Marnie (Pendleton Petticoats Book 4)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Surprised when Kade laughed, Lars gave his full attention to the deputy. “If stupid had a face and name, you’re looking at it.”

  The prisoner glared at Kade but remained silent.

  “You don’t say?” Lars waited for Kade to continue.

  “Wilburs, here, took a notion to rob the train. Apparently, he’d been involved in a few train robberies and decided he could make more money striking out on his own. A couple of kids noticed him jump on the train and before the porter could stop them, a group of men trussed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey and threw him off the train. We received a telegram from their next stop letting us know where to pick him up. He was still all tangled up in the brush, poked full of thistles and crying like a baby when we got there.”

  “A real devoted criminal.” Lars attempted to keep a straight face as he picked up the basket Caterina left for him while Kade removed the shackles around the man’s ankles.

  “Did you have to tell ‘im everythin’, deputy?” the man asked, hanging his head in shame.

  “Yeah, I did. Maybe by the time you get out of prison, you’ll have wised up a little.”

  “Maybe,” the man said as Kade led him out the door.

  The two lawmen were silent as they escorted the prisoner to the depot and situated him in a seat at the back of the last passenger car on the train. Kade shackled his ankles, making sure the chain wrapped around the leg of the seat while Lars attached a chain to the man’s hands, securing it to his ankle chain. Even if something happened to Lars, the possibility of the man being able to move unassisted was slim.

  Lars set the basket from Caterina beneath his seat then took a few steps away, far enough the prisoner couldn’t hear them speak. Genuinely liking the man, Lars reached out to the deputy and shook his hand.

  “Please tell your lovely wife I appreciate the food. I haven’t been this well fed for a long time.”

  “You’re welcome. She lives to make people happy through her cooking,” Kade said, smiling as he backed toward the door. “I’ll let her know you enjoyed it. Have a safe trip.”

  “Thanks, Kade. Enjoy that nice little family of yours.” Respectfully, Lars touched the brim of his hat.

  “I do, every day.” Kade hurried out the door.

  Lars watched him speak with people as he made his way across the platform. The deputy seemed like a man who was content with life and himself.

  Maybe someday Lars would know how that felt.

  Chapter Two

  The clock in the hall struck the hour with a chiming force that resonated into Marnie Jones’ room.

  Dearly wishing she could ignore it, she pretended the sound escaped her notice and left her nose buried in the book held in her hands. Fully relaxed in her overstuffed deep pink chair, she sat with her feet dangling over one arm as she lost herself in an exhilarating adventure with a dashing pirate and a lovely, innocent girl.

  When the clock struck a quarter past the hour, Marnie placed a lacy, crocheted bookmark between the pages of the book and set it on the table next to a small silver dish of chocolate bonbons she liked to keep on hand. Since she’d already brushed her teeth for the evening, she avoided the temptation to pop one in her mouth and indulge in the rich confection.

  The only thing she loved more than good chocolate was a good adventure story. A tale that would take her away to a place where she forgot all about her life for an hour or two and could pretend to be the heroine, someone cherished and loved.

  Lazily stretching her arms over her head, she looked around her room with a sense of pride. An intricately stitched candlewick quilt, in shades of cream, covered her large mahogany bed. The matching commode held a beautiful pitcher and washbowl festooned with pale pink roses while the dresser on the opposite wall held a large mirror. The soft rug, a creamy creation with burgundy roses, gold scrolls and green leaves, kept her toes warm in the winter while her chair provided a comfortable place to sit when she wanted to read.

  Admiring the dainty floral pattern of her wallpaper along with the lacy swags that covered her window, Marnie felt fortunate to have such a lovely room. Situated in a quiet corner, it was the nicest private room in the second-floor business space occupied by her employer, Miss Clementine. She knew several of her coworkers were jealous of her room as well as her status as Miss Clementine’s favorite.

  However, if she planned to maintain that lofty position, she had better get to work. Miss Clementine expected her to be ready to greet clients at half past the hour.

