Butler, Reece - 1 Bed, 2 Weddings, 3 Husbands [Bride Train 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  Chapter Fourteen

  “There! That’s the last of them.”

  Miss Victoria Edison set the sadiron on the stove. All the linens were now washed, ironed, and folded. The windows were washed, floors scrubbed, furniture waxed, pantry filled, and everything else that should be done to complete her contract.

  If only she were doing it in her own home, on the J Bar C, as Mrs. Jed Adams. Instead she was setting up Mr. Smythe’s home, in town. She didn’t know what she was. Not a maid, since she was no longer a virgin. Not a wife or widow, and certainly not a mistress. A spurned woman? No, she was the one who refused to stay.

  What does one call oneself when, after two weeks of wedded bliss, one is told no marriage had taken place?

  Benjamin Elliott had already sent a telegram on her behalf to the men who appointed the new judge. Even if Judge Thatcher’s powers weren’t returned, they might rule she was still considered married. The argument would be stronger if she was with child. In that case, the marriage could stand until she gave birth, to give the child legitimacy. Immediately after the birth, she could get divorced.

  It was better if there was no child. Then, if Jed still wanted to marry her, he would do it for the right reasons. For themselves, not because there was a baby. She knew he’d do anything he could to save a baby the shame of illegitimacy. So would she.

  She carefully draped the crisp tablecloth over a dowel in the linen closet. She made sure there were no wrinkles. Then she slammed the door shut so hard it bounced open again.

  How dare a man wave his hand and declare the signed contract invalid? A judge was a judge, there was nothing wrong with the contract, and she was still married!

  “Damn!”

  She slapped her hands over her mouth. Nothing happened. The sky didn’t open up and smite her with a lightning bolt. No bony hand reached up from hell to drag her down.

  Victoria giggled nervously. She was alone, but someone could walk past and hear her. “Damn,” she whispered. It wasn’t good enough. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  She laughed at the silliness of it all. The word didn’t have any power. It was the meaning behind the word that counted. She didn’t want to damn anyone. Well, perhaps the trio who plagued her, Smythe, Jennet, and Rivers. Plus Judge Stickley, or Stinky, as Mary called him.

  There was another word which was given far too much power.

  Love.

  She loved it when Jed, and Clint, and Riley touched her. But that could be called mere lust. Lust was good. So good, that she already regretted her hasty decision to leave with the sheriff and his wife. But all she could think of was ending up unmarried and unwanted by good men, and pursued by the avaricious users who preyed on the women with few choices. She would not be seduced by promises and then shamed and humiliated.

  If the sheriff had given her time to think things over and talk with her men, she would have done things differently. At least, she hoped she would have.

  Love wasn’t mentioned in the words she spoke to Judge Thatcher. It was a civil contract, one they’d signed in good faith. If she married Jed again, she would have to promise to love him forever, though she wasn’t sure what love was.

  Some of the women she’d met on the train said a part of love was a willingness to put oneself in danger to save another. She would do it for her child, of course. And likely other children who needed rescuing. But when did a man need a woman to protect him?

  Her feet took her back to the kitchen. She wanted a cup of tea. Though her feelings for Jed were raw and confused, she missed his welcoming look when he came home each evening. It was almost as if he wondered if she would be there and finding her waiting made his life complete.

  Clint’s quiet, calm presence filled her with a sense of confidence and warmth. One smile and her petty worries seemed to evaporate. He was steady and true, with depths that she was only beginning to understand.

  Riley would bounce into the room with a wide smile and head straight for her. He wanted a kiss and a cuddle right off like an eager puppy, especially if Jed was already holding her. At first she thought Riley was out for fun and little else. In their last few days, however, she’d seen a different side of him. It only came out when the other two were away.

  And now her only company was bulky furniture covered in sheets.

  But she was almost finished and would move out tomorrow. Sophie could use help in the hotel kitchen, and Lily was looking for a live-in woman to do cooking and housekeeping. So said Nora Dawes, who’d rushed over yesterday, right after Sheriff Barstow dropped her off.

