by Kari Trumbo
Kisses in
Keystone
Book 2, Seven Brides of South Dakota
KARI TRUMBO
Kisses in Keystone
© 2017 Kari Trumbo
Published by Kari Trumbo, All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, without the prior written consent of the author. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible
Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. All locations, characters, names, and actions are a product of the author’s overactive imagination. Any resemblance, however subtle, to living persons or actual places and events are coincidental.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Historical Elements
I dedicate this book to Carley and to Michelle, who battled addiction and continue to win every day. I know I couldn’t have begun to write this book without watching you succeed. Special thanks to Michelle for taking the time to talk me through what Hattie would’ve experienced.
Thank you for helping bring Hattie to life.
Chapter One
Keystone, South Dakota
July, 1893
I NEED A DRINK! Hattie groped under her bed for the dark amber bottle of whiskey that should’ve been there, just under the edge of her bed. She refilled it every night before coming up to her room for work. Finally grasping the cold, smooth surface, she breathed a sigh of relief…until she lifted it. The bottle felt far too light to her hand and her thoughts crashed back through the floor. She’d finished it the night before. Her world spun out of control at facing the day—even just the morning—without a nip. Life was deplorable without the drink to take away the harsh reality of life at The Red Garter Saloon in Keystone, though, it was little more than a two-story shack thrown together to ply money from the miner’s fingers before it even got warm in their palms.
She’d never meant to end up here. Just a year ago, she’d been with her sisters on the way to Deadwood. She’d needed a drink then, too. So bad she could taste it. The bitter followed by the burn. When they’d reached Deadwood, she’d met their next-door neighbor and he’d told her about his son, Roy, who was looking for a sweet pretty girl. She’d been so naive. She’d thought he meant his son was looking for a girl to settle down with. But that hadn’t been it. He’d wanted her all right, but then he’d sold her to The Red Garter and continued to collect her earnings.
She pushed herself off the bed with one bruised arm. As she turned it over, her gaze followed the bruise around to her forearm. Every day was a new set of marks, a new ache. Her chemise was torn down the front and the coverlet was in a pile on the floor. Hattie groaned as the realization of pain throbbed its way through the clearing fog in her mind. No! She wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but stay here. And worst of all, she didn’t want to remember. A flimsy robe hung on a nail near her bed and she yanked it on, though, it did little to hide her tattered clothes. Her skin prickled in gooseflesh, but she couldn’t feel the cold, only the sharp need that the empty bottle couldn’t quench.
Roy had promised her fine clothes, had promised her wealth, and even hinted at love when he’d first met her at the stage coach station in Deadwood. And she’d been more than ready to give him anything he wanted for that first drink. The other passengers on the stage had clicked their tongues when he’d pulled out a silver flask and offered it to her, but she hadn’t cared. She’d laughed at the gasps as she tipped it back for a healthy swig. She’d needed it, had waited so long …and it had been the best whiskey she’d ever tasted.
She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t taken what she’d wanted from her father’s stash. When he burnt the house down, that had been the end of both her father and her affair with his moonshine, and then she’d had to deal with the nightmare of need.
She sat at her mirror and gasped at the dark purple splotch across her cheek. Lady Ros always provided them with enough creams to keep the bruises hidden from the men who’d inflict more damage later that night. Her body was constantly healing from some violence. Hattie pulled open the drawer of her mirrored table and took out the small canister of cream makeup, setting it gently on her dressing table, then pulled the drawer out all the way and reached back inside. She found her small clutch of bills still hidden there. The greenbacks made a pleasant sound as they flicked through her fingers. It wouldn’t do to have them out too long lest anyone see them, but she had to know they were there, the only hope she had. It took her three tries to count the pile before she was sure she’d gotten it right. Seventy-five dollars.
There was a harsh, insistent knock on her door and the lock clicked out of place, the lock that had kept her in all night. She cursed, a bad habit she’d picked up recently, at letting someone sneak up on her. She shoved the money back in its spot and slid the drawer back in place as quietly as she could. The door swung open, and Roy strode in, kicking the door shut behind him.
His fine cotton trousers looked strange against his bright white clean shirt open halfway down his chest, revealing a filthy undershirt.
“You look horrible this morning, Hattie. Best get your face made quickly before anyone sees you.” Though, her face couldn’t look too bad. It hadn’t kept him from staring at her and licking his thin lips. He sat down on her bed and finally let his eyes wander elsewhere as he lifted the bottle. “My, you’ve been going through this quicker than ever.” He tipped the bottle over and shook his head as he rolled eyes too weak to control her, yet she’d let him. “I promised I would take care of you, Hattie, and I have. But, you need to take care of yourself a little, too. You have to stop drinking so much. Lady Ros has complained to me that when the men come up here after a long hard day, you just lay there. Sometimes you sleep. They are paying customers.”
