Sweet Laurel

by Millie Criswell

  And if he publicly acknowledged the child, as he planned to do, then it wouldn’t be labeled a bastard, wouldn’t be thought of as unwanted. His own legitimacy certainly hadn’t prevented him from being unloved and unwanted.

  Chance entered the room, then stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Laurel reclining against the pillows, wearing a white lace gown so sheer that it left nothing to the imagination. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he said, slamming the door behind him. “What if it hadn’t been me?” The thought was too unsettling even to consider.

  Laurel laughed seductively, and the pleasing sound rippled along his spine. “What took you so long? I’ve missed you.” She patted the bed.

  Chance didn’t need a second invitation, and he began to strip out of his clothes. His fingers paused on the bone buttons of his shirt, and he retraced his steps to lock the door. “There—now we won’t have to worry about being disturbed.”

  As he removed his shirt and tossed it onto the chair, Laurel’s eyes feasted on the muscled planes of his naked chest. Unable to resist, she slid off the bed and moved toward him. “You’re a very handsome man, but I suppose you know that.” Her hands moved over him, her fingers exploring the dark pelt of hair, then trailing over his rock-hard abdomen, while her tongue made circles around his nipples. “Mmmm,” she said. “I can see why you like doing this to me.”

  He sucked in his breath, surprised by her aggressiveness, and wondered if this was one of the things she’d learned from Crystal and Flora Sue. “God, Laurel, you’re killing me!” he choked out, feeling his member swell painfully close to bursting.

  Laurel’s hands moved down to the fastening of his pants. “I want you, Chance.” There was an urgency in her voice he hadn’t heard before as she unbuttoned the copper studs on his jeans, but he was too caught up in the moment to pay it any mind.

  Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her the short distance to the bed. “I love you, Laurel. I love you so much it hurts.”

  “Then show me,” she urged, pulling the nightgown up and over her head to reveal her nakedness. “Show me now.”

  “Jesus!”

  Chance lowered himself onto the bed and pulled her into his embrace. Clasping her head between his hands, he kissed her with all the longing and love his heart contained, then trailed his tongue down her neck, her chest, savoring the sensitive, swollen nubs of her breasts.

  “Chance,” she moaned, her head lolling from side to side. “Please! I want you.”

  Cupping her mound, he moved the heel of his hand over the sensitive bud of her femininity until she squirmed restlessly beneath it. “You’re torturing me!” But it was sweet torture.

  His head moved lower, his tongue entering to taste the nectar of her womanhood, and Laurel thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Over and over he flicked the rigid bud, teasing and tormenting, until she cried out; “Stop! I can’t take any more.”

  Positioning her legs over his shoulders, Chance entered her, moving deep within her core. “Take it, angel,” he demanded, sliding in and out, harder and faster. “Take it all.”

  “Oh, God! Oh, God!” She climaxed instantly, as did Chance, who promptly collapsed on top of her.

  Sated, they lay back against the pillows; nestled in each other’s arms, and in that moment Chance felt more complete than he’d ever felt in his life. “I love you, Laurel. I always will.”

  His tender words brought tears to her eyes and a heaviness to her heart. “Chance, I . . .” She wanted so desperately to tell him about the baby, but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I love you, too.”

  “Things will work out for us, angel. You’ll see.”

  Laurel’s heart ached for all that could be, but wouldn’t, and she caressed his cheek.

  I’ll miss you, she said silently.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Why didn’t she just rip out my guts with her bare hands? It would’ve had the same result.” Slurring the maudlin words, Chance leaned heavily on his forearms, shaking his head as he clutched the note Laurel had left behind.

  She was gone. She’d left for Kansas on the noon train, and there was nothing left for him now but regret and self-pity. Her departing words were firmly embedded in his memory:

  I’ll miss you, Chance. I’ve waited longer to leave than I should have in the hope that you’d reconsider and ask for my hand in marriage. I’m truly sorry that your fears had to come between us. I love you, but it’s over between us. I have a child to consider. I have to make a new life for myself.

