by Roxy Harte
The men surged forward, a voice shouting out, “What about the rest of us?”
“You're going to have to wait your turns.” Clancy cocked his rifle.
A man at the front of the line removed his hat and clutched it to his chest. He was shaking as he stepped forward. He motioned toward Lucy, and she leaned slightly to hear his question. “Would it be possible to just watch you get ready?”
“Get ready?” Lucy squeaked.
“You know, your morning ministrations.”
“My morning what?”
Clancy covered his mouth and coughed. “He wants to watch you prepare for your day. Most these men have been away from their wives a long bit. They're missing the finer things about having a woman around. Some of the women that worked here before would allow the men to watch. A brush swept through a woman's hair, a spritz of perfume, helping to lace a corset—goes a long way toward curing homesickness.”
“And washing.” The man interrupted.
Lucy felt faint. “You want to watch me bathe?”
He nodded rapidly. Four other men stepped forward to join him, all stating, “Me too.”
Oh my.
“The whores took the large copper bathing tub when they left.” Clancy called over his shoulder, “Georgie? Got anything like a large wash tub in that inventory room of yours?”
Lucy backed away. “I didn't say I'd do it!”
Georgie produced a large round bucket.
Lucy looked disbelievingly between Clancy and Georgie. “I-I can't!”
Clancy announced to the five men waiting, “Now what you're talking about is called a specialty service. Bathin', hair brushin', corset lacin', hosiery slidin'—”
The men licked their lips, looking famished, and Lucy knew she was the meal they wished to feast on.
“And no touchin'. For the touchin', yer gonna have to git back in this line and wait fer the next available girl.”
The men nodded agreeably. The man clutching his hat to his chest asked, “How much for this specialty service?”
Lucy stepped forward, intending for no man to want such a service. “Fifty dollars per man.”
All five men stepped forward.
“Oh!”
A sixth man stepped forward, holding out his gold. Daniel. Where had he come from? She certainly hadn't noticed him in the line before. She wouldn't have even entertained the idea… Oh God.
Twenty minutes later, Lucy stood in her bedroom, a galvanized tub filled with steaming water standing between her and Georgie. In addition to hauling water, he'd brought up six chairs and lined them up against a wall for the men to sit in. He'd have brought more chairs, had there been room.
“I don't think I can do this.”
“Pretend you're alone. Don't look at their faces. Bathe, dry, brush your hair, get dressed. Seems like a pretty easy three hundred dollars to me.”
Lucy let out a shaky breath. “Where will you be?”
“In the hallway. You need help, I'll be here.” The way he was clutching the rifle in two hands for emphasis, she believed him. He hitched the rifle under his arm to open the door and usher the men in. As advised, she didn't look at them. She actually turned her back to them as she heard them shuffle to their places to sit. Wood groaned beneath their weight as they did. She fought for control when she felt herself start trembling. She wouldn't show them fear—just as she hadn't shown her fear in the desert the day Emma died. She'd been stripped of her dignity along with her clothes when the men had started gambling.
She might have been raped by each of them had Daniel not arrived when he had.
And now he was here to watch this.
Would he see it as her fall into disgrace? Or would he see it as she saw it herself, reclaiming her pride and her power?
Lucy let the silk-and-lace dressing gown slide off her shoulders. Her back was to Daniel and the other men. His jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth together. Damn, the woman for being so foolhardy and stubborn. It wasn't that he had anything against soiled doves. Lord knew he'd shared his nights with more than a few, but he'd come to think of Lucy as his.
As her dark, silken skin was displayed, slowly, inch by inch, revealing the long curve of her back, her dimpled hips, the soft round of bare, cleft ass, the men went still and silent. A look at their faces told him they were as mesmerized by her beauty as he'd been the first time he'd seen her. The robe dropped, pooling at her ankles.
With her hair pinned at the nape of her neck as it was, nothing obstructed the view of her feminine perfection. She turned sideways, slowly allowing them to see her profile.
