Authors: Scandalous Woman
“
Suppose she heard?”
Kid shifted his feet. “What does it matter?”
“
You know where we’re goin’, dolly girl?” Tom asked.
Carly met his gaze. She’d plenty of guile. “I didn’t hear what you all were talking about, if that’s what you’re asking. I was asleep.”
“
I reckon you’re a liar.” Tom stood straight and picked up his gun belt.
Carly kept her eyes steady, her chin lifted. Lying came naturally to her but he hadn’t been convinced.
“
Well, I suppose that don’t matter, because who’s gonna believe a whore?” Tom said, his voice soft and conversational-like.
Carly was immediately alert to his changed tone and stance.
“
Nobody in their right mind.” The Kid glared at Carly. “You had better keep your mouth shut about what you heard anyway.”
“
That’s right or else we’ll come back and make sure a bullet is put clear through your heart—and the hearts of every other whore in this joint.”
Carly swallowed hard. “I didn’t hear nothin’, now get out.”
The Kid tipped his hat. Tom frowned as his partner opened the door. He started to walk out then turned. “I forgot, thanks for the good time.” He tossed a silver dollar on the bed.
“
I thought we were going to pay double,” the Kid said.
“
I didn’t get all I came for.” He scoffed. “She got what her services were worth.”
The door shut behind them.
Carly dropped the pistol and sank into the bed, her entire body screaming out in agony. “Good riddance.”
She’d been afraid, she wasn’t gonna lie about that. Terrified. She’d no doubt they’d make good on their promise to kill all of them if she told what she knew. They’d been hired to kill a local man. She didn’t know who. She couldn’t afford to care.
She listened to the click of their boot heels on the hardwood and the ringing of spurs as they descended the stairs, and then finally the shouts of the other dollies as they welcomed them back. She reached for the bottle of Dr. Baxter’s Elixir, pulled out the cork and gulped down a healthy swig.
* * * * *
The sun blazed hot as a cast-iron stove as Jeddah Poole rode Shooter down the main drag of Tucson. He shifted in the saddle, wiped the grimy sweat on his brow with his bandana then pulled his hat lower to shade his eyes.
“
Gonna be a scorcher today.” He’d gotten into the habit of talking to his horse. Old Shooter didn’t seem to mind.
Surprisingly, the town was quiet for this time in the morning. A few shopkeepers swept the sand off the planked boardwalk. They stopped and watched him. They were curious, no doubt, to see a stranger coming their way out of the east. Each and every one of them placed their hands on their brows, keeping the sun from their faces, and followed his progress down the dusty street.
Jed nodded hello, touched two fingers to his Stetson, but not a one of them nodded back.
“
Mighty fine welcome, eh, Shooter?”
The horse snorted and chewed his bit.
Jed decided the citizens of Tucson were smart to be wary of strangers but he’d change their minds quick enough about him when they found out why he was here.
He continued traveling the wide street, checking out the town. He was the newest citizen of this lawless place—even if nobody knew it yet. He passed by the small adobe building with a large star painted on the triangle above the door, indicating it was the local jail. The place was deserted. Jed frowned. Apparently, not even a deputy had been left in charge.
The owner of the dry goods store across the street came out of his store to study Jed. His hawklike stare needed no interpretation. He barked some cuss words at a boy bringing in boxes from a wagon and followed him inside.
Best to keep moving, Jed decided. Introductions could wait. They’d been on the trail for two days and both could use some good grub and some shut-eye.
He rode on past the post office and the Wells Fargo Bank, both closed up tight. Next to the bank was an inn, aptly named the Tucson Inn, with mighty fine smells of frying meat and baking bread. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of his meager breakfast of a few dried venison strips. He’d be sure to stop in there for some grub when he finished his first order of business—finding a place for Shooter to bed down.
He saw the last building in town, set apart from the others. Smoke rose from chimney tiles.
“
Must be the livery,” he told Shooter.
A loud ruckus caught Jed’s attention. A couple of rough men stomped out of a pair of swinging doors to his right. They shouted cuss words to one another, a quarrel brewing—fueled, no doubt, by drink. Jed read the sign in need of a coat of paint.
