Mail Order Bride: Westward Christmas Novel (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 11) (7 page)

              No withdrawal could have been worse than what Joe was going through.  Everywhere he looked there were possible bets to be made.  On which of his horses was going to win during their training runs, how soon it would rain, which turkey Cook had bought was the heaviest, or if George Levine was going to croak that day.  It was only his fierce determination to best Ben that kept him from making bets, even when he started to sweat with frustration. 

              Joe began doing what he did anytime he had a vexing problem.  He distracted himself by doing things that he loved.  Often that was gambling, but since that was out, he played with his daughter until she was ready to go play with her friend, Chelsea, down the road a piece.  Lacey was working on training a difficult mare, so making love to her was out for the moment. He would get to that activity later and that had nothing to do with needing a distraction. 

              He knew there was no way he could go to the Watering Hole and resist temptation-at least that day.  No, he had to get his sea legs under him, so to speak, before he could attempt that.  There was one thing he could do; go over breeding charts.  That held his attention for all of an hour and he was back to square one.

              “Damn it, Joe,” he said to himself.  He often talked to himself.  “Now, look here.  There’s got to be something you can do to take your mind off gambling.  You can’t go to see Black Fox because someone in the camp will want you to play a game of some sort.  There are no mares to breed, no horses for you to train at the moment, no meetings today, and your daughter and wife are otherwise engaged.  Aw, hell.  I need some other friends who have nothing to do with gambling.  That’s what I need.  The problem is that everyone else works during the day.  I do, too, but suddenly I have a lot of time on my hands.”

              He got up from his desk and walked out through the house looking for his butler, Randall.  He could have rung the bell for the Brit, but his father used to do that.  He didn’t want to make Randall feel like just an employee who was at his beck and call.  Finding Randall in the front parlor, Joe said, “Randy, I need to pick that keen brain of yours a moment or three.”

              Randall smiled.  “Of course, but I think you missed ‘two’ in there somewhere.”

              Joe laughed.  “So I did.  Sit down here with me.”

              Randall sat in one of the wingback chairs and crossed his legs elegantly.  “What is it, master?”

              Joe frowned.  He hated it when Randall called him that.  Lying down on the sofa, Joe asked him, “What is it I do all day, exactly?”

              Now Randall frowned.  “I don’t follow, sir.”

              “I’ll rephrase the question,” Joe said.  “How much time out of my day do you think I spend gambling on things?  Be honest, Randy.”

              Randall gave it careful consideration and didn’t answer Joe for several minutes.  Joe didn’t mind.  He’d rather a thoughtful, intelligent answer than a fast, stupid one.

              Randall asked, “You want to know how many hours, sir?”

              “Yes, sir, I do.”

              Randall went back to puzzling out the answer.  He uncrossed and re-crossed his legs twice before saying, “Using probability calculations and a knowledge of your usual schedule, I would estimate at least eight.”

              Joe sat up and swung his legs over the side of the sofa.  His hazel eyes were wide with disbelief.  “Eight hours?  I spend that much time gambling?”

              Randall said, “Give or take an hour to allow for inaccuracies, but yes.  In that general area, I believe.”

              Joe got up and began to pace back and forth in a way that told Randall that Joe was seriously agitated.

              “Joe, what is it?” Randall said.

              Joe told him about the bet he’d made with Ben.  “I spend a huge part of the day betting.  That’s a sad thing, Randy.  How is that possible?”

              “May I speak frankly, sir?”

              “Of course.”

              “Because you bet on everything, and I am not exaggerating.  You even bet on what color tie George Levine will be wearing on nights when you have town council meetings,” Randall said.

              Joe stopped and looked Randall in the eyes.  “I do, don’t I?  I’ve even got a bet going with Dean about what color tie he’ll be wearing for the funeral when he does finally croak.”

              Randall couldn’t help the fleeting smile that crossed his face at that remark.

              Joe laughed but sobered quickly.  “Do you know how much time that is to waste?  I need something else to do, Randy.”  He sat down again on the sofa.  “I don’t have enough to do to keep me busy.  That’s why I gamble.  I’m bored, Randy, so I gamble to fill the time.”

              Randall nodded.  “That sounds plausible, even probable.”

              “I can’t gamble until next week.  What am I going to do with myself?  It’s a slow week because of the holiday, but even when we are busier, I’ve got all kinds of people doing the work for me.  That’s what I pay them for.  To do the work so I don’t have to,” Joe said.

              Randall didn’t say anything.  He’d known Joe since he was nineteen and he knew when Joe was talking to him or to himself.

              Joe looked at Randall again and said, “I need a job, Randy!  That’s what I need.  There’s something I never thought I’d say.”

              Randall cocked his head at Joe and said, “You have one, sir.”

              “What’s that?” Joe said.

              “Joe, you are the mayor of Dawson.  That is your job.  I’m sure there are matters that could use your attention instead of your money,” Randall said.  “Things to improve the town, issues to resolve that might need more than the time a council meeting takes to deal with them.”

              Dumbfounded, Joe stared at Randall, and then a smile spread over his chiseled features.  “Hot damn, Randy!  You’re a genius!  It’s time I stop
playing
mayor and start
being
mayor.  Is that what you’re drivin’ at?”

              “It is, indeed, sir,” Randall said.

              Joe got up, kissed Randall’s head and said, “You are not allowed to ever die, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  Then he slipped money into Randall’s jacket pocket and patted it.  Going over to the door, Joe put his hat on and exited the house. 

