The Ruination of Essie Sparks (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 2) (24 page)

Cade surveyed the thriving railhead town a half mile down the road. From here, they could just make out the sprawl of new cattle pens that lined the south side of the new Union Pacific tracks. With the north bank of the Yellowstone River at their feet and the towering, red rim rock of the Sacrifice Cliffs behind them, the mountains had given way to a sprawling valley that had become the hub of every bit of commerce in Montana Territory. Billings had earned the nickname Magic City because it had grown almost overnight once the railroad laid claim to that section of land, bypassing Coulson.

In a matter of two years, Billings had blossomed from a meager gathering of thrown-together tents he'd had the personal misfortune to occupy, into a genuine town, complete with two-story wooden buildings and nearly four thousand souls.

His mixed blood and his father's name had effectively saved him from reservation life, and he'd worked for the past few years in nearly every growing concern his father didn't own in these parts, including laying track for the Union Pacific and cutting timber in the mountains west of here. There was a fair to even chance he'd be recognized by someone from the Newcastle spread here, and the possibility settled over his skin like itchweed. He had no desire to see his father and the feeling was clearly mutual.

The lonesome whistle sounded from a train arriving from the East—probably St. Paul—frightening Cade's horse.

"Whoa," he soothed, keeping the exhausted animal from bucking.

Essie clung to him and managed not to fall. She was worn out and beyond anxious to be finished with riding, now that they were within sight of the town, and he couldn't blame her. He was near the end of his resources as well. They'd reached this place the long way around, not all that far now from where they'd begun.

The warm effects of their lovemaking and the hot water of the spring had dissipated hours ago on the ride down and both of them were shivering and wet through.

The cold dampness was like a knife in his bones after so many days of it and he longed for a warm fire to sit beside. And he wanted to share that fire with her. He wasn't ready to let her go. To say goodbye. He needed to say something and he hadn't yet found the words. But it was too late for such things now. They had both known it was coming to this.

He would not meet her in Billings as he'd told her he would and she seemed to know it. It would be far easier to make a clean break, knowing that Ollie would have her on a train by tomorrow morning, before anyone was the wiser. A new life. A new beginning. That's what she needed.

He threw his leg over Náhkohe's neck and slid off. With only one horse between them, she would take his into town and leave him with Ollie.

There were a dozen abandoned buildings here and most were showing signs of two years of neglect, with falling-down siding and holes in the roofs. To their right stood the empty Bender Bros. Livery, which had recently pulled up stakes and relocated to Magic City. If he was lucky, there might be somewhere to warm himself while he waited for Ollie to come with a change of clothes for him.

He held the horse's reins and watched Essie stare at the city's outskirts—with longing? Not that a woman like her belonged in a backwoods place like Billings, but at least she'd be among her own kind. Not attached to a man like him for her very survival.

"Remember what I said," he told her. "Keep to the side streets. Do not meet anyone's eyes. Ollie's place is near the stockyards halfway—"

"Down Missouri Avenue," she finished. "I know. I know the plan."

"You have the money I gave you?"

She nodded, patting a pocket in his shirt.

"I am not so sure this is a good idea," Essie said, breaking into his thoughts. "Leaving you here. How is your leg?"

"Fine. Nothing a good bed and some food won't fix." Hunger gnawed at his belly, as he was sure it did hers as well. They'd gone through the little bit Red Moon and his band could spare them.

"Besides, we agreed—" he began.

"I know. I know." She turned to regard the distant town, biting her lower lip. Her face, no longer smudged with trail dirt, gleamed in the moonlight. Her curls tangled in the cool evening wind blowing down off the mountains.

"See that my horse is well fed and has a place to rest. Ollie will see to that, too. The Headquarters is the best hotel in town. After Ollie's, if it's safe, get a room there for the night. Sleep. It's too late for Ollie to get me clothes tonight. Morning is soon enough. Have her bring Náhkohe back to me."

"But what about—"

"No more," he said, holding up one hand. "It is decided."

She sighed heavily. "
You've
decided."

"It's best for you."

"Or you," she contradicted.

He tightened his hand around the reins. Not him. Definitely not him. The idea of watching her ride off without him was like a knife in his gut. "Essie. It's already late."

She nodded again, staring off at the town up ahead. "What happened between us, back there..."

He reached up to take her fingers in his. "If anything... if I got you with child..."

She lifted her finger to her mouth to silence the question. "It was my choice. Remember that."

He would only remember that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And that he might have planted his child inside her. "But if you are—"

"I will be long gone from here. I wouldn't have you feel obligated to me because of a child. So think no more about it. Tomorrow, I'll take a train to somewhere far from here and we will never see each other again."

She leaned toward him and kissed him, lingering on his mouth for a moment longer than necessary. Then she said, "Goodbye, Cade. I'll never forget you." And with those words, she nudged his horse and started off.

"Essie Sparks!" he called before she'd gone far.

She pulled Náhkohe up and turned back to him, her expression hopeful and wary, the cool, chinook wind blowing her hair across her face.

"You are
vé'otsé'e
!" he called to her. "A warrior woman! Know that."

A wavering smile lifted one corner of her mouth. She nodded and kicked her horse and took off at a lope toward town.

He stood watching her for a long time, until she disappeared from sight, before turning back to the livery.

