by Tamara Gill
“You were a young man. A teenager.”
Those strange words again. “Still, I didn’t report him. Who knows how many other girls he might have done that to?”
She pulled his head down, meeting his eyes. “Hopefully, none. But even if he did, it was his sin, his crime. You were a young soldier, fighting in a horrendous war, told by your commanding officer to keep your mouth shut.”
Wes took her hands from his face and held them. The condemnation he’d expected to see wasn’t there. Relief flooded him, but only for a minute. Maybe she didn’t hate him, but that didn’t change what he’d not done. “I was a coward.”
“No.” She sighed. “If you did report him, your commanding officer was right. Who do you think they would have believed? You or him?”
The same question he’d asked himself a hundred or more times. “Him.” He licked his dry lips.
“So you would have probably hung for a crime you not only didn’t commit, but was forced to witness. You relied on his word that once he was through with the girl, he’d let her go.” She paused. “Where I come from—”
“Yes. I know. Right now I’d be sitting around with a bunch of men, weeping like a woman. No thanks.” He attempted to turn.
Anna’s mouth quirked with humor as she stopped him. “Well, there are such groups, actually, but—”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me any more about this upside down world of yours.”
“All right, I won’t.” She tapped his chest with her finger. “But you need to convince yourself that entire episode was not your fault, you had nothing to do with it, and aside from burying the girl and praying for her, there wasn’t anything else you could have done.”
How he wanted to pull her to him, to cover her mouth with his, forget all the ugliness of that day, and lose himself in Anna. She heated his blood like no other woman he’d ever met. Her touch set his skin on fire, and when her soft body was pressed up against his, all common sense fled. The mystery surrounded her no longer seemed important, and all he wanted was to plunge into her body and hear her cry out with pleasure.
Instead, Wes tightened his jaw and bent to gather up the bedrolls. “It’s time we were on the road.”
***
Anna rode alongside Wes, enjoying the cadence of the horse’s hooves pounding the dry ground as they left the wooded area. The sun warmed their backs when they turned from the stagecoach path onto the main road back to town. Wes had been silent the entire time, his face void of all expression.
She considered again the horrific story he’d told her. A slight smile curved her lips when she remembered his comments about the men in her time. Perhaps the modern era had softened its males. Boys were punished for fighting, for playing cowboys and Indians, and God forbid one of them should point a finger at his playmate and shout, “Bang, you’re dead.”
Men now visited tanning salons, got manicures and pedicures, and smelled better than a lot of women. Where once a man plowed the fields, built his own home, and protected his family with his strength, a good many of them now dressed in suits and ties and sat in front of a computer all day. No wonder Viagra was such a big seller.
Although she would never excuse his behavior, perhaps a lack of maleness had something to do with Robbie screwing her roommate. Did he feel the need to assert his masculinity by proving himself in bed with more than one woman? Bullshit. There were just too many men who were faithful to their wives for her to believe that nonsense. But she had to admit, as much as she liked having her independence as a modern woman, she was not alone in her love of romance novels, the pages dripping with alpha males.
Despite Wes’s confession and his feelings of cowardice, there was absolutely nothing lacking in his masculinity. Tall, broad shouldered, and muscular, he could easily grace one of her novel covers. And when he shot her that lazy, sexy grin, everything female in her answered his call. She drew herself up. It would be wise to stop her thoughts from going in that direction. Her life existed over a hundred years from now. And that was what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
“You best drop behind me, so we don’t call attention to ourselves. It wouldn’t do for the town folks to see us coming back together.”
As much as she wanted to blow off his concerns, it would be better to not flaunt their time together. Until she could figure a way to get back home, she had to live in this town, in this time period, so it would be best to stick to the standards of the day.
“What will you do now?”
Wes shrugged. “Wells Fargo will put a shotgun rider on each stagecoach for a while. Hopefully that will prevent any more hold-ups, but it hasn’t in the past.”
“How do you go about catching a gang, anyway?”
He raised his eyebrows, and that sexy grin slowly appeared. “Aren’t you the bounty hunter? What would you do?”
“Nothing that you would understand,” she mumbled.
Wes snorted his response. “I’m headed to the jailhouse to relieve Arnold. See that you stay out of trouble.” He tugged on the brim of his hat, and kicked his horse into a gallop.
She studied his broad back and muscular legs as he rode away. Yes, definitely an alpha male.
***
Anna shifted the bundle of sheets over her arm and knocked on the door of room twelve in the Mason Hotel. When no one answered, she withdrew her skeleton key and let herself in. Three days had passed since her trip with Wes to find the outlaws. So far, no other stagecoaches had been held up, and the few times she’d seen Wes, he merely tipped his hat in her direction and went on his way.
As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the man. Hopefully, his nightmare and subsequent confession hadn’t made him so uncomfortable that he was avoiding her. Since she started this new job as a hotel maid, her thoughts had been occupied by two things: Wes, and a way to get back home. Sort of a contradiction in terms. Had this been another place, and definitely another time, she would have loved to explore her attraction and growing feelings for the marshal. But with her hearing looming, with no idea as of yet how to get back, it was probably best if Wes was indeed avoiding her.
