Independent Brake (The Dominion Falls Series)

by Sarah Cass

  “I don’t need charm.” Cole winked and set two glasses on the bar. “Hammy. Look who came back to Dominion Falls.”

  When the man turned to face her, Kat almost fell out of her chair. She hadn’t recognized Gilbert Hamm at all at first. In the years since she’d left he’d gotten scruffier, if possible, and a goofy half-smile lit his features. “Well, I’ll be. Katherine Daugherty.”

  “You can call me Kat now.” She set her hand on his shoulder. “Hammy, I am happy to see you again.”

  Cole caught her glance, and nodded. “Ya know, you got to thank that fancy lady doc that you’re seein’ him at all.”

  “I, what? Why?” Her grip on Hammy’s shoulder tightened. “What happened?”

  “Doc says I had a stroke.” Hammy’s words were slightly slurred, and he spoke slow and deliberate. “I right near died.”

  Cole nodded, his lips thin. “That lady doc saved him. Fixed him up real good. He’s still a rotten drunk, though.”

  Kat laughed because she was supposed to, and because Hammy did, but couldn’t put much feeling behind it. “Well then I’ll have to thank her.”

  “Eh. I already did. Got her checkin’ on my whores regular. Pretty much the only work that lady gets.” Cole poured their whiskey. “Now drink up.”

  Without argument, Kat picked up her glass and tossed back the whiskey. The familiar burn down her throat, and warm after-shiver washed away her lingering melancholy. “Well, that’s good of you then, Cole.”

  “Naw, it ain’t.” Cole’s wicked grin returned. “I like havin’ her around. Bet she’s gonna be a fun one in my bed one day.”

  “What?” Kat scoffed. “You expect a woman doctor to come to your bed? One that’s married? How do you propose such a thing would happen?”

  “I said you’d repay me one day, and here you are.”

  “I’m not in your bed.”

  “Yet.”

  Kat quirked a brow and leaned her forearms on the bar. “There is no greater way to convince a woman to run far, then to be so sure she will run close.”

  “You ain’t running.”

  She pursed her lips and tossed back the fresh glass he’d poured her. Once she’d pushed it aside, she stood. “No, but I am walking. Thank you for the drink. How much do I owe you?”

  “This one’s on me.” He winked.

  “Adding it to my account?”

  “Ya could say that.”

  She turned her attention to Hammy. “It was good to see you again, Hammy. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

  “I’ll be ‘round.” Hammy raised his glass before he guzzled it down.

  Kat had only just stepped on the porch when her sister tore out of the boarding house. Martha’s once rich brown hair had grayed even further making her appear almost older than their own mother.

  While Kat had managed to avoid Martha so far, she had no doubt word had gotten around to the woman. In a small town like this, it took no time at all.

  Martha stormed across the street toward Kat. “Katherine Marie Daugherty!”

  “I go by Kat now, and you aren’t my mother, so I won’t take whatever scolding you have in mind.” Kat met her sister calm as could be. After the past five years, these days her sisters overbearing and uptight personality had little effect. After all, she’d faced worse foes—and she’d spent the past year in the company of equally repressed women. “I wonder what happened to you.”

  Martha stopped short, her features paled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You were once uninhibited enough to cheat on a wonderful guy with an Indian, not to mention getting pregnant out of wedlock and eloping.” Kat sighed and shook her head. “Now you’re more repressed than my compatriots. Hard to believe I once thought you to be fun.”

  “I...Katherine!”

  “I told you, it’s Kat.” She turned her back on her sister and started down the boardwalk, leaving her sister in the muck of the street. Part of her worried Martha would report her presence in town to their parents, but she imagined Martha wanted to see them even less than she did.

  * * * *

  The leader of the Temperance group, Helen Bertrand, paced back and forth. By now Kat was familiar with the routine. Helen would get herself keyed up so that she might get the others keyed up to agree to the next step. She’d already loudly denounced Cole’s saloon as the worst of the bunch, which would make him a prime target.

