Annabelle Weston

by Scandalous Woman

  “That’s a fact.” Mr. Finney and the other men murmured their agreement.

  Their attention turned to the man Jed had been with.

  Carly moved closer and saw with a jolt the guard was Sam. His skin had turned ashen. The light was gone in his eyes. He still clutched a rifle.

  The other women congregating on the boardwalk shrank back. Someone started bawling. Carly knew life wasn’t fair but she was still angry. Sam had been doing his duty. He would’ve made a fine sheriff.

  Jed’s eyes flashed with emotion that tugged at her heart. But as quickly as she saw it, it was gone.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  He glared at her—a look that needed no interpretation. “Go back to the saloon, Carly. You shouldn’t be here.”

  She refused to be dismissed so easily, and stayed rooted where she was.

  He found his remaining deputy in the crowd. “Jack, I’m leaving you to protect the townsfolk.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Any of you men care to join me?”

  Some kept their gazes on the ground. Others looked away.

  “All right, then. I’ll ride alone.”

  “There are too many of them,” Carly said.

  Jed ignored her and looked around, finally settling on Mr. Charles. “Send a telegram right away to Tombstone. We need the marshal back here and pronto.”

  His jaw ticked, revealing to Carly that the last thing he wanted to do was bring the marshal in on this. But he couldn’t take on the gang without help. The stagecoach had been robbed and two men killed. This gang was doing a lot more than just shooting up a town and breaking a plate glass window. They were hardened criminals bent on killing.

  “I’ll go find the wireless operator and have him open up his office.” Mr. Charles took off down the boardwalk.

  Jed found his deputy next. “When the marshal arrives, you tell him I’ve gone south.”

  “You reckon they’re headed for Mexico?” Deputy Finney had not taken his eyes off his friend.

  “Yes, son, I believe that’s where they’ll go.”

  Finney looked up and wiped at his nose. “You can count on me, Sheriff.”

  Jed clamped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “I want to help.” Carly spoke loud enough to command his attention, She had to show him that she was strong and capable—and not afraid. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” Jed turned from them all and started walking away.

  She ran to his side. “At least let me fill up some canteens for you.”

  His eyes met hers. “All right. I reckon that’d be a good idea.”

  Carly touched his cheek, the heat of his skin nearly scorching her.

  “I should’ve gone instead of sending Sam.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known the gang would be so brazen.” Her assurances didn’t remove the scowl. He looked down the street, to the distance he’d have to travel tonight.

  “Sam was proud to be your deputy,” she said. “We’re all glad you’re our sheriff.” She’d said enough. Jed would have to come to terms with his guilt. They all would.

  She rushed to Finney’s Mercantile. Mrs. Finney was waiting by the door, clutching a shawl around her shoulders.

  “They tell me Sam is gone.”

  Carly nodded. “Those stagecoach robbers shot him.”

  “How awful.”

  Carly knew now was not the time for grieving. “I need a canteen full of water and some jerky for the sheriff.”

  She followed Mrs. Finney inside the mercantile. The woman filled a canteen up with water from a barrel and wrapped some jerky in brown paper. She handed both to Carly.

  “Will this be enough?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and thank you.”

  Mrs. Finney smiled. There was warmth in her expression and maybe even acceptance.

  Carly returned in time to see Mr. Trumbull leading Shooter. Jed eased into the saddle as if he’d been born there. The gelding nickered as Jed shucked his rifle in the sheath.

  She couldn’t let Jed just leave without saying goodbye. Not with him heading into big trouble. The terrible impression came over her that she might never see him again.

  She pressed her hand to his thigh and glanced up at him through her lashes. The moon had risen and shone bright. The light twinkled off his sheriff’s badge.

  “Jed…”

  His hand closed over hers and a crooked grin curved on his lips. “I’ll be back. Don’t fret.”

  “What more can I do?”

  “Wear that red corset for me when I get back.”

