Authors: Barbara Bretton
"That's true enough," said Caroline, "but I wonder why you aren't incensed that these men have taken your home from you and tossed your belongings onto the street? Does it not infuriate you to be treated as if you are nothing but stray cats to be kicked out when the master comes home?"
"Don't do no good gettin' mad," said Margaret McGuigan with an eloquent shrug, "because we don't want no enemies. Meanin' no disrespect, but we ain't like you, Caroline. We're lookin' to find us husbands and have us some babies; livin' alone in a saloon ain't want brought us west."
"This is my home," Caroline said, her voice rising with passion. "My father died over this godforsaken place. It's all I have to my name and I will be damned to hell for all eternity if I allowed Jesse Reardon to take what I own."
"Seems to me these men be used to takin' whatever they want," observed Abby. "If the League can throw these poor girls out of the boarding house, seems to me they could do just about anything at all."
"This is my property and nobody is going to take it from me and I have a mind to march over to the King of Hearts and tell them so."
"There'd be an awful lot of them, Miss Caroline," said Abby, "all full of whiskey and gunpowder. I wouldn't be thinkin' it's a good idea to beard the lion in his own den."
"No poorly-educated cowboy is going to take what's mine." She turned to the other girls who were watching her, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do, ladies, sit here sobbing into your hankies over their foolish notions on bachelorhood and marriage? Where is your backbone? Your spunk?" She paced the room, fueled by righteous indignation. "Have you come west to sit like china dolls, waiting for a man to set you on his mantelpiece or will you grab opportunity by the boot straps and prove to those beknighted ruffians that you are willing to wait until real men come to town?"
Jenny Wilder swallowed hard and rose to her feet. "I say we wait until real men come to town!" She looked down at her sister. "Are you with me, Sarah?"
Sarah's cheeks flushed a bright red to match her hair. "I'm with you," she said, standing up. "I didn't come this far to turn around with my tail tucked between my legs."
Margaret McGuigan and her three sisters joined them and Caroline held her breath as the Dennehys, Watsons, and Olsens whispered among themselves.
"Your one chance for independence," Caroline said, shamelessly stacking the deck in her own favor. "Who else in town offers you good food, good company, and good clean beds for a reasonable price?"
One by one the spinsters rose to their feet. "We're with you," said Lulu Olsen, "though, saints alive, I don't reckon I understand exactly why."
Caroline squeezed the girl's hand. "You will," she said, heart racing with excitement. "I promise you, you will."
Abby made a rude sound of displeasure. "And when you understand it," muttered the young maid, "be sure and explain it to me."
"Now come on," said Caroline, heading toward the door. "Let's go to the King of Hearts and tell those men that their precious Single Man's Protective League will find no problem with us. They can take their bachelorhood and clutch it to their bosoms because we intend to hold out for something better."
What that something better was, she didn't know, and she prayed she'd come up with an answer by the time the girls got around to asking.
Jesse puffed on his cigar later that evening as he strode through the crowd crammed into the basement of the Golden Dragon. Had to hand it to Sam for being right. Markham had come round to his suite on the third floor and said the League was holding an emergency meeting and Jesse should come down pronto if he was smart.
"Ain't seen so many men in here since Jade ran her two-fer-one sale last winter," he said to his bartender who was following right behind him.
Sam corralled them two chairs near the side door. "They was smilin' last winter. Don't see too many smiles 'round here tonight."
Jesse had to admit that was true enough. He also had to admit that most of the ugly looks were aimed in his direction.
"Somebody die since dinnertime?" he asked the room in general.
"Only everything any decent man holds sacred," Big Red Morgan bellowed from the back of the basement. "First they came to town marryin' up every prospector they could lay their lily-white hands on. Then they took over the Crazy Arrow but I'm here to tell you those she-cats have gone too far when they show up at the King of Hearts!"
Jesse glared across the crowd at Morgan. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
The red-faced man spat a stream of tobacco juice into a brass cuspidor. "While Jade was upstairs entertainin' you, that damn Easterner's daughter busted into the saloon with a whole passel of old maids right behind her."
A laugh rumbled through Jesse's chest. "Didn't hear a damn thing. Gotta hand it to Jade: when she entertains a man, he ain't payin' much attention to anything else."
"You ain't listenin' real careful, Jesse," Big Red said. "Ain't the Golden Dragon they busted in on."
A weird sensation crept up Jesse's spine. "Worst thing I ever seen in all my born days," said Three Toe Taylor. "Gals swarmin' like honeybees all over the King of Hearts."
Jesse's right hand hovered over his gun. "If you're stringing a whizzer on me, you'll live to regret it."
Taylor didn't back down an inch. "Shoot me full of holes if you want, but I ain't lyin'. Ask any man here and he'll tell you the same thing. Stormed right into the playin' parlor and burned our ears."
"Gal's got herself a real mean tongue," said Big Red Morgan. "Feel sorry for any man she hooks herself up with."
"You lost yourself some ground today, Jesse," said Three Toe with a challenging look. "First you let that gal lay claim to the Crazy Arrow and now she's bustin' into the King of Hearts, actin' like she owns the town."
Rage boiled through Jesse's gut; he wanted to wrap his fingers around Caroline Bennett's elegant throat and strangle her for this damn fool stunt. If she was trying to make him the laughingstock of Silver Spur, she was halfway there.
"Pay her no mind," he said, casually lighting a cigar as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Old maids tend to act real strange sometimes."
Three Toe Taylor took a step toward Jesse. "We think it's you who's actin' strange, Reardon."
"You're on mighty dangerous territory. I'd be real careful what I say, if I were you."
