Acres, Natalie - Propositioned by Outlaws [Outlaws 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  “What are you talkin’ about?” the outlaw leader asked, resisting the marshal when he grabbed him by the arm.

  “You said it wasn’t over. I believe you. It ain’t over. You picked the wrong place to stop and water your horses. You damn sure picked the wrong girl to grope.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They rode home with nary a word exchanged between them. Victoria was tired, but her need for silence had more to do with the thoughts of her father than her exhaustion.

  The marshal came to her rescue, but more than saving her, he’d publicly declared she was his daughter. He’d made the confession in front of men he knew well. Bounty hunters he respected. Cowboys she recognized.

  Victoria wondered if his proclamation meant he’d come to accept he’d fathered a child with a whore. Victoria was a grown woman now, but she still longed for a connection with her father, someone she could call out as family. Would the marshal be there for her when she needed him? Would he invite her into his home and make her feel welcome?

  Victoria felt a smile tug at her lips. Hadn’t he been there for her in the past? Perhaps he hadn’t told her who he was or why he felt compelled to drop in on her from time to time, but nonetheless, he’d made the effort. He evidently cared enough to check in, and when push came to shove, he stepped in and saved the day, or at least…her friends.

  She considered Lane and Art as she slid away from her mare once they came to a halt in front of her cabin. Regardless of the relations between them, she enjoyed their company, and hoped they wouldn’t leave her after they’d shared so much together.

  Lane caught her as she dismounted. Taking her horse’s reins out of her hands, he said, “We’ll be right outside.”

  She offered them a weak smile. Art clasped her hand in his and squeezed her fingers in passing.

  “You don’t have to sleep in the barn you know,” Victoria called after them.

  They kept walking.

  “I could fix you some dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”

  They still kept walking.

  Uncertain of what she might have done to make them feel they needed to put some distance between them, she marched up the front steps and entered her dark, lonely cabin. Picking up the lantern, she removed the glass globe, lit the wick, and replaced the cover. As soon as the place was aglow, she gasped. “What are you doing in here?”

  Dressed in nice trousers, a white shirt, and fancy suspenders, a man Victoria didn’t recognize rose from her table. “Ms. Page, do you know who I am?”

  With movement behind her, she turned. A large brute with broad shoulders and ragged clothes stepped forward. She shifted her focus to the gentleman standing next to her small table. She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen either of you before.”

  “That’s right. You haven’t,” he drawled, his Southern accent thicker than any she’d ever heard.

  “My name is Max Carpenter.”

  She gulped.

  “My name must ring a bell.”

  She shook her head in denial.

  “Well, let me refresh your memory.” He took a few steps and stood mere inches from her face. “You are harboring—screwing—two men accused of stealing my gold.” A beat later, he said, “Now does the name mean anything to you?”

  She shook her head again.

  Max waved his finger toward the man behind Victoria. He immediately yanked Victoria’s arms behind her back, securing her wrists with his large, calloused hands.

  “Ouch!” She squirmed and wiggled but was unable to break free. “You’re hurting me!”

  “Ms. Page, as you can imagine, I’m not a very happy man.”

  “There’s a doctor in town. If you want something to take away your misery, I suggest you consult him for a dose of happy pills. I don’t have an antidote for discontentment.”

  “You’re a funny girl, aren’t you, love?”

  She continued to fight for freedom, but her efforts were in vain. Giving up the struggle, she glared straight ahead, not necessarily looking at Max, but hardly avoiding him altogether.

  “She’s ready to play nice, boss,” the whale of a man said.

  Max smirked. “Ms. Page, I would’ve been a tremendously wealthy man if your boys hadn’t taken what belongs to me. They were supposed to hang for their crimes, but I guess things worked out for the best this way.

  “You saved their asses and now, I can take out what they owe me by using yours.” He unhooked his belt and snapped the leather as he removed the strap. “Bend her over.”

  Victoria shook violently. “Please, you can’t do this.”

  “Actually, I can. See, if I’m as well informed as I believe I am, this cabin here has quite the reputation. Your mother used to run men through here faster than my father once drove cattle across the open range. After what some of my boys—you know the ones you sent to jail earlier today—saw, it appears the fruit is just as loose and well-matured as the tree.”

  “Art and Lane didn’t take your gold, mister. They didn’t!”

  “I said bend her over, and I won’t ask again!” he shouted, addressing the hard outlaw securing her.

  “No! You have to listen to me!” she wailed. “Art and Lane wouldn’t steal from you. Don’t you understand? The marshal arrested several men down by the river today. They’re awaiting trial. Believe me! Listen to what I’m telling you!”

  He snapped the leather belt again. Approaching her, he tilted her chin upward and stared into her eyes. “I don’t give a damn who took the gold, if you want to know the truth, Ms. Page. The fact is, those boys your father arrested today were my boys. They worked for me. They didn’t take anything from me. They had no need to steal what already belonged to them in one way or another.”

  “That’s not true!”

  A wicked chuckle fell from Max’s lips. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face, would you, Ms. Page?