  Carly smiled. “Deal.” She handed him the canteen and the pack of jerky, which he stowed in his pack. “You will be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  As she turned to head back toward the Lonesome to wait for his return, he gripped her shoulder. She spun around and looked up as he bent over the horse, his lips brushing hers. Her entire body sprang to life, every nerve jumping and reaching out for him. His tongue delved into her mouth to swirl over hers.

  Carly reached up frantically for his body, her fingers digging into his arms. This kiss was intense and seemed to mean so much more than just “be safe”. She refused to believe it meant anything more.

  * * * * *

  Jed had predicted a holdup but he hadn’t expected the gang to kill the driver and young Sam. He should’ve rode shotgun himself, as long as this rash of robberies lasted. Now a boy was dead and a mother grieving.

  He hadn’t gone far when a figure stepped out of the shadows. Jed’s hand went immediately to his Colt. He drew on the man but recognized him. It was Travis.

  “I’ll ride with you,” Travis said.

  Jed wondered about the bounty hunter. Would he get in the way when the gang was found? Maybe Jed was being too cautious.

  “I could use some help.” Jed returned his weapon to its holster. He’d nothing against Travis and no evidence he was anything more than doing a job that rid the territory of some of the worst offenders. Didn’t mean Jed wouldn’t keep a close eye on the fella. Best way to do that was to keep him at his side.

  “I won’t be a minute,” Travis said. “My horse is tied up behind the mercantile.”

  “I’ll wait right here.” Jed wasn’t fool enough to be lured into an ambush, if that was what Travis was after.

  True to his word, Travis returned mounted up and ready for a fight. He wore a six-shooter and carried a rifle in his pack.

  Jed was liking his odds against a gang of no-account thieves and murderers more than he had a few moments before.

  “Let’s ride,” he said.

  * * * * *

  By the time Carly arrived at the Lonesome, the girls were waiting. A few customers had wandered back for a drink and Alvin obliged. No one seemed interested in dancing anymore.

  “We heard one of the deputies was shot,” Judith said.

  “That’s right. The bullet was fatal.” Carly’s heart constricted. Sam had been such a sweetheart.

  Gladys gasped. “The gang killed him?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’ll we do now?”

  Judith shrugged.

  Blanche bit her lip. “What if they come back?”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Sheriff Poole has gone after them.” Carly tried to sound reassuring even though Jed was outnumbered.

  She couldn’t forget Sam’s quiet face and all the blood spilling out of him. Would Jed meet the same fate?

  “I’ll be in my room.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  The others turned away. The chatter was subdued. Carly couldn’t escape to her room, not yet. She dragged a match across the bar and lit a lamp.

  She exited by the back door. A string of oaths came from the shed. Plumes of white smoke rose from the chimney pot. She tried the door but it was locked.

  “Dr. Baxter, it’s Carly. I need to speak with you.”

  The chain rattled and the door opened a crac
k. Satisfied she was alone, the doctor opened the door wide enough for her to come inside. A fire crackled in the grate. The air was foul from the liquid boiling in a copper pot. She covered her nose with her handkerchief but the stench was too strong to blot out with a mere hanky.

  The apparatus for making the elixir was a wonder. A coiled tube ran from the pot into a tub of water. From there it coiled some more until it dripped liquid into a bottle. Crates of filled bottles were stacked against the wall. Baskets of corncobs littered the floor.

  “I knew you’d be around for a taste.” Dr. Baxter spoke with glee.

  Carly shook her head, recoiling at the idea of ever touching the stuff again. She hadn’t realized how much it had ruled her life. How nearly every decision she made hinged on her next sip, and how instead of dealing with her own problems, she’d drowned them out in an opiate state of mind. “I already told you. I’m done drinking the stuff.”

  “Is that a fact?” His smile was one-sided. “The elixir will cure what ails you.”

  “You know it doesn’t.”