  Nora was full of news and helped Victoria dust and make the beds. She was thrilled that Rosa and Doc Henley were to be married at the same time as Lily and Judge Thatcher. Nora whispered that Miss Lily had run one of the finest sporting establishments west of the Missouri River. Victoria was shocked that Lily was an inmate and madam of a whorehouse for over twenty-five years, yet was marrying a judge. Rosa was kept prisoner for six years by Comancheros, one of those half-Mexican, half-Indian gangs which terrorized the South. Yet she’d put her past behind her and agreed to marry the town doctor.

  With Lily and Rosa as examples, why was she cowering in fear of condemnation by small-minded citizens?

  Once Mr. Smythe paid her for the wages he owed, she would be free of him. Then she could decide what to do next. Perhaps she would visit Jed and talk things out.

  Her nipples and clit sprang to attention. No, if she met Jed right now they wouldn’t be doing much talking. Not until a few other things were taken care of. She groaned. She wanted them to spend an hour kissing her pussy, her breasts, her feet, her mouth, and everything in between.

  She used the excuse of checking to see if the bedsheets were dry to go outside and cool off. She’d hung them over shrubs and bushes in the sunny rear yard. She felt the seams. Though clouds were heading in, the sheets needed a while longer.

  When she came in, a man stood in the wide hall by the stairs. He looked around, eyeing everything. He was tall, perhaps Jed’s height, but portly. He parted his slicked-down brown hair in the center. His moustache was rather slim for Western fashion.

  Mr. Frederick Smythe had arrived. No doubt many women would find him attractive, but she knew he was vile.

  “You didn’t meet me at the door,” he complained.

  “I beg your pardon. I was hanging sheets on the bushes to dry. I didn’t expect the stage until later.”

  “Stage? I hired a carriage, of course.”

  Now that she’d heard the soft, amusing tones of English aristocracy, thanks to the Double Diamond men, Smythe’s trade-class accent grated. But if he could afford a private carriage, he could pay her what he owed.

  “Everything’s ready. I’ll soon be out of your way.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He inspected her as if she were a bug he’d like to squash under his heel.

  “I’ve finished my contract. As soon as you pay me, I’ll let Mrs. Smythe take over.” She looked at the two trunks set by the door. “Did your wife not accompany you on this trip?”

  “I’m not married.” He brushed his moustache with his finger. “Neither are you, so I hear.”

  She clenched her teeth. She had to keep her mouth shut until she was paid. Then, she could walk away.

  “You said you would bring a wife.”

  “I haven’t found an acceptable one.”

  She blinked at him for a few seconds. Then she shook her head.

  “That’s unfortunate. I’ve finished everything, and I’m moving out.”

  “I have need of you.”

  The predatory look matched his insinuating tone. She would not be showing him upstairs, nor would she be alone with him, in a room, or this house.

  “If you wish to negotiate a new contract, Mr. Smythe, we can discuss it tomorrow. After I’m fully paid for completing this one.” She straightened her spine to her full height. It made them almost eye to eye. By the way he tilted back his head to look down his nose at her, he did not lik
e it at all.

  “Very well.” He reached into his suit pocket and brought out a paper. He didn’t offer it to her, or even show her what was written on it. “This is a bank draft. Unfortunately, Mr. Jennet is visiting friends in Helena. Once he returns I will have him cash out enough to pay you.”

  “Then we have nothing to discuss until he returns.”

  White patches appeared on his flushed face. “Do you not believe I have the funds?”

  She didn’t want to poke the warthog with a stick—he was no tiger—but this was business.

  “I’ve recently discovered that a piece of paper may not be worth the ink it is written on.” She also learned his word was worth nothing, but saying so to his face would not get gold in her pocket.