She pulled the dirty sheets from the bed, rolled them into a ball and tossed the bundle into the corner. Not only was she expected to clean the rooms, empty the chamber pots−gross−and change the sheets, in this time period the maid was required to wash the sheets and towels. In the twenty-first century, she thought herself to be in good physical shape. But no amount of gym workouts could compare to day-by-day physical labor.
Anna swung around as the door to the small room opened. Harold Mason, the hotel owner, stuck his head in. “Two more rooms to clean when you’re done with this one, Miss Devlin.”
She nodded and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Which ones?”
“Nine and fourteen.” He moved further into the room. “Ya know, you could make more money over at Miss Edith’s place. Can’t figure out why you would rather clean rooms.”
Anna stiffened. The man must own an interest in the bordello because he’d mentioned it to her every day since she took this job. “No, thanks. I don’t intend to earn my living on my back.”
He, showed off yellowed teeth in what passed for a smile. “Just thinkin’ a gal like you could do pretty good over there.” Harold gestured toward the window, where Miss Edith’s often-visited bordello sat.
“While I appreciate your concern for my finances, Mr. Mason, if it’s all the same to you, I prefer to do this job.” Well, not really, but it was certainly preferable to prostituting herself.
“Up to you.” He shifted a wad of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “Don’t make me no never mind.”
Anna turned from him and resumed making the bed. Two more rooms. After which she had to wash all the linens, then hang them out to dry. The door clicked closed, and she eased her sore muscles as she sat on the bed. She really needed to borrow a horse and ride out to where Slug had first picked her up. Walking around the area had
n’t worked. If the ‘peace chair’ was out there, she could have missed it.
If you go back, you won’t see Wes ever again. Her stomach clenched.
The pull to return had diminished somewhat, but as things stood, she had no life here. What was she supposed to do? Join a sewing circle, and catch herself a husband? Those were about the only options for women in this time period. Or−as that sleazeball had pointed out−she could take job at Miss Edith’s. She shuddered, and ran her palms up and down her arms. Now if Wes Shannon was a regular customer . . .
Best to put those thoughts far behind her. Anna finished the room, locked the door and headed to room nine. After knocking again, she entered and once again pulled off dirty sheets.
Her thoughts kept her occupied as she cleaned the space. What if she never did find the ‘peace chair?’ She’d be stuck here in the 1870s for the rest of her life. Anna walked over to the window and gazed out. Life here was better in some ways and worse in others, than her ‘real’ life.
But if she were forced to stay, what would she do with herself? She snorted. Dumping chamber pots into privies would lose its glamour real fast. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to finish making the bed.
She swung around as the door opened and a man entered, a key in his hand. He was tall and lanky, with the brim of a black hat pulled low over one eye. A scruffy beard and handlebar mustache covered his face. When he smiled, he flashed long-neglected teeth. His clothes and boots were dusty. He must’ve just come in from the trail.
“I’m sorry, is this your room?” She smiled in his direction, and bent to pick up the pile of dirty sheets. “I’m finished.”
He closed the door and leaned against it, raking her up and down with his gaze. “Well, now, there’s no need to hurry off, little lady.”
Anna stiffened. “Excuse me?”
He moved toward her, twirling the key’s leather strap around his finger. “Why don’t you stay for a while?” He pulled a bottle from his back pocket and waved it at her. “I have a little something here that we can drink while we get acquainted.”
“Sorry, but I have work to do.” She stepped around him, but the man captured her arm.
“Don’t rush off, girl. I have plenty of money to pay. Just tell me how much you want, and we can get down to business.”
“How dare you!” She shifted the bundle under her arm, and with her other hand poked him in the chest. “What I want is for you to let me out that door. I’m not about to stay here to ‘get acquainted.’ Now move out of my way.”
He gripped her arm and pulled her to him. “This will change your mind.” He brought his head down just as Anna raised her knee. He moved his lower body back, and held her at arm’s length. “No, ya don’t. I heard all about you. You’re that little wildcat. Well, I’m about to tame ya.”
Once more he yanked her forward. Anna reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out her pistol. “Back off.” She pressed it against his chest.
The man chuckled. “You think I believe you’d shoot me?”
Anna moved backward, both hands on the gun. “Yes. I will shoot you if you don’t let me out that door.”
“Do you know who I am, girl?”
She shook her head. “Makes no difference. To me you’re just another grubby cowboy, and if you come any closer, I’ll shoot.”
“Well, let’s just see about that.” He moved forward, and Anna continued to back up. Shooting Big Ben after he’d assaulted her and tried to kill Wes had been easy, but looking straight at this man, his eyes boring into hers, she hesitated.
He took a quick step forward, she moved once more, and her knees hit the back of the bed. She bounced as she landed on the mattress, and the gun went off.
“Goddammit!” The man grasped his leg and howled. “You little bitch, I’ll see you hanged for this.”
Anna jumped up, shoved the gun into her pocket and raced for the door. Halfway down the stairs, she collided with Mr. Mason. “What the hell’s goin’ on up there?” He motioned to the top of the stairs. “I heard a gunshot.”
“He tried to attack me.” She waved her arm in the direction of the second floor.
