Boots and The Rogue: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 10

by Myla Jackson

  She needed to cool down and Scout needed at least a gallon of water to drink before he passed out from dehydration. Why of all days did Imelda Funk have to show up at the boarding stable where Jessie worked, to find her husband Billy Ray hitting on Jessie? The woman never came to the stable, whereas Jessie had been fending off Billy Ray’s overtures for months, each time telling the pig-faced used-car dealer she was not, nor ever would be, interested in rolling in the hay with him.

  Unfortunately, her boss had witnessed the whole showdown between Jessie, Billy Ray and Imelda. He’d fired her on the spot and would have turned Scout loose when she didn’t have enough money to pay his boarding, part of her former compensation package, which was nothing more than indentured servitude.

  Silas Butts had taken advantage of her when she’d been desperate to find a place she could keep her horse and work for enough to put a meager roof over her head. He’d even offered to let her live in the stable’s office, which happened to have a shower and a hot plate, everything she needed to live.

  In return for his generosity, she worked the entire boarding stable, looking after the thirty horses that had to be fed, groomed and cleaned up after.

  When he fired her, he turned her and Scout out in the road.

  Jessie had to make a choice between her car and her horse. Since Scout was the horse her father had given her before he died, she couldn’t just turn him loose and hope a truck didn’t hit him. She’d packed as much of her meager belongings as she could into a backpack, rolled the quilt that had belonged to her grandmother into a plastic bag, saddled Scout and rode away, leaving her car behind. If Silas didn’t have it hauled off, she’d have to come back another day to claim it. Preferably when she had enough money to put gas in the tank.

  About as down-and-out as a person could get, she wanted to cry, but she was too hot and dry to shed a single tear, and her horse needed water before she could collapse into a pitiful heap.

  Leading Scout around to the back of the building, she spotted a spigot near the back door and hurried toward it, her mouth like cotton and her face hot and sweaty from riding for the past eight hours. As she bent to turn on the water, the back door opened and a strawberry-blonde-haired woman backed out of the door, dragging a large trash bag. As soon as the woman cleared the door, she straightened and pressed a hand to the small of her back, her belly protruding like she’d swallowed a basketball.

  “Holy smokes,” Jessie said out loud, then clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “What the—?” The woman spun and teetered on the edge of the concrete porch.

  Jessie rushed forward and steadied her before she fell and busted open like a ripe watermelon falling off the back of a farm truck.

  “Oh dear, thank you,” the woman said, getting her balance and stepping down from the porch.

  “Ma’am, should you be carrying something so heavy when you’re so…so…” Jessie fought for a polite way of saying it.

  “Ginormous? Is that the word you were looking for?”

  Jessie backed away, her eyes wide. “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t say that. Why you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen, even as…as… Ah hell, I’ll be going before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

  “No, don’t.” The woman rubbed her hands down the side of her maternity jeans and then held one out. “I’m Audrey Anderson, owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon.” She laughed. “I know. I don’t look much like the owner of a saloon.”

  Jessie took her hand and the woman gave her a firm shake. She liked her already. “Jessie Taylor. Owner of practically nothing but this horse and the clothes on my back.” She nodded toward the spigot. “I hope you don’t mind, but Scout and I could use a drink of water before we move on.”

  “Oh, sweetie, by all means, drink as much as you want, only wouldn’t you rather have a bucket for the horse and a cup for yourself?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Scout and I don’t mind drinking out of the spigot. We’re used to it.”

  “Tell you what…” Audrey smiled, “…I’ll pay you twenty dollars to put this bag into that bin over there, while I find a clean bucket for your horse. And then you’re coming inside for a glass of ice water.”

  “I’ll carry the bag for you.” Jessie pushed her tired shoulders back. “But you don’t have to pay me to do it. I don’t need charity.”

  “I’m not offering charity. I’m offering to pay you for work performed.” Audrey cocked her brows. “So are you going to help a poor pregnant lady out and work for her, or do I have to carry this big bag of trash to that bin way over there?”