You're a fool. A damned fool for letting her go.

A woman like that comes along once in a lifetime
.
If a man's lucky.
Which, God knew, he was not. Nor did he deserve her. He'd done enough wrong in his life to know he'd never be the kind of man she should be with. But he couldn't stop imagining that she might, somehow, overlook all that was wrong with him, to see what his heart held.

"
I wouldn't have you feel obligated to me because of a child... Tomorrow, I'll take a train to somewhere far from here and we will never see each other again."

Yes, tomorrow she'd be gone and his choices along with her. She'd said nothing about her destination. Just something vague about somewhere warm.

Still, if somehow he survived this mess, maybe he'd find her. Maybe he'd never stop looking for her until he found her. And if he was wrong about their chances, maybe she'd even let him love her.

You
are
a fool, to even hope.

He turned and walked back toward the livery. Almost to the double doors, he caught a movement in the dark to his right, but before he could even react, the butt of a rifle slammed into his face with the force of a brick.

Pain exploded there in his cheek and he found himself suddenly sprawled on the ground, clutching at dirt.

Ohhh, hell.

Two dark shadows leaned over him, blocking the stars.

"You look surprised to see us, half-breed. You didn't think we'd give up that easy, did you?"

Stunned, Cade grabbed ineffectually at the ground, trying to roll to his knees.

A foot caught him dead center in his belly, lifting him off the ground and knocking the wind from him. He clutched his midsection and wheezed in a breath.

"That's for all the trouble you put us through, trying to catch you," Mitchell Laddner told him. "And this is for her."

The rifle butt came at him again and smashed into his head.

And the stars above him winked into utter darkness.

Chapter 15

The back door of the Lucky Diamond Sporting House opened at Essie's tentative knock and a modestly pretty young woman with dark hair and far too few clothes answered the door. In the background came the sound of a tinny piano playing "Buffalo Gal," and the hum of conversation and clinking whiskey glasses in the busy enterprise. The fragrance of perfume wafted out the door. Perfume and the smell of food. Real, warm food.

"Come back around eight if'n you want a biscuit," the girl said. "After the girls eat. Right, Pink?"

From behind her somewhere, a man grumbled, "That's it. Come back at eight. How many times I got t' tell you folks not to bother me 'til then?"

A biscuit?
Essie's mouth watered and her stomach growled, but she shook her head. "I-I didn't come for a biscuit."

"Well then?" the girl inquired, giving Essie's damp, disheveled appearance a once-over.

Essie cleared her throat. "I'm looking for Miss Warren. Ollie Warren?"

The woman tilted a patronizing look at her, scrunching her painted lips, like she'd heard that question a hundred times before. Maybe even before noon. "Sorry. If you're lookin' for work, Ollie ain't hirin'. An' for certain she ain't hirin' you."

"I'm not," she began, brushing the hair from her face, "looking for work. A friend of hers sent me."

The whore slapped a hand on her barely clad hip. "And just who would that be?"

"Look, could I please just speak to Miss Warren? It's very important."

"First off, nobody calls Ollie Miss Warren. 'Cause she'll slap you upside the head if you do. Second of all, unless I know your business, you can forget about seein' Ollie altogether."

Essie's expression flattened with stubbornness and not a little embarrassment that this... woman was looking at her as if she were no better than a rag-picker. Granted, her filthy petticoat was almost a decent brown color with mud and dirt and her hair was—

"Hey, Lucy!" some man shouted from another room behind the girl. "My lap is still waitin' for your sweet little ass!"

Lucy shouted back, "Hold your horses, Landon! I'm comin'!" She shook her head at Essie and began to close the door, but turned back to add, "Just a piece of advice, sweetie. We've all seen hard times. But there's a bathhouse just down the street. Two bits'll buy you a hot soak and a mostly clean towel to dry yourself off with. If I was you, that's where I'd begin."

"Wait!" Essie wedged her muddy moccasin in the door and pushed back. "Wait. I'm perfectly aware of how I look, and it's none of your business how I got that way. But I would appreciate it if you would tell
Ollie
that Mr. Newcastle sent me. With a
personal
message."

Some of the snide slid off her expression. "Newcastle junior or senior?"

"Junior," Essie answered, fairly certain she was right.

Lucy's brown eyes went wide and she studied her anew. "
You
know
Cade
?"

"Yes," she said, biting back the sting of knowing that Cade was on a first-name basis with this sporting girl. She glanced behind her, anxious to get in off the street before she was seen. There were wagons and pedestrians all over the place, even in the alley, but no one was paying her any mind. Yet.

"Well, in that case," Lucy said, "wait right there."

"Can I wait inside, please?"

Lucy glanced at the alley behind Essie, then reluctantly stepped aside to let her in. "Don't you move. I'll be right back. And I ain't makin' no promises."

Lucy disappeared into the next room and Essie rubbed her arms, peering around the kitchen. The man who'd spoken earlier, Pink, turned and eyed her suspiciously. Pink, a middle-aged man—as wiry and dark as a mahogany twig, but strong-looking—was standing over a pot of something on the stove. The delicious smell nearly made Essie faint from hunger on the spot.

There was definitely chicken involved, she divined, and herbs—sage and rosemary—
ohhh
!—and probably potatoes with onions, maybe some sweet carrots—