Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (3 page)

Not one to let his thoughts simmer for long, Quayde waited only until they’d delivered their prisoner to the jail and collected the fifty-dollar bounty to bring up what he figured might become a problem. “You like her too, don’t you?”

“A lady who can handle a gun
and
make my dick hard? ’Course I do.” Slapping his hat against his thigh, PC coughed when a puff of dust rose to his face. “We’ll go calling on Ilona tomorrow, let her decide. I doubt she’d choose either of us right now.”

No woman would—except a certain redheaded prostitute. With three days’ worth of beard, dirt, and sweat to dispose of, Quayde was surprised their rides didn’t run for the hills. “I think we should share the reward with her. After all, she fired the shot that took Jenkins down.”

PC nodded. “Let’s give her half, and we’ll split the rest. Twelve and a half dollars isn’t chicken feed.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Walking in silence for several strides, Quayde’s imagination searched for a reason Ilona could’ve been traveling by herself with no horse, no belongings, and no escort. She couldn’t have been coming to town to be a schoolteacher, seeing as Encanto had no school.

With a frown, PC aimed for the livery stable. “You don’t suppose she’s here for an arranged marriage, do you? I’d hate to pick a fight with an acquaintance over her.”

“Who, Ilona? Nah. A gal like her wouldn’t have any trouble finding a husband wherever she came from. Besides, what father would send his daughter off by herself this close to Comanche country?”

At the stable, PC handed both sets of reins to the old man standing outside with the stolen roan and gestured for Quayde to follow him toward the saloon. “Could be she’s one of those independent types that doesn’t think she needs a man to take care of her. Give her a double-barrel, and I bet she could damn well take care of herself.”

“I don’t know. She tried to hide it, but the whole ordeal upset her enough that she almost cried.”

“I’m guessing she’s never shot a living thing in her life. Hopefully, she won’t be too shocked at having to stay in a brothel overnight. ’Course, we didn’t have any other options, her being a woman.”

They didn’t have a choice. With no hotel and the handful of rooms for let already taken, that left The Wyndham House—part bordello, part lodging for unaccompanied women. Any smart female chose the protection of Miss Patience. As much as Quayde would’ve preferred guarding Ilona himself, he wasn’t about to sully her reputation by inviting her to stay in his and PC’s room.

The door to the saloon was propped open, and they entered the dimly lit bar. Sitting at a table in the corner, Quayde raised a hand at the barkeep, sticking up two fingers and getting a nod in response. “As long as the other ladies don’t make a fuss, I think she’ll be fine.”

PC dug into his supper as soon as the bartender set it in front of him. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Looks good, Ben.” Ignoring the packet of bank notes from the bounty tucked inside his vest, Quayde fished a couple Mexican coins out of the pouch at his waist. “Mind if we use the bathtub out back?”

“Help yourselves. The missus laundered the bedding while you were gone.” The bartender pocketed the money and returned to the counter for their drinks.

Snorting a laugh, PC grinned. “That’s a hint if I ever heard one.”

Ben set mugs of potato beer next to the plates of pinto beans and bread. “No hint. Emily likes the rooms and the tenants clean. Fewer bedbugs and lice, she says. You boys are paid up to the end of the month, but I thought I’d ask if you’re planning to stay on.”

Unsure of their plans, Quayde shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet, but we’ll discuss it and let you know by Saturday.”

“Sounds fair.” Wiping his hands on the cloth tucked into the waistband of his trousers, Ben headed back to the bar.

The delay gave them three days to figure out what the hell to do. They’d been in Encanto for four weeks and still hadn’t puzzled out how they’d gotten to the tiny town a day and a half ride from San Antonio. Two separate searches of the surrounding area had yielded nothing familiar to him or PC.

With a modest amount of money in their possession and not much more than the clothes on their backs and the horseflesh under their asses, he’d figured they were lost travelers seeking a new life in a sparsely populated area. Had they come to Texas for free land? Somehow, the idea of them being on the run from the law didn’t sit right. Neither had any inclination to lie, cheat, or steal.

