The Badger City Gang [Bride Train 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

He waited until her eyes caught his, then he winked. Her full lips opened, showing sharp white teeth. A burn hit his belly and shot south. What would it feel like to have that mouth close around his cock? That was easy. It’d be better than anything he’d ever known. He smiled like Rusty did to catch the eye of a pretty woman. Her nostrils flared like an eager filly. His cock surged in response.

She didn’t know it yet, but she was his. Theirs.

Because she arrived late there was a gap between herself and the last bride in the line. It gave him a chance to give her a good look from her scuffed boots, hourglass figure, and up to her furious face.

Furious, or eager?

Maybe both. She stared back just as hard. This one had spirit, all right. His cock went as hard as the ass-worn bench under him. Once she went by he’d have to arrange his pants so they didn’t cut his swollen balls in two.

“Ma’am,” he said as she passed, lifting his hat. He gave her another quick wink.

“Sir.”

Her voice was nice and low. He fought the need to turn. She was going to the dining car to eat and would be passing back. He could wait to check out her ass.

“She’s prickly, that one,” said the old man by the window when the door closed behind her.

Zach turned. He thought the gaffer was asleep, but dark beady eyes met his.

“I like a woman with spirit,” said Zach. “Makes life more interesting.” He adjusted his pants and groaned in relief.

The reply was a cackle through missing teeth. “She’s got spirit, all right. Enough to keep your bed warm all winter. If I was you I’d grab her right quick.”

“I was just thinking on that.”

The old man leaned closer. “She takes a walk aside the tracks when we stop fer water and wood. Expect she’ll do it agin after dinner.”

“I could use a leg stretch after sittin’ all this time.”

She was the best of the lot. While he already knew she’d be leaving the train with him, a walk would let her get to know him a bit first. Uncle Peyton always changed his voice to make it harder to identify him. Zach would imitate Old Walt at his worst. Her reaction to his speech would show whether she was too stuck up to live with a rancher. He’d let her think on him all night.

Come morning, he’d be robbing the Bride Train.

* * * *

Katherine Mason refused to turn around on her return from dinner, but she knew the rude man stared at her back. While it was refreshing to be looked at with something closer to admiration than censure, she found the change a bit…disconcerting. Yes, that was the word. How else to explain the way her heart raced when she caught him watching her, or the way his eyes seemed to look through her clothing?

She took her seat on the hard wooden bench and fanned herself. If she was alone she’d open the windows and let in a breeze, but the others were too worried they’d get smoke and ash on their clothing. Silly fools, to wear a white blouse on a train journey. Not that she didn’t admire some of their dresses. She had one set of clothing to wear on the journey and when she finally removed it from her body she wanted to burn it. Unfortunately there was precious little in her carpetbag and she couldn’t waste anything.

The other women continued their unending chatter about fashion and other nonsense. They’d travelled for days, stopping at hundreds of small towns, yet they didn’t know, or care, about the land they were approaching. Not that she was any more knowledgeable. The only man she could properly ask was the conductor and steward in the dining car, and they didn’t live in the West.

That irritating man would know. The memory of his icy-blue eyes made her shiver in the heat. She’d never had a man look at her with such intensity. Her belly still quivered. The feeling was almost the same as when she leaned her hips against the railings between the carriages as the train chugged along. The tingle woke something dark and sinful between her legs.

Not just her legs. Her breasts swelled under his gaze, her nipples hardening against the confinement of her shift and blouse. She coughed, covering her mouth with her hand and scraping her arm against her breast. But instead of easing the almost itchy feeling, it made it stronger.

After an hour or so the train began to slow. Once they disembarked and the others rushed into whatever village or small town they’d stopped at, she could walk in peace. It was her one time to be alone with her thoughts, and she cherished it mightily.

It had taken a few days to convince the conductor that she was perfectly safe walking beside the tracks ahead of the locomotive. No one understood why she refused to go into town and meet the eager men wanting wives. But she was through with living in a small town full of vicious, biting gossip. She didn’t fit in and, now that she was free of a controlling father, she could do as she wished.

