Acres, Natalie - Propositioned by Outlaws [Outlaws 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (13 page)

“That leaves dumb then,” he said, his laughter quickly joined by group support.

Victoria
stared at the idiot in front of her. “I heard your friend, but a lady never tells a stranger where she lives.”

“No, but a tramp does, and ain’t that what you are?” the old guy asked. “I seem to remember your mammy giving her share of rides, too.” He looked at Art, and then shifted his gaze toward Lane. The rage had settled in their eyes. They were surrounded, and knew better than to pick a fight when the battle was already clearly won.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my dead ma like she didn’t matter,”
Victoria
said, dropping her hands away from her body. They’d already watched her fuck. They’d seen her ass, gawked at her breasts. What did she have to hide anyway?

“Your mamma is dead?” the older man asked, a flash of sincerity in his eyes. “Well that is a blessed shame.”

“Died a while back, yes she did,”
Victoria
said, hoping she could keep the elderly fellow talking.

The old guy turned on Art and Lane. “And you two came in and took advantage of an old whore’s daughter while the gettin’ was good, I imagine. Don’t count yourselves lucky. Her momma fucked anything that walked, screwed some of ’em who couldn’t walk much after they got enough of her.”

“
Victoria
has heard plenty from you,” Lane warned, his eyes flashing with dangerous fury.

The man next to
Victoria
grabbed her around the waist and held her body securely against his. “What do you say, little lady. Wanna see how many dicks can fit in that pussy?”

She locked eyes with Art. He was pale, but far from out of it. He was contemplating their next move. He was a thinker. Until that moment,
Victoria
wouldn’t have guessed.

“Let her go,” Art said, hardly stern enough to sound like a man ready to negotiate.

“Or you’ll what?” the rogue asked, dipping his head and kissing her neck.

Victoria
didn’t squirm under his lips. She refused to give him the pleasure. If she resisted him, he’d find more excitement in her body than she wanted him to have, and since she was naked, he wouldn’t struggle for access.

A gun cocked in the distance. “Back away from the girl.”

Victoria
looked over the old man’s shoulder. There, on horseback was the marshal and his men, a few fellows who rode alongside him when posses formed.

“And who are you?” the ringleader asked, shoving
Victoria
to the wayside.

“You see this badge, don’t ’cha?”

“Are you the marshal in this town, or just riding through on your way to the next one?” another fellow asked.

“It shouldn’t matter to you either way. But if it does, I’ll tell you the only thing that really matters in the first place. I’m the girl’s father. If you don’t back away from her, I’ll blow your balls off and send them home to your mother. Ask me if I’m kiddin’.”

Another five guns cocked. The pistols pointed were all aimed in the direction to drive home a solid point.

The tall man hissed as he stepped over her. “This ain’t over, sugar.”

The marshal hopped down off his horse and pulled out a wanted poster. He studied the paper in his hand and then ripped it to shreds. “All right, boys. Let’s take ’em in. I believe we’ve just caught the men responsible for robbing that stagecoach this time last year.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” the outlaw leader asked, resisting the marshal when he grabbed him by the arm.

“You said it wasn’t over. I believe you. It ain’t over. You picked the wrong place to stop and water your horses. You damn sure picked the wrong girl to grope.”

Chapter Twelve

They rode home with nary a word exchanged between them.
Victoria
was tired, but her need for silence had more to do with the thoughts of her father than her exhaustion.

The marshal came to her rescue, but more than saving her, he’d publicly declared she was his daughter. He’d made the confession in front of men he knew well. Bounty hunters he respected. Cowboys she recognized.

Victoria
wondered if his proclamation meant he’d come to accept he’d fathered a child with a whore.
Victoria
was a grown woman now, but she still longed for a connection with her father, someone she could call out as family. Would the marshal be there for her when she needed him? Would he invite her into his home and make her feel welcome?

Victoria
felt a smile tug at her lips. Hadn’t he been there for her in the past? Perhaps he hadn’t told her who he was or why he felt compelled to drop in on her from time to time, but nonetheless, he’d made the effort. He evidently cared enough to check in, and when push came to shove, he stepped in and saved the day, or at least…her friends.

She considered Lane and Art as she slid away from her mare once they came to a halt in front of her cabin. Regardless of the relations between them, she enjoyed their company, and hoped they wouldn’t leave her after they’d shared so much together.

Lane caught her as she dismounted. Taking her horse’s reins out of her hands, he said, “We’ll be right outside.”

She offered them a weak smile. Art clasped her hand in his and squeezed her fingers in passing.

“You don’t have to sleep in the barn you know,” Victoria called after them.

They kept walking.

“I could fix you some dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”

They still kept walking.

Uncertain of what she might have done to make them feel they needed to put some distance between them, she marched up the front steps and entered her dark, lonely cabin. Picking up the lantern, she removed the glass globe, lit the wick, and replaced the cover. As soon as the place was aglow, she gasped. “What are you doing in here?”

Dressed in nice trousers, a white shirt, and fancy suspenders, a man
Victoria
didn’t recognize rose from her table. “Ms. Page, do you know who I am?”

With movement behind her, she turned. A large brute with broad shoulders and ragged clothes stepped forward. She shifted her focus to the gentleman standing next to her small table. She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen either of you before.”

“That’s right. You haven’t,” he drawled, his Southern accent thicker than any she’d ever heard.

“My name is Max Carpenter.”

She gulped.

“My name must ring a bell.”