              Randall grinned as he pulled the money out to see how much Joe had given him this time.  The hundred was very generous.  He went over to the coat rack by the door, took Joe’s from it, and went to stand by the door.  Almost as if on cue, Joe opened the door, said, “Damn, it’s cold out.  Thanks, Randy,” took the coat and left again.

              Sasha began thinking about something as she followed Ben from the camp out to the main road.  In her mind’s eye she saw how tender and sweet Ben had been with the children.  He’d also been kind and respectful to the women.  But when Raven had come after him, he’d become violent in an instant. 

              It had happened so fast that at first she had been so startled that it didn’t really register with her until now.  How did a doctor who did so much good, also hurt people?  And he had hurt Raven.  The young man hadn’t been able to breathe properly, if only briefly, after Ben hit him.  How had Ben known where to hit or who he was hitting?  What if it had been a woman or one of the children?

              She thought about the fierceness, the restrained power in Ben, and wondered where it came from.  The two sides of Ben intrigued her.  How did they exist together inside of one man?  She intended to find out.

              When they arrived at the main road, Ben pulled his horse back to ride beside her.  “What did you think of the camp?” he asked her.

              Sasha smiled.  “The children are adorable, especially Brown Otter.”

              “Yes, he is.  Are you still afraid of going there now that you’ve seen what it’s like?” Ben asked.  It was important to him that she be comfortable with the Lakota.

              “No, I’m not afraid now.  There was no one who did more than look at me.  Some smiled and Wind Spirit even tried to keep me out of the way when you and Raven scuffled,” Sasha said.

              Ben smiled.  “Thank you for tipping me off, by the way.  If you hadn’t, it would have been me on the ground instead of him.”

              Sasha frowned.  “About that; how did you know where to aim?  It could have been anyone coming up behind you.”

              “See, those Lakota boys like to play games.  Wrestling matches, especially.  Once they know you, they’ll get you any chance they can, so it is always best if you can strike first.  They’re the only ones who do that sort of thing to me.  You’ll see what I mean when we go to the Watering Hole.  Reckless is always getting me or Sammi that way,” Ben said with a laugh.

              Sasha gave him a startled look.  She knew that Sammi worked there as a bouncer, but to hear that she would be subjected to this kind of treatment was shocking to her.  “He goes after Sammi in such a fashion?”

              “Yes, ma’am.  Sammi doesn’t want any special treatment because she’s a woman.  Frankly, she doesn’t need any, either,” Ben said.  “I spar with her on a regular basis and believe me, there are times neither of us win and we have to call a draw.”

              “Is that so?” Sasha said.  She couldn’t fathom such a thing.

              Ben saw her mind working on that.  “I’ll tell you what; it would be a pleasure for me to make dinner for you.  We could dine and then go downstairs for some entertainment.”

              Sasha thought that it would certainly be something new.  After living such a boring, uneventful life with Ken, she could stand some adventure.  “Yes, I would like that very much,” she said, and sent him a smile.

              “Good.”  Ben rode closer and took her hand.  “I have a few questions for you.  If they are too personal, simply tell me and I’ll not continue asking them.”

              Sasha nodded.  “All right.” 

              “They are about your late husband,” Ben said, and looked at her to gauge her reaction.

              Sasha nodded.  “Go ahead.”

              “Last evening you said that your marriage was mostly in name only,” Ben said.  “How soon after you married did that start?”

              “A little over a year,” Sasha said.  She didn’t want to answer his questions, but felt that he deserved honesty from her.  It was embarrassing to have to admit that her husband hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.  The man who had promised to love and cherish her had done neither.

              Ben nodded.  “And how long were you married?”

              Sasha swallowed and said, “Six years.”

              Ben inhaled sharply, but that was the only outward reaction he made to what she’d said.  Six years she had been married, five of those spent without affection, without appreciation, without respect.  Ben could feel his nostrils flare as these thoughts created a cold anger inside him.  That a man could trap a woman in a loveless marriage was a horrible thing.  It was one of the things he didn’t miss about high society.  He knew such things happened in any society, but in his former circles, it happened frequently.  Marriages were often no more than business dealings.

              For a long time, it had skewed his view on marriage, and it wasn’t something he’d been ready for until the last few years.  He wondered if it was because Dawson was a family oriented community where most of the marriages he saw were based on love and not monetary gain.  Thinking about his twin sister Rebecca’s happy marriage to Jake made him realize that it was possible to find that kind of happiness. 

When he’d met Abby Bradbury, he’d seen a glimpse of that kind of joy, but it wasn’t meant to be.  He was not the man for Abby, and he’d realized that after he’d gone off to medical school.  Before leaving, he’d asked if she would write him and Abby had agreed.  Abby’s letters were a dizzying hodgepodge of questions and tidbits about the happenings around Dawson and he’d gained a new admiration for her husband, Elliot, that he was able to decipher the woman that was Abby.  The better man truly had won in that case.

              Ben squeezed Sasha’s hand a little as he vowed to make her feel valued as a person and desired as a woman.  For he did desire her.  Ben was a sensual person by nature, and he knew that had she not stopped him the previous night, he would have made love to her.  Though he had been raised with the idea of no sex before marriage, like many men of his station, he could get away with dalliances, and he’d had his fair share of them.

Widely known as a rake in his former social circles, Ben’s actions had been considered scandalous, but privately condoned by the “boys will be boys” mode of thinking.  Ben was of the minority opinion that if both parties were willing there was no shame in indulging in passion.  As he looked over at Sasha and smiled, he wondered how she felt about that.  As a gentleman, he would abide by her wishes and let it up to her to decide.

“Sasha, did he ever say why he didn’t want…intimacy?” he asked at length.