Bride Gone Bad

by Sabine Starr

  She felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t let this stranger get in her way. She had female allies now. She didn’t need him, or any man. The Ladies Benevolent Society would help her get to Indian Territory.

  She watched him come closer till he towered over her. She wished she’d stood up as soon as he’d entered her room so that she was in a stronger position, but she’d been weak from the encounter. He appeared powerful and passionate. With no shirt, she could see the hard muscles, the taut nipples, and the smooth, almost hairless skin of his chest. Oddly enough, he had a black tattoo in the shape of a solar cross, an equal-limbed cross set in a circle, over his heart. She wondered why and what it meant. He balanced easily on the balls of his feet, as if ready for battle or to overwhelm her. He appeared more warrior than gentleman.

  She caught his scent, and it exacerbated her need. She wanted to lower her nightgown so she could press her bare breasts against his bare chest. Flesh to flesh. Passion to passion. Female to male. As if a flower bud had unfurled into blossom, she felt wet heat flow between her thighs. She wanted him to stop the ache, the desire, the need, but she couldn’t give in to her lust. She knew it was a passing fancy brought on by her heightened senses after a ghostly encounter. She’d been subject to it, as she had been to seeing ghosts, since turning from girl to woman at fourteen, but resisting her impulses came harder with each passing year.

  Carefully, she placed her hands, palms down, on her thighs, and took a deep breath. “All is well here. I prefer for you to leave my room now.”

  He chuckled, a sensual sound, and then pulled a chair away from the table, turned it around, and sat down with his arms across the back. “We’re going to have a little talk.”

  “No. You’re going to leave my room.”

  “How long have you been seeing ghosts? Since menarche?”

  “Thank you for your earlier help. I’m no longer in need of your services, so you may leave.”

  “Did you get any formal training, or are you a natural?”

  “Please leave.”

  “You saw them all, didn’t you? Husband, wife, baby?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Here’s the big question. Do they talk to you? Can you communicate with them?” He drummed his fingertips on the back of the chair. “From what I heard, sounds like that’s the case. If it is, you’re rarer than hen’s teeth.”

  “You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

  “Do you have any idea how much I need you . . . a Spirit Rattler?” He leaned forward. “I won’t beat about the bush. Tell me what you want for your help and you’ve got it.”

  She felt her breath catch in her throat, hardly able to believe her ears. She was caught between wanting to believe he appreciated her affliction and fear that he simply wanted to hurt her with the truth.

  She didn’t answer right away. She’d learned the art of holding her tongue. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t see and talk with ghosts. But as she’d grown up, her friends had started to treat her as if she were odd and had refused to play with her. Elmira and Lamira, her loving grandmother and great-aunt, had explained that sometimes members of their family saw what others did not. They had comforted her, listened to her tales of long ago or more recent times that she heard from ghosts, and supported her desire to help the ghosts heal and move on. Over time, she’d found that ghosts were her friends when many others rejected her for being different.

  “I don’t have time for games.” His amber gaze turned dark.

  “I don’t, either.” She frowned, pushing past her weakness in wanting a man like Lucky to accept her. “For your information, you’re not the only person in the world who has needs and lacks time to be bothered with strangers.”

  He smiled, dimple appearing and disappearing. “You have needs? What kind? Whatever you need, name it.”

  “I’m not going to discuss anything with you.”

  He stood up abruptly, paced across the room, and then came back to tower over her. “I hadn’t wanted to do this, but you’re giving me no choice.” He reached down, lifted her to her feet, selected her left hand, and pressed her palm against the solar cross over his heart.

  For a moment she struggled to get free, but then she felt lethargic, even woozy, and leaned against him for support. “Let me go,” she mumbled, feeling her thoughts whirl in chaos.

  “You’re a Spirit Rattler, aren’t you?”

  “I have an affliction.” She felt the words drawn from her, as if she’d needed to say them for a long time.

  “What?”

  “Nobody wants or likes a person who sees things that aren’t there.” She felt relieved to say those words, too.

  “Idiots!” He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’ve been punished or shunned for your gift?”

  “Curse, you mean.”

  “Never again.” He pressed her hand hard against his chest. “I’ll treasure you for the rare gift you are.”

  “You lie.”

  “No. I’ll prove it to you.” He hesitated, and then tilted back her chin with one hand so he could look into her eyes. “Tell me true, do you see and communicate with ghosts?”

  She hesitated, and then nodded, feeling as if she’d released a great weight. But she also felt tired, so very tired.

  She felt him gently move her hand from his heart to his shoulder, and then draw her against the length of him. She felt his shaft press against her belly. He wanted her, and she shuddered with renewed desire. She’d been alone too long, in need too long, rejected too long, so she was vulnerable, knew it, but couldn’t stop thrusting her fingers deep into his thick hair, pressing her breasts against his chest, and then pushing against his hardness.

  He inhaled sharply before he eased her away. He stepped back, breathing fast. “I was out of line. That’s not in the cards. I need you as a Spirit Rattler. I won’t do anything that might interfere with your ability.”

  “How did you make me answer you?”

  “You have your gift. I have mine.”

