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

by Reece Butler

  Victoria gasped. “You’re talking about selling a child into white slavery!”

  Smythe raised an eyebrow and looked calmly down at her. “I am a businessman, Miss Edison, I buy and sell goods for a profit. I’m not fond of bedding children. I prefer a woman with a more ample figure.” He ran his eyes up and down her body.

  “You are a monster!” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, refusing to back away. Riley silently encouraged her.

  Smythe shrugged it off.

  Riley would be talking to the sheriff first thing, and then Trace. After what he just heard, he wouldn’t put it past Smythe to have the Sinclair family killed so he could take their ranch, which he’d lost to Ace in a card game. After her family was killed, someone had locked Molly up and used her as a private toy.

  “No one crosses me and gets away with it,” said Smythe to Victoria. “My cattle were stolen from me, and I will get vengeance against the J Bar C for it!”

  “They weren’t stolen, they were returned to their rightful owners,” declared Victoria. “You took their cattle and didn’t pay, so the town council ruled you no longer had a right to them. The Elliotts and other valley ranchers then rounded up the cattle. They had nothing to do with you.”

  “Oh, they have everything to do with me.” Smythe’s voice rose. “That bloody Elliott lawyer whispered lies around Helena. He destroyed something I’ve been working on for a year!” His mouth pulled down like a bulldog. “They’ll pay for that.” His voice turned slick as a politician’s promise. “Unless you agree to become my wife. That would keep your friends safe. Otherwise, those girls will disappear. Who knows how many years they’ll work before they die.” He smirked. “Perhaps they’ll eventually kill themselves from the shame. Such a pity.”

  Victoria’s ribs worked like a blacksmith’s bellows, and she swayed slightly. Riley hated that she had to hear about these perversions. To force himself to keep still and not interrupt, Riley planned the many ways he would destroy Smythe. He wouldn’t burn the house as it might spread to the mercantile, jail, or sheriff’s cabin. But he could haul Smythe’s personal things to the river and have a bonfire. The man was terrified of horses, so they could rope him, hang him between two half-wild mustangs so his toes dragged, and chase them through the brush.

  “You will marry me, or I shall I destroy your friends.”

  She didn’t move an inch as she stared him down. Finally, she spoke. Riley had to almost stick his head in the window to hear her quiet words.

  “How will I know you won’t harm them anyway?”

  He laughed. “That’s the wonderful thing, my dear. You won’t. Unless you follow every one of my orders, I will destroy your life, and that of your friends. Only, they won’t be your friends when I’m finished.”

  Her hands twitched at her sides.

  “What orders?”

  “As my wife you will wear what I tell you, behave as I wish, use your body to gain information, and—”

  Her gasp interrupted him. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

  “When I need information, I expect my wife to get it for me. No matter how.”

  “You want to turn me into a whore, just for revenge.” She spat the words.

  “My dear girl,” he drawled, “you already are a whore. It’s just that no one here knows it. Yet.”

  Victoria was the finest woman Riley had met, other than his Aunt Chrissie. It tortured him to have Smythe say those words to her. He wanted to chain Smythe above a bonfire. He’d let the flames climb up the body, heating the metal. By the time Smythe’s gag burned off, the man wouldn’t be able to scream anymore.

  Smythe gave Victoria a tight smile. “I’ll give you until tomorrow evening to decide.” He nodded genially. “I’ll be dining with Mr. Hames. He’s writing an exclusive interview on me. I will see you in the morning.”

  Smythe closed the door behind him, leaving Victoria alone. She stood still, as if waiting for him to return to see if she’d collapsed. The minutes passed. Riley heard Smythe’s voice on the boardwalk, calling to someone across the street. Only then did she lean her head against the wall. She shuddered.

  If Smythe’s words curdled Riley’s blood like bitter acid, what did they do to Victoria? Would she agree with Smythe’s scheme? She said she’d tell her story to Hames so Smythe couldn’t blackmail her into marriage. But she was badly affected by the thought of a young girl being hurt if she refused Smythe.

