As the Cowboy Commands [Ecstasy in the Old West 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (23 page)

Marcus stepped up to Helen’s elbow as she worked at her high, slanted desk. Helen looked at him and smiled, but Marcus did not smile back.

“Are you angry with me?” Helen asked in a whisper. She had spent a lot of time thinking about the things that she had done with Marcus, but no amount of cogitation seemed sufficient to bring mental clarity. “If you are, I’m very sorry. I wouldn’t ever want to do anything that would destroy our friendship.”

Marcus gave her an almost imperceptible shake. His eyes flittered left and right to make sure that his words would only be heard by Helen. “I was just wondering if
you
were mad at
me
.”

Helen’s brow furrowed, and she felt an instant sense of relief. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Marcus stepped even closer. “Let’s face it. Jared’s your beau, not mine. You were decent enough to let me experience”—words failed him for a moment, before the single, perfect word came once again to mind—“divine. Yes, you allow me to experience
divine
by loving me enough to share Jared. That’s something I’ll never be able to thank you enough for.”

Helen made a passing move with her hand as though to physically wipe away any sense of obligation. Marcus shook his head, refusing to let his friend so casually diminish his indebtedness.

“It wasn’t just Jared, it was you, too,” Marcus whispered as his cheeks began to color with embarrassment. “You…well, we both know what you watched me do.” This brought color to Helen’s cheeks as well. “I feel like there’s an obligation to you that I haven’t fulfilled.” The tip of his tongue slipped out to moisten lips that had suddenly gone dry. “I’ve never felt so filled in my life.” His eyes closed, and a shiver worked its way through his slender body. With wonderment in his tone, he added, “My God, Helen, the things that I felt. I can’t possibly find the right words to describe what I experienced.” He shivered again then looked Helen straight in the eyes and squared her shoulders. “So whenever you want me to repay the favor, all you have to do is ask.”

Helen smiled, but before she could think of the right reply, Samantha Murchison and Amanda Nichols, friends of hers as well as Marcus’s, walked into the bank. From inside his office, Gregg called out in his annoyingly imperious voice, “Come into my office, ladies.”

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Helen asked, quite willing to let the topic of conversation take a radical change.

Twenty minutes later, Helen watched as her friends stepped out of Gregg’s office, both looking rather white-faced and shaken. Helen noticed that Gregg hadn’t bothered to be gentlemanly enough to escort the women to his office door, much less out of the bank. In fact, he hadn’t even shown them the respect of rising out of his chair.

To Marcus, Helen whispered, “Go after them. Find out what Gregg did that’s got them both looking white as ghosts.”

“I can’t leave my desk. Mr. Neilson would—”

“You just let me worry about Gregg,” Helen replied sharply.

Marcus hurried out of the bank, his departure unnoticed by Gregg. Helen eased out of her chair and was halfway to Gregg’s door when Jerome Neilson stepped into the bank. Striding purposefully, he stepped into his son’s office.

“We’ll have that chicken ranch soon,” Gregg said, smiling. “And at a price you’ll like.”

Jerome’s back was to Helen as he nodded. “Good. But just to be on the safe side, send a couple boys to their house ’round midnight. Let them know that the price keeps going down the longer they hold out.” He chuckled, and the sound of his soft laughter made Helen feel hollow inside. There was no joy in the sound that Jerome emitted. Just heartless greed and kingly ambition. “And send some riders over to that other place by the chicken ranch. Scare the hell out of them.”

“Sure,” Gregg replied. “I know the place you’re talking about. A father and some of his boys.”

Helen went back to her desk, her head spinning. She had known that Gregg and Jerome were evil, but nothing her imagination had concocted could prepare her for the truth—that the Neilsons were prepared to use violence to get property they wanted. Even worse, they were prepared to use violence
against women
.

She heard Gregg say, “Come on in and close the door. It’s been one hell of a good day.”

