Black Conley (8 page)

Belle assessed the suit. It hadn't been left by anyone other than her father. The last time she'd seen it was when she'd packed away the clothes that were hanging in his closet and had Roy take them to the attic. It was evident that Black filled out the suit and shirt much better than her father did. His broad shoulders ran in a line down to a narrow waist and hips. Without his guns and with his hair slicked back, he looked absolutely handsome.

"The suit belonged to my father. I must thank Annie for bringing down the trunk containing his things. It will be much easier for you to have more than one change of clothes."

Black nodded. “May I have the honor of escorting you to supper, Miss Barton?"

The tone of his voice coupled with the formality of his speech took her completely by surprise. “Ah, yes, you may."

He took her hand in his and tucked it into the crook of his arm as though he was a fancy gentleman escorting a lady to one of the dances she'd attended when she lived in Ohio. In all the years she'd been on the Double Bar B, no one had treated her in such a way.

His close proximity brought a shiver of delight to her nether regions, and she willed the sensation to subside. It certainly didn't help that he was looking at the mounds of her breasts like a hungry man eyeing a steak.

"I'm not the main course, Mr. Conley,” she said, her voice only loud enough for him to hear.

"The more the shame. You are a beautiful woman, Belle Barton. Someday I hope you realize just how lovely you are. It's a shame that you hide your best assets with the sham that you're tough as nails. Something tells me that with the right man, you could be downright dangerous in bed."

Belle fought the urge to slap his face for making such a suggestion. As her employee, he had no right to say such a thing to her. Rather than act on her intensions, she held her tongue. Being her employee was only a ruse so that no one could figure out what he was doing on the Double Bar B before he had the evidence he needed to convict Clayte Adamson of rustling.

Black enjoyed watching Belle squirm. Of course, the view of her breasts was an added bonus. They were large enough that they would fit perfectly in his hands. He wondered if he would fit as perfectly inside her.

He'd bedded many whores in his day, and that was exactly what they were; whores, receptacles for the pent-up need that filled his cock as well as his mind. They were not the women that dreams were made of. Belle Barton was such a woman.

He could almost imagine slipping his cock into her velvety folds and riding her like he would a wild mustang. It would be an adventure to teach her the joys of being with a man. Earlier he had thought she was not a virgin, but her behavior said otherwise. If she didn't have experience, he'd have to go slowly so as not to hurt her. He'd only ever taken the virginity of one woman and although it had been satisfying to be the first man to lie with her, he had regretted his actions. It wasn't right to take a woman for the first time unless you planned to spend the rest of your life with her.

Trying to get his mind off Belle, he concentrated on the lovely girl on his grandfather's ranchero. Her name had been Teresa, and she'd been the daughter of his grandfather's foreman. She'd dogged him until he finally gave in and took her in back of the barn. When her virginity had given way to him she'd cried, but urged him to go further until at last they were both lost in the throes of passion. She had lost her virginity on the same afternoon as he lost his. It had been pleasant, but at the same time, he was ashamed. She deserved better than him. The next day he left the ranchero to take care of the unfinished business he'd left in Texas.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Roy and Annie greeted them. “I told you Black would look good in Matt's old suit,” Annie declared. “Tomorrow I'll wash up the rest of the clothes in the trunk and get them put in the drawers and closet."

"I can take care of my own clothes,” Black protested.

"You'll learn that you can't argue with Annie,” Belle teased. “I should know, I've lost enough arguments with her. Speaking of which, where are the rest of my clothes?"

Black smiled at the exchange between Belle and Annie. He had wondered why Belle had chosen this particular dress to wear.

"Oh, dear,” Annie said, wringing her hands in mock distress. “Did I forget to bring your clothes in off the line? It was such a perfect day I thought I should air them out before winter."

"Sure, you forgot,” Belle replied. “When you were cleaning, wasn't it just convenient that this was the only dress you didn't take out to air? As a matter of fact, it isn't even my dress. Unless I'm wrong, it belongs to Kate."