  Baxter shrugged. “I’ve plenty of hardworking folk who welcome a drink of Dr. Baxter’s after a long day.”

  Carly scoffed. The man could talk a possum out of a tree.

  He snatched up a brown bottle with a cork stopper. “My secret ingredient.”

  She’d known the brew was mostly moonshine. What else the man added to his elixir had always been a mystery.

  He kissed the bottle with his thick lips. Whatever the substance was, it was strong enough to erase her memory. She’d grown a terrible fondness for it, depended on its effects to get her through a night.

  But no more. She stared at the wily man. Jed had been right, of course. The bastard was up to no good and she couldn’t keep him hidden for much longer.

  “When will you be through?”

  “All in good time, my dear.” He set the bottle down as gentle as a basket of kittens.

  “When I agreed to let you make your brew here, we agreed you could run your still for two days.” She was plenty annoyed and didn’t see a need to mince words. “It’s been almost a week.”

  “I’ve had some complications. Some of the corn had mold.” He screwed up his face. “Can’t make my elixir with inferior products.”

  Carly didn’t care what he made his medicine from, she wanted him out of here. “You have to be out of here by tonight. I’ve been able to keep the sheriff away so far but I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his distance much longer.”

  Dr. Baxter didn’t appear in too much of a hurry to accommodate her wishes. “I’ll see what I can do.” Nor did he seem worried. His mistake.

  “You have plenty to sell.” She pointed to the crates.

  “I just need a little bit more.”

  She played her trump card. “You’d better load up your wagon. When Sheriff Poole gets back from Nogales, this will be his first stop. He’ll be sure to find out you’re here. And then he’ll destroy this batch and toss you in jail—even if you threaten him with the marshal. You know he doesn’t care two figs about this stuff being legal.”

  He scratched his straggly beard. The firelight reflected in his eyes, giving him a demonic air. She’d no doubt she’d made a pact with the devil.

  “Perhaps I should reconsider.” He studied the room.

  “I wouldn’t dawdle, Doc. You know how mean Sheriff Poole can get.”

  He snarled in defeat. “Let me finish with this batch and I’ll be gone.”

  He was not a man of his word but she left anyway, happy to be out of there. The sickening sweet smell had made her stomach roil.

  Hopefully he would be gone before Jed returned.

  As Carly climbed the stairs to her room, she worried about Jed chasing after the Crosby gang. She hoped he wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. Mostly she hoped he would be back soon.

  How could she have been such a fool? She couldn’t imagine the town without him as sheriff. She couldn’t imagine her life without him.

  His kiss tonight hadn’t been a kiss goodbye but a promise of more to come.

  The door to her crib was left open. She entered and was startled by a stranger stretched out on her bed.

  She frowned. She didn’t like customers wearing their boots on her silk counterpane.

  “Excuse me but I’m done working tonight.”

  The man sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “Are you the Buchanan woman?”

  Carly raised a brow. “Have we met?”

  “No, but we’re about to become acquainted. You can call me Vernon.”

  A wave of apprehension coursed through her. She pressed her knees together to keep herself steady. How the hell had the leader of the Crosby gang gotten into her room, and how the hell was she going to get him out?

  Best she pretend she didn’t recognize the name. If she acted like he was just another randy cowpoke, she could deal with him more easily.

  She raised the lamp, trying to get a better look at him. His thinning hair barely covered the top of his head. His skin was weathered and pockmarked. His stubble didn’t hide a scar that ran from his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

  “Like I said, Vernon, I’m not available.” She cast him the best smile she could muster under the circumstances. “Why don’t you pick another one of the dollies?”

  The man shook his head. “We got some business to settle, you and me.”

  Her blood ran cold. She inched away from the bed and leaned against the wall by the door, trying not to show her fear. “What kind of business?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” He watched her like a predatory animal.

  She was sure he meant to kill her. She had to get out of there. “If it’s all the same, I’m going back downstairs.”