Helen went back to her desk, her heart beating furiously, her breath coming in desperate little gulps. She had to warn Amanda Nichols and Samantha Murchison that bad men were coming. And who had property near their poultry farm? Someone else was going to have a very bad night, as well. Helen wished she knew who to warn.

* * * *

The tears rolled silently down Helen’s cheeks. She sat speechless with sorrow in Gregg’s lavish carriage, staring at the smoldering remains of what had been her house and barn. The unmistakable stench of burning flesh and hair told her that her mare had died in the barn.

“This wasn’t an accident,” Helen whispered then sobbed. She had lost everything. Everything.

“Had it been just your house or just your barn, it might have been an accident. Both burning tells me that this fire was intentionally set,” Gregg replied.

Gregg put his arm around Helen’s shoulders. She flinched at his touch and pushed his arm away. “Please don’t,” she said.

“I’m only trying to comfort you.”

There was no doubt in Helen’s mind as to who was responsible for the fire. Gregg. He wasn’t the one who actually set the blaze, but he was surely the one who gave the orders. Though she wanted to curse and scream and shout of her hatred for the man, for now the only real emotion in Helen toward Gregg was one of utter contempt. She also knew that she couldn’t allow him to be aware of her real emotions. She couldn’t let him know that she saw through his false businessman’s facade to the unspeakably vile monster that was so carefully hidden.

“Come home with me,” Gregg said quietly. “There are plenty of rooms. You’ll have everything you could ever wish for. Come home with me, Helen. You’ll live like a queen.”

Helen dabbed at her eyes with a white handkerchief already damp with tears. “No, that wouldn’t look right. Will you please take me back to town? I…I can stay with Marcus until I can figure out what to do next.”

“I don’t give a damn about appearances or about what anyone in Whitetail Creek thinks,” Gregg continued. “Besides, how would it look to have you staying with Marcus?”

Helen gave him a look of incredulity. There weren’t many people in town who would think anything illicit was happening should she spend a few nights in Marcus’s small, tidy home.

“Come home with me,” Gregg continued. “You can have a room to yourself. Hell, you can have a whole wing to yourself. And don’t worry about appearances because, if somebody starts talking, I’ll make sure they shut up quick. Real damned quick.”

By having your hired gunmen beat them up or kill them? thought Helen, knowing that she could never put such thoughts to words.

“Please, just take me to Marcus’s.”

Gregg slapped the reins to his carriage horse, muttering, “You can be the most stubborn woman Whitetail Creek’s ever seen.”

* * * *

Jared and Helen arrived at the poultry farm shortly after eight o’clock. Since Helen had lost everything in the fire except the clothes she had worn that morning, Jared had paid for the rented, fifteen-year-old gelding from the livery stable, along with a saddle that looked every bit as old as the animal. But the horse, to its credit, was gentle, well-trained, and sure-footed—necessary requirements, since Helen had ridden in a saddle less than a dozen times in her life.

“Jerome told Gregg to send some men here around midnight,” Helen explained, inside the house but still standing near the front door. “We’ve still got hours to prepare.”

Samantha, younger than her friend and feisty enough to have refused marriage repeatedly, said through clenched teeth, “That bastard told us that if we didn’t sell out to him within a week that we could expect accidents to start happening. Amanda and I have worked hard building up this place. We’ve got nearly two dozen brooding hens and three times that many butchering and stew-pot chickens. In a year, maybe two, we’ll have twenty times that number.” She looked to Amanda for confirmation. “Folks in Whitetail Creek like their eggs and chickens fresh, and we can deliver that to them.”

Jared, standing behind Helen, said, “But you can’t make a profit if you’re dead. And it’s damned hard to earn a living when everything you’ve got burns to the ground. What happened to Helen’s homestead could happen here, too. Tonight is most likely just going to be a show of force, a little something to scare you. Later on, Gregg won’t play around. If he wants this property, he’ll just burn everything to the ground—most likely with you two in it—and take what he wants.” He put his hands on Helen’s shoulders and sighed softly, tired of dangerous, vile men foisting their grandiose schemes on an unsuspecting world. “I hope you’ve got some guns around this place.”