  At first Kat would argue until she was hoarse, but time had softened her arguments. Often instead, she’d merely protested, and then gone to the saloon Helen chose as prime target and attempt to warn the owner. Unfortunately she wasn’t always successful, many of the saloon owners dismissed her as an annoying, histrionic woman.

  Because of that, many saloons had been left with hefty damages in the wake of the women in this room. Kat saw no promise in destroying a person’s livelihood. For where you destroy one, often two more would spring up in its place.

  In the past few months she’d begun to believe with all honesty that Helen enjoyed reaching the point of violence. There was no sign of change now as, true to form, Helen quoted irrelevant scripture once again to boost her cause. “As it says in first Samuel, chapter fifteen, verse eighteen: ‘Go and utterly destroy the sinners...and fight against them until they are exterminated’.”

  Kat bit her tongue to hide her sigh and one of her standard retorts of scripture. No amount of ‘judge not’ or ‘let he who is without sin’ ever made a lick of difference. She toyed with the teacup on her saucer for a few minutes before she realized every eye was on her. She frowned and straightened. “Yes?”

  “No protest this time?” Lottie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That is your standard approach, is it not?”

  “As women who are beaten by their husband would tell you, you can only take so much berating before you cave to it. No matter what I say, you’ll do as you please.” Kat rose to her feet. “And so I’m leaving. I came along in hopes of helping some men learn temperance, not to destroy the livelihood of dozens of men who have no other trade.”

  “We have changed lives.” Helen held her bible close to her chest. “Sometimes it takes a strong hand to enforce such a thing.”

  “No. What you have done is bullied and pressured. You’ve interrupted men while in the sauce and tried to speak reason to their drunken minds. Perhaps on purpose because you knew then they wouldn’t listen and you’d have an excuse to take up your hatchet.” Kat brushed past Helen. “I want no part of such destruction. I never did. This call to arms is not what I signed up for.”

  “Quiet women don’t change the world,” Helen objected.

  “You don’t have to take up a hatchet to be heard,” Kat countered. “I am plenty loud without it. Plus, as I am, many men have listened to me. Perhaps I’ll be far more effective without the saddle of your infractions weighing my voice down.”

  Kat turned her back on their gasps and murmurs and strode from the boarding house. Part of her wanted to just go flying across the street to the saloon to warn Cole, but if she did so the women would see and change their plan.

  Instead, she turned and walked calmly back to the hotel. Once the world was quiet, she would go to warn Cole. For once, perhaps they might listen. Then maybe she’d feel her debt repaid, and could enjoy her pleasures without feeling like a whore.

  Without a word to anyone, she passed through the casino and climbed the stairs to her room. She had the good fortune of a front room with access to the balcony, so she wouldn’t have to pass through again on her way out.

  Three days she’d stayed at the Silver Saddle, and every day she hated it more. The proprietor was not only over-attentive in his consideration of her well-being; she’d learned in her time staying there he was also business partners with Jackson Krenshaw.

  Kat shuddered at the thought of seeing the man that had bought her parents house. From all she’d heard, he was as loathsome as a snake. He was all pseudo-cunning and cruel actions, not to mention his bold display of his wealth
.

  She managed to slip into her room quick enough to avoid being seen by Guy, and locked the door behind her. In just a few hours when the town was quiet, she’d make her move. In the interim, she’d get her things gathered into her trunk, and then read.

  Sometime the next day she hoped to find somewhere else to stay. Cora had been kind enough to offer a small room at the general store and restaurant she ran with her husband Kelly. Kat seriously considered the prospect, since she had few others on the horizon.

  Considering she had no idea how long she’d stay, it was premature to search for a permanent residence. For all she knew, she might just pack up and head to St. Louis before the month was out. Once the Temperance group was gone, she wasn’t sure just what she’d do with herself.

