The Case of the Great Land Grab (Agent Thorn Book 1)

by Brandy Golden

  Thorn stood up and grabbed her arm. “Whoa there...you can't go running off now. I'm afraid you'll have to travel with Boxcar and me until we get back to Potluck. I can't let you go running off on your own. It's too dangerous.”

  Callie brushed his words aside with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself, really!”

  Thorn tried to be diplomatic. “I can't let you do that, Callie. No gentleman lets a lady travel alone.”

  Callie stiffened, her eyes shooting daggers now. “I said I'll be fine.”

  Thorn looked sternly at her, his mouth setting in a grim line. “No.”

  “Yes!” Callie stood with her hands on her hips, refusing to be intimidated.

  Thorn reached out and snapped a small thin branch off the nearest tree. He watched her eyes grow big as he quickly stripped the leaves and twigs off it. She began to back away as he reached for her, but her fascination in his movements left it a second too late and he suddenly had her by the arm. Swinging her around, the switch burned across her buttocks in a sharp sting that took her breath away.

  “I said no,” he reiterated, bringing the switch down a few more times.

  “Aiiee...” squealed Callie as she tried to dance away from him on her tiptoes. “All right, all right!” She gave in quickly as the hateful switch reignited the smoldering fire in her already chastised buttocks. “I'll travel with you, just stop!”

  Boxcar was just coming back from giving the horses a drink at the river's edge and he grinned at the rebellious look on Callie's piquant face. “It will be a delight to travel with such a pretty lady as yourself,” he assured her gallantly.

  Callie sniffed, but looked slightly mollified as Boxcar offered her the reins to her mount.”Probably can't even ride,” she grumbled as she lowered herself gingerly into the saddle with a hiss. She shot Thorn an evil glare and tossed her head. If she had to ride with them, then she would restrict her conversation to Boxcar. At least he seemed a gentlemen! Gentlemen didn't spank ladies! Only ruffians like Thorn did hateful things like that!

  * * *

  “Please don't worry about me, Mr. Garvey, I'll be fine,” Clary assured the worried gentlemen. “Mr. Cavanaugh will see me to the hotel and show me around town.”

  Randall Garvey frowned and shook his head with a sigh. “There goes one stubborn young lady,” he said to himself as he stretched his legs before getting back on the stage for Silver Springs. “Whoever marries her will have his hands full, yes indeed!”

  Mike opened the door to Madame Fanny's and ushered Clary inside and she looked around curiously, her intelligent eyes bright with interest.

  “Good afternoon, Mike,” came the soft voice from behind the desk and Clary looked at the redheaded woman behind the counter. She was a lovely woman, her dark red hair pulled up in a neat chignon behind her head and soft tendrils falling around her forehead and small ears. Her white, long-sleeved blouse was pinned at the neck with a cameo pendant and her light green eyes surveyed them with good humor and interest.

  “Hi Fanny,” replied Mike, taking his hat off with a boyish grin and gently assisting Clary forward with his hand on her back.

  “Who's your friend?”

  “This is Miss Clary Worthington and she's looking for a place to stay for a while.”

  The chuckle from the woman was deep and rich and Clary liked her instantly. “Is she aware of the Silver Slipper?” Fanny looked at Clary admiringly, but was sure that Clary was not interested in a job with that particular portion of her business. She was too well dressed for that.

  Clary spoke up briskly. “I'm aware of the Silver Slipper but I don't intend to let that stop me from staying here until I can purchase my own lodgings or business, or both.”

  That statement caught Fanny's immediate interest. “You looking to start a business? What kind of business?”

  “I don't know as yet. Is there anything for sale here in town? Or do you perceive any needs here in Potluck?”

  “There isn't a good place to buy a decent dress or hat unless you go to San Francisco or San Antonio,” declared Fanny. “This town could use a good milliner and dressmaker's business and that's the truth!”

  Clary's eyes lit up. “What a coincidence, that happens to be just what I had in mind,” she replied happily.

