Wild Western Women Ride Again: Western Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  When she reached the bar, she turned toward the men. “Thank you, you may be seated, gentlemen.”

  Crossing his arms, he gazed at her, wanting to bend her over his knee and paddle her, but knowing if he touched her, that wouldn’t be good. Because he feared once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And a saloon was hardly the place to put his hands on the lady. “You are bound and determined to get thrown out of town, aren’t you?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Jack?” she asked all innocent and doe-eyed.

  “Women are not allowed in saloons. City ordinance number twenty-five.”

  She raised her brows at him in a haughty manner. “America, land of the free. I can go just about anywhere I want to.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Well, Miss Betsy Ross, let me escort you to the sidewalk.”

  “Afraid to talk to me in here?” she asked, turning to glance at all of the men sitting at tables, watching them.

  “I’m the mayor. It looks really bad when I break the laws,” he said, not wanting any of the city councilmen to walk by and see the gorgeous temptress in his saloon.

  “They’re stupid laws,” she said.

  “That may be so, but until they’re rescinded, I am duty bound to obey them.”

  She stared at him with her eyes all big and blue and her mouth oh-so tempting. “Well, then get to it. Update that odious scroll of outdated decrees.”

  He shook his head. “You know I should make you buy something for coming into my place of business. After all, you made me buy something at yours.”

  “Recommend something to me, and I’ll buy it.”

  Taking her by the elbow, he walked her back through the crowd of men to the door, not about to open the temptation to serve her liquor. When they went through the swinging doors, the silent bar suddenly erupted in laughter.

  Abigail frowned. “Your men seem to think it’s funny when a lady visits your den of inequity.”

  He shrugged. “You’ve given my customers some entertainment this afternoon. I should be thanking you for that.”

  “Glad I could be of service. Now, about this dinner invitation… What’s the occasion?” she said, her eyes all wide and blue.

  “No occasion. I just thought it would give us a chance to get to know one another a little more. I could give you the town’s reasoning behind these archaic laws.”

  His hand felt right, gripping her elbow as they leaned against the outside wall of the saloon away from the swinging doors, but still under the awning. They were certainly drawing the interest of the people on the street as they passed.

  “If this is going to be a night of you trying to convince me to sell the store, then we might as well end this conversation right now. I’m keeping my store, and I’m winning this battle,” she said, her eyes flashing defiant.

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up, staring into those eyes that reminded him of bluebonnets in spring. A searing heat started in his groin, and he released her chin. “Now, Miss Vanderhooten, I wanted the honor of getting to know you better, to find out why you are so determined to hang on to that dilapidated store.”

  So, he was lying. Sure, he wanted to spend time with her, but he also was going to try to convince her to end this fight. People were taking sides. It could get ugly.

  She smiled. “I’ll meet you at the café at seven tonight. Bring your dictionary as you’re going to be looking up a number of words that will explain why I’m keeping my posh new store.”

  He frowned. Had she done some remodeling? It would be too obvious to go by now and check it out. What if the changes she made catered to the women in this town? They were sorely missing a shop of their own since Mr. James had closed his women’s boutique. If she catered to the women, they would stand behind her even more.

  “See you then,” she said, walking down the sidewalk away from his saloon.

  Abigail was way too smart and business savvy; she knew exactly what she was doing if she had restocked her store for the female shopper.

  ***

  Promptly at seven o’clock, Jack was standing outside the café, waiting for the luscious Miss Vanderhooten. He felt a tug on his jacket and turned around. There she was, standing behind him in a lovely green dress that fitted her curves. She carried a small purse, and a warm feeling filled him at the sight of her. Why had this woman awaken his long sleeping desire and had him thinking thoughts of just how she looked beneath that beautiful dress?

  He halted his thoughts before he undressed her. He didn’t need to imagine Abigail without her clothes on. He didn’t need that kind of torture.

  “Good evening,” she said. “I took the long way, so I could get some exercise and clear my head. I’ve been working in the store, rearranging things all day and needed some fresh air.”

  He smiled down at her. She was such a petite little thing, but looks could be deceiving. Behind those beautiful blue eyes and gorgeous blonde hair was a mind that was way too smart for her own good, and she had a will of iron.

  Rearranging? Yes, he’d bet his last dollar she was preparing her store for the female buyer. And if so, this could become an all-out war between the men and women.

  “I’m starving. Let’s go eat,” he said, gazing at her, wishing they weren’t on opposing sides and he was courting her, instead of plying her with food for information. But he hadn’t courted a woman since college.

  As they settled in at a table, she glanced around the room, taking in people’s obvious interest in the couple. Several men waved to him and smiled knowingly.

  “Well, aren’t we the couple of the hour,” she said, smiling at the people staring.

  “It’s because you’re with the mayor,” he said and winked at her, knowing the gossip would be flowing through town, worse than a spring flash flood and possibly as dangerous.