  Take good care of yourself. And take care of Bertha, Jup, and Whitey. They’ll need you now more than ever.

  “Is Chance sick?” Whitey asked, a worried look on his face as he stared down at the body slumped before him. “He sure looks sick, sick, sick.”

  Augustus sighed dispiritedly and shook his head, wondering why some men were such blind fools. Thank the good Lord he’d had sense enough to propose marriage to Crystal. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without her.

  “Your cousin isn’t sick, Whitey. He’s corned . . . drunk, I’m afraid.”

  “Laurel!” Chance cried out suddenly, banging his fist on the table, then sweeping his arm forward to knock the glasses there onto the floor. “Laurel, come back, goddammit!”

  Whitey looked at Gus with what seemed to be a deep understanding in the depths of his blue eyes. “Chance is sad because Miss Laurel left. Why did Miss Laurel leave, Gus?”

  Wrapping a comforting arm about the man’s shoulders, Gus offered a suggestion he hoped Whitey would take. It wasn’t up to him to explain the workings of the heart; he had enough trouble with the soul. “Why don’t you go ask Bertha to brew a pot of coffee? That might help to make Chance feel better.” Though Gus doubted that the cook was going to care much how Chance felt. She’d called the gambler an assortment of colorful, derogatory names upon learning that Laurel had left—names that had made Augustus’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right, Augustus?” Crystal asked, feeling both heartsick and furious at seeing Chance so upset. “I’ve never seen him drunk before.”

  “Women have that effect on a man,” Rooster piped in, eyeing his friend with distaste. “But I say he deserves the heartache and the headache he’s going to have come morning. He never should have let that little girl leave without asking her to marry him. I never thought Chance Rafferty would act like a coward, or be such a goddamn fool. Pardon my French, Reverend,” he added as an afterthought, smiling sheepishly.

  “Just you remember that, Rooster Higgins,” Flora Sue cautioned. “I expect to be standing up at the altar any day now.”

  The banging on the door brought a frown to the bartender’s face. “We’re closed,” Bull shouted, waving the patron away. “Death in the family.” They all stared at the desolate look on the gambler’s face and nodded at the veracity of the pronouncement.

  “He’ll grieve for a while yet,” Gus said. “Let’s get him up to bed.”

  * * *

  The next morning Chance woke up with the worst hangover of his life, a tongue fuzzier than a three-month-old orange, and a mind clearer than a mountain stream.

  He was going after Laurel, he’d decided. He was going after the woman he loved; he was going to marry her; and he was going to be the best damn husband and father this world had ever laid eyes on.

  But first he was going after Al Hazen. That man had a lot to answer for: the fire that almost killed Laurel; all the beatings and cruelty Crystal had endured at his hands; the destruction of Laurel’s reputation and position with the league.

  The bastard would not go unscathed, Chance vowed.

  “Bertha,” he bellowed, strutting into the kitchen like a cock into the henhouse. “How’s my favorite woman this morning?” He walked right up to the angry cook, despite the frying pan she clutched, and kissed her on the cheek, making her gasp.

  “Is you touched in the head or just plain stupid? I done told you ye
sterday that I ain’t talking to you no more.”

  “Not even if I bring Laurel back and marry her?”

  Her eyes widened, and she dropped the cast-iron skillet to the floor, splattering bacon grease and almost crushing her toes in the process. “Is you touched, or is it me, Mr. Chance? I thought I heard you say you was going after Miss Laurel.”

  Hugging the large woman to his chest, he kissed her soundly on the lips. “That’s what I said, Bertha my love. I’m going to make an honest woman of Laurel. After I rid this town of Al Hazen.”

  Bertha’s elation fizzled faster than curls in the rain. “I ain’t saying he don’t deserve his comeuppance, Mr. Chance, but you gots more important considerations right now. You gots to get Miss Laurel back.”

  Grabbing a slice of hot, crisp bacon off the plate, he took a bite and grinned. “Leave everything to me. I’ve got a plan to end all plans.”

