To Wed a Wanton Woman

To Wed a Wanton Woman

by

KyAnn Waters

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

To Wed a Wanton Woman

COPYRIGHT 2012 by KyAnn Waters

All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission
of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Visit www.KyAnnWaters.com

Publishing History

First Edition, July 2012

Originally Published as Marion’s Train
(2006)

This book has been revised from its original
publication.

Published in the United States of America

Chapter One

Montana
1879

A late summer breeze blew through Montana’s canyons scorching the cracked, barren trail. Wild grasses and ground brush
withered under the unrelenting, midday sun.

Marion Young squinted under the shelter of
her raised hand, surveying the heat rising in waves from the dust. Sweat
trickled down the side of her face as she sat on the bouncing seat of a buggy.
She fanned her face with stiff paper wondering how much further it was to the
Bester Ranch. Reaching down, she grasped the folds of her cotton dress and
petticoat, lifting them onto her lap. She rested boot-clad feet on the rim of
the wood frame, spreading her bare legs wide.

“Always a lady,” Sandy Jensen said sarcastically.

Marion
shifted a glance. Sandy was more than a friend; she was the only family a whore
could ever hope to have. The madam of the Dusty Rose Brothel was a blessing to
all her girls. In the years while Marion lived and worked with Sandy, she learned to cipher, read, and write. She also learned to tempt a man to part with
his money. Marion’s pouty lips made a man ache to see them wrapped around his
cock. While in the brothel, her full tits teased as they spilled from the
seductive bodices that hugged her thin frame.

“Don’t badger me,” Marion said, shrugging
off the comment. “Refinement comes easier for you.” She fidgeted with the tight
neckline of her dress. “I’d like to take this damn dress off. I’ve never worn
this much clothing.”

“You’d stand as maid of honor at Allison’s
wedding in your usual attire? Tsk tsk. TJ Bester is the biggest toad in the
puddle around here. I will not soil his bride’s reputation by showing up
dressed as a whore. If his guests don’t know his fiancée’s former occupation,
we are not going to be the ones to enlighten them.”

“It isn’t as if she worked on her back,” Marion said. “Allison didn’t have the stomach for bedding strangers. Hell, she couldn’t
bed down with any of the regulars either. But she was good at taking care of
us. Cleaning up after whores doesn’t make you one. She would’ve starved if we
hadn’t taken her in.”

“Some of us were born for the work.” Sandy swatted at a horsefly. “Allison was bred to be a wife and mother.”

Marion
reached behind and undid the buttons of her dress giving air to her soaked
décolletage. “I won’t say anything. I have more grace than that.” She groaned
as she leaned back. “Dear Lord, deliver us from this heat.” Taking her hankie,
she wiped the perspiration from between her breasts. “Hell couldn’t be this
hot.”

“One day, we’ll find out.” Sandy laughed and
flicked the reins. “It isn’t much further.”

Marion
glanced at her friend. A river of sweat followed her hairline. “How are you
feeling?” A rut in the road bounced them around on the seat.

“Don’t fret over me. I’m fine. Doc Applewood
was in last week. He said I am the picture of health.”

“I don’t think you can call what you were doing
a medical examination.”

“Well, we both felt better afterward.”

“Do you think TJ will hire someone else to
care for the household now that Allison is being promoted into a new position?
Oh Sandy, I hope he shows her lots and lots of new positions.” Marion laughed as she leaned her head back. “Not an ounce of fat around his gut. How could
I not wonder? Seems like everyone I’ve seen lately has more gut than goods.”

“TJ is going to be married to our Allison.
Believe me, I know. You don’t want carnal knowledge of your best friend’s
husband.” She was quiet for a moment. “In fact, I worry Allison’s going to have
a hard time knowing TJ used to be a regular patron of mine. At least, as far as
my relationship with him, he isn’t like his father. We won’t see TJ at the
Dusty Rose once he’s married.”

“I wish I could find a man who wants to pleasure
me. I’m tired of sweaty, sour smelling miners. I want what Allison found.”

“Money, looks, and love?”

“A cowboy who knows how to use what the good
Lord gave him…and I ain’t talking about smarts,” Marion stated with a perverse
pleasure in the challenge. “We’re going to a ranch. Maybe I’ll find one.”

“Flirt if you like, Marion, nothing else.
You’re not open for business. Only advertise.”

Marion
opened the carpetbag from under her seat, retrieving a small pouch of tobacco.
“I can’t roll.” She laughed, her body jostling on the seat. “Could you at least
try to avoid the ruts?” Finally, she lit one and handed it to Sandy, then lit
another for herself before returning to the topic of conversation. “Allison
thinks of you like a mother. She knows TJ loves her.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sandy said as she
tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. “We’ll rest here and freshen
up.” She pointed to a clearing not far off the road where a river snaked around
a cluster of scrub oak. The water rippled and foamed against rocks jutting out
from the riverbed.

