Annabelle Weston

by Scandalous Woman

  “Maybe later?” he asked.

  She shot him a sultry smile. “Only if you behave like a gentleman.” And have a bath. If she thought they’d cooperate, she’d have every cowpoke bathe before hopping into the sack.

  “In bed, I can be anything you want.” The others slapped him on the back and laughed.

  Carly climbed the stairs on shaky knees. She was barely to her room when she collapsed, her stomach cramping something fierce.

  “No,” she croaked, and managed to crawl to her bed. Sweat broke out over her whole body, and yet she was cold.

  Ester rushed in, clucking her tongue. “I warned the sheriff. I did. Told him not to mess with your medicine.” She swiped a cold, wet cloth on Carly’s forehead. “Now you’re gonna be sick for sure.”

  And she was. Carly leaned over and vomited into the waiting chamber pot until she was a limp, cramping mess.

  She wanted to die. The only thing that could save her was the elixir. Damn Jed for taking it away!

  * * * * *

  It was nearly suppertime two days later when Carly finally felt she could muster up the gumption to get out of bed. She hoped Ester had made some soup. A good meal might calm her nerves a bit. Except Carly didn’t have much of an appetite for victuals, but a powerful yearning for some of Dr. Baxter’s Eight-Day Elixir. Food would have to quell the thirst tonight. Her hands shook and her head pounded. She hated the feeling she got when the elixir left her body. At least the sweats and cramps had stopped. She’d been no good to anyone the past couple of days.

  She swiped a shot of whiskey, letting the sour liquid burn down her throat. The stuff did nothing that the opium-laced elixir could do, but she hoped it would suffice. When Alvin offered her up another shot, she shook her head. As much as she wanted to, she really had no taste for liquor. Only Dr. Baxter’s would do.

  When would the doc return to Tucson? He surely was taking his sweet time making his deliveries. She grew impatient with his absence—the headaches were coming on stronger. She couldn’t go on much longer with no elixir in her blood.

  The other girls had gathered in Miss Lorraine’s room and were draped across the bed. O’Dell had taught Miss Lorraine how to read and write and she was reading to them from a penny dreadful.

  Big Judith sat on a chair, knitting. The click of her needles provided a steady beat.

  Wasn’t this just the picture of domesticity? They were a family, Carly decided, good or bad. They stuck together, helped each other.

  Those Crowley girls had lost their pa and Carly recognized their fear. She’d been a lot younger when her pa died, she couldn’t even remember his face, but she’d never forgotten how frightened she’d been. Grief for those girls’ loss coursed through her. She hadn’t been insincere when she offered her condolences. Whatever happened, she hoped they would know Carly hadn’t been lying about that. Regret filled her at not telling someone what she’d heard. If she’d just been able to get a warning… Maybe their pa would still be alive.

  “Those corsets I told you about have arrived all the way from Paris, France.”

  Gladys squealed. The women made room on the bed.

  Carly set the package down and tore at the brown paper, revealing white, vanilla-scented tissue paper sealed with wax. She carefully picked off the wax. It was difficult to come by and cost dearly. She’d be able to use it again.

  The first corset exceeded every expectation. The women oohed and aahed when Carly held it up. Made of red satin and trimmed in black lace, the heavily boned garment was exquisite It even smelled good—like jasmine flowers from the Orient.

  “That one’s mine,” Gladys said and she lunged for it.

  Carly held the corset tight to her body. “I’ll keep this one.” She knew just the man who would like seeing her wear it.

  She left them to see herself in the mirror at the end of the hall. She could hear them squabbling over the rest of the corsets and sighed.

  The square of mirror had lost some of its silver backing but was adequate. She didn’t recognize the woman smiling back at her. She could be mistaken for a mischievous lady, if she wasn’t careful. Her smile faltered. Inside, she knew she was no lady.

  She laughed bitterly and shook her head as she unbuttoned her shirt and exposed her throat and chemise. She removed the pin from her hat and took it off.