  If the town had a newspaper, this would be headline news in the morning edition. By tomorrow afternoon, someone would have created a rumor they were courting, and they’d be married by sundown. All in the name of gossip.

  “Maybe they’re afraid I’m going to influence you, and by the time we’re done, you’ll be instructing the council to reform those outdated laws and let women own businesses,” she said, her brows lifted, a smile on her full mouth.

  Boy, how he would like to taste those saucy lips, run his fingers across them, and stroke her face. But that couldn’t happen. That would certainly give the gossips something to tattle on about.

  “I think I’ve already fallen under your spell. I’m going to have to resign and let all you ladies take over,” he said, laughing at her, wishing they were alone.

  The cook came over, and they ordered their meals, and then they sat there looking at each other. How quickly could he get his purpose accomplished, and then get this beautiful woman escorted home, putting as much distance as possible between the two of them? She was not the type of woman he normally felt such an attraction to, and she was dangerous. The woman was nothing but trouble, the kind he didn’t need.

  “How’s the store doing since your father died?” he asked.

  She smiled. “I know you want me to sell, and you’re probably trying to keep customers from coming in, but so far it’s not working.”

  Part of him was relieved her business was still doing well. “I assure you I’ve done nothing to affect your business.” He may not have done anything to stop the clients from coming in, but he knew the council members were instructing everyone they knew not to shop there.

  “I’ve invited the women’s sewing club to meet once a month in the back of the store. There they can discuss the latest fashions and how to create them. On that day, I’m giving them a ten percent discount on any sewing notions they purchase. We’re in discussions now with another group of women to start a woman’s auxiliary club, and we’re offering the store as a meeting space.”

  The women of New Hope had never shown an interest in being involved in a civic way, and he could see Abigail was winning th
em over. Slowly, she would indoctrinate them into her politics. How would the city council handle a women’s movement in their small town? Because he feared that was where this was headed.

  “You’re really catering to the women in this town,” he said, worry rushing through him and settling in the pit of his stomach. The men would not want to see their women change.

  “Yes, I am. I’m going to start holding one event a week that will have a women’s group meeting there. I would love to include the men’s groups, but right now I don’t trust you guys to behave yourselves. Not when I receive at least one warning a day that I should sell.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. This was the first he’d heard that she was being threatened. That wouldn’t do. “Are they threatening you personally?”

  “Not so far, but just like today, a man came in and offered to buy the store from me. He told me I should seriously consider his offer before I ruined the value of the store.” She shook her head. “After all, I don’t have a brain in my pretty little head, and I’m just here for birthing babies and taking care of my man—if I can get a husband.”

  Jack threw back his head in laughter. The woman had a wicked sense of humor, and he had already heard this sentiment spoken more than once in town by men. Keep your woman under control in the home. Keep her pregnant.

  “I didn’t tell the man I was considered the smartest woman in my class at Boston University or that I was getting a business degree.”

  Jack gazed at her, admiring the way her blonde hair was piled in a chignon atop her head, and her sapphire eyes left him feeling warm. “So, why aren’t you selling the store and going back to school?”

  She sighed. “The money I make from the sale would probably get me through my degree. But then, to continue on, I would be forced to marry a man to live comfortably or take a job I’d hate. I don’t want to get married. If I married, my business would automatically be put in my husband’s name. I’d lose total control. I like being in charge of my destiny, of having choices.”

  “How many marriage proposals have you received?” he asked, knowing there was a group of men who were constantly searching for a woman. Some had even resorted to mail order brides.

  “At least one a day,” she said with a laugh. “One of the first ones sent me a note and told me to meet him at the church, and we could take care of getting married right away. I’d never even met the man.”

  Jack felt a surge of anger at the unknown man. Yet, he knew the men in this area wanted the business. She came as part of what they wanted, and they’d accept her as part of the deal, as long as they made all the decisions.

  “You have to understand our town was founded by a religious group of settlers. The men believed women have no say. You are to bear children and cook and clean for the family. That’s your sole purpose in life.”

  Abigail smiled. “Hogwash. I’m a human being. I have just as much right as a man.”

  He laughed. “I’m not saying I believe that, but I’m trying to give you the history of the town. Most women want to get married and have children. Why don’t you?” he asked, wondering what this school she’d attended had taught her.

  “I want to get married, but I intend to marry for love,” she said.

  Love? What a naïve notion. “It doesn’t work that way. People get married for companionship and to have a family,” he replied, shaking his head at her sadly. “And most of the time, the father chooses the woman’s husband.”

  “Well, my father is dead. I have no uncles. So, who is going to choose for me? That’s an outdated system. If I don’t love the man, then I’m not going to marry him. I don’t need him.”

  He glanced around the diner. “Do you think everyone in this restaurant loves each other?”

  She furrowed her brow at him. “Absolutely not. How many women in this restaurant, if given the chance, would leave their husbands today?”

