Tempting Bethany

by Stacy Reid

  Hardin chuckled. “Now gentlemen, will you agree to be with her is worth the pot on the table?” He tapped the pile of bills, and the few gold coins piled high in the center of the table. There was even a deed for a cattle farm a few miles east of the saloon. A farm that belonged to Hardin which he had been foolish to gamble with and had lost. "I'm all out of money, and I am all out of gold. Have we agreed her value surpasses money and gold?"

  A few men scoffed, but none were able to remove their eyes from the pale beauty. The west was rough and lawless, and she was something sweet and different, something they all had been wanting to sample.

  “There is a bet goin’ for who will be the first to take her upstairs. So, whoever wins this pot wins that too, I reckon that drives up her value,” Sam said, “I believe all of us here have offered you gold and coins for her services and we were denied.”

  Joshua straightened in his chair, a bit fascinated by the knowledge none had taken her upstairs before, except it seems, only Hardin. The man must be desperate to win back the deed and the monies he had lost to place her as a bet.

  “I haven’t broken her in, and I do believe she is unspoiled. Now whichever man wins will take her upstairs, but—”

  He arrested the men with that upcoming stipulation.

  “But?” Sam growled, showing too much of his interest in the girl.

  “The winner will also give me back this deed and the coins I lost,” Hardin said with an oily smile. “Unusual, yes, but if we ain’t in agreement, she is off the table, and none of you will come within an inch of her again.”

  A chorus of ‘done’ quickly echoed around the table. “How long, Hardin?” Brody once again demanded.

  Hardin grimaced, a meanness shifting in his eyes. “Half an hour and I’m being generous, gentlemen,” he said, drawing on his cheroot.

  The deputy sheriff gently placed a small chunk of gold on the table. “One hour,” he said with soft menace, and from the lustful leers of the other players, they all agreed.

  Like him, every man was acutely aware of the red-haired woman who had darted between them with such graceful ease, topping up their whiskey glasses. She seemed to be the establishment’s most coveted prize, considering all the offers made to Hardin for the past several hours to take her above stairs. From the grumbling of Sam, Joshua had gleaned that Benjamin rejected all propositions with an air of a man who had something everyone else wanted quite badly, and they had to settle with the other girls.

  Another thing he’d noticed when he’d pulled the brim of his hat low and discreetly observed her, was that she didn’t belong. At least not in the town of Liberty or even in Missouri. There was something a bit pure, a bit too sweet for the savagery of the west and the depravity of the saloon, with an upstairs floor reserved for tumbling.

  The west was not made for innocents. Yet here she was working in a saloon; a place no respectable woman would venture. Unless he was once again deceived. There had been a woman he thought innocent once, some years ago, and she had stuck a knife in his ribs and ran with his money. He hadn't chased her, for she’d had to be desperate.

  “You in, Kincaid?” George Mouton asked, licking his lips, placing a piece of gold rock on the table. There was a swift intake of breath at the display of wealth. It seemed the rumor Mouton had struck gold in a mine in California some weeks past was the truth.

  Joshua lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. It had been a long time since he’d tumbled a woman, and his interest was stirred. He would be a hypocrite to deny it. “If the lady agrees.”

  “Lady?” Hardin asked with disbelief.

  Their loud laughter echoed in the otherwise empty saloon, and she flushed. She raised her gaze from the tankard, then leveled soul stealing golden brown eyes right at Joshua, staring at him for long, silent moments.

  “Yes, if she agrees,” he murmured. “And only then.” There were some lines he would never cross. Even if she was a working girl, it didn’t prove she was willing to be tumbled by anyone at the gambling table.

  “Darlin’?” Hardin said with an oily smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’m adding you to the pot. Whichever man wins spends an hour riding between those sweet thighs of yours. And, all the money I lost tonight will be paid back by the winner. I’ll give you one hundred dollars extra for tonight’s work. What do you say?”

  “Yes,” she said softly, not meeting their gazes. There was a proud, resolute tilt to her chin.