  “I want to know more.”

  “Not now. We need to get on the road.”

  “You expect me to simply leave town with you?”

  “Yes. I’ll pay you for your help, but I must leave for Indian Territory in the morning.”

  “Indian Territory?”

  “Got anything against it?”

  “Oh, no. By pay, do you mean money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could it be sent to someone?”

  “Sure.”

  She felt a great relief wash over her. Maybe she’d misjudged his whiskey-colored eyes, or maybe expediency turned sinner to saint. Either way, for the first time in her life, her affliction might actually be an ability.

  “You’ll do it?”

  She smiled. “You’ve got yourself a Spirit Rattler.”

  Chapter 9

  As nighttime activities turned to daytime activities in the Bend, Lucky awoke with a crick in his neck. He sat up from his slump outside Tempest’s door and stretched his cramped muscles. He quickly stood, glanced in both directions, and was glad nobody was in sight. He preferred not to be seen loitering outside a lady’s door, even if it was for a good cause. Maybe he could trust Tempest. Maybe he couldn’t. Either way, now that he’d found her, he wasn’t taking any chances on losing her.

  He knocked on her door. “You awake?”

  For a long moment, he heard nothing, and then came the sound of a chair being moved. When the door opened, he was struck anew by her beauty. Those violet eyes set in a heart-shaped face could move mountains, or men. But looks were the least of her attributes. He had to keep that in mind. She was most likely used to men ogling her and wanting her, so he was betting she’d be immune, or even annoyed, by male reaction to her.

  She was all dolled up in her new clothes and looked more vibrant out of black. She was wearing a fancy chatelaine bag clipped to the waistband of her green skirt. With a silver filigree clasp across the t
op of a black, crocheted purse, it looked old, expensive, and not much like her. He wondered if it was a family heirloom from better times. Fortunately for him, she’d given the impression that she needed money.

  He looked past her at the neatly made bed, the stacked dishes, and a folded pile of black clothes. He liked the fact that she’d gotten up early, and then made ready for the trip. That spoke well for them getting along.

  “Good morning,” she said, giving him the once over. “You have a rough night after you left me?”

  He glanced down at his wrinkled shirt. He adjusted his gun-belt. “I got some sleep.”

  “You didn’t change your mind, did you?”

  “No.”

  “In that case, I’d like to have my money.”

  “You want to be paid up front?”

  “Yes.” She straightened her shoulders. “At least, I’m thinking half up front and half when the job is done.”

  “How much do you want?”

  “I don’t know how much a Spirit Rattler gets paid.”

  “Me, either.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “We’re a pair.”

  He smiled, liking her more than he thought was prudent. “What about a double eagle?”

  “That’s twenty dollars.”

  He didn’t want to lose her by not valuing her enough. “And another one when we’re done.”

  “Forty dollars? That’s a lot.” She cocked her head to one side, as if considering his offer.

  “Maybe a bonus, if all goes as planned and I get what I want.” He liked the fact that she was smart enough to get the best deal.

  “How much?”

  “I won’t know till it’s all said and done.”

  “If I perform as expected, no matter how long it takes, then I deserve a bonus.”

  “I’m not going to quibble with you. If you deserve more, you’ll get more.”

  She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth. “Okay.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “I don’t know what to do about the dishes.”

  “Saul will see to them.”

  “I’d like to donate my black clothes to someone in need.”

  “Saul will take care of that, too.”

  “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Where’s your nightgown?”

  She blushed, pink spreading over her pale skin. “I don’t have a carpetbag, so I’m wearing it under my outer clothes.”

  “We’ll get saddlebags for your things.”

  “Is that part of my payment?”

  He hesitated, realizing the question was fraught with danger. He knew that she wouldn’t accept charity or gifts from a man, so there was only one answer. “Yes. I’m paying for the expenses of the trip. That includes everything you need to accompany me. When we’re done, you may keep what you’ve used as part of your payment for the job.”

  She nodded. “That’ll do.”

  He was glad that he’d settled it so well. He was also glad that he wouldn’t see her wearing those black clothes again. Now he just needed to keep everything moving along at a brisk pace.

  “I travel light. Don’t want to overburden my horse,” he said.

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t we going by train?” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “Mrs. Bartholomew said they were going to march in the towns along the Katy tracks. Atoka. Stringtown. McAlester. Places like that.”

  “That’s all well and good, but any liquor sold in Indian Territory is illegal, so you won’t find it out in the open. It’ll be sold in the countryside, or out of backrooms in towns.”

  “I’d still like to carry the message of temperance to Indian Territory.”

  “Mrs. Bartholomew and her ladies will take care of that.”

  “I’m sure they will, but still—”

  “You’re working for me now. We won’t have time.”

  “In that case, we must amend our partnership.”

  “What?”

  “I told you before. You’re not the only one who has something important to do.”

  “Care to enlighten me?”

  “No. It’s a personal matter. I need to go where whiskey is bought and sold.”

  Lucky stared into her violet eyes, trying to figure out what was going on inside her head. He needed to be on the east side of the Choctaw Nation, not the west side where the trains ran.