  “That’s better.” Now she appeared exactly as she was.

  “Did you say something?” Ester came down the hall holding on to that porcelain doll she loved so much. The nose and cheeks were cracked but Ester wouldn’t hear of a replacement.

  “Just talking to myself.” Carly laughed.

  “I hope you’re hungry. I made enough soup for an army.”

  “Good,” Carly said. She folded the corset in half, pleased with her purchase and anxious to show it off to a very special lawman.

  * * * * *

  The Crowley funeral was held three days later and all of Tucson came to the graveyard to pay their respects. Carly and the other women of the Lonesome stood a distance apart. Mr. Crowley hadn’t been a customer, but as a fellow citizen of the territory, Carly decided they should attend.

  The Crowley girls—dressed in black—were surrounded by their friends. Their foreman glared in Carly’s direction before bowing his head at the freshly dug grave.

  Carly spotted Jed, along with seven other men, carrying the wood coffin from the coroner’s hearse-wagon.

  The eight men put the coffin to the side of the grave. Jed and the others stepped back. His expression was serious and he didn’t look as though he’d smiled in days. The man had a hefty weight on his shoulders.

  Carly wished she could go and stand beside him, massage the stress from his back. She yearned to be with him. The ache was like none she’d ever known. And not just in a sexual way. She wanted to comfort him, hold him, make him smile again.

  Since leaving the Crowley place, she had wondered where he was and what he was doing. Thought about what he’d found out, if he’d catch the bastards who’d done this.

  She’d hoped he’d come into the Lonesome, if only to talk. Well, maybe for more than talking. But if he only wanted to spar words, she’d be happy with that too.

  Perhaps she was making too much of his smile, his caress, his manly attributes, which were considerable. They were two different people—he upheld the law and she, in her line of work, gave the law a little nudge in the opposite direction from time to time. Nothing would change that.

  Guilt about keeping what she knew about the murder a secret had left a scar.

  The preacher started his speech, talking about how good a man and father Mr. Crowley had been. His words brought a spate of tears from his girls. Carly looked away, their grief was too raw for her to gape at.

  The sun beat down without mercy. The preacher took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He instructed the men to lower the coffin into the grave. Carly turned and walked away, followed by Ester. She hated to watch a body be put into the ground. It brought back painful memories—no more than flashes—of her mother and father. She’d been a wee thing, no more than three—when they’d died. She always pushed the memories aside. And she wasn’t about to relive them today.

  “He will be missed,” Ester said.

  “Yes, Ester, I’m sure he will.”

  “Like we miss Big Jim?”

  Carly scoffed. The saloon owner had tormented Ester until his dying day. She still thought well of him. “Yes, like we miss anyone we love.”

  Ester tilted her head and sighed. She often had difficulty understanding but this time Carly believed she knew exactly what Carly meant.

  * * * * *

  Jed didn’t stay for the substantial spread the ladies of Tucson laid on for the mourners’ supper. He had considerable work to do finding the culprits who’d killed Crowley.

  He didn’t have any luck finding a horse with a missing shoe. Mr. Trumbull had checked his horses and the blacksmith hadn’t any customers whose mount had thrown a shoe in m
onths. Neither man recognized the shoe Jed had found.

  As he oiled his shooter, he realized he didn’t have much else to go on. Kate had seen the pair but didn’t give much of a description. Cowhands and wranglers were in plenty of supply and these two could’ve come from anywhere.

  It occurred to Jed that the killers could be part of Vernon Crosby’s outfit. The gang boss could be running a gun-for-hire operation. Time he paid a call on the Purdy clan.

  The door opened and in walked Travis, his duster showing a good amount of dirt.

  “Glad you’re in, Sheriff.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I wondered if you had any more information about those men who robbed the stage.” He pulled over the second chair with his boot and sat.

  “Can’t say I’ve made any progress.”

  Travis huffed. He’d a fair amount of interest in the robberies, Jed decided, more than the average man. He’d been the first person to offer help and now Jed wondered why.