  “Git on up above the stairs and wait on yer man. One hour and you make sure he has a darn good time, or I won’t be paying you.”

  There was the smallest of tremble on her lips, and then she squared her shoulders.

  “I’m out,” Joshua said. While he was tempted to stay and play for an hour with such a delectable beauty, it would be a long journey to the Triple K, almost five days of hard riding, and his Ma would not be pleased if Joshua missed her yearly barbecue.

  A swift intake of breath halted him, and he glanced up into wide, pleading eyes framed by long golden-red lashes. Pleading for what? For him to stay?

  “Come on, Kincaid,” Hardin said, an almost taunting gleam in his gaze. “Word is you’ve been roaming for months. That means you ain’t had a woman in a darn long time. You now hold the deed to my ranch. Give me a chance to win it back.”

  Please stay, she mouthed, and need, hot and urgent, coiled low in his gut. She did want him to win her. Why?

  “Two hours,” he said, not sure who the demand startled more.

  Pink blushed along her entire body, and Hardin released a strained chuckle. She licked her lip, a quick dart of her tongue in apparent nervousness.

  “Two hours, it is, Kincaid.”

  Joshua arched a brow. How strange for a working girl to blush.

  "Well, let's play boys," Hardin said, smiling, for whether he lost this hand or not, he had apparently won.

  Joshua was left feeling vaguely troubled. It was not unusual for saloon owners to add their working girls to any pot, but he kept coming back to her obvious innocence. How was it that she was at Liberty, and working as a saloon girl? He glanced at her, mildly surprised to find her staring toward his darkened corner, her large brown eyes not entirely focusing on his.

  He shifted slightly, and those soft eyes probed the dark. And suddenly, inexplicably, Joshua wanted to be the one to take her upstairs more than he needed to wander and feel the open skies on his skin.

  Chapter 2

  Dear God, Bethany was going to faint.

  If any man won this round of poker, her bastard of a husband would regain the deed he had lost to a ranch that he suspected sat on a mine rich with copper. And a night in her bed was a part of their winnings. Not a night...two hours. She almost vomited the beans and biscuits she had eaten earlier. Wings of fright and indecision fluttered inside Beth's chest. How in God’s name had the night come to this? How had her life come to this miserable existence? It does not matter for after tonight I'll be free, she reminded herself fiercely. For a few hours, she was willing to do anything, be anything, to escape.

  The man in the dark corner shifted, and the weak oil lamp spilled light over his features. An impression of ruthlessness, of a rough sort of handsomeness. Before most of his face was once more obscured their eyes met, and something unfathomable turned over inside of her. A rush of conflicting emotions assailed her, and she wanted to flee right at this moment, even knowing she would not get far.

  Please win.

  Something flickered in the stranger’s eyes—a dangerous something. His eyes were rife with knowledge, dark and brutal. Joshua Kincaid. The only man at the table who was new to town but seemed as if he had the respect of all those at the table. She was sharply aware of him, in a manner she had never felt before. She wanted him to win, a singularly foolish desire, only because he had cared if she wanted whatever Hardin had embroiled her in. Beth couldn’t recall any instance in her life, a man had tried to give her an option. Not her father, her brother, and the man she had been stupid enough
to allow to woo her from her home to a life of nothingness.

  Several months ago, her life had been so different. There had been balls, church on Sundays…now she was a girl and would soon lie beneath a man. The play at the table resumed and taking a deep breath she went to the polished counter and took up the next group of drinks, placing them on her tray.

  "Remember we have been preparing you for this," Sally whispered, filling her tray with drinks. The Saloon was now scanty as most of the patrons had gone or passed out for the night, but the strong remaining odor of sweat, alcohol, and horse assailed her senses.

  “Take a few deep breaths and breathe, you look ready to collapse.”

  Beth complied, ashamed for Sally was younger than Beth’s twenty-one years of age. Somehow, she had become friends with the girls, and all had known Hardin would eventually turn her into a working girl. She was just too pretty to pass up, as many men had whispered. It did not signify that she was his wife.

