A Cowboy's Muse

by Beth Williamson

  C

  A Cowboy’s Muse

  by Beth Williamson

  Smashwords Edition

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  Published by Beth Williamson at Smashwords

  ePub ISBN: 978-1-4524-2145-2

  A Cowboy’s Muse

  Copyright 2011 by Beth Williamson

  (Cover art by Croco Designs)

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

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  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  To learn more about Beth Williamson, visit:

  www.bethwilliamson.com

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  Chapter One

  Clio spent most of her time reading books. Books and family were her life. She tried to spend some time on Earth, but really, it was minimal.

  I should have tried harder.

  Her belated thought meant nothing when she slammed into the water in a wooden container, spraying the filthy muck five feet into the air. A round of cursing and whinnies decorated the air and she tried not to swallow any of the nasty stuff that surrounded her. She had landed in a horse trough. A trough!

  A hand grabbed her arm and yanked hard. She flew out of the water only to land on her knees in the dust, coughing and sputtering. Trying to forget what the water smelled like or what animals—two or four legged—had been drinking from it. Her stomach heaved and she fought against it.

  “Somebody get her a towel or something,” a deep voice said. “For Chrissakes, stop staring, Billy! Ain’t you ever seen a woman in a purple peek-a-boo before?”

  “Not like that, Ace. I was hoping to get a look at her…” answered another voice, this one a bit whiny.

  “Shut up and get back inside that damn saloon before I shoot you, you stupid cowpoke.”

  Just when she had gotten her breath back, a green cloth was shoved in her face.

  “Here, dry off with this.”

  Clio accepted it gratefully and pressed her face into it. It smelled of smoke, sweat and something she suspected was whiskey.

  “It’s a tablecloth. There ain’t much else to find in this part of town.”

  She took a deep breath and reemerged from the cloth to look up into the face of the man who had pulled her from the trough. He had longish, chocolate-brown hair that brushed his collar and matching eyes, framed by lashes that would make any woman jealous. He was no woman though, that much was for certain. His face was hard, his expression even harder. He wore a black hat, a gray shirt with a black leather vest, a dark-colored neckerchief and denims, with some pointy boots on his feet.

  What really drew her attention, though, was the gleaming silver star pinned to his vest.

  “Are you an officer of the law?”

  One brown eyebrow went up as he frowned at her. “Do you need any help besides what I already gave?”

  Clio stood and sourly noticed he did not offer his assistance and even though she nearly fell on her head in the dust. She finally noticed her surroundings and gasped in surprise.

  Oh hell and damnation. She shouldn’t have sneaked her father’s book, or read the words aloud. Honestly, she knew books had power, but this was beyond expected. She had cast a spell on herself and gone back in time! Not only the past, but from the looks of things, the Old West. In front of her, at least a full head taller, stood her savior.

  “Problem?”

  She bit her lip and contemplated her question before asking it. Clio certainly didn’t want to raise any more suspicion than she already had. “Can you tell me where we are and what day it is?”

  There, that ought to be as innocuous as she could make it.

  “It’s Tuesday and you’re standing in front of The Iron Bell saloon.”

  She shook her head and was mortified when a bit of green goo flew from her hair to land on his vest. She watched in horror as it slid toward his exceedingly firm stomach.

  “No, I mean town and state. And the actual date if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Both eyebrows went up this time and his gaze raked her up and down. “You must’ve hit your head right good, lady. This here is Peyote, Texas, and it’s the fifteenth of June.”

  “Yes, I believe I did hit my head. Can you also provide the year?”

  This time he stepped back a pace and his hand crept close to the dark pistol she noticed riding his thigh. Her pulse notched up.

  “It’s 1875. Now what kind of game are you playing?”

  Clio had no words. She was in Texas, 1875! She closed her eyes and focused on Mt. Olympus, trying to return there as she always could. It was no use. Nothing happened.

  She didn’t intend on traveling to earth or back in time. Books had never harmed her before now. If only she hadn’t sought out her father’s book. Ever curious, okay nosy, she had been looking for the gold edged book for some time. It was the one tome she hadn’t read or even been able to touch. Clio could hardly be blamed for wanting to seek it out. According to lore, Zeud had walked amongst humans, but she hadn’t believed it was all true. Now she knew it must be because here she was. On earth, unable to return. Perhaps she missed part of the spell when she read it aloud.

  Was she mortal for good? Would she ever be able to return to Mt. Olympus and her family? Her father would be furious, that is, if he ever found her.

  *****

  Ace Nevada looked at the little, black-haired thing in front of him with a good dose of doubt. He had no idea how she ended up in the trough in front of the saloon and she sure as hell didn’t look familiar. He knew everyone in this town on sight. He had a knack for remembering faces. And bodies.