Blacked laughed at her statement. “I think it was a very appropriate choice,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “As much as I like the way you look in those britches and shirt, this dress is ten times better.” With his free hand, he reached up to trace a line from her jaw down her neck. Before he reached her breasts, he felt her tense and pulled back.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Conley.” The tone of her voice told him she meant business.

"I've never seen the boss so flustered before,” Cara commented. “Just what kind of magical spell do you have cast over her, Black?"

"There's nothing magical about it,” Belle replied, a bit too quickly. “If Annie hadn't been playing matchmaker again, none of this would have happened."

Black was glad that he wasn't taking the brunt of the blame.

"Well, someone has to play matchmaker,” Annie retorted. Her smile said that she wasn't one bit upset about Belle's accusations. “You certainly aren't a sweet young thing anymore. You're getting close to thirty, and that's the time that a woman should be thinking about settling down with a husband and a passel of younguns."

"And I suppose you think I should be considering Clayte's proposal to become his wife and mother to his brats. Well, if that's what you have on your mind, Annie Heath, you can jolly well forget it. I'd sooner bed down with a rattler than to get myself in that situation."

"That's not what I was planning and you know it, young lady. Now, if you don't hurry, supper will get cold and no one will enjoy it."

"Whatever you say, Annie, but please make up your mind. Am I a young lady or an old maid? You can't have it both ways."

From the tone of Belle's voice, Black could tell, that Belle's earlier annoyance had been replaced by a more playful mood. He decided that the two of them participated in this matchmaking battle on a regular basis. Had the older woman hoped to have Belle as her daughter-in-law? If she did, she'd have a long wait. Ed Heath was a bachelor, but far from an eligible one. He was married to his job, and women were the farthest things from his mind.

Black thought about Ed as he escorted Belle to the table. The man never ceased to amaze him. While Black visited the whores in whatever town he stopped in, Ed never seemed to have those urges. He often wondered about that, but decided his friend was more dedicated to his job than most men.

The conversation at the table was the kind you'd expect to hear. Each of the girls talked about the work they'd done during the day, while Belle listened. Black could tell that she was making mental notes of every word in order to plan for the next day's work.

Black wondered when the subject of why he was at the Double Bar B would come up. When no one broached it, he cleared his throat.

"There's something that I need to get off my chest,” he said, once he had everyone's attention. “It's no accident that I came to the Double Bar B to work. I was sent here by Roy's son to investigate the rustling.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. While he did, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his badge. “You see, I'm a U. S. Marshal. Ed wanted me to come here because he didn't trust the sheriff to do right by Belle. I tend to agree. I've met the man, and trusting him would be like sending the fox into the henhouse to guard the chickens. I think he's up to his eyeballs in this rustling thing. That said, I trust the truth of my identity will remain just between those of us at this table."

It took a moment for what he'd said to sink in. When it did, he was amazed at how four females could all talk at the same time. “One at a time,” he said, “I'll answer all your questions, but not when you're all talking at once. I can hardly hear myself think."

"Chickens in the henhouse,” Roy commented.

"And just what do you mean by that, Old Man?” Annie asked.

"That's what it sounded like in here when all the girls were talking at once. It sounded like it does when the chickens are all clucking at the same time when you walk into the hen house."

Everyone got a laugh out of Roy's observation before they started asking questions. They were the usual ones Black expected, the questions that were asked again and again when people found out what it was he did for a living. Still, they were ones that deserved answers if he intended to work with these women in putting the people responsible for the loss of the Double Bar B cattle in jail.

One by one, Black answered the questions the girls posed for almost an hour. He was certain their comments and concerns would go on far into the night if someone hadn't knocked at the door.

The prospect of a late-night visitor silenced the girls as Belle got up to go out to the kitchen and answer the insistent knocking. Black couldn't help but overhear the conversation between Belle and her visitor.

"Why did you have to go and hire a gunslinger, Belle?” he heard the man at the door ask.