Barefoot, Marion reached the water’s edge
and carefully found her footing. Swift running water splashed up her leg as she
held her dress around her thighs. “This is better than sex,” Marion said, and
then sighed.

Cupping her hands in the ice-cold mountain
runoff, Sandy splashed her face and soothed her parched throat. “We want to
make a statement when we arrive. Remember, we are ladies.”

* * *

Nestled in the mountains, the log pole, two-story
main house of Bester Ranch presented picturesque majesty. The wide, front porch
welcomed family and friends alike. A porch swing invited leisurely evenings
watching sunsets or snuggling under a blanket during a summer thunderstorm. Towering
trees reached to the heavens giving testament that all things were larger than
life in this part of the country.

Sandy
waved at TJ Bester when they pulled the buggy up to the house. “We made it,”
she said, accepting his assistance to the ground.

TJ tilted his head in Marion’s direction in
greeting. She alighted without assistance and walked around the buggy. Several
horses were tethered to the large stable off to the left. Cowboys paused in
their duties to admire the two women who were first to arrive for the main
event.

Marion
squealed as Allison sprinted across the grounds avoiding the lace-covered, rectangle
tables between them. Her long chestnut locks bounced in the breeze while her
cheeks grew pink from the exertion.

Marion
hugged Allison tightly.

“Allison!” Sandy scolded. “The groom is not
supposed to see his bride before the wedding.” She winked at TJ as he took
their bags from the buggy.

“I’ll put their bags in the room next to
yours, Sugar.”

“Sugar?” Marion teased. “He must find you
very sweet.”

“Married folks often have pet names for each
other,” Sandy said. “Not all names have sexual meaning.”

“So, Allison?” Marion asked. “How did you
get yours?”

Allison blushed crimson. “Don’t ask. Long
story and not very flattering. I’m so glad you came.” She pulled Sandy into a hug.

“Don’t mess my hair,” Sandy said, trying to
keep Allison at a distance. Using her palms, she smoothed her copper-colored
hair back into the enormous, plume covered bonnet. Unlike Marion, Sandy wore full makeup. Pancake powder covered her wrinkles, and plenty of dark shadow
accented her heavily lined eyes. “Don’t smudge my lips,” she warned when Allison
leaned in to give her a kiss.

“I better not touch you.” Allison laughed
and pulled back. “Come, I want to show you the house.” She linked her arm with Marion’s.

“It looks like plenty of male company around
here for a girl like me,” Marion teased.

“We are not here to work,” Sandy said, a stern
warning to her voice.

“He’d be purely for pleasure.” She smiled at
a cowboy watching them walk toward the house. TJ had joined him.

“That’s TJ’s best friend,” Allison said,
looking over her shoulder. “His name is Joseph, but everyone calls him Train.”
Train stood an inch or two shorter than TJ, but his broad shoulders tapered
into a narrow waist, making him look bigger than his mentor. Although both men
had chiseled features, a couple days worth of whiskers dusted Train’s hollow
cheeks. Obviously, he spent a good deal of his time weathering the elements.
Under his cowboy hat, his eyes squinted against the sun that had bronzed his
skin. Marion felt an instant warmth in her sex. Tingles chased along her spine
and her nipples hardened.

“Mmm,” Marion cooed. “Let me guess. Is he
called Train because he has a large locomotive?”

Allison’s jaw dropped. “I wouldn’t know the
size of his locomotive!”

“You girls can chat without me,” Sandy said. “I need to rest. I admit, I don’t like being awake at this time of day.”

* * *

“I see Allison’s friends have arrived,”
Train said as he continued to clear the area of large rocks for construction of
a temporary wooden dance floor.

He couldn’t help staring at the woman with hair,
black as onyx, piled high on her head. Pearl and abalone clips twinkled in the
sun. Olive skin and almond-shaped eyes touched only with a hint of makeup.
However, even from a distance he could see her rose red lips when she smiled.

“Can you believe those two looking like
proud peacocks?” TJ picked up his hammer.

Train shrugged. “They probably don’t get
many opportunities to dress properly.”

“Train, you’ve never been to the Dusty Rose
with me. A whore is good at two things. I don’t need to tell you about the
first. The other thing is dressing up.”

“Whore or not, there’s more to women than
sex and fancy clothes.”

TJ smiled. “After you get some experience
we’ll talk about what inspires a woman.” He held his hand up to stop Train from
giving another lecture. “I’m about to be a married man. My only concern is
Allison.” He looked toward the house. “The younger woman’s called Marion. She has a temper, but she can be a lot of fun. Sandy’s too old for you.”