  Vernon stood, stepped forward a foot, a fair amount of distance still between them. But just that slight move made her tremble. When he spoke his voice was soft, menacing. “You aren’t being very friendly. My boys told me you were quite a piece.”

  She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to answer in a steady voice. “I appreciate they were satisfied but I’m all worn through tonight. Could you come back tomorrow?”

  Another step closer. He showed her his shooter, cold steel. The initials V.C. were carved in the grip. “Maybe this will change your mind?”

  Carly had years of experience with this kind of man. She could deal with him. She had to. “Vernon, you are new to the saloon so I’ll make allowances, but we don’t like our customers to bring their weapons into the rooms.”

  He rubbed the barrel and laughed a creepy heh, heh, heh.

  The sound made her blood freeze.

  She had to get that shooter away from him. “Have it your way. I figure you’re the kind of man who likes to watch.”

  Again the heh, heh, heh. The laugh reminded her of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  She leaned over and unbuttoned her shoes and tossed them aside. She placed her foot on the edge of the bed and drew up her skirt. Vernon panted as he stood over her. She didn’t miss the bulge in his britches or the gleam of lust in his beady eyes.

  Carly unhooked her stocking from her garter. She prayed she could seduce him enough that he wouldn’t notice when she reached for his weapon. If that didn’t work, there was always her four-barrel underneath the mattress. He followed her every move. He believed she was helpless and submissive. He thought he was in charge.

  She rolled down her stocking and flung it at him, hitting him in the chin. “Whoops,” she said and stepped toward him, reaching for it.

  Vernon grabbed her wrist. She gazed at him with a lusty smile and brought his hand to her bosom. He pinched her nipple hard. Carly kept the revulsion from her features even though nausea twisted painfully in her gut.

  Her hand slid up his leg to his holster. She caressed the leather.

  He pushed her away. “Go on. Finish getting undressed. We’ve got all night.”

  Carly cursed. He wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
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  “I could use a drink,” she said, curling her tongue around her lips.

  He pointed his weapon at her. “Don’t you try anything.”

  She lolled her head to the side. He wasn’t falling for her games. He had more plans in mind than bed play. Fear filled her. “Whatever you say, cowpoke.”

  He leaned out the open door and looked both ways.

  “Hey, you, come here.”

  Ester appeared in the doorway. When she saw Carly, her eyes widened.

  “Bring us a bottle of your best whiskey.” Vernon pointed his shooter at her. “None of that watered down stuff.”

  Ester nearly jumped out of her skin. He pushed the Colt into her neck.

  “Leave her alone,” Carly said, an edge to her voice.

  He shoved his gun an inch from her nose. “Just do as I say and nobody’ll get hurt.”

  Ester got away, much to Carly’s relief.

  “Sit down on the bed and spread your legs. Let this old cowhand see your wares.” He shoved her against the bed and Carly’s knees buckled.

  He inched her skirts up, using the barrel of the gun.

  Carly kept watching him, even though she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and wish herself away. She caught sight of Ester carrying a cast-iron skillet in both hands. The girl entered the room on tiptoes. Vernon looked over his shoulder but before he could turn around, Ester raised the pan and it came crashing down on the back of his head with a loud clang.

  Carly’s mouth opened wide in surprise.

  Vernon Crosby pitched forward. Carly’s first reaction was shock as she moved out of the way. His head hit the bedpost with a crack before he fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” Ester said. She kicked the man in the ribs. Carly didn’t try to restrain her.

  Vernon didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle.

  “Do you think he’s dead?” Ester’s voice trembled.

  Carly scrambled from the bed, pleased as punch at what Ester had done. She ran to her side and put her arms around the simple woman. “No, honey, but he’ll have a bump the size of a dragon’s egg when he comes to.”

  Ester giggled. “Then I did all right?”

  Carly smiled like an approving mother hen. “You did just fine.”

  “Should we tie him up like we done the others?”