"I didn't hire a gunslinger,” Belle replied.

"Like hell you didn't. If you don't know the reputation of your new hand, the rest of us do. Black Conley has killed over thirty men. What are you planning to do, have us all shot in our sleep so you can increase the size of the Double Bar B?"

Black listened to Belle's answer, but refused to allow her to face up to the man at the door alone. He pushed back his chair, ignoring the warning glance he received from Roy.

"Do you have a problem with me, Mister?” Black asked, pushing past Belle. “If you do, I suggest you accuse me to my face and leave Miss Barton out of it. Now, who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Black, this is Jeb Taylor, one of my neighbors,” Belle said.

"So, Conley,” Jeb began before Black could speak, “how do you plan to help Ballbuster Belle run us all out? Can I expect a bullet in the back, or are you helping Belle steal my cattle?"

"Taylor, I did get the name right, didn't I?” He paused, allowing the man to nod. “Good, then that means your place runs across the south side of the Diamond A. Why is it that you're accusing Belle of stealing your cattle?"

The man ran his tongue over his lips as though contemplating his answer. “Let's see, she runs this place with a passel of whores, I doubt old Matt was sure she was even his daughter, and you show up right in the midst of her rustling spree. I lost another ten head last night, and now I see that her herd is moved. What more proof do I need?"

"To begin with, Belle wouldn't have to use whores, as you call them, to run her place if the men in this area weren't so lily-livered that they couldn't get past the notion of working for a woman. I doubt you've ever worked with these women when they're ranching, but I have and I've never worked with a better bunch of ranch hands. What they do at night is their business, but I guess you don't fuck your wife at night. Come to think of it, I've even heard that you seem to like visiting the whores above the Purple Moon Saloon. What does your wife think of that? I'll tell you what I think. I'm not above taking a poke at a whore, but I don't have a wife at home waiting for me. If I did, you can stake your life on it, the Purple Moon would be the last place you'd find me."

"You can't compare a man havin’ a little fun to girls who get paid to fuck a man to women trying to run a ranch, can you?"

"Of course I can. I really can't see why a man would spend his hard-earned money on a whore when he has a wife waiting for him at home, but then maybe I'm different than you. That brings us to Belle, and who she is or isn't. From what I hear, Belle is the spitting image of her ma. Besides, if she were out to get something for nothing, why would she come to a godforsaken place like this? I can't imagine anyone wanting a ranch in Montana, where the winter comes straight from the gates of hell and summers are far too short. If her intentions were getting something for nothing, I can think of a lot better places to do it than Larson's Gap."

"That brings us to you. Why are you here?"

"Like I said at the saloon the other night, I found myself in this part of the country and didn't like the thought of spending the winter outdoors, since I couldn't afford to rent a room for the whole time. When I asked about a job, I was told to try the Double Bar B. No one told me that you or any of the others around the area were hiring. If a man wants to eat, he has to work and if that means working for Belle Barton, then that's what I intend to do. The bed is nice and soft and the meals are good. As for the work, it's nothing I've never done before. You mentioned the fact that I was a gunslinger, and you're right, but the men I've killed have always drawn on me first. The first one was in East Texas when I was fourteen. After a while, I realized it wasn't a really stable profession. I don't hire my guns out anymore, and I don't shoot people in the back."

"But what about my cattle?” Jeb asked.

"What about them? I reckon they're in the same place as the fifty head Belle's lost over the past few weeks."

"I want to check Belle's herd to see what brands are on them."

Black nodded. “I think that's a right fine idea. We eat breakfast here at six. I'll be ready to ride with you and any of the other neighbors by seven. We'll start with the cattle that have been moved up by the house, then we'll check out the other ranges. There's nothing here that needs to be hidden and the sooner you and your friends realize it, the better."

Jeb turned on his heel and started down the steps of the porch. “We'll be here at six,” he called over his shoulder. “I don't want you to move any of them cattle without us."