Bounty Hunter Proposal (12 page)

A look of alarm came over Violet. “Don’t make me go with him, Clarice.”

Clarice poured tea into a cup and pushed it towards her. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I was nervous my first time too, which is why the lady I worked for gave me to a very nice, elderly gentleman. He was gentle as a lamb. And that is precisely what I’ll arrange for you. All the men coming tonight are over sixty.”

“Except for me, I’m not over sixty.” Ben took the second sandwich. “And I promise you, I’m no lamb.”

Clarice chuckled. “That right there is the wolf.” She sobered and looked at Ben for a moment as if trying to remember something. “I could have sworn you had a mail order bride coming.”

Ben nodded. “I do, but there’s a small problem with her.”

Clarice frowned. “You haven’t even met her.”

“Doesn’t matter. Cameron’s in love with her.”

She snorted. “Cameron Sutton in love? I don’t think so. That’s the most surly, cantankerous man I’ve ever met.”

“It is hard to believe, I’ll admit, but I can tell, he’s in love. My brother can have my mail order bride and I’ll marry Violet.”

Violet gave a gasp of indignation. She narrowed her eyes at him and he almost groaned. For some reason the small gesture made his arousal burn hotter. His cock, already in a state of semi arousal, hardened even more. He met her sneer with his own smoldering gaze. He let his attention fall to the swell of her breasts, displayed so beautifully in the low-cut dress. Part of him appreciated the lovely view, and another part of him resented the fact that other men in the Magnolia might glimpse something he already felt belonged to him.

Clarice snorted, interrupting his thoughts. “You can just forget about anything you’re planning, Ben. This girl is going to be the jewel in the Magnolia’s crown.”

Ben shook his head. “What time tonight, Clarice?”

“You’re not invited,” she snapped.

He winked at Violet. “I’ll see you this evening, baby. I like your hair down like that.”

Clarice fumed. “You’re not welcome in the game, Ben. I promised these gentlemen there would be only four at the table.”

Ben got up from the chair. He stroked his finger along Violet’s jaw and lifted it, forcing her attention on him. The touch turned his lust molten. She blushed which only made his torment deepen. Dropping his hand he nudged the plate closer to her.

“Better eat that last sandwich, Violet. I like my lambs with a little fat on them.” He walked out of the room, past the empty bar and pushed through the swinging doors.

Coming For The Cowboy - Chapter Two

Violet’s heartbeat drummed against her sternum. It thumped so hard she was certain everyone in the room heard it. The smoky room felt like a courtroom, no one speaking, three old men silently rearranging and contemplating their cards, and her on trial, these men about to decide her fate.

The fourth player, Mr. Cavendish, was running late, so Clarice had started the game without him. After dealing the first hand Clarice moved about the room, refilling the men’s whiskey glasses. When she returned to her chair, she went around the table, asking each man how many cards he wanted, and waiting while they discarded, folded, stayed or raised.

Let this night just be over with.

She shivered as a sliver of anxiety threaded through her. She tried to tamp down her terror by thinking of her younger sister, who by now would be on a train heading to San Francisco. Vivian’s classes at the conservatory would start in a week and she would arrive just in time for the new school year. It was her sister’s dream and Violet was going to help her fulfill it.

Vivian was special. Even as a child people called her that. Gentle, angelic, she attracted others both with her sweet demeanor and with her heavenly music. Children would stop their games to dance to her faster pieces, grown men cried when she slowed it down. Her small town music teacher called her a prodigy, said that people all over the world would come to know the name Vivian Pendleton, the Poet of the Piano.

Genius like Vivian’s often attracts evil. After their parents died, evil did indeed pay a visit. Gerald Williams, a business partner of their father’s, became a regular visitor to their home. At first just to check on
his girls
as they sold off their possessions to pay debts. He liked to stop by and offer to buy a few pieces, acting the part of the Good Samaritan all the while.

A month later Vivian announced Gerald had asked for her hand. Violet was shocked and then horrified as details of the man’s life came to light. Gerald was rumored to have killed two wives and as many mistresses. Vivian thought she had no choice but to marry him. It was then that Violet put her plans in motion and packed her sister off to the west coast, leaving a note at the house for Gerald to find, and to hopefully end his pursuit of her sweet sister.

Her plan seemed perfect, but now she felt sick at what she faced. All she needed to do was get through the first night. The girls told her that the players had all been hand-picked for their manners and gentleness. Clarice told her there was a chance the night’s winner might keep her for the entire month. That was the best that could come of this, sex with the same old man several times over the course of the next month, as much as a sixty-something year old could do, which wasn’t much she hoped.

“You’re the type of girl who would inspire that sort of arrangement,” Clarice had told her. “I think you might prefer that sort of arrangement too.”

Yes, very much so, she thought.

The first three men had arrived thirty minutes early, doddering old men, all ignored her and began talking about cattle prices and the new railroad line.

She kept her eyes on the door, wondering what the fourth man would be like. The door swung open and there stood not an old, hunched man, but Benjamin Sutton, filling the doorway with his large, muscular frame. She almost fainted. He walked in wearing a dark suit, clean shaven and smoking a cigar. He flashed her a grin and started toward her.

Clarice hopped up and blocked his path. “What’s your business here, Ben?” she said, between gritted teeth.

He frowned, looking affronted. “Mr. Cavendish sends his regrets.”

