Much Ado About Madams

by Jacquie Rogers

  Still rapping his knuckles on the counter, he refused to move. “If I have another half an hour to wait, by God, then I want another damned drink!” The scowling cowpoke nearly fell over, but caught himself on the bar with his elbow.

  Fannie searched the room for either one of the twins. She spotted Midas informing a soldier from nearby Camp Lyon that he wasn’t welcome. No soldiers were. Not only did they cause arguments with the cowboy clientele, but they often carried the pox. If the soldiers wanted a poke, they had to go to Virgin Alley in Silver City.

  If Midas was downstairs, Titus stood watch upstairs. Until one twin finished his business, she was on her own. Reese had laid down the law when he first took over the Comfort Palace. No customer could buy more than five drinks, and drunks weren’t allowed to stick around at all.

  If they wanted to drink, they belonged in the saloon. Customers were welcome here for a poke as long as they behaved themselves. Fannie had told Reese that if the men were bound to get drunk, they might as well buy their drinks here as give their money to the saloon, but Reese had held firm that the walk from the saloon to the whorehouse would help sober them up some. He didn’t want the girls hurt, and drunks tended to be the worst troublemakers.

  Gus wasn’t around, either. He’d left earlier to help Crazy Clay, a mountain man who came to Dickshooter twice a year to pick up his provisions for the fall trapping season. He wouldn’t be back for a few hours yet, not that he’d be that much use anyway.

  This hornytoad had to go, but Midas was still busy and she was on her own. She plunked a sarsaparilla in front of him. “Eight bits.”

  He shoved it back at her. “I told you, whore, I don’t want that shit. Now give me some whiskey.” His head wobbled a bit. His eyes looked bleary and threatening. Great, the twins were busy and she had a mean drunk on her hands.

  “Go over to the saloon if you want whiskey, buddy. You ain’t getting it here.”

  The drunk lurched over the bar, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked the front of her dress down, exposing one breast. “I’ll take you. Right now, right here on the goddamned bar.”

  Fannie ignored the painful pinch of his iron grip on her breast and slid her hand over to the bottle of sarsaparilla. She grasped it by the neck and walloped him a good one, right over his noggin. He let go with a bellow. She pranced back out of his reach, heart pounding and breast numb with pain.

  The unruly drunk leaped at her. Cornered against the wall, she had nowhere to go, and the scattergun lay harmless at the other end of the bar.

  Mid-air, he stopped. Only then did she realize that Midas held him by his collar and belt.

  “You want to take a few whacks at this bastard before I throw him out on his ugly face?” Midas growled.

  Fannie took a couple of deep breaths to clear her head. She tucked her bruised breast back into her dress and composed her face as best she could, chiding herself for letting this situation get out of hand. “Naw, just throw him out, and blacklist him for thirty days.”

  * * * * *

  “The country here is quite lovely,” Lucinda commented as she grasped the side of the lurching wagon.

  Sadie didn’t move her gaze from the backs of the team. “Yep. Too bad we couldn’t get away earlier, but I cain’t go no other time. I gotta get my work done ‘fore I can take off.”

  The evening breeze brushed Lucinda’s face with the soothing aroma of sagebrush and wildflowers. “I’m surprised this area isn’t settled.”

  “I like it. Not much Indian problem here, either. We leave them alone, they leave us alone. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Ever now and then some buck renegade scalps a few white folks, but other than that we don’t never have any problems.”

  Lucinda scanned the horizon for intruders. “How comforting.” Maybe this picnic wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

  “You do have to watch for them rattlers. Be careful when you step over rocks that you don’t tromp on one. Snakes don’t have no humor a’tall.”

  Lucinda shivered. “Rattlesnakes?” She hated snakes. Just the thought of them made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

  “There ain’t many. Just be careful if yer walking around.”

  All Lucinda’s courage melted. “Maybe we should have our picnic in the wagon.”

  “You cain’t have a picnic in a wagon!” Sadie patted Lucinda’s arm. “I’ll check the ground ‘fore you get off. How’s that?”

  Lucinda conceded, not wanting to appear like the cowardly city girl she was.

