Chapter 2
2131 Words
2
ROSE
The sky was black as pitch, just as dark in Clayton as it was on the ranch. Only lanterns shining from a few houses lit the way. I'd left my horse at the livery and made my way toward the boarding house. The night was warm so I didn't need a shawl or a coat, and only carried a small bag. I would take the next stage out of town, not caring whether it ventured east or west. Clayton wasn't large, but the livery was across town from where I would spend the night, forcing me to walk the distance alone. It wasn't the best choice considering the kinds of men that passed through town, but there was no alternative. Mines abounded up in the mountains and Clayton had the nearest saloon. This meant whiskey and women. It was one of these men who I unfortunately encountered on my way.
I walked quickly with my small bag over my shoulder, but the man had caught me unawares, stepping from between two buildings and into my path. I'd been thinking about Chance and our parting words. I didn't have a gun or a knife or any kind of weapon to protect myself when I walked directly into him with an oomph. I couldn't see his face in the dark but distinct body odor of sweat and whiskey emanated from his pores. His hands were quick and grabbed me about the arms.
"Look what I've captured! A lady of the night."
"I beg your pardon! I do not look anything like a lady of the night," I replied, offended. Despite my being unladylike, I did not deserve the comparison. I fought against his hold, a burst of energy making my heart beat swiftly. "Unhand me!" I cried.
"Oh, no. You're mine now." He roughly spun me around so that one of his arms banded about my waist in a viselike grip, making it difficult to breathe. His hold was strong enough where he lifted me up so only the tips of my toes touched the ground. The other hand went over my mouth, grimy fingers preventing me from screaming. I knew this because I tried, yet it only made him rougher in his manhandling. I was dragged into an alley, then behind a building. The hand came from my mouth for a moment to open a door, only to return it and squelch another scream. Using a foot, he kicked the door shut behind him, making the cheap windows rattle. I could hear a tinny piano playing and the air was heavy with the smell of whiskey—not just from my abductor—and thick cigar smoke.
A man scrubbing dishes in a deep pump sink turned his head and paused, plate in hand. I made sounds against the palm over my mouth, my eyes wide, pleading for him to help me, but he just turned back and continued his task. A narrow wooden stairway led upwards and the man turned sideways so we could both fit as he climbed, bumping me into the rough-hewn wall.
At the top, he released me, my feet touching the ground and air entering my lungs. I could see the top of a second stairwell at the far end of the hall, the music louder from here. A woman—who most certainly was a lady of the night—stood scantily clad speaking with a man who seemed quite pleased with her forward attentions. Further along were two men who leaned over a railing, presumably to view the saloon downstairs. I had no doubt as to my whereabouts; the establishment had been just down the street from where the man grabbed me and it was easy to infer from the men, the woman and the liquor.
"You can scream, but no one will help." The man leaned down to speak directly into my ear. His breath was hot and fetid. "They'll think you're playing, that you like it rough. I do. I like it when a woman fights."
A bitter taste filled my mouth at his unpalatable words. My only consideration was preventing this man from pulling me into one of the many rooms that lined the hall. From Miss Trudy and Miss Esther's tales, I knew what occurred in the upstairs of a saloon, and it wasn't for me. Screaming and running off might not bring me the help I wanted, for someone might just drag me right back to the man or take liberties himself. I had to defend myself!
I remembered what Miss Esther had taught us about fending off an overeager suitor. This man most certainly wasn't a suitor, but he more than qualified. I raised my knee and stomped down onto the top of his foot with all my might. He had heavy leather boots that softened the blow, but it surprised him enough to loosen his grip. I rammed my elbow backward, directly into his man parts.
A muffled, high-pitched groan came from between his clenched teeth.
His hands went to cover his injury and I didn't delay. I dashed down the hall in the direction of the front stairwell.
"I'll get you, bitch."
At his hissed warning, I turned my head to look back at the dastardly man, which prevented me from seeing the man who stepped into my path. I ran solidly into him with my shoulder and my head. Once again, strong arms banded about me.
"No. Let me go!" I fought him with a burst of energy founded in fear.
"Rose. Stop." The voice was familiar, but that wasn't what had me stilling. It was his scent that I recognized. Chance.
I settled immediately and looked up at my friend, my savior. I didn't see the friendliness or warmth I usually saw there. Instead, his eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched tightly and a tick pulsed in his cheek. He was more warrior than cowboy. "Did he hurt you?"
His dark gaze raked over my face, then my body as he pushed me away from him. He didn't release me, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. This time, I did not mind a man's hands upon my person, nor his roving stare. Besides the odd thumb incident earlier in the day, it was the only time he'd touched me. His hands were quite large and very warm. The solid weight of his grip was comforting instead of confining.