  He curled his lip, but reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a red velvet bag. He shook it for a moment, letting the coins clink together. He hesitated, then pulled the drawstring. He counted out sufficient coins, then put the bag safely back in his pocket. He held his hand out, his fingers curling down to easily drop the contents. When she stepped forward he released the coins, as she expected. She caught them in her apron, surprising him. In return for his rudeness, she checked each one carefully. She placed them in the pockets of her apron.

  She would have him pay her very well. Weekly, in advance. With the good weather, she had left all the main floor windows open. The jail was next door, the mercantile on the other side. If she screamed, someone would hear. She would not clean upstairs unless she knew he was gone for a while.

  “If you wish me to work here, you’ll have to pay for my room at the hotel. I’ll eat here, cooking for you.”

  “Why the hotel, when there’s a perfectly good pallet off the kitchen?”

  “As you say, I am an unmarried woman. I will not put myself, or my reputation, at risk.”

  “Your reputation? My dear, I know all about your mother and sister.” He threw back his head and brayed like a donkey.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riley snickered to himself as he listened to Smythe’s laugh. Of course the man would sound like an ass. He was one, through and through. When Riley saw Smythe arrive in the private carriage, he’d snuck around back. He watched Victoria check her sheets, and he now stood by the open kitchen window. She’d left the doors and windows open, so he could hear the two of them quite well, even though they were at the front of the house.

  “Your reputation is the same as your mother and sister, Miss Edison. No, it’s worse. At least they’re honest about what they’re selling.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” promised Riley to himself. “I’m not sure what that’s about, but I’m going to slice him so the devil can easily roast him in hell.”

  “I am an honorable woman!”

  “Honorable? You were living with three men.”

  “I married Jed Adams. His cousins share the ranch, so of course they lived with us.”

  “You were living in sin.”

  If Jed, or even Clint, had heard that, he’d be smashing Smythe’s face already. One thing Riley’s indolent life had taught was patience when setting a trap. He peered around the window frame. Smythe faced him, while Victoria had her back to him.

  Smythe arched his eyebrows. “And quite enjoying it, from what I hear.” She rushed forward, raising her hand to slap Smythe’s face. He grabbed her arm. “Don’t you dare strike me, girl, or you will receive far worse.”

  Riley watched, blood thundering in his ears, as Smythe squeezed. Riley’s nails dug into the fresh paint of the window frame in frustration. Victoria’s face turned white, but she did not cry or look away. She yanked her hand away when he released her. She did not cradle it or show any sign of pain, as most women would.

  “You’re stronger than your mother,” Smythe said as if discussing the weather. “She cries and begs me to stop.”

  Riley could only see Victoria’s back, but even from this distance, he saw her tremble.

  “She was most accommodating once I explained her choices.” The tip of Smythe’s tongue darted out for a second, like a snake about to strike. “Her skin bruises well, showing my marks for some time. Perhaps yours does as well.” He smoothed his moustache. “She cries so prettily. I wonder what it would take for you to cry.”

  “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!”

  As if he’d been playing with her, Smythe pulled himself to his full height. He yanked down his vest. His hand touched his gold pocket watch as if reassuring himself it was still there.

  “If you will move aside, I will leave.” She raised her head in return.

  He puffed up like an old horse fighting a belly strap and shook his head.

  “I did everything in my contract, Mr. Smythe. We are finished.”

  He shook his head in a slow, insulting rebuke. “We have barely begun, Miss Edison. You see, I want you.”

  “Me?” She took a step back. “Why?”

  “Because those bloody ranchers want you!” He flung his arm out in emphasis. Riley saw how Victoria flinched. “They took my cattle.” Smythe cleared his throat and pulled down his vest. “So I will take you.”

  Riley prepared to burst through the window if Smythe took one step toward her. She knotted her hands behind her back, but held her spine straight. She slowly shook her head.

  “You won’t use me for revenge. One scream, and the sheriff will come running.”

  “I won’t touch you until we’re married. Then no one will dare stop me from chastising my wife.”

  “I will never marry you!”

  “You will marry me, my dear, and you will pretend to enjoy it.”

