Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (27 page)

He found himself bent over her back, gasping for breath.

“My turn to help the lady,” said Byron.

Cole backed away, almost staggering. Byron flipped Casey onto her back. She lazily opened her eyes. She smiled.

“More?”

Byron chuckled and filled her with one thrust. He bent over, playing with her nipples for a moment. Then he kissed her. Cole watched, amazed. It was as if the two of them fought to devour each other. When Casey fell back, panting hard, her lips were as swollen as her pussy.

“Now that’s a kiss.” She gasped the words between breaths.

“Looks like I need a few lessons,” said Cole.

“You kiss good, but different,” said Casey. She looked at Cole’s cock, still half-erect. “All three of you have something special.”

“You ready for my specialty?” asked Byron. He didn’t wait for an answer.

Cole left them to it. His head buzzed and he needed to sit before he fell over. He’d damn well miss Casey while she stayed at the hotel with Sophie, but he had to know she was safe. A group of men camping out on Rivers’ land was bad news.

There was no way in hell that he’d let her get within a dozen miles of rough men. It didn’t matter that she’d taken care of herself for her first twenty-one years. She belonged to him now, as well as Byron and that rascal Marshall. They would be the ones to protect their woman.

A high feminine scream was quickly followed by a coarse grunting of release. God, he hoped he didn’t sound as bad as that. His cock twitched, rising for another round.

Instead of taking its lead he dressed and headed to the barn to get the wagon ready. Casey would be needing to bring a few dresses and such to stay at the hotel. He wanted their wife to look and feel good when she was in town. With luck she’d be back in a day or two.

They’d get up a posse, roust those men out, and pass the word that even with half the ranchers moving cattle, they could take care of their own. He wouldn’t think of anything going wrong with that scenario.

Casey looked around the mercantile for Molly. She’d come in the back door, still not used to being accepted. But instead of the young woman a marmalade cat trotted toward her from behind the pickle barrel. It swished around Casey’s skirt, making a rusty meow sound. She bent over and scratched its chin. It bumped her leg, demanding more. She laughed and knelt to pat it. Purring filled ear ears. So did the unmistakable sound of kisses.

“Molly?”

A high-pitched squeak and scramble followed. Molly came out from behind the winter coat display. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and her lips swollen. Casey craned her head but Molly took her arm and pulled her to the front of the store.

“Please don’t tell the Tanners about that,” she whispered.

“Only if you tell me who you were kissing.”

Molly flushed even pinker. “Ulysses,” she whispered. “Ulysses Tanner. He came out here to take over his great-uncle’s store so Patsy and John could slow down.” She looked around to make sure no one was near. “He’s going to ask Doc to marry me.”

Casey pointed to Molly’s dress. “You missed a buttonhole.” Molly looked down, noticed the misalignment, and scrambled to fix it. “Or maybe Ulysses missed it.” The blush deepened.

A young man appeared behind Molly. He was about five inches taller than Molly, and skinny. Light brown hair, neatly trimmed, with a moustache to match. His face was as red as hers. They looked at each other. Casey felt that if she stepped away for a second they’d be kissing again. It made her own blood heat and her pussy throb.

“Is there anything I may help you with, Mrs. Taylor?”

His voice suited his body, thin and far weaker than Casey’s husbands. But Molly looked like he could hang the moon for her.

“I’m sure Molly can help me set up an account, Mr. Tanner.”

His eyes shifted to Molly. He smiled and almost looked handsome. “I’d best ask Doctor and Mrs. Henley before Doc gets hauled out of town again.” He nodded politely at Casey. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Molly watched him walk to the back of the store. She sighed, smiling as if no one else existed. Casey had heard Molly’s story. She’d seen some bad things in her life, but nothing like what Molly and Sarah had gone through. After the wonderful nights Casey had spent with her men the thought of a stranger touching her made her skin crawl.

“You want a separate account so you can buy things your husbands don’t know about? That’s what some of the other wives do,” said Molly, suddenly all business. She opened the black ledger on the counter. “After all, how can you buy them a present if they have to approve every purchase? How much did Cole say to move into your account?”

“It’s not Sweetwater Ranch money but my own. I got ten dollars for shooting Mr. Rivers. Ben Elliott is holding it for me.”