  “You didn’t find out who your daddy was until Lane and Art were taken into custody. Why hell, you probably didn’t even realize your momma was a whore until my boys told you and you probably think—somewhere in your simple mind—that those two men you saved from the noose today plan to stay here and make all your troubles go away.

  “Women like you lie to themselves. That’s how they keep living. That’s how you, my dear, keep pressing forward.” He tossed the belt aside and screamed, “You will not lie to me!”

  “Hold it right there, Max,” Lane said, stepping inside the cabin with his gun cocked.

  Victoria released a heavy sigh. “Thank God.”

  An evil smile tilted Max’s lips. “Well, look what we have here.”

  “Let her go, and I’ll let you walk out of here. Keep your hands on her, and you’ll lose them about the time you lose your life. Is that what you want?”

  Art stepped inside her small quarters, too. “Max, you’d better listen to him.”

  “Well if it isn’t the other half of the package deal,” Max grumbled. “It’s been a long time, Art.”

  “Yes and I was hoping it would be another hundred years or so before I set eyes on you again.”

  “Planning on living forever, are ya?” Max asked.

  Art cocked his gun. “I reckon I have a few days more than you do.”

  The man behind Victoria shifted his weight, and Art turned his gun on him as quickly as he returned the revolver and pointed once again at his original target. “Victoria, get behind Lane.”

  Victoria scurried toward Lane and ducked behind him, peering over Lane’s shoulder just long enough to gauge Max’s expression. “Do you know him?”

  “Yes,” Lane said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “I thought you said you didn’t rob him.”

  “I didn’t,” Lane told her. “We just took back the gold he originally stole from us.”

  Max laughed. “You always could justify your actions.”

  “We had a deal, Max,” Lane told him. “We spent months down here digging. We slept in the cold and rain. We
barely had food on the table, and never had one day when we were warm or comfortable in the wintertime. You said you’d give us the equipment we needed for mining.”

  Art chuckled. “That was a lie.”

  “You said you’d send in money for food, room, and board.”

  “I never slept anywhere but under the stars,” Art informed him.

  Lane shook his pistol at Max. “But I guess the coin that rolled away from this poor miner’s vault was the one that mattered most. You promised us a fifty-fifty split. You never worked those mines. You never gave us the equipment you swore would one day arrive. And you damn sure didn’t sleep outdoors without a blanket to warm you or a roof over your head.”

  “We only took our claim,” Art assured him. “And your sorry ass reported all of that gold stolen.”

  Max’s eyes darkened. He studied the man to his right. Apparently detecting the other fellow’s uneasiness, Lane said, “Let me guess. You’re on his payroll, too?”

  “Are you freelancing?” Art asked.

  The fellow nodded.

  “Nice,” Art commented. “I gotta give you credit, Max. You’ve stayed alive a lot longer than I thought you might. You’ve cheated every man from here to Virginia and you still manage to keep hiring good men, miners who just want to make a better way for their families, for themselves. You’re a piece of work.”

  “He’s a piece of shit,” Lane mumbled. “That’s what he is.”

  “Don’t listen to them,” Max said, obviously jittery as his sidekick inched closer. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.” The burly fellow took another step and then another, grunting every time his boot struck the dirt floor. “I’m telling you, they’re making this up!”

  “Then where’s his money, Max?” Lane asked. “Sir, if you’ve worked for him and you’ve yet to see a coin for your efforts, then you might ask yourself why. And you might keep in mind another important fact, too. Max Carpenter planned on seeing me and my partner hang. He wasn’t satisfied that he kept most of the loot. He wanted our lives, too.”

  The big guy snarled then lunged forward, attacking Max. They fought their way to the porch, where they rolled to the ground. Fists and profanity flew as the two men fought one another. They rolled around on the ground for a good bit. Finally, Art fired a few shots in the air. “Break it up and ride on out of here!”

  After another shot was fired a few minutes later, the men parted, panting. Max dabbed at his bloody lip. Lane pointed toward their horses and said, “You two have less than a minute to get out of here. You best never come back. If you do, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

  Max sat atop his horse seconds later. Swiping at his mouth, he looked down on them. “This ain’t over yet, boys.”

  “There’s a marshal in town that may think otherwise after he hears the rest of our story,” Lane told him.

  “We’ll see about that,” Max said, riding away in one direction while the burly fellow headed off in another.

  Lane stared after them. “Yep. I guess we’ll see.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Victoria spruced up her sheets and fluffed the pillows. Aware of Lane and Art watching her, she wheeled around. “How did you know they were here?”

  “Their horses were around back. We saw them when we rode up. I knew we’d have to ambush them.”

  “I wondered about that,” she said. “They rolled out of my house and landed next to horses I’d never seen before. I wondered if I might have missed them when I entered the cabin.”

  “You think you’re so lovesick you aren’t aware of your surroundings?” Art teased.

  She froze. Unable to let herself contemplate something as romantic as love, she studied their handsome faces in search of humor. Were they making fun of her, or were they considering a future with her, too?

  Surely not, she reasoned. She’d known them less than a couple of days. Then again, a person’s life could change in a minute. In comparison, two days seemed like a lifetime.

