by Scott, Tarah
She slipped a pre-rolled cigarette from the silver holder in her clutch. After a deep inhale, she almost felt like herself.
A noise to the left startled her. Someone stepped from the deep shadows of the stable. “Are you following me?” She put her hand over her heart, trying to calm its racing.
Train stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss Young. I was enjoying your company until you up and left. Figured I owed you an apology for something I said.”
She waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “I’m not easily offended.” She inclined her head, debating whether to say something. “Actually, you could make it up to me if you’d go over there,” she said, pointing to a group of men. “And get me a glass of whiskey. Not a little glass,” she said, using her thumb and index finger to demonstrate. “But more like that.” She pointed to a woman drinking a tumbler of lemonade. “Since you are aware of my disreputable occupation,” she said with a teasing smile, “you can understand why I would not want to embarrass my best friend on her wedding day by drinking whiskey and smoking tobacco. But Train, if I don’t get a drink, I’ll have to hide in my room. I’m not used to proper womenfolk, just whores. I admit, I’m a touch jittery.”
An easy grin spread across his face. “Whiskey?”
“Yes, with ice.”
If TJ had it to offer, who was she not to enjoy some of his hospitality? She didn’t often get the chance to have ice in her drink. Her life didn’t afford such lavishness. No, her room at the brothel stayed cold in the winter and muggy in the summer. Dirty miners, whiskey breath, and a share of the money she earned, her life wasn’t one of luxury. Luckily, Allison never had to know hardship in the brothel. TJ got her out.
Train looked over his shoulder at her as he walked away.
Marion winked.
Train approached the makeshift bar. He leaned forward to reach a tumbler. TJ said something. Too distracted by the woman waiting in the shadow, Train didn’t hear clearly. “What was that?” He finally pulled himself into the conversation.
“How’re you doing?” TJ poured himself a whiskey.
“Fine.” Train turned in the direction where Marion waited again.
“It’s customary for the best man to dance with the bride. Sugar’s looking for you. Where’s Marion? She’s supposed to save a dance for me, but I haven’t seen her.”
“Joseph--” Allison curtsied and grabbed his elbow. “Dance with me.”
“Here.” He handed Marion’s drink to TJ. “She’s behind the stable,” he said. Allison dragged him onto the dance floor. He paused, listening to the band music, and then began their dance.
“You look beautiful,” Train said, with his arm around Allison, a woman with whom he once fancied himself in love. They waltzed across the wooden dance floor. Tiny white flowers adorned the loose knot of hair on the back of her head. Her small frame and delicate features contradicted TJ’s working man’s build. Funny how looking at her as someone else’s wife changed the way he felt. “I don’t need to ask if you’re happy. I can see you made the right decision to marry TJ.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re not angry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“It wasn’t a mortal wound. Tell me about Marion.” He twirled her.
“If you want to know if she works in the traditional way, the answer is yes.”
“She made that clear. I know you couldn’t do it. Marion talks as if she enjoys her work.”
“Maybe that’s true. She accepts where life has led her.” She slowed their dance and looked hard into his eyes. “Sandy’s brothel is better than where Marion came from. She might be a whore, but I think she is the finest quality person.” Train led her in another direction on the dance floor. “I will say she’s outspoken to a fault,” Allison said. “If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask the question. You’ve been watching her?”
“She’s nice to look at. I bet she’s busy at the brothel.”
“Yes, she is.”
* * * * *
TJ found Marion leaning against the stable. “It’s a custom for the maid of honor to dance with the groom.”
She stepped away from the wall and straightened her skirt. “My apologies, Mr. Bester.” She searched for the right words. “I guess I’m just not accustomed to keeping polite company.”
He chuckled. “We’ve spoken enough for you to feel at ease calling me TJ.” He handed her the tumbler of whiskey. “Everyone’s a bit uncomfortable. Well, except Allison. A week long engagement doesn’t give a body much time to prepare.”
She tipped the tumbler, drank, and emptied it. “The girl doesn’t waste any time once she knows what she wants. She told me the story of how you met.”
“I admit I almost hired her when she showed up on my doorstep looking for work as a ranch hand.” He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t thinking of working her in the fields.”
“I’m certain you were thinking of how she could work up a sweat.”
“I’m sure you’re right, although you’ll never get me to admit it to her.” He put his hand on Marion’s lower back. “I want my dance.” He escorted her across the yard to the dance floor.
TJ whispered to Marion, “I see you’ve attracted someone’s interest. Care to trade partners?”
Marion turned to see Train staring. “Absolutely,” she purred in response.
“Be gentle with him.”
Sensing his amusement, she laughed.
TJ danced them to Allison and Train. “I’ll take my wife back now.” He pulled Allison into his arms and they spun away.
Train took a deep breath as Marion stepped into his arms and continued to dance. The transition from Allison to Marion sent his heart rate into a gallop. They danced in silence. Then much too quickly, the music ended. “Thank you for the dance, ma’am.”
