Acres, Natalie - Propositioned by Outlaws [Outlaws 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (11 page)

“I…I don’t know why, all right!”

“Yes you do,” Art said, closing the distance between them. Standing inches away from her, he looked her in the eye and said, “You gave Lane here something you’ve never given another man before. He made you into a woman, and now you think he belongs to you somehow. Well, he doesn’t and I don’t. You were just a poke, woman. That’s all you were. That’s all you’d ever be, whether we hang or not.”

The blood left her face and Lane turned away, unwilling to witness the pain Art caused her. Art apparently read his mind and saved him the trouble of breaking her heart. Now, he owed him.

With the marshal waiting outside, Lane didn’t think he’d ever have a chance to repay such a large favor.

Chapter Nine

Victoria
barely slept. She’d cried herself to sleep right before sunrise, but awoke a few hours later when she heard some riders in the distance.

The whooping and hollering alerted her to the obvious. There was a big celebration in town, and since the Saturday didn’t mark the date of a holiday, that could only mean one thing.

The town was preparing for a hanging.

Dragging herself out of bed,
Victoria
moped around the cabin. She stared at the dishes stacked on the edge of her chopping block and came undone. As she wept, she sat down in the chair Lane had occupied the night before, and cried all that much harder when she could’ve sworn she caught a whiff of that raw, masculine scent of his.

Convincing herself she was losing her mind, she ducked her head in the nook of her arm and sobbed. Why had she given herself to strangers? How come she’d never had those urges before? And why, out of all the travelers on the prairie, had she chosen two men doomed for death by hanging?

She rose from the chair and went to the porch, desperate to get some fresh air. As she sat down on the stoop, she caught a glimpse of the grey wolf in her peripheral vision and jumped, alarmed by the animal with its predatory gaze.

Victoria
glared at the beast. She didn’t move, and the animal hurried away. Darting between spruce tress, the wolf returned to the ridge overlooking the cabin. Within seconds, he paced the ground he’d apparently marked as his territory.

Watching him,
Victoria
thought of Lane’s words. They hummed in her ears like a tormented song.
That’s a bad trait for any man to own.
Lane didn’t kill for sport, he’d told her.
I’m a quiet man, Victoria. I like the simple things in life.

Would a man who liked the simple things in life rob a stagecoach guarded by five riders and two hired guns? She remembered the story about that heist. The buzz in town had been gruesome.

The men who took that gold were bandits. They wore bandanas over their mouths, and shot up that stagecoach before the men protecting the gold even knew what hit them. No one died, but they were all injured. Would a man who refused to kill a wild animal fire upon humans?

There had to be something
Victoria
could do. She marched inside and grabbed her mother’s rifle, the only gun her ma had ever owned. Slamming the cabin door behind her, she marched to the barn and grabbed a saddle and bridle in passing.

She couldn’t let Lane and Art die for something they didn’t do. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if they hung for a crime they didn’t commit.

Victoria
came to a stop then, considering Art’s parting words the night before. They’d used her. Art made the fact clear. Still, she didn’t want them to hang. She didn’t believe they were guilty. Then again, her ma never entertained anyone other than innocent travelers. Maybe she was as delusional as her mother.

Glaring at the stall where she lost her innocence, she cursed under her breath. “No,” she muttered. “It’s not possible.”

She hurriedly affixed the girth on the saddle and then bridled her mare, shoving the bit in the horse’s mouth. Glancing at the stall where she’d spent the early part of the evening before, she shook her head once more. She might have lost her virginity, but she wasn’t about to lose her heart. Nope. She didn’t have time for such nonsense.

Swinging her leg over the saddle, she mounted her horse and rode like hell out of that barn. As dust churned behind her,
Victoria
thought about the future she was about to lose. She considered all the ways she might be able to protect the men she now believed she was destined to love. No, hell no, she didn’t have time for such nonsense, but it didn’t hurt to daydream all the same.

That’s when her past caught up with her and her history became clearer. A few gallops down a broken path and her mind continued replaying past events. Reining in her horse, she came to a sudden halt, contemplating the direction her memory was taking her. Dear God, had she always ignored the truth that was right in front of her?

After her ma died, the marshal started riding out to check on her. He’d stop in every now and again to see if she was doing all right, particularly if Mrs. Dodson told him she hadn’t been in the General Store in a few days. It never occurred to her until right then why the marshal expressed an interest in her.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, kicking her horse with both heels. “We’ve got to hurry, Strawberry. Run faster, girl! Run faster! The marshal will help us. I just know he will!”

She hoped her arrival in
Cripple Creek
wouldn’t put her in town too late.

* * * *

“Art, look,” Lane said, tilting his head toward the barred window in their cell.

“Is that
Victoria
?” Art asked.

Waving her arm over her head as she rode closer, they could hear her. “Marshal! Marshal! You’re hanging the wrong men, and you know it!”

“Oh dear God,” the marshal said, rubbing his temples and rising from his old wooden desk.

“What is she up to?” Art asked.

Lane wondered as he watched
Victoria
leap off her horse, trip over her feet, and hurry toward the marshal’s office. As the only representative of law and order in town swung open the door,
Victoria
burst inside. Her face was flushed and stained with all sorts of debris.

“
Victoria
,” the marshal began, placing his hands in front of his body. “I don’t want you here. A hanging is no place for a woman.”

