Wild Outlaws

by Destiny Blaine

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Constance said, crossing her arms over her body. “I don’t need your pity. Damn sure don’t want your opinions none either! I know what I had with Jack. It was real.”

  “It ain’t real love when a man raises his hand to strike you.” Mary Margaret tilted her head toward the dead man. “And that fella there wasn’t anything you wanted in the first place. He’s a murderer.”

  “They had the wrong man,” Constance said firmly. As if Jack’s death suddenly struck her, she collapsed to the floor and gathered the dead crook in her arms. Sobbing, she rocked him back and forth. Moments turned into minutes and finally she swiped her cheeks and said, “These bounty hunters and marshals are in cahoots. They always blame the wrong person. They put a large bounty on the men who are easiest to catch.”

  “That’s a nice theory,” Mary Margaret said, helping Constance to her feet and directing her toward the dressing screen in the corner of her room. “Go on now. Get some clothes on. The marshal will be here any minute and you can’t be soliciting a lawman.”

  Without another word, Constance disappeared out of sight. Mary Margaret sat on the bed with her hands folded in her lap. She stared at the blood pooling around the head of a murderer and rather than wonder what drove him to the heinous crimes the poster suggested he committed, she thought about her own life. And it only took a minute for her to draw conclusions about her potential fate.

  Like so many, she was a victim trapped by circumstance, but she was smart enough to realize she wasn’t burdened by commitment. In fact, if she wanted to march right out of that whorehouse and saloon, she could start walking. There was no one to stop her and nothing to hold her down.

  Mary Margaret rose without wasting a second and acknowledged the marshal as he entered the room. She wasn’t sure if she said anything or if she simply tilted her head in his direction when they passed one another. Either way, he must’ve understood she had no intentions of sticking around for questions.

  “Going somewhere, Mary Margaret?”

  “Yes, sir, I am. I’m getting out while I still can.”

  Chapter Two

  Tuff pulled up a chair and took a seat at a large round table in the center of the bustling saloon. The room was alive with piano music and laughter. The increase in activity included wall-to-wall people. Those there were either looking for trouble or searching for a good time. They were willing to pay for either—some in gold, others in blood.

  “The marshal is upstairs cleaning up the mess. I sent a telegraph to Stockton and let the sheriff know we’ll work Arizona this winter. Maybe we can pick up the bounty in Tombstone.”

  “Have you talked to the woman yet?” Buck asked, leaning over a stack of cards he’d yet to deal. Buck always carried a deck on the chance he might convince some unsuspecting soul to sit down to a game of poker.

  “She was with that younger gal when I caught up with Jack.”

  “I wish we could’ve taken him alive. After all the shit he’s done to those women, I would’ve had a fine time giving him a daily beating all the way back to California,” Creed said, looking up at the curvy woman draping her arm around his shoulder.

  “If we don’t hurry up and talk with Mary Margaret, Creed and the others will be bedding these whores,” Buck informed him.

  “I agree,” Tuff said softly. “Considering we ain’t had any pussy in about as many days as a turtle’s life, we may not see the prairie until year-after-next if we don’t keep our focus.” Not even a few seconds later, he added, “Though I gotta tell ya. After meeting our girl, I’m not too interested in going to bed with anyone else here.”

  “That special, huh?” Buck pressed.

  “Yeah,” Tuff replied, sighing. “She’s something else all right.”

  “Then I reckon since you’d rather have a woman in your bed than a drink on the table, we’d better hurry on upstairs and find her.”

  “That’s about the straight of it. And you ain’t lying. I’d rather have my feel of Mary Margaret than to have my fill of liquor.”

  Thinking he had quietly made the statement only to his buddy, he was surprised when the woman at Creed’s left said, “You’re looking for Mary Margaret?”

  “Yes,” Tuff replied.

  “Why?” the girl inquired, a flash of envy in her eyes.

  “Got some business to discuss,” Tuff said, noncommittal.

  “Imagine that. Here you sit in a whore’s house and you want to negotiate.”

  “It ain’t about whoring altogether. We need to talk to her.”