  “Have you had a talk with those girls over at the Lonesome? Just about every wrangler and freight man finds himself at the saloon. Maybe they heard something?”

  Jed thought asking the dollies a good idea. He’d been too distracted by Carly’s extensive charms when he was at the saloon to bring up the subject.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “What do you say we head over to the hotel for some grub?”

  Jed finished with the gun oil and wiped his hands on a scrap of feed sack. “Naw, I’ve got some work to do.”

  Travis stood. “You’ll let me know if you find anything?”

  “What’s your stake in this?”

  “Guess there’s no harm in telling you,” he said. “I’m a bounty hunter. Those men have a sizeable reward on their heads.”

  Jed didn’t much like bounty hunters but he’d make an exception in Travis’ case.

  “Those men are ornery. You won’t be able to take them on without help.”

  “I reckon so.” Jed chuckled. “Two of us would make it just about a fair fight.”

  “Sound about right to me.” Travis said goodbye and left.

  Before he left town for the Purdy spread, Jed heeded Travis’ advice. He wanted to see Carly and ask her if she’d had any big spenders at the saloon.

  There wasn’t a time in the last couple of days when he hadn’t been reminded about how much he missed her.

  “Sheriff?”

  Jed looked behind him. The Crowley foreman hurried down the boardwalk.

  Jed scowled. “What do you want?”

  He stuck out his hand. “Hope you don’t hold what happened at the Crowley place against me. Just that I’m protective of those girls. I don’t want to see any harm come to them.”

  Jed had been plenty sore at the man for what he’d said to Carly. He sure felt bad about how she’d been treated. He was sure she’d put the incident behind her. She wasn’t the type to dwell on what couldn’t be changed.

  “That’s admirable.” Jed shook his hand. He didn’t know whether to believe him.

  “I’ve thought of something, something important.”

  Jed frowned. If it was so important, why had he waited to tell anybody?

  “I was in the Lonesome last week, in fact the day you arrived in Tucson. There were two ne’er-do-wells asking where the Crowley place was.”

  Jed didn’t like what he was hearing.

  “Didn’t think much of it at the time. Strangers were always asking old man Crowley for work.”

  “Do you remember what the men looked like?”

  Mack scratched his beard. “For the life of me, I can’t recall. Two cowpokes the same as all the rest.”

  “Did they say where they were from?”

  “Said they’d been in Nogales.”

  Jed would bet his bottom dollar they worked for Vernon Crosby.

  “If you think of anything more,” Jed said. “You know where to find me.”

  “Yes sir. I’ll be sure to do that.” He backed away. “I gotta be going. I drove those girls into town. They’ll be wanting to return home before dark.”

  Jed watched him retreat. He didn’t like the man. Could he trust him?

  He believed the men who’d killed Crowley had spent time in the saloon. It didn’t mean Carly knew about them being there. He was pretty sure she would’ve told him. Heck, with all strangers passing through, a couple of cowpokes wouldn’t have stood out. Even still, he needed to ask her what she remembered, if anything, of them.

  He reached the batwing doors of the saloon. The place was crowded. Nothing like a funeral to bring men in for a whiskey and a poke. He hesitated before pushing his way inside. He needed to be careful. He didn’t want Carly to think he was accusing her of anything.

  But what if she was involved with Crosby and his men?

  The notion twisted in his gut.

  That got him thinking about her ride out to the Crowley ranch the day of the murder. He’d thought it was a neighborly thing to do but he could be wrong. Had she come all that way to deliver a basket of food and give her condolences or had there been another reason?

  He couldn’t set his doubts aside. She could even be Crosby’s woman. His blood ran cold at the thought.

  Jed stepped back from the door. If she was, he’d been played for a fool. Her lovemaking and sweet talk had a sinister purpose. The gang had brought death and destruction to their town. They had to be stopped. He hoped she wasn’t part of this.