  Jessie tied Scout’s reins to the porch rail and easily lifted the bag onto her shoulder. It took all of five seconds to do the work and Jessie returned to an empty porch.

  A minute later, Audrey carried an empty mop bucket out and handed it to Jessie. “You’ll need to rinse it before you let your horse drink out of it, but it’ll do for now.”

  Audrey stood in the doorway, fanning herself with the cool air from inside of the saloon, while she waited for Jessie to water her horse.

  With an audience, Jessie hurried, splashing water on her jeans as she sloshed water in the bucket and cleaned it thoroughly before filling it full of fresh, cool liquid.

  Scout nudged her back and whinnied, eager for a drink.

  Jessie set the bucket on the ground in front of her horse and patted his hot neck. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring down at the crystal-clear water, her mouth as dry as the Texas summer.

  “Come on, I’ve got a tall, cool glass of water with your name on it inside.” Audrey held the door wide and waited for Jessie to climb the porch steps and enter the darkened interior of the saloon.

  Thankfully, Audrey took the lead.

  After being outside all day in the brilliant sunshine, it took a minute for Jessie’s vision to adjust to the dim lighting. They walked down a long hallway with doors on either side and emerged into the saloon behind the bar.

  “Sit,” Audrey commanded, pointing to the barstools on the other side of the counter.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand. I’ve been in the saddle all day.”

  “Whatever melts your butter, sweetie.” Audrey scooped ice into a large beer mug and filled it with water. She set it in front of Jessie and filled another the same way. Then she came out from behind the counter and sat on the stool Jessie had declined. “So, what’s your story?”

  Jessie took a moment to down the full glass of icy-cold water before answering, “I don’t have much of a story.”

  “Help yourself to the water or anything else you might like to drink.” Audrey nodded toward the bar and took a sip of her own water. “I find that everyone has a story, but not everyone likes to tell it until they get to know who they’re telling it to.” Audrey laughed at her own words.

  The woman had such a cheerful demeanor Jessie couldn’t help but feel better in her presence. Until her thoughts returned to the fact she was homeless, jobless and didn’t have a place to stable Scout. She shrugged, not wanting to burden this nice woman with her own problems, when she appeared to be ready to deliver her baby at any moment.

  For a terrifying second, Jessie considered what would happen if Audrey did deliver while she was there, apparently the only one in the saloon with the owner.

  Audrey slid a hand over her baby bump and sighed. “It’s the calm before the storm here. Everyone is at the rodeo. In the next fifteen minutes I expect my staff to come through the doorway.”

  “I’ll be sure to get out of your way well before then, ma’am.” Jessie rounded the back of the bar and filled her mug again.

  “I expect with the rodeo crowd here, I’ll be swamped and shorthanded as usual and we’re having a barbeque to boot.” She glanced up at Jessie, her eyes narrowing, calculating. “I don’t suppose you know how to grill burgers and hot dogs, do you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I used to grill for the ranch hands when my father was the foreman of the Circle C Ranch. During branding season, we’d h
ave fifteen or twenty mouths to feed. I was in charge of the grill. Why?”

  “If you would stick around for the night, I could sure use the help. It would save me from trying to stand for hours with this bowling ball in front of me.”

  Jessie stared at the woman. “You weren’t going to do all the grilling like…that, were you?”

  Audrey shrugged. “I still haven’t quite realized my limitations. But, today, I’m feeling it.” She pressed her hand to her back again. “I had my brother-in-law lined up to do it, but he and my husband have a horse down and will be staying with her until she’s out of danger.”

  Jessie nodded. “Understandable. I’m actually better with horses than cooking. Perhaps I could go sit with the horse while your brother-in-law does the grilling.”

  “Oh no.” Audrey shook her head. “Mark wouldn’t leave a horse while she’s down, and I wouldn’t ask him to. I told him I’d have one of the waitresses fill in for him. I have a feeling we’ll be too busy to pull a waitress out of the saloon to cook, so I was going to man the grill.”