On the trail he'd come to see her as an actress. She'd been so in control of her emotions, her actions, being overly dramatic when she wanted or needed something direly—or wanted him to believe her desperation. And wrapping her strength around her like a cloak when there was no other choice but to do what she didn't want to.
He was seeing both now.
It seemed her every movement was slow and exaggerated: the bend of her knee as she lifted and pointed her toe, the slow dip as she tested the water before stepping into the silver washtub.
She stood in ankle-deep water but sighed as if she'd just stretched out in one of those fancy copper tubs like Miss Bernice had.
Bending at the waist, she gave them a view of her precious hidden treasure as she dipped a cloth into the water. Every man gasped and shifted in his seat.
Daniel knew they'd each shot hard, just as he had. He licked his lips, remembering the nights he'd held her, when he still believed she would be his and solely his each and every night from then to eternity, or until he decided he was through with her. Guess she'd shown him, and now she was rubbing his nose in the fact she would never belong to him.
Straightening, she lifted the rag, allowed water to cascade from it before touching it gently to her shoulder. She squeezed the fabric, and water sluiced over her shoulder and down her back, making her skin glisten. She kept her movements slowly exaggerated, bending and stretching, capturing warm water and wringing it onto her bare skin again and again until she was completely wet. Taking a bar of soap, she rubbed it between her hands and created a thick, fragrant lather.
As the exotic scent of almonds filled the air, Lucy rubbed her hands over the backs of her neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of creamy white foam over her dark skin, a testimony to each spot of flesh she'd touched.
Turning toward the men, she rubbed her hands over her breasts and down her belly. She dipped her hands between her legs, and her breasts caught between her arms and pushed forward, their puckered tips covered with suds. Daniel was certain each man couldn't decide where to look—at her glorious breasts or the teasing dip of her fingers repeatedly disappearing into the crevice of her thighs.
A man next to him moaned and grabbed the front of his pants. If Lucy noticed, she didn't react. As a matter of fact, during her entire performance, she hadn't acknowledged the men at all, adding to the illusion they were each secretly watching a woman's intimate toiletry ritual.
Squatting, knees apart, she cupped water in her hand and rinsed—slowly—giving each man a good long look before standing to towel dry.
She stepped from the tub, rubbing a dry cloth over her arms and legs, her breasts and belly, before pulling the cloth behind her to shimmy over her back and hips.
I have to have her. Daniel shook his head, not believing he still wanted her. Coming here, paying for her special service, had been meant to cure him of his lust for her. Seeing men drool over her and ejaculate in their pants should have disgusted him, but knowing the others wanted her as much only made him want her more.
Still nude, Lucy sat at a small table and faced a mirror. She pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the length to fall. Picking up a brush, she ran it through her long, thick waves. The men's eyes followed each stroke, and Daniel couldn't deny being entranced as well. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was a well-trained courtesan. He knew better.
A knock on th
e door signaled the hour was up, but she kept brushing her hair.
Georgie led the men from the room, and when Daniel looked over his shoulder back into the room, she was still brushing. He stepped back inside and closed the door.
“You all right, Lucy?”
Her eyes met his. “I'm a free woman now.”
“Yes. You are that.”
He couldn't look away from her. She was no different from the woman he'd brought over the mountain—strong, willful, determined—but still, she seemed somehow different.
Lucy pulled on her dressing gown and tied the sash at her waist tight. “Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. Hatch?”
“Not as a whore at any rate. Anytime you want to come to me as a woman, I'll be at the ranch.”
Chapter Nine
Daniel strode out of the room, leaving her before she could come up with an appropriate retort. She was prevented from following him by a second wave of men, all intent on seeing her bathe. She could almost understand the fascination, having seen droplets of water slide off Daniel's skin when they'd been on the trail. Seven baths later, she couldn't say she ever wanted to run a soapy cloth over her body again.
When she finally made her way downstairs, she didn't expect to find Daniel in the saloon but was still disappointed to find he wasn't there.