  He pushed through those doors, determined to get some answers. Town folk stood at the bar talking.

  Alvin was pouring whiskey. “Howdy Sheriff. Haven’t seen you in the Lonesome for a while.”

  “Miss Carly here?”

  “Yes sir, the girls are upstairs.”

  “Buy you a drink?” the Mayor asked. “You look like you could use one.”

  “Not just now,” Jed replied. He was itching to hear what Carly had to say.

  He shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Chapter Nine

  Carly stripped off her gown and chemise, standing naked except for her stockings and garters. She had a full house downstairs but she dreaded going down. Her customers would expect a good time. Putting on a smile just wasn’t in her tonight. She kept thinking about those two Crowley girls in their black dresses. What was going to happen to them?

  Much as she tried to forget about the murder, she couldn’t. Jed might even consider her an accomplice.

  She picked up the red and black velvet corset. Each one of the new corsets laced up in the back but hooked up the front. That way all the dollies could easily dress and undress themselves.

  The special-order corset needed to be paraded around and she was the gal to do it.

  Wrapping the corset around her, she sucked in a breath and pulled the boned fabric together in the front, clasping the first hook in the middle. The laces could be a smidge tighter, making her breasts appear fuller, but she’d have to be happy with the way they were.

  She finished up the rest of the hooks, adjusting her breasts so they spilled just the right amount out of the top, giving a man what he came for.

  The long mirror at the end of the hallway didn’t lie. The new corset gave her body the shape she desired. And showed off her creamy flesh in all the right places. The black lace had been sewn to reveal a woman’s secret places.

  Between her thighs, her naked curls were obvious. Customers loved to see her dressed in just a corset, black stockings and frilly garters. Loved that they could fuck her while she sported it.

  She loved nothing more than to be fucked while she wore naught but a corset too. There was something so sensual about the satiny fabric against the skin.

  She struck a pose—her hip jutted to the side, her hand behind her head—and offered the mirror a practiced expression.

  Footsteps interrupted her. She whirled around and saw the man she’d been dreaming about pleasuring from the moment she woke up.

  “What the—” Je
d’s mouth fell open, his words cut short as he gaped at her. His eyes turned from dusky gray to black, burning coals as his gaze devoured her.

  She advanced slowly toward him so he could get a good look at her. “Why Jed Poole, I’m surprised to see you.”

  His throat bobbed when he swallowed. He glanced from her face to her breasts to her cunny, up to her thighs and then back up again. Like a little jig. She laughed.

  “Well? What do you think?” She turned around slowly, seductively, showing him her naked buttocks with the V of the back of the corset resting at the top of the crack of her ass. Almost like an arrow.

  “I… I…” He cleared his throat.

  She enjoyed his discomfort. The tease was her art. “Speak up. Don’t you like my new corset? I put it on with you in mind.”

  “Yes.” He stepped forward and she strutted past him.

  “Just yes?” Glory be, she loved to toy with him. When she reached the doorway of her room, she placed her hands at her waist and stood with legs spread apart. There was an invite no man could ignore.

  She would pleasure him until he was robbed of his senses, until he begged her to stop.

  He followed her inside and tossed his hat on the bed. “I like it. You know I do.”

  “How much do you like it?” she asked in a husky voice.

  Jed’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “I like it a lot, Carly. Want me to show you how much?”

  She smiled—aroused like the wanton woman she was. “I surely would. But it will cost you, Sheriff.”

  His eyes narrowed a bit and he swaggered closer, close enough to touch her. “What’s the price?” He traced a finger along the rim of the black lace at her breasts. There was no mistaking what he was after.

  She licked her lips, ready to do anything he wanted. “I’m not asking you for money.”

  “Good ‘cause I don’t have much.”

  Wasn’t that a sorry state of affairs, she mused. Of all the men she could’ve fallen for, she picked a poor lawman.

  “What do you want, Carly?”

  “What you and you alone can give.” She walked over to her bed.

  He kicked the door shut. “That’s no problem.”