Marion leaned closer and whispered, “Walk with me.” She linked her arm in his. “It looks like the festivities are well under way. I doubt we’ll be missed.”
He watched her, fascinated by the way her lips moved. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Allison will notice.”
“I don’t care. Do you?” she asked.
“Hell no. Wait a minute,” he said, and then hurried to a nearby table to retrieve his cowboy hat. “Let’s go.”
Marion took the bottle of champagne from the middle of the table, smiled, and linked her arm in his. He stared at her fingers against his flesh. Like the heat of a branding iron, he felt her touch.
The ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked past the stables. They passed another large building. “The Shack,” Train said, nodding toward the open door. “It’s where Cake cooks the grub, and where those of us who don’t have families and homesteads bunk.”
They walked, the sounds of the reception fading into the night air. Train found it impossible to ignore the sway of her hips. Damn, she was pretty. He’d never disrespected a woman, not even in his mind. But Marion had his thoughts running wild. His cock was hard and his balls were tight. She smelled like heaven and looked like sin. But she was a whore and he’d never wanted to bed a whore before. Whore or not, a woman deserved to be respected.
Once, he thought marriage to a woman like Allison suited him. Refined and delicate, Allison was a kind of woman who needed protection. Perhaps they could’ve been happy with children, and a little spread of their own. But even with Allison, there had never been this frisson of desire. Raw and aggressive. Damn, but he wanted Marion. What in the hell was wrong with him? TJ used to bed whores. TJ’s father used bed whores, Train refused. Yet there was an intense awareness prickling his skin. He could tell she was doing to him what she did best. Men were business.
Silence stretched out between them.
“What are you worrying about, Train? Are you simply curious or is there some other reason you’re interested?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do. I bet you want to say exactly what�
�s on your mind, but don’t know if you should.” She issued the challenge with a touch of humor in her voice. “I noticed you when Sandy and I first arrived. During the ceremony, you purposely stood next to me, and ever since, I haven’t been able to escape your company. Not that I mind. Truthfully, I love to be the focus of a handsome gentleman’s attention.”
Train pulled a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and rolled a cigarette. “Allison told me you like it when a person is straightforward. I’ve tried to be honest with women in the past. Most don’t really want to hear the truth.”
“I’m not like other women,” she said, taking the cigarette and putting it between her lips. “You don’t have to mind your manners with me.” She exhaled. “Let’s sit over there.” She pointed to a large tree. Prairie grass grew knee-high in the shade. Train stomped down a place for them to sit.
“You were telling me why every time I turn around I see those beautiful eyes staring at me.” She sat and smoothed her dress around her legs.
“Never been referred to as beautiful before.” He chuckled. “Those words are best used to describe you.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“And if I was?”
“I’d say it isn’t necessary.” She winked and took a hearty swallow of champagne before handing him the bottle.
“Marion, you’re a hard woman to figure out. You look like a lady, but you act like a man.”
She laughed. “Better than acting like a lady and looking like a man.”
He took a drink and set the bottle between them. “Why did you bring me out here?” he asked, leaning back, the rough bark of the tree biting into his back.
She picked a long blade of grass that had gone to seed along the top. “Because I was uncomfortable with the women at the reception knowing I was a whore trying to look like a lady attending their party.” She looked out into the softening glow of approaching night. Crickets chirped in cadence while a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above them. “Allison has always been a respectable lady. She’s never had to pretend. I’m not very good at pretending to be something I’m not.”
He looked at her expensive dress, and perfectly coiffed hair. Little blue stones sparkled in her ears. “No one knows you’re anything, but a lady. You look beautiful. I would’ve loved the honor of being your escort today.”
She smiled. “That’s a nice thing to say. However, you know I do my socializing at night.”
“Marion, if you wanted to walk away from the whorehouse and live a respectable life, could you?”
“Maybe, but I won’t.” She helped herself to more champagne. “Not all the womenfolk working in the brothel chose it. Sandy did, and I’ve made the best out of the hand life dealt me.” She leaned in and whispered, “Let’s be honest, Train. It is nice of you to be so kind. I’m far from naive. Today has been…different from my normal day. I got to see how the other half lives. And you know what? I don’t want it.”
“A family?”
Her eyes clouded over and the smile left her face. She shook her head.
“I don’t see the point of living like you do. Why wouldn’t you want a better life?”
“Stop Train, I like my life just fine.” She held up a hand, closing the conversation. “I can’t see living as you do any more than you could be in my line of work.” She leaned in close. “I like you. I think you like me.” Her lips split into a smile. “Don’t you really want to know if you can kiss me?” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his.
“It’s good to want. It drives a man to strive to be better.”
“I like instant gratification. Why want when you can have?” She barely touched his lips with her own.
Train placed his hands on her shoulders and gently glided his mouth over hers. His limited experience hadn’t prepared him for her assault upon his lips. Her mouth opened under his. Her tongue stroked his upper lip. Surprised, he pushed her away. “Damn, Marion!”