  “You made it just in time then,” the woman said flippantly, rubbing Creed’s shoulder. “She’s leaving on the afternoon stagecoach.”

  Tuff leapt to his feet. “I just saw her upstairs. She was supposed to meet us a little later.”

  The woman shrugged. “Whatever you want to say to Mary Margaret will probably have to wait indefinitely. She’s cleaning out her room now.”

  “Say she’s headed out on some sort of trip?” Tuff asked.

  “Not exactly. Mary Margaret is getting out of here for good. She plans to teach.” Annabelle struck a pose and arched her brows. “Maybe she got tired of the never-ending recess around here. This playground ain’t always as fun as it looks.”

  Tuff’s gaze skipped between the bar and the table. Buck and Creed, David and Jared wore expressions mirroring his concern.

  “When’s she leavin’?” Tuff asked.

  “Soon,” Annabelle replied.

  “You gotta stop her, Tuff,” Buck said, standing.

  “Me? Why me? Hell I don’t know the woman any more than you do!”

  “Yeah, but you’re more convincing than the rest of us,” Buck reminded him.

  Tuff thinned his lips. This wasn’t good. He’d thought of all outcomes and possibilities before they made the ride to Cripple Creek. He hadn’t considered arriving there just in time to see Mary Margaret flee. “Is she going anywhere in particular?”

  The fancy lady shrugged. “How would I know? Earlier today, she mentioned teaching but I got the impression she thought she was too old to switch horses now. Then out of nowhere she’s gonna fly the coop and she don’t mean maybe. She’s gotta do it now. I reckon she’ll head out to California. She has relatives in Stockton.”

  From the bar, David jerked and turned. He gave Tuff a hard glare as if he thought he’d been had.

  “Is she ill?” Tuff asked, thinking the whores he’d known in the past generally left the business due to medical reasons, particularly a pregnancy, or a marriage.

  “No,” Annabelle replied. “But recently she’s been talking about dying and how she can’t fathom leaving this world as a whore. Seems Mary Margaret is obsessed with aging as of late.”

  David scoffed. “Great.”

  “She ain’t ready for a rocking chair, David,” Tuff called out, thinking about the lovely woman he’d finally been able to meet. While the circumstances that led them to a formal introduction had been less than desirable, at the very least he could now claim to have greeted the infamous Mary Margaret, the most accommodating whore in the West.

  David muttered to himself as he motioned the bartender. Gaining a refill, he shot Tuff a sideways glance and from the corner of his mouth, he said, “If she’s an old hag, she may not be up for the trip.”

  The bartender jerked and suddenly acted a little too interested in their pending conversation. Snatching a rag from under the bar, he started polishing the same spot of wood right next to one of his customer’s elbows.

  “She looked like she could handle anything that happened to rise to the occasion,” Tuff said.

  David laughed. “Spoken like a man waiting on a whore.”

  Creed’s arm ornament swooned. She fell in his lap, playfully kicked up her heels, and peered up at him from under batting eyelashes. “Sounds like your friend plans to sweep my girl right up off her feet.”

  “Annabelle,” Creed said bitterly. “I don’t remember asking you to sit on my la
p.”

  Tuff’s nose twitched. Creed was a strange one for sure. He enjoyed women as much as the next man but he had his own set of boundaries. Annabelle just crossed them.

  Giving the woman a gentle push, Creed helped Annabelle to her feet and then stood himself. “If she’s headed out of town, we’d best go have a word with her before she gets away.”

  “I reckon so,” Tuff agreed, pursuing the stairs. The others followed right behind him—Creed and Buck were right on his heels while Jared and David eased away from their barstools only after their respective final drinks were consumed.

  Halfway up the first flight of stairs, Annabelle called after them, “What is this? You mean all of you are here to see Mary Margaret?”

  Creed smirked, his apparent unforgiving nature coming to the fore. The whore crossed a line he apparently didn’t give her permission to tread over. “It looks that way, doesn’t it, sugar?”

  Annabelle placed both hands on her waist and shook her head in an outwardly aggravated fashion. “You fellas don’t know what you’re missing.”

