by Reece Butler
“What’s your proof?” asked Keene, eyeing Hames with distaste.
“A woman volunteered to pose as someone Mr. Isaac would discipline. He came running out of the kitchen just now wearing this mask, injured. We pulled his mask off in front of all these witnesses. The evidence that he tried to attack the woman is on his face.”
“Was that Queenie?”
“Where is she?”
“Yeah, where’s Queenie? Did he kill her?”
Ross relieved Luke of his knife. He placed it under Hames’s neck.
“How is the lady?” he asked with quiet deadliness. “Lie and you’ll regret it.” He yanked the handkerchief free.
“You can only kill me once.” Hames’s voice was high and sharp, his words blurred.
Ross gave him an enigmatic look. He dropped the knife blade, resting it between Hames’s legs. “True, but I can make it last a long”—he pressed up, making Hames wince—“long”—Hames’s eyes bulged—“time.”
“Josh went after her,” said Sam. “He would have called for help if she was hurt. He’ll bring her in when she’s calmed down.”
Sam had a good idea there’d be a fair bit of getting excited before any calm would come to Sophie or Josh. He’d seen the fire in Josh’s eyes at the thought of Sophie being hurt. Likely his were the same. While he wished to be the one soothing Sophie, Josh had made it clear she belonged to him first.
“There she is!”
“Queenie! Tell us what happened!”
Sam saw Josh first. It took a moment to recognize him as he’d taken a knife to his long beard and hair. It looked like a hatchet job. The man would need a barber for sure. Then his eyes dropped to Sophie. She wore the flame dress again, her head high. At first she looked pale, but Sam looked closer. He smirked. There was a glint in her eyes that he recognized. He looked at Josh. The same glint answered his question.
She saw who Ross and Jed held between them.
“Buford Hames?” Her face screwed up. Josh held her from attacking. “You, you—!”
“Mrs. McLeod is upset,” said Josh, calmly holding Sophie. “I’m going to bring her somewhere safe so she can rest after her ordeal.”
Sophie turned to disagree, frowning up at him. A slight eyebrow flick from Josh and she pressed her lips closed. Sam held back a grin. Sophie might be upset, but the ordeal she’d undergone was nothing to what was coming up. All three of them wanted to make sure she was safe. That meant inspecting every single inch of her skin. Inside and out. His cock rose at the challenge ahead.
“Did you do this?” asked Sheriff Keene.
Sophie fought to get loose, but Josh kept one arm around her waist.
“You going to lock me up if I say yes?” she demanded.
“I was thinking more of a reward, ma’am. What did you use?”
“Mrs. McLeod grabbed the handle of a red-hot poker to protect herself,” said Josh before Sophie could answer. “He also had this in the fire.” Josh handed a short rod to the sheriff, who turned it over to look at the end.
“This looks like the brand Mr. Isaac uses.” He raised an eyebrow. “Clever. The letter could be either an I for Isaac, or an H for Hames.” His face screwed up in disgust. “Anyone willing to testify that Isaac used this brand on them?”
“Me,” said Tess. She pushed herself forward. She pointed to the red scar down her face with a trembling finger. She was careful not to look at Hames. “He did this with a knife.” She pointed to the brand the sheriff held. “And he burned that mark all over me.” Her voice shook, as did her body, but she kept going.
“I saw him come in tonight. He went down the cellar where Abby told me to take Queenie and drug her. But I gave her plain tea. I showed her where I put a knife, and I put that poker in the fire. Queenie was waiting for him, pretending to be drugged. I waited near the kitchen, hoping she’d do something to him. It was quiet, then all of a sudden he run upstairs, screaming.” The scar puckered when Tess smiled. “Queenie got him good with that poker.”
“What did he wear when he came in?” asked Keene.
“He was dressed all in black, like an old woman.”
“An old woman?” Willy shoved his way through the crowd. “Sheriff, I followed Hames from the Golden Nugget to his rooming house. He didn’t come out so I waited a while. I gave up and followed an old woman back here. Damn! I knew I’d seen that walk before. If I’d stopped him, he wouldn’t have hurt Sophie. I should have—”
“You did right, son,” interrupted Trace. He put his hand on Willy’s shoulder and squeezed. “We might not have caught the bastard if you stopped him. You did a good job.”
