by Ivanna Roze
"You still going to Utah?"
She looked up at him, bleary-eyed. "You can't stop me."
"It would seem that way," he agreed. "Unless you don't get on that train, then I won't need to."
A train was sat up ahead. The whistle blared, as if to accentuate it.
She stepped up onto it, showed the man the ticket. He read it a moment, looked at her, and then stamped it. "Welcome aboard."
A conductor took her to her berth. She settled into it. At least she didn't have a room-mate this time. The woman had looked like an old peacock, she thought, and then laughed at the image.
She pulled herself into the bed. She hadn't realized how tired she was until Ashton had woken her up on that platform, but now she felt like every little movement was a grind, too tiring to do anything but head toward the nearest bed.
She could hear Ashton following behind a ways. This had better not be a trick, she thought. It had better damn-well not be.
Ashton settled into a chair, lit the lamp in his room, and opened the magazine he'd bought in town for a nickel. It promised all sorts of lurid, inappropriate stories, and that was exactly what he didn't need to be reading right now. The knowledge that it was doing exactly the wrong thing only seemed to make it more fun. Like the real mistake had been thinking he could get away from it.
Well, Cora had him beat once, and he wasn't going to let it happen again. If you can't beat them, join them, they said. It would be easier to keep her safe if he could keep a close eye on her, and she wasn't going to let him keep that eye on her on the way back to Detroit empty-handed.
If he tried to get her back onto the train heading East, she'd try to make for the window next time, and then maybe things would get uglier from there. So he would let her do what she wanted. Ashton settled in and turned the page.
The title promised that he would hear about a woman violated by an ape, and the man who had made it pay. He had no doubt that the story that followed would deliver on that promise.
A few minutes later he turned the page again.
Now all they had to do was wait for the train to take them right back into dangerous territory once more.
Eighteen
It was late into the evening when Cora stepped back into the Royal. She never had thanked that nice man, so it was nice to have a second chance. Ashton followed a little way behind, looking worse for wear. His coat was torn, she had noticed, and he didn't seem happy about it.
She had made it out mostly okay, except for her bottom, which was still sore from the fall, but with all his acrobatics it seemed to have split a seam in his jacket, and worse, torn the fabric. She would need more clothing if this investigation would go anywhere. She could at least find a tailor capable of patching his clothes up. It was the least she could do.
She paid another twenty dollars for two rooms, two nights, and to cover their meals.
She made her way over to the concierge desk next. The man there recognized her immediately.
"Oh, ma'am. I, ah—" he leaned his head out a little way to see Ashton following behind. "I see that man found you alright."
"I wanted to thank you," she said softly. Slowly, she was beginning to realize that this had been a bad idea. "Mister Littlefeather was killed by some sort of… thing, out on the trail. But…" she took a breath to steady herself. "Up to that point, he was the picture of professionalism. So I wanted to thank you for your recommendation."
"Of course," he said. His voice held measured calm that said that he didn't know what to do with that news, and the truth was that she didn't know what to do with it, either.
Ashton leaned down behind her, fishing a dollar out of his pocket and sliding it across the counter. "We're looking for something, if you know where to start, we'd be obliged to hear it."
The concierge took the dollar and slipped it into his pocket. "What can I help you with?"
"Cora, tell him."
"I'm here looking for my mother. I'm told that she's remarried. To a man with several such wives."
The concierge's lips pursed. "That's not very specific. Could be any of dozens of people in Salt Lake City alone."
Ashton's voice was low. "I don't think this is that sort of marriage, and isn't that kind of fellow."
"I don't take your meaning."
"Every step along the way, Devils have had their hand in this. I think they have something to do with it. I know you folks have your religious disagreements with the east, but I don't think we're looking for a man who would be seen around town much."
"Golly, then," the man said softly. "I don't really know how to help. We've all heard stories, here and there, but they’re just the usual Devil stories. Nothing stands out in my memory."
"No," Ashton agreed. "The city's too entrenched here. And too religious. Devils would stay away when they could, and when they couldn't… well, they'd keep a low profile, at least."
"Sorry I can't be more help," the man said, raising his shoulders apologetically. He reached back for his pocket when Ashton waved his hand.
"Keep it."
A boy took them both up to their respective rooms. Separate rooms, all proper. Cora settled into her bed and laid back. In a few minutes, she would need to get provisions settled again. She'd need a new bag to carry supplies and a change of clothes. Her chemise would need washing, and she could do with another one if this was going to take more than a day or two.
It wouldn't do to have Ashton running around in a ruined jacket, either. It hurt his image and she knew that he took that very seriously just from looking at him.
Until things started moving again, though, all she wanted was a little bit of peace and quiet.
She opened them again and forced herself up. She had slept too much already. Now it was time for action, time to figure out where to go next. Even with the old man's advice, she didn't have much to go on. Head back. The family is still in Utah, you can find them. The man and his wives were waiting for her, keeping things safe until she arrived.