  Marry? Smythe? Over Riley’s dead body, and that of his cousins. Hell, the whole valley and most of the town would help.

  “You can’t make me do anything, Mr. Smythe.”

  “Just like your mother, telling me what I can and can’t do.” His eyes gleamed. “She learned, and so will you.”

  “Never!”

  Smythe joined his hands in front of his belly. He showed her a politician’s practiced smile. She would never have known the dangerous tyrant of a few moments ago even existed.

  “Think on this, Victoria. You could be the wife of a wealthy, important man. You’ll have clothing, jewels, furs, and servants. A house here, in Helena, and a couple more in the East. You’ll entertain politicians, lawmakers, and anyone else I invite.”

  “I said, I will never marry you.”

  “Not even to protect your good name? Because if you refuse, I’ll give Mr. Hames an exclusive interview about you. It might even make the front page of the Helena Observer. Everyone will know your mother was a whore, though a very expensive one.”

  Riley cursed silently. Her mother must have been a rich man’s toy. That was why Victoria had been spit on. No wonder she cared so much about what others thought.

  “Did you ever know your father’s name, other than Victor?”

  Smythe waited, but Victoria didn’t speak.

  “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, as he’s dead. Pity about that. He lost everything due to gambling debts and shot himself in shame.” He ran his fingers over his gold pocket watch. Victoria must have recognized it, as her breath hitched.

  “Your sister is doing very well for herself. Unfortunately, her patron is having financial troubles. But she’s getting multiple offers for a new one. After all, she’s small, blonde, and an energetic seventeen.” He frowned and looked at Victoria from head to foot. “Frankly, I’d prefer to have her in my bed.” He brightened. “Perhaps your mother taught you the same skills as your sister?”

  Victoria choked out a few words, but Riley couldn’t understand them.

  “You have a choice, Miss Edison. A well-respected position in society as my wife, or be exposed as a whore.”

  “Don’t bother calling Mr. Hames. I’ll do it myself.” She growled the words through her stiff jaw. “I would rather be seen as the daughter of a whore, than live as your wife.”

  “Tut-tut-tut.” Smyt
he shook his head. “Not at all what I wanted to hear. We’ll up the ante, shall we? I shall expose the story about this valley’s preference for sharing women. They’ve managed to keep it fairly quiet, but no more. The governor’s wife is even more particular than Mrs. Jennet. I expect she’ll tell the governor to do something to clean out this nest of vipers. The ways of this valley are not suited to the high standards of the new Montana Territory.”

  “You are far more vile than anyone in this valley.”

  He watched her like a buzzard deciding where to land on a juicy corpse. “The vigilantes will certainly drop by. If they can’t get to the ranches, they might hang the men of the town for allowing it to happen. Perhaps even the hotel owner, Mrs. McLeod.”

  “You’d destroy an entire town?”

  “Not me, the vigilantes.” He blinked at her, wide-eyed, in complete innocence. “Perhaps targeting business owners would be a tad obvious. Mayhaps a few Elliotts and MacDougals might disappear.” He tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “An acquaintance of mine was interested in Jessie at one point, though she’s no longer innocent.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “That damned Trace Elliott adopted a pair of miner sisters. One’s too old to get a top price, but the younger one has those lovely golden-red curls.”

  Riley’s muscles trembled as he held back the rage that nearly overwhelmed him. Bridie Redmond was barely fifteen, a laughing, joyful child reaching womanhood. Doc said Molly Sinclair had once been like that. A year since her kidnapping, Molly could now smile again, but would never regain her innocence. Bridie’s sister, Meggie, was seventeen. She’d proven she had all the skills to run a home. Trace made it well known she wouldn’t be marrying before she was eighteen and that any man interested would talk to him first.

  “Yes, a child like that would be worth a pretty penny in the right market,” continued Smythe. “Not Bannack City this time. Virginia City, or perhaps Helena. Too far for rescue attempts and a much richer clientele.”