  “Good thing we ain’t staying the night, though. I hear tell grizzlies been feeding on the cattle lately, and the damned wolves howl something fierce, just waiting their turn.”

  “Oh, my heavens,” Lucinda whispered.

  “Don’t worry yourself. We’ll be on our way home well before the bears and the wolves come looking for supper.”

  Lucinda couldn’t think of a single thing to say, even for polite conversation. They traveled—jostled was a better word—three or four more miles until she saw the most beautiful little grassy meadow surrounded by scrub brush filled with singing birds. A trout jumped and little brown birds flitted from bush to bush. She could envision a nice clapboard house with a picket fence and a path running to a springhouse by the stream.

  “Whoa, there!” Sadie hauled on the reins and brought the horses and wagon to a stop. “We’re here. Hop down and stretch your legs while I set up the picnic.”

  Lucinda thought of the snakes, renegade Indians, bears and wolves. She couldn’t bring herself to move a muscle.

  With a chuckle, Sadie climbed down. “I’ll check the grass and the rocks, then you get down.”

  “All right.” Lucinda’s voice squeaked, much to her continuing embarrassment.

  After a few minutes, and what she thought was quite a show on Sadie’s part, she heard Sadie announce, “Ever thing’s fine. Come on down, miss.”

  Sadie spread a blanket and put a jug of lemonade on one corner and two cups on the other corner on the upwind side. “Keep something on the corners so’s the wind don’t pick up your blanket and you end up chasing it all over the countryside.” She pointed to the other side. “You set over there.”

  She stood pointing until Lucinda seated herself. Actually, Lucinda wanted to stand for a while, having ridden in a wagon with no springs for over an hour. Tired and bruised from the ride, her backside would have relished a nice walk to work out the kinks. But Sadie insisted she sit, so she complied. Besides, she felt safe from snakes, bears, and Indians while she sat in her designated spot.

  “We have about an hour, then we’ll head home or we’ll be caught in the dark,” Sadie said as she climbed into the wagon. “I’ll just unload this here food, then we’ll have us a nice little spread.”

  Lucinda attempted to stifle another shudder, but failed. Soon the beauty of the country entranced her. Birds hopped around searching for food and purple wildflowers swayed in the breeze. Lucinda wished she’d paid more attention in her biology class so she could identify them.

  Hoofbeats shook the earth and Sadie shouted obscenities at the horses. Lucinda jumped up to see the wagon bounce a foot in the air as the horses raced across the meadow and vanished over the hill.

  Her heart sank. The wagon was gone! And Sadie with it! Calm yourself down, ninny. She’ll be back as soon as she gets the team under control. She sat down in her appointed spot.

  She spied a flour sack lying where the wagon had sat. Several minutes went by while she tried to convince herself to move from the blanket and retrieve the bag.

  I should get that flour sack. It probably has food in it.

  If you bring food over here, it could attract the bears.

  You ARE food. What’s the difference?

  Several minutes passed as she waited, anxiety growing with every second. She felt hundreds of ants crawling up her spine, but when she shook, she felt a bit foolish that her imagination had fooled her. A tear of anger and frustration trickled
down her cheek when she realized Sadie might not even come back.

  You could be here all night. You need the food.

  But I’m safe on this blanket.

  That blanket won’t protect you from anything, stupid.

  The sun crept lower in the horizon, and her hopes lowered with it. She’d sat so long, probably more than an hour, that her legs were numb. Her stomach growled. It’s not smart to be hungry with a bag of food thirty feet away, she thought.

  A suffragist can meet any challenge.

  Mustering all her courage, she pried herself from the protective blanket and stood on wobbly legs. She stretched her back and patted her behind to get the blood circulating. Ever so calmly, Lucinda walked the thirty feet and picked up the bag.

  A twig snapped. Oh, my heavens! I’ll be scalped! Panic stabbed her throat and she raced back to the blanket and sank to her knees. Her heart raced. Sweat beaded on her brow. A rabbit darted to the stream.

  “Some Indian, you fool,” she muttered. She took a few deep breaths to calm her trembling body and pounding heart. Nothing like swooning over a silly rabbit.