“I expect sworn statements from every one of you in the morning,” said Keene. He looked around the room as if memorizing every face.
“If you’ll escort the prisoner, I’ll brief the sheriff,” said Max.
Sam snickered at his twin’s glower. Max knew what Josh and Sophie would be doing. But as a by-the-book agent he had to follow his own rules. That meant work before pleasure, every time. Sam would do a pile of work while Josh soothed Sophie, or whatever his younger brother wanted to call what they’d be doing. But Sam would have his turn to hold her before morning.
“I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to my younger brother. He’ll be helping me this evening. Won’t you, Sam?”
The last three words were growled in challenge. Josh winked, knowing he’d have Sophie to himself for a while. He whispered something to her and patted her bottom. A tinge of pink bloomed on her cheeks. Sam had a dang good idea her other cheeks would soon be the same color. That was fine with him. He’d kiss them better when he got there.
“Would you look at that, there’s two of ’em!”
“Take care of her,” said Sam to Josh. He dropped a kiss on Sophie’s cheek, uncaring of the gasps and snickers.
A scream of rage erupted from behind them. Tess and another woman hauled Abby, kicking and fighting, from a back room. A very pale Ruby followed. She looked around her saloon and pressed her hand over her heart.
“Who’s going to pay for this?” she demanded.
“Buford Hames, to start,” said Ben. He bowed. “My name is Benjamin Elliot, ma’am. I’m a lawyer. From my training and experience I believe there’s enough evidence against Mr. Buford Hames to confiscate his belongings.” He looked around as if mentally counting up the damage. “Though I’m not sure he has anything worth selling that will pay for all this.”
“I’ll give you a plugged nickel for that green-and-black suit of his,” said a wheezing old man. A few chuckles broke out. No one wanted the suit, and a plugged nickel wasn’t worth even a penny.
“Sold to the gentleman with excellent taste in clothing,” said Ben. Awkward laughter broke out here and there. “Anything else?”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to buy that type-writing machine,” said Willy Wright. His face looked red but determined.
“You’re welcome to it,” said Ben.
“You thinking of sending my daughter some letters, boy?” asked Trace with more than a touch of belligerence. His crow-like voice rasped. The glare he added made it even more of a dare for the young man to answer.
Willy drew himself up tall. He was skinny from going without food for much of his life. But he was strong, his muscles more like sinews.
“Yes, sir, I am. Do I have yer permission?”
Trace kept the glare for a few seconds more. Then he gave a brisk nod.
“Letters are fine. Be good for the two of you to get to know each other. Instead of talking all you’ve been doing is stealing kisses. That last time in the barn went on a mite too long.”
“You saw?” Willy’s voice cracked. His ears looked as red as the light outside a bordello.
“Nope. And you’re lucky I didn’t.” Trace narrowed his eyes at Willy. “Turns out Beth’s been keeping an eye on the two of you. When she told me about that kiss, I was ready to tan your hide and make a lamp out of it.”
Willy’s face was white, but
he held his head high as if waiting execution for refusing to give in to the enemy.
“Know why I didn’t, boy?”
Willy shook his head rather than answer and have his voice crack again.
“Because Beth said Meggie was the one grabbing your shirt and hauling you to her.” Trace snorted. “Why do you think Beth told me to bring you on this trip?”
The tension in Willy’s face and body eased. “To keep me from Meggie?” He twisted his hat, looking miserable, but accepting of whatever punishment Trace would dish out.
“I said my girls can’t marry until they’re eighteen,” said Trace, avoiding Willy’s question. “Do you know when Meggie’s birthday is?”
Willy shook his head. “No, sir. Guess that’s one of them things we shoulda been talkin’ about. How long do I gotta wait before I can ask her to be my wife?”
The boy had guts. He was not backing down from telling Trace what he wanted. He also didn’t ask Trace’s permission to court Meggie.
“Beth said you’d best buy a wedding ring while you’re here. There’s a long, cold winter on the way and you’ll need that ring before Christmas.”