  “I’d be happy to take over the grill. But you don’t have to pay me. I’d do it for the price of a hamburger.” Jessie’s belly rumbled at the thought of a juicy grilled burger.

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. If you grill for me, you’re on the payroll and one of the perks is free food. That is, if you’re up to it.”

  Jessie stared down at her dusty jeans. As tired as she was from riding all day, she wouldn’t turn down a job if it meant enough cash to buy a meal or two until she could find a job and a place to stay. She’d been aiming for Temptation, the small Texas town in the middle of nowhere. The farther away from Shady Creek Horse Boarding and the Dallas horse owners who frequented it, the better. “I’m up to it. But I really need to shower and put on some clean clothes.”

  “We have a bathroom with a shower in the backstage area of the saloon.” Audrey grinned. “We like our cowboys oiled up for Ladies’ Night at the Ugly Stick. And they don’t like to get into their trucks until they’ve had a chance to rinse off.”

  Jessie’s brows rose with the heat in her cheeks. What kind of place was this?

  Audrey laughed. “Relax. We only have Ladies’ Night once a month when we bring in male strippers. Gives the ladies a little release. Our strippers are homegrown, and it gives them a lot of extra spending money. A win-win situation.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Jessie set her mug in the sink behind the bar and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll just get my clean jeans.”

  Audrey stood. “If it’s all the same to you, we have tons of costumes backstage. In honor of the rodeo and the cowboys who live the rough life, the ladies who work at the Ugly Stick Saloon dress up as our favorite vintage heroines. Women like Calamity Jane, the Madam Mollie Johnson—Queen of the Deadwood Blondes—and Annie Oakley. Last year I came as the pistol-packing, notorious outlaw Belle Starr. This year, I’ll be the Unsinkable Molly Brown, complete with my own buoy.” She patted her belly. “Come on, I’ll show you what we have.”

  Jessie hung back. “I don’t know. I’m not much of a girlie girl.”

  “Then you can be Annie Oakley. She wasn’t either. Though she wore a dress, she was one of the best shots in the Old West. She traveled with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show.”

  “I know who Annie Oakley was.” Though Jessie had never been to college, she read everything she could get her hands on, including biographies in the school library. She’d had a great respect for the young sharpshooter and her rise to fame during a time when women were expected to stay home and raise babies. “I suppose I could dress as Annie Oakley.”

  “Good!”

  Audrey showed Jessie to the room behind the stage and the many racks of costumes, including chaps, whips, vests and hats.

  “You can use that brush to dust off your cowboy boots and there’s polish in that drawer if you want to put some color back into them. Nothing like a comfortable pair of boots to see you through the day.” Audrey stared down at her belly. “Wish I could see my red boots.” She sighed. “Not much longer and this baby and I will both be able to see my boots.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, when are you due?”

  “No worries. Not for another sixteen weeks.”

  “Sixteen weeks?” Jessie’s gaze slipped to Audrey’s baby bump. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “Exactly what I’ll be doing, now that I have filled the position of grill master. The bathroom is in the corner and here’s the Annie Oakley costume.” She pulled out a tanned leather vest that was closer to a corset than anything.

  The low-cut V neck had been trimmed in short leather fringe, with bright beads sewn in a pattern across the breast. The tanned leather skirt would barely come down to Jessie’s knees, exposing her legs all the way down to the tops of her boots.

  She glanced up at Audrey. “I don’t remember Annie Oakley wearing a dress like that. Where’s the rest of it?”

  Audrey’s laughter warmed her, at the same time that it worried her. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve never been to the Ugly Stick Saloon. The people who come to drink and party here like to see a little more skin than at a church picnic. Go on, get that shower and get dressed. The crowd will be arriving within an hour and we have to have at least a hundred burgers and dogs ready.”

  Jessie entered the bathroom and locked the door behind her, wondering if she could stay hidden there all night and nobody would notice. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat in twenty-four hours. She would do practically anything for one night, as long as food was included.

