Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  Casey pulled out her knife and carefully sliced her fingernails. While walking through the dining room, too dang slowly because of the dress, she’d overheard a whisper that Sheldrake was at Baldy’s, waiting for someone. After it got darker, say about ten o’clock, she’d meander down and find out what was happening. Maybe it would answer some of the questions asked by Miss Lily, Sophie, or Rosa. If the men wouldn’t tell her what was going on, she’d make sure the women in the know accepted her!

  Two hours later Casey crouched in the dark behind Baldy’s Saloon. A new whore had come in on the stage that day and there was a fair bit of whoop-up happening as they decided who would have her next. While Casey hated to think what was going on in the small crib behind the saloon, the woman had sauntered back there by herself. She’d given the waiting men a saucy grin. One of them bent over and lifted his hat to her, like a gentleman would a lady. She’d curtseyed to him, making sure he got an eyeful of what she was selling. She’d stood up just before her breasts had popped out of her low-cut red satin dress.

  Casey planned to try that on Cole one of these nights. She’d ask Sophie to help her fix her dress so it looked like she’d fall out any minute, but wouldn’t. She’d heard from the other wives that some husbands didn’t want to touch them once they found out a baby was on the way. Even though Doc said women could keep on having sex until the baby was due, they worried they’d hurt her or the baby.

  Casey already knew Cole could be stubborn, thinking he knew what was best for her. If he decided she was too precious to be touched, she’d put on her fancy dress. Let him see what he knew he wanted but told himself he shouldn’t have. It worked before. The thought kept her warm in the chilly breeze until she heard Sheldrake’s voice.

  “I seen her light’s on. She still in her room?” Someone Casey couldn’t see mumbled an answer. “Well, where the hell is she, then? I got plans for that woman!” She heard the sound of a blow. “Did you check the shitter?”

  Casey had found an empty barrel with one side stove in that Baldy had tossed behind his saloon. The open side faced toward Dieter Arnott’s butcher shop. He went to bed as soon as the sun went down, so there should be no light coming from that direction to let anyone find her. Still, she tried to curl up even smaller. Her room was on the second floor, but she’d turned her light off right after changing out of her dress. They couldn’t be talking about her, so who was Sheldrake after?

  “Bitch never uses it,” said the man, whining. “Sceered of rattlesnakes.”

  “It were a bull snake I put in there,” said Sheldrake. Casey could hear the sneer in his voice. “Jennet was so busy readin’ his newspaper that the damn thing ran over his toe afore he saw it. He ran out screamin’, pants around his ankles, and fell in a pile of cowshit. Face-first.”

  Loud guffaws erupted. Casey realized they must be after Mrs. Jennet. But she was the one who’d hired Sheldrake to kill her husband. What was going on?

  The men moved past her hiding spot, heading east. She waited a few minutes and then carefully got out. She’d make a deep loop to avoid Jennet’s place and go in the hotel kitchen to talk to Sophie. Or maybe she should go straight to the sheriff?

  She turned and hit something soft. A hand came down on her shoulder, fingers digging in like claws. The other clapped across her closed mouth. She kicked, fighting to get at her knife. With her jaw shut she couldn’t bite. The hand came off her mouth. She opened it to inhale and scream. A burst of pain erupted on her jaw. She barely managed a squeak before collapsing.

  * * * *

  Joe Sheldrake grabbed a handful of shirt to drag the kid off the ground. He’d pay for sneaking around, listening in on what he oughtn’t. But his hand felt something other than a boy’s thin ribs.

  “What the hell?”

  He took a good feel. A woman! His cock went from damn-all to hell-yeah faster than he could haul air into his lungs. He yanked her closer to the light spilling out of Baldy’s front door and pulled off her hat.