The
Lonesome Saloon.
Jed thought the name all wrong. Seemed like the busiest place in town, especially for the early morning hour. Music floated out into the street along with women’s laughter. His cock jumped. After he filled his empty stomach, he would satisfy his other need. The saloon would be the second place he’d visit today.
He dismounted and headed for the livery. The large man came from around the back, wiping his hands on a rag. His forehead was smudged with coal dust and his clothes were filthy.
“
Howdy stranger,” he said. He didn’t come any closer.
Jed closed the gap. “Name’s Jeddah Poole. I’m your new sheriff.” He held out his hand to the smithy.
The smithy took it and shook hard. “John Trumbull. Mighty nice to have you here, Sheriff.”
He glanced back at the saloon. Jed followed his gaze. The two men he’d seen coming out of the Lonesome had mounted their shabby horses and were galloping out of town, shooting their guns into the air.
John huffed. “We’ve been needing someone with a badge here in Tucson. The town can be rough as a cob.”
“
Time that changed.”
“
We had a U.S. marshal for a spell but the poor man was killed in a nasty business last year.”
Jed had heard. The lawmen in the territory didn’t live long, he’d been told. He’d taken the position anyway. There was a job to be done and he was the man to do it.
“
I was sorry to hear about the marshal.” He spoke sincerely. He’d not known
the man but folks spoke of him with respect.
“
Yes sir. We’re mighty pleased you’re here.”
“
Thank you, kindly. I aim to keep the criminals out of Tucson.”
He’d have to take them all in hand. Lay down the law, so to speak. He wouldn’t allow desperadoes to run around like they owned the place, free to do what they pleased. Towns like this were ripe for the picking for no-accounts.
This was his town now and the good people of Tucson didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
“
Have they been open all night?” He nodded toward the saloon.
The smithy closed one eye. “You mean the Lonesome? That place operates around the clock.”
Jed grunted.
“
Prettiest gals this side of Santa Fe.” John grinned.
“
You don’t say?” Much as Jed craved a whiskey and a woman, those two
hombres
shooting up the town had him worried. They were liquored up and itching for trouble. Discharging a firearm in town was dangerous.
Jed wouldn’t be worth his salt as a lawman if he ignored them.
“
You recognize those cowpokes who just rode out of here?”
“
Couple of hired hands from one of the local ranches, I reckon. They don’t mean no harm, Sheriff, but they scare the bejesus out of the decent folks.”
“
I’ll ride out and give them a talking to.” No one shot up his town.
“
If you think it’ll help.”
Jed reconsidered. Both he and the mustang were spent. “It’ll keep until later.”
“’
Spect you want to keep your horse here?”
Jed patted Shooter’s neck. “Yeah, and he’ll need some oats.”
Mr. Trumbull took the reins. Jed removed his saddlebags and drew his Winchester out of its scabbard.
The smithy led Shooter away, leaving Jed to find his own accommodations. For now, he’d have to be satisfied with the jail. He couldn’t afford a place of his own. He hoped to make roots here, settle down. Someday, with enough cash, he would buy some land, build a stable for Shooter and a house to call home.
Jed wasn’t about to ignore his gnawing hunger a minute longer. He shouldered his saddlebag and made his way down the street. As he passed the Lonesome, he decided to stop in and give those boys inside a warning.
He ascended the rickety wooden stairs and pushed open the swinging doors.
The interior was dark, musty and heavy with cigar smoke. Peanut shells and sawdust littered the floor and crunched under his boots as he made his way to the bar. A barkeep, skinny as a pike, greeted him with a nod.
Jed set his rifle down and leaned back—his elbows resting against the scarred wood. Beer had dripped from the nearest table, leaving a pool on the floor. Men were passed out, heads on tables. Saloon dollies walked around picking up empty glasses.
One of them, a girl with a birthmark on her cheek, was pulled onto a lap, squealing. She nuzzled her customer like a feline.