  After a few minutes, her hunger overcame her anxiety. She opened the bag and started taking out the food. “Mmmm, fried chicken—my favorite.” She removed the cover from another bowl. “Tapioca!”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” boomed a man’s voice.

  Lucinda threw the chicken and tapioca ten feet in the air. “Don’t hurt me!” she cried as she spun around. Chicken pieces rained on her head. The tapioca bowl bounced off her chest, covering her breasts with pudding.

  Reese McAdams, a varmint worse than Indians, bears or snakes, stood with his feet spread, his arms crossed, and a very annoying smirk on his all-too-handsome face.

  “I’m here on a picnic. What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  The vile man licked his lips. “I’m here for dessert. Tapioca—my favorite.”

  * * * * *

  Reese tried not to smile at the hundred and twenty pounds of pure mad, but he couldn’t help it. The pudding dripping off her breasts drove him crazy. He would have offered to clean her dress with his tongue, but he doubted she’d appreciate it—at first. Her eyes sparked with anger and a promise of…he couldn’t think about it.

  He looked away in an attempt to control his desire as his body threatened to embarrass him. Don’t think about tapioca, either. “I’m here because this is my place.” He pointed over his shoulder. I plan to build a house right over there next year,” he nodded downstream, “and this year I’m building a barn and corrals.”

  “How very nice.”

  Her sarcastic remark made it clear she didn’t believe him. He could have kicked himself for sharing his dream. Obviously, she wanted to think the worst of him. All in all, it was probably better if she did. Even if she did thaw, which he had no doubt she would, this prissy woman would never make a rancher’s wife. He shuddered. Where the hell did that word, wife, come from?

  “No use for this chicken going to the squirrels.” He picked up a drumstick from the grass and took a bite.

  “And why did your employee bring me here, to this exact spot?” She collected the chicken pieces on the blanket and slapped them on a plate, with salad and a baked potato, offering it to him. Her glower wasn’t all that inviting, but she didn’t budge from the blanket, so he came to her.

  In perfect hostess mode, she poured him a drink. Damn! Lemonade. He hated lemonade, but now wasn’t the time to quibble. He watched, amused, as she struggled to maintain her finishing school demeanor.

  “I have no idea what those ladies do.” But he knew this lady looked awfully good wearing tapioca on those delicious breasts. He took another bite of chicken. It tasted like tapioca. He found it odd that she was so careful to stay on the blanket. She’d never even stepped off it when he’d scared the daylights out of her.

  “That’s difficult to believe.” She swiped at the pudding on her dress with a napkin.

  Reese knew she wouldn’t make much progress considering the size of the cloth and the quart of tapioca.

  “A gentlemen would turn his back, Mr. McAdams!”

  Nope, she hadn’t calmed down at all. “I think that since you’ve seen me butt naked, you’re entitled to call me ‘Reese.’”

  “Certainly, Mr. McAdams. And you may call me Miss Sharpe.”

  So much for his offer of friendship. He guessed a woman like her wouldn’t think much of a man who owned a brothel. “How’d you get here?”

  Lucinda sighed. “Sadie wanted me to go on a picnic with her. The horses bolted while she was unloading the wagon. She never came back.” She chewed her lower lip. “Oh, my. I was furious with her for abandoning me, but she could be hurt. I was so concerned for myself, I didn’t even think about that.”

  “I saw her driving the wagon to Dickshooter. She looked fine to me.” But wondered why she’d abandoned Lucinda. Nothing about this situation made any sense at all. He picked up some dishes and deposited them in the hamper. “I have some spare long-handles you can use while you wash your dress,” he offered.

  Lucinda shot him a look that could have scorched the sun. “I think not.” She picked up the empty tapioca bowl and held it out to him. “Would . . . would you get me a bowl of water?”

  “Why?”

  She flushed and lowered her eyes. “So I can wash my dress, obviously.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier just to go down the creek?”

  Lucinda pursed her lips and stared at the blanket. “Sadie said that there are . . . s-snakes here.”

  Reese barely controlled the burst of laughter balled up inside him. Snakes? She was scared of snakes! No wonder she hadn’t moved off the blanket since he’d been there—as if snakes couldn’t crawl on her blanket as easily as they could slither anywhere else.