She would find a husband who would appreciate her for who and what she was. Unlike her mother, she would not be pushed into marriage. Unless a man accepted her as she was, an intelligent woman with many skills, she would remain single. Most of all, he had to agree not to force her into the small box required of “decent” women. She hadn’t met many men so wasn’t sure how to tell if one was lying, but she would trust her instincts.

Mother said there was only two times a man revealed his true character. One occurred when a woman pushed him into anger by challenging him. If he didn’t strike her even when furious, then she might be safe with him. The other involved a more personal challenge. As Katherine was a virgin, her mother didn’t explain details, but said that a man who accepted a woman’s intimate demands in bed would make marriage far more agreeable. A kind, poor man wishing to please his wife was a far better choice than a wealthy, cold man.

At the time, Katherine knew her mother referred to her husband. She’d not been given much of a choice. As she lay dying she told Katherine how she chose to lie with a man not her husband just before her wedding. She vowed it was the best hours of her life. She then did her duty and married Mr. Mason, a controlling man who loved to suck the joy out of every moment.

In almost her last breath she said Katherine was the result of that union. She begged her daughter to promise to go with her heart and choose love and joy.

It was an easy promise. Fathers and husbands held all the power in Eastern society, but this was the West. There were so few women available that the railroads provided carriages for Eastern women to find husbands. Unlike the East, men wanting a wife might not care if she wasn’t pure and untouched.

That meant Katherine could discover if a potential husband could be pushed without striking her, and if he’d provide the joy Mama said was possible between a man and a woman. Only then, if he accepted her need to be accepted as she was, would she marry.

How many men would she sample before she found the right one? Heat rose in her belly, curling tendrils of need to her breasts. Was this feeling what Mother meant by carnal desire? If so, she was eager for more.

Katherine wrenched open the top button of her blouse with ungloved fingers as she stomped away from the Bride Train. The other brides had, as usual, tittered from the train into another dusty town. Like all the others, it would be filled with women eager to see the latest fashions and men just as eager to see what was under them.

Her fury came partly from having to shake off two eager suitors, wasting time she could have used walking alone. Why did men insist she didn’t know her own mind?

She finally managed to open the tiny mother-of-pearl button. Her neck, free of scratchy lace, felt so much better that she undid the next two as well. She immediately groaned in relief. Her back was to the train so no one would see her indiscretion. The self-appointed keepers of virtue sharing the bridal carriage eagerly noted each of her faults. But once she left the train in Virginia City, she could do as she pleased.

The thought of indulging in something so wickedly wonderful made her heart race. Demanding passion in such a sinful manner, instead of meekly accepting a wife’s duty, would be the ultimate revenge against Father.

“And I’ll do it, Mama. I’ll be wild and free. Just like you could have been. I’ll take a lover and have him teach me everything.”

Just saying it out loud make her feel wicked and hot. Should she undo another few buttons?

An image came into her mind of a man’s fingers there rather than her own. Rough fingers, like those of the fellow who’d winked at her before dinner. The memory of the touch of his eyes heated her skin far more than the sun. She felt like her body was finally awake after years of fighting to keep everything inside, calm and placid.

She certainly wasn’t calm now! Parts of her twitched with a need she’d never known before today. Her damp drawers rasped her upper thighs as she walked. She’d gotten hot while walking before, but the heat now between her legs seemed to come from within.

Since she couldn’t do anything about it, she pulled at her bonnet strings and yanked it from her head. The breeze on her face helped cool her hot cheeks and burning ears. She slowed her steps, took a deep breath, and tipped her head to see the mountains ahead. Dark evergreen trees spread along the shoulders of the hills, interspersed with patches of brown, tan, and white. Her future lay there. One she would create.

“Yer walkin’ a long way from the train, ma’am.”

