Painted Lady

by Roxy Harte

  Lucy bit her bottom lip. “Why would she even consider helping me?”

  “To earn back what she lost, maybe?” He winked. “Have Mr. Farris talk to her. They have been very close in the past.”

  Mr. Farris? The name rang a bell. Oh, yes, one of the lawyers. “And how do you suggest I broach the subject with Mr. Farris?”

  Georgie grabbed his hat. “I'll go over to his office immediately and schedule you an appointment.”

  Lucy opened her mouth and closed it; Georgie's insinuation was clear. Was this how a madam did things? Dear Lord, she felt inadequately prepared. What if she mucked things up? Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a loud clap. Squeals and footfalls immediately sounded upstairs as the other girls reacted to the violence of the storm. Lucy touched Georgie's arm. “After the storm. I'd never forgive myself if you were killed crossing the road.”

  “Your kindness is duly noted, Miss Lucy. There'll be a place in heaven for you someday.”

  Leaving Georgie to go back to his tasks, she didn't correct the impression. It was bad enough she knew that it was pure selfishness insisting he stay put awhile longer. She certainly wasn't brave enough or knowledgeable enough to seduce the lawyer.

  She joined Daniel at his table. He immediately pushed Véronique off his lap, which irritated Lucy, because he'd seen her walking toward him. He could have pushed the woman off his lap sooner. For that matter, he might have not allowed her to take a seat there at all.

  “Some privacy?” She addressed both women and waited for them to walk away before sitting in one of the chairs. “You overheard all?”

  “Enough to know the dangerous water you tread.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “This might be California, but even if you were a white woman, Mrs. Finkelstein wouldn't be caught dead in the same room with the likes of you.”

  “I would have an intermediary.”

  “Mr. Farris?”

  She nodded slightly. Daniel stood and tipped his hat. “I would dissuade you from this folly, madam, and would encourage you to seek other available recourse.”

  He left her sitting by the window, staring through the window at the rain and sipping coffee long gone cold. She worried about what he had meant. Dangerous water. She wished folks could just say what they meant instead of hinting around it.

  A long time passed before she was motivated to dress for the day, and when she did, she chose the bright turquoise velvet that revealed the peacock feathers accentuating the bodice beneath at the neckline. As she entered the hallway, shouts from outside drew her to the window at the top of the stairs. “We want the owner of this establishment to join us on the street for a conversation!”

  Four men on horseback all aimed rifles at Thunder.

  Without thinking, she raced to Thunder's room, where she found his spare rifle. Throwing open the window, she aimed at the man on horseback doing all the talking.

  “Who are you to stand in our way?” one of the men demanded.

  “I'm the sheriff.”

  “Say your prayers, because today you meet your maker, half-breed.”

  Expecting him to fire, she looked at Thunder but saw his rifle lay on the ground, too far away to grab. His pistol was still stuck in his holster.

  Thunder. Thunder. Thunder! What are you doing?

  Lucy fired.

  As the man toppled from his saddle, Thunder reacted, drawing his pistol and shooting two of the remaining men. The fourth dropped his weapon and held up his hands. That was when Lucy saw a fifth horse with an empty saddle and heard loud voices coming from her saloon.

  She hurried back down the stairs, reloading the gun as she ran.

  It was cocked and ready by the time she aimed at the man lifting her piano player by his throat. “I said I want to speak to the owner.”

  Lucy aimed. “So speak.”

  He turned, faced her, and dismissed her with the glance. “I said I want to talk to the owner, not one of the owner's whores.”

  “I am the new owner.”

  He dropped Clancy, who fell to his knees and fought to breathe. Turning to face her, he took a step toward her. “You? What trickery is this?”

  Lucy still held the rifle she'd just fired. “What can I do for you?”

  “I've heard of a man hiding behind a woman, but…a man hiding behind his slave.” He laughed and looked around the room. If he was waiting for someone to dispute her claim, none came forward, and none would. Ignoring that she held a gun or believing she wouldn't use it, he charged her, wrapping his meaty hands around her throat, trapping the barrel of the rifle between them. “You can start by sucking my dick, whore.”

