Annabelle Weston Page 3

  The other ladies emerged from their rooms. Big Judith cackled and pressed her huge breasts together. “I’ll make the sheriff happy he took the job.”

  Miss Lorraine frowned. “I saw him first.”

  Blanche plumped up her ginger hair. “He was staring at me when he first arrived.”

  Carly had no time to listen to their quibbling. “I’m having a bath. By the time I’m finished you all should be assembled downstairs in your Sunday finest.”

  Ester regarded her from the doorway with a solemn expression.

  “That includes you, Ester.”

  Ester rocked on her feet and then scurried down the hallway.

  * * * * *

  Carly reckoned the six ladies of the Lonesome made quite a sight bustling down the boardwalk, twirling their parasols. When dressed their most modest, her dollies’ gowns were still more provocative than the other ladies of the territory. Bodices cut low, waists cinched tight—a lift of the skirt when traversing the street—most men turned their heads in appreciation.

  With a dab of rouge on their lips and cheeks and kohl-blackened eyes, there was no mistaking who they were.

  Town women held on to their husbands tighter and slapped their sons on the backs of their heads for gawking too long. Those women’s mouths puckered and they stuck their noses in the air as they scurried in the opposite direction. Almost as if the dollies had a disease—and if they should breathe the same air—it would surely infect them.

  Why would Carly mind? She’d been a saloon dolly since she was fourteen. She’d known no other kind of life and considered these saloon ladies her family, even when their bickering frayed her nerves.

  The wide street was filled with wagons and freighters filled with all kinds of goods. Scents of cooking came from the Inn and the air was sultry—a welcome desert scent. The town had a look of prosperity. Being a business owner, Carly was proud to be part of its good fortune.

  Tucson’d been needing a new sheriff. A growing town depended on law and order. Plenty of no-good men—like the two who’d beaten her—had taken advantage of the vulnerable town. Shooting, looting, gunfights. Indeed, she was glad they had a sheriff, and man who might bring a measure of safety.

  She considered it her civic duty to welcome him. She had to admit she was curious about the man. He’d carried her upstairs but hadn’t stayed. After talking with Alvin, she found out he’d only asked for a cup of coffee and had paid good money for a glass of water.

  There was another reason she needed to pay this call. Alvin had also told her how he cleared out the saloon with his threat to take her customers’ firearms. A lawman who was bad for business was no good to her. She would have to set the sheriff straight on a few things. He could clean up the town for sure but messing with her saloon was another story.

  Her steps faltered when she saw him. He’d come out of the sheriff’s office and stood in the lengthening shadows. There was no mistaking the shiny star pinned to his vest. He was lean and muscular, with wide shoulders, long limbs. A gun belt hung low on his hips and showed the distinct bulge of his cock, of a size she very much appreciated. Her blood rushed to her chest. He crossed the street, walking with the swagger of a man in charge.

  When the sheriff spotted a gaggle of town women headed his way, he stopped and removed his hat—looking slightly amused. A good-natured man, Carly decided. His dark hair reached his collar but his chiseled jaw was clean shaven, showing off lips she’d like to lick.

  She took a deep, slow breath, liking a little too much what she saw. She would truly enjoy some bed play with him. And just like the snap of fingers, she decided she would entice this new lawman into her bed—and the sooner the better.

  Carly waited until the town ladies moved on down the boardwalk. Those woman chattered amiably. Whatever this new sheriff had said had put them in a good mood.

  She strolled past the storefronts, in no particular hurry. No sense letting the man think she was eager to make his acquaintance. Such a notion would give him inflated ideas about his manly skills.

  As she approached, there was no doubt his manly skills were considerable.

  “Howdy Sheriff,” she said, jutting her hip out provocatively and batting her eyelashes.

  He tipped his hat, a sexy smile curving those luscious lips. “Ladies.”

  She couldn’t help but curl her tongue slowly across her mouth, thinking about his lips pressed to hers. “My name is Carly Buchanan. I gather we’ve met.”

  His grin grew wide and a twinkle centered in his dark brown eyes. “We have.”