Bile rose in her throat. She bit the back of her lip to keep from screaming. Roy couldn’t get angry with her. If he did, he’d take away the only thing that made this bearable, and even that was questionable. This wasn’t what he’d promised her. This wasn’t taking care of her.
Her tongue felt like a pillow wedged in her mouth. “Take care of me? Just how do you s’pect you take care of me? You sold me, just like my pa always threatened to do. That was the whole reason we left him; so I’d have a choice.” She turned from him but kept her eyes on his in the mirror as she opened the small jar of cream makeup. He couldn’t be trusted enough to take her eyes off him.
“You did have a choice. You chose to believe
what you thought you heard. You have a job, clothes, food, a roof over your head, and enough whiskey to drown a mule. Who do you think pays for all that?” He stood and narrowed eyes at her that she’d thought, for a very brief time, were handsome.
“I do,” she said through gritted teeth then closed her eyes at the glint of anger in his. Even seeing them diffused in the mirror wasn’t enough to keep the burn off her neck. “I do, because you take every penny I make,” she mumbled.
He leaned over and grabbed the bottle again then cleared the small room in three steps, slamming it down on her table. “And if you want to keep having all those things, you better make yourself presentable, and a little more gracious.” He gripped her shoulder in a bruising fist and whipped her around to face him. He bent to look her straight in the eyes and she suppressed a shudder.
“You’d best be careful or I’ll have Ros put you in the back room where you can’t say no.” He cupped her chin and regarded both sides of her face. “I wouldn’t pay good money for you anymore.” He slid his hand down around her neck and she held her breath, fearful he’d choke her. He ran his finger along the back of her neck, the silky fabric of her robe heightening the chilling sensation. He smiled at himself in the mirror and peeled the front of her robe down, letting it hang by her arms.
“You can’t leave this room without your makeup and your hair under a wrap until the dinner hour. There’s some lawman downstairs asking around about you. Ros will never let you go, so don’t even fantasize about leaving. Course, I could keep you busy up here until he’s gone.” He turned her back to the mirror and she watched in horror as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder. He kissed the back of her neck up to her ear and tugged on the robe, but she held her arms tight against her.
She clenched her jaw tight and gritted through her teeth, “I won’t do a thing until you fill that bottle and bring it back.”
He bit down hard on her ear and she cried out and flinched away. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll be right back.”
Hattie searched her room, once again, for something she could use to keep Roy away. He was relentless but, as always, her room was bare of everything. She had little but the dressing table, the bed, and a small armoire with a few dresses in it that were far too revealing for her to ever where outside the Red Garter. Roy had taken the dress she’d shown up in the first night. She pulled up her robe and tied it closed. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes anyway, but at least she’d tried.
Roy walked in and swung the door shut then turned and locked the four separate locks on the inside. “I filled it half-full. You don’t need more than that and that’s all you’ll get all day.” He handed her the bottle and she couldn’t help but drag it straight to her lips. She had to do something to help get her through the day. The burn she expected didn’t happen. It was like he’d poured a few fingers in a glass full of water. She coughed on the unfamiliar drink. Not that she’d had the best whiskey since coming, but it was better than nothing. This swill was worse than nothing. It was cheap moonshine, like her pa had made, but at least half strength.
“What is this?” She slammed it down on the table.
“That’s what I’m going to give you until you can get back to a reasonable amount. You’re a drunk, Hattie. A filthy, rotten, little sheet-scraper, drunk.”
She was exactly what he’d made her and his words burned. “And you’re a—”
She didn’t see the slap coming until it lit the back of her eyes and her cheek burned with a deep fire. Hattie screamed and shot to her feet, knocking him back. She grabbed the bottle and heaved it at him as he scrambled away from her. It went wide and exploded against the wall, leaving a huge circle of whiskey and an arc of dark glass all over the floor.
“I’m tired of your outbursts.” He cleared the distance between them in two strides and, clutching the robe, he yanked her to his body. “I’ll teach you to mind.”
A harsh slamming on the door stopped Roy’s words and he shoved her onto the bed. He strode to the door and unlatched all the mechanisms then yanked it open to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders that filled the doorway. His appearance was unexpected but her gaze caught on the badge on his chest; shiny even in the dim light of her cloudy window. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Was this the man Roy said was looking for her?
“What’s going on in here?” He looked at her, then Roy, then back at her and held. She wanted to clutch her robe around her, which was silly since it felt like just about every man within at least five miles had lain with her.
Roy smirked. “Nothing at all, sir. We’re just sharing a little…companionship, you might say. Why don’t you leave us be?”
