a woman – or had proven themselves to be utterly despicable like Martin. She wondered what category Joker would fall into eventually, because it wasn’t normal to have a man easily tend and guide a flock of rag-tag women to safety.

  Martin would never let this slap to his pride go unchecked either… she thought suddenly, feeling ill and looking over her shoulder. She’d made a very dangerous enemy.

  Plumes of smoke wafted upwards in the distance as a visual confirmation that she was putting this nightmare to rest in her life and stepping forward with another one. He would never forgive her if his treatment of Mabel and Meghan were any sign.

  Her hand fluttered upwards, touching her throat nervously.

  She might not have known him for very long, but Martin was extremely proud and arrogant. Losing control, relinquishing whatever was going on here, and finding his ranch burnt to the ground would cause him to become irate. If he’d cut out Mabel’s tongue for talking back… what would he do to her?

  “We need to move faster, ladies.”

  Rosemary was breaking a sweat in the midday sun and could feel her nose reddening from the sun beating down on them. She trudged on regardless and kept looking over her shoulder. She hadn’t seen Joker in a while, and assumed that he’d taken advantage of ditching the seventeen problems he now had, the moment the opportunity had arisen to leave.

  How disappointing, she thought to herself.

  They were exhausted, hot, and incredibly out of shape. Several of the women were complaining about being thirsty and the canteen of whisky was long since empty.

  “Keep going,” Rosemary said firmly, looking over her shoulder one more time for any sign of the blond-haired man who’d initially helped them. Instead, a grey thread of smoke darkened the sky and looked to be miles off. She wasn’t sure how far, only that it would never be far enough to suit her.

  “Oh! A creek! Can we stop, please?”

  “Please Rosemary?”