When A Cowboy Asks (A Rancher's Bride Book 2)

by Chula Stone

  When a Cowboy Asks

  A Rancher’s Bride, Book Two

  Chula Stone

  Blushing Books

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  What A Pip

  About the Author

  EBook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Blushing Books

  All rights reserved.

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  Stone, Chula

  When a Cowboy Asks

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-68259-962-4

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Chapter 1

  Merriview, Texas 1866

  The train rattled as if it were made of tin pot lids held together by bailing wire. Barty Shepard let his hat slink down further over his eyes and gave a little snore. The cowboy had learned many interesting things over the years by keeping his ears open and his eyes shut. Today was no different. The two dudes in the car with him started talking almost immediately.

  The first man to speak was the tenderfoot Shep had spotted a mile off, back when he had boarded the train. That bowler hat might be just the thing for going to the opera in Baltimore, but it would bake a man’s brains in Butler, Texas. And those soft gloves. What were they for? Picking up ladies’ hankies when they dropped at his feet? Shep was sure that happened all the time to a dandy like this Bailey Branson fellow. He hadn’t even shaken hands when Shep introduced himself. “I just hope this uncouth contraption will hold together long enough to transport us through this god-forsaken wilderness. How much further until we reach the town?”

  The older gentleman of the same last name answered. Shep had pegged him for a lawyer as soon as he opened his mouth. “It will be about another hour before we reach Merriview. Our time would be wisely spent in beginning your introduction to the area. There, for example, is the turnoff to the Sloan estate. That will be important to you, since it is principally on their account that you are being brought into the firm.”

  “That and the fact that I am your nephew,” Bailey answered laconically. “There’s no need to mince words while we are in private.”

  Shep could hear the tension in the older man’s voice. “I have no wish to admit to anything to which my partner Mr. Combs might object if he heard, so you will kindly recall that you are to be our business law consultant. Do I make myself clear? Nephew or no, you will pull your weight around this firm or you will be dismissed. I told my brother I would expect peak performance from you. The opportunity is the only thing you will be given. Respect must be earned.”

  Shep didn’t have to see the tenderfoot’s sneer. He could hear it in his voice as clearly as a foghorn. “I can’t see how that will be much of a challenge. How complex can the business dealings around here be?”

  “The Sloans themselves might present more intricacies than you might think,” the older lawyer replied. “First and foremost are the arrangements for the trust fund for the children. I believe at the moment there are ten all together, though the number is prone to increase.” He gave a slight cough as if he were slightly amused by the procreative activities of the Sloan brothers and trying to be discreet. “The fact that two brothers are joint owners in several ventures sounds benign enough, but it isn’t just the logging and the equine business involved. Their wives are also of an entrepreneurial spirit and cooperate in stock raising as well as commercial pursuits in town.”

  “The Sloans allow their wives to run businesses?” the younger lawyer asked. Shep worked hard to keep his smile off his face. From what he recalled, Slingo Sloan would have had a tough enough job corralling his wife, but Vince would have found the task of stopping his wife, Pinkie, from doing anything she wanted to do next to, if not totally, impossible. Perhaps it had been his extreme youth that had made her seem like such a force of nature in his eyes. After a decade of hard living, most of it in the Army serving as a scout and procurement
specialist, Shep hoped he would be better able to hold his own against both of the females, but he had no intention of trying to bet against anything they were backing.

  “They are part owners in a bakery, a tea shop, a hat shop and a lending library,” the older Mr. Branson responded. “To help with those endeavors they raise prize-winning hens and exotic fowl, such as peacocks, along with other livestock. The younger Sloan’s wife was associated at one time with a traveling circus, I believe, so her contacts continue to draw the ladies into unique opportunities that have often turned out quite lucrative, but present certain legal challenges. That would be Mrs. Drina Sloan, wife of Slingo. Then there is Mrs. Pinkie Sloan, wife of Vincent, who sees to the day to day affairs of the establishments in town. She’s the one you will probably have to deal with more. She can be, shall we say, a force to be reckoned with.”