He shoveled another bite of beans into his mouth. Although the meal was filling and tasted good, a little variety would’ve been nice.
Damn, I could really go for a big turkey dinner.

Wait a minute
. Why would he want something he’d likely never eaten before? Buffalo were much more plentiful than turkeys around these parts.
Mashed potatoes and gravy.

Laying the fork on his empty plate, he took a couple long swallows of beer. Too much time on the trail must’ve addled his brain, because the liquid in the tin mug didn’t taste quite right, either. Where the hell had they come from?

* * * *

Reluctant to climb out of the cooling water, PC leaned his head on the rim of the tub and closed his eyes. Three long days in the saddle had caught up to him.

“Hey, Pax.”

He blinked, brought out of a half doze by Quayde’s serious tone. “Yeah?”

His friend stood against the porch railing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. A bead of water dripped from his wet hair onto his shirt. “Sheriff’s here. He wants to know what happened with Jenkins and Miss Ilona. Said the son of a bitch is claiming she shot him for no reason.”

Pushing to his feet, PC grabbed his towel and started drying. His temper flared at the wild accusation. “That bastard. Hell,
I’ll
take the blame for shooting him before I let a woman get blamed for protecting herself.”

“I already tried to tell Boggs I did it, but he—”

The rear door of the saloon swung open. The sheriff stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “Now, fellows, the truth is all I need. I spoke to the lady while Miss Wyndham cauterized Jenkins’s wound. Miss Ilona admitted to pulling the trigger, but she says he pushed her backward as he shoved her arms down. Shot clean through his bollocks.”

Wrapping the towel around his waist, PC suppressed a shudder at the imagined pain of having his balls blown off. “He damn well deserved it. When we crested the hill, two of his men were on horseback and the other two were standin’ next to him. We fired warning shots in the air to scare ’em off when we realized it was his gang. Her gun went off after ours, which tells me it was an accident. She probably flinched when she heard the shots.”

Boggs nodded. “That’s what I figured happened from her side of the story. Good thing ya came along when ya did. And I’m sure Miss Patience enjoyed nursin’ on the man who roughed up one of her girls.”

A laugh from Quayde eased some of tension in PC’s muscles. His friend dropped his arms to prop his hands on his hips. “I bet she did. There’s a woman who isn’t about to take shit from anybody.”

Relieved at the sheriff’s acceptance of Ilona’s innocence, PC tugged on a clean pair of trousers and finally asked the question foremost in his mind. “How’s Miss Ilona? Is Miss Wyndham lookin’ after her?”

With another nod, Boggs grinned. “She cleans up real nice. Not sure why a young lady would be travelin’ alone like she was. Downright dangerous if you ask me, but she says she’s none the worse for wear. Even said to tell her
rescuers
thank you for her and that she’d be up to visitors tomorrow after breakfast. Seems to me she’s lookin’ for some courtin’.”

Quayde shrugged and glanced toward PC. Neither spoke.

“I best get back to the jail. You boys stay outta trouble.” Without waiting for a response, the sheriff disappeared into the saloon.

Grateful that Boggs seemed satisfied to let Ilona off the hook, PC rubbed the towel over his hair and waited for Quayde to comment on the prospect of courting her. Twenty minutes of soaking had bolstered PC’s own decision to pursue the pretty girl who’d braved the Texas wilderness by herself. He only hoped his and GQ’s friendship didn’t suffer if she chose one of them over the other.

GQ? Why the hell did I call him that?
Strange thoughts had crept into his mind several times in the past few days—things that seemed familiar but defied explanation.

“It’s happenin’ to you too, isn’t it?”

Shaking off the strange tingle between his shoulder blades, PC studied his friend’s grim line of a mouth and furrowed brows. Quayde had experienced some of the same oddities. The truth was plain to see on his face. “You ever feel like you have no past? Like a part of your history is gone?”

They’d both used the excuse of looking for a plot of land to claim when they’d actually been searching for clues about where they’d come from before arriving in Encanto not quite a month ago. Evidently, neither of them had wanted to admit to the sense of being dropped into a life that wasn’t their own.

