Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (100 page)

Chapter 4

            
 
Buck sat beside Clara as the carriage rolled steadily behind Albert. Nathaniel sat up front with Albert’s reins in his hands. Clara still clutched to her small suitcase as if her life depended on it.

              “Now I am curious…” Buck said, leaning towards Clara so he could be heard over the clopping of Alberts hooves.

              “Yes?” Clara said.

              “Just how much money are you carryin’ in that there suitcase?” He wrapped the side of it with his knuckle. Clara frowned.

              “Why would you think there was money in here?” She asked. Buck laughed.

              “Because, since I got on the Texas Express you've been hugging that suitcase just as tight as yer dainty little hands can hold it. So well as I can figure it must have somethin’ in there worth holdin’ on to.” He said.

              “Oh…” Clara said. The truth of the matter was that the case was packed full of undergarments. Her sisters had told her that out in the West, the women wore none and she was going to be darned if she would be caught without her underthings. “Well, it's just my clothes.” She lied. “But it's all I have until I get settled here and my trunks arrive from home.”

              “I should think Mr. Andrew Montague could afford a few dresses and such for his fiancé, wouldn't you?” He asked, still eying the suitcase suspiciously.

              “All the same, Buck, a lady has her favorite garments. I shouldn't expect a man to understand.” She said.

              “And I shouldn't try to understand.” Buck said. “God help me if I ever die and come back to this Earth as a woman, I wouldn't even know where to begin.” He said with a laugh. Clara shook her head.

              “And God help any man who tried to court you.” She said, trying to suppress a smile.

              Nathaniel pulled over to the side of the dirt road and jumping down from his seat he walked around to the side of the carriage. After helping Buck down first, both men stood on either side to help Clara down. It was a rather delicate affair with her frilled petticoats showing more than once as she narrowly missed the step. When finally her feet were on solid ground she brushed her dress with her palms and breathed a sigh of relief. Her cheeks glowed rosy pink.

              “Very elegantly done, ma’am.” Nathaniel said. Clara couldn't tell whether he was joking or not, but she chose to take it as a compliment and thanked him politely. “Have a good afternoon!” He said to them both, and then focusing on Buck, “And don't drink too much.” Buck waved him off.

              “I’ll see you next Thursday!” He shouted after Nathaniel and then turning, he offered the crook of his arm to Clara. She declined the offer but only for the possibility that Mr. Andrew Montague might pass at the very moment that she took Buck’s arm.

              “What is next Thursday?” Clara asked. Buck pulled open the door to the pub and ushered Clara inside.

              “Poker.” He said, as he followed her in. “What’ll you have to drink?” He asked, leading her over to the bar.

              “Just an orange juice, please.” Clara said, placing her suitcase on the floor at her feet.

              “That’s all?” Buck asked. She nodded. “Suit yerself.” He gestured to the bartender. “Barkeep, I'll take the biggest mug of beer you've got and an orange juice for the lady.” Buck jerked his head to Clara and the barkeep stared at her momentarily.

              “She new around here?” He asked Buck. Before Buck could answer however, Clara answered for herself.

              “Yes,
she
is new around here and I even know how to speak for myself.” She said. The bartender looked stunned as his eyes darted from Clara to Buck and back again.

              “Yes…right…” The bartender turned to pour the drinks and as he did Buck couldn't help smirking at Clara.

              “You are some lady.” He said with a chuckle. Clara wasn't exactly sure what he meant, that she was some lady, but what she was sure of was that she hadn't been brought up to play the role of a mindless opinion-less woman. Her father had always stressed the importance of being firm, speaking her mind and always having an opinion whether it was popular or not.

“One beer and one orange juice.” The bartender put the drinks on the bar top. Clara watched as Buck reached in to his pocket to pay for the drinks, but the bartender waved him off. “Buck, you know yer money is no good here.” He said. Buck knew better than to argue and shoving his money back in his pocket, he raised his beer in a silent toast to the bartender.

“So now you tell me something…” Clara said, picking up her suitcase and carrying her orange juice in the other hand. “Why does no one ask you to pay for things?” Buck gestured for her to follow him as he led her to a small table in the corner of the murky room. Setting his beer on the table he pulled out Clara’s chair for her.

“Well, I suppose because I'm the mayor.” Buck said as Clara sat down. At the sound of his words, she landed with a solid thud, almost certainly bruising her tailbone.

“I'm sorry?” She said. “I'm not sure that I heard you correctly.” Buck sat down across from her at the table and took a long swig of his cool beer.

“I said, likely it's because I am the mayor.” He said. Clara nodded slowly and then reaching across the table, she took Buck’s beer and took a long drink of it herself. When she finished, she set the beer down and spoke breathlessly.

“Yes…that's what I thought you said.”