  She stepped closer, trailing her finger over the tin star and then the buttons of his shirt, down to his belly. “You have me at a disadvantage,” she said in a velvety voice calculated to incite a man’s baser instincts. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “So I do. Name’s Jeddah Poole.” He gripped her wrist, but gently, and pulled her hand away.

  When he spoke, his voice was gruff, showing she’d affected him more than he was willing to admit. Lust darkened his gaze. His smile faded into something so carnal, Carly shuddered.

  Her gaze traveled down to his crotch where his cock had grown to an impressive size. She’d only meant to glance but was delighted how it strained against the buttons of his britches.

  She blinked then glanced back up at his eyes. He surveyed her with a man’s need to fuck. She’d seen many a cowboy in such a condition. They came into the saloon after a day of hard work. Some hadn’t been with a woman in a long while. She wondered how long had it been since Jeddah Poole was with a woman?

  Satisfied he was a man she could have on a whim, she slipped her wrist from his grip but trailed her fingers inside his palm.

  “I run a popular establishment. We like to provide a variety of…entertainments for our customers.”

  His lids grew heavy and he swallowed, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing. “So I found out when I arrived.”

  Again he had her at a disadvantage. She’d been so confused and sleepy, she’d not been able to properly greet this man she needed to be an ally. Having the law on your side was always for the best in the Lonesome, where customers were likely to get rowdy after a few drinks—and when some lawful citizens insisted she and her dollies be thrown out of town.

  She chewed on her bottom lip and lowered her lashes, hoping to appear coy. “We hope you won’t interfere.”

  Jed folded his arms across his wide chest. “As long as no laws are broken, I’m fine with what you do.”

  She was relieved this sheriff wasn’t a tight ass. Her curiosity was satisfied about something else. There was no doubt in her mind he liked women. She had wondered since he hadn’t ravaged her after he carried her up the stairs.

  She introduced the other dollies. Big Judith, Miss Lorraine, Gladys and Blanche. Miss Lorraine attempted a curtsy.

  “Ladies,” he said. He pulled off his Stetson. His flattened hair needed mussing.

  Ester elbowed Carly.

  “I can’t forget Ester,” she said. “She takes good care of us.”

  The sheriff cast Ester one of his smiles. “I’ve already had the pleasure.”

  Ester bobbled on wobbly knees. Her grin was as wide as the dusty road. She’d no shame at all. She’d called the sheriff handsome, and she hadn’t been far off the mark, but a woman shouldn’t show her affection, Carly had realized early in life. A man was liable to take advantage.

  “I’m sorry about this morning. I’m usually more attentive.” Carly raked him with a seductive smile. There could be no doubt in her meaning. “We girls at the Lonesome take a special interest in satisfying lawmen.”

  The other women agreed with bawdy laughter.

  “You come on over,” Big Judith said, shaking her wares. “The first poke is free.”

  Carly rolled her eyes to heaven. Big Judith just had to interrupt her conversation.

  Sheriff Poole put his hat on, a slight bit of color tingeing his cheeks. There was a surprise, a big ‘ole sheriff fighting a blus
h.

  She cast him an enticing smile. “We’ll be seeing you this evening, Sheriff?”

  His upper lip twitched. “I expect you might.”

  “Good. I look forward to a fun evening.”

  Before their talk turned too bawdy—Carly didn’t want to embarrass the man in public—she scooted her dollies away. They hadn’t gone far before she peered over her shoulder. Jed watched them like a hawk about to pounce on his prey.

  She waved as if she were a debutante. He tipped his hat. The two of them were going to get along just fine.

  * * * * *

  Jed chuckled as he watched the temptress strut down the boardwalk, the other dollies following her. Carly Buchanan surely had a way about her. She was nobody’s fool but still there was a tender innocence about her.

  He’d no doubt the woman was as hot as a chili pepper and just as volatile.