She whirled around, her heart contracting at the deep voice coming from behind her. She gasped and pressed her hand over her chest. He was a lot taller, and bigger, than she’d thought. His eyes dropped to her hand. She felt her breasts swelling under his gaze. His nostrils flared. He raised his eyes to meet hers and nodded, touching the brim of his hat with one long finger.

She bit her lip. Seeing him that morning had made her feel wicked. That was in the confines of the Bride Train where she was protected. There was nothing but a few feet of air between them now.

He was everything Eastern men were not. He had a wild, untrimmed beard and moustache. His dark hair, also untrimmed, hung to his shoulders. The suit was worn but clean. He wore a pistol on his right hip. She could see it because he’d pushed back his suit coat and hooked both thumbs in his belt, elbows out. His large boots were well scuffed. He was almost as tall as Father, but had far more muscle.

He lifted one hand and pushed his hat back. She saw appreciation in his light-colored eyes. One lip twitched, curling up in a hint of a smile.

Was he laughing at her indecision?

Furious at herself for hesitating, she whirled around and resumed her usual brisk pace as if he wasn’t there. But he was. She could feel his eyes on her back. No, not her back. Lower. New heat blossomed between her legs as if the sun shone brightly on that dark part of her. Her chest tightened, making breathing even more difficult. Her damp thighs rubbed against each other with every step. She should be mortified at how she was so aware of that hidden part of her. Instead, it made her wonder how to soothe her growing craving for…something.

His left sleeve brushed her right. Even greater heat flashed up her body at his nearness. This was the closest she’d gotten to a man other than Father since she was seventeen. While she’d passed through carriages full of men for every meal, it was in public. There was no one here to keep him from doing something wicked to her.

Or she to him, she suddenly thought.

“Sure ye don’t want me to see ya back to the train?”

She drew a breath as deep as she could within the confines of her snug blouse.

“Thank you for your concern,” she said politely. She continued walking as quickly as she could on the lumpy grass in her heavy skirts and old boots. “I’m quite safe, as we’re in full view of the conductor and engineer.”

He grunted, perhaps realizing he was warning her against himself. While her legs pumped, he strolled, taking one step for every two of hers. She stole a quick glance and immediately looked forward to hide her blush.

Her first glimpse of him on the train suggested he was handsome, but he looked even better up close. No, not handsome. “Rugged” was a better word. The tanned hands which swayed into view with every step showed a hard life, with calluses, nicks, and scars. He said nothing more, easily keeping pace with her.

The men she knew would have ordered her back to the train. They would be stunned if she refused. Father’s method would be to speak with an icy calm tinged with threat. Eastern suitors would take her elbow and force her to accompany them, sure she would not pull away.

Something told her this man would throw her over his shoulder and carry her, even kicking and screaming, wherever he wanted her to go. The thought should make her horrified but it heated her even more. What would it be like to have a man want her so much that he made such a public display of possession?

While she did not want a man to treat her as if she had no choice, the thought of him touching her made her shiver. Just being near him did delicious things to her body. Never before had her breasts swelled, or her nipples tightened in the heat. There was also a heavy feeling between her legs which made her want to rub herself there.

He made no move to touch her, or to speak. What did he want? Was he only there to protect her, wishing nothing more than her company for a few minutes? She straightened her spine and inhaled deeply.

The air was hot and dry with little scent. Ahead was a low rock wall, the perfect place to rest for a moment before heading back. She took a few steps toward it. He suddenly growled and scooped her up. He pressed her body against his left hip, twisting her away from the rocks. Snug against his heat, she fought for breath. She heard him pull his gun and cock it.

“Don’t move,” he said quietly in her ear.

She didn’t scream, mostly because his arm held her so tight she could barely breathe. When she could inhale, she caught the scent of strong soap, leather, and horse. Then she heard the slight sound of a rattle.

Katherine Mason, wild-spirited adventuress, was suddenly very glad to be held and protected by a large man with a gun. She couldn’t see the rattlesnake because her head was jammed against his chest. Her legs dangled either side of his hip, pressing the junction of her thighs against his body. A deep, hot, throb began, radiating from the point of contact. They waited, unmoving.