  Lucy spit in his face.

  The man slapped her hard enough to make her ears ring. “And after you finish, you can tell me where that sissy-boy master of your'n is.”

  “I am a free woman, and you are trespassing within my establishment. Please remove your hands.” The man laughed and slapped her again. As he tried to force her to her knees, the gun discharged.

  * * *

  Flint noticed the lone rider from the ridge, riding hard for the ranch, and elbowed Daniel. “That your woman?”

  Daniel reined his horse in and looked over the edge of the ridge. A lathered horse was riding as hard as it could; its owner's skirts were flapping in the breeze. Lucy? “That's the sheriff's horse. Somethin' must have happened in town.”

  The two men raced toward the ranch, but Daniel veered through a steep pine grove to reach Lucy first. She had dismounted and was striding toward the door.

  “Lucy?”

  She turned on her heel to face him. Seeing that the front of her dress was covered with blood, Daniel leaped from his horse and raced to the porch. “Have you been shot?”

  “It's not my blood.”

  He looked hard at her face, noted a deep bruise forming on her cheekbone. He saw red. “What happened?”

  Calmly Lucy explained. “I'd like to discuss hiring your men for protection at my establishment.”

  “We're not for hire.” He didn't know what game Lucy was up to, but he certainly wasn't interested in participating. “There's a sheriff in town to keep the peace.” A tragic thought occurred to him. “That isn't the sheriff's blood, is it?”

  “No!” Lucy looked offended he would even suggest such a thing. She repeated, “No,” and collapsed.

  Daniel caught her and lifted her into his arms. He carried her inside and laid her on his bed. Without thought, he pulled a knife from his ankle sheath and started cutting off her gore-covered clothing. When he was finished, she lay nude but still caked with drying blood.

  Horse hooves pounded hard outside, and a moment later Flint burst in. “Good Lord. How badly is she injured?”

  “Not her blood.” Daniel handed the soiled clothing to Flint. “Burn 'em, then ride into town and try to discover what in the hell happened. Don't let anyone know she's here. Take Sid with you; he's in the lower paddock.”

  Flint hurried to do as he was bade, and Daniel went about the task of putting on a kettle of water to heat and washing her body. As he wiped her face, she roused, sitting up with a startled cry. “Where am I?”

  Daniel tilted his head, a fresh worry knitting his brow. “You don't remember riding to the ranch?”

  “What? I'm afraid I don't understand.”

  He left her sitting on the bed to make her a cup of tea and, after, carried a full, steaming mug to her. She rubbed her forehead with a shaking hand, distress written all over her face. “I kill—”

  “Sh-h. Drink.” He handed her the tea, but she was shaking too badly to drink. Daniel helped her, making sure she swallowed several gulps before taking it away from her mouth. He set the cup on the floor and knelt beside the bed.

  Sitting cross-legged, Lucy rubbed her head, oblivious to the nude tableau she presented. “It wasn't a dream. Oh God, I remember. I came here for help.”

  “Yes. You said you wanted to hire my men for protection. Who do you need protection
from?”

  “No one?” She laughed, edging on hysteria. “Everyone?”

  Daniel thought a shot of whiskey might help more than the tea and started to stand to fetch some. She caught his hand. “Stay with me.”

  “I'm not going far.” He reached into the jacket he had hanging on a peg near the bed and retrieved a flask. He handed it to her and waited for her to take a swig. “Whose blood were you covered in?”

  “I shot a man inside my bar.”

  “You what?” He grabbed the flask then took a long swallow before handing it back.

  “He attacked my piano player, and then he attacked me.” Her expression broke. A short sob followed, but no tears. “I killed two men.”

