Cinch Your Saddle (The Widow Wagon Book 3)

by Megan Michaels

  They trudged up the stairs, the steps wooden and dusty. Minnie couldn’t help but wonder when someone had last cleaned. A long runner, burgundy with a white swirled pattern, led down a hallway, dark wooden doors to the left and right. Silas handed the men their keys when they got to the top of the stairs, then looked for the room he and Minnie would occupy.

  “Wait a dang minute!” Kane had his hands on his hips, glaring at both Minnie and Silas. “Are you getting to fuck her tonight? I thought I’d get a chance at her.”

  Red hit him in the shoulder. “Silas already has a shine to her, so I said he could he could have her. I had Annie. The next bitch we pick up will be yours. I promise. Let Silas have her. She’s too uppity for you anyway. Look at her.”

  Both Red and Kane sized her up, their gazes traveling up from her toes to the top of her head and back again. She opened her mouth to tell the dirty, filthy varmints off, but Silas dug his nails into the inside of her wrist hard enough that she swallowed her words — and her outrage.

  “Yeah, she’s probably as cold as a fish in bed.” Red elbowed Kane, his laughter loud and harsh. “Let Silas try to warm that up.”

  “Put your shit in your room,” Red said. “Let’s go to the saloon and find us a woman who knows how to make a man happy.”

  * * *

  After sitting in a chair, she silently watched Silas gracefully move around, putting the contents of his bag into the dresser, the man taking a minute to wash his face, then comb his hair. They only had one bed, and two chairs seated around a small table. She looked around, finding no cot or anything else that could even be considered as an alternate place to sleep. The bed had a clean, handmade quilt on top, with blue and red patterned hearts. The curtains were dark blue velvet; when closed, the guests would be able to sleep undisturbed by the daylight outside the window. There was a privacy screen in one corner, a pitcher and washbasin on a stand with an attached mirror.

  But there was only one bed.

  How would they sleep tonight? He’d said he’d ‘fuck her’ and the others had said he’d taken a ‘shine’ to her.

  Yes, she’d decided she was marrying a man she’d never seen before in Idaho, and she’d been married before — but that certainly didn’t mean she would cotton to being violated. Things like that ruined women for life. She looked him over as he moved about the room. He wasn’t as vile as Red and Kane. He definitely cleaned up better. His teeth were clean, and unlike his partners, he still had all of them. His clothes, although dirty from the trail, didn’t reek of body odor. He kept his long hair tied at the base of his neck, and it looked clean. When he washed his face, he’d untied the leather strip from the dark locks, combing it out. Long, brown waves, blessed with a little curl, hung down to his shoulders. His beard wasn’t scraggily like Red’s, but instead had been neatly trimmed. He didn’t seem to chew either, as his facial hair wasn’t filthy with the disgusting juice. Yet another way he differed from his companions.

  But no matter how he looked or how he had acted, he’d kidnapped her. She needed to make her escape before nightfall, or she’d be forced to sleep with him, letting him fuck her like a dirty whore in the saloon. She’d never find a husband again if it ever got out that she’d been defiled in

  Wyoming.

  The other two were downstairs right now, no doubt trying to find a saloon gal to sleep with. Silas didn’t seem like them in that regard either. She wondered how he’d come to know them. Had he killed many men? Or violated women? Did he take a woman’s virginity against her will? He was larger than most men, and she had no doubt that he’d be able to subdue a woman easily, holding her to a bed against her will. But was he capable of such callousness? Even if he violated her, would he still hold her afterward? Would he wipe away her tears, or would he just throw on his clothes and leave her to deal with the physical and emotional pain left in his wake?

  “You okay, sweetheart?” He sat down in the other chair at the table next to her, and he didn’t seem to be making fun of her either. He appeared genuinely concerned that she might not be okay.

  How silly is that?

  He’d kidnapped her, beaten her bottom raw with his belt, and was talking openly about fucking her, and yet he wanted to know if she was okay?

  “No. I’m scared and... I guess I’m hungry too.”

