Much Ado About Madams

by Jacquie Rogers

  Lucinda finished picking the rocks, and for good measure, discarded the sticks as well.

  “I’ll take my turn at shoveling now.”

  “I’m just about done. You rest a bit and we’ll take off.”

  She leaned against the mountainside and watched him work, wondering what made him such an enigma. He owned a brothel, yet he treated the ladies with kindness. He’d proven himself a good businessman, he also sat a fine seat on his horse, and could handle himself in a brawl. Even so, she doubted he wanted to add road-building to his repertoire.

  Finally the digging stopped. “All done.” Sweat soaked his shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of mud.

  “I could fix you a bite to eat.”

  “Thanks, but the food better wait. I want to get the wagon off this section of the road while it still holds, and before any more rocks decide to fall on us.”

  She nodded. “You’ve put in a day’s work so I thought you’d need a little rest.”

  “I do, but first, I want you to get behind the wagon while I release the brakes, then lead the team past the road patch. You can get on the wagon after that.”

  “Does that mean the road might not hold?”

  “Yep. You never know when these mountain roads will give way as it is, and this portion is weakened. Luckily, we’re hauling very little weight.”

  “I see.” And she did. The whole time she’d been standing there, she’d seen evidence of rocks falling down the side of the road and into the canyon below.

  He climbed onto the back of the wagon and stepped carefully to the seat, unwound the ribbons and cooed to the team as if to tell them in horse talk what he expected of them. Without flicking the reins, he said, “Gid-up, now,” in a low voice.

  The horses pulled the wagon forward smoothly but slowly, sending rocks skittering down the cliff. Lucinda could barely breathe for the tension. Finally, Reese stopped the wagon about twenty yards on the other side of the newly cleared section.

  “Oh, my!” Her legs wobbled and her feet wouldn’t move—the mountain was too high, the canyon too deep, and her courage completely missing. She’d encountered nothing like this at Miss Hattie’s School for the Refinement of Young Ladies. At least when the wagon was there, or when she was ahead of it, she’d felt a modicum of security.

  “Are you coming?”

  She couldn’t answer.

  After a moment, Reese set the brake and climbed over the wagon bed. “I’ll get you. Stay right there.”

  As if she’d do anything else.

  Each step he took reassured her, and soon he was directly in front of her. “Miss Sharpe?”

  She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, his warmth and strength serving as salve to her fear. Within a few heartbeats, he hugged her and rubbed her sore back.

  “You’ve been through a lot, Miss Sharpe. We’ll be on our way now.”

  His gentle smile and kind eyes were her undoing. She stood on her tippy-toes and brushed a kiss on his cheek, but he turned his mouth toward her lips and connected full on. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

  Whether from her giddiness from the sudden and unreasonable panic, or from wanting him for so long, she couldn’t know, but his kiss sent waves of pleasure rippling all the way down to her toes. “Then do it again.”

  She closed her eyes and waited. He didn’t disappoint her. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he kissed her harder this time, and just a little flick of his tongue on her lower lip nearly melted her knees.

  Reese cleared his throat and set her a few inches away from him. “Do you want me to carry you to the wagon? Or would you rather walk? We have to get off this mountain before anything else happens.”

  “I’ll walk.” She sure didn’t want to be any higher off the ground than necessary.

  “You stay close to the mountainside, and I’ll be right beside you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McAdams.” His presence reassured her, or maybe it was the kiss. Either way, she felt like she could fly to the wagon.

  “I think we’re well enough acquainted now, you can call me Reese. If you prefer me to call you Miss Sharpe, I will.”

  “No—no, we’re well acquainted now. You may address me as Lucinda in private, and, um, there’s one other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “The spoke is cracked.” When they got to the wagon, she pointed to the back right wheel.

  “Damn.” He ran his hand over the spoke and groaned. “It’s not broken but I doubt this will hold, and there’s not room to change it here. Let’s hope it’ll get us across the mountain.”