“Ten dollars it is,” said Molly. She flipped to a new page and carefully wrote “Casey Taylor” at the top. She left it open to dry and lifted her eyes. “Anything you’d like to get right away?”

Casey looked around the shop. She’d only peeked in the window before, or carried wrapped parcels to waiting carriages in return for a penny or two. There was almost everything in the world here. Coats and boots, ribbons and lace, coffee and—

“I’d like to buy some tea, please.”

Molly led her to the black metal case, painted in gold. Casey looked closely. Three different types of tea were displayed, each with a different scene on the front. The first showed a woman picking what must be tea leaves. A small child towed a tall, wheeled basket filled with leaves. It was labeled “oolong.” The second picture showed two women dancing with fans, or perhaps they were fanning the leaves. It didn’t have a label. The third showed a kneeling woman making tea. It was labeled “gunpowder.”

“That tea is mixed with gunpowder?”

Molly smiled at Casey’s question. “No, that’s just the name. It’s called that because the leaves are rolled in a ball. What type of tea do you like?”

She’d had only drunk tea twice, both times in the hotel kitchen. “I don’t know. Sophie just called it tea.”

“Why don’t I give you a twist of each to try?”

Casey carried her twists of brown paper, each carefully labeled, back to the hotel. Byron had carried her bags up to a single room, kissed her thoroughly, then left her with orders not to stray or get into trouble. Of course, she had to do something to show him she was not a child, so had gone to the mercantile. The only other place she could have gone was Nora Dawes’s dress and millinery shop, but that would require help from someone who knew about such things.

She was only getting used to wearing dresses and had no idea how to choose one. And hats were even worse! Her old black one had kept off the hot sun and rain, hid her face, and was good for swatting dust off her clothes. She was ready to ask Sophie if she could peel potatoes or something, just so she wasn’t alone, when a knock came at the door.

“Lily and the judge are back from Helena,” said Sophie. “She has news about what’s going on. We’re invited to visit for a cup of tea.”

Casey swallowed. Visit the elegant lady who’d given her the bronze wedding dress? She looked down. Her blue dress was clean and neat, but nothing special.

“Don’t worry about what you look like,” said Sophie with a smile. “It’s just us women.” She looked down the corridor and lowered her voice. “We’re the ones who really know what’s going on. We only tell the men what they need to know.”

Casey joined Sophie in a conspiratorial smile. “Cole said I’d be in the way of the posse. I want to know what’s really going on.”

“Welcome to the sisterhood.”

* * * *

“They were here, but not for long,” said Owen Barstow.

The sheriff pointed to the tracks that had shuffled at the back door. Byron was the most observant of the three of them so he’d gone with the small posse. Henry Bennett and Nevin MacDougal rounded out the group. Nevin dismounted and checked the tracks.

“None I recognize for sure,” he said. He leaned his head close to the ground and looked at one sideways. “This one has a cut heel. Sheldrake had a pair of boots like that, but so could others.”

Byron dismounted once Nevin finished. After carefully inspecting the porch he climbed the steps. His boots echoed as he crossed to the window. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked in the kitchen.

“No traps that I can see.” He went to the door then turned. “You mind?” he asked the others.

“Be my guest,” said Barstow. “It’s your woman these hombres might be after.”

Keeping his body to the side, Byron turned the handle and pushed the door open. Hinges creaked in the still air. He stepped through and looked. A cast-iron stove squatted in the center of the room. If there’d been any pots and pans, someone had rousted them. There was nothing in the room other than a rusty chain lying under the stove. Byron bent to take a closer look. One end was hooked to the stove. He picked up the length of chain to find the other end. It had a shackle, just the right size for a slender female ankle.

“Goddamn!”

He slammed the chain down. Nevin whirled around at the noise, saw there was no danger, and relaxed. Byron rose to his feet. The others looked at him, questions in their eyes. But he was not going to give up Casey’s secrets. Her father had done this to her mother. It would have been done to Casey as well if that Death Bride fear hadn’t protected her. Finding this was exactly why he and Cole didn’t want Casey with them.

“There’s a shackle at one end,” said Byron, spitting the words in his fury.

“That’s how Rivers kept Grace from running away,” said Henry mildly. “Meant to bring something to knock it free but never got around to it.”

