“Let me loose, Coral,” the judge demanded. “Right now!”
Immediately, their roles reversed, his authority coming through strongly in his deep commanding voice. Quickly, she moved to the head of the bed and released one leather strap. As she rushed to the foot and began working the buckles there, the door flew open.
Judge Stone roared in outrage, and not so little embarrassment at being found naked, with a red ass, and still bound by his right wrist and both ankles. Coral jumped back, stunned that someone would dare enter one of the occupied rooms. Her eyes flew to the man standing in the doorway. Instant recognition made her heart stutter mid-beat.
“Harvey,” she gasped.
“You’ve given me a fine chase, little girl. The jig is up now, however. It’s time to go home.”
“No! I won’t go back! You can’t make me.”
“I can and you will, young lady.” His narrowed eyes scanned the room, taking in first her appearance in a scathing glance, from the top of her head with her coppery curls, over her painted face, down to the neckline of her work dress, cut low and wide to reveal the upper curves of her breasts. They were heaving now as fear shortened her breath and left her panting. Then his head turned to the man who had released his other restraints and was hauling a sheet around himself, covering his nudity as he stood in outrage.
“Is this what you left me for, Carissa Anne? To barter yourself like a common tart down on fifth street? What would your papa say?”
Anger swept through her. “Was he any better? Selling me off to the highest bidder, one after another. At least here, I choose who and how, and get something besides ridicule for my efforts.”
“Really? The lash in your hand that blistered this man jack’s ass doesn’t set you up for mockery? Please…”
Her eyes rose to Jewel and Gabriel who stood behind him in the doorway. Although Mister Gabe had come prepared for the worst, pistol at the ready, both gaped in shock, as did the other girls who had come out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about. Were they surprised that she was dishing it out or that Judge Stone was taking it?
She turned to her customer, seeing his embarrassment in the red flags flying crimson on his cheeks and the twitch in his clenched jaw.
“I’m so sorry for this, Emory,” she whispered.
“This intruder’s rudeness is not your fault, Coral.” But he wouldn’t look at her, or anyone else as he gathered his clothes and went behind the dressing screen in the corner.
She looked back at the true culprit in this fiasco, the uninvited man from her past who stood glaring at her from the doorway.
“Go back to New York,” she told him. “I’m not returning and you can give that message to my father. Neither he, nor you, own me!”
He pulled folded papers out of the breast pocket of his topcoat. “This betrothal contract states otherwise, Carissa.”
Something inside her snapped at his use of her real name, something she had kept well hidden for this very reason. She rushed forward and before he could react, snatched them out of his hand. She opened them and scanned them quickly. “As I thought, I didn’t sign these.” She ripped them clean in two and threw them at him. “Null and void.” She spun as the judge emerged from the screen. “Isn’t that right, Emory?”
“If you didn’t sign it, Coral, then yes, the contract would be void.”
“Unless your father has your proxy and signed it for you.”
Emory cleared his throat. “That, of course, would make a difference.”
“I never signed such a document,” Coral sputtered in outrage.
“Ah,” Harvey hummed, his eyes twinkling as he played his trump card, “but you did. And breach of this agreement will forfeit all that you inherited from your grandmother and your husbands.”
“Husbands?” Gabriel echoed. “You said she had no attachments when you took her on, Jewel.”
“I’m a widow,” Coral explained quickly. “As such, I can make my own decisions. I’m not going anywhere with you, sir.”
“Your grandmother’s portion is forfeited too.”
“What?” she exclaimed. Grandma Archer, her mother’s mother had left her a small fortune. Enough to let her realize her dream of a bookstore and be comfortable the rest of her days. The wind was knocked clear out of her. “That’s not fair,” she protested, moving weakly to the bed and grasping the post at the foot. “She left that money to me a decade ago. The accounts are in my name only.”
“And they are included in the betrothal agreement.”
That gave her pause. This was obviously the reason the transfers didn’t go through. Damn her father and his constant manipulations. But she’d out manipulate him. She wouldn’t return to New York. Not ever. Not to the ridicule and suspicion, or the loneliness. Not to be a brood mare so he could get his precious heir. Nor would she live under her father’s thumb ever again.
At least here, as a whore, or what people believed her to be, she had friends, people who cared about her.
“Take it all. I don’t care,” she said tiredly. The stress of the past months, with George, the long trip, being robbed, finding herself alone and destitute, doing things she never thought she’d do to survive, and turning away the one man who she thought could bring her happiness. It all came crashing down on her and she leaned heavily against the bed, exhausted. “I’m too tired to fight anymore.”
“Don’t act rashly, honey,” Madame Jewel advised. “Let’s talk about this calmly, downstairs. Judge, I know this is an awkward situation, but could you join us and provide your legal expertise?”
“For Coral, yes, I can.”
“Excellent. Gabriel, would you kindly escort this gentleman downstairs?” Despite her polite address, the inflection she placed on the term, told everyone in the room, she doubted he was anything of the sort.
Jewel waited until the men left—Gabe, with pistol still drawn, pointed the way for their uninvited guest—then she drew near Coral and put an arm around her shoulders. It was a motherly gesture even though she was younger than her. Coral felt the caring behind it, and it eased her despondency, if only slightly.
