Way Out West

by Blanche Marriott

  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.

  So, she must be the Callie the office had paged and this motorcyclist was someone she was avoiding. Rand watched as the bearded rider raced along outside the fence, searching among the groups waiting to board the coaches, barking out Callie’s name.

  Unable to find her, he rolled back toward the way station, but stopped when he saw Rand near the stable. “Hey, dude, is anyone left in there?”

  Rand steadied his nervous horse then glanced back, detecting a hint of yellow tucked behind the gray weathered door. “Nope, just a couple of old mares and one filly.”

  The biker impatiently jerked his head toward the way station. “Is everyone out of there?”

  The stallion sidestepped, anxious to get away from the noisy machine. Rand patted the sleek black neck for assurance. “Yep, I was the last one out. I like to
ride into town. You looking for someone in particular?”

  “Yeah, my woman,” he answered gruffly. “Skinny thing, long blond hair. Name’s Callie. You seen her?”

  Rand lifted his hat. “Can’t say that I have.”

  A sound like that of a disturbed bear escaped the bushy mouth. “I checked at the office but they say all guests’ names are confidential and she didn’t answer her page.”

  “Looks like you came all the way out here for nothing, then. Unless you want to sign up for a weekend stay, check out the town for yourself. It’s a great escape vacation.”

  Another animal sound preceded his response. “Bah. Her dimwitted roommate probably got it all wrong.”

  “Well, if I run into her I’ll tell her you were here.”

  With a grunt, the biker revved up the engine and sped off. As the dust of his trail disappeared on the horizon, Rand tapped a heel into his horse’s side, and trotted to the stable door.

  “You can come out now.”

  Callie took a few uncertain steps out, then quickly ran to peer over the fence. Rand’s gaze easily followed her movements.

  “He’s gone.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “I beg your pardon. I told him you weren’t here.”

  “And you also invited him to stay for the weekend.”

  Urging his horse close to the fence, Rand chuckled lightly and crossed his hands atop the saddle horn. “Just a little reverse psychology. Clearly he had no intention of staying.”

  Her attention turned to the departing coaches way off in the distance. With clenched fists on her shapely hips, she grumbled, “Great. Now how do I get into town?”

  He shifted in the creaky saddle. “Ride in like me.”

  She stamped her foot and scowled. “I can’t ride!”

  Rand pushed his hat back above his forehead. “It doesn’t look like you have much choice.”

  “I’ll just stay here and wait for another coach.”