  Considering the circumstances, she didn’t remind him not to curse.

  “Pardon my French.”

  * * * * *

  Miss Lucinda Sharpe could drive a man crazy. Nothing like intelligence, beauty, spirit, and warm, inviting lips all in one package. And a good dose of stubbornness. He’d made small talk to calm her down as they drove to the other side of the mountain, and approached flatter land. The wheel hadn’t made any noise and he hoped that, with a little care and a lot of luck, it would hold out until they got to Silver City.

  “How’d you come to be a schoolteacher?”

  She smirked. “Not much else to do at Miss Hattie’s School for the Refinement of Young Ladies. Some fellows came courting but I was more interested in winning suffrage than pretending to like someone who needed a maid.”

  The road widened and the wagon had a couple feet of clearance on either side, which was welcome.

  “Why’d you order all those school supplies?” He guided the team around the bend, where the road turned into jagged ruts, jostling Lucinda, and she grabbed his arm. Just as quickly, she released him and held the front edge of the seat. With some difficulty, he maneuvered the horses and wagon so one side stayed on the center ridge and the other was on the roadside.

  “Truth?” She kept her gaze straight ahead. “I thought you’d send them back. Maybe I wanted to see how important education was to you.”

  “Back home, my mother insisted I graduate all twelve grades. She wanted me to read for the law and I went to Harvard for a year, but I wanted to fight Indians, so I joined the cavalry and came west. Probably should’ve done what she wanted.”

  “That bad?”

  “I don’t mind fighting, but we saw things no man should ever see.”

  “We?”

  “The twins, Logan, and me. They were in my troop. Damned good fighting men, excuse my French.”

  “I can believe it after seeing the fight at the Comfort Palace. And there’s no excuse for ‘French,’ as you call it.”

  Reese chuckled. “You have to tell me, where’d you learn to rope like that?”

  “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

  “Your luck, not mine.”

  “It stopped the fight.”

  One wheel fell into the foot-deep rut and he heard a loud crack. The wagon jolted to a stop and Lucinda pitched forward. Reese grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

  “What happened?”

  “Lemme check.”

  “You can let go now.”

  He didn’t want to, but he removed his arm from her waist. Much as he hated the thought of changing a wheel, at least the incident had put her where he wanted her—tight against him. He secured the ribbons and hopped down. “You stay here.”

  “I hope nothing’s broken.”

  The front wheel was shattered all to hell. “It is. We have another wheel that Gus wanted fixed. I’ll see if it’s usable, but even if it is, changing a wheel isn’t exactly easy.”

  She pulled off her ragged gloves and for the first time, he noticed the blood on her hands. Never once had she complained. If ever he wanted a woman for keeps, she’d be the one.

  “Well, Mr. McAdams—

  “Reese.”

  “Er, Reese, at least there’s some room on either side of the road here.”

  He hopped off the wagon and threw bac
k the tarp. The wheel looked to be the right size and looked beat up some, but usable. “Luck’s with us, Lucinda. Gus even threw in a jack.”

  “Good!”

  “No handle, though.”

  “Bad.” She climbed off the wagon and joined him at the tailgate. “Maybe you could use the pick handle?”

  “Good idea.”

  Reese figured he’d finally tired her out of all this suffragist nonsense because she was content to fetch and carry instead of insisting on changing the wheel herself.

  “Are you ready for some food now?”

  “Yes, I’ll have a bite or two, but we have to get moving and it takes both hands to handle the reins, especially on this road.”

  “No problem, I’ll feed you.” She wrestled a few things out of the picnic basket. “Oh, and I found a little stream up the road while you were changing the wheel, so I washed up and filled the canteen. You might feel better if you washed, too.”

  He’d feel better when he had a hot bath, hot food, and a hot woman in his bed. Getting the latter would be a lot more likely if he took Lucinda’s advice. Only thing is, he doubted the hot woman he wanted would be amenable. The last time they slept together she tried to beat him half to death.

