by Reece Butler
Bride Train 5
1 Bed, 2 Weddings, 3 Husbands
Desperate to escape her scandalous past, Victoria Edison heads west to a respectable future. When a storm traps her for three nights on the J Bar C Ranch, she’s faced with a choice of marriage or shame.
Jed Adams says he detests the shrew but she can cook and, since his partners want her, agrees to wed the voluptuous woman in a civil ceremony. But their new life is destroyed when the wedding is annulled by a vengeful business rival. Unless they remarry with a preacher, Victoria will lose the respectability she craves, Clint and Riley will lose the woman they’ve come to love, and Jed will lose the new light in his life. But Jed’s the son of a vicious Bible-thumping hypocrite and will have nothing to do with a preacher.
Can Victoria face the rival’s wrath, and Jed his nightmarish past, to bring love into their lives?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 75,641 words
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1 BED, 2 WEDDINGS,
3 HUSBANDS
Bride Train 5
Reece Butler
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
1 BED, 2 WEDDINGS, 3 HUSBANDS
Copyright © 2012 by Reece Butler
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-373-4
First E-book Publication: January 2012
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
As always, this is for the three men in my life: Paul, Andy, and David.
I’d also like to thank the wonderful people I’ve met in Montana while researching. Thank you for welcoming me into your homes and lives, for sharing your knowledge, and not laughing too much when I messed up while working on your ranches.
Most importantly, thank you to my loyal readers, who encourage me to keep discovering the people of Tanner’s Ford.
1 BED, 2 WEDDINGS,
3 HUSBANDS
Bride Train 5
REECE BUTLER
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Tanner’s Ford, Main Street
Tuesday, May 7th, 1872
“That dresser goes in the bedroom. And please be careful. Mr. Smythe called it a family heirloom.”
Jed Adams studied the commanding woman in the ugly dirt-brown dress and bonnet. Whoever she was, she’d almost swooned when they pulled up and offered to help unload the delivery wagon. She immediately told them they had to work quickly as dark clouds threatened bad weather.
The plan was for him and his two partners to help empty Smythe’s wagon. They’d wave good-bye to the hired deliverymen then remove something valuable from the house and take it back to the J Bar C ranch. They’d hold it until Smythe paid the long-overdue bill for their cattle.
An interfering woman was not in their plan.
She perched on the delivery wagon’s seat like a nervous spinster at a bachelor party. She kept her knees tight together, hands in her lap, and lips pressed together when not giving orders. But she couldn’t hide the well-curved ass overflowing the narrow wagon seat. He caught her looking at Riley and Clint when they bent over to pick up the bed. She blushed like a virgin and turned away, but Jed saw her eyes straying back to his partners again.
The heavy dresser was the last piece of furniture, but the three crates left on the wagon interested him. They had to get home before the weather hit, but first they needed something small that was worth a lot.
“Jed?”
Clint Fortune and Riley Jansen, his partners, waited for an answer to a question they wouldn’t ask out loud.
“Too big,” he said, “but those crates look right.”
Because the dang woman said she’d be staying at Smythe’s house, they couldn’t slip something from the house. The crates, hidden underneath bulky furniture, likely held precious goods. Riley and Clint nodded understanding. They’d take and hold the crates at the J Bar C while waiting for their gold from Smythe.
“I’ll carry the lady’s drawers,” said Riley, grinning at her.
Pink spots appeared as if she understood his double meaning, but pretended not to. Clint and the deliverymen carried the dresser into the house, following Riley. Jed waited for them to return to the wagon before picking up the first crate. He grunted at its weight.
“Those go in Mr. Smythe’s bedroom,” she said.
Jed carried it to the J Bar C wagon. He shoved it forward to make room for the others.
“Excuse me, sir, that box goes in the house. Why are you putting it in your wagon?”
When he ignored her, the woman waved her hand to get his attention. No gloves or lace stuck out of her plain, ugly brown cotton cuffs. Riley took the second box, staggering a bit. Though two inches taller, he didn’t have Jed’s muscle or determination.