  “Hmph!” she said with no small amount of skepticism, crossing her beefy arms over her chest. “Men is always makin’ plans, makin’ war, makin’ love, but they never does what they’s supposed to when they’s supposed to. Why’d you let her leave, Mr. Chance? That girl loves you somethin’ powerful.”

  Her question made the pulse at his temples start throbbing again, and Chance rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pain. “I was scared. Scared of marriage. Scared of fatherhood. Scared of bringing change to my life. But you know what I discovered I was most scared of, Bertha?” She shook her head. “I was most scared of living my life without Laurel. I love her, Bertha; I really do. I was just too stupid to realize how much.”

  The black woman started to cry, and Chance threw his arm about her shoulders, trying to console her. And that’s how Crystal and Flora Sue found them.

  “What’d you say to her, Chance Rafferty?” Crystal demanded, advancing on him like an avenging angel, her eyes flashing fire. “Isn’t it bad enough you made Laurel’s life miserable? Now are you trying to ruin Bertha’s as well?”

  Bertha and Chance exchanged grins, then Chance grasped Crystal’s wrist and said, “Come on. I’m going to need your help before I can go after the woman I love.” Wide-eyed and speechless, Crystal darted a confused look at Flora Sue and Bertha as she followed Chance out the door.

  Shaking her head, Flora Sue stared after the departing couple. “Is his brain pickled or what? I know he had a lot to drink last night, but that’s no excuse . . .”

  “Oh, hush, Miss Flora,” Bertha chided, a smile of pure pleasure on her face. “That boy knows what he’s about. And it’s about time, too!”

  * * *

  The train came to a screeching, smoke-belching halt, and Laurel cursed the fates that were conspiring against her reaching her destination.

  Trains were definitely not her favorite mode of transportation. Her back ached from sitting upright all night in the uncomfortable seat, her stomach churned from the disgusting meal she’d been served, and now the conductor was saying something about flash floods and impassable tracks and Lord knew what else.

  This was definitely the worst trip she’d ever taken. Certainly the saddest. There hadn’t been a moment when she hadn’t thought of Chance and how much she missed him. If only . . .

  Stop it, Laurel! You’ve played the fool long enough. It’s time to grow up now.

  Her conviction was sorely tested when the child across the aisle stuck out his tongue at her, and Laurel was tempted to respond in kind. Only the fact that his mother appeared to outweigh her by some three hundred pounds kept her from reacting.

  “Patience and kindness are always rewarded, Laurel,” her mama had always said. But Laurel was having some rather serious doubts about her mama’s platitudes and predictions at the moment, and wondered for the thousandth time what everyone back in Denver was doing.

  * * *

  Dressed in her gaudiest, lowest-cut red satin gown, Crystal approached the Silver Slipper Saloon with a great deal of trepidation. If Chance’s plan was going to work, she had to convince Al that she was finished with the polite, respectable side of life and was ready and willing to resume their former relationship.

  She swallowed at the idea of letting Al touch her again. She had absolutely no intention of sullying her relationship with Gus, but she was going to have to be convincing enough to make Al believe that she missed him and still desired him.

  She had to make him trust her.

  It would have to be the performance of her life. But she’d pretended before with sweaty miners, with rich, egocentric bankers, and with cowboys out for a night on the town. She’d convinced them all that she enjoyed their rutting, uncaring abuse of her body. She prayed that she’d be able to convince Al, as well.

  Pearl would be a problem. She knew that the possessive woman had her hooks sunk tight into Al, that the whore had replaced Crystal in Al’s bed. Pearl would definitely be a problem. But after the way Laurel had described Pearl’s cruel treatment of her, Crystal thought it was one complication she’d rather enjoy fixing.

  “Well, Crystal! I’ll be damned. What brings you back here?” Zeke Mullins smiled with genuine pleasure. “We sure have missed your pretty face around here.”

  She patted the bartender’s cheek, noted his blush—Zeke had always been such a dear man—and pasted on her most engaging smile. “Is Al around, honey? I’ve come for a little surprise reunion.”

  As quickly as it had appeared, the smile melted off Zeke’s face. “You’re not going back to him, are you, Crystal? You know what he’s like.”