  The kiss. He still felt it. Did she?

  “Good idea. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Chapter 13

  Lucinda flushed warm all over. That kiss made her tingle clear down to her tootsies every time she thought about it, so she tried not to. She wanted Reese to kiss her again, so sweet, yet earth-shattering. Much as she hated to admit it, she’d lost her heart to the very type of man she despised—except he’d turned out to be not that type of man at all, baffling her, enticing her with nearly everything he did. Why did he have to own a brothel?

  He came back dripping wet but smelling a lot better. Lucinda handed him the table cloth to dry off, then moved the picnic basket to the front of the wagon, just in back of the seat. “Bring the canteen. We’re ready to go if you’re done with the wheel.”

  “All set.”

  Reese offered his assistance but she shook her head. Actually, it was nice to have a gentleman help her, but the trip to a suffragist meeting wasn’t the time to concede. He checked the horses, then climbed into the driver’s seat, and they were on their way. Finally.

  “Will we still get to Silver City in time for the suffragist meeting?” The meeting wasn’t until morning, but she had no idea how far they had to go, and the sun slipped all too quickly toward the western horizon.

  “Tonight’s a full moon so I doubt we’ll have to stop before we get there. This bad patch of road should end in a mile or two, and then we have a decent road all the way to town.”

  “Good.” Unfortunately, she only had one other pair of gloves with her so, indecent or not, she was bare-handed. Her bonnet hadn’t fared well, either. “With the way I look, it’s best we not arrive until after dark.”

  He laughed. “You look like a beautiful flower, only maybe a little crumpled, like when a little boy picks a dandelion for his mama. Once she puts it in a glass of water, it perks right up.”

  She wasn’t all that keen about being compared to a dandelion, but wondered if he, in fact, had been that little boy. Reese always spoke so admiringly about his mother.

  Reese nodded at the picnic basket behind her. “How about some food.”

  “Which do you want first—peaches, jerky, or biscuit?”

  “You choose. My belly isn’t picky.”

  Lucinda retrieved the jerky, figuring it would take him a while to chew, and give her some time to fetch the rest of the food from the basket. “Here.” She ripped off a bite-size piece and held it to his mouth. His lips brushed her fingers sending a tingle to her heart.

  What a manly sight. She couldn’t take her gaze away from his broad shoulders, muscles flexing, as his strong hands were occupied with the ribbons. After feeding him another bite of jerky, she unwrapped the Mason jar of sliced peaches and opened it.

  “Ready for a little sweetness?”

  “Darlin’, it can’t possibly be as sweet as the sugar we shared back there.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “I’m planning to watch you plop that peach right in my mouth.”

  She shoved a slice in to quiet him, but then a drip fell on his chin so she wiped it with her finger and he licked it off. She seemed to have a direct line from there to her womanly parts. Suffragist or not, this man could change any woman’s mind. Maybe the free love advocate, Victoria Woodhall, was right.

  “Are you going to eat? Or just stare at me?”

  “Um, I’ll wait until you’ve had your fill. I’m not very hungry.” At least, not for food. “And just because you kissed me, doesn’t mean you can take other liberties.”

  “I’d never dream of it.”

  * * * * *

  The sun set but under the light of the full moon, they finally pulled into Silver City. Lucinda’s backside was plenty ready to be off the wagon and into a tub of nice, hot water. Plus, her shoulders and back had stiffened from her earlier shoveling, something she hoped she’d never have to repeat.

  None of that could compete with her annoyance that he didn’t want to take liberties with her. How could you kiss someone like that and not want to? But there it was. Good thing she had the suffragist cause because obviously the womanly business wasn’t her forte. And, much as she hated to admit it, she wanted him to want her.

  Reese pulled the team to a stop in front of the Idaho Hotel, where piano music, cigar smoke mixed with wood smoke, and the low rumble of male voices filled the air.

  A man in a blue livery uniform stepped off the porch and offered to take the horses and wagon to the livery.