“What?” she asked. “Surely you’ve been kissed by a woman before. A man shouldn’t always have to be the seducer.” She ran her hand down his chest. “I’ll bet you’ve left a trail of broken hearts across Montana.”
“Not one, because I take it slow.”
“I don’t like it slow. I like it fast…and hard.”
“I swear, do you say everything that comes into your mind?”
She tilted her head and smiled wickedly. “Actually, I bite my tongue most of the time.”
“It’s your tongue that gets you in trouble.”
She took his cowboy hat from his head. “I like the sound of that.” She pressed her lips to his. Once again, he pushed her away.
“There’s a time when you need to let a man play his part.”
Her eyes dropped to the front of his trousers. “I know that part.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” He ran his hand down his jaw.
“Maybe not, but this is me, Train. I say what I think, and I do what I want. All night you’ve been a perfect gentleman. Don’t expect me to act like a lady.”
“Ladies don’t kiss men they just met. And if I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t have wanted you to.”
“But you do. So perhaps we’re perfect for each other. I really don’t want to be a lady, and I’m glad you’re not a gentleman.”
He wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her into him. At first, his kiss was tentative, caressing her mouth more than kissing it. He sipped at her lips until she opened for him. Sliding his tongue against hers, he tantalized further. She was hot and tasted of whiskey and tobacco.
Their gazes locked as they pulled apart. Gently she wiped a smudge of lip color from the edge of his mouth. The tip of her tongue licked her upper lip.
He reached out and touched the spot on her neck where he could see her pulse racing. “We should head back, before I forget I am a gentleman.”
Her hand stilled on his. “Train, we can stay here,” she said. “I don’t want tonight to end. Tomorrow will be busy and we won’t have the privacy we do now. Neither one of us has a reason why we shouldn’t do whatever we want.”
He shook his head. “I know TJ went to Sandy. I was with him most of the time, but you never saw me in your brothel because I don’t go with whores.”
Smack! The sting of her hand burned his face.
“I didn’t mean I don’t want to be with you.” He grabbed her hand before she could slap him again. “Marion, I want to get to know you, not hire you.”
“I didn’t ask for payment.”
“I’d feel like I’d owe you.” He ran his hand through his hair and replaced his cowboy hat. “Let’s go back.”
Allison and TJ had left the festivities by the time they returned.
“Sandy must have gone to bed,” Marion said, glancing around.
“I’ll walk you to the house.” He put his hand on her waist.
“Did you forget, Train? This is morning for me.” She left him staring at her back and made her way to the bar. Several men stood around socializing while most of the women had returned to their homes to put their children to bed.
Train watched a man tip his hat, and then pour her a drink. A moment later, the man laughed and lit her cigarette.
Train went to the stables and saddled a horse. He didn’t want to watch Marion drum up business with his friends. His clenched gut and grinding teeth gave a good indication the young woman had his interest. Seems she had everyone else’s as well.
Chapter Two
Train rode hard until he reached the edge of the lake bordering the ranch to the north. Cattle grazed on the grassy hillside. Off in the distance, fields of irrigated crops grew in rows as far as he could see into the horizon.
He had always been content with his place in life. Work on the ranch kept him from getting lonely, until Allison. For the first time, he was jealous of TJ. Not because he got the girl they both wanted, or because TJ owned a prosperous ranch. To Train, TJ seemed to have the world in the palm of his hand. Train wanted
the sweet taste of success on his lips.
Roosters were welcoming the dawn when Train left the horse back in the stables. He entered the shack to eat breakfast with the men. A loud, raucous laugh erupted from the corner. It appeared the wedding party was still going strong for a few.
“Cake, you got any coffee?” he asked the round man behind the stove.
Cake cracked eggs into a large bowl with his pudgy fingers. “Help yourself.” He nodded to the stove. Another loud round of laughter echoed off the walls.
“What’s going on over there?” Train asked, sipping hot coffee.
“Sugar’s girlfriend is winning the shirts off Charlie and a couple of the boys. Been at it most of the night. Surprised the hell out of me. She drank six men unconscious.”
“You’re talking about Allison’s friend Marion?”
He nodded. “That’d be the one.”
Train set the coffee down and joined the group of men watching the poker game.
Marion sat with one foot propped up on the chair next to her. She rolled a cigar between her lips. Smoke trailed in a thin ribbon to the ceiling. Tossing a couple coins into the center of the table, she called the bet. Her cards stayed folded close to her bosom. The man sitting behind her desperately tried to see the hand she held.
Train felt prickles along the back of his neck as she tipped a glass of beer to her lips. She had complete command of the group. Her dress wrinkled, her hair disheveled under a borrowed cowboy hat, enhanced the satisfaction in her twinkling eyes.
“Fold,” the man facing her said, and tossed his cards on the table, throwing his arms wide in defeat.
“Another hand?” Her silky voice held a challenge.
Marion attempted to slide the coins into her pile. The man reached out, took her hand, and brushed his lips and mustache against her knuckles.
Train watched the exchange, his temper darkening like ominous thunderclouds on a muggy summer afternoon. He approached the table.