Thunder was.
All around him, men sat at tables, playing cards and drinking whiskey, but he'd chosen to sit alone in a dark corner, a glass filled with one of one of those fancy sparkling tonics in his hand.
Dao-Ming and Fang-Hua, looking as bright and fresh as newly blossomed daisies in a pile of manure, were easy to spot in the crowd. She was mentally exhausted. She guessed she was fortunate, having not spread her legs for a single man all day.
Dao-Ming and Fang-Hua had each found a lap to sit on, Dao-Ming on Mr. Bale's lap and Fang-Hua on the lap of a man she didn't recognize. Mr. Bale beamed at Dao-Ming and adjusted his wire-frames on his nose. Even following an exhaustive afternoon, Dao-Ming's hair was as tightly coiled as it had been at the start of the day. Fang-Hua, too, was well-groomed. It seemed they'd understood what she'd explained to them earlier.
The miner holding Fang-Hua in his lap shouted, “Lady Luck,” pulling the pot of chips toward him. Squeezing Fang-Hua's breast through the thin material of her shirt, he placed a sloppy kiss on her mouth. Lucy frowned and started toward them, but Georgie was already there. “This isn't the proper place for lewd behavior. If you would like a private moment with the lady—”
Seeing the man stand and fish coins from his pocket, Lucy turned away. She'd had it easy while Dao-Ming and Fang-Hua had been flat on their backs, legs spread all day. She left the saloon and started walking. Darkness had fallen while she'd been inside, and the streets were now crowded with men.
Hawkers called their wares from the doorways of their stores. “Pickaxes, twenty percent off for the next fifteen minutes,” competed loudly, almost completely drowning out, “Meat pies, none fresher anywhere.”
An Asian fellow juggled three torches, drawing an apt crowd, while a second passed a hat.
It was cold, her breath a white fog with each exhale, but at least it wasn't raining. She tipped her head back to look up at the stars and was surprised when a hand closed around her elbow.
“Not safe to be walking after nightfall.”
She looked at Thunder. “You followed me?”
“I've been waiting most the evening to buy you a drink, and as the sheriff of this town, it is my responsibility to see to the safety of its citizens. When I saw you exit on an obviously dangerous adventure, my only thought was for your safety.”
Lucy laughed. “You only care about protecting what's between my legs.”
“That too, but I honestly do like you, Lucy.”
“You like me enough to loan me your horse so I can go visit another man tonight, Thunder?”
He pulled her in tight to him and hissed near her face. “You want to borrow my horse so you can leave town and ride through all manner of danger on the open road to meet up with that black man who held a gun to my head, to fuck him?”
A drunk collided with them, apologizing as he veered away on unsteady feet. Lucy managed to hold Thunder's gaze through it. “Yes.”
“I like you more than that, Lucy.” He hurried her through the throng of drunk and rowdy men to the spot where his horse was tied in front of the jail. He lifted her into the saddle, then climbed on behind her.
“Thunder?”
“I'll take you to the ranch and wait for you to get done so I can see you safely back to town.”
Lucy whipped her face around, seeking his gaze in the shadows, but he ducked his head and clicked his tongue at his horse. “You don't have to do this.”
“Do you even know the way to Dangerous Dan's hideout?”
“Well, er, no.”
Thunder didn't have to say anything else.
Riding the dark road, they were challenged more times than she could count by miners with rifles intent on protecting their claims. She decided almost immediately she'd have been a fool to try to come through here alone. Tall pines on either side of the road provided a perfect place for a man to hide, and she startled more than once at a miner's sudden appearance. By the time they reached the ranch, she was jumpy, jerking at every sound.
Thunder helped her dismount and kept his hands on her waist a long moment after her feet found solid ground. She turned slowly to face him, her heart racing. Now that she was here, she questioned her sanity for coming out. She could be back at the hotel, in bed and warm if not yet asleep.