  He surely would have remembered the graceful curves currently getting hugged by that wet, purple frippery. She had a fabulous pair of tits too—more than a handful with hard nipples poking out. Yes sirree, he would have remembered her down at Martha Ann’s, not that he visited the whorehouse very often except for business.

  This one would have definitely gotten his attention for pleasure. He had the sinking feeling she was a bit touched in the head though. That purple frock belonged in a whore’s bedroom, not out on the street, even in a town like Peyote.

  “You belong down at Martha Ann’s?”

  Her eyes, which he noticed were an amazing shade of dark green, held no recognition at the name of the madam’s. “I do not know anyone named Martha Ann.”

  He tried a different tactic. “How did you get here?”

  “I’m not sure. I, um, can’t remember.”

  He frowned. “Maybe you hit your head too hard when you landed. I’ve heard of that before. Folks losing their memory after getting hit upside the head.”

  She closed her mouth and nodded slightly as though the idea had merit. What the hell did he know?

  “Where are you from?”

  She glanced up at the sky then down at her wet outfit. It was sticking to her like a second skin. She pulled at it, but it only made it worse. Hell, she was shivering. He felt a tug of pity for her and draped the tablecloth around her slender shoulders.

  “Mount Olympus.”

  He searched his memory for the town. “That somewhere near St. Louis?”


  She shook her head and gazed around like a scared kid. “No, a little farther north.”

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his, her expression downright forlorn. “Clio. My name is Clio.”

  He sighed heavily. She was obviously a fish out of water and more than likely not a penny to her name. Might have been lying about not knowing how she got there, but some of what she said appeared to be truth, mixed up with fibs of course. No matter what, she was his responsibility, dammit. Sometimes being the sheriff was annoying. He wasn’t about to lock her up, which meant he only had one other choice.

  “I’m Ace Nevada. Let me take you down to Maybelle’s boarding house, Clio. She might be a tough old broad, but she’ll take care of you. I don’t suppose you have a suitcase with some other clothes, do you?”

  He knew she was going to say no and wasn’t disappointed when she shook her head. Of course she didn’t.

  Ace turned on his heel and started walking away. He paused when he realized she wasn’t next to him. He glanced back at her.

  “Let’s get going, Clio. The day ain’t getting any younger and that purple frock of yours ain’t getting any drier.”

  *****

  Clio followed the lawman simply because she didn’t know what else to do. She had tried and tried to use her powers over the last ten minutes and nothing happened.Nothing.

  She was stranded, alone and completely powerless. The dusty street coated her wet sandals and the bottom of her toga. By the time they got to the two story white house on the corner, she was liberally caked with mud. A small sign hung from a post out front, proclaiming in black letters that it was ‘Maybelle’s Boarding House’.

  As she followed him up the three steps to the front porch, Clio noticed her savior had a tight, well-formed behind. Really well-formed. She felt a stirring in her middle that growled like a hungry little beast.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about things like that when her situation was dire at best. But still, it was as if her body was a separate entity from her, one that couldn’t help but react like a woman in lust. Right now, she was a woman, not a goddess. A mortal woman at the mercy of strangers in an era she had only read about.

  Ace knocked on the door. He had wonderfully large hands. Strong, too. Why, the way they pulled her out of that trough—

  “What did you find today, Ace? Another stray?”

  “This here is Clio, Maybelle. She can’t remember nothing about herself after she ended up in the trough in front of the Iron Bell and hit her head. Do you have a spare bed to let?”

  The screen door opened and a woman, who was as round as she was short, walked out. She reminded Clio of a cherub, with her round apple cheeks, frizzy blonde hair in a knot at the back of her head and bright blue eyes. Eyes that were looking her up and down with not a whit of warmth.

  “She looks like a whore.”

  Clio gasped. “I am not a whore!”

  Maybelle’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you dressed in an outfit that don’t look like much more than underclothes a whore wears? Is that a tablecloth around you?”

  She grappled for an answer. “Mr. Nevada gave me the tablecloth. I, um, I hit my head and I can’t remember much, but I know I’m not a whore. Perhaps I’m a thespian and this is a costume.”

  “What’s a thespian?”

  “A performer of plays and such. Yes perhaps that’s why I am wearing this.” A bigger lie but she couldn’t tell the woman the real truth or risk not having any assistance at all. No, a few untruths wouldn’t hurt anyone. “I have no one to help me and nothing else to wear.”

  Maybelle studied her for a full minute before she nodded, her double chin waggled a bit with the force of it. “You sure don’t look innocent but my gut tells me you need help. I might have something you could wear in the back of my closet. Come on in then.”

  When Clio glanced back, she realized Ace was gone. Without so much as a polite goodbye. She humphed at the empty space and followed Maybelle into the house.

  Chapter Two

  Ace walked back to the sheriff’s office without really seeing much in front of him. His mind was back at Maybelle’s. Back with the wet, purple-clad Clio. Something about her stuck with him and he couldn’t shake it.