She narrowed her gaze and took a step backward. She slammed the door to the marshal’s office and locked it. “Sit down please, Marshal.”

“Look,
Victoria
. I did everything I could as a lawmaker. The facts will show these boys here robbed that stagecoach.”

“Facts, hell!”

“Victoria!” the marshal shouted. “I ain’t gonna listen to a lady talk like a whore.”

“Why? Because my mother was a whore?”

“That ain’t got a thing to do with it.”

“Yes it does.”

The marshal went pale and Lane paid closer attention. He jabbed Art in the ribs, and under his breath, he said, “This ought to be good.”

Victoria
smirked. She turned away from the marshal and addressed them. “The two of you didn’t rob that stagecoach. Want to know why I know?”

“Why,
Victoria
?” Art asked, probably just to appease her.

“Because of you, Lane,” she said pointing at him. “You know that wolf that followed you to my house?”

“Yeah. What about him?”

“He paid me a visit today.”

“Are you all right?” Lane asked, gripping the iron cell bars.

“I’m fine, Lane,” she replied. “Thanks for asking.”

“Oh boy,” he muttered. “She’s still pissed at us.”

“Pissed isn’t the word for it but I’ll deal with you later,” she said, turning back to the marshal. “And I will deal with them later because you’re gonna let them go.”

“Nope,” the marshal said, shaking his head. “They’ve been found guilty. Judge was in town working on some mining cases. He ruled on it this morning before he left for
Stockton
.”

“Then call him back,” she deadpanned. “Send a telegraph to the next town over.”

“
Victoria
, I can’t save your friends.”

Victoria
sat on the edge of his desk. She pushed her golden locks over her shoulders. “It sure is hot in here.”

“Then go on home where it’s cooler. Those shade trees should keep that cabin of yours cool this time of year. Let me worry about these two.”

Victoria
smiled as sweetly as she could probably manage.

“Remind me never to piss her off if I live to see another day,” Art said.

“Same here,” Lane muttered.

“You know a lot about those shade trees, don’t you, Marshal?”
Victoria
asked, studying her fingernails.

“Of course I do. I’ve been by your place a-plenty through the years.”

“Yes indeed you have,”
Victoria
said, crossing her left leg over her right. “I used to wonder how come you stopped coming out. When I turned about eight, I think it was. You just stopped coming. I wonder if your wife knows about me.”

The marshal went pale. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Are you my father?”

He gulped.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, pointing toward the cell. “Let them go, clear their name, tell everyone in town it was a terrible misunderstanding.”

“
Victoria
,” he snapped. “I can’t do that!”

She shrugged. “You married Caroline Sweeny, didn’t you?”

The marshal’s left eye twitched. “You know damn well who I married.”

“She’s a very nice lady,”
Victoria
drawled. “I’ve met her a few times myself. Lovely person. Just lovely.”

“Get to your point,
Victoria
.”

Victoria
slid away from the desk and stalked him. “You were no father to me. After ma died, you came around just enough to make sure you could lie down at night and convince yourself you were a good man, a man who occasionally stopped in to say hello to his only daughter.” A beat later she added, “Doesn’t the Sweeny family work with neglected kids back east?”

The marshal rubbed his forehead. He didn’t say either way, but
Victoria
knew they did. They were always placing kids with families there in
Cripple Creek
.

“You’re not a kid anymore. Caroline would understand why I’m not active in your life.”

“Would she?”
Victoria
asked. “I don’t think so. My mother was a whore. She took countless men to her bed—outlaws, farmers, Indians, and even marshals. Wonder if a fine, upstanding lady like Caroline would have the stomach for a man who took a whore to bed quite frequently?”

“Why would you hurt Caroline? She’s an innocent woman.”

“And you’re about to hang two innocent men. It’s called an eye for an eye. Considering the rumors in town about Caroline’s stability, I’d say that kind of rumor would be just enough to push sweet Caroline over the edge. What do you think?”

The marshal turned to Art and Lane. He looked at
Victoria
and stood a little taller than before. Lane thought he detected a little bit of pride in the man’s worrisome eyes but he couldn’t tell for sure.

Finally, the marshal grabbed the keys to the jail cell and said, “Did you rob that stagecoach or not?”

Lane shook his head. Art followed suit.

“Well then, I’ll send a telegraph to the judge.”

“It appears you don’t have a choice, Marshal,” Art said.

“On one condition,” the marshal added. “You two stay the hell away from my daughter.”

“You might as well go ahead and hang me,” Lane said. “Because I tell you about what’s gonna happen if you let me out of here.”

“What’s that?” the marshal asked, arching a brow.

“I’m probably gonna love her.”

Chapter Ten

Probably, hell
, Art thought as they rode back to
Victoria
’s place later that afternoon. The two of them had been making eyes at one another all the way home.

Home.

Fuck.
He was as hung up on the idea of a future with
Victoria
as Lane apparently had been. As the clopping of horse hooves came to a halt by a shaded area near the river, Art caught the end of a conversation bound to snap him out of his daydreams.

Lane said, “So what tipped you off to the marshal being your daddy?”

Victoria
slid away from the saddle, and Lane was there to catch her. She looked up at him and smiled. “I don’t know. Your wolf friend got me thinking. I knew you lied to me about robbing that stagecoach. After I thought about it awhile, I started beating myself up, thinking maybe it was my fault the marshal caught up with you before you had a chance to turn yourselves in.