  “I look forward to bringing her into line with my way of thinking then,” Bailey Branson boasted. Shep had to stifle a snort of laughter. The prospect of watching this young popinjay trying to bring Mrs. Pinkie into line on anything had Shep wondering if it might be worth hanging around Merriview for a bit after all. He hadn’t seen a prize fight in a while and this sounded like the next best thing.

  But Shep had a job to get back to. This delivery was just by way of being a side trip that the boss allowed because relations were still good between him and his old cowhands Vince and Slingo, but Mr. Bumford wouldn’t hold this job forever. He felt incredibly lucky to be going back to his same old job at all. Most of the men he knew who left the Army after their hitches had to start all over again from scratch. It was still worth it. He felt good about helping his country grow by bringing law and order to newly settled areas, but it was time for him to settle down along with the country and do some growing of his own.

  A nice little house, a good horse, some stock to start out with would all come in time. The first thing was to find him a nice little gal to call his own. Somebody calm and cheerful, like Slingo’s wife, Drina, who loved to stay at home and take care of her man. Or even somebody like Vince’s wife, Pinkie, would be all right. He wouldn’t mind town life and seeing more of the crowds and bustle that he’d been missing in his life as a scout. So he was looking forward to seeing the Sloan brothers and getting a few more tips on how to find a good wife. He’d already followed their first bit of advice. They’d told him to go see Mr. Gabor, their friend who ran the traveling circus.

  So that was how he had gotten the task of accompanying his exotic cargo from the warmer southern regions of Texas where the circus spent the winter back up to the isolated northern Texas town of Merriview. Mr. Gabor and his clan were much as he remembered them, the men tending toward swarthy strength and the ladies favoring bright dresses to accent their larger than life manners. Because of his connection with Drina, Shep was accepted as a welcome guest to be taken care of rather than an outsider to be relieved of as much of the coin in his pocket as might be legally extracted. Shep had always respected Mr. Gabor’s clan in that they were honestly providing much needed entertainment in out of the way places, but the unwary visitor to his camp might spend more on impulse than he had intended. Shep had stayed for a show and a meal, paying a fair price for both before conducting the Sloans’ business.

  As if on cue, the exotic cargo, or at least part of it, was making itself heard from the next car. Shep sat up slowly and pushed his hat back into the correct position to allow him to see. “This isn’t what I usually mean when I say that I have to answer the call of nature,” he quipped, jerking a thumb toward the next train car.

  “If you can’t shut that bird up, I know a good butcher who could do the job,” Bailey drawled in response.

  “He’s never been on a train before.” Shep shrugged his broad shoulders and ducked his head as he went through the door. Before he could get out of earshot, one other exchange between the two lawyers held his attention to the extent of making him pause in his tracks for a moment.

  The elder spoke first. “There is one more thing you should know about the Sloan situation. Mr. Vincent Sloan recently registered with me his desire to purchase the building his wife is now leasing for her café. This would be easily arranged except for the fact that ownership of the building is in something of a shady area.”

  “So tracking down the ownership of the property will be one of my first tasks. Does he have the means to purchase what he wants?”

  “Most certainly,” replied the elder man. “The ranch he and his brother inherited has become quite profitable. The owners of the building, whoever they turn out to be, are probably unaware of his financial standing. He takes great pains to keep his situation private.”

  “A canny business man, this Vince Sloan? He knows that any property he is interested in will rise in price simply because he is interested?”

  “Yes, but that isn’t the only reason he keeps his wealth more or less a secret. The Sloans have never been pretentious.”

  “So much the better,” replied the younger lawyer with a sniff. “Acting on behalf of the uneducated masses is trying enough. Working with a glorified cowboy with delusions of grandeur would be intolerable.”

  “That kind of attitude will win you no acclaim, Bailey. Neither in the town nor in my office.” The chill in the older lawyer’s voice warmed Shep’s heart as he moved on. If ever a man needed putting in his place, it was this Bailey character. Shep only hoped that he would be able to take a hand in the treatment of whatever it was that ailed the snobbish stranger.