  Few snakes, most of them harmless, inhabited this area, but she looked truly frightened. Might as well play the hero. “If you see one, scream.” He patted his Colt. “I’ll be right there to plug it.”

  He studied her brown feathery lashes as she bowed her head. He could almost see her thought processes at work. Should she leave the safety of the blanket, or not? He almost felt guilty about not being truthful. Almost. And when she looked at him with those emerald green eyes close to spilling over with tears, he nearly came undone.

  “I’ll get your water for you,” he relented, with not a small amount of contrition.

  She squared her shoulders. “That won’t be necessary,” she scoffed as she grabbed a towel, whirled, and stomped off to the creek.

  Reese spent the next ten minutes vacillating between amusement and amazement at the haughty woman kneeling by the creek. She had soaked herself to the bone while dabbing stream water on her bosom in a vain attempt to cleanse her dress. He couldn’t remember ever meeting a more stubborn female. Or a prettier one.

  Dusk threatened darkness, and with it, cold Owyhee night air. Reese unpacked his saddlebags and started a campfire, then spread his bedroll on a nice, level piece of grass. He pulled out a spare pair of long-handles for Lucinda to wear—not that he expected her to be any too enthusiastic about undressing. Nor did he expect himself to consider a woman in long-handles sexy, but Lucinda, though she tried not to be, was the sexiest woman he’d ever met.

  She’d be getting mighty cold any time now, and when she did, he’d be plenty ready to warm her up. He waited.

  Soon Lucinda approached him like a bear cub would approach a snake. He knew she had to be miserable, but still she maintained perfect posture and a schooled, ladylike expression. She looked delicate as a rose petal, but she was one tough woman. He admired her spirit.

  “I’m ready to return to Dickshooter now,” she announced.

  Reese pointed to dim light in the western sky. “Sorry, darlin’, we’re not going anywhere right now. It’s dusk and tonight’s a new moon. In fifteen minutes, it’ll be black as a coal miner’s ass.” He tossed her the red long-handles. “You better put these on. You’re bound to
get mighty cold in that wet dress of yours.”

  Lucinda caught the underwear in midair and held them by her forefinger and thumb away from her body. “I am not your darling, Mr. McAdams.”

  Reese suppressed a chuckle over the indignant look on her face. “Like I said, you’re likely to freeze your bustle off.”

  She sniffed, still holding the underwear at arm’s length. “I refuse to wear your underwear. It’s positively indecent.”

  “Suit yourself.” He knew she’d have second thoughts real soon. The temperature would probably drop twenty degrees in the next hour. “But I’m not sharing my bedroll with a soggy woman.”

  She tossed the long-handles back to him. “That is one thing I’m happy about. I wouldn’t dream of doing so, no matter what the circumstances.” She blew an escaped lock of blonde hair from her forehead. “This situation is…is...oooh!” She tossed up her hands, stomped off to the picnic blanket and sat down, wrapping the corners around her shoulders.

  “You at least ought to bring your blanket over here by the fire.”

  Lucinda looked away from him. She didn’t have to write her contempt on a piece of paper—he knew when a woman had her mind made up. The last vestiges of light ducked behind the western mountains and any minute the cold would set in, then the wolves would start howling. He wondered how much chill it she’d take before she changed her mind. Or froze her pride off.

  Reese fed the fire and took a drink of water to wash the nasty taste of lemonade out of his mouth. He couldn’t resist the urge to glance over to the beautiful, foolhardy woman perched like a statue clutching her blanket. Soon enough, she’d realize the error of her ways and crawl into bed with him. He settled his head on the saddle and pulled his hat over his face just enough so he could still sneak a peek at her.

  “Goodnight, darlin’.”

  Odds were, he’d have a beautiful woman snuggled beside him inside half an hour.

  Chapter 4

  Aaa-ooooo!

  One wolf called to another. Lucinda hoped they weren’t planning on inviting her to dinner—theirs. She strained to see through the evening dusk, hoping to spot the enemy before they saw her. Danger lurked everywhere, from the wolves howling in the hills, to the wolf sleeping under his Stetson on the other side of the campfire. The warm campfire.