  The other ladies on the street turned their backs or pretended not to notice the procession. A twinge of resentment at the poor treatment put Jed’s back up. He knew what it was like to be an outsider, to be the subject of public ridicule and scorn. The town women were likely jealous considering the dollies probably occupied most of their husband’s spare time…but still, they could show some sympathy toward a woman who had to make her own living.

  Carly didn’t get riled but held her head high, walking as if she were royalty. Those town ladies didn’t seem to bother her at all. He wondered how a woman who looked like an angel ended up in this line of work.

  No respectable man would marry her and no woman who considered herself respectable would befriend her. Once a dolly, always a dolly. Such a notion didn’t sit well with him. But he didn’t make the rules.

  Make no mistake. He wanted her.

  He took out his watch from his vest pocket and checked the time. It was nearly six o’clock. He’d wait on the stage due to arrive any minute—make sure the money got into the bank without a hitch—and then he’d head over to the barbershop for a haircut and a shave.

  The jiggle of harnesses and hooves pounding the dirt alerted him to the stage approaching. A few seconds later, the driver came hell-bent for leather around the corner and up the street, causing people to run for the boardwalk. Dust clouds swirled around him as the team raced at a full gallop. What the heck was wrong with the man coming into town at that speed? On closer examination, Jed saw why.

  The man riding shotgun was holding his arm, his once buckskin-colored shirt turned crimson—a gaping hole in his flesh. He’d bled a considerable amount and looked close to collapsing.

  The driver shouted to the team and pulled back on the reins. The horse snorted and reared and the coach skidded to a halt.

  Jed gritted his teeth. On the job one day and already there’d been a stagecoach robbery and a guard with a bullet in him.

  Folks hurried to help. Jed stepped off the boardwalk and joined them.

  “There were five of them cocksuckers,” the driver explained. He was red-faced and breathing hard. “Shot Barney when he opened fire. He did a hell of a job but he was no match for that many tough hombres.”

  “Did they take the cash box?” the Wells Fargo agent asked.

  “Yes sir. First thing they asked for.” The driver coughed and spat over the side.

  Mr. Trumbull held the traces of the lead horse. The horses were wild-eyed and stomping the ground but his steady hand settled them down some.

  “Someone fetch the doc,” Jed ordered.

  He grasped the wounded man’s wrist and guided him off the box. The guard was weak and sat with a plop on the ground.

  “I’ll need a statement from you,” Jed said.

  The driver regarded him with watery eyes. “Who just might you be?”

  “Jeddah Poole. I’m Tucson’s new sheriff.” He tapped the star pinned to his shirt.

  “About time,” the man replied. “We’ve had a rash of robberies in the past few weeks. The criminal element seems to be getting the upper hand.”

  “It’s Vernon Crosby’s gang,” came a man’s voice.

  “Who said that?” Jed asked.

  “I did, sir.”

  Jed searched for him in the crowd. A skinny man stepped forward. “Allow me to introduce myself. Name’s Travis.”

  Jed nodded, glad the people appeared ready and willing to come forth with information. “What can you tell me about this gang?”

  “Only they’re responsible for holding up the stage. Ain’t the first time. They head over the border to Mexico. No one’s been able to catch them.”

  Jed turned to the driver. “That sound about right?”

  “Well sir, seems to me they went south.”

  “Then that’s where I’ll go.”

  The doc came running up the street carrying a black bag, his spectacles jostling on his nose. He examined his patient. “Looks like the bullet went clean through his shoulder.”

  “You think he’ll be all right?” Jed asked.

  “Appears he will,” the doc answered, cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief. “Barring infection and the like.”

  That was good news to Jed.

  “What are you going to do about this string of robberies, Sheriff?” the Wells Fargo agent asked.

  Jed had a quick answer. “Follow them to Mexico.”

  Spurs ringing, he headed for the livery.

  * * * * *

  Business was lively that evening and Carly kept a close watch on those batwing doors. It was nearly eleven when she decided Jed Poole wasn’t coming. He hadn’t exactly promised and yet she knew he’d been interested in what she had to offer. Disappointment settled like acid in her belly, a curious reaction to someone she’d just met. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to his arrival.