Willy’s delighted whoops were followed by back-pounding congratulations from the other ranchers. Sam had been part of the research on the boy and his sister. They’d had one hell of a life and came out of it as good people. If Trace Elliott thought Willy was the man for Meggie, his age didn’t matter. The boy was determined enough to steal her away, though he’d not do that to the man who’d taken him in like the father he’d never had. Trace was smart to get it in the open. Now everyone would be watching the two lovebirds. Meggie would be a blushing virgin on her wedding night. He’d have a word with Willy to make sure the young man knew how to please his new wife.
“Abby!” called Josh. “Where’d you put that bag of gold dust?”
“Where you won’t find it,” Abby snarled. She gasped when Tess smirked and handed a drawstring bag to Ruby. “I know where Abby hides her things,” said Tess to Ruby. “I switched the gold dust with sand.”
Two men grabbed Abby’s arms when she tried to run. Ruby opened the bag and stuck her finger in. It glistened when she pulled it out. She gave a curt nod.
“This’ll pay for the damage,” said Ruby. She motioned at the men holding Abby. “Throw her out on the street.”
“I’ll freeze!” cried Abby.
“I’ll take her,” said a big bruiser of a man. “I got me a room with a bed.” He gave Abby the once-over. “I’ll keep ye from gettin’ cold.”
Abby looked at the hostile faces. She stuck her nose in the air and stomped out, followed by the man who’d claimed her. He had his arm around her before they got to the door. Sam figured it was so she couldn’t run, rather than to protect her.
“Time to haul this piece of garbage to jail,” said the sheriff.
Rather than push through the crowds and maybe find his prisoner with a knife in his ribs, they went forward, through the kitchen. Sam knew he had to follow, but not yet. He needed Sophie. He glared at Josh until he was allowed close enough to hug her.
“I’ll be seeing you later, sugar,” he murmured. He couldn’t put his hands on her in public so he leaned close and brushed his chest against her soft breasts. “Dang, you feel good.” Josh growled a warning so he gave her a polite peck on the cheek and a wink. “Don’t wait up for me. I won’t mind sliding into a warm bed when I get through with all this.”
Sam watched Josh escort Sophie into the kitchen. She was already explaining things to Sheriff Keene. Now that Sam knew she would be theirs, he could wait. He sure as heck didn’t want to, but Josh needed to sooth her as much as she needed his brother.
Sin caught Sam’s eye. He waited for the parade to leave before easing over. Jed Adams was with him.
“I ducked out when Trace and Ross caught Isaac, or Hames,” said Jed. “Baird was waiting at the Golden Nugget. He sent his men after Smythe. They hauled him out the back door. Don’t know where. I thanked Baird for waiting.”
“All we have to do now is make sure no one kills Mr. Buford Hames before we can haul him East,” said Sam. He gave a speaking glance to the men from Tanner’s Ford. “Make sure every one of you has witnesses to prove you didn’t kill the bastard.”
Chapter 37
Sophie let Josh carry her away. It wasn’t as if she could have done anything about it. She hadn’t known him long, but when he got that determined look, there was nothing going to stop him. Not that she wanted to. He was big, strong, and insisted on protecting her. Once he had a shave and haircut, she expected he might be rather handsome, as well.
She relaxed against him, laying her head against his shoulder. He’d wrapped her in a coat Tess found to keep her warm. The heat that blossomed on her inside would have kept her warm, but she was pleased he wanted to pamper her.
He looked down, saw she watched him, and winked. A burst of arousal blossomed. Soon she’d have Josh to herself, in a quiet room. She’d be able to finally let her fears loose. Josh would listen, let her cry, and then he’d take her mind off the past by making her concentrate on the present. When she was with him, whatever he said was right. She had no choice but to do it. And to thoroughly enjoy it.
In many ways he already knew her better than she did herself. That was one of the reasons that, though they hadn’t known each other long, she’d agreed to marry him, knowing his brothers were part of the deal.
“Here we are,” said Josh. He set her down in front of a two-story wood building. “Mrs. Potter’s husband was a Pinkerton agent killed in the line of duty. We make it a point of staying here. She not only takes care of us very well, she passes on everything she’s heard.”