  David, who was bringing up the rear, turned around and said, “Let me guess. You’re the only whore here willing to swallow?”

  His voice silenced the crowd. His harsh statement hushed them for a second or two longer. Even the bartender, who’d just taken his seat at the piano again, stopped playing his song long enough to glare at the man who’d disrespected one of his girls.

  Tuff and the others didn’t laugh at the woman’s expense. Besides, Tuff didn’t like stirring trouble and David typically found plenty. Most towns had their share of loyal locals and the town’s men, given the looks on their faces, didn’t appreciate David’s crude remarks. Truth told, Tuff thought it was uncalled for, too, but he generally didn’t cross David.

  “You had to go and run that mouth, didn’t you, David?” Creed asked, stomping more than walking.

  “Thought I’d help you get rid of your horse and buggy once and for all,” David replied, unapologetic. “When she approached me at the bar, I knew that one was trouble. She had stars in her eyes long before she said hello. She’s only whoring for one reason—to find herself a husband.”

  Creed snarled. “Then it’s a good thing you boys got me away from her before she slipped a band on my hand, huh? Seeing as I’m so ready to settle down and all.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya,” David fired back.

  They marched to the top of the steps in a single-file line bantering back and forth between them. Accusations were a-plenty. Tuff should’ve initiated an immediate discussion with Mary Margaret soon after they met. He should’ve told her what they had in mind.

  Tuff pondered future possibilities. Where did Mary Margaret think she was going anyway? Why was she packing up and moving on? Who was waiting for her? Was she hell bent on leaving the whoring business in order to teach and if so, what kind of school employed a whore in the first place?

  He’d pay to sit in her classroom.

  Passing Constance, Tuff grabbed her arm and held her limb against his middle. “Which room belongs to Mary Margaret?”

  Constance looked up at him with empty eyes. He wondered if the girl was still in shock because she’d witnessed a killing or if she was just plain dumb, which presented a slight possibility. Tuff had rarely encountered a smart whore. Mary Margaret excluded of course, and in her case he based his belief on hearsay, not a lot to go on considering the men who often carried tales.

  Tuff peered over his shoulder at the intimidating image his buddies projected. Nope, the soiled dove was just plain scared and she should’ve been, all things considered.

  He relaxed his grip but she still trembled under his touch. He released her altogether. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. It’s just we’re in a big hurry to talk to Mary Margaret. We won’t bring her any harm. Someone downstairs told us she plans on leaving. We’d like to solicit her services before she gets away.”

  “All of you?” Constance asked, gaping.

  Tuff released a heavy sigh. Evidently the whores in Cripple Creek weren’t accustomed to tag teams. They acted like the mere thought of going to bed with more than one man was something of a damning experience.

  Creed leaned against the wall and chuckled. “Yes, all of us. Each and every damned one of us.”

  Constance pushed her long hair over her right shoulder. “Well I’m afraid the lot of you will be disappointed. Mary Margaret is no longer in the whoring business.” Her voice was steady and lacked inflection.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” David taunted her. “What kind of work is it that she does now?”

  “She’s in the teaching business,” Constance stated proudly.

  Buck rubbed his rough beard, stroking the prickly hairs as if he thought he had some length added to the short growth. “Whereabouts does she teach?”

  Jared stood back and took it all in, behaving as if he were trying to decide whether or not Constance was telling them the truth. Tuff wondered what was on his mind. He hadn’t said a lot since they’d arrived in Cripple Creek and Jared was typically fully of knowledge and quite opinionated when he had the floor.

  Constance, evidently as na¿ve as Tuff originally suspected, took a minute with her reply. Finally, she said, “In case you haven’t heard, Mary Margaret is in high demand. Why, she can teach anywhere. She can do anything she wants to do. She’s a marvelous teacher. In fact, I learned everything I know from her.”

  Jared grinned. “Is that right, hon? Well, I tell you what,” he said, working his swagger as he stepped to the front of the line. “If we can’t find Mary Margaret, we’ll come back and see if you can’t give us a sample of what you’ve been taught. What’d you say?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “I ain’t interested.”