  It wasn’t her shape, although that was curvy enough to make his cock stick up like a flagpole. It was her eyes. An unusual shade of green that actually had a reflection of innocence. Innocence! Dressed in sexy clothes that revealed more than concealed.

  He reached the sheriff’s office and opened the door of the squat stone structure, the first thing built in town. Twenty years after it was built, a drunk and disorderly charge at the saloon landed him in jail and right into Sheriff Dodsen’s hands. He still felt a spurt of anger at how the old codger manipulated him.

  He was given the option of heading off to a jail in Austin or working as a deputy sheriff for a month. Of course, he had chosen to be a deputy. Two weeks later, Dodsen announced to the entire town that Ace was taking over as Sheriff and disappeared to Corpus Christi. That left Ace stuck as Sheriff of this godforsaken place until he found a replacement.

  Dodsen knew Ace had been out of work, fired from his last two jobs for fighting. He was down to the lint in his pocket and out of luck. Ace was the last person anyone would have ever expected to be a lawman. But here he was, Sheriff of Peyote for the past year. And he hated it. It just wasn’t in his nature to uphold the law, especially for the bunch of small town fools who hung around. He wanted to simply say to hell with it and light out of town, but he didn’t. A little voice deep down inside prevented it. Lord Almighty, he wished he could shut that little voice up with a slap.

  The door slammed shut behind him as he stomped over to his desk, currently piled high with wanted posters and papers. He contemplated looking through the female ones to see if little Clio was a wanted woman, but decided against it. There was no way she was an outlaw. Too bad, he would have liked to arrest her and see her in handcuffs. He snorted at his own stupidity and flopped down in the creaky old wooden chair.

  What was he going to do with Clio?

  *****

  Clio was overwhelmed by Maybelle’s generosity. The woman had gone into her attic and found a trunk full of clothes she ‘used to wear once upon a time when her ass was smaller than the width of the door’ and offered them to Clio. They were somewhat dusty, but with a bit of airing in the sunshine, they soon looked and smelled fresh.

  Maybelle also gave her a chemise and a pair of something called drawers. She found a dress that was a bright blue and slipped it on, embarrassed when Maybelle made a face about her lack of undergarments and shoes. She never wore shoes because she found them restrictive. Besides, as a goddess, she did as she pleased. She was fast discovering that as a mortal she didn’t have that luxury.

  “We’ll have to see if Everett has any ready-made shoes at the store that might fit you. Your feet are so small, we may need to buy something made for a child.”

  Clio laughed. “My feet aren’t small, Maybelle. I stub my toes on lots of things because they’re too big.”

  Maybelle snorted. “Hmm, okay, if you want to believe that. I couldn’t fit my big toe into a shoe that fit those tee-tiny feet of yours.”

  The mortal clothes felt odd but comfortable. She couldn’t squelch a little spurt of glee over her first real experience on Earth. Although she had panic sitting on her shoulders, being there with mortals was all so fascinating. The way Maybelle laughed with a snort, or the way she tut-tutted as she helped her dress. She chattered the entire time about people Clio couldn’t possibly know. After they had chosen three dresses out of the trunk, she declared it was time to start supper.

  Clio went downstairs, behind her new hostess, and giggled at the feel of the dress swaying against her legs. It tickled.

  “I’m making ham and biscuits for dinner with some greens. I hope you aren’t a picky eater, missy,” Maybelle said as she headed into the kitchen. After o
pening the big, black stove, she stoked the fire up then walked toward a room with a curtain on it. She rummaged around and pulled out a few items to set them on the table.

  As Clio watched, she opened a fabric-wrapped bundle to reveal a large ham hock. Using a rather lethal-looking knife, she hacked off some large slices of meat, which looked quite dry to Clio.

  “Can you make biscuits?”

  Clio shook her head. “I’ve never made them before, but I can try. Do you have a recipe?”

  Maybelle’s eyebrows went up in her round face. “You can read, eh? Okay then, we’ll see how good you can make up a batch of biscuits.”

  The ingredients were soon in front of her and she pushed up her sleeves. Only there was no recipe to read.

  “Where is the recipe, Maybelle?”

  Maybelle snorted as she sat down with a big bowl of green beans and started snapping off the ends.

  “I don’t need no recipe. You just listen to me and I’ll tell ya what to do.”

  Clio’s stomach clenched. Nothing to read? She suddenly felt very unsure of herself, but she wanted to prove to Maybelle she wasn’t useless. As the older woman recited instructions, Clio made a few mistakes but kept on. The dough was a bit lumpy and sticky, but again she listened and did what Maybelle told her to do.

  By the time she was done with the biscuit dough, the beans were ready too. The rolling pin proved to be quite a challenge. Clio had nearly dropped it on her foot then almost hit Maybelle with it. She tried again and with a little effort, she finally had the dough rolled out.