  He made his way carefully along the narrow aisle that led through to the freight car. By the time he reached the cages containing his charges, several of the other occupants of the car were responding to the calls that threatened to pierce Shep’s eardrums. Opening the cage door, he let the fractious bird out. “That’ll be about enough from you, young scoundrel,” Shep scolded mildly. “We all know you’re here. Are you feeling neglected? Don’t worry. You’ll be king of the valley in just a few more hours. Wait! Don’t do that in here! There’s no room!”

  Too late. The bird had already spread his magnificent feathers out as wide as they would go. His plumage was not as broad as it would be when he reached full maturity, but it was still impressive enough to startle Shep back on his heels. He spat the edge of a feather out of his mouth. “Peacocks! I never thought I’d ever have to deal with the likes of you again! The day Vince took his wife’s old peacock King Solomon and his harem out of Mr. Bumford’s back yard was one of the happiest days of my life! Good thing nobody told me I’d be having to bring his replacement with me a decade later. I might have stayed in the Army.”

  To give the bird a break from his confinement, Shep went to check on the other animals in his care. They all seemed to be doing fine, placidly waiting in their characteristically stoic manner. “You’ll be all right there, boy. Just a little while longer and you’ll get off this train and dive right into a pot of jam the likes of which you’ve never known. You can’t have any idea how lucky you are to be going to those Sloan ladies. Nobody loves critters like them. You’ll be spoiled to pieces inside a week unless they’ve changed, and somehow I doubt that. Now, all I have to do is ask their husbands how I can get a gal who’ll spoil me that way.”

  Gabor had given him some good advice after their official negotiations had ended. Even his wife had gotten in on the act but since they didn’t know him well, the best they could say was for him to get a move on. He wasn’t getting any younger and having kids was definitely a young man’s game.

  Shep gathered up the young peacock and tempted him back into his crate by sprinkling a line of sweet feed into its far recesses. The rhythmic clacking and violent waggling of the train told him that they were crossing the final bridge over the chasm that had kept Merriview so isolated for so long. This same bridge was mostly responsible for the town’s newfound wealth and growth spurt, but the Sloans were probably contributing to it as well, Shep figured. Maybe he should come work for the Sloans for a while.

&
nbsp; When Shep resumed his seat in the car, the tenderfoot drew his legs up and wrinkled his nose. Now, he knew he wasn’t as polished and pretty as that pedigreed show dog, but there was no call for him to be acting like Shep had the plague. Sometimes a fellow needed to be taken down a peg, but then again, what did it matter to him? He saw no need to call the man out and on a train, there was no way to ‘take it outside’ as he might like to. Instead, he thought he’d see a little more of what the man was made of. “So, ya’ll are kin to each other? You don’t exactly favor strongly,” he began innocently enough, pointing vaguely toward his eyes to indicate that was where he noticed the strongest lack of resemblance.

  The elder of the Branson’s replied. “Yes, I am this young man’s uncle.” He took a card out of a carrying case and handed it to Shep. “This is our firm, Branson and Combs. If you ever find yourself in need of legal services, we provide the gold standard in the region.”

  Shep pocketed the card in his leather vest. “Thank you kindly. I’ll keep that in mind. There is one way I know of already that you could help me, maybe. Have you got any female kinfolk by chance?” Waiting for the affronted look he knew would come, he continued placidly. “I’m looking for a woman-cooked meal and the sight of a pretty face wouldn’t hurt either. I was hoping you might know of a lady who provides meals out of her kitchen who might do me some fried chicken and potato salad?”

  The younger Branson gave a sneer that nearly shaved Shep’s beard. “Uncle Alvin, aren’t there any standards for admittance to the first class section of this train?”

  The older lawyer settled back into his seat. Clearing his throat loudly, he scowled mildly at Shep. “My female relations do not cook for pay. And you might not know it, young man, but a gentleman doesn’t usually discuss such matters with strangers.”