The lawman didn’t bother looking at Roy. “You Hattie Arnsby?”
She needed him to know who she was but her mouth worked slower than her mind. She nodded and tossed her legs over the edge of the bed. A feeling she hadn’t had in the last year sparked in the back of her heart: hope.
Roy growled and stepped in front of her. “It’s legal for her to be here. You’ve got no call to come in here.”
The lawman scoffed and tilted his head to see her. She was sure he’d smile, but it never appeared. For some strange reason, that left her off-kilter, like a set of stairs not quite plumb.
“If she’s Hattie Arnsby, then there is. Hattie was taken from Deadwood against the wishes of her guardians. They want her back.”
Hattie’s heart raced in her chest. She hoped she could return home, but the shame of who she was had held her back from even trying.
“You’ll never get her out of here. You aren’t the law here.”
“You don’t think Deputy Peterson would be fool enough to ignore Sheriff Bullock, do you?”
Even Hattie, though she’d let her mind get washed away by drink nightly, knew of the formidable Seth Bullock. No one messed with him. He’d managed to tame Deadwood, as much as it could be tamed, without ever shooting anyone. He was a living legend. She pulled her robe tightly around her and considered running behind the lawman while Roy was distracted, but how would she get past Ros’s muscle men downstairs?
Roy strode up to the lawman and pointed a finger into his chest. Hattie held her breath and waited for Roy to be knocked across the room as it appeared the cowboy-styled lawman wanted to do just that.
“I still don’t know who you are and why you think you can just barge in here. Hattie came with me of her own free will and now she works here, for me.”
Hattie shook her head, her matted blond hair rough against her cheek. Her words tumbled free before she could think them through, “He tricked me. He told me he cared. I don’t want to be here anymore. I am Hattie Arnsby. Take me home, whoever you are.”
He tipped his hat to her. “Good to find you, Miss Arnsby. Sorry it took me so long. I’m Hugh Bradly and I’ll get you out of here as quickly as I can.”
Chapter Two
HUGH HADN’T SWORE IN a long time, but he wanted to now. He knew what Hattie would look like; her sisters, Ruby and Jennie had both described her as looking much like Jennie, blond with a straight nose and tiny bones. What was the word Jennie had used? Petite. They said she’d look younger and have a fire in her eyes. Catching Hattie’s gaze, he wanted to swear again. There was definitely a spark there, but it was near burnt out. She’d been used and it scorched his gut because he knew how young Hattie was. The fool in front of him either didn’t know or didn’t care. Men like him took advantage of the new laws in the state of South Dakota. It wasn’t lawless, as people thought; just too new to have enacted the ones they needed. Bullock was doing his best to bring justice to the area, but he couldn’t do it alone.
He shrugged off his coat and handed it to Hattie. She blushed which was shocking since she’d probably seen about everything in the last few months…excepting maybe kindness. “Do you need anything else from this room?” He looked around him to keep from staring at the girl in her flimsy nightclothes. He’d never frequented saloons, much less the rooms upstairs, and he’d
had quite enough of The Red Garter.
“I have this, if you need it.” Hattie’s quaking voice angered him all the more. If he could shove that rat out into the hallway, she might not be so afraid. Hattie pulled out a drawer and reached behind it, pulling out a small bundle of cash. The man jumped for it. Hugh stepped in his way as Hattie dashed it behind her back. “You just leave this alone, Roy! You can’t have this! You got all my wages, these were tips and they’re mine!” she screamed.
Hugh held Roy at arm’s length but his arm fairly itched to yank back and send him flying into the wall. “You just keep away from her. She isn’t your concern anymore.”
Roy snickered and rested his hands on his hips. “You think so? You think you can just walk out of here with her because you say so? I think you’re trying to steal her. You’d better have more than your little badge if you think you can just walk in here and take her. She isn’t going anywhere and I’m going to talk to Ros.” He pushed past them and stomped away, leaving Hugh alone with Hattie in a room that smelled of strong drink with a hint of perfume. It was enough to gag a dog. He glanced at her. “You ready?”
She drowned in his large coat and he was reminded she’d only just turned eighteen in the last few days. She was no longer a child; her last months of childhood stolen by grownup vices.
“Yes. I’ve wanted to leave from the very first moment I was brought here.” She gazed up at him, clutching the roll of bills in front of her.
“Good. Do you have a bag or anything?” He couldn’t imagine her traipsing through town in what she was wearing, but maybe they could use some of her cash on a dress or at least some fabric. He couldn’t travel with her looking like that. Just the amount of calf and ankle she was showing under his coat would have people staring.
“No. They took the one dress I could call my own. As it is, they could accuse me of stealing what I’m wearing. It isn’t really mine.”