Clarice eyed him warily. Violet watched the madam as she folded her arms over her chest and glared daggers at Ben. In the two days Violet had been in Clarice’s care and tutelage, she’d seen just how formidable the petite woman could be. One minute she might be soothing a patron’s feelings after a poker loss, the next she might be dragging another out the front door by his ear. If anyone could stand Ben down it would be Clarice. Violet held her breath and watched her unlikely champion take on the man who towered over her.

“What did you do with Milton?” Clarice demanded.

His eyes left her and moved to Clarice, a mock look of innocence on his face. “Nothing. He told me his plans had changed. Or, maybe I told him his plans had changed. I don’t recall.” He looked back at Violet. His gaze darkened to a smoldering heat. “Let me talk to my girl. I’ve been missing her all afternoon.”

Clarice didn’t let him past, thank goodness. Violet held her breath when he looked at her like a wolf stalking his prey.

“Come on Clarice, you need a fourth and here I am. Let me play. You know I’ll take good care of Violet when I win.”

Clarice grumbled and huffed but finally relented and let him pass to the open chair. Violet was incredulous. Clarice had sworn it would just be kind, elderly gentlemen at the table, not swaggering, young men, full of salacious talk and scandalous propositions. Violet watched with growing dismay as Ben eased his tall frame into the chair, accepted a drink from one of the waiters and began conversing with one of the other players.

The card game resumed. Between bets and small talk Ben often looked at her with a sultry smile, a smile that sent shivers down her spine.

“Violet,” he called. “You look lonely sitting over there by yourself. Why don’t you come help me win this next hand?”

He was cocky and arrogant. None of the other men spoke with her or even acknowledged her, but he acted as though she already belonged to him.

“I’m fine sitting here. Thank you.”

Clarice came and whispered to her several times, urging her to have a drink or chat with the men.

“I’ll just sit by the fire and let the men play,” Violet said. “It’s better that way. I’m not one for flirting and small talk.”

One of the elderly men got up from the table and excused himself for the night, claiming the stakes were too high for him. He gave her a curt nod and shuffled out of the room. A moment later, another gentleman followed without saying goodnight.

Ben looked at her from across the room. “Won’t be long. Try to be patient, lamb.”

Violet’s skin prickled. Gerald had been charming, too. Over the years, he’d charmed the sheriff, the judge and countless women, and got away with murder. In her haste to help her sister, Violet hadn’t considered she might put herself in danger. A deep, icy fear filled her. She looked at his hands, his shoulders, and his massive physique. What would it be like to offer herself up to a man like Ben Sutton?

Clarice had mentioned his mail ordered bride. Some poor woman in a distant town was packing her bag and planning her future with a man who intended to cast her off to a surly, heartless brother. Men played games. Did what they liked. It was always women who paid the price for their whims and changes of heart.

Fifteen minutes later the last of the older gentlemen slowly rose from his chair. He shuffled across the room, his pace hindered by a severe limp. She held her breath.

“Well, my lovely,” he said. “I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. I spent a great deal of money to stay in the game but, in the end, it was Mr. Sutton who won the privilege of your company.”

She nodded. Her throat tightened. This went against every promise Clarice had made.

“Good night, sir,” she whispered.

When the gentleman was gone, Clarice let out a sigh. She poured herself a drink and took a swallow. Her look was one of remorse and she seemed to want to say something, but Ben spoke instead.

“Are you ready to go, my pretty little Violet?”

“What are you talking about? Go where?” asked Clarice. “The girl has a room here.”

He shook his head and got up. “She’s got a room at the Cypress for the next month. I’ll send for her things.”

Violet said nothing, shock having robbed her of words. She looked beseechingly at Clarice. The woman promised to watch out for her. But Clarice showed no sign of arguing with him and merely closed her eyes.

“Let’s see,” she murmured. “A month should run you about…”

Ben took out his wallet and tossed some bills on the table. “A thousand. Take it or leave it.”

Clarice scooped up the bills and smiled at him. “A thousand will do nicely.”

“I’m not going,” Violet said. Her voice cracked with emotion. “I’m not going with him.”

Clarice narrowed her eyes. “You’ve made your bed, girl. Now it’s time to sleep in it.”

Violet pointed a shaking finger at Ben. “This man is known for
breaking
beds.”

Ben shook his head. “I’m pretty certain that’s a slight exaggeration.”

Violet backed away. “This wasn’t the agreement. I’m not going with him.”

“You’re not staying here,” Ben said, crossing the room. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving a delicate thing like you in a place like this.”

“Now Ben, what do you mean saying something like that?” Clarice asked. She sniffed and poured herself another drink. She leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the chair across from her. “I take good care of my girls.”

Violet bit her lip. Nothing about Clarice’s words or demeanor suggested she would be of any help. If anything, she looked pleased with the outcome. Violet whirled around to Ben. All signs of joking and bluster were gone from his face. His eyes burned with an intensity that only added to her panic. He stalked closer as she retreated, until her path was blocked by a table. Head and shoulders taller than she, Ben loomed over her.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered.

“I don’t really care,” he whispered back.

She tried to dart way from him, but he grabbed her, picked her up and put her over his shoulder. She cried out, but he smacked her bottom sharply as he strode to the doorway and down the back hall. They passed a throng of rowdy cowboys coming in for a good time, and some of the working girls. Everyone stepped aside and watched. Violet, hanging upside down, saw their expressions. Some smiled, some looked shocked, but not one offered help or said a word against the rampaging giant who carried her.

“You’re coming with me, Violet,” he said as casually as if he were discussing the weather. He kicked the door open and stepped out into the cold night air. “I’m never going to let you step foot in this place again.”

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