  “And I can assure you, me and my girls would be your best customers.” Fanny laughed delightedly and turned the roll book around for Clary to sign. “Let's get you all settled in. We have things to discuss, my dear.”

  “And if you need a good accountant, I'd be happy to offer my services,” added Mike with a cheerful grin on his handsome face. He looked at Clary with an admiring look in his eye and Fanny had to hide a grin.

  Later that evening, Clary stood at the window overlooking the main street of Potluck and wondered what Thorn was doing. Fanny had provided a wonderful dinner brought in from the diner in town so she and Clary could talk privately without the eyes of the town upon them. Clary had assured her she didn't care what people thought of her association with Fanny, but Fanny told her she always needed to be careful. She didn't want to hurt Clary's future business by driving off potential, prominent women customers by being seen with her.

  Clary had also found out that a small building on the boardwalk in the center of town was vacant and it had a living quarters above it. The bank held the mortgage on it at the present time and it had been vacant for quite a while now. Fanny thought Clary could get it for a good price and she planned on visiting the bank in the morning to see about that purchase.

  She wondered again if she had made a mistake in coming out here, in following Thorn. Would she drive him away from her by doing so? Or did Thorn just need to get the wanderlust out of his system? At any rate, Clary had a bit of the wanderlust in her own blood and she had loved the journey out here. Sure, it had been hot, dusty and tiring, but it had also made her blood sing. Especially when the bandits had been chasing the coach.

  Clary had always longed for adventure and a break from her solid, stable and yes, boring home life. That had been one of the reasons she had been angry at Thorn for leaving her behind, but she hadn't been able to do anything about it at the time. Now she was older and no longer legally liable to her father, so she could go wherever she wanted and do whatever she wanted to do. The thought was exhilarating and whether Thorn liked it or not, Clary was here to stay! The west was exciting and the sheer danger of it roiled her blood and set her senses swimming. Almost as much as Thorn himself. She had been breathless today when he put his hands on her and only her anger with him had kept her from throwing herself in his arms and begging to stay. Clary did not beg! Disobey, yes...beg...never!

  Besides, Thorn just didn't know how capable she was of protecting herself. She hadn't spent the last three years languishing in despair at his absence. Oh no...she had put the time to good use. She was a crack shot with a pistol or rifle and learned some moves in hand-to-hand combat from the foreman of her father's ranch. Danny Desinado had been a pugilist in his younger years and while Clary didn't have a lot of body strength, she was agile and quick. Danny had taught her how to be prepared for the unexpected and how to use a man's own strength against him to get away. They had practiced diligently until she could even outwit Danny himself and he had laughed uproariously the day she had thrown him.

  Of course it had all been kept secret from her father. He would have died if he had seen his daughter in pants! Clary had made her own pants though and she was an excellent seamstress. When the occasion warranted, she intended to use them in this untamed land if need be. In fact, she felt the most glorious sense of freedom that she danced around the room with her arms outstretched for sheer joy.

  Clary was no longer the meek and mild, childlike girl Thorn had left behind. She was a full-grown woman now with a mind of her own and the freedom to exercise it. No, she was NOT going back to Pennsylvania, no matter what Thorn said or did! She flopped down on the bed and laughed to herself. Thorn wa
s in for a big surprise if he tried to force her.

  * * *

  Thorn and Boxcar were seated at the back of the saloon, keeping an eye on the poker game that Slim and Hank were sitting in on. The man opposite Slim was one Thorn had seen in several games around the territory and had played with Aikens in some of them. He seemed to win most of the time too, just like Aikens. Thorn wondered if he cheated.

  “Do you suppose he cheats?” asked Boxcar in a conspiratorial whisper, voicing Thorn's thoughts aloud.

  “I'm sure of it, I just haven't caught him yet.”

  Boxcar's eyes watched the speed of the fingers shuffling the deck and for an imperceptible pause, he caught the movement. “You see that?”

  “Sure did,” replied Thorn. “I guess that answers that question.”

  “Dealing from the bottom of the deck...pretty slick too,” murmured Boxcar. “The man's a pro although he acts like a broke cowboy hitting it big for once in his life.”