  Marnie rose from the chair, lifted her skirts and yanked up her black stockings, securing the gaudy red garters holding them in place. She stepped in front of her full-length mirror, adjusted her black and red satin-striped skirt, rising scandalously high in the front, and made certain the bright red petticoat she wore peeked from beneath the hem. Expertly powdering her décolletage, she added a spray of cheap perfume that made her want to retch, and pinned a jaunty red feather in her hair. A touch of crimson rouge stained her cheeks and lips then she painted dark rims around her eyes and smiled at herself in the mirror.

  “Time to get to this,” she said to the reflection and walked over to her window, brushing aside her lace curtains. After pushing the window all the way open, she grabbed a handful of peanuts from a pail she kept on the floor and sat down on the sill. She hung one leg out and adjusted her skirt so anyone glancing up at the second story window got a good view of her shapely limb, right up to her knee.

  Grateful it was a warm February day, instead of cold and miserable, the pleasant weather made her job of drawing customers inside so much easier.

  As she peered down at the newly set spikes on top of the railing leading down to O’Malley’s Card Room in the Underground, she frowned, annoyed O’Malley grew weary of replacing the railing.

  Miss Clementine’s staff couldn’t be faulted for men sitting or standing on the railing while talking to the girls flirting from their second-story windows, enticing them to come upstairs. Every few months, the boys would work some of the rails loose or bend down the top of the railing and the card room owner decided to put a stop to it once and for all.

  The spikes definitely hampered the ability of the girls to interact with potential clients and talk them into coming inside.

  Hopeful she’d reel in a customer before any of her coworkers, Marnie noticed a lone man riding down the street on a pale horse.

  It was a magnificent, large mount with a flowing tail and mane. His muzzle and one foreleg were gray, but the rest of him was a creamy shade of white. The steed put her in mind of one of her adventure stories when the prince rode in on a charging white beast to save the day.

  The cowboy stopped beneath her window and tied the horse’s reins around an iron ring set in the recently completed sidewalk for just that purpose. She watched as he rubbed his horse on the nose while taking in his surroundings.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think the man was Pendleton’s own Deputy Sheriff Kade Rawlings. The big, good-looking deputy coming to pay a social call would never happen. The only time Kade set foot in their brothel was when official law-keeping business brought him up the steps.

  She couldn’t blame the deputy. He had a beautiful, feisty wife at home who not only turned his head, but also kept him well fed with Italian food.

  From what Marnie heard, many men were near tears after sampling some of Caterina’s specialties. She supposed she might never know what the food tasted like, since she wasn’t welcome in any of the polite businesses in town.

  If she made a request of the woman, though, Marnie had no doubt Caterina would make Kade hand-deliver a plate to her. Mrs. Rawlings was just that type of person.

  The man below her had to be every bit as tall and solidly built as the deputy. He also carried himself like a lawman. She’d seen enough of them around Pendleton to know how they looked, sporting a combination of confidence, courage, and strength.

  Absently wondering who the man was, she tossed a few peanuts down, bouncing t
hem off the top of his black flat top cowboy hat.

  He removed his hat, fingered a lingering peanut then slowly, ever so slowly, raised his gaze upward. In the time it took his eyes to find hers, Marnie felt as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her as her breath flew out of her chest in a sudden whoosh.

  Bright, intense eyes bore into hers as something unfamiliar and entirely unsettling danced between them.

  She was right.

  Not only was the man below her similar in size to the broad-shouldered deputy, but he had to be every bit as handsome, too. From his strong jaw and square chin, covered in stubble, to his sensual, full bottom lip, she couldn’t think of when she’d seen a more attractive man.

  Scrambling to catch her breath and her thoughts, she pasted on her working girl smile and swung her leg back and forth in invitation as it dangled out her window.

  Marnie classified men as either “honey” or “sugar.” Honeys were the men who would kick a dog, beat a woman, and cheat at cards. Sugars, on the other hand, were men who were gentle, kind, and treated others fairly. She’d known all too few sugars in her lifetime and the one below her window looked to be the sweetest one of all.