  She downed a whiskey shot. Alvin picked up the bottle to pour her another but she shook her head. She needed something stronger. Her thoughts turned to the letter from Placerville that’d come on the afternoon stage. She’d tucked the letter in her bodice, telling herself she was too busy to open it.

  O’Dell and her husband had settled down in a gold rush town in California. Her friend seemed so far away and yet the way she described the town and the people she’d met, Carly could imagine being there.

  Every time a letter came, Carly craved her elixir to calm her nerves. She had betrayed O’Dell and they both knew it. The pain of her guilt over what she’d done never left. O’Dell had taken care of her for a lot of years. How had Carly paid her back? When O’Dell needed her, Carly had betrayed the only friend she’d ever had. She turned her back on her. Almost ruined her own saving grace’s life. Sure enough there were plenty of times that O’Dell had cleaned her up when she was intoxicated and beaten up by a john. But the elixir had meant too much to her that last time when O’Dell needed her.

  And she still couldn’t give the stuff up. Even after that horrible time a few years back.

  Carly was a horrid person and didn’t deserve friends. Least of all one so forgiving and loving as O’Dell. For that reason, she never wrote back. She didn’t want O’Dell to be obliged. O’Dell kept writing anyway.

  She took the letter out and studied the handwriting, brushing her thumb over the “C” of her name. O’Dell always had a flare for making perfect, round letters.

  “Are you going to read it or not?” Big Judith came up behind her. Miss Lorraine came down the stairs followed by a cowboy whose hair was matted with sweat, a satiated smile on his lips. She pointed at the letter as she joined them.

  “Maybe later,” Carly said. She tossed the letter on the bar as though she didn’t care what O’Dell had to say. She itched to grab it back.

  Judith turned away in a huff. Lorraine pursed her lips. Neither of them could read. They all depended on Carly for news from O’Dell. They were as curious as Carly was but she didn’t care. Guilt riddled her conscience and the letters were only a reminder of what she’d done.

  She climbed the stairs, craving a swallow of her elixir. She’d managed t
o ignore her needs for the entire day but one sip wouldn’t hurt. And it would take away the stab of pain every time O’Dell wrote. The other girls had clients in their rooms, their grunts and groans steady, the beds squeaking in unison.

  Her room was dark and smelled musky. She parted her curtains and opened the window. The night air was cool on her bare shoulders. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  The bottle of Dr. Baxter’s Eight-Day Elixir was on the table next to her bed. She took out the cork and brought the bottle to her lips. The pungent odor quickened her pulse.

  She closed her eyes ready for the relief the elixir brought her. Just one sip, she reminded herself, to take the edge off. She tipped the bottle but came up empty. She turned the bottle upside down. There wasn’t even a drop inside.

  She frowned and took a deep breath. “Ester!”

  Shoes padded down the hall and Ester appeared in the doorway. Her normally placid expression turned sour when she saw the bottle Carly was holding.

  “Where’s the rest of my Dr. Baxter’s?” Carly tipped the bottle upside down.

  Regret flitted over Ester’s features and she tried to hide it by looking at her shoes. “Gone, I reckon.”

  Carly didn’t remember drinking the entire bottle. Had one of her customers taken a swig and finished what was left? Ester never touched the stuff. But still, something in the way Ester shifted her feet…the girl was nervous. She knew what happened to the rest of the open bottle and was afraid to tell.

  “Bring me another. I’m thirsty.”

  Ester frowned. “I’m sorry, but that was the last one.”

  Carly ground her teeth, the need for her indulgence overpowering. The craving possessed her. Beyond just enough to take the edge off. She had to have a drink. Her skin prickled like a million bugs danced along her nerves and fresh pain shot across her forehead. She wanted to shout, to stomp, to throw the bottle against the wall. She clenched her fist so hard, her nails dug deep into her palms. She gripped the bottle so tight, she feared it would shatter.

  “Go get some more.” Her voice was surprisingly steady.

  Ester twisted her skirt. “He told me not to let you drink any more, Carly. He said you didn’t need this medicine. Said you were better off without it.”