“Take a moment to collect yourself, then come down and we’ll discuss this calmly. I’ve been through something like this, and believe me, things are not always as dire as they appear, especially in the heat of the moment.”
Coral didn’t agree, but she nodded anyway.
“Good. Compose yourself and be in my office in ten minutes.”
As she sailed through the door, she shooed the other girls back to their rooms. After the door closed behind them all and she was alone, Coral sat down hard on the bed. So hard, in fact, she bounced.
“What to do?” she wondered aloud to the empty room.
She had two hundred and seventy dollars saved, sum total, hardly enough to see her plans to fruition. The loss of grandmother’s inheritance would be devastating to her future, that was for certain. A long life at the Red Petticoat suddenly stretched out before her. And of having to watch as Bo moved on with his life, perhaps with the flirty brunette. It all felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest making it hard to breathe. The night George had died came flooding back as did the rising panic.
She had to get out of this mess, somehow. If she couldn’t contest the contract, and the proxy—which she had never signed—she didn’t dare risk going back solely to keep the money. As her husband, Harvey would have access to it anyway. And she couldn’t count on the law being on her side. This was also California, annexed, but in limbo; not quite a territory and still not a state. Who knew what rights women had in this new frontier? Her father was a very clever man. Having her proxy could mean she had to go along with almost anything.
No. She had to go, lose herself again, now.
Chapter Nine
Lurking in the dark behind the stable, she waited until Bo locked up and headed home. She’d still have to be careful because his neat little whitewashed house with green shutters was only about tw
o hundred yards away and set back from the stable. Using both hands to slide open the heavy wooden latch, she prayed that the doors wouldn’t squeak when they swung open. Thankfully, they didn’t make a sound and she slipped inside.
Hot and humid, the scent of hay and horses assailed her. It was a clean aroma, and not unwelcome, unlike the streets of New York during the summertime, which could frankly get quite ripe. It was an indicator that Bo kept an orderly stable and cared well for his animals.
“Let’s hope he trains them as well,” Coral muttered to herself. She changed that hope quickly to a prayer, considering she hadn’t ridden in well over a decade. It was long before they moved to the city, and even then, she hadn’t ever saddled a horse herself. Still, she was an intelligent woman and had watched the groom care for her father’s stock many times. She could do this.
Moving from stall to stall, she peered into each one, quickly passing the stallions that snorted and tossed their manes at her presence. All lifted their heads and eyed her suspiciously, except one, a smaller horse, with a beautiful blonde coat. She moved closer as Coral approached.
“How would you like to take me for a ride, pretty girl?” she asked of the horse, as she held out her hand. Then she peered down her side and tried to see if she’d guessed right, though in the dark she couldn’t tell. “You’re so sweet and friendly, you must be female.”
As if understanding, the horse blew out a breath and bowed her head. Coral smiled and tentatively stroked her silky nose. When she accepted the caress, she petted her head and rubbed along her neck as she nickered softly.
“Yes, definitely a girl. I’m sorry I don’t have an apple. How about I owe you one, or a whole bushel, once we get away?”
She opened the stall door and moved inside, thankful for the ribbon of moonlight shining in from the high side windows of the stable. Grabbing the saddle blanket that was draped over the stall wall, she laid it over the mare’s back. The polished leather saddle came next. As she lifted it, she grunted under its weight, being heavier than it looked. Once she’d heaved it onto the horse’s back, she eyed the cinch. Resting her head against the mare’s side, she managed to buckle the strap beneath her belly.
As she stepped back and admired her work, Coral patted the mare and murmured soft praise. Unfortunately, what came next was more of a challenge, having no idea where to find reins, or a bridle and bit, or how to go about putting them on her. She decided to go without, the horse so tame she could probably guide her with her hands in her mane, or her knees, once she got the hang of it again.
Nodding, her plan sounding reasonable, she lifted her skirt, ignoring the flash of red petticoat as she did so, and slipped her foot in the stirrup.
“Imagine that, a horse thief with a death wish.”
Coral screamed and spun around in surprise, her hand flying to her chest as her heart raced, thudding wildly against her breastbone. Bo stood in the stall doorway staring at her with his brawny arms folded across his broad chest.
“You scared the life out of me.”
“I suppose that would have been a kinder way to die then the broken neck you would have suffered if I hadn’t come along and caught you in the act.”
Still on edge from his sudden appearance out of nowhere, her mind refused to register the meaning of his words. It must have shown, because he grunted with impatience.
“The cinch is slack,” he explained. “And surely you didn’t intend to ride her without a bit and bridle?”
“Um, well… I, uh—” she stammered because that is exactly what she’d intended.
He shook his head as he moved forward. His broad hands curled around her upper arms and he moved her up against the side of the stall out of the way with firm authority.
“Don’t move an inch,” he warned, wagging a long finger in her face.
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and undid everything she had just done: unbuckling the strap and removing the saddle, sliding the blanket off with his free hand, while the other easily balanced the heavy molded leather in a one handed grip. As he turned his back and moved to the far wall, draping everything back where she’d gotten it, she ignored his order to stay put.