“Thank you. You don't have to wait for me.”
“Yes. I do.”
She licked her lips, wanting to argue she wouldn't be comfortable if he stayed. She wanted to tell him, This is Daniel; I'll be safe here, and he'll see me back to town, but she wasn't certain of the last part.
She knew Daniel wanted her to himself because he'd said as much when they'd been traveling companions. As much as she wanted to be with him as a woman, not a whore, she wasn't so certain he'd allow her to go back to town as a whore if she gave herself to him as a woman tonight.
A barrel poked through a rifle hole. “State your business.”
Thunder faced the front of the cabin, pushing her behind him to shield her. He lifted his hands to show he was unarmed. “Miss Lucy asked me to escort her—”
A rough voice from behind them demanded, “Pull that damn weapon back inside, Flint, before you kill someone.”
Gasping, Lucy turned and found herself face-to-face with Daniel. He was bare from the waist up, his hair and shoulders damp. She didn't know if there was a river or pond nearby, but she knew enough that if there were, he'd gone for a swim before bed, as had been his habit on the trail anytime water was at hand. In the dark, his expression seemed grim, making him a terrifying sight. He didn't look at her; his gaze was glued on Thunder. “Mighty late for a visit, Sheriff.”
“Escorting the lady, at her request.”
Daniel seemed to weigh Thunder's words before dropping his gaze to hers. “That true?”
“You did invite me.” There was a thick tension between the two men that she feared might lead to violence. Her gaze went to the house, where the barrel of the rifle had yet to disappear back through the wall. “It is a dangerous road to your ranch, Mr. Hatch. I did not expect to be greeted in this manner, or I wouldn't have come.”
Daniel took two steps toward the dwelling. “Flint!”
All evidence of the rifle disappeared. He turned back to Lucy, saying softly, “We can talk inside. You must be half frozen by now.”
She was, but she wouldn't admit it; however, she did start walking toward the cabin. She didn't look at Thunder at all. It was bad enough having her heart pound through her chest with the fear that she'd delivered him into an unsafe situation. Reaching the step to a low porch, she stopped. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she said, “Guarantee the sheriff will be safe for the duration of my v
isit.”
“He's staying?”
“He delivered me here. He'll deliver me back to the hotel.”
Daniel went still beside her. So still, she wondered if he was even breathing. Finally he called up to the house, “Sid, Flint, show the sheriff to the barn. He'll be our guest tonight.”
The main door opened, and the two men stepped out onto the porch, neither looking too happy.
“The two of you can keep him company.”
They looked even less happy, but they headed toward the barn. Daniel stretched his hand, directing her toward the open door. “After you?”
* * *
It slowly dawned on Daniel that he was staring at her—and Lucy was staring back. If he hadn't known better, he would have believed his heart had stopped beating and time was standing still. He released the breath he'd been holding. He'd thought he might never see her again. She certainly would have no reason to come to the ranch, but even as he'd thought it, he'd hoped. He wanted so desperately to believe something special had transpired between them. Love? He wasn't sure he believed in love. Sure, he'd been married, and he'd cared deeply for the woman, but not enough to stay. Between Wanikiya and Lucy, there'd been more'n a dozen whores, all more willing than the last to say anything and do anything if he'd just stay that extra hour, extra day. He wouldn't be able to say he'd loved any of those women.
He knew he felt something for Lucy he'd never felt before. An intensity. A protectiveness. He couldn't understand it, but it was something tangible, a thread stretched between them, binding them together.
He wanted her to be in his life.
Impractical. Totally and completely ludicrous, if he gave himself enough time to think about it. “I'm glad you came.”
Lucy turned to face him; the flames from the fireplace cast a shadowy golden light over her face that made her eyes seem even bigger, brighter, seeming scared and full of wonder at the same time. She didn't speak, though he waited for her to, watching her mouth for some sign she was speaking and he just wasn't hearing. Her lips seemed fuller, bruised, and he imagined other men kissing her.