The nearest ranch belonged to friends of Samantha’s and Amanda’s, a man in his fifties with his two sons in their late teens. They had been trying for years to scratch out a living selling beef and leather to merchants in Whitetail Creek while at the same time prospecting in the hills for gold. At best, the man and his sons had been moderately successful in both business ventures.

“You can’t miss their place,” Samantha said to Jared. “Follow the road maybe three-quarters of a mile. It’s just over the hill. You’ll see it on your right.”

Helen, always more confident when Jared was visibly present, said, “Go warn them, then hurry back. Please? I’ll stay here.”

“I’ll hotfoot it both ways,” Jared promised. He started for the door.

“Wait,” Helen said quickly. She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth lightly. For several seconds their gazes held, then Jared eased his long arms around Helen’s waist, pulled her voluptuous body in tight against his own, and slanted his mouth firmly over Helen’s. She trembled, opening her mouth to receive his questing tongue. By the time the kiss finally ended, Helen’s face was flushed and her heart was pounding.

“Any of you know how to use a Winchester?” Jared asked as he gently but firmly pushed Helen to arm’s length.

“I do,” Samantha said quickly.

“I’ll leave my rifle with you then. Anybody shows up that’s not me, shoot first and ask questions later.” He flashed a charming rogue’s smile. “But do make sure it’s
not
me.”

* * * *

Jared returned to the ranch in less than thirty minutes. He felt pretty good about the preparations that were being made. They wouldn’t get caught by surprise attack, and they’d be armed with rifles and plenty of ammunition. Having to protect the chicken coop from foxes, coyotes, wolves, and an occasional bobcat had given the ladies more than just a precursory ability with long arms.

“Can I talk to you a moment?” Marcus said, keeping his voice low.

Jared’s eyes narrowed. He’d hardly entered the cabin before being approached. Looking around, he couldn’t see Helen, and a chill went up his spine. She was feisty enough and stubborn enough to do something on her own, which was without a doubt the absolute
last
thing Jared wanted her to do. Though he couldn’t quite admit it aloud, each moment he spent with Helen, he could feel her getting closer and closer to the heart that he had long ago thought was incapable of love.

“Is something wrong?” Jared asked.

There was something in the young man’s eyes that told Jared there were secrets being kept from him.

“Nothing’s wrong. Just come with me, if you would.” He walked out the cabin.

Under his breath, Jared muttered, “What the hell is this all about?” He didn’t like secrets. And even though there didn’t seem to be so much as a hint of danger, he pulled the Colt from its holster under his left arm.

Marcus was several steps ahead of him, walking toward the chicken coop. When he reached the far corner, he glanced over his shoulder, back at Jared, before disappearing from view. In the brief moment that their gazes met, Jared saw mischief shining in Marcus’s eyes.

A lifetime of being in dangerous situations couldn’t be tamped down overnight, so when Jared reached the edge of the old coop, he stopped and glanced quickly around the corner before moving back again. All he’d seen was Helen, looking lovely as ever in a simple, belted, gray dress that buttoned to her throat.

He stepped around the corner and stopped. Helen was standing on a big blanket that, quite obviously, she had just brought out from the house. There was a half smile on her kissable lips. Her left hand was at her side, and her right hand was toying with the top button of her dress.

“Hello, Jared,” she said, her voice sultry. Jared felt the hair rise on his arms and his balls instantly begin to tingle. That was a tone of voice he recognized and always responded to. Marcus was standing behind her. Jared wondered if he was going to get involved again. “I’ve been waiting for you. You said earlier they’d be attacking at midnight, but possibly earlier, though not before nightfall. Well, there’s about two hours of sunlight left, so I thought we should make the most of it.”

“With Marcus here?” Jared asked.