  “Just remember all we taught you about what goes on upstairs, and you’ll be fine, Beth,” Sally said with a wink. Though she injected levity in her tone, there was a curl of concern in her bright blue eyes. It warmed Beth to see it, for too many days she had felt like an outsider.

  “You said all men took only a few minutes…they…they bargained for two hours.”

  A rueful smile curved the other woman's lips. “Now that's just talking. Ten minutes at most and you’ll be back down serving drinks, none the worse for wear. If he has any lick of sense, you may even enjoy it. Here we do what we must to survive, and Hardin is a mean son of a gun, and he’s been drinking, so you don’t want to cross him tonight.”

  Beth nodded and tried to take comfort in her words. Gathering the tray, she made her way to that private corner where the men played with intensity. With trembling hands, she balanced the tray with their drinks, three whiskeys, one ale, and four scotch, and deftly placed them on the round oak table.

  Edison Huntley, the town’s banker, took a sip of his drink, and before she could have skirted away, he grabbed her buttocks and squeezed hard with a leer on his rounded face. Beth reacted, slapping him across the jaw with such strength, her body twisted.

  The room fell silent, and the fear that darted through her heart was chilling. Hardin’s face went dark with his ire, and she would pay for this later unless she succeeded in fleeing tonight. Edison’s hand lashed out like a striking rattlesnake, and she braced for the blow that never landed.

  The man whose presence she had been so painfully aware of, had moved even faster and gripped Edison’s hand. Her rescuer leaned forward, his features hidden by the shadows of the saloon and his Stetson hat.

  “What the hell you doin’, Kincaid?” Edison growled, attempting to retrieve his fist from an unbreakable clasp.

  “Be grateful I stopped you in time. Had you hit the lady, I would have broken your wrist.”

  His expression was a grimace of remorseless truth.

  The men stilled, several staring at him in surprise. Even Hardin seemed bemused, and Beth, she was shocked. He thought her a whore but had come to her defense. Who was Joshua Kincaid?

  She needed him to win, the one man who seemed like he possessed any kindness. And then what? Could she give her body to a stranger? She had known the day would come when Hardin would grow tired of not making more money from her. She licked her lips, trying to still her nerves.

  I can do this…She couldn’t, but she had to. Beth almost lost herself and wailed into the stormy night. She was truly a part of a poker pot, her existence reduced to mere currency. Bile rose in her throat, and it took all her willpower and sense of self not to hurl the tankard of beer at his head and flee into the howling night.

  Freedom was so close. She had the money, all two hundred saved up from the back-breaking work she did in his place. Benjamin Hardin hadn't given her one penny for all the work she did. Her meager savings was from the tips she earned and from the sewing she did for the town folks.

  Whatever respectability she’d had, had been stripped from her the second she said those dreadful words to the town’s preacher. I will take this man to be my lawful husband…

  Benjamin Hardin had hidden the fact that he wasn’t a respectable rancher until after they were married. There was a sprawling ranch that sat on thousands of acres of land, but cattle weren’t his only business. He and his brother, Abraham, owned the only saloon for several miles. They offered low to high stakes gaming, the best varieties of liquor, and the loosest high caliber women the town had to offer.

  When he’d informed Beth, he expected her to work there, her shock had been so great she had laughed. He’d punched her, knocked her flat to the ground, and when she hadn’t lurched to her feet fast enough, he’d kicked her in the ribs. It was then she’d understood the nature of the man she dealt with. Her plans for escape had started then, and in the four months since, she had never had to worry about being bedded by the patrons, for Hardin was keeping her for himself. But his interest in that manner had been waning, not that he hadn’t tried, but somehow, he had been unable to get a rise out of his manhood. She had been to blame, and that beating had seen her abed for days, with a terrible hatred brewing in her heart. And the knowledge that the day would come when he would give her to his patrons.

  Never before had she experienced this terrible feeling of emptiness. My body for my freedom. If she failed to perform this night in any way expected by Hardin she would suffer. Beth glanced through the windows into the darkness. Could she truly flee before this round of play was over? How far would she get? Why did this have to happen tonight?