  Packing took longer than expected, and by the time she was done the town had already grown quieter. She gathered her book and sat near the door to keep an eye on the saloon across the way.

  Two hours and three chapters later Graham was tossing men out on their drunken rear ends. She frowned, unwilling to cross paths with the man Cole had apparently taken on as a business partner without explanation.

  Rumors had swirled about a young whore Cole had taken in for two years before shuffling her off just as quiet as her arrival; especially since at the same time of her arrival he asked Graham to join in running the saloon. Fiercely independent as Cole was, everyone was surprised he’d let in a partner of any kind—business or pleasure.

  They’d thought maybe with the new partner he’d turn the saloon into a hotel, or add in a casino, but none of that happened. The saloon remained unchanged, Cole’s mood had soured supposedly, though Kat saw little sign of it in their interactions, and now Graham’s drunken benders were facilitated by his ownership, and gave him a certain power to use his anger to beat up more men under the guise of order in the saloon.

  Kat set her book down and rose, closing the door behind her. Into the quiet of the night, she slipped down the stairs. By the time she reached the boardwalk, Cole was outside bidding farewell to Graham.

  She lingered until Graham was well down the street and only the flare up of Cole’s cigar when he dragged on it remained. With a careful step she slipped between two vendor carts into the muddy street. One benefit to changing to pantaloons was not having to keep her skirts elevated to avoid the muck of small town roads, and as always she was grateful for that small benefit.

  When she landed on the boards across the street, the light of the cigar turned her way. Inwardly she was both grateful they had yet to install street lamps, and upset by it. She’d appreciate seeing his face when she approached, but was glad the dark hid her from any prying eyes.

  Either way, by the time she got close, Cole’s chuckle reached her ear. When he himself reached for her, she side-stepped him to the porch. “Easy there, Cole. I didn’t come for fun, no matter how powerful you think your charms are.”

  “I don’t think—I know.”

  “I don’t think you know, either.” Despite his grumbled curse of a response, Kat laughed into the quiet night. “I came to warn you of the ladies’ plans.”

  “That so?”

  “If you care to listen. Most men don’t. I know you’re a rake and have cruel tendencies, but I’ve never taken you for a fool, so perhaps you will listen.”

  Since her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see him leaning against the post, still nursing his cigar. He shifted and crossed his legs. “I’m no fool.”

  “Helen, the leader, I’ve come to see her as rather blood thirsty.” Kat kept her voice low on the slim chance anyone was awake across the street. “She attends to the men when they’re drunk so she has an excuse for destruction of property.”

  “My property?”

  “As the biggest, and most frequented, saloon in Dominion Falls—not to mention your whore element, you are the best option.”

  “And will you be joinin’?”

  “I never have. I’ve tried to prevent them all along. I told you, I agree that temperance should be instilled, and knowledge—but I cannot stand by and watch them destroy a man’s livelihood in the name of God.”

  “Ya know when?”

  “They usually come first thing once business opens. They want an audience.”

  “You’re friends go to Cottonwood Springs a while back?”

  “Yes.” She leaned on the post opposite him and mimicked his stance.

  “Ruined a friend of mine’s business. I ain’t complainin’ too much, I got his whores outta the deal. He went west for gold.”

  “If you don’t want them to do the same to you, you’d best be prepared. I just wanted to warn you.”

  “I’m warned. I’ll be ready for ‘em.”

  “Good. Consider us even.”

  He snorted. “How’s that?”

  “I just saved you thousands of dollars’ worth of damage. I’d say we’re even for the assistance you gave me getting out of here, and sending me somewhere safe.”

  “That mean you ain’t gonna make it right otherwise?”

  “That means I won’t sell myself for any debt. I’m no whore.” Kat straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I choose when and with whom I lay.”

  In the dark she couldn’t tell if he was impressed, annoyed, or anything else. When he lingered in silence, she pushed off the post and walked across the porch right past him.