  “I see you don’t believe me.” She clasped her hands together. “Okay. I’ll forgo the bonus if you’ll help me find whiskey peddlers.”

  “That’s dangerous. Those men don’t want to be found. If you do locate them, you’ll most likely wind up facing the wrong end of a revolver or a rifle. They won’t take a chance on setting foot in Judge Parker’s court in Fort Smith. They’re good at evading Deputy U.S. Marshals and Lighthorsemen. What makes you think we have a chance of finding them? Indian Territory is a big country.”

  “That’s discouraging news.”

  “I hope so. We don’t have time for dangerous games.”

  “This is no game for me.” She bit her lower lip. “We finish my business first, and then we’ll tackle yours.”

  “You forget who’s paying for this trip.”

  “And who has what you need.”

  He groaned at her obstinacy. “You can’t do what you need without me. I can’t do what I have to do without you.”

  “That leaves us where?”

  “We work together. No way to know what we’ll learn when or where. If we get a lead on your peddlers, we’ll follow up. Otherwise, we go where I need to go.”

  “Maybe our goals are somehow connected and can be followed at the same time?”

  “I doubt it.” A thought struck him. “If you’re planning to destroy whiskey when we find a peddler, forget it. That’s too dangerous.”

  “I want a lot more than that, although I wouldn’t mind dumping whiskey in a river.” She cocked her head, eyes darkened with thought.

  “Don’t even think it.” He reached out, drawn to touch her, but lowered his hand. “If you can come to trust me more, this’ll all go smoother.”

  “That goes for you, too.”

  He nodded. He’d eventually have to trust her, but not till it was absolutely necessary. “Come on in to my room. I need to stuff a few things in my saddlebags.”

  “I’ll wait downstairs.”

  He clasped her upper arm, glad that he had a reason to touch her. “Not so fast. I prefer to keep you in my sight till this job is done.”

  “I insist on some privacy.”

  “Not this morning.”

  He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and glanced down the hall. Big Jim and Saul came into view, looking like trouble.

  Chapter 10

  “Temperance Tempest,” Big Jim called. “You’re just the gal we want to see.”

  “We’ve got big plans,” Saul added.

  When they stopped in front of Tempest, she put her hands on her hips, ready to dissuade them from whatever they had in mind for her.

  “Seeing as how you chopped Lulu in half and got my saloon in an uproar—” Big Jim started.

  “And gave both your businesses a boost,” Lucky said.

  “Be that as it may,” Big Jim continued, “Tempest still owes me. She agreed to spend a night in jail and here she is in the Lone Star’s best room.”

  “I didn’t ask for it,” Tempest said.

  “That don’t make no never-mind,” Big Jim added. “The fine patrons of the Red River Saloon have taken a vote.”

  “On what?” she asked.

  “We agreed that you’ll be forgiven your rash behavior if you’ll find the bar’s artist and get him to repair Lulu.”

  Tempest cast a quick glance at Lucky to see how he was reacting to this outrageous statement.

  “She has no way to find the artist and you know it,” Lucky said. “What do you really want?”

  “Nobody can settle down until the artist fixes Lulu,” Saul said.

  “He cou
ld be anywhere,” Tempest said. “California. Back East.”

  “Nope.” Big Jim puffed out his chest, appearing pleased. “He’s in Indian Territory.”

  “How do you know?” Tempest asked.

  “Man came in last night and drank at the bar. He said he’d seen some art like it in Burnt Boggy Saloon. Not as good, mind you, but the artist is swilling whiskey north of the Red River. It’s your duty to get him back here.”

  “If I did find him,” Tempest said, “how could I persuade him?”

  “Offer him something,” Saul said.

  “Tempest is famous now.” Big Jim glanced around at the group. “She could offer to pose for him.”

  “What?” Tempest cried out.

  “Not in the altogether,” Saul quickly explained. “We’d never ask that of a lady.”

  “We decided that a color painting of you in a fancy red gown in a big gold frame would look right proper above the bar. Course, he’d fix Lulu, too,” Big Jim said.

  “Forget it,” Lucky said. “She’s too busy.”

  “That would be expensive.” Tempest didn’t look at Lucky, knowing he wouldn’t want any part of this scheme. But Elmira and Lamira needed help. Up to this point in life, she had always been good. She’d been a lovely bride and a respectable lady, but Haig and Mrs. Bartholomew had set her on a new path. Now she felt as if she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  “We took up a collection.” Big Jim pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and held it out to her. “If they come from miles around to see the bar, they’ll come clear from Dallas or Paris to see a painting of you.”

  “And I’m hoping he’ll paint a small portrait for the Temperance Tempest Room,” Saul added.

  Tempest couldn’t imagine anybody riding any distance to see her. She wasn’t famous. She was just a discarded bride. Yet she couldn’t turn down the money. “I suppose you’ve included a model fee, the costume price, and the artist’s payment.”

  Big Jim frowned.

  “Add this to the pot.” Saul pulled out an eagle.

  “You sure?” Big Jim pulled open the drawstring pouch.

  “There’s only one Temperance Tempest and the Bend’s got her.” Saul plopped the gold coin in with the others.