A Cowboy's Fate

by Gini Rifkin

  Doubting a better opportunity would be coming along anytime soon, she felt obliged to accept the offer. “All right, Mr. Stokes, I’ll take you up on the arrangement. But I won’t need any money prior to my first payout.”

  At her declaration of solvency, he appeared somewhat disappointed. “You’re a clever girl to have a grubstake before setting out on your travels. I’ll have Snake Eyes bring your things up to your room.”

  She quailed at the name Snake Eyes. Since leaving St. Louis, she’d met a Slim, a Whiskey Jim, and a Cherokee Bill. Didn’t people out west believe in normal names? And what in heaven’s name was a grub-steak. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to eat one.

  As her new employer headed toward the inside stairway, she grabbed her carpetbag and followed.

  The room appeared suitable indeed, with tall windows giving it an airy look and a spacious feel. And the locks, on the hall door and the door to the outside stairs, appeared sturdy enough. Mr. Stokes took her hand and placed a key in it—his reluctance to let go unsettled her. She gave him her best imperious stare, and he smiled and released his grip.

  “This fits the door to the room, as well as the door to the backstairs,” he explained.

  “And there’s only the one key?”

  “Of course, Miss Rule—other than mine. If it worries you, I’ll give you that one too. Although I assure you, my keys never leave my sight.”

  “No. I trust you.”

  Well that was a big fat lie. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but somehow she felt as if a fox hid nearby eying the hen house, and she was one of the chickens. Still, she shouldn’t complain. What a remarkable beginning. She’d arrived in town only moments ago, and already she had a place to stay and a job. What more did she want—Cody James, that’s what.

  “If you will excuse me then.” She hoped Mr. Stokes would take the hint and leave. “I would appreciate a few moments to freshen up before you show me the books.”

  “Of course, my dear. How thoughtless of me. There’s no rush about the books. We can begin tomorrow morning. Use today to get acquainted with your surroundings. I’ll check upon you later.”

  He turned and walked away, and her shoulders slumped in relief. She hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding her body so stiffly, as if on guard. Almost to the door, he stopped short, his hand on the knob, his back to her.

  “Who was the fellow with you when you came into town?” His voice although low and soft, didn’t sound gentle or comforting.

  “Just a man I hired to guide me from Denver to Leadville.”

  “And his name.”

  “His name?”

  “Yes, Miss Rule, his name. You must know his name.”

  “Of course. It’s…Toby Ames.”

  The words popped out before she could stop them, and she wondered why. Mr. Stokes had hired her to keep his books, a job no doubt including access to some of his confidential information. Surely, he had a right to know a little about the company she kept. Yet as logical as that sounded, something prevented her from divulging Cody’s real name.

  With a snort and a shake of his head, he twisted the knob and left the room.

  Hurrying forward, she closed and locked the door, then turning around, she leaned back against the wood, her gaze sweeping the room. Alone and surrounded by silence, the chamber seemed cold and impersonal. Crossing over to the outside door, she made sure it too was locked. Then hauling her carpetbag onto the bed, she searched through the jumble, retrieving the two items Cody had given her. With the aid of a footstool, she tied the bundle of wild chamomile to one of the posts at the foot of her bed. The little cattail-fluff and duck-feather pillow found a home on a chair by the window.

  Trying to find comfort in these two items, she took a full calming breath. Then standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped under her chin, she wondered what in the world she had gotten herself into.

  ****

  “Toby Ames, my ass.”

  Jubel laughed and rubbed his hands together. That man was Cody James. He’d heard their entire conversation from the window in his office, heard Miss Rule calling out his name as she stood on the boardwalk and he rode away in that beleaguered wagon. Besides, he would have recognized his “old friend” anywhere. Why hadn’t she told the truth? Miss Rule seemed prone to fabrication, like the story she apparently told her escort about working here.

  What insanely good fortune having Cody show up here. Not for Cody of course. Guess the old saying held true, everyone out west passed through Leadville sooner or later. Regardless, the bastard would pay for what he’d done. And after taking care of Cody, once and for all, the conniving whore he’d hired would be next. Nobody lied to Jubel Stokes and got away with it.

  Chapter Ten

  Cody sold the wagon and horses then holed up in the worst boarding house in town. The self-inflicted punishment surely would be a remedy to shock him out of his fantasy about the woman with whom he had recently parted company. At least he hoped it would.

  Lying on the rickety bed, he took a pull on the cheroot, exhaled slowly, and watched the tip glow. His desire for Britania burned as bright. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Her soft skin, her silky hair, the way she smelled, the way she tasted. Hellfire, the recollection of her riding his body nearly drove him out of his mind. And when he’d awakened in Frisco to find her gone, he’d panicked, thinking something dreadful had happened to her, or she had cold-heartedly left him. The empty bed had felt as desolate as his lonely heart. Then when he’d found her calmly sitting in the lobby as if they hadn’t even spent the night together, he’d said things in haste he now regretted at leisure.