"Look at you, Jesse," Big Red Morgan broke in. "You don't pull your share with the League. You didn't open the Rayburn mine like you said you was gonna do. You let the Crazy Arrow stay shuttered up then you hand it over to a woman who's aimin' to turn it into a sewing circle. Hell, maybe you ain't one of us anymore and it's about time we found that out."
"All this because some man-hungry filly breaks up a poker game? Sad, fellas," he said with a shake of his head. "Real sad."
"She don't want a man," said Big Red. "None of 'em want a man anymore. That's what they came by to tell us."
"Then what in hell's so all-fired wrong? The League won." He headed toward the door. "Come on back to the King of Hearts to celebrate, gentlemen. The whiskey's on the house."
Nobody moved. Not even his own bartender.
"I don't think you heard me: the whiskey's on the house."
Nothing. The only sound in the huge basement was the sound of his heart beating fast in anger.
"It ain't enough," said Sam Markham for Jesse's ears alone. "They want more out of you than free tonsil varnish."
Sam was right but Jesse hadn't wanted to see it. The town was changing all around them and they were looking to Jesse to be the rock they clung to. Silver Spur might seem lawless and wild to an outsider, but an unspoken bond held it together and that bond was Jesse Reardon. And what nobody in that room knew was that Jesse Reardon needed them just as much as they needed him.
He turned and headed for the door.
"Where you goin', Jesse?" Big Red yelled out. "What the hell are you up to?"
"Business," said Jesse, tossing his cigar into a cuspidor and listening to it hiss. "I got me some business that needs tendin' bad."
#
Caroline's raid upon the King of Hearts Saloon had been a resounding success. How she'd enjoyed the looks of shocked horror on the faces of the men as she'd led the girls into their secret gaming room and told them in no uncertain terms that their Single Man's Protective League was now unnecessary, for the unmarried women of Silver Spur were happy to stay that way—at least for the time being.
Her only regret was that Jesse Reardon himself wasn't there to witness her triumph as she led her loyal supporters out of the smoke-filled saloon and back to the safety and tranquility of her very own Crazy Arrow.
Assigning bedrooms, finding linens, and tending to the tears of the Crazy Arrow's newest residents lasted until quite late and Caroline was exhausted by the time she said goodnight to Abby and climbed into her feather bed. How marvelous it felt to do nothing but breathe in and breathe out, to hear nothing but the slow and steady pounding of her own heart, to let her weary muscles sink into the mattress as she closed her eyes and welcomed sweet oblivion.
She was hovering on the edge of sleep when she heard the sound of wood splintering from somewhere downstairs. Abby, she thought sleepily as she buried her face more deeply into her pillow. It was only Abby stumbling over the collection of trunks and hat boxes that had accompanied their new arrivals.
Once again she drifted toward sleep and once again a thunderous noise made her sit bolt upright in her bed, hand pressed tight over her galloping heart. Dear Lord, it sounded as if an army were marching through the hallway. If this was what being a hotelier entailed, she would have to consider a pair of earmuffs.
"Son of a bitch!" Her bedroom door swung open and banged against the wall. Jesse Reardon, tall and lean and angry, strode into her room. "Where the hell's the lights? A body could break a leg in this damned place."
Caroline grabbed for the quilt and clutched it to her bosom. "How dare you march into my bedroom like this. I'll have you arrested!" Reardon ignored her and strode toward the bed. "Get up."
"I will not!"
"Now, Car-o-line," he growled.
"Never," she said, her voice an odd mix of both fear and fury. "This is my house and you have no dominion over me here, Mr. Reardon."
"Ten seconds, then I'm tossin' you out on your pretty fanny. Ten...nine..."
"You're mad!" She pulled the quilt more tightly about her body. "You're—"
"...eight...seven...six..." He grabbed one edge of the quilt between tanned fingers. "...five...four..."
Her heart thundered in her ears and beat wildly at the base of her throat. "Touch me once and I swear I shall—"
"...three..."
"Mr. Reardon, I beg you to reconsider!"
"...two..."
"You wouldn't!" Her voice was a pitiful squeak. "I don't—"
"...one." With one sharp movement he stripped her of the faded blue quilt and flung it across the room, leaving her naked except for her thin white lawn nightdress. "Can't say I didn't warn you, Car-o-line."
She dived under the bed linens, dignity be damned. "You have no decency, Mr. Reardon! How dare you violate the privacy of my room this way."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and she shifted her position to keep from rolling toward him. Peeking out from under the shelter of the top sheet, she saw him bending forward.
"And what do you think you're doing?" she asked.
A leather-tooled boot hit the floor with a thud. "Gettin' ready for bed." The second boot followed right behind.
"Put those boots back on and leave this minute!"
"Remember that story I told you about the mayor's wife?" He glanced at her over his shoulder and began to unbutton his fancy white shirt. "Don't think you'd want no spurs cuttin' up your sheets now, would you, Car-o-line?"
"You're not climbing into this bed, Mr. Reardon."
He tossed his shirt over a straight-back chair in the corner of the room. "The hell I'm not. I worked hard today and I'm gonna get me a good night's sleep."
"Sleep in your own bed." Or Jade's. "You're certainly not welcome in mine."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said, rising from the bed and facing her across the wide expanse of mattress. "This ain't your bed. It belongs to me."
She gathered the top sheet around her, making certain her bosom was well-shielded from his eyes. Not that he seemed to be paying a great deal of attention to her dishabille. Strangely enough, Reardon seemed more interested in getting ready for bed.
"If you are trying to make a point about ownership, you may as well stop now, Mr. Reardon, for the fact remains that I hold the deed to the Crazy Arrow."
His hands went to the button-front opening of his tight-fitting trousers. To her horror, his fingers quickly undid the top two buttons and the pants fell open to expose his taut waist and navel.