  She had planned to flee this night because she knew her husband had plans to travel to El Paso with a posse to rescue his brother from some mess he had landed in. Of course, he would never imagine she would have the courage to leave him. None of the other girls in the saloon had dared, even when he beat them so brutally.

  Beth slowly climbed the stairs, hating that she was trembling. Now was the time to show courage, not fear. She entered her room, closed the door and leaned against it. The small bed in the corner wobbled in her vision, and she was startled to discover she was crying. She hadn’t shed tears in weeks.

  The door was shoved open violently, pitching her forward. With a gasp she whirled around, her heart plummeting at the sight of Hardin.

  “Why you ain’t undressed yet?”

  “I…is the round over?” Dear God, who won?

  "I folded out," he said with a menacing sort of smile. "Either way I win, and I wanted to make sure you ain't have no chance of running. You'll be giving whichever man wins a good ride, and it's time you were broken in for rutting. After tonight you'll be my little prize, a fine bred woman, who only men winning certain high-stake poker games can get.”

  Within her an awful emptiness took root. Mouth as dry as dust, she stared at him, trying to think what to do. Did she scream her denial? Did she try and bargain with him? She did neither, merely vowing that she would escape this disgusting man before her at all costs.

  He scowled at her silence, his hand darted and gripped her throat in a merciless clasp. “If you try to run, I’ll peel the flesh off your bones. You understand me? The beating you got last time won’t compare to what I’ll do to you.” He made his knowledge of how fragile she was passed from him to her.

  She nodded once, and he released her, then with a sickening smile, he left. With shaking hands, she smoothed back her hair and walked over to the lone window over-looking the streets of the town.

  I must only survive tonight….

  Beth stood by the windows, staring into the distance, awaiting the man to whom she had to give herself for a chance of surviving beyond tomorrow. She’d always wondered how the girls in the saloon had taken to this life, had it been similar moments of helplessness, of being unable to find a way out?

  The door opened, she took a deep breath and turned around.

  Relief almost made her knees buckle. Joshua Kincaid. His name whispered in her
mind like a caress. Tension ran so thick in the air, Beth could practically taste it. He closed the door and removed his hat.

  “Thank God you won,” she gasped.

  “I had an incentive to,” he drawled. He walked over to her, a slow prowl of predatory grace. He was so large. She lifted her eyes slowly, settling first on the lean, square jaw and wide, sensual mouth. Her heart tumbled in her chest, and it was perhaps foolish of her, but she was not afraid of him.

  “I’m relieved you did.”

  “Why did you want me to?”

  “Because you thought I should have a choice in the matter. That means…that means you may touch me with some kindness.”

  For what seemed a lifetime, he studied her, not moving, not speaking. He looked hard and dangerous. Beth's heart thudded, and fear tingled up her spine. “Where do you want me?” She winced at the evident tremble in her voice.

  “Look,” he said with a sigh, the timbre of his voice deep and smooth. “If you do not want this, I understand. I’ll let Hardin know we’ll settle up another time, maybe—”

  The fear that darted through Beth almost prompted her to faint. Everything had to go as planned. She was willing to sell her soul to the devil to escape her wretched marriage. She could not endure another beating, that would delay everything for weeks, and by the time she was healed, Hardin would be back from El Paso. Beth was running, and she was running tonight, all the way to Boston, where she would lose herself in the city and a new life for herself. Away from the wretchedness of the west, and brutal men like Hardin. There, no one would know she had been married, and the type of life she had lived.

  Once in Boston, she would ensure the past stayed buried. “Don’t leave.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said with a frown. “You do not fit with this town…or this place.”

  I’m not a whore…I’m his wife. The words hovered on her tongue, and she desperately wished to say it, just to see if he would change his mind. But if he did return downstairs, she was bound to Hardin, and men in the West did not interfere between Husbands and Wives. The sheriff had told her that when she had appealed to him for help after that first beating.