  Heck, what difference did it make? She deserved someone more refined than a midnight gambler. The only thing he had a lot of was nothing. No home, no money, no security. Although, with hardly any effort, he could imagine settling down and growing old here. Despite the increasing population, and heaps of brown mine-tailings, most of the area around Leadville remained clean and fresh and unspoiled. They could get a little place of their own. She could tell fortunes, and he could go back to gunsmithing. He’d worked at it before, had enjoyed it, had a knack for it. But those notions only sounded tempting when he pictured Britania at his side.

  With a grumble of complaint, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shouldn’t have made love to her. Then he could imagine it would be a terrible experience, rather than a mind-shattering one that left him satisfied, yet still craving her. He should have been stronger, resisting the allure of wanting more than he seemed destined to get out of life. Her darn cards said he’d find love here. He wished it could be with her.

  Maybe he could win big tonight—it would be a start. But she had a better chance at happiness without him, a better chance at snagging a bona fide gentleman and a comfortable life. His jaw clenched as he pictured Britania in someone else’s arms. Damn, he couldn’t let that happen. The fever in his blood raged stronger for her than it ever could for cards and dice. Nothing mattered except being with her.

  Unearthing clean clothes from his pack, he left the boarding house and headed up the street to a place he’d seen advertising a bath and a shave for two dollars. Regardless of what the future might hold, he needed to make some money tonight.

  ****

  By the time Cody had gotten his two dollars’ worth, night had fallen. Dressed in black from head to toe, he checked the load in his revolver, slid the gun into the holster slung low on his hips, and headed for the door. Reaching the street, he ambled down the boardwalk, and like a shadow belonging to the night, he made his way toward The Silver Moon.

  About a block from the gambling hall, he heard the raucous piano music and female laughter spilling out the open doors. The gaiety beckoned him on, promising the real moon if he so desired. And that’s just about what he would be shooting for tonight.

  Reaching the alleyway leading to the back of the building, he paused to check out the murky passageway. Then he studied the front
of the brick building, the last place he’d seen Britania. His gaze drifted upward, and as if conjured by his longing for her, he glimpsed her standing by an upstairs window as she stared up at the night sky.

  He stood stock still, but his heart beat faster, and the need she inspired made him as hot-blooded as a race horse. Guess it came as no surprise she decided to room as well as work here. Did she ever think about him now that she’d reached her destination? Only one way to find out. HHe took the outside stairs two at a time and knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Her voice sounded sharp, as if she were afraid.

  “It’s me, Cody.”

  A long moment of silence followed, and it tore at his soul. He shouldn’t have come, made to turn away. Then he heard the key in the lock.

  She opened the door a crack and peeked out, eyes wide as if in wonder or surprise. She wore only a corset and petticoat. Her unbound hair framed her face and shoulders, and the backlighting created a golden halo around her head. No angel had ever looked sweeter.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” he said.

  She flung the door open wide, and fell into his arms. “Oh, Cody, it’s all I’ve been hoping for since we parted this morning.”

  He walked her backward into the room, and kicked the door shut at his back.

  “I tried to stay away,” he admitted, between the kisses he rained on her cheek and neck.

  “No, you mustn’t ever stay away again.” She slipped her arms around his shoulders.

  “I don’t intend to,” he promised, “couldn’t if I tried.”

  Picking her up, he carried her toward the bed, noticing the duck-down pillow and bunch of chamomile. She had been thinking of him.

  “You still owe me for the price of the team and wagon,” she said, her voice much more calm now. Could the money be the most important thing on her mind? It set him to wondering—until she began slipping free the buttons on his shirt. “Rather than cash, Mr. James, I’d prefer compensation of another nature.”

  “Why Miss Rule, whatever did you have in mind?” He held her close against his chest—could she feel the wild beating of his heart?

  “Something like this,” she suggested, her breath soft against his neck as she glided one hand down his bare chest and inside the waistband of his pants. His body hardened as her fingers grazed the tip of the part of him now belonging to her.

  “You seem quite prepared to meet my demands of payment,” she observed, stroking him.

  He choked back a groan. “In full, with interest,” he assured.

  Loosening his hold, she slid down the front of his body and ended up sitting cross-legged on the bed, grinning up at him, her hair tumbled about her shoulders. When she stopped playing the highfalutin’ lady, he saw an innocence about her that touched him deeply. It made him want to trust her; it made him want to get back all the years he’d spent forgetting how to laugh and have fun.

  Shedding his coat, gun belt, shirt, boots and socks—all in record time—he stood beside the bed. Britania scrambled to her knees, and unbuttoned the fly on his pants, setting free not only his body, but visions of what he wanted to do to her. When she licked his chest and slid her hand along the length of him, he nearly lost it right then and there.

  Trying to keep it together, he kicked out of his jeans, urged her back onto the bed, and followed. Boldly skimming one hand upward along her thigh, he explored beneath her petticoat. She’d yet to put on her pantaloons, leaving nothing to block his intentions, unless she uttered a word of refusal.

  “Britania?”

  “Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” she panted, “because I’m not sure about anything except wanting you and needing you—as if my life depended on it.”

  Her words abolished the last of his concerns and restraint, and he captured her mouth with his, tongue gently exploring, his fingers seeking to please her in other ways. He could taste the wanting on her as she moaned softly, almost there, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over. He abandoned the warmth of her thighs, and instead trailed his fingers along the top of her corset. Hips writhing, she called him cruel for stopping the pleasure. Then she arched upward, the soft mounds of her breasts straining against the sheer fabric.