Chapter 5

Drinking just a mouthful of Buck’s beer had made Clara feel lightheaded. In an effort to find her feet again, she guzzled down the full glass of orange juice. Buck watched her, amused.

“Would you like another?” He asked, nodding at the empty glass. “Or perhaps something a little stronger this time so you don't have to go thievin’ mine?” He smirked. Clara shook her head.

“No…thank you. If you could though, please see your way to getting me a glass of water, I would be very much obliged.” She said. Realizing that Clara must not be feeling too well, Buck wasted no time going back to the bar and fetching her a cool glass of water. As he placed it on the table in front of her, he crouched on the floor beside her.

“Is everything okay, Clara?” He asked, looking up in to her beautiful blue eyes. She took a deep breath and slowly let it go before nodding.

“I think so. It must be drinking that beer on top of being so tired from all the traveling.” She said.

“That will do it.” Buck said. “It must be a mighty long trip from Virginia out here to Texas.” He said, reaching up and taking her water, forcing it in to her hand. “Here, drink.” Clara took a small sip of the cool water but when she tried to set the glass down, Buck caught it and lifted it back to her lips. “More.” He said. She took a few more sips and looked to him for approval before she set the glass back down. This time Buck nodded. “Now, I know as how you are waitin’ for Mr. Andrew Montague, but I think that perhaps a little catnap would do you some good.”

“I can't!” Clara began to protest. Buck held up his hand.

“No argument.” He said. “You need to rest before you just keel right over and these men here have me up for murderin’ you.” Clara laughed lightly.

“You don't understand.” She said. Then leaning down, she spoke in a whispered tone. “I have no money. Mr. Montague was supposed to take care of all of that. I have no money, no where to stay…just this ridiculous suitcase.” She kicked it softly as tears began to well up in her eyes once again.

Buck sighed heavily.

“Now, Miss Clara, if you don't know me by now then I can hardly believe that you have been in my company for the last goodness knows how many hours.” He stood upright and pulled the back of Clara’s chair to help her up. “You have a room here for as long as you need it.” He said. Clara opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the look on his face, she thought better of it and she nodded her agreement instead.

Buck held out his hand and without hesitation, Clara put her hand in his. With his free hand, Buck took hold of the small suitcase and then walked Clara over to the bar. With one jerk of his head, Buck got a nod from the bartender and seconds later a key attached to a wooden fob. Scooping up the key and slipping it in to his pocket, Buck took hold of the suitcase once again and proceeded to lead Clara through a narrow door and up a single flight of stairs.

When the door the the room opened, it revealed a much larger room than Clara had been expecting. In stark contrast to the dull and basic bar room downstairs, the bedroom was wallpapered and decorated as nicely as any home. A double bed sat against the wall with a bench at it’s foot and a fireplace across from it. In the far corner by the window sat two red velvet wingback chairs with a small table between them. Finally off to the side was a small powder room that, surprisingly to Clara, was not shared with the adjacent room.

Buck released Clara’s hand and carried her suitcase to the slender bench at the end of the bed. Then, walking to the side of the bed, he pulled back the corner of the bedding and looked at Clara.

“Get some rest. We can go lookin’ for that fella of yours when yer good and well.” He said. “I’ll come and fetch you in the mornin’ after a good night of sleep. If you get hungry, just let the man behind the bar know. He will whip you up somethin’ and put it on my tab.” He waited for Clara to nod her understanding. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her too-tight shoes with a sigh of release. Then she lay back, her golden curls falling about her on the soft pillow and she couldn't help the smile that touched her lips. Buck smiled softly and turned to go. Just as he reached the door, he heard Clara call after him.

“Buck?” She said quietly.

“Hmm?” He spun around.

“Don't go.” She said sleepily.

“Now what kind of gentleman would I be to let anyone see me take a beautiful lady upstairs and not leave her room?” He asked. “You get some rest, you're tired.” He said turning back to the door.

“Please?” Clara said. “Please don't leave me here.” Buck closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself before he turned around. “Just for a little while? Until I fall asleep?” She begged. This time she moved herself to the far side of the bed and patted the bed beside her. “Just lay with me here, just until I fall asleep…” She asked. Buck couldn't say no. Quietly he closed the bedroom door and taking off his shoes, he tiptoed over to the bed and sat on the edge.

“Just for a little while.” He said, as he stretched out beside her. Clara leaned over and placed her head on his chest.

“Just a little while.” She muttered, her fingers rubbing the smooth buttons of his shirt. “Just…” Her voice trailed off and as her body steadily rose and fell, Buck could tell that she was already fast asleep.

Chapter 6

Clara awoke to the feeling that someone was watching her. She cracked her eyes hesitantly. When the first thing in her view was a large fireplace that most definitely belong in her bedroom at her father’s house, her eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay.” Clara was startled to hear the voice beside her and turning around she saw Buck. Only then did she remember where she was and how she had got there. She breathed a sigh of relief as she fell back on to the pillow.