  She paused at the end of the porch long enough to say, “If you decide my debt is paid we will continue the discussion.”

  “It’s repaid.”

  “Are you saying that to see if you can remove my pantaloons?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I thought so.” Kat turned to face him again. “If you mean it, we’ll talk.”

  “Come in. Have a drink before you go back.” There was a hint of demand in his tone, one that wasn’t used to being ignored. “No charge.”

  “Sorry. I don’t take free drinks. I’d hate to build on my debt.”

  “Then five cents.”

  She pondered the prospect of making him sweat, but truth be told, it had been months since her last coupling, and the man hadn’t been very competent. “Two bits for two drinks. That’s your standard, isn’t it?”

  “Was giving you the ladies discount.” He drawled in a knowing tone. “Standard for any woman brave enough to drink in my saloon.”

  “Fine. Ten cents for a drink, and I’m not paying a cent less.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He strode to the door and held it open. When she passed by, he murmured, “Ya know I don’t like demandin’ women, right?”

  “Shame. You could use one.” She went right up to the bar and sat, relieved when he turned up the one lamp still lit. At least now she could see his features. “Maybe one day you’ll get one and keep her.”

  He snorted and almost slammed the cups on the bar. “And you’ll get married one day, too.”

  “Touché.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, just pour.” The second her glass was full, she tossed it back. When he filled it the second time, his eyebrow raised and she took care to be slower about picking it up. “So why Graham?”

  “Just because.” He slammed his drink back, and refilled his glass immediately. “I gotta have a reason why?”

  “Touchy. I was just curious.”

  “It’s a business matter.”

  “Of course, and my simple female mind couldn’t handle it.” She took a swig of her whiskey. “Fine. You choose a topic.”

  “I don’t like talking.”

  “You are a sad, sad man.”

  Cole finished off his second whiskey and tapped the bar. “Two dimes. Then get out.”

  She had no idea what nerve she’d touched, but it had flared him into defensive mode and brought out the attitude he’d been rumored to have. Rather than argue, she fished two dimes out of her reticule and set them on the counter. “Good night, Cole.”

  “Wait.” He circled the bar and grasped her neck in his str
ong hand. In an instant she realized she could be in over her head, rumor was one of the men in charge at the saloon had hit a whore or two.

  Without realizing it, she’d held her breath, and gasped for air when her lungs grew tight. Before she could fight him off and walk away, though, he yanked her close. The kiss surprised her enough to allow him instant access to her mouth, which he plundered with fevered intensity.

  Every inch of her came alive and her hesitation flew out the doors. She slid her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with equal fire.

  He pulled her off the stool, her body pressed against his so she could feel his excitement pressed against her belly. She moaned and reached to tug his shirt free of his trousers. The moment her fingers brushed his flesh, he returned her moan in kind.

  When he released her, he licked his swollen lips and grinned. “Your debt is repaid. Ya still wanna leave?”

  “Hell no.”

  * * * *

  The next morning, Kat woke deliciously sore. She hadn’t had this many aches in all the right places since her first encounters with Patrick. Cole lived up to his reputation, and more. He’d been voracious, like an animal in only the best way.

  She was, however, rather surprised that he still lay beside her. If anything, she’d expected him to high-tail it out of the room once their enjoyment was complete. He’d receive no complaint from her for remaining; she enjoyed the feeling of his strong, hard body against hers.

  Of course, she held no grand romantic illusions about their current situation. There was no way the man currently moving in for another round would ever be more than a conquest for her, or she for him. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy every second, and she certainly intended to.

  Unfortunately, a crash outside the room startled them both to sitting and pulled Cole’s marvelously skilled wandering hands from her flesh.

  “Damn,” he cursed. “Was hopin’ for a better start to the day.”

  “You’re not the only one,” she agreed. After a yawn, she stretched until her back curved. Another crash drew their gazes to the door. “What in heaven is that?”

  “I’m gonna find out. Ain’t your ladies already is it?”