  “Hey, sugar, you new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said, picking up a fan made of ruby-toned feathers and waving it enticingly in front of her face.

  The man below her didn’t answer, continuing to stare at her with a penetrating gaze as he settled his hat on a head of thick, wavy hair the same deep, golden color as the caramels she’d enjoyed last month when a client brought her a box of the sweets as a gift.

  Marnie suffered enough conviction of her own for the choices she’d made in her life. She certainly didn’t need a perfect stranger making her feel like horse droppings he’d scraped off his boot with one disapproving look.

  “Ma’am,” the man said in a deep voice that bore a hint of a southern drawl. He touched the brim of his hat then took a step backward so he didn’t have to crane his neck back so far to see her. “Might I assume you assault every male who makes the mistake of tying his horse here?”

  Marnie laughed and closed the fan. “No, sugar. I only toss peanuts at the ones I think I might like.” That much was true. Some of the girls would take anyone as a customer, but Marnie tried to be selective in her choices. So far, she’d never had a customer beat her or stalk her. “Where did you say you’re from?”

  The man shook his head and gave her a slow, lazy smile, making her stomach flutter with nerves. “I didn’t. I’d think you’d know better than to ask too many questions in your line of work.”

  Marnie blushed. She hadn’t done that in years and the fact he’d caused her to do so left her discombobulated.

  Lars Thorsen tipped back his hat and studied the soiled dove perched half out her second story window. As she turned nearly as red as the garish feather on her head, he wondered if she could become an ally.

  He’d learned early on that harlots tended to know everything there was to know about a town. If he wanted to find out which men drank too much, ran up gambling debt, or hid from the law — the working girls usually knew.

  A month ago, he’d been in Pendleton to transport a prisoner on his way to his new post in Portland. At that time, the deputy asked him to deliver a letter to his superiors, requesting assistance in bringing in the Bowman Gang. Lars wasn’t surprised to receive the assignment to track down and arrest the outlaws.

  The day he passed through town, the weather was unseasonably pleasant, despite it being January. Now, in mid-February, he could feel the promise of warmer days ahead as the sun began its evening descent.

  Eagerly anticipating the opportunity to sit down to a hot meal made by the engaging Mrs. Rawlings, Lars arrived at the conclusion he could have done far worse than being sent to Pendleton to bring in the gang.

  As he rode down one of the side streets trying to recall where to find Caterina’s restaurant, he detected movement in one of the second story windows. Curious, he deciding to stop and investigate what was going on. He was glad he had.

  Although he recognized the girl in the window for what she was, it was hard for a man who so admired women not to notice her shapely form, curly brown hair highlighted with golden touches by the fading sun, or the smooth, mellow resonance of her voice.

  The sight of her pleading eyes and pouting upper lip stirred something in his heart. If she scrubbed off all the paint on her face, he’d guess her to be about the same age as his baby sister.

  Thoughts of Ilsa left to find work in a bawdy house made his chest constrict with pain, so he returned his focus to the pretty girl sitting in the window above him.

  “What’s your name, sweet thing?” he asked, turning on his charm. He smiled, flashing large, white teeth against the tan of his face. Women had a hard time resisting him when he gave them his best boyish smile and he was fully aware of that fact.

  “Marnie, but if you come in and want to see me, you’ll have to ask for Red,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and saying something to someone he couldn’t see. “Look, sugar, I’d love to show you a good time. Why don’t you come on up and say hello in person? It’s the third door around the corner. You can’t miss it.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, miss, I need to take care of some business. I do appreciate your offer.”

  Marnie smiled — a genuine smile few people had the privilege to see. “You come visit me any ol’ time, sugar. I’ll be waiting.”

  “I’m sure you will be.” Lars gave her a teasing grin, tipped his hat and gathered the reins of his horse.

  “What’s his name?” The mellow voice from overhead called down to him.