  Well, wasn’t this perfect? Casey Wright, all dressed up to spy on him, landing right at his feet. His fury at not finding Mrs. Jennet faded. He knew a few with gold to pay for her hot little body. Unfortunately, they wanted that body untouched. He couldn’t have Casey, but Eudora Jennet was another matter. The bitch was old and mouthy, but she was female. His cock would fit in her just fine. She’d cut her husband out of her bed years ago so she ought to be nice and tight. But not tonight. Tonight he’d bring this little filly to a special place where she’d be safe. He’d send word down the trail that he had her and see who came riding up with bags of gold.

  She weighed little so he slung her over his lap when he rode out of town. Though it was dark, he’d ridden to Rivers’ cabin often in the dark and could find it easily. At least this one was easy to carry since she didn’t scream and struggle. Bit of a disappointment, though. He liked to see their fear.

  So did the men who’d be bidding on her.

  Sheldrake tied her as he had the others and left her with two buckets, one full of fresh water, the other empty. She had to be in good shape or she wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel. He raced his horse back to town to collect his other prize. She’d go into the room where Rivers had kept Molly. He’d leave her there gagged and with her hands tied and head for Bannack City. A fast word in a few ears that Casey was ready to be plucked, and he’d race back. Casey would get an earful while he played with the older bitch, but maybe it would learn her some. Make her more amenable to what the man buying her would want.

  * * * *

  “Both Eudora Jennet and Casey Taylor are gone.”

  Sophie’s morning smile faded at the sheriff’s words. The oatmeal in her stomach turned to lead. She slumped onto the hard bench. Choosing the man she knew best, she looked toward Doc.

  “How?”

  He shook his head. Barstow helped himself to a cup of coffee before answering.

  “I figure Casey climbed out the window or waltzed out the door. The dress she wore to dinner was lying on her bed, all neat. Cole says her boy clothes and boots are gone. She might have gone back to her old haunts ’cause she’s mad at being stuck in town. She could turn up when she damn well feels like it.” One lip twitched. “Cole says when he finds her, she won’t sit down for a week.”

  Sophie kept her comments to herself. Cole had no one to blame but himself. She would be furious if a brand-new husband thought he could pat her on the head, wrap her in cotton wool, and set her aside like a porcelain doll to await his triumphant return.

  “We think Eudora was drugged,” said Doc. “There was a trace of it in the room.”

  “She fought him,” added Barstow. “Her bed was a mess, sheets torn right off the mattress. But no one heard anything.”

  “Could Casey have been out watching and followed them?” asked Sophie. “She could be finding her way back even now.” Or she could have been captured.

  Barstow pressed his thumb and finger over his bushy moustache. He shared a speaking glance with Doc.

  “Somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ us, ma’am?”

  She pressed her lips together and stood up. “There’s a lot I’m not telling you. Why should I when you refuse to listen?”

  “Don’t be startin’ that again,” said the sheriff. He held his hands up as if to push her away. “The judge said Miss Lily brought a packload of rumors back from Helena. But that’s all they are. We ain’t got time for running after nonsense some dancehall girl said she overheard a drunk spouting in a saloon.”

  Doc winced at Barstow’s insulting tone but didn’t support her. She whirled around, turning her back on both of them. She eyed the skillet, wondering if a smack upside the head would bring any sense into the sheriff’s head. No, Mary would have already done that to her husband if she’d thought it would work.

  Wait until Lily heard what their esteemed sheriff thought of the information she’d gathered! Snowballs would be flying in hell before Lily or Rosa would tell the men anything again.


  “The Sweetwater boys are riding a sweep from town along the Bannack City road,” said Barstow. “They’re a mite worried about her,” he grudgingly added.

  “Three men can’t make a very big sweep,” she replied, biting her tongue before she said more. They were Casey’s husbands, and the young woman would have to work things out with them herself. Sophie had a good idea that something had happened, but she couldn’t tell the men why. Intuition was not based on facts, and that was all they believed in. She took up the butcher knife and began cutting salt pork into strips. “After what Casey did for this town, you’d think more would be done to find her.”

  “There’s few men left on the ranches,” said Doc kindly. “Casey is likely safe. It’s Eudora Jennet that’s got us worried. She’s not the type to set foot outside her bedroom unless every hair is perfect, buttons done up, and shoes shined to a high polish.”