My assailant had recovered somewhat and made his way over to us, back stooped. "She belongs to me." The fury that coated his words made his tone even more petrifying than before. I knew now that if he were alone with me, being raped would be the least of my concerns. He had a cloak of menacing danger about him that had me stumbling back a step and against Chance's solid body.
"I believe the woman disagrees," Chance countered.
I nodded my head vehemently, hair falling in my face. I tucked it back behind my ear.
The other man wiped his mouth with his fingers as he stared at me. "Doesn't matter. She was out on the street flaunting her...attributes." His gaze lowered and I shivered, knowing he was thinking carnal thoughts about me.
"I did no such thing," I replied, my voice laced with indignation.
"If she did as you said, then I assure you that she will be readily punished for her behavior. My...wife is not right in the head."
I turned to look up at Chance. The man shifted his attention as well.
"Wife?" we said in unison.
What kind of lie was Chance perpetrating? I was most certainly not his wife.
"I think we can agree that this little incident never happened. I don't need word about my wife spread any more than people want to know you abducted a lady. But if I so much as see your face again, I'll haul your ass to the sheriff only after I beat the stuffing out of you." Chance's words held bite and the other man knew it. He took a step back, recognizing his evening plans had quickly changed.
"If she's as crazy as you say, you should keep a closer watch on her, mister." He pointed at me as he retreated. "She could come across someone with less savory attentions in mind."
The irony of the man's words was not lost on Chance. He pushed me behind him and stepped toward my assailant, fists clenched. The man knew his time to leave had come, and I watched around Chance's broad torso as he fled the way we'd come, his footfall heavy on the back stairs.
Only the sounds of the piano music and voices filtered up from the saloon below. The hallway was deserted now. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, my breathing fast.
Chance turned and faced me, hands on hips. I wasn’t just thankful that he’d saved me. Thrilled, even. But I was also embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising, weak position. I had been able to take care of myself on the ranch, but only a few minutes in town alone and I needed a rescuer.
I was also angry, and angry hid humiliation very well. "Why did you say that about me?"
His eyes narrowed into slits. "The only way the Rose Lenox I know would do something so utterly stupid is if she were not right in the head."
Gone was my longtime friend. In his place was a man I didn't recognize—intense, bold and very, very virile. I'd always seen Chance as a man, but not a man. This was different. He was different. Although his ire was directed solely at me, I couldn't help but appreciate this new iteration of Chance Goodman.
"I think there's something wrong with you. You told the man I was your wife!"
His brows went up and he grinned, showing me a flash of straight white teeth and his dangerous dimple. "I did." When I continued to just glower at him, he continued. "He wouldn't have just handed you over to me, especially since you practically unmanned him. I had to claim you."
"You did not have to do any such thing. Dragging me bodily from the building would have been sufficient."
"Don't worry, I still intend to do that," he vouched. "Let's go."
He took my arm and led me down the stairs, across the saloon and out into the dark night. I kept my head down and remained as close to Chance's side, having no interest in remaining within a moment longer. The air was cool and fresh and I was relieved that he'd saved me. I knew how close I'd come to a dire situation and I would thank the man readily enough, but I was still fuming over his tactic. I was not his wife, nor remotely insane.
I was lost in my thoughts and only realized we'd stopped when Chance knocked on a door to a small house. Looking around, I noticed we were just off the main thoroughfare beside the jail. After a moment, the door opened.
"Good evening, Sheriff," Chance said to the man, removing his hat.
Sheriff! "You're going to have me arrested? You are the one not right in the head, Chance Goodman!" I stepped back from him, shaking my head.
The sheriff stepped out of the doorway, the soft yellow light from inside his small home illuminating the three of us.
"I should have you thrown in jail for your own protection, but no. No jail for you," Chance replied.
"Miss." The sheriff nodded his head in my direction, and then looked to Chance. "Goodman, it's been a long time. What can I do for you?"
"I'm in need of your services," Chance replied. He was going to have me arrested. The gall of the man! "As Justice Of The Peace."
I froze at his words. Justice Of The....
The sheriff grinned.
I frowned. "You really want to marry me?" I pointed at Chance. "It was just an excuse to get out of that bad environment."
"Bad environment?" He shook his head, taking a moment. "You were on the second floor of the saloon, Rose, with a man who had plans for your person that were less than consensual." Chance shook his head slowly, his eyes on me. "Oh, no. You need a keeper, and as I told the bastard you would be punished. I don't have any right to punish you, Rose, unless you're my wife."
"You're going to beat me?" I countered. "Sheriff, did you hear that? He's going to beat me."
The older man's hands went out in front of him in surrender, but remained quiet.
"I'm not going to beat you," Chance replied with a weary sigh, took his hat off and ran his hand through his unruly hair. "I protect what's mine. You're mine, Rose. Always have been. I'll even protect you from yourself."
My mouth fell open. You're mine, Rose. Always have been. Those words spun around in my brain making me dizzy.
"Let's get this done, Sheriff."
- Writer