  “Good thing. You ain’t his type, baby,” David said, stepping right back into smart-ass mode. “He likes ‘em old and decrepit.”

  Constance looked utterly confused. “Mary Margaret has some age on her but she’s far from feeble. Why she’s only thirty-five and she still looks like she’s nineteen.”

  “That’s a relief,” David said, evidently satisfied now after he’d tested the waters.

  “And quite an exaggeration,” Tuff said under his breath. Mary Margaret was a beautiful and voluptuous woman. If Tuff didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Mary Margaret was a proper lady, a woman of substance. Her experience must’ve inspired her confidence, and her self-assurance was part of the appeal, certainly half her charm.

  “I hope it’s not much of one,” David said. “I didn’t ride across rough terrain to meet an average woman.”

  “She’s beautiful, really, but she looks her age,” Tuff informed him.

  “Mary Margaret is a lot prettier than any of the likes of you,” Constance remarked, defending her friend.

  Creed winked. “It takes more effort to dish insults than issue compliments, woman. You might do yourself a favor and remember the free advice in the future. Now, where the hell is Mary Margaret?”

  “I do not know.”

  “If she hasn’t told you goodbye, then she hasn’t left yet, right?” Tuff asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Mary Margaret!” Tuff yelled, walking down the hall. The others did the same, pacing back and forth. When no one opened up any of their rooms, Tuff waved one hand off to the left, the other off to the right. “Find her.”

  Constance gasped. “Wait a minute. You can’t enter our rooms. Those quarters are private!” When the men split off from the group, Constance grabbed Tuff by the sleeve. “You lied to me!”

  While the others searched for Mary Margaret, Tuff did his best to reassure Constance before her imagination ran wild and she screamed her bloody head off. “We just want to talk to her.”

  God help them all if he had to stand witness to another one of the gal’s blood-curling screams. She had some lungs on her and he wasn’t sure he could endure another round of her theatrics.

  “What do you want to discuss?” Co
nstance pressed. “Teaching?”

  “Why sure,” Tuff drawled, glancing up at the others. “Come to think of it, that’s an excellent idea. We have a job to offer her.”

  “We do?” Jared asked, arching a brow.

  “Yes indeed we do,” Tuff said, searching Constance’s eyes. “Now save us some time. Which room is Mary Margaret’s?”

  “That one over there,” she said reluctantly, pointing across the hall.

  “Thank you,” Tuff said politely, heading that way without wasting a moment.

  “What are you thinking, Tuff?” Buck asked.

  Tuff stopped instantly, suddenly enchanted by the burgundy flock wallpaper lining the hallway. Unable to resist, he reached out and touched the velvet texture, dragging his fingers along the hooks and crowns, the pattern blending together to form some sort of foreign design. Immediately, he was tossed back in time. He thought of his grandmother’s brothel.

  Considered one of the first madams of her generation, his grandmother raised him in a house that didn’t necessarily provide a wonderful environment for a child. Still, he gained many life lessons through the women employed by his grandmother. Through the whores living there, he learned to respect women regardless of how they made their living.

  Thoughtfully, Tuff said, “Mary Margaret wants to teach. We need to keep an eye on her. I’ve come up with an offer nary a whore would refuse, particularly one who wants to help others by giving instructions. We’ll convince her we’re interested in learning something from her, show her how her trade or craft is a job prerequisite for what we require.”

  Creed copped a smile. “I hope you’re thinking in terms of a small class and intimate setting.”

  “How about it?” Tuff asked. “What do ya think?”

  Jared tilted his head toward the door. “Reckon you’ll have to ask her.”

  Tuff wheeled around expecting to knock. Instead he came face-to-face with a woman who was obviously bound and determined to go somewhere.

  Her arms were loaded down with hat boxes and luggage. A drawstring purse dangled from her dainty wrist and her dignified hat nearly covered her eyes. Apparently, she was in a hurry to go. She looked frazzled and quite stressed, much differently than the woman who’d been ready to face off with the murderer he’d killed only hours beforehand.