The idea hit her like a shot. She was outside Ashton's room a moment later, knocking on the door hard. He answered the door in his undershirt, his jacket and shirt draped over the back of a chair. "What is it?"
"I have an idea, and I need to know how crazy it is."
"Knowing you?" He gave her a tired smile. "I'd say, 'very.' Let's hear it."
He pushed the door open a little, and she moved in, sitting down in the chair with his clothes over the back. She was careful not to touch them any more than she had to, though, at least. She noticed that even as she settled in, he wasn't closing the door behind her. So that was how little he trusted himself? She almost smiled at the thought.
"Well, I was thinking. The folks out here, they have plenty of… what do you call it? Multiple marriages?" Ashton gave her a nod that said to get on with it, regardless of what they called them. "Well I was thinking. That makes it hard to find one that stands out, right? A man here isn't likely to hear about one peculiar family in a town twenty miles south, are they?"
"No."
"But they'd have heard about dangerous areas, right?"
"I suppose so. There would be stories, things like that."
"What if there was a place that didn't have any trouble?"
Ashton considered it for a moment. "What's your point?"
"Well, this thing seems pretty… I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong, but whatever we're dealing with seems to be on the scarier end of things."
Ashton's eyes closed a bit longer than a blink, but she noticed. "That's a fair assessment."
"Well, you said they're territorial, didn't you?"
"I said that."
"If there was something big and scary and very territorial, and it didn't want you and your kind of folks coming after it non-stop, it would want to stay pretty quiet, don't you think?"
"Let me see if I'm following. You think that the place we're looking for would be one where there's an unusual lack of anything going on?"
"It's not very stup
id, is it?"
He took a moment before answering. "Not at all," he said, finally. "In fact, that might just be the ticket."
"I'm going to go find somewhere we can buy some supplies for the road," Cora said finally. "We can spend tomorrow looking for anyplace that fits that description. Until then, I'll have someone sent over to look at your jacket."
Ashton stepped over to her, picked it up off the back of the chair, and held it out so that the hole was right in front of his face. "I was hoping to have Chester look at it," he said, but there was no fight in it. "I guess you're right. Have someone sent up. They can't ruin it any worse than it already is."
"That's the spirit," she said, smiling. "I'll be back tonight to make sure that they've done the job right. If not—well, an out-of-town girl might not be able to do much, but I think I'm well-enough known back east to count for something out here. My word should still count for something."
Ashton gave her an amused look that told Cora he didn't buy it. Oh, how little he knew. "I'm sure it does."
"Oh, you'll see. I know how to get my lips to the right ears, and make no mistake, Ashton Lowe. I know exactly what I am doing. Now, I'm going to go make arrangements. Get some rest. You look dog tired."
She left the room, and left Ashton, feeling good. It seemed as if it would never happen, but he was finally accepting how it was going to be. Her brother had never been in charge, not really. Now that he was beginning to see that, perhaps they could start really working together.
Nineteen
Ashton waited in his room. Evans, more a butcher than a tailor, had come and gone. So much for the power of recommendations, he thought. Well, if Cora had one tenth the authority she seemed to think that she had, then he hoped she exercised every ounce of it.
He slipped the jacket back on again, not bothering with the good shirt he had left. The one that Evans had brought with him, the one now laying out on Ashton's bed, fit like…
God, he couldn't even think of a case where his clothes had fit more poorly.
His toe tapped. He could hear her voice through the walls. Someone was still in there, selling her something else. How many sellers could one woman deal with? Evidently, Evans had been more interested in expedience than the others. Perhaps, the way his belly hung out over his belt, it would have made him late for supper if he'd taken the time to repair the coat properly.
With his arms slack at his sides, it almost fit normally. Making the slightest forward reach, he could feel it starting to pull. Heaven forbid that he had to actually reach for something, he might pop the seam again himself. And if he had to do it with two arms?
Lord, the thing would split clear in half! How had it come to this? How could anyone do such a poor job that it made the rest of the jacket measurably worse? Ash frowned and shrugged the jacket back off. It would forever be a mystery.
This was exactly why he didn't live out West. Because of this exact problem. Because the supposed best that they could do didn't do anything better than to ruin his clothing and his day.
The voices next door had stopped, thankfully. A knock came at the door a moment later, and he opened it. Cora took one look at him, and didn't bother to ask how things had gone.
"How bad is it?"
He took the jacket off the back of his chair and held it out to her, the stitching visible as he held it flat between his hands. Her lips immediately pursed, and then she looked up at him.
"I see."
"Yes," he agreed, her tone saying that no more words were needed. Most tailors he had dealt with couldn't compare to the artists he preferred to deal with back in Cincinnati. They had poor taste in fabric, they made clothes that didn't quite fit perfectly.
Chester's clothing felt as if he wasn't wearing it. The confidence of never worrying about it was immeasurable. This was so much worse than that. Bad enough that anyone could have seen it with the plain eye.
"I'll have a word with the papers in the morning."
Ashton dropped the jacket back on the chair, not bothering to drape it properly. What would the point? It was little more than a hundred-dollar piece of trash, now.