  Two? Blessed Mary. He watched her face, seeking the truth she wasn't saying with words. He hoped her mind would be all right after the shock of the events wore off. She seemed stable, but he'd never met a woman yet who wouldn't break down eventually. The few tears she'd shed seemed the brink of what would come. She shivered, her damp skin covered with gooseflesh.

  “I assure you it was purely self-defense.” She took another swallow from the flask.

  “Is a jury going to see it that way?”

  “A jury? He was going to kill me. You believe me, don't you?”

  Daniel shushed her and pressed a kiss to her mouth. He took the flask from her hand and set it on the bedside table. “I believe you. Just sometimes other folks' perceptions get all messed up, and I need to know if that sheriff is gonna come out here lookin' to lynch you.”

  Lucy looked shocked. “He wouldn't! I saved his life.” She explained everything that had happened from beginning to end. “I can pay you.”

  “You can't afford me.”

  “Please? I don't ever want to hold a gun again, and as much as it galls me to ask for help, I need more security than a lone sheriff can provide.”

  Kissing her gently, Daniel pushed her back down onto the mattress. She looked like death itself, and he wondered about the last real sleep she'd had. He stretched out beside her and tilted her jaw so he could inspect the bruise. He kissed the purple skin gently. “The man you shot did this to you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He kissed her eyelids closed. “Then I suppose he deserved it.”

  Keeping her eyes closed, Lucy fumbled with the edge of his shirt, pushing it up to reveal skin. She pushed her hands under the shirt, rubbing him. “Make love to me, Daniel. Make me forget the last few hours.”

  He let her rub her hands over his skin, not stopping her when she opened his pants. She found him hard, ready, and he didn't mind at all when her hand closed tight around his length. “I won't force you to fuck me, Daniel, if you're not wanting to, but I'd be much pleased if you did.”

  He cupped her face and kissed her—eyelids, nose, lips. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and sucked her nipples. “Look at me.”

  She did, and he saw her eyes watery with unshed tears.

  He kissed her again, holding her gaze. “I would have never had you know what it feels like to kill a man, but now that you do, know this: it's better to kill and live another day for the killin' than to die.” He filled her, rocking gently on top of her. “I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  She met his rhythm. “It shouldn't matter. I shouldn't care.”

  “It always matters when a man dies.”

  Her tears fell then, her face twisting. Daniel held her while she sobbed, and pulled a soft orgasm from her before tucking around her. “Sleep.”

  * * *

  Lying with her, he held her, stroking her while she dozed.

  Flint returned within an hour, and Daniel eased out of the bed to meet him at the door. “Sheriff said she killed a man. Witnesses said it was justifiable.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Lucy, who appeared to be still sleeping. He joined Flint on the porch and closed the door. “What else did he say?”

  “He has one of 'em in his jail. It seems the issue that brought the men to town was the rumor a negro is now the owner of the hotel. Someone sent them.”

  “I see. This guy in the jail happen to say who sent them?”

  “He wouldn't commit one way or the other. Trouble's gonna keep coming, ain't it?”

  Feeling Lucy's presence on the other side of the door, he didn't answer. He opened the door to reveal her and knew the instant he saw the set of her jaw that she'd heard the exchange. Wordlessly she strode past him. “Flint, give me a lift back to town? Please.”

  To his credit, the man waited until Daniel nodded, giving his approval. There certainly wasn't any use arguing with her. He caught up with them outside, just as Flint was asking, “You're going to pay us?”

  “Mr. Hatch doesn't believe I will be able to afford your rate.”

  “Meals and whiskey included?”

  Daniel couldn't believe Flint was negotiating terms without knowing more about what he was going to be up against.

  “Meals, two shots of whiskey at the end of the shift, and all the coffee you can drink during.”

  Flint rubbed his jaw. “Women?”

  Lucy shrugged. “That's between you and them.”

  Flint spit. “Beats sitting around here all day watching buzzards.”

  Lucy sighed, sounding relieved as she asked, “You think any of the other men will be interested?”