  “Don’t read too much into anything I say,” Art told her. “I was trying to be cute.”

  “You aren’t,” Lane informed him.

  “Says you,” Art grumbled.

  She grinned. “I guess you don’t want to sleep in the barn after all.”

  Lane pointed to the bed. “Looks like you’ve piled up a few extra pillows and blankets right here. I don’t believe you want us in the barn.”

  “That’s where you belong,” she said, starting to pass him.

  Grabbing her around the waist, Lane stared at her lips. “You may be right about that.”

  Shaking her head until her hair fell loose around her shoulders, she tilted her chin toward his. “Why didn’t you tell me about the gold?”

  “It wasn’t important.”

  “So are you rich?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t sounded like such a gold digger when she made the inquiry.

  “We get by,” Lane replied.

  “I get by,” she said. “Gold miners live pampered lives.”

  “Not all of them,” Art assured her.

  “So you robbed that stagecoach?” she asked reluctantly.

  “Nope,” Art replied. “We took our gold out of the crates before they were loaded. That whole stagecoach robbery was nothing more than theatrics courtesy of Max Carpenter and his boys.”

  She released a burdened sigh. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”

  “Victoria, we aren’t perfect, but we aren’t like a lot of the guys your ma used to see out here,” Lane said.

  “I know,” she whispered, cupping his cheek.

  “So we’re not staying in the barn tonight?” Art asked. A hopeful expression was stamped upon his face.

  “Not a chance,” she said. “I have big plans for both of you.”

  “How big?” Art asked.

  “Huge,” she crooned, placing her hand on the sizeable bulge in Art’s pants as she slid her hand down Lane’s belly, securing a tight grip on his covered cock, too.

  “The woman knows how to get a man’s attention,” Art said.

  Victoria sashayed across the room, working her hips like she planned to later use them. “Question is, can I keep you interested?”

  * * * *

  Art was on the outskirts of new territory, and the unfamiliar terrain frightened him. Victoria sent them to bathe while she fixed a light meal, and after beans and bread, he and Lane sat on the porch, whittling.

  “She’s gonna expect us to stay,” Art said.

  “Suits me.”

  “Lane, we can’t stay here. We’re a danger to her, and you know it.”

  “Not if we talk to that marshal.”

  “That marshal is her father, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Lane grinned. “I don’t expect him to approve of what I have in mind for his daughter, but I think after I have a little sit-down talk with him, he might see things my way.”

  “What do you plan to say?”

  Lane shrugged. “I thought I might point out the obvious. It’s better for Victoria to have two men who care about her than a few strangers prowling around here every few days. What father wants his daughter passed around?”

  “What makes you think he cares about her either way?”

  “Oh come on now, Art. You heard him out there today. As soon as he realized Victoria would remain in danger, he was ready to pin bogus charges on those cowboys. Max’s men are gonna hang because they represented a continual threat to the marshal’s daughter.”

  “He may hang us still yet, then.”

  “Not if we promise to give her a good life.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know about the marshal, or are you having second thoughts about Victoria?”

  Art grunted. “I ain’t the keepin’ kind.”

  “I am,” Lane confessed. “I searched the West for a woman like Sarah Ann, and when I least expected to find one, there she was.”

  “Victoria isn’t Sarah Ann, Lan
e.”

  “I know. And I wouldn’t want her if they were exactly alike. I’m ready to start over. Start fresh.”

  “You’re rushin’ things. That’s all.”

  “Maybe, but ask yourself this. Would it bother you if Victoria was with another man? I mean, besides me, of course. Would it eat at you?”

  “Hell yeah,” Art said.

  “Then you may want to consider rushing things, too. She’s a young, beautiful woman. A man would be stark crazy to let her go.”

  “You’re right,” Art said, standing. “And he’d been plumb stupid to keep her waiting, too.”

  Lane laughed. He tossed aside his stick and followed Art inside. They entered her tiny room together. Standing in the doorway, Art’s heart started fluttering. Lying on the bed with her legs splayed, Victoria looked more beautiful than the hour before when she’d been serving dinner.

  Of course she would. She was naked, aroused, and just plain sexy. Of course she looked better than a plate of beans.

  Barely visible under the lantern’s light, her pussy lips glistened. Her pointed nipples were shaped like diamonds, and as she cupped her full breasts, Art’s cock danced in his breeches. A hot shot of arousal scorched his balls and made his cock painfully hard.

  “You’re beautiful,” Lane told her, shrugging off his shirt.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said right back.

  “Hey now,” Art said, winking. “You can’t play favorites.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” she assured him. “I’m crazy about both of you.”

  “I’m crazy about you, too,” Lane told her.

  Shit, Lane was just plain pussy whipped. Art knew he should’ve pressured Lane into seeing a few whores back in Tombstone. Now that he’d gotten his dick wet again, he was henpecked.

  Then again, what was Art’s excuse? He was plumb nutty over Victoria. He looked down at his cock. Yep, he was nutty all right, in more ways than one.

  Sitting on the bed, he pulled off his boots. By the time he slipped off his breeches, Lane was undressed and crawling between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, tweaking the little button hidden between her folds.