  Casey could be hurt or off doing her own investigation, but Eudora was another kettle of fish. No matter that the woman was as sour as lemon juice, she didn’t deserve to be harmed. At least, not without a trial proving her guilt.

  “Casey overheard Eudora and Sheldrake talking, back in the summer,” said Sophie reluctantly. “She said it sounded like Eudora hired Sheldrake to kill her husband so she could remarry and take over the bank.”

  The two men swore, Barstow in a much more colorful manner.

  “And when were you going to tell me this?” demanded Barstow.

  Sophie turned to face him. She held the knife so it pointed up but the blade faced the sheriff. “Maybe when you bothered to tell us women what’s going on in our own town.”

  “What the heck’re you goin’ on about?”

  “You wouldn’t tell us anything and now Eudora Jennet’s gone. Who knows where Casey is.”

  The sheriff’s eyes slid past hers. His moustache twitched. “Telling you was up to the Pinkerton agent,” he said in a low growl. He took his hat off, banged it against his thigh, and stuffed it on his head again. “This isn’t getting Mrs. Jennet found.” He tossed the rest of the coffee down the hatch and set the cup down with a deliberate thump. He set his fists on his hips and crowded Sophie, trying to intimidate her with his menacing power. “You will tell me everything when I get back. Y’hear?”

  Sophie put one stiff index finger in his chest and pushed. She kept pushing until he backed up. Only one step, but both made their points.

  “We may share information when you get back,” she corrected.

  “I’m the sheriff here, Mrs. McLeod. You will tell me what I want to know.”

  She curled her lip at him. “You forget that I buy pies and such from Sarah’s Bakery, where your wife works. The place where you have the privilege of living, thanks to Sarah Frost’s generosity.” She lifted her chin and an accusing eyebrow. “That growing family of yours wouldn’t fit very well in the old sheriff’s one-room cabin, would it? And what would Mary think of that?”

  “You tryin’ to blackmail me?”

  Though he grimaced at her, his eyes narrowed, she spotted a faint blush of pink on his tanned cheeks. Mary was not a shy violet. Not only did she stand up for herself, she was with child, their first. Owen Barstow, sheriff or not, had no chance against his wife.

  “Why, shucks no, Sheriff Barstow,” replied Sophie in a breathy, little-girl voice. “I’se jest speakin’ the truth.”

  He glared back until Doc snickered. He whirled around and stomped out the door, leaving it open. Doc gave her a wink and followed, thumbs in his vest pockets. He was whistling when he shut the door.

  Sophie sagged against the table for a moment, then straightened her spine. She looked around the kitchen. Everything could wait while she ran over to Lily’s for a quick visit.

  What had happened to Eudora? And where was Casey?

  Chapter 27

  Casey placed her palm on her jaw and, very gently, tried to move it. No white-hot agony shot through the background pain. No sound of grinding bones. She opened her mouth. Though it hurt like the dickens, she could open her lips far enough to lick them. Her tongue investigated her teeth next. None seemed loose enough to fall out. One eye was fine and she could see well enough through the other one to focus.

  Her head throbbed, but so did the rest of her body. She pushed herself to sit up. Dawn was just breaking. She closed her swollen eyes before a shaft of sun could enter the room and hit her. She knew from past experience that bright sun and headaches were not good together. Pappy had backhanded her into a wall far too often to forget such lessons.

  She still had her shirt, coat, and pants on, so Sheldrake hadn’t raped her while she was unconscious. She winced. He was probably the type who wanted the woman awake so he could see her fear and hear her scream. For some reason he’d left her here, but he’d be back. Maybe he went to tell his boss he’d caught her. He’d be surprised when he came back for her. She’d be long gone before he returned.

  The roiling in her stomach calmed a bit now that she was upright. She shifted to stretch her legs out. A sharp pain hit at the same time as she realized only one foot had moved. Her left ankle, the one that didn’t move, stung. She ran her hand down her pant leg. She felt bare skin, so her boot had been taken off. So she wouldn’t kick?