  The parking lot of the Ugly Stick Saloon was overflowing by the time the McFarlan brothers arrived.

  “Damn. I hope there isn’t a line for the food,” Brody said. “I could eat a side of beef all by myself, as hungry as I am.”

  “Knowing Audrey, she’s had the grill fired up for a couple of hours already.” Angus parked in a field and looked out at a brindle quarter horse tethered to the fence, chomping on the grass within reach. “Can’t believe a cowboy would ride his horse all the way over from the arena.”

  “Maybe he has big plans to drink and doesn’t want to get a DUI.” Brody glanced at the horse. “That’s one ugly horse.”

  “What are you talking about?” Angus frowned. “He’s got great lines.”

  “I agree with Brody,” Colin commented. “I never was a fan of that brindle coloring. Looks like someone splashed paint all over him.”

  Brody wondered if Colin was agreeing with him just because he was trying to suck up and make things right between the two of them. He ignored his younger brother, not ready to forgive him. Granted, he’d stopped thinking about Fancy less than a year after he left the Rafter M Ranch. But he hadn’t stopped thinking about Colin screwing around with her the night after he asked her to marry him. Colin had known she said yes, had been there when he’d shown the ring to his family and announced his intentions.

  His belly aching from more than hunger, Brody headed off across the field, making a beeline for the smoke rising higher than the saloon’s rooftop. He could smell burgers charring and didn’t want to dwell on the past until he’d filled his stomach.

  Tables had been set up outside. Pretty waitresses dressed in corsets, frilly skirts and cowboy boots weaved between the guests, serving up plates of hamburgers, whiskey shooters and mugs of beer.

  Several cowboys rose from the corner of the table nearest the grill and ambled into the saloon for music, dancing and more alcohol.

  Brody claimed the spot and glanced around for the waitress. The closest one was occupied with a full table of dusty, sweaty and rowdy cowboys having come straight from riding rodeo events. They were loud and demanding. Brody didn’t expect the waitress to make it over to him within the next fifteen minutes.

  As close as he was to the grill, he could stand up and ask to be served next. The cook was a tall woman, maybe five eight or nine, with long sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a s
hort doeskin-leather dress that hugged her middle like a corset. On her feet were well-worn, but polished, cowboy boots. She flipped burgers, tossed on new ones and turned the hot dogs—all with quick, practiced flicks of her wrists. Every time she moved, the hem of the skirt swayed, emphasizing her tiny waist and the sexy flare of her hips, and exposing more of her toned thighs.

  Brody frowned, fully hoping that when she turned she’d be fifty with an inch of makeup to hide the wrinkles, her eyes ringed in eyeliner so thick she’d look like a raccoon on its last legs. Unfortunately, her legs looked young and supple, like they’d easily wrap around a man’s waist and hold on tight as he rode her to an incredible orgasm.

  Hell, Brody wasn’t there to ride a cowgirl or get involved in anything other than a hamburger loaded with pickles, onions and catsup. No, he’d had his share of the women of Temptation, Texas. If they were all like Fancy, he didn’t need them.

  Angus, Colin and another cowboy joined him at the table.

  “Brody, good to see you.” The cowboy reached across the table.

  “You remember Jake Maddox, don’t you?” Angus introduced the cowboy.

  Brody’s eyes narrowed. “Jake. The only Jake I remember was the one who could outrun me in track and was the smallest, but fastest, receiver we’d ever had on the football team.” He gripped the man’s hand and grinned. “Good to see you finally grew up. How tall are you?”

  Jake chuckled. “Last I checked, I was six foot four.”

  “Damn, what did they feed you after high school?”

  “Burgers and beer.”

  “Speaking of burgers…” Brody stood, “…I can’t wait another minute.” He rounded the table and headed for the cook.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one getting impatient with waiting for food. A huge, burly cowboy with a unibrow slashed across his forehead clomped between the tables and stopped beside the cook. “How’s about giving me one of those burgers?” he said, his voice, like his body, big and rough.