  Though he wanted to rush in and take her away to safety, she needed to make this decision herself. To rise above the shame she felt in her heart, she had to come to terms with her past and make a stand. If she chose a life with them over Smythe, no matter what others thought, she would gain a confidence that could only come from within. In return, they would learn how she truly felt about them. Therefore, she couldn’t know he’d heard anything. At least, not until she stated her decision. He snuck away, back to the mercantile, so he could arrive as if nothing had happened.

  Smythe was either far more powerful than anyone knew or very stupid if he thought he could attack the precious children of one of the most powerful families in the area. Anyone who touched Bridie would have Trace and his five brothers, three brothers-in-law, three MacDougals, and most of the town raging after them.

  It was only a year ago that Ross MacDougal lost his chance for vengeance against the men accused of attacking and murdering his young cousin many years earlier. Ross was furious when the two men were shot in their jail cell before a trial could start. He insisted they were killed because they could identify the gang leader, the only one unaccounted for.

  Ross might enjoy the opportunity to “encourage” Smythe to provide information that might stop other young girls from the same fate. His skill with knives was legendary, and he hadn’t been known as the MacDougal Devil for nothing.

  Whistling loudly, hands in his pockets, Riley sauntered around to the kitchen door and knocked.

  “Anybody home? I stopped by to say howdy.”

  It took a few minutes, but she bustled into the room as if nothing had happened. Riley saw, and pretended to ignore, her red too-bright eyes and mottled skin.

  “Riley! What are you doing here?” She smiled and looked behind him eagerly. “Is Jed with you?”

  “Naw, he and Clint are working on something. I came to see how you were doing.”

  “Oh.”

  She sagged for a moment, and then rallied with a fixed smile. He looked over his shoulder into the yard. The clouds were darker than the last time he looked. “Want help folding those sheets? Looks like we’ll be getting some rain.”

  She looked out the door, flicking her eyes around. “The sheets can wait. But you can’t be seen here. Mr. Smythe is a very jealous man. If he sees you, he’ll…”

  “He’ll what? I’m just being neighborly.” He leaned back on his heels and tilted his head. “Or are you saying you don’t want to be seen with me ’cause we’ve got little more than scrawny cattle and a cabin, and Smythe’s got all this?” He gestured at the two-story house.

  She shook her head rapidly. “I don’t care about that.”

  “Since when?”

  She dropped her head, massaging the arm that Smythe had squeezed. “Since I realized money and power isn’t worth anything compared to caring and respect.” She met his eyes, silently pleading. “I want to marry Jed again, if he’ll agree. Nora Dawes told me Judge Thatcher’s going to share his parson and ceremony with Doc Henley in a few weeks. Since he was the one who wrongly married me, he shouldn’t mind Jed and I joining his ceremony.”

  Riley cursed under his breath. “We all want you back, but Jed won’t promise anything on a Bible.”

  “But…why not?”

  Riley twitched as he thought how to answer the question. “Aunt Chrissie raised us to believe in a just God, and to have faith. Jed believes in God but only has faith in himself. He’s seen the Bible used as an excuse to lie, cheat, and worse.”

  “The Good Book’s not at fault. I
t’s the person using it for their own evil purposes.”

  “I’ll tell Jed you said that.” He gave her a quick smile. “Not sure it’ll help.”

  Her chin trembled. She bit her lip and nodded. “Then, I guess this is good-bye.”

  After what he’d heard between Smythe and Victoria, Riley found it hard to play dumb. He pretended to be confused at her words. “Why? Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere for now. But I’m sure my new husband won’t allow me to talk with men he dislikes.”

  “New husband? What about us?”

  Victoria looked over his head, at the clouds. “If Jed won’t marry me, I’ll have to take another offer. It’s safer that way, for everyone.” She said it lightly, as if it was a joke. “I’d hoped Jed would marry me. Since you say he won’t, I cannot turn down Mr. Smythe’s offer.”

  “Cannot, or will not?”

  She pressed her lips together, hard, and blinked rapidly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. Tell Jed and Clint that for me.”