  Grabbing her wrists, one in each of his hands, he rolled her further onto her back. Holding her captive, he covered her body, nudged her thighs apart and took her in one thrust. To be deep inside of her, overruled further thoughts of playing nice or going slow. She gasped, but rose up to meet him, matching the animal lust and need that had brought him to her room and to her bed. Slamming and rocking into her, faster, harder, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and moans of delight collided with groans of pleasure. His body roared down the road to satisfaction, and as his heart and mind plunged over a cliff of no return, he realized he loved this woman with complete commitment.

  This time, he truly laid claim to her, and would challenge any man who dared to question she belonged to him. Out of control with desire, they shook the bed to near destruction. She cried out and bucked beneath him. Oh Lord, it had never felt this good, not anyplace with anyone. Jaw clenched, he lost himself to the moment. He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t imagine going on without her. Legs wrapped around his waist, she shuddered beneath him, her fingernails scratching his backside as she gave all and followed him to a glorious end.

  Still breathing hard, his pulse racing, he rolled sideways. She made a little mewing sound as he slipped free. Turning to face him, she cradled his face with her hands, eyes searching as if for an answer to the question hovering on her brow.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her lips to his, preventing him from talking. Then with a sigh, she snuggled closer, nestling her cheek on his chest. He held her as if his life depended on it, hanging on tight to the solitude and closeness, a sensation he never dreamed he would call his own.

  Drowsy and satiated, the thought of going downstairs to gamble sounded like a terrible plan. He’d much rather stay here, repeating what they’d just shared, over and over all night long. The four-poster bed inspired visions of several positions they’d yet to try, and as he toyed with the provocative ideas, his body quickly recovered, casting a vote for staying put. Then a knock on the bedroom door all but sent him straight up out of the bed.

  “Miss Rule, I’ve come to inquire how things are going. I thought to see you downstairs by now.”

  “Who’s that,” Cody whispered in her ear.

  “My new boss,” she whispered back, “Mr. Stokes.”

  Stokes? It couldn’t be. From a dark place in his brain, a surge of hate erupted, sending bloodlust boiling through his veins.

  The knock sounded again, and the doorknob jiggled.

  “I’ll be along momentarily,” Britania called. “I just had to try out the bed,” she added, reaching down to touch Cody where it counted. “It’s divine. I couldn’t bear to get up.”

  Cody grabbed her hand to keep her from driving him over the top again.

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you shortly then.” Footsteps echoed and faded away.

  “Is this Stoke fellow’s first name Jubel?” he asked, holding his breath.

  “Why, yes. But how did you know?”

  He growled, set her aside, and lurched off the bed, pulling on his pants and socks and jamming his feet into his boots. “We’ve met before.” He passed a hand across his eyes, trying to clear his mind, trying to waylay the turmoil setting his body to shaking and his heart to pounding—this time with desire for cold revenge rather than hot need.

  Britania scurried off the bed and stood before him, her cheeks flushed from their lovemaking, her hair a delightful tangle.

  “What is it, Cody. What’s the matter?”

  Innocent blue eyes waited for an answer. Nausea crept around his belly as he realized he’d delivered her into the hands of a monster. Thank God he’d taken a chance and come to see her tonight. He shrugged into his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. She had a r
ight to know everything. It might be the only way to keep her safe. Reaching for her, he urged her to sit at his side. Then he told her about Jubel Stokes.

  “Your new boss is the Devil’s henchman,” he began, “with no heart, no conscience, and no compassion. I once saw him shoot a barking dog because the mutt woke him up.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief, but before she could speak, he continued. “We met years ago when I lived in Montreal. Unaware of his disposition for evil, I partnered up with him, and we opened a gambling hall. One less profitable than The Silver Moon. Times were tough and making his fortune the hard way didn’t suit Jubel’s plans. Behind my back, he branched out into more profitable and dangerous activities, including gun running, and even arson and murder for hire. He also took advantage of the young women we employed in the gambling hall.”

  A shiver ran through her. He slid one arm across her shoulders, and she leaned into him. “I intended to turn Jubel in to the local constable, but the woman staying with me loved Jubel’s money more than she loved me. She told him my intentions, and one night soon after, he shot me in a back-alley and left me for dead.”

  Britania gasped and reached out with a trembling hand. “That’s the scar on your chest.” When he nodded, she tightened her fingers around a fistful of his shirt.

  “Jubel didn’t know I survived. I lay low, fighting to recover, all the while planning to foil one of his biggest schemes. He solicited Chinese girls from San Francisco, promising them the good life, and then selling them off as slaves. The authorities had gotten wind of his dirty dealings, but needed me as a witness to confirm their suspicions. Again someone tipped him off. And before he could be arrested, he ran—the law on his tail and all our money in his poke.

  “When I recovered completely, I tried to find him and the woman. He was long gone, and she had died, taken by pneumonia. We’d always talked about coming here to Colorado. I finally made it. Apparently Jubel beat me to it.”