  “How much?” Reese asked.

  “A dollar for unhitching and rubbing down the stock, and a good ration of oats.”

  “Check their hooves, too. Tell the blacksmith that the back right wheel on the wagon is broken, and in the bed, there’s a tongue and another broken wheel that need fixed, too.” He threw the man a coin. “The lady has a trunk that needs brought in.”

  Meantime, Lucinda climbed off the wagon to stretch her lower limbs. Sore all over, the simple act of walking into the lobby would be an effort. She waited for Reese to escort her. Even though she had her own money, it wouldn’t be at all proper for a single lady to enter the premises.

  He rounded the wagon carrying his valise and offered her his arm. She grasped his bicep, and with the other hand, lifted her skirts to ascend the steps. The clerk handed Reese a quill and he signed his name.

  “Would you and Mrs. McAdams like a bath brought to your room?”

  Lucinda gasped. “Oh, no. We’re not married.”

  He raised his eyebrow.

  “I mean, we’ll take two rooms, please.”

  “Ah, I see. Mr. McAdams, please record the young lady’s name below yours.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of writing my own name, and paying for my own room.” She took the quill from Reese, who shot her a wicked grin, and signed the book. “And yes, I’d like a bath brought.”

  “As would the gentleman?”

  Reese nodded. “And we’d like hot meals, too, after the baths.”

  They each paid and the clerk gave Reese both their keys, which riled Lucinda even more. Men like the clerk were the very reason the suffragists needed to prevail.

  “Up the stairs, back two rooms on the left.” She headed for the stairway. “Mr. McAdams, don’t you own the Comfort Palace in Dickshooter?”

  “Yes, I do, and no, the lady has nothing to do with that establishment.”

  Lucinda couldn’t get away from the clerk soon enough even though her muscles protested at the very thought of climbing the stairs. She led the way and Reese followed.

  “I supposed the whole of Silver City will see me as a fallen woman now.”

  “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Somehow, that didn’t reassure her. On the second floor, the
narrowness of the hallway made Reese loom that much larger as he passed her by and unlocked both rooms.

  “You choose.” He stood back so she could make her decision. The last room might be more secure because an intruder would have to pass by Reese’s room to get there, but was also chillier.

  “I’ll take the end room, if you don’t mind, provided they bring more blankets.”

  “I don’t mind, and I’m sure they will oblige you with another blanket, but that room will be noisier as the night wears on and men get liquored up.”

  “You’re right, and I’m silly to be thinking that anyone would break into the room.”

  “Not so silly—you can never be too careful in the city.” He gave her one of his pistols. “Either way, you should have this by your bedside, and don’t hesitate to use it.”

  She opted for the warmer room. “I’ll take the second room, then, but I still want an extra blanket.” Or him. He’d keep her warm. Very warm. All over. Feeding him peaches had been a big mistake. Kissing him had been a revelation to the sun and the moon and the stars. Still pure, too, since he didn’t want her.

  Maybe the hotel clerk was right.

  Lucinda entered the room and sat on the bed, testing it for comfort. She noticed the door to the adjoining room—Reese’s room. It had a deadbolt, so was no concern. He cleared his throat. “Would you like your key? Or do you want me to keep it.”

  She hopped up. “I’ll take it, thank you.” And then she groaned and massaged her shoulder. “I don’t mind saying that shoveling is not my favorite thing.”

  “Maybe you’d like a massage after your bath?”

  “Oh, they have a masseuse here?”

  “No, but I’d oblige.”

  She wouldn’t even dignify that with an answer, no matter how good it sounded. How could she possibly attend a suffragist meeting after having spent the night being massaged by a brothel owner?

  A man delivered the tub within a few minutes, but told her they were still heating water. “I’ll get your trunk now.”

  Twenty minutes later, she sunk in a lavender-scented tub of gloriously hot water. With her eyes closed, she relived Reese licking the peach juice from her fingers. The kiss, the feel of his strong arms around her.