With her skirts bunched in her hands and pulled high to her knees, she darted past the mare and scampered through the stall door. Slipping on the straw strewn floor, she scrambled to stay upright, her gaze fixed on the wide flung rear door a dozen paces away. She’d almost reached it when the air rushed from her chest in a whoosh as a hard arm wound around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Immediately, she struggled, kicking and pulling at the unyielding arm that confined her as surely as prison bars.
“Let me go!”
“Horse thieves aren’t thought well of in these parts, or haven’t you heard?”
“I didn’t steal her.”
“You intended to!” he returned, his voice rising, plainly amazed by her audacity. “I caught you red handed. If I hadn’t come back, you’d be halfway to San Francisco by now. Or dead by the side of the road when that loose saddle shifted and threw you.”
“Please, I’m sorry. If you let me go, I swear I won’t ever bother you or your horses again.”
He didn’t answer as he tucked her under one arm handling her as easily as if she were a child, not a grown woman. Having been in trouble with him before, it was a familiar position. As was the way he toted her around as if she weighed nothing. He moved to the front of the stable and without putting her down, lit an oil lamp one handed. Only then did he set her on her feet, retaining a tight hold on one arm. His free hand captured her chin and tipped it up. She was surprised that he didn’t look as angry as she expected. Instead, his pale blue eyes twinkled in the low light and there was the beginning of a smile tipping up the corners of his mouth.
“You think manhandling me and hauling me around like a sack of potatoes is funny?” she demanded to know.
“Funny? No, though your struggles are amusing. Did you really think you could outrun or outwrestle me, little one?”
She snorted, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “No one has called me that since I was ten.”
“What? Little?” he asked, his eyes sliding down the length of her. As his gaze lingered longer on certain areas, his smile emerged full force. “Granted, you’re all woman, but I’m twice your weight, at least, and have a good eight inches on you. To me, you’re tiny and your struggles no more bothersome than a gnat.”
“If that’s true, shoo me away like one and I’ll be out of your way. No harm done.”
“There may have been no harm, but you trespassed and attempted to steal from me, and Madame Jewel.”
“Madame Jewel?” she repeated inanely. “I didn’t—”
“Sunshine is her mare. At least you had the good sense to stay away from Shadow, Mr. Vasquez’s stallion. He would have stomped you into the hay the moment you entered the stall.”
She closed her eyes, wondering how this night could get worse. Even if she wanted to stay, Jewel and Gabriel wouldn’t possibly want her to when they found out. After taking a risk by employing her in the first place, how did she repay them? By causing a raucous and then stealing from them. She felt sick.
“I could call the sheriff.”
Her eyes flew open, tears pooling in them and blurring his image as she imagined spending the night in the Culpepper Cove jail. Small, cramped and without the slightest comfort. she expected the cot was hard, the blanket thin, and the snoring man in the cell next door very loud as he invariably slept off the whiskey he’d imbibed before getting into an altercation which required the sheriff’s intervention and a night in the calaboose.
“Or…”
“I’ll take the or,” she blurted out.
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
“I don’t care. Please, I don’t want to be locked up with an inebriated snorer reeking of whiskey fumes.”
He blew out his breath, clearly puzzled, before he explained what she had agreed to. “My ‘or’ entails taking
care of your civil punishment here and now, over my knee, with your skirt raised, drawers lowered, and your bottom bared.”
Her jaw dropped as she inhaled sharply, both shocked and excited at the vivid picture his words created in her imaginative mind.
“So what’s it to be? The sheriff or me?”
Did he really expect her to choose one of those impossible options?
“I won’t wait all night. Decide, or I’ll decide for you.”
He did expect her to. Good grief.
“Coral…”
“You,” she squeaked.
“Wise choice.” Without any further postponements, he hauled her to a hay bale and sat down, easily flipping her over both knees. As he raked up her skirt and petticoat, she heard him grunt in displeasure. She twisted to see what else had set him off, but he swatted her sharply over her lacy drawers. “Be still.”
She was bared to his eyes then and felt the air on her skin as he pulled her drawers down to her knees. Then he laid into her, his paddle-like hand raining searing fire down on her backside. He wasn’t messing around either, catching her hand and pinning it to the small of her back when she reached back to protect her vulnerable bottom.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Bo, I’m sorry.”
“Now you are,” he muttered, not letting up. She lost track of how many spanks he applied first to one cheek and then the other, changing the tempo and moving all over, but that wasn’t all. Halfway through, he mixed it up again, concentrating his hard palm in one spot for at least a half dozen in a row, before moving to the opposite side. It was a much harder spanking than the other times, and she couldn’t keep a cry from escaping. Next, she was pleading with him.
“Please, I had no other choice. He wanted to take me back!”
This made him pause. “Who?”
“Unc… Unc-le Har… Ha-ha-harvey,” she managed to stammer out between sobs. “I won’t marry him, please, don’t make me.”
His hand returned to her scorching hot bottom, this time in a caress, rubbing the burning skin he had just set on fire.
Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 9