  “I've seen him play before, so I know he's no amateur. I just want to know what he does with all the money he makes off these games.”

  “Well, he's taking plenty of money off Slim and Hank,” Boxcar pointed out quietly. “Do you suppose they are as innocent as they tried to portray?”

  Thorn eyed him disgustedly. “Of course not. We both know that.”

  The two man watched as the games went well into the evening with the man losing now and then, but mostly winning, especially the big pots. Finally he threw in his cards and said he was finished. The other men around the table groaned and didn't look too happy when he walked away with most of the money on the table, but they remained good humored about it.

  Thorn and Boxcar downed the last of their drinks and slipped out the back and around the alley corner to wait for the husky cowboy to come out the front. When he did, they followed him in the shadows.

  The man's boot clattered as he walked along the boardwalk, apparently oblivious to the possibility of being followed. Either that or he didn't care. In a few minutes, he was in a sparser part of town and entering the doorway to the Sulky Kitten. One of El Paso's famous ladies of the night locales.

  Following a hunch, Thorn cut off into the alleyway after motioning for Boxcar to watch the front. Slipping silently along the wall he peered around the corner to see a pair of men standing along the wall at the back door, one of them an Indian. They were talking quietly and one of them was smoking a cheroot. Thorn couldn't make out their faces in the dark, but he drew his gun and leaned up against the wall to watch. It was only a moment before the same cowboy they had been following exited the rear entrance and handed a bag to one of the men. That was the last thing Thorn saw before something struck him on the back of the head and he crumpled to the ground.

  When he started coming around, he groaned and looked up into Boxcar's face, the features of his friend swirling together until they finally came into focus. His voice sounded far away and Thorn waited for the fog to clear up in his brain so he could understand what Boxcar was saying. At the moment, he could see his lips move but the sounds were muted and far away.

  “You all right, Thorn?” Boxcar stared anxiously at his friend, searching his body for bullet holes or blood. Seeing none, he realized that he must have been knocked out.

  “Yeah...I think so,” replied Thorn groggily, trying to sit up. “What in the hell happened?”

  “I got a feeling something was wrong and I came around the corner to check on you and a man was bending over you. He ran when I yelled at him.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Not really, I know he had golden spurs on his boots though, I saw them flash in the moonlight. Didn't get a good look at his face, but he had a black hat with a turquoise stone in the center of the leather hat band.”

  “Good observations,” remarked Thorn, getting unsteadily to his feet. “I wonder if he's the one who hit me?”

  “I didn't see anyone else.”

  “There were two other men, one of them an Indian,” replied Thorn. “They were there in the alley by the back door and the man we were following handed them a bag when he came out the back door. That's all I saw before everything went black.”

  They walked over to the back door of the brothel and looked around. There were plenty of footprints in the red dirt, but nothing defining, no clues as to who had been there, except a cigar butt lying on the ground. Thorn picked it up and inspected it closely. Nothing identifying about it, just the kind you could buy at any mercantile. He tossed it back into the dust. Then he tried the back door, opening it to step inside.

  Off to the right was a staircase leading to rooms upstairs and straight ahead was a hallway that Thorn could see went into the main area of the brothel. He could see ladies and gentlemen talking and a piano playing. The laughter and squeals became louder as they made their way to the front and looked around.

  “Thorn!”

  Thorn looked to see who was hailing him and was pleased to see Sarah smiling at him from a seat at the bar. She crooked her finger at him and he smiled lazily as he threaded his way through the crowd to join her. He admired the low cut red gown she had on and his eyes drifted to the creamy expanse of exposed breast and back to the sparkling almond eyes of the young girl. Her fresh young look belied the experience of her years and Thorn felt a stirring in his loins as he watched her smooth a tendril of blonde hair back into the curly, haphazard chignon at the back of her head.

  “What are you doing here, Sarah? Fanny know you're here?” He took a seat beside her and introduced her to Boxcar. “This here is Boxcar and you have to watch him. He likes to take advantage of sweet young things like yourself.”