“What are you doing?” She stood up. “S
top! Those crates don’t belong to you!” She turned to the two deliverymen. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”
They shrugged as if it had nothing to do with them. She snarled something Jed didn’t catch and scrambled off the seat into the wagon bed. She set her ass on the last box just as Clint hopped up. She crossed her arms, spine straight, and dared him to move her. Jed watched what would happen. Clint was the most easygoing of them, but this was his plan. He’d do whatever he had to in order to get their cattle back. Since Clint preferred ample women, lifting one into his arms would suit him fine. He looked her over for a bit, started a slow smile, and reached.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me!”
Clint stopped, no doubt hearing the same fear as Jed. Fear, but with the same willpower he recognized in his partners. She was an ornery one, all right. But so were they.
Jed almost smiled at the way she glared up at Clint. Did she think her weight would keep them from taking something belonging to Mr. Frederick Smythe, liar, cheat, and four-flusher? It was going into the wagon with the J–C brand no matter what she did.
Jed looked around for onlookers, but for once, no idlers watched from the boardwalk. The deliverymen, now leaning against Smythe’s extravagant house, snickered. Likely they’d had enough of the blasted woman all the way from Bannack City.
“Ma’am,” Jed said quietly, “if you stand up so Clint can get that crate, we won’t have to touch you.”
“I am not moving until you put Mr. Smythe’s belongings in his house!”
“Your choice.”
Clint’s eyes lit up. He nodded politely and reached, aiming for her waist.
“Help! Thieves!”
She screamed as if he was about to slit her throat or something. Clint stopped.
“That’s it!”
Jed swung himself onto the wagon behind the woman. He put his hands around her waist and lifted. She screeched, flinging her arms up and kicking back at him. Her boot caught his shin. He muttered a curse and spread his legs so she couldn’t hit him again. Meanwhile, Clint handed the heavy crate down to Riley, who stashed it on their wagon, grinning the whole time.
She threw her head back and banged it on his shoulder, almost hitting his chin. Now that they had what they came for, he laughed at her efforts to hurt him. There was enough hair piled in her bonnet that, no matter how hard she hit, it wouldn’t hurt.
He should put her down, but who knew when he’d touch a woman again? Her waist was thick enough that his fingers didn’t touch. Wide hips flared under his hands. Her full bottom rubbed against his pants as she struggled. His cock automatically reacted, straining to escape. It didn’t matter that she was the last woman he’d want in his bed. She was female, she was soft, and that made him damn hard.
He gave in to his devil and looked down. Sure enough, she had breasts that might even overflow his large hands. He leaned into her neck and inhaled. He smelled a light scent under the expected stink from travelling a week or more without the chance to bathe. He took another whiff. Did every woman smell so good even when she stank?
She shuddered and stopped fighting. “Put me down so I may find the sheriff and have you all arrested.”
Instead, Jed lifted her up and down to judge her weight. Too cantankerous for him, but there were two other ranches looking for wives. She was big enough to hold on to and not break if a man got carried away now and then. That meant she was big enough to handle three men. Luke Frost at the Circle C already had his eye on Sarah Unsworth, but maybe the Southern boys on the Flying X would want her. Pity about her high-handedness and fishwife screech. He’d never take orders from a woman, other than Aunt Chrissie. She saved his life, so he owed her. Not this one, though.
“You got your way with me, you cur, so let me go!”
“If I’d done that, ma’am, you’d be too limp to talk.”
Riley burst into laughter. Even Clint smiled. She gasped, and a bright flush appeared above her tight collar. She understood the other meaning of what she’d said, and his reply. She wasn’t so innocent after all.
“Set the woman down, Jed.”
Owen Barstow, his vest sporting the five-pointed star recently handed over from Frank Chambers, had strolled over from the jail next door. Jed saw his bushy moustache twitch when he looked over the situation. Barstow’s new wife was well known to be opinionated, so he’d be used to cantankerous women.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.”
Jed gave her a quick squeeze before he set her feet down and released her. He quickly turned away and hopped off the side of the wagon. He figured she was the type to take a swing at him, but he also had to get behind something to hide his cock’s eagerness. He nodded a howdy at Barstow, who turned his head before winking, so the woman wouldn’t see. Jed felt his ears burn. The man missed nothing.
“Sheriff? Oh, thank goodness!” She wavered and grabbed onto the wagon seat.
Barstow tipped his hat at the woman and nodded a greeting at the deliverymen.