  “We’re not talking marriage; we’re talking business. Look around. These marriages are businesses. Marriage based businesses. That’s what these women are—they needed to be taken care of. The man offered and was accepted. It’s not about love,” he said shaking his head.

  She smiled. “My point exactly. For most of these women, their husband was chosen for them. Some of the marriages turned out happy; some did not. If they had property when they married, it went to their husband. I’m not going to live my life that way. I want a man who is my companion, my lover, my business partner, not my owner, my boss or my master. I can’t live that way.”

  “That’s a naïve school girl’s attitude. That’s not realistic or possible,” he said, thinking about his own parent’s marriage and how miserable they were together. What he’d seen was the reason he had no intention of ever marrying.

  She smiled. “Most people think so, but I’m an educated, modern young woman, and I don’t intend to live like my ancestors did. It’s time for women to change the world, and I plan on being a part of that change.”

  He just about spewed his food. “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “I’m a member of the National Women’s Suffrage Association. I marched in Boston with women for change. Over time, I intend to bring that movement here.”

  “Oh no, you’re not,” he said louder than he intended.

  She smiled. “You can’t stop me.”

  “If you keep this up, you’re going to be an old maid.”

  Busting into laughing, she shook her head. “That’s a scary threat. Living without a man.”

  The woman was making fun of him. She was laughing at the idea of never marrying. He’d never met anyone like her. She intrigued him, made him want to know her better.

  She tilted her beautiful head at him, and all he could think about was taking her in his arms and kissing that smart, full mouth of hers. Of nibbling on her saucy lips until she went limp in his arms. That could never happen because he could never act on this attraction he felt toward this sprite of a woman.

  “What does it matter? If I don’t find the right man, I’ll be an old maid anyway,” she said with a defiant tilt to her head.

  “That kind of love is only real in fairy tales. It does not exist in real life.”

  She shook her head at him. “No, Mr. Turner, it does. It’s very real, and I hope you find it someday.”

  He glanced down at his food. The woman was wishing his idea of hell on him, and yet, he couldn’t help but want to spend more time with her. “You are going to make my life difficult, aren’t you?”

  “Whatever are you talking about? How will I make your life difficult?”

  “I’m supposed to convince you to give up your fight, sell your store, and get out of town, but I don’t think I’m getting anywhere.”

  She laughed, the sound a soft melody that sent tingles down his spine. He couldn’t remember the last woman who had affected him this way. But, this couldn’t happen. She was the wrong woman in the right place at the wrong time. No, no, no.

  “Not a chance. I’m not selling, and I’m not leaving. I’m going to bring my friends here to help settle the town with modern young women doing business.”

  He glanced up from his food and stared at her. Fear radiated through him at the idea of what this would do to their small community. “No, you can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Some of my fellow NWSA sisters are on their way here now.”

  “Dear God, you wouldn’t,” he said under his breath.

  She smiled. “Already done. The first woman should arrive in two weeks.”

  Jack stared at the beautiful woman in front of him. He was in so much trouble. New Hope would never be the same after the women from Boston arrived. How would the city council take this news? And did he dare tell them, or should he let them find out on their own, the hard way?

  ***

  On their way out of the café, Jack reached for Abigail’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm.

  She glanced up at him, her brows raised. Why was he being so polite?


  “Excuse me, but my mother raised me to always be well mannered to a lady, and therefore, I will escort you back to the mercantile,” he said.

  “Don’t let me harm your male sensibilities,” she said. “I enjoy being treated like a lady.”

  To her amazement, Abigail had enjoyed her dinner with the handsome mayor. She hadn’t planned on taking pleasure with him, but he was actually fun and entertaining. The evening had flown by, and when the restaurant had started closing, they’d had their final battle over who was paying the bill. When he’d announced that his manhood would forever be damaged by her paying the tab, she’d relented. Lord help her, she didn’t ever want to permanently scar the poor man, but she already had plans on how she could get even.

  “Thank goodness for that,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder.”

  “I just want to have the same rights and privileges as a man. I want to be treated as an equal.”

  Why was it so hard for a man to understand that a woman wanted to be treated like a lady, but not as if her brain cells were only capable of cooking and reproducing. There was so much more between her ears that insisted on experiencing everything life had to offer.

  “But you’re the weaker sex. Men are supposed to take care of women and children,” he said. “That’s our purpose on earth.”

  “And that’s a great manly attitude, but I’m just as smart as a man. And I need to know how to take care of myself, in case a man is not around or if I just want to be an equal. There’s room here for us to work together.” Without endangering a man’s pride.

  Oh rubbish, men seemed threatened by the very idea of a woman learning as much as she could about life and participating in it.

  “Lord, I pity your poor husband…if you ever find a man willing to put up with your beliefs.”

  “My mentor in Boston was married. They were happy and very much in love.”

  In the darkness, she could see him shaking his head. “The man was certainly no cowboy, and I bet he was soft.”

  “Mr. Minor was a college weightlifter, a businessman, and a professor at the college.”