  Sarah's laughter tinkled merrily as she allowed Boxcar to kiss the back of her hand and eyed him with interest. “Delores is sick so Fanny sent me over to help her out for a few days. Keep an eye on things for her.” She looked back at Thorn with a sensuous smile. “What brings you in here, Thorn? Isn't this a little out of your territory?”

  “A bit,” admitted Thorn. He ordered a drink and then focused his attention on Sarah once more. “You see a man come through here a short time ago and on out the back door?”

  “Yes, saw him come back in too.”

  “You mean he came back through?” asked Boxcar, dragging his eyes from the magnificent bust line and back to Sarah's face.

  “Maybe,” purred Sarah, enjoying herself. “Maybe not. My memory isn't as good as it used to be.”

  “Maybe we should go somewhere private to I can jog that memory for you,” replied Thorn silkily.

  “And just how would you plan on doing that?” Sarah arched a coy eyebrow at Thorn, a delighted smile curving her pink lips as she remembered the last meeting with the handsome cowboy. She had almost had him in her bed, but he had opted out at the last moment. Fanny had told her that Thorn was a one-woman kind of man, but she didn't know who that woman was. Said he hadn't confided that deeply in her yet. Even if he had, Sarah knew Fanny would not disclose it. She guarded a confidence like it was a government secret, and Thorn was a favorite of hers. She also wondered if Thorn had ever shared Fanny's bed, but that too would never be disclosed.

  Thorn looked at her, a devilish gleam in his eye. “Oh, I think a few minutes over my knee ought to do the trick,” he drawled, enjoying her expression as her eyes opened wide.

  “Kinky, huh? I never would have guessed it, Thorn,” she replied delightedly.

  “Uh...no...that would be me,” interjected Boxcar, flashing her a wicked smile. “Thorn here would just spank you until you told him what he wanted to hear. Now me...I can think of whole lot of other things to do with that beautiful ass besides just spanking it.” His eyes held all kinds of promises and Sarah was intrigued.

  “Well, looks like I might just have to hold out for those promises, cowboy,” she cooed, staring boldly at him. Sarah didn't take many customers, she had the looks to pick and choose and she was expensive. She usually handled gentlemen and she could tell that Boxcar was a
gentlemen, but he looked like a devilish rake too. Just her type. She crooked her finger at Boxcar and headed for the stairs with a hip-shaking walk. At the bottom of the stairs she glanced over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  Boxcar took off his hat and grinned at Thorn. “I'll see you later, old buddy.”

  Thorn watched for a minute as the two mounted the stairs and thought of Clary. He wished he was in Potluck with her right now; it had been too damned long since he had held her in his arms. It had been one of the reasons he had left Pennsylvania. Clary was a well-bred young lady, not one whose reputation he wanted to sully. He wasn't ready to settle down and still wasn't. Having her here under his feet would be hell on his libido and he wasn't sure how long he could hold out before he had to bed her. He didn't want to ruin her and he didn't want to marry her...it was a hell of a situation!

  Thorn was no celibate, but his trysts with women had been few and far between. No other woman interested him like Clary and he knew eventually that he wanted to settle down with her, but for now, his job was too dangerous. The west was too dangerous!

  He tossed back the rest of his shot and headed out the front door, keeping a sharp eye out. Whoever had knocked him in the head was probably still around. He kept to the shadows as he made his way towards the better part of town, keeping his feet silent on the boardwalk. When a shot rang out in the alley ahead of him, he drew his gun and stopped at the corner to peer around it. Seeing the man lying on his back, his arms flung out and no one else around, he quickly hurried to his side. It was Slim!

  “We need to get you to a doctor,” Thorn said, but he knew it was too late. Slim had been gut shot and no man recovered from that. It was a mean way to die.

  “Too late,” gasped Slim, knowing full well what was happening. “It was Hank...he shot me, took all the money we got paid for Mrs. Clausen's deal.” He coughed, his hands gripping Thorns arm as he tried to get his words out.