  “I bet you are scared. I don’t blame you there. Thank you for being honest. I’m sure that wasn’t easy to admit. And after the spanking I gave you, you must be sore and frightened of me. Am I right?

  She hesitated. She really didn’t want to talk about the fact that her bottom was still throbbing, and that it indeed did make her more afraid of him. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him and have that hand or belt applied to her backside yet again.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He nodded, looking down at the table for a moment. “A little fear isn’t a bad thing. I need you to mind me and do as I say. I want to keep you safe from Red... well, and Kane too. But I don’t want you too afraid of me though. You feel free to come to me with anything they may say or do that scares you. You hear?”

  “Yes, Sir. I will.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Everything Red did or said scared her. She’d probably be talking to Silas every five minutes, truth be told.

  “I’m hungry too,” Silas said. “There’s a great little place to eat here that makes home-cooked meals. Let’s go get some dinner before we go to bed. Morning will be here early.”

  He stood up abruptly, holding his hand out to her. “I need to stop at the telegraph office first. It will just be a moment to send a message, then we’ll go straight to Ma’s Place.”

  “Your mother lives here?”

  He chuckled. “Nah, that’s what Kate’s restaurant is called — Ma’s Place — and she owns it. Once you have some of her food you’ll see why people call it that.”

  * * *

  They came back to the room, and as promised, the food had been just like her Ma had cooked. It made her miss her family back in North Carolina. When she’d married Beau, she never thought she’d be a widow in less than a year. The damned war. How many of her friends lost brothers and fathers to The Cause?

  At the time, all she cared about was marrying a soldier, someone handsome in a uniform at their wedding. She loved him — as much as anyone at seventeen can love a man. And even now, at almost nineteen, she felt so much older than she’d been then. As a small child, she played house with her brothers and sisters. Marrying Beau had that same feeling of almost… unreality. She remembered feeling that at any minute her mother would call her for dinner and it’d be over. Instead, it had been the knock on the door with a young sober-faced soldier ending her dream.

  Her days of playing house had ended abruptly indeed.

  So, when the ad in the newspaper said there was a Widow Wagon heading west, she’d packed her trunk and they’d given her a name of man in Idaho — Mr. Thomas Ferris. The man who’d become her new husband, building a life with her in a new home out West.

  And that dream too ended as she’d been thrown recklessly over a horse at the point of a gun. More than likely, she’d be defiled tonight by Silas and her reputation would be in tatters. She’d be known for the rest of her life as poor Widow Johnson. People would whisper behind their hands or fans about what happened years ago to Poor Widow Johnson.

  “What was that sigh for?” Silas patiently stood, waiting for an answer.

  Oh, shit! She didn’t realize that she’d done that out loud.

  “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

  He stared for a moment, as if he knew she wasn’t telling the truth. Then he said, “Yeah, I’m tired too.” He tipped his head toward the privacy screen. “Why don’t you go over there and get out of that dress. At least you can sleep in your chemise. Might be a little more comfortable.”

  “I couldn’t... why, it wouldn’t be—”

  “I’m not taking no as an answer. Go change.” His tone made her belly flip and her ass tingle. I
t had just stopped throbbing, and she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to reawaken the ache in her bottom. She walked briskly behind the privacy screen, starting to undo the ties at the back of her skirt, only to jump at the timbre of his deep voice behind her. “Let me undo these buttons for you or you’ll never get this off.”

  He deftly undid the buttons on her dress, then unlaced the ties on her corset, leaving her to take them off privately. Pushing them off her shoulders, she let them fall to the floor. She picked them up and neatly folded them over the top of the screen. Before she could come out from behind the screen, there was a loud knock on their door. She stayed where she was, hidden from view.

  Silas’ booted feet clomped on the floorboards as he walked to the door, opening it. “What do you want?”

  “We wanna see if Minnie is naked in bed. Did you fuck her yet, Silas?”

  Red.

  Of course, it was Red with his crude and crass remarks.