  “Don’t worry about me, honey. I can take care of myself. Now where is he?”

  With a look of disappointment, Zeke pointed to the stairs. “He’s still in bed, and he ain’t alone.”

  Though her smile was full of self-confidence, Crystal’s stomach was churning enough to make butter. “Why, knowing Al the way I do, Zeke, I suspected as much.” With a wink, she picked up her skirts and said, heading for the stairs, “Wish me luck.”

  Ordering her hands to quit shaking so pitifully, Crystal paused before Al’s room and took a deep breath, then knocked three times before she had a chance to change her mind.

  She heard the squeak of bedsprings and a few muffled curses, then the door was yanked open. Pearl stood in the threshold, wearing little more than a frown and a stained satin wrapper, looking for all the world like the whore she was.

  It could be me. Crystal forced herself not to cringe at the thought and smiled haughtily. “Is Al here? I’d like to speak to him.” She didn’t miss the hatred in the whore’s eyes.

  “Who is it, Pearl?” Al’s gruff voice carried into the hallway.

  Pearl’s smile was malevolent. “It’s your old whore, sugar. She says she wants to talk to you.”

  Crystal’s eyes narrowed slightly, but brightened when they landed on her former pimp and lover. “Hello, Al. It’s been a long time.” She saw the pleasure in his eyes before he had a chance to conceal it, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Al still wanted her.

  Belting his flannel robe, Al turned to Pearl and said, “Take a hike, I’ve got company.”

  The whore turned on him, hissing like a snake ready to strike. “Why, you . . . !” But at the ominous look of warning he cast her, Pearl cut off what she was going to say and brushed past Crystal, nearly knocking the younger woman into the door.

  “I do believe I’ve upset Pearl. And that was never my intention,” Crystal said, removing her shawl and allowing it to slip gently through her fingers onto a nearby chair. “You’re looking well, honey. I’ve missed you.”

  “What’s the matter? Ain’t the reverend sticking it to you enough?” Al laughed at his vulgar jest, and Crystal wanted to scratch his eyes out, but instead she laughed, too, hating herself for what she was about to say.

  “Gus is sickly.” She ran a red-lacquered fingernail over his bare chest. “A woman like me needs more of a man. Gus can’t satisfy me.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her roughly, and Crystal thought she was going to retch. �
��No man can please like I do, babe. You should know that by now.”

  She broke out of his embrace. “But it looks like you’ve found someone who can please you, Al.” She added just a hint of jealousy to her words.

  “You mean Pearl?” His look was almost incredulous. “She can’t hold a candle to you, babe. But a man’s got to have release, and she is a whore after all.”

  Good old Al. Always loyal to the end. And vicious. She’d noticed the bruises on Pearl’s face and arms.

  “So if I was of a mind to come back here, I’d be welcome?” she asked, her eyebrow raised in question.

  Al couldn’t hide the elation he felt. “You know there’s never been anyone for me but you, babe. But what brings about this sudden change of heart? I thought you had given up whoring and the like. Word has it that you’re looking for respectability.” He practically sneered the word, as if it were something vile. And to Al, Crystal guessed, it probably was.

  “I’ve had my fill of respectability. Those temperance bitches dealt Laurel a dirty deal, forcing her to leave, just because she went and got herself with child.”

  “I guess Rafferty’s pretty upset she’s gone.” That thought obviously pleased Al to no end.

  Crystal shrugged. “Chance is like most men. He liked the fun but not the responsibility. Although . . .” She paused for dramatic effect, patting the sides of her hair. “Chance has been acting a bit odd lately.”

  “What do you mean—odd? I always thought the bastard was damned peculiar. He built a goddamn church, for chrissake!”

  “Well, maybe Laurel’s leaving did have more of an effect on him than he’s let on. He’s been talking about adding on to the Aurora, bringing in whores to work, redecorating the place to make it more elegant.”

  Crystal almost laughed aloud at the horrified expression on Al’s face. Her former employer didn’t have anywhere near the resources to compete with Chance. And if Chance carried through with his plans, it would put Al right out of business.