  Then she felt cold metal. There was something around her ankle. She opened her eyes, squinting.

  “No!”

  She scuttled backward, scrabbling hands and feet against the rough floor. Metal clanked as she moved. But only so far. Terror squeezed her heart. She held her breath, heart pounding. But nothing changed.

  A thick rusty snake of chain connected her ankle to the stove. Just like Pappy had done to Mama. Just like her fiancés said they’d do to her. She frantically looked around the room. Quick movements made her head spin. Pounding blood shot the pain level higher. Nothing mattered but escape.

  She’d never told anyone what else she’d overheard her fiancés and their friends say. How she’d be kept chained to the stove just like this, only naked, available for anyone who wanted to use her. They didn’t care if she made a baby with someone else as they were all kin.

  Mama said Pappy had tied her to the stove when they first got to the mountains, so she wouldn’t run away. But he hadn’t let anyone touch Mama. Not until…

  Casey cried out as memories smashed through the barrier she’d erected long ago. The night Pappy brought Bart and some of his good buddies home. Pappy’d been out of ’shine for a while but Bart brought plenty to share. Casey had been peeling potatoes or something inside the cabin and she’d stayed hidden. Pappy’d said something to Mama, who shot a scared look at Bart. Then Mama came in the cabin and, her voice shaking, told Casey to take Willy to their cave for the night.

  Mama told her to do that every time Pappy got that look in his eye. But this was different. Casey was so worried that she’d come back early. The sun wasn’t up when she and Willy came into the cabin. Pappy was snoring in the corner, but Mama was not in her bed. Shaking, she’d sent Willy out the back way to get water. Then she’d looked for Mama.

  She’d found four men snoring by the remains of a fire. Two of them had passed out before buttoning their pants up. On the other side of the fire was her mother, a bloom of red leaking from her neck. Casey had held back a cry at the gash in her mother’s throat and then looked down. Bruises and worse covered her still, white body. Casey’s stomach had heaved but there was nothing in it to lose. Then she’d seen the big knife by her mother’s hand.

  She’d quickly covered Mama with a blanket so Willy wouldn’t see what they’d done to her. She’d taken the bucket of water from him and sent him off to snare a rabbit for the pot. She’d cleaned Mama and laid her out on a sheet, right there on the ground.

  When Pappy found out Mama was dead, he’d started in on swearin’. He’d gone up one hill and down the next with his cussin’. He’d said it was Bart’s fault that he lost his cook and housekeeper, and Bart owed him for it.

  Though Mama had taken her own life, her need to
do so came from Bart and Pappy. Bart was long gone. Casey would have killed him with the same knife if he’d still been there. The other men were also at fault, but she couldn’t kill them. Nor could she kill Pappy. The clan would make her their whore. They’d chain her to the stove where she’d be easy pickings for any men who wanted her.

  Just like she was right now.

  But that was not going to happen to her. She would kill herself before letting Sheldrake rape her. She looked around the room. An empty bucket sat a few feet away. Across the room, within her circle of movement, was one filled with water. There was nothing else but old packrat nests, shed snakeskins, and dirt.

  Her hand crept to her hip. Her breath shuddered as she exhaled. Her knife was still there. She pulled it out. With it in her fist she felt more in control, less the victim. She could do what her mother had, but she’d do it before she was defiled.

  She looked at the shackle around her ankle. Her bones were small so she could fit a couple of fingers between her skin and the metal cuff. Each link was the length of her hand. The cuff was made of two half circles of flattened metal, each with a hinge. Only a few minutes of walking would scrape her skin raw.

  She moved closer to the stove to give herself some slack in the chain. She lifted her ankle and set it on the opposite knee. The hinges were made of a thin, flat piece of metal with cutouts in the middle that, when bent in half, made crude circles. The circles of each hinge lined up. Everything was rusty except for the nail that held the hinge closed.

  If she could get that nail out, she could escape.