  “We wanted to see if you’d let us watch. We’ll just sit over there and watch you two. Won’t say a word!” Kane sounded drunk, the both of them even more obnoxious than usual.

  “No, you can’t watch!” Silas barked. “What in the name of hell do you think this is? Get the fuck out of here before I knock you both out.” There was a bit of shuffling, and she realized he was pushing them back out to the hallway.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, Silas, if we don’t hear some noise coming from this room — something that says you’re taking her — we’re coming back to take her to our room. If we can’t see it, we damn well better hear it!”

  Oh, God! They want to hear her screaming?

  She stood with her hand to her chest, hoping if she pressed hard enough that she’d be able to make her heart stop beating so hard. Maybe she should try to escape now? Where would she go though? Sheriff. She’d go to the Sheriff’s office, tell him she’d been kidnapped, and he’d bring her back to the Widow Wagon. She’d have to plan her escape though — she didn’t want to get caught. Silas wasn’t a man to trifle with.

  “Don’t you worry about seeing or hearing anything. What I do isn’t any of your fucking business!” Silas slammed the door, and stood silently, breathing so hard she could hear it across the room.

  “I know you’re ready, so come out here.” He’d said it so gruffly, she wanted to curl up in a corner instead. But she took a deep breath and moved around the screen to find him standing in the middle of the floor, hands on his hips, the large belt buckle on his belt gleaming, catching the light from the nearby oil lantern on the night stand.

  Although the room was stifling hot — and in spite of the breeze blowing the lacy sheers on the windows — she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself from his gaze.

  “I have sisters, you don’t have to worry about your body. I’ve seen girls ... and women in their chemise before.” He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

  She didn’t know how to answer that, so she sat in silence. He walked over to a small table, picking up a glass decanter filled with amber liquid and pouring a thumb of that liquor into one of the sparkling crystal glasses. He set the glass down in front of her. “Drink it.”

  “I don’t like whiskey or liquor.” She pushed the glass away with the tips of her fingers.

  “I didn’t ask if you liked it, I said to drink it. It’ll calm your nerves and make this easier.”

  This.

  He was now referring to her ruination as this. Would she call it that for the rest of her life too? Probably. She’d say to friends, “I had promise, I had a future and then this happened.” Or “People have no idea what it feels like to have something like this happen. Things like this change you for life.”

  If it would calm her nerves and make it easier, she’d do it. She picked up the glass, took a deep breath, and drank it all down, barely letting the liquid touch her tongue. She slammed the glass onto the table… and jumped up, her throat feeling as if she’d swallowed fire. Even breathing seemed suddenly difficult, and she flailed her arms, beginning to panic.

  “Jesus H. Christ, girl, what did you do? You aren’t supposed to swallow it all at once.” He leapt over to her, slapping her on the back so hard that she forgot she couldn’t breathe and drew in a great gasping breath.

  Silas filled a glass with water, handing it to her. “Drink this.” Then he added hastily as she grabbed desperately for it. “No! Just sip it!”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. He didn’t need to treat her like she was a feeble-minded woman. Sipping the water at least somewhat soothed the liquid fire in her throat.

  “Thank you, Silas, even though you could’ve warned me of the effects of swallowing it too fast.” She pushed the tumbler at him, taking a seat in the chair.

  He walked to the liquor cabinet, setting the glass on top. “I didn’t think you’d be that green about alcohol. And don’t think I missed that glare either. Watch your attitude, missy.”

  It didn’t take long for her to feel a little woozy, her lips beginning to go slightly numb. She thought she might like having a little more, despite the burn. If a little felt good, more would feel even better, right?

  She pointed to her glass on the cabinet. “I think I’d like another glass of that whiskey, Silas.”

  He leaned back in his chair, studying her face for a moment before taking his booted foot off of his knee, rising gracefully without a word. His long fingers, tan with clean, neatly filed nail beds, seemed out of place for an outlaw. The backs of his hands were thin, the bones defined and easily seen with large veins prominently displayed. She knew from ‘hands on experience’ that those thin, wide hands packed a wallop; she still couldn’t sit comfortably on the wooden chairs.