  Flint shook his head. “The vaqueros left this morning. They're headed back to Mexico for the winter. I think me'n Sid can handle any trouble that comes your way.”

  “Now just hold up there. Lucy and I have some talking to do before any business arrangements can be made.” Daniel pushed Flint away from his horse and mounted it in his stead. Turning to face Lucy, he found her straddling Thunder's horse with her arms crossed over her chest and looking as mad as a hornet.

  “I love you.”

  He didn't expect that. A long, uncomfortable moment passed between them.

  “I need help, Daniel. I'd feel safer if you were at the hotel. Knowing how I feel, shouldn't you at least feel obliged to keep me alive?”

  “You've chosen an impossible path. There will always be those who will say you shouldn't own that damn hotel. Trouble will always be a breath away, Lucy. I will not always be near enough to keep you safe. I can only guess the sheriff wasn't near when you ended up with blood all over your person. Can you deny that?”

  “No.”

  “So, he cannot always be near either.” Reaching into his belt, he withdrew a small gun and a knife. “I was going to give you these before I left. Now's as good a time as any. Keep these on you or near you at all times; be willing to use them.”

  “I don't want to kill again.”

  “By necessity, you may have to.”

  “This looks like a woman's gun.”

  “Yes, it belonged to a woman who was once very important to me.”

  “A wife?”

  “No, my mother. By my recollection, it's been used a few times, once to wound, twice to kill. The West is a hard place, Lucy. You're going to have to face and accept that.”

  “The man she wounded, did he leave her alone…after?”

  Daniel smirked. “My father never laid a hand on her again, nor did he ever get drunk again.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? Understand? You have to make the decision here and now that you will be willing to kill to stay alive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two days passed uneventfully. The saloon seemed crowded with Thunder and Daniel there around the clock. Neither man knocked on her door, and by the middle of the second day, she thought she might go stark-raving mad watching them stare at each other.

  She kept her appointment with Mr. Farris.

  Sitting on the opposite side of his desk, her fingers laced so tightly together they'd gone numb, she had no idea how to broach the subject, and the man wasn't exactly forthcoming. He sat across from her, staring at her.

  After several long moments, he looked at his
pocket watch. “Was there something in particular, Miss Bowman?”

  “Yes. I just don't know how to ask.”

  He waited.

  “There is a woman of your acquaintance—Mrs. Finkelstein.”

  Mr. Farris stood, walked to his office door, and opened it. Lucy stood, his meaning clear enough, but he didn't wait for her to go—he left, leaving her alone in his office. She wasn't surprised when Daniel came looking for her. He found her on the crowded boardwalk, walking toward the saloon, but still on the far end of town. She kept walking, and he joined her.

  “Georgie told me where to find you.”

  Lucy shrugged, still sulking from her recent failure. Daniel looped her hand over his bent elbow. “You wanted me to protect you. I'm here. I'm trying to keep you safe. I shouldn't have to ask someone where you went.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  Daniel stopped walking, keeping a tight rein on her arm to prevent her from going on without him. He turned her so that it appeared they were looking at the milliner's window display. He whispered near her face, “Any luck on your errand?”

  She shook her head. “As soon as I said, 'Mrs. Finkelstein,' he ran.”

  “Ran?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever think you might want to be less direct?”

  She gaped at him. “I didn't even ask the question.”

  He smiled, deviously. “You said too much. You spooked him. You have to be less direct, and I'll have to give you another lesson.”

  Lesson? Her eyebrow arched. The promise was almost enough to lift her from her doldrums. She smiled and steered him back onto the walkway. “I think I would like to hear your ideas. Perhaps we should retire to someplace more private.”

  Daniel winked. “That would be best.”

  * * *

  Daniel pushed her into her room and sat her in the chair in front of her mirrored vanity. He leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “Pay attention.”

  She didn't understand what he had in mind exactly as he left the room, and realized all too clearly when he opened the door and admitted Véronique. Surprised by the turn of events, she looked into the mirror so as to not have to look at the woman directly.