“I forgot where I was.” She said with a slight giggle. Buck laughed.

“Well, you certainly were quite ready to sleep it off.” He said, reaching over and brushing her blonde curls from her face. She nodded.

“It's been a very long day. I feel as though I could sleep another million years.” She said.

“Why don't I leave you to it? You can get all the rest you need and I will check on you in the morning?” Buck said. Clara didn't want to be left alone in such a foreign place, but she was definitely tired enough to sleep through until tomorrow. Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Do you promise you will check on me tomorrow?” She asked. Buck slid off the side of the bed.

“Of course I will.” He said, stepping in to his shoes. “I don't like to leave a damsel in distress.” And it was then that Clara remembered Mr. Andrew Montague. The thought of him abandoning her at the station made her heart heavy and she was still thinking of him when Buck bid his farewell. She must have said her goodbyes as well, it was just that she didn't remember them…not over the volume of her thoughts about Andrew Montague.

After Buck left her room, Clara found herself laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. She was so bone achingly tired and yet her head was reeling with thoughts of Andrew Montague. Why hadn't he shown up? What was she going to do now? Should she telegram her father? Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud grumble from her stomach. It'd been almost a full day since she had eaten anything at all. The excitement of meeting Andrew Montague had tempered her appetite and now that the cards had fallen where they lay, she realized that her faintness in the pub had likely been from hunger. Remembering what Buck had said, Clara sat up on the side of the bed and put on her boots. She would have to brave the room full of drunken fools, if only for a moment.

As Clara came to the bottom of the staircase, an incredible ruckus came from the other side of the door. Daring to crack it open and peek in to the pub, she was astonished by what she saw.

“You're nothing but a no good son of a bitch!” Buck shouted as he pulled back his fist and let it fly. The hit was caught by a large hand. Clara followed the arm attached to that hand, she followed it all the way up to a face with a silver mustache. A face that she recognized from pictures. It was Andrew Montague.

“I may be a son of a bitch, Buck, but at least I made my money through hard work and not off. The hard work of my daddy!” Montague swung back and connected with Buck’s high cheek bone. He recoiled his fist with pain. Buck held his ground and ducking down he socked Montague in the belly.

“That’s enough!” The bartender shouted over the raising voices. “My bar ain't no place for brawlin’. You wanna make each other bleed, go do it outside!” He said.

Ignoring the bartender, Montague drew back his fist and was just about to let it fly when Clara burst through the door.

“Stop it!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. So peculiar was it to hear the voice of a non-working woman in the pub, that everyone fell silent and stared at Clara. “Just stop it!” She said walking over to the two fighters.

“Clara James?” Andrew Montague said.

“The very same.” Clara said. Then, turning to the bar she ordered a glass of ice. When it was provided, she took Buck’s handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the ice in it. “Here,” she said, offering it to Buck, “hold this to your cheek.” Buck did as she told him. “And as for you…” She glared at Andrew Montague, “I believe that you have something to say to me?”

“Umm…” Montague looked dumbfounded, his eyes shot between Clara and Buck and back again.

“Okay, well how about we try it this way.” Clara said. “How about you tell me just what you and Buck here were fighting over?” Andrew Montague shrugged and looked down at his shuffling feet like a child.

“Buck called him out for leavin’ you at the station.” The bartender said. “Then the fists started flyin’ and one of my stools got busted, followed by a couple of glasses too.” Clara looked at Buck, her face softening.

“Is that true?” She asked. Buck shrugged.

“It ain't right for a man to take another man's woman!” Montague said, as though he were preparing to pick up the fight where they had left off. Clara glared at him coldly.

“I can only assume that when you say ‘another man’s woman’ that you are referring to me?” She asked. Andrew Montague was silent. “Tell me, Mr. Montague, where were you when I arrived at the station?” Before he could answer a husky woman’s voice piped up from the end of the bar.

“He was at Madame Pussycats with me.” She said. Clara didn't need to ask what Madame Pussykats was. With a name like that there was only one thing that it might be and it was something that her sisters had warned her against on her journey out West. Clara nodded.

“Well, that would explain that, wouldn't it?” She asked. Then, closing the gap between her and Andrew Montague, she drew back her hand and slapped him just as hard as she could. His eyes widened and he stared at her, shocked. “Mr. Montague, I will have you know, that while I may have been promised to you in marriage, that offer no longer stands. James women do not, nor would they ever, tolerate such despicable behavior and utter disrespect.” She went to turn away, but before she did, she gave him one last piece of her mind. “That may be how you treat your women here in the West, but where I come from Mr. Montague, that is the surest way to meet the end of my daddy’s shotgun.” And with that she turned and walked straight back to her room.