She shook her head in denial.

“Well, let me refresh your memory.” He took a few steps and stood mere inches from her face. “You are harboring—screwing—two men accused of stealing my gold.” A beat later, he said, “Now does the name mean anything to you?”

She shook her head again.

Max waved his finger toward the man behind
Victoria
. He immediately yanked
Victoria
’s arms behind her back, securing her wrists with his large, calloused hands.

“Ouch!” She squirmed and wiggled but was unable to break free. “You’re hurting me!”

“Ms. Page, as you can imagine, I’m not a very happy man.”

“There’s a doctor in town. If you want something to take away your misery, I suggest you consult him for a dose of happy pills. I don’t have an antidote for discontentment.”

“You’re a funny girl, aren’t you, love?”

She continued to fight for freedom, but her efforts were in vain. Giving up the struggle, she glared straight ahead, not necessarily looking at Max, but hardly avoiding him altogether.

“She’s ready to play nice, boss,” the whale of a man said.

Max smirked. “Ms. Page, I would’ve been a tremendously wealthy man if your boys hadn’t taken what belongs to me. They were supposed to hang for their crimes, but I guess things worked out for the best this way.

“You saved their asses and now, I can take out what they owe me by using yours.” He unhooked his belt and snapped the leather as he removed the strap. “Bend her over.”

Victoria
shook violently. “Please, you can’t do this.”

“Actually, I can. See, if I’m as well informed as I believe I am, this cabin here has quite the reputation. Your mother used to run men through here faster than my father once drove cattle across the open range. After what some of my boys—you know the ones you sent to jail earlier today—saw, it appears the fruit is just as loose and well-matured as the tree.”

“Art and Lane didn’t take your gold, mister. They didn’t!”

“I said bend her over, and I won’t ask again!” he shouted, addressing the hard outlaw securing her.

“No! You have to listen to me!” she wailed. “Art and Lane wouldn’t steal from you. Don’t you understand? The marshal arrested several men down by the river today. They’re awaiting trial. Believe me! Listen to what I’m telling you!”

He snapped the leather belt again. Approaching her, he tilted her chin upward and stared into her eyes. “I don’t give a damn who took the gold, if you want to know the truth, Ms. Page. The fact is, those boys your father arrested today were my boys. They worked for me. They didn’t take anything from me. They had no need to steal what already belonged to them in one way or another.”

“That’s not true!”

A wicked chuckle fell from Max’s lips. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face, would you, Ms. Page?

“You didn’t find out who your daddy was until Lane and Art were taken into custody. Why hell, you probably didn’t even realize your momma was a whore until my boys told you and you probably think—somewhere in your simple mind—that those two men you saved from the noose today plan to stay here and make all your troubles go away.

“Women like you lie to themselves. That’s how they keep living. That’s how you, my dear, keep pressing forward.” He tossed the belt aside and screamed, “You will not lie to me!”

“Hold it right there, Max,” Lane said, stepping inside the cabin with his gun cocked.

Victoria
released a heavy sigh. “Thank God.”

An evil smile tilted Max’s lips. “Well, look what we have here.”

“Let her go, and I’ll let you walk out of here. Keep your hands on her, and you’ll lose them about the time you lose your life. Is that what you want?”

Art stepped inside her small quarters, too. “Max, you’d better listen to him.”

“Well if it isn’t the other half of the package deal,” Max grumbled. “It’s been a long time, Art.”

“Yes and I was hoping it would be another hundred years or so before I set eyes on you again.”

“Planning on living forever, are ya?” Max asked.

Art cocked his gun. “I reckon I have a few days more than you do.”

The man behind
Victoria
shifted his weight, and Art turned his gun on him as quickly as he returned the revolver and pointed once again at his original target. “
Victoria
, get behind Lane.”

Victoria
scurried toward Lane and ducked behind him, peering over Lane’s shoulder just long enough to gauge Max’s expression. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Lane said out of the corner of his mouth.

“I thought you said you didn’t rob him.”

“I didn’t,” Lane told her. “We just took back the gold he originally stole from us.”

Max laughed. “You always could justify your actions.”

“We had a deal, Max,” Lane told him. “We spent months down here digging. We slept in the cold and rain. We barely had food on the table, and never had one day when we were warm or comfortable in the wintertime. You said you’d give us the equipment we needed for mining.”

Art chuckled. “That was a lie.”

“You said you’d send in money for food, room, and board.”

“I never slept anywhere but under the stars,” Art informed him.

Lane shook his pistol at Max. “But I guess the coin that rolled away from this poor miner’s vault was the one that mattered most. You promised us a fifty-fifty split. You never worked those mines. You never gave us the equipment you swore would one day arrive. And you damn sure didn’t sleep outdoors without a blanket to warm you or a roof over your head.”

“We only took our claim,” Art assured him. “And your sorry ass reported all of that gold stolen.”

Max’s eyes darkened. He studied the man to his right. Apparently detecting the other fellow’s uneasiness, Lane said, “Let me guess. You’re on his payroll, too?”

“Are you freelancing?” Art asked.

The fellow nodded.

“Nice,” Art commented. “I gotta give you credit, Max. You’ve stayed alive a lot longer than I thought you might. You’ve cheated every man from here to
Virginia
and you still manage to keep hiring good men, miners who just want to make a better way for their families, for themselves. You’re a piece of work.”

“He’s a piece of shit,” Lane mumbled. “That’s what he is.”