“I’ll come back and take care of it once this is over,” said Byron.

Henry and Barstow nodded at him. Nevin’s eyes said he knew there was more to the story but he wasn’t asking. Byron didn’t know the man well. He had deep claw marks across his chest from surviving a black bear attack as a boy. A grandson of the Bannock Chief and son of the chief of the MacDougal Clan, Nevin was no weakling.

“Well, there’s nothing here for us now,” said Barstow. He hitched up his pants and led the way outside. “These boys ain’t fit to shoot at when you want to unload and clean your gun. They’ll be holed up somewhere with grub and water. Like rats they’ll show up sometime, ready to gnaw on whatever they can find.”

Byron rode silently back to town with the men. Where were the men? Were they after Casey? At least she was safe at the hotel, blissfully ignorant of his worries.

* * * *

“I fired Maurice Lumley,” said Sophie to Lily. “Jennet is furious, which proves to me that Lumley was spying and passing things on.” She shivered. “I wish he’d leave town.”

Casey knew Sophie well, but the other two she’d only heard about. Lily Thatcher had once been the madam of the best-known gentlemen’s clubs in the west, operated out of the very house they shared their tea in. Rosa Henley had survived years of brutal rape as a slave of the Comancheros until Lily bought her and set her free. Everyone was shocked and happy when Rosa married Doc, sharing the ceremony with Lily and Judge Thatcher. Victoria and Jed Adams also married that day, for the second time.

“Do you have news, Rosa?” Lily sipped her tea, looking over the cup at her longtime cook and friend.

Rosa’s teacup rattled in its saucer. She put it down hastily. Twin spots of color appeared on her cheeks. Her hand came to rest on her lower belly.

“Oh, my dear!” Lily hurriedly put her teacup down, rushed over, and hugged Rosa as if they were sisters. “When?”

“George says it’s too early yet to tell if all will go well,” whispered Rosa. Rosa was the only one who called George Henley anything other than Doc. “But we’re hoping for the spring.”

Her smile, both worried and joyful, was the first Casey had ever seen on Rosa’s face. She was known as being gruff, avoiding all men like the plague. Sophie pulled Rosa to her feet and wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll pray for you and Doc every day,” said Sophie gently.

Having only a hint of an idea what Rosa had gone through, Casey admired her for being able to marry, much less do what was required to have a baby. Casey’s eyes were just as wet as the other women.

“Enough of tea, shall we celebrate with blackcurrant cordial?” asked Lily.

“George said it’s best to avoid spirits,” said Rosa.

“We can celebrate with tea just as easily,” said Lily and raised her cup. “To springtime babies!” She brought her eyes to Casey and winked.

Casey barely managed to swallow before coughing. Sophie caught the reason why and laughed.

“Doc is going to be very busy with babies next spring,” said Sophie.

Lily patted Sophie’s hand. “Don’t you worry. I think there’s a young man in your future.” This time it was Sophie who turned pink. “Oh, do tell,” said Lily with delight. “Remember, one secret each.”

“You tell yours first,” said Sophie.

Lily shook her head. “Age has its advantages.”

“In that case, Casey should go first,” said Sophie.

All three women looked at her. She took a deep breath, held herself like Mama showed her, and lifted her chin. “I thought it was just Willy and me, but we have a grandmother, Cassandra Fenton Barkley. She’s my mama’s mother.”

“I knew there was more to you, girl,” said Lily. “I told the judge that you needed to be well married to those Southern boys. I’m pleased they smartened up and realized what was before their eyes. I don’t doubt you’ll be holding a baby of your own this time next year.”

“Sophie?” Lily arched her delicate eyebrow.

Twin spots appeared on Sophie’s cheeks. “I have taken a fancy to Mr. Gibson,” she said formally.

“The Pinkerton agent?”

Sophie nodded.

“And what does he think about you, my dear?”

“Sheriff Barstow said Mr. Gibson couldn’t understand why I’m not married if I can cook so well. Not that he’s interested in a wife,” she added. “Pinkerton agents can’t be tied down.” Her blush deepened. “But I don’t want to marry him. I want to try some of what Beth and the other valley wives have boasted about. I’m twenty-six, been married and widowed, and I’ve never had an orgasm.”