“Everything?” Sophie’s nose came to about Josh’s breastbone. She had to tilt her head to see his face. “She’ll know we’re not married.” A horrid thought hit. Her heart sped up in dread rather than arousal. “You’re not leaving me here alone all night!”
Josh dropped his head. “Mrs. McLeod,” he murmured, “I have plans for you. Very specific plans. I’m not going to leave this building without you. Mrs. Potter can give me a shave and haircut while you eat something hot.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “It’ll take time for your bathwater to heat.”
“A hot bath?”
He nodded. A sly smile curved up one corner of his mouth. “Mr. Potter was built like me. He got himself a tub big enough for him to be comfortable.” His smile widened. “I think we’ll both fit in it just fine.”
He opened the door and escorted her inside before she could reply. Though it was cold outside, her cheeks, and other parts, were flushed with heat. Her heart hadn’t slowed any, but it was pounding in eagerness this time.
“Good evening, Mrs. Potter,” said Josh. “Did you get my message?”
A woman Lily Thatcher’s age sat by the fire. She nodded briskly, set down her mending, and rose. “Water’s almost ready. Supper’s on the stove. Sit down, Mrs. McLeod, and I’ll set it out.” She looked up at Josh and sighed heavily. “I see I’ll be needing to sharpen my tools when I’m done with you. Set yourself down in that chair and keep your stilts out of my way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sophie pressed her lips together so she didn’t snicker at Josh’s sheepish look. He removed her coat and seated her before he took his own seat and carefully tucked his long legs under the chair. The delicious aroma of fresh bread and beef stew made her realize how hungry she was.
“This smells wonderful!”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Potter. “Your man can have some when he looks decent enough to eat at my table.”
“My man?” Sophie’s shocked eyes met Josh’s laughing ones. “We’re not married.”
“I’ve got eyes, girl, and I’ve met these three scallywags before. My husband used to give me the same look Joshua Gibson is giving you. And we hadn’t said anything to a preacher yet, either.” She picked up her shears, walked behind Josh, and pushed his head forward so his chin hit his
chest. Chunks of brown hair began falling to the floor. She gave Sophie a big wink. “There’s a reason you’ve got the room farthest from mine. It also has the biggest bed. Now get that stew inside you, girl. You’ll need your energy tonight!”
Mrs. Potter gave Josh a stream of information while she snipped and Sophie ate. Josh responded with the information about Mr. Isaac being Buford Hames.
Sophie dozed in the padded chair by the fire while Josh was shaved. She felt safe and secure. She was warm and her belly was full. She drifted off. Sometime later warm arms lifted her from the chair. A soft cheek nuzzled her own. She floated across the room. She opened her eyes when Josh released her.
“I want you naked.”
She blinked, still half-asleep. Josh, freshly shaved and with his hair trimmed, was even more handsome than she’d imagined. She stared at the sight. He lowered his eyebrows, crossed his arms, and gave her That Look.
“Strip or I’ll rip that pretty dress right off you.”
She was instantly awake. He’d done it once already, and she didn’t doubt he’d do it again. Her fingers flew as she stripped everything off. He watched like a hunting cat expecting a rabbit to peel off its own fur to make an easier meal. When she was down to her shift, he began removing his own clothes. They ended at the same time.
Her nipples pointed toward him, just as his cock jutted toward her.
“I’m going to wash every inch of you,” he crooned. “And then I’m going to dry you, just as slowly. And then, Mrs. McLeod, I am taking you upstairs to bed.”
* * * *
Josh tucked the quilts around the woman who would soon be his wife. He’d hadn’t planned for her to fall asleep against his shoulder as soon as they laid down. But she’d been through a lot, and done it on little food or sleep. They’d have many years to make up for tonight. She sighed and snuggled closer. He lifted his head to kiss her shoulder. A ghost of a smile crossed her face.
This is what he wanted. Contentment. Peace. Love.
Always before he’d put off sleep to chase down witnesses, follow loose ends, and make the case as tight as possible. But all he wanted was this woman’s soft body lying on his. He listened to her breathing. One day they’d listen to their babies the same way, with wonder and joy.