“Who? What’re you talkin’ about, girlie?”
Just then the door opened and the man limped out, holding his leg. Blood dripped from between his fingers, pooling in small spots on the floor. “That bitch shot me. I want her arrested.”
Mr. Mason paled. “Mr. Grayson, I’m sorry.” He turned to Anna. “What the hell have you done?”
“He tried to attack me.”
“Take her to the marshal,” Mr. Grayson shouted. “Then get me the doctor.”
When Mr. Mason continued to stare at him, slack-jawed, Grayson shouted. “Move, man.”
Her boss grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the stairs.
Anna struggled, but he held firm. “I’m gonna have to take you to the jailhouse.”
“Aren’t you listening? He tried to attack me!” She yelled.
“Don’t make no difference. He’s an important man in this here town, and my best customer.”
For an older, skinny man, Mr. Mason had a lot of strength. He marched her across the street, and to the corner. No matter how many times Anna protested, he just tightened his grip and continued on. When they reached the marshal’s office, he opened the door and shoved her in.
Anna stumbled forward, and stopped her fall by grabbing the edge of Wes’s desk with both hands. He was sitting behind the desk, writing, a stack of ‘wanted’ posters in front of him. He looked up, and sent her a quick smile. “What happened now?”
Mr. Mason charged forward and pointed a finger at Anna. “This here girl just shot my best customer, and he wants her arrested.”
CHAPTER NINE
As Wes’s smile faded, he dropped his head in his hands and groaned. After a few beats, he glanced up from between his fingers. Yep. They were both still there. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Anna’s belligerent stance, and the way she glared daggers at Mason was all he needed to know she was in trouble again.
Lord, the woman would drive him loco yet. “Start talking.”
Mason and Anna both shouted at the same time.
“Hold up!” Once Wes had their attention, he gestured to Anna. “You start.”
She drew herself up, and wrenched her arm from Mason’s grip. “I was minding my own business, making beds at the hotel.”
Wes’s eyebrows rose. “Making beds?”
“Yes,” she snapped, “my new job.”
“Not anymore, girlie,” Mason growled.
Wes sighed. “Continue, Anna.”
“Some horrible man came into the room, and attempted to assault me!”
“Assault you? You mean he hit you?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “No, marshal. He tried to sexually assault me.”
Wes felt the heat rise to his face. Anna had the most interesting way of saying things.
“He was just being friendly.” Mason pointed a finger at Anna’s chest, and she whacked it away.
“How would you know? You weren’t even there,” she countered.
“I know Mr. Grayson. He’s the friendly type. And he woulda paid ya’ well.”
“You see what I mean?” Anna flung her hands up, then slammed them on her hips. “How dare you! I am not that kind of a woman. I was hired to clean rooms, that is all.”
“Well, you must’ve given Mr. Grayson other ideas because—”
Wes stood and placed two fingers in his mouth, then let out with a shrill whistle.
Blessed silence reigned. “Anna. Get to the shooting.”
She tugged on the sleeves of her dress, and smoothed her skirt. “Yes. Well, when he tried to get friendly,” she scowled at Mason, “I told him I was not interested, and he refused to let me leave the room.”
Wes nodded. “Go on.”
“I pulled out my pistol.” She peeked at him under her eyelashes. “But he kept coming at me, so I backed up, and my legs hit the
bed. When I fell, the gun went off.” She glared at Mason. “Accidentally.”
“How badly was he hurt?” Wes fought to hold in a sudden chuckle.
“He’s bleeding all over the floor. She shot a hole right in his leg.” Mason shook his fist at Wes. “And he’s my best customer.”
Wes closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you send for the doctor?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, I suggest you leave Miss Devlin to me, and you fetch the doctor, or your best customer will be headed for the undertaker.”
Startled into action, a pale Mason hurried from the room. As he opened the door, he shouted over his shoulder, “Mr. Grayson wants her locked up.”
Wes flapped a dismissive hand at him. “Let me take care of it. You see to your customer.” He returned his attention to Anna. Her body was stiff, her arms crossed over her chest, and she tapped the floor with her foot. And he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Righteous anger had colored her cheeks red. Her eyes still flashed, and clumps of hair had fallen from her top knot, surrounding her face with a riot of curls. She chewed her lips, right where he wanted to place his. He chided himself. Anna Devlin was not the woman for him.
But oh, if she were . . . he’d lock the front door and have her naked and draped across the desk in no time. He’d take hours kissing and nipping every inch of the body he’d undressed in his mind for days. Everything about Anna would catch a man’s attention−her face, her curves, and even her reckless manner. No wonder she was always in trouble with the men.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?”
She leaned over the desk. “This was not my fault.”
“Sit down, Anna.”
Like a regal queen, she smoothed her hair back, then perched on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap. The picture of a perfect lady.
Wes held out his hand. “Give me the gun.”
She shook her head.
“Anna. Give me the gun.”
“No.”
He rose to his full height and glared at her. “As a Federal Marshal I order you to give me your gun.”
Anna snorted and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a gun he’d never seen the likes of before. He took it from her and turned it in his hand, examining each part. “Where did you get this?”