  “I’m sorry, too. More than you know.”

  Red and white patches mottled her face. She turned away with a gasp. As she closed the door, he thought he heard her whisper, “I love you,” but figured it was only wishful thinking and the wind.

  He stared at the closed door as her footsteps faded. He would not let Victoria be a martyr to protect her new friends, no matter how much they meant to her. She must be terrified from everything Smythe said. If she was in her right mind, she’d know marrying the bastard wouldn’t solve anything. For now, she couldn’t see another way out. He wanted to promise her that Jed would come around, but it wasn’t true. Clint would try, but Jed’s fear might be buried too deep for him to change. Unless Clint could draw it out of him, Jed would refuse to have anything to do with a preacher.

  Smythe didn’t want Victoria. All he wanted was revenge. No, Riley corrected himself, Smythe made it obvious he wanted Victoria sexually as well. He bet the man would get a perverse pleasure by hurting her, using shame and humiliation to destroy the memories of the loving she shared with them.

  That was not going to happen!

  If Jed couldn’t stare a preacher in the face and say “I do,” then he or Clint would marry her. It was best if she became Jed’s wife again. But if push came to shove, he’d haul his ass in front of anyone, and do anything, to keep her from ending up in Smythe’s claws. Even if it meant killing the bastard with his own hands. On the other hand, considering what the man had said about Bridie, Riley would have lots of help against Smythe.

  He headed to the river to think. Billy O’Keefe stashed a fishing pole that he didn’t mind others borrowing. He could catch his supper and figure out what to do next.

  Clint was off chasing Jed and hopefully helping him clean out his memory closet. He now knew about Victoria’s skeletons. He couldn’t let her know that, but the knowledge should help him to get her to speak of them. Being a typical woman, she probably wanted him to tell a few secrets as well. His skeletons were small, but for Victoria, he might just have to rattle them loose.

  Smythe would be back to spend the night. That meant Riley would have to stay in Victoria’s bedroom to protect her. He’d sleep on the floor, of course. Unless she wanted company. Riley’s cock rose at the thought of holding Victoria. She’d slept alone last night. Did she miss their loving?

  Maybe he’d show her what she’d be missing if she gave in to Smythe. That might relax her enough to get her talking. And then he’d have to comfort her some more…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Clint saw the glow of the campfire right where he expected it. He’d given Jed a whole day to think, but it looked to storm tonight, and he didn’t want the man to be alone. They all knew every inch of their land, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where Jed would hole up. The box canyon would keep his horse from bolting during a storm. Under the wide rock ledge was a hollow, almost like a cave. It would shelter a man from the rain. Or two, in this case.

  “Couple of rabbits enough to get me a place by the fire?”

  Clint didn’t yell too loud, knowing Jed would be nearby. A sliver of wind found its way under his collar. Thunder rolled in the distance, louder this time. Rain would arrive soon. He wanted the preliminaries to be over before the storm hit. Both the weather and the one between them.

  “You’re a fool to ride out before a storm.”

  The voice came from behind Clint. Likewise the barrel poking into his neck.

  “You gonna shoot me this time? That pistol might be a tad less ancient.”

  When they were about twelve and fifteen they had a knock-’em-down fight that went to knives and guns. They each had the other in their sights, and neither wanted to back down. His father came roaring in, snapping his bullwhip over their heads. He yelled that both guns were so old and worn down they had hair triggers. After they carefully put down them down, he asked how could they do something that would make him have to tell his wife one, or even both, of their sons were dead?

  Clint figured that’s when Jed finally realized he had parents that loved him. Loved him enough to take a switch to his backside because they were so scared they might lose him. Neither of them had been able to sit down for a while. Riley had a great time eating both their desserts, making up for what he’d missed when he arrived the previous year.

  “Did you skin those rabbits?”

  “All ready for roasting. Brought some salt, garlic bulbs, and some potatoes.” The gun barrel disappeared, and Clint heard it being slid into a holster. “Since it’s your fire, I guess I’ll be the cook.”