Gesturing for PC to follow him, Quayde started up the outside steps leading to their second-floor rented room, the lantern hanging from the porch roof lighting the way on the moonless night. After pulling the plug’s chain to drain the bathwater, PC followed. They didn’t need unseen ears listening in on this particular conversation.

Quayde sat on the edge of his bed, putting a match to the oil lamp’s wick and then steepling his fingers under his chin. “Don’t get me wrong—riding a horse and living in Texas feels natural enough, but sometimes I get these weird notions. Like part of the town is missing, or I should be doing…something.”

Relieved he wasn’t the only one having the random out-of-place reactions, PC nodded. “Seeing those herds of buffalo yesterday made me want to round ’em up for branding, but I’m not sure I know the first damn thing about raising cattle. I can’t remember anything before riding into town with you. My memories are fuzzy.”

Rubbing his palms on his trousers, Quayde chewed on his lower lip and blew out a noisy sigh. “If I tell you about a dream I had, do you promise not to lock me up like a crazy person?”

Curiosity had PC leaning forward. “Can’t be any stranger than some I’ve had.”

“You ever see tall buildings made of glass? Or hundreds of fancy horseless wagons?”

“Yeah, and lights everywhere at night. Crowds of people on the sidewalks, and music coming from the wagons. None of it seemed strange in the dream—almost like I’d been there before. As if I was remembering.” PC paced to the washbasin and stared into the mirror. He still recognized the face looking back at him.

“Do you think it’s possible to travel through time?”

Quayde’s question had PC looking over his shoulder toward his friend. He shrugged, not quite ready to admit the same idea had crossed his mind. Crossing to his bed, he stripped off his trousers and crawled under the covers. “Don’t know. Right now, I need sleep.”

“Hell of a long day, wasn’t it?” Light rustling followed the dousing of the light. A few seconds later, Quayde’s bed creaked. “Even if we belong somewhere else, I’m glad we were here to help Miss Ilona.”

PC grunted in response, his throat too tight to speak a word. He hated to think what might’ve happened to her if they hadn’t arrived when they did. As badly as he wanted to go check on her tonight, waiting until morning was the right thing to do.

Tomorrow, Ilona.

* * * *

Sipping her tea, Ilona studied Patience Wyndham over the china cup. Her classic beauty made guessing her age impossible. Laugh lines fanned out from intelligent gray-green eyes, and a thick mane of black hair hung to her waist. Her lips were now void of the vivid red lipstick Ilona couldn’t help noticing upon meeting the owner of Wyndham House.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Ilona. Some women aren’t comfortable offering themselves for pleasure, so you needn’t feel obligated.” Patience reached forward to pat Ilona’s knee. “A pretty girl like you could make a good income if you decide to take on clients, but you’re welcome to earn your keep by helping with the cooking and tidying. I never turn a woman away so long as she doesn’t try to take advantage of my generosity.”

“I–I believe I’d like to…entertain some gentlemen.”
There. I said it.
When her hormones took over at midnight, Ilona would be hard-pressed to state her wishes without using the word “fuck.” Even now, blood pumped through her veins at a slightly accelerated pace.

A gentle smile assured her of Miss Wyndham’s satisfaction with her decision. “They aren’t all gentlemen, so I have a few basic rules to protect my interests and the ladies who choose this option. My permission is required for all men who enter the house. If you wish to entertain anyone not previously admitted, I ask that you make arrangements for an interview prior to his arrival. You may collect whatever fee you wish for your services, but please encourage your gentleman to partake of a drink or a meal so I may continue to provide a safe haven for those in need. Each room has a bell-pull for emergencies should you or your client need assistance.” She paused for a sip of tea before continuing with her instructions. “How you dress and paint your face is your own choice. Some of our visitors prefer colorful ladies, while others enjoy a more wholesome presentation. If you have a liking for certain unconventional types of play, I can direct you to those men who are willing to accommodate your preferences. Do you have any questions?”