  “My horse?” he asked, looking up at the girl. She’d armed herself with another handful of peanuts, ready for her next potential client.

  “Yeah. He’s a beaut.”

  Lars rubbed a hand on the big stallion’s neck. “He likes to think so. His name is Viking.”

  “Like from history? The invading, conquering Vikings?”

  “The very same.” Lars mounted the horse in one smooth motion. “Say, Miss Marnie, do you happen to know where I could find an Italian restaurant run by a woman named Caterina? I’ve heard the food is the best in town.”

  “That’s what everyone says.” Marnie pointed her finger down the street. “Turn left at the corner and go down three blocks. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your evening.” Abruptly recalling what the girl did for a living and how she would spend her evening, hot embarrassment flooded through him. He turned away before she could see the red climbing up his neck.

  “Enjoy your dinner, cowboy.”

  Lars turned Viking into the street and followed Marnie’s directions down the block and around the corner. The enticing aromas of Caterina’s cooking drew him as he neared her business. An open spot at the end of the block offered plenty of room to tie the horse, so he dismounted and looped the reins around a hitching post. After patting Viking on the neck, he stepped onto the boardwalk and walked to the restaurant door.

  A teasing waft of aromatic spices made his belly rumble and his mouth begin to water as he opened the door.

  A youthful girl greeted him, showing him to a small table in a corner and offering him a menu.

  Politely, he smiled and removed his hat and jacket then took a seat. Not sure what most of the dishes were, he remembered Mrs. Rawlings served him macaroni and looked for it on the menu. Not seeing it, he asked the girl for any recommendations and accepted her suggestion for the evening special of spaghetti with meatballs.

  “Is Mrs. Rawlings here this evening, by any chance?” he asked as the girl poured him a glass of water and set it on the table.

  “She is. Would you like to speak with her?”

  “If it isn’t any bother.” Lars hoped it wouldn’t be. He managed to make the basket of food the woman sent with him on the train last a few days. The taste of her delicious cookies had lingered in his thoughts. He hoped
he could order a few to take with him after dinner.

  The girl brought out a small plate with vegetables covered in a tangy dressing. Bowing his head in thanks over his food, Lars took his time eating the mixture of both familiar and strange vegetables, grateful for every bite. Even though the produce was canned, the oil and vinegar mixed with herbs that covered it gave it a fresh, lively taste.

  Cleaning every bite from the plate, he pushed it to the edge of the table and sat back, waiting for the rest of his meal. Only a minute or two passed until Caterina Rawlings brought out a plate heaped with spaghetti and meatballs the size of walnuts.

  “Marshal! If I’d known it was you asking to see me, I’d have hurried out sooner. Welcome back to Pendleton!” Caterina set the spaghetti along with a basket of bread on the table. He stood and stretched out his hand and she took it between her delicate fingers. “What brings you to town?”

  “A case. I think your husband knows someone was coming from our office, he just didn’t know it would be me. I didn’t either until the day before yesterday. I wanted to thank you for the wonderful food you sent with me when I was here before. It was very much appreciated.” Lars smiled at the beautiful woman with her wild black curls and snapping brown eyes. As pretty as she was to look at, he admired her skill in the kitchen even more. “Where are those two little rascals of yours?”

  “They’re staying the night with some friends who have a ranch a few miles out of town. Kade is quite excited at the prospect of a quiet evening. At least it will be once we finish up here and go home.” Caterina motioned for him to eat. “Go on and eat your dinner while it’s hot. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I know this will be good.”

  Caterina gave him a pleased look and bustled back to the kitchen.

  Lars jabbed his fork into the pasta and attempted to bring a bite to his mouth. The thin noodles slithered back to his plate, leaving him biting at empty air. Covertly, he glanced around the busy restaurant until he spied someone else with a plate of spaghetti, deciding there was an art to eating it. He watched as they twirled the noodles around the fork tines, copied their actions and took a bite, savoring the flavors as they burst on his tongue.