  A flash of light was followed by rumbles that crossed the wide sky from one side to the other.

  “Best get that cooked before we get wet doing it.” Jed walked past, leading the way into camp.

  An hour later their bellies were full, they had lots of wood ready for the fire, and their bedrolls were tucked under the overhang. The fire glowed, keeping back the night. Clint wasn’t one to stir a sinkhole of snakes, so he waited for Jed to ask what the hell he was doing there. He finally brought out some liquid persuasion from his saddlebags. They passed the bottle back and forth a couple of times before Clint capped it and set it on the rock to the side.

  “You being stingy tonight?”

  “Nah,” replied Clint, ignoring Jed’s grouchy tone. “Was thinking of that greenhorn who set his bottle uphill of the campfire. When it was knocked over and the whiskey ran down, it caught and kept on going. The men downhill had liquid fire flowing right into their bedrolls.”

  “Gives new meaning to the word ‘firewater.’”

  Clint chuckled. “Remember the time—”

  “I told you, it was Riley, not me!”

  “Maybe, but we all had to work a whole month to buy Father another jug of whiskey.”

  “Yeah, but those blue flames flowing across the pond in the dark sure looked fine.”

  The Bible-thumper was out by the pond on one of his rare visits. When the blue fire came toward him and a creepy voice shrieked about the fires of hell crossing water to haul him down, Jed’s father had screamed and run like a greased pig in a Fourth of July race.

  They were quiet for a while. Jed reached out his hand, and Clint put the bottle in it, no questions asked. Jed kept a tight hold on it while Clint waited. And waited.

  “Got a letter a while back.”

  Finally! Patsy Tanner at the mercantile, which is where the mail went, quietly mentioned a while back that she gave Jed a letter addressed to him. She wasn’t stickybeaking, just being concerned as she was for every decent person in the area. Jed had been tetchy for a while after, but said nothing.

  “Turns out that loudmouth Bible-thumper is dead. Expect his wife won’t be far behind.”

  “Hard death, or easy?”

  Jed took another swig. “Hard. Gutshot at his camp and left to die. When they found him they learned he had the pox. Some doc had cauterized the chancres a while earlier. That would’ve been almost as painful as the headac
hes. They figured he wouldn’t have lived long anyway.”

  “Syphilis?”

  Jed nodded.

  “They know who shot him?”

  “Yep. The woman he gave it to.” Jed saluted with the bottle. “They hauled my dear mother to jail. Though it wasn’t his gut she shot. It was lower.”

  Clint couldn’t help bringing his knees closer together. Jed laughed, but it was more like a wild animal than a man. Between what happened with Victoria and this thunderstorm, they’d be having a bumpy night.

  Jed took a long swig. He held out the bottle again. There was maybe an inch in the bottom. Clint took it.

  “I’m free, Clint. Finally, they can’t hurt me anymore.” Jed leaned back on his hands. “For all the good it’ll do me.”

  “That monkey’s been riding your back for a long time. ’Bout time you shook him loose.” Clint tilted the bottle back but pressed his tongue so nothing came into his mouth. He needed a clear head to get through this. “You remember them hurting you, Jed?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “Nope, until just before I lit out.”

  “What happened?”

  Jed picked up a dried branch they’d brought for the fire. He broke off a piece about a foot long. He peeled the bark with his fingernails, tossing the bits into the fire.

  “Someone yelled. A deep voice. A light flashed, like the full moon rippling a pond, only more. Then something smashed into my back. I’ve never felt pain like that before. I had to get away, like I’d die if I didn’t.”

  Clint pushed back his hat and rubbed his forehead, right above his eyes. “You’re wrong. You’ve felt that pain before. Lots of times.”

  Jed frowned and shook his head. “Can’t have. I’d remember something like that.”

  “Only if you want to. And then, only in nightmares.”

  Jed’s face, screwed up in wrinkles, looked grotesque with the fire lighting it from below. Clint held his breath as Jed stared at him. Finally, Jed blinked. He looked away, into the light rain that Clint suddenly noticed.