“You seem a mite riled, ma’am. What’s yer story?”
She clasped her hands in front of her so hard her fingers were white. She cleared her throat and smiled at the sheriff. It changed her face from mulish to almost handsome. Not pretty, but not so bad that you’d only want to bed her after blowing out the lamp.
“I am Miss Victoria Edison, and I have a contract with Mr. Frederick Smythe to deliver his goods to this address and set up his household. I’m to be his housekeeper until other arrangements are made. I was pleased when these men offered to help unload, but they put the last three boxes on their wagon. Please demand these thieves return what they stole!”
“Thieves?” Barstow’s eyebrows rose. “You mean Jed Adams, Riley Jansen, and Clint Fortune?”
He pointed to each man as he named him. Jed and Clint nodded while Riley, being Riley, took off his hat and gave the woman a charming smile. He said females liked his blond hair, so he made sure they knew about it first thing.
“Yes. They took Mr. Smythe’s most precious goods.”
Her smile disappeared when she looked at Jed. In fact, her expression resembled Grandpa Fortune’s old billy goat, the one with the evil eye and worse temper. He winced in memory of the times he’d been caught by that damned goat and knocked arse over teakettle.
“We aren’t stealing anything, ma’am,” said Clint calmly. She sent her glare his way. “Mr. Smythe seems to have forgotten we have a contract. He took our cattle but never paid. So we’re going to hold these crates as a reminder.”
“When we get the gold, he gets his boxes back,” added Riley.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” asked the shorter of the two hired men, “the wagon’s empty. If’n you could climb down, we’d be on our way.”
Miss Edison stared down at them from the top of the wagon. She looked so stiff she could have been stuck on the bow of a sailing ship to point the way across the cold ocean. Clint, ever the gentleman, lifted his hands.
“Let me help you down, ma’am. This wagon is mighty high, and I don’t want you to fall.”
She swept them with an icy glare which softened slightly when she looked at Clint. No wonder, as the girls back home always said he was handsome. She turned her back to climb down and lifted her skirt slightly with her right hand. Her feet were dainty for a woman her size. Her boots were scuffed, and when Clint lifted her, Jed saw the soles were worn though in a couple of places. Was she dressed so plain because she wanted to, or because she had no money for anything better?
When Clint didn’t release her immediately, she jabbed him in the chest with her elbow. He chuckled and stepped back, blowing on his hands as if she were too hot to handle. She blushed again. Jed sighed. Clint always had the ladies smiling at him. This one, though she was a shrew, was still affected by his cousin. Seems Clint appreciated her in return.
The deliverymen turned their wagon around and headed east, back to Bannack City. Jed walked over to Riley, who’d climbed onto their wagon.
“Drive
slow, in case there’s breakables in those crates,” said Jed. They were heavy enough to contain gold, but he didn’t want anyone to suspect it. Riley nodded, his eyes showing he knew what Jed really meant.
“No, you don’t!” Miss Edison stomped forward and grabbed the horse’s reins. She had a glare that would tarnish brass. “You’re not going anywhere with Mr. Smythe’s possessions. Tell them, Sheriff.”
“Well, now, I can’t rightly do that, miss. Smythe owes these men a good bit of gold, and everyone knows it. That makes him about as welcome around here as a wet dog at a parlor social. But don’t worry about them crates. I trust the J Bar C to hold them safe until they get paid. I’ll explain things to Smythe.”
“No.” She gripped the reins harder. “I signed my name that I would personally ensure these items are carefully stowed in Mr. Smythe’s home, unopened. I will not break a contract and ruin my good name. These boxes will not be taken from my sight.”
Clint raised an eyebrow, reminding Jed of his suggestion they tell the sheriff beforehand. Jed had hoped no one would notice. At least the sheriff stood behind them.
“Ma’am, I’m taking this wagon, and everything on it, to the J Bar C.” Jed stared her down like he would a cantankerous mule. “My family is not going to be cheated out of what is theirs.” She opened her mouth, so he held up his finger to stop her talking. “Smythe will get it all back, untouched, as soon as we get what’s ours.”
Sheriff Barstow took off his hat, smoothed his hair, and set it back again. He sighed. “Stand aside, Miss Edison.”