"I'm sorry, Ashton."
"I know," he said. He settled down onto the bed, trying to forget about it. There would be other suits. He had a closet full of them back home, with all the pockets stitched in perfectly. This hadn't even been his favorite. No, his favorite was lying in the twisted hulk of the train at the bottom of a Dakota valley.
Ashton heard the sound of the door closing, but when he looked back up, Cora was still there.
"I can't fix your suit, certainly not on such short notice. But I can try to make it up to you."
She was already wearing a different dress, clearly one that she had bought today. It was pretty, and suited her well. Like everything he'd ever seen her in. This one was an emerald green that set off the color of her eyes, brown rimmed with a green that seemed that much more prominent with the dress.
Ashton should have told her to stop when she started to undo the buttons. He should have told her to go back to her room. But he didn't. Instead, he stood up, smelled in the heady smell that he recognized as hers, and pressed her back against the door.
He tasted her neck, a mix of salt and skin that he would never get enough of, eliciting a moan that he needed to hear. His hand moved up to knead her bosom roughly. It wasn't professional. It wasn't proper. He should have known better, and of all things he knew he shouldn't do what he was about to do.
None of that mattered. She wanted him, and he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them, even if it was just this one more time. A voice inside him told him what he already knew. That wasn't an option, not any more. He was going to do this every chance he got, and that was that.
"Don't stop," she purred. He didn't plan on it.
Her hips were already moving against his, stoking a fire inside him that would only be appeased by her. He pushed the dress down to the floor, pushed the chemise off her shoulders and let it fall, revealing her perfect breasts to him once more. He wasted no time in teasing the rosy peaks to hardness, enjoying the way that they crinkled around the hardened bud.
He pulled one into his mouth, continuing to tug gently with his teeth. He could hear her breathing, ragged and rapid and shallow, and he could feel her need in the way that her hips pressed into his exploring hands.
"Get on your knees."
He barely recognized his own voice, so hoarse and full of desire. She slipped down to her knees, already knowing what came next. He freed his already-hard erection from the confines of his jeans.
She pressed a soft kiss against the head, the feeling of contact making him twitch with pleasure and with anticipation. A teasing lick, too short to bear and too tantalizing to ignore. Then another, longer this time, lingering a moment on the sensitive skin of his cock.
His eyes fluttered shut as she took him into her mouth, exploring his hardness with her lips and tongue. He wasn't going to finish with only that, though. He stopped her before the pleasure was too great, helping her up from the ground only long enough to push her back onto the bed.
Ash took a moment to admire the sight of the woman in front of him, the way her breasts pooled when she laid on her back. The way that her face shone with the heat of arousal. He dipped to a knee, kissing her between her thighs for a moment, swirling his tongue and earning a groan of pleasure, but neither wanted to delay what would come next.
He lifted her legs to sit over his hips and moved into her with a slow motion, easing into her inch by inch. When he was finally inside he set a slow, repeating rhythm. There would be time for the ceaseless passion, for the need to overtake them both, but now they were moving slowly together, gently rocking back and forth, letting his cock touch her everywhere she needed him to touch.
He let one hand gently stroke her beautiful breasts, his other hand softly rubbing at the nub that lay at the top of her folds. He enjoyed the mewls of pleasure that she let out, but the growing demands of pleasure
already starting to overtake him demanded that he move faster.
He picked up the pace, feeling her walls tight around him, driving him further toward the edge. He was moving hard now, both of them on a frenzied race to fulfillment until he spent himself inside of her.
She laid there, even her breathing coming out like soft moans, rippling out from the pleasure that they'd both lost themselves in. Ashton stole another kiss before he withdrew from her. They were in for a very long night, he knew.
Let the morning be the morning, and let the future be the future. For right now, he thought as he felt himself starting to harden again at the sight of her slick with passion and body heat, he would take the beautiful woman below him as many times as she would let him.
Twenty
The last time Cora had been in Salt Lake City, it had been so cold that she'd bundled up for the mountain trip before she even left her hotel room. Though it was only a few days later, the difference was massive. No more worrying chills running up and down her spine, no more need to bundle up in two different coats. In fact, it was probably alright to go out in little more than a shawl, compared to Detroit.
She smiled as they walked together. Silvertown. It was a little place, opened up when a small silver vein was found. Folks talked about it like it was the Holy Grail most of the time, but they—of course—didn't feel any way or the other about it, since that would be terribly improper.
But the word was good enough. No dangers down in Silvertown. Devils tended to stay away. They said it was the power of the people's faith. Ashton nodded and headed straight for the coach, and now they were on the move, easy as that.
The stagecoach wasn't too far now, but she wanted to spend every minute she could enjoying the Ashton that she had found. The one that didn't fight her at every step, the one that wasn't pretending to be distant just to be ornery.
He should have already realized by now how much easier it was to just listen to her. Sure, the tailor hadn't worked out, but other than that. Letting her head rest against his shoulder, he stopped to let her have her moment before they went into the stagecoach office.