Jed quirked a brow when he spotted a woman in the corner kneeling between a man’s thighs, obviously pleasuring his cock with her mouth.
Nobody paid any attention to Jed.
“
What’ll you have?” the barkeep asked behind him.
Jed turned around. His throat was dry and a whiskey would taste mighty good but there was work to do.
“
How about some coffee?”
The man stifled a yawn. “You’re in the wrong place for coffee. You could try Rosy’s a couple of blocks to the west.”
“
Got any water?”
“
Have some cool ice house water brought down from the mountains. Cost you a silver dollar for a glass full.”
“
I’ll take some.”
The barkeep obliged him with a clean glass and a bottle. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”
“
I’m new in town.”
He poured Jed a drink.
Jed tossed a silver dollar onto the counter and the man grabbed it up. He walked away muttering about a fool and his money.
“
Mighty odd for a man to walk into a saloon and order coffee.” The voice came from upstairs.
Jed glanced up and into the eyes of an angel—albeit a rather fallen angel but beautiful nonetheless. He gulped, surprised to see such a vision on a balcony in a hot and dusty town like Tucson.
She was wrapped in a silky red robe with black lace around the edges, leaving her shoulders bare. She gripped the railing, showing off shapely legs. She licked her bottom lip as she boldly assessed him.
Her blonde curls tumbled to her shoulders in a tangle, giving the impression of a reckless breed. Her skin was creamy perfection—but no longer with the bloom of youth. Her lips were red…and swollen, a bruise marred the corner of her mouth and cheek.
Someone had slapped her hard. He winced and then regretted it. A woman wouldn’t take kindly to him noticing such things. Nor would she want him to pity her.
“
Cat got your tongue?” Her smile was wicked.
“
No ma’am,” he said.
She shrugged and leaned over the railing, her smile widening. Her robe opened to reveal the tops of a pair of smooth, silky breasts, pushed high and full from a black lacy corset.
Jed swallowed hard. He couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts. He swore if she
moved just another inch her nipples would pop right over the top of that corset.
“
Like what you see?” She leaned even farther over the railing.
He held up his hands. “Don’t lean so far, you’ll fall.”
“
Wouldn’t that be a hoot? You’d have to find someone else’s breasts to ogle.” She laughed, swirled around, the robe lifting enough in the back for him to see the curve of her ass.
She was pretty but she was trouble. He’d been on the trail for a spell and any woman would be a welcome sight.
With a careless sigh, she descended the stairs. A wrangler stepped up to meet her, took her by the hand and twirled her around. She stumbled and plopped down in the nearest chair. Her dance partner frowned and turned his attention to a big-breasted woman who obliged him with a hug.
“
Who is she?” Jed asked the barkeep.
“
That’s Carly Buchanan, owner of this place,” the man answered, a protective edge to his voice.
Jed whistled low in his throat. “That little gal is the owner?”
“
She runs a law-abiding establishment.”
Jed wouldn’t be so foolish to suggest otherwise. “Appears she’s had a rough morning.”
“
Some shithead wrangler drugged her and beat her. Brought his weasel friend too. Wish I’d known, else I would have beaten the men into bloody pulps, but she didn’t tell me nothin’ and those no-accounts are long gone.”
“
Seems this town is in need of a sheriff,” Jed said with a wry smile.
The barkeep raised his brow. “Maybe. Don’t seem like a sheriff does any good anyhow.”
“
You just may be wrong about that, my friend.”
The barkeep narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying? Who are you?”
Jed smiled wide. “Jeddah Poole, new sheriff of Tucson.”
The barkeep wiped his hands on the feed sack tied around his waist. “Mighty glad to make your acquaintance, Sheriff.” He extended his hand.
Jed shook it. The silence within the saloon was deafening.
The barkeep spoke up, “This here is the new sheriff.”
Jed turned to address the crowd. They were all staring at him with mouths open.
Time he laid down the law.
“
You boys can have your fun but I won’t have anyone shooting in the streets on their way home. I’ll confiscate your weapons if you do.”
The men looked at each other. A few grumbled. Others scrambled to their feet.