  He held the amber liquid in front of her. “Do you think you can handle this, girl? Or should I feed it to you like you’re a child?”

  “There’s no need to be condescending, Silas. I’m getting a little tired of you treating me like I’m some imbecile. I’m a cultured, intelligent woman. But on second thought, maybe that’s your problem. You don’t know what to do with a woman like me. Hmph.” She turned in her chair, lifting her chin and closing her eyes to sip the whiskey — gently and slowly this time.

  After she put the glass down, he still stood in front of her, pulling her to her feet, cupping her chin in his one hand while the other squeezed her still sore spanked bottom, squeezing it and making her gasp.

  “Oh, don’t doubt for a second think that I don’t know what to do with you, girlie. I believe this little ass, if I’m guessing correctly, is still throbbing from the attention I gave it. And if you keep it up, I’ll dust it a little more before you get sent to bed to cry yourself to sleep.”

  He stood so close that the hard bulge in his pants pressed against her soft belly. She tried to pull away, only to have him pull her in tighter. “Do you think you might want to sit on your little tail and drink quietly now? Or should I impress upon you that I do indeed know how to handle a cultured, intelligent, sassy-mouthed woman in need of a lesson?”

  “Uhm...” She felt her face flush. “I think I’d like to sit down now, Sir.”

  “I like hearing you call me ‘Sir.’ By all means, Miss Minnie, sit down and behave.”

  She watched him walk back to his chair. The black pants and long sleeve shirt he wore only made him look more dangerous. He’d changed to that outfit before they left for dinner and she had to admit he cleaned up nicely. Funny how Red and Kane stayed in their clothes and didn’t appear to have cleaned up at all. She had so many questions about Silas, but as her captor, she found herself wondering why she even cared about those little details.

  He moved like a lion, smooth, slow, graceful. He slid into his chair, crossing his right ankle onto his left knee. With his elbow on the table, he cupped his face with his thumb and forefinger, like men do when they are thinking or regarding someone — or something — intently.

  “So, tell me, Minnie, how did you end up in this situation? Getting kidnapped. Because I’m assumin
g that your wagon master had rules to keep his women safe on this passage west.” His booted foot jiggled on his knee. He had huge feet. The boots were well-kept, as with everything else about him. He seemed to care for the details — keeping his beard trimmed, brushing his teeth, keeping his boots oiled. Perhaps there was even more he cared about.

  Minnie cleared her throat. “Angus did have rules.” She stopped there, not sure she liked where this discussion was heading.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Such as?”

  “Well, we were supposed to tell him that we needed to attend to our lady business. And then we would have to go with a partner, while he stood at a safe distance with his gun. We weren’t supposed to be alone — ever.”

  “Mmm. As I suspected. “ He dropped his leg, leaning forward, lacing his fingers between his knees. “So tell me, girl. Did you chafe under those rules?”

  “I did. I didn’t like them. Women should have their privacy. One day we — the women on the Widow Wagon — got into a bit of a... fight. And I ran off by myself to sit in an alley alone in Independence — actually not far from where we are now. So, yes, Angus knew I didn’t like the rules.” She looked down at her hands.

  He was silent for a long moment, and she lifted her head, watching him.

  “So what happened when he finally found you in the alley?”

  “Do I have to answer all these questions?” She furrowed her eyebrows. Exactly who the hell did he think he was asking all these damn questions? If he was going to defile her, he needed to just get it over with. They weren’t courtin’ or anything.

  “Yes. I want answers. And keep your attitude in check. I won’t say it again.”

  “He dragged me back to the wagon and in front of all the women who’d traveled with me, and all the other pioneers stationed there with us, he spanked my bare bottom with a large handmade paddle he carries with him.” The blush flooded up her neck, rising up her face, engulfing her in the heat of embarrassment. She refused to look at him. He probably took great enjoyment in her retelling the story.