Pistols and Petticoats (A Historical Western Romance Anthology) Read online

  "Would you choose it again if you could?" he asked, unfairly.

  She flicked a smile at him, then watched as the yellow leaf in the creek dipped below another rock and disappeared for good this time.

  "To mother Ella? I would. I adore her," she told him, but they both knew that wasn't what he meant.

  Ethan leaned one elbow against the bank and crossed his ankles, watching the way the sun gleamed across the red in her hair.

  Plucking a long stem of grass, Violet fiddled with it between her fingers. "As I'm sure you know, being brave isn't about not being afraid. I'm afraid most of the time," she admitted, with a laugh that reminded him of the sound of the water tumbling over the rocks. "I suppose the war taught me there's not much use in looking back with regrets or letting fear stop me. I'd rather move forward with whatever time I have. That I can control. That makes me happy."

  And watching you smile makes me happy.

  Careful, he thought. Careful.

  "You are an unusual woman, Violet."

  "I did warn you."

  Indeed, she had.

  Maybe it was the sun pouring down on them, or the meadow scent seeping up from the sweet grass beneath them that made him feel languid and strangely at ease with her. They went for a long time without talking, content to let the afternoon slide by like the river.

  Finally, she asked, "Do you ever think how odd it is that our paths might have crossed before, back in Baltimore at that hospital? I mean, what if we passed each other without knowing? What if I bumped into you without even remembering it? Isn't it strange to think that two people could cross paths like that, only to end up married here, thousands of miles away, in the unlikeliest way?"

  "I believe I would have remembered the slightly clumsy nurse with the coppery-colored hair."

  She laughed. "And what if I hadn't read the paper that day and found your ad? What if I hadn't answered it? What if you'd chosen one of the pretty ones?"

  He smiled with a wince. "Not that again."

  "I just mean anything could have changed the outcome, couldn't it have? Do you believe that we all have a destiny? Or do you think it's all just random collisions in the dark?" At his expression, she sighed, "Ohhh, listen to me. Tell me to stop babbling now."

  "Random collisions," he answered. "For the good or the bad."

  "Mmm," she replied, sitting up to look out over the river. "I suppose that's one theory."

  "But not yours."

  "I—" she began, "I am a work in progress. But I lean the other way, I guess."

  "A romantic view," he said, staring out at the river and the birds diving along the surface.

  "Perhaps," she agreed, leaning back on her hands, letting the sun bathe her face. "That is my prerogative as a woman." She turned that smile on him and he felt his heart hitch. "Just as it's Blue Bonnet's to get fat on clover."

  In fact, both horses were indulging in the still-green patch of graze nearby like a pair of hungry sheep.

  "She's yours, you know," he said.

  Those eyes of hers flicked back to him. "What?"

  "Blue Bonnet. I didn't rent her. I bought her for you. So you could ride her whenever you want."

  Her lips parted in disbelief. "You—what? Oh, Ethan!" She flung her arms around him and aimed a kiss at his cheek.

  But against his better judgment, Ethan turned his face and caught her mouth with his instead. She inhaled with surprise, then softened in his arms as she opened her mouth to let him in.

  Kissing her felt like the most natural thing he'd ever done. Just her mouth under his, soft and yielding and sweet as the mountain air.

  He tucked his fingers into her hair to pull her closer to him, to drag her against his chest. She moaned into his mouth, and he slid his hand against the fullness of her breast. But before he could do more, she pulled back and broke the kiss, putting a safe distance between them.

  It left him breathless and bereft.

  "That was my fault. I'm sorry," she said, shaken, pressing her knuckles against her mouth.

  "We are married," he reminded her, sitting up to conceal just how much he wanted to continue that kiss. "There's nothing wrong with a kiss."

  "That was meant as a kiss of gratitude, Ethan."

  "Was it? It felt like more to me."

  "It's not that I don't want to kiss you, it's..."

  "What? What is it?"

  "You know what."

  "I thought we were getting along."

  "We are." She frowned a little. "Is that why you brought me here? To seduce me?"

  He ripped some grass out by the roots and tossed it aside. "I hardly think I should be forced to seduce my own wife."

  "I'm not your usual sort of wife, am I?"

  "Don't claim you don't want me. I felt it in your kiss."

  "Which part of you, Ethan? Which part am I allowed?" She closed her eyes. "You can't expect me to want you but not want all of you at the same time."

  He stared out at the river, suddenly angry without just cause. "I told you, the two things can be—"

  "Separate. Yes, I know that's what you think. I'm not trying to start a fight." She took a breath then started again. "It's just... well, I know about Suzanne. I know that she left you and I can understand your being..."

  He jerked an unprepared look at her. "Being what?"

  "Fearful?" she ventured softly. "Hurt?"

  He shook his head. "I'm past that. She's ancient history."

  "Like that house you built for her? The one half-finished on the hill?"

  He looked away at the river, but didn't say a word.

  "Another off-limits topic? It just seems that if some part of you wasn't still... I don't know, in love with her, that house wouldn't still stand empty. It's like a piece of her you can't let go."

  "That house and what happened between me and Suzanne is not... It has nothing to do with you, Violet."

  She stared at the weed in her hands and discarded it. "No? Shall I add that to my list of things that have nothing to do with me, husband?"

  She got to her feet and walked to retrieve Blue Bonnet's reins.

  The mare blew out a complaint at leaving behind the clover she was grazing on. Behind them, the creek chimed over the rocks as it wound its way toward its far-off destination.

  Ethan grabbed Violet's arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't bring you out here to fight, either."

  She shook her head, a sudden sadness invading her expression. "Don't you see, Ethan? Everything about us—our pasts, our lives before—affects us now and stands between us. I lost someone, too. Someone I loved. But he's gone. And I'm here. It's this constant push-pull with us. You bring me close and then push me away. I—I can't get my footing with you. I'm not sure what I should want anymore."

  "What do you want?"

  "What do I want? God, Ethan, do you think this is easy for me?" Tears sparkled in her eyes now. "Forget that my husband has boundaries that are pointless to cross. But I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a woman, lying beside you in that same bed, night after night. Do you imagine I don't think about those things, too? About kissing you? About lying with you as a wife? I miss that closeness I had once."

  He took her by the arms. "Then lie with me." A naked request that hid nothing.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes stark. "That's so easy for you," she said. "To ask that of me even when you know you're not willing to share any piece of yourself with me. When it will be just sex and nothing more. To feel like I'm being... kept."

  The word hit him like a slap. Kept? He'd given her his name. He'd done everything by the book and she had nothing to complain about. And yet here she was, wanting more.

  He, on the other hand, could not go on this way. Wanting her, not sleeping... Contemplating cold dips in the creek.

  Ethan stepped away from her then and gathered up Jigger's reins. "If that's the way you feel, then I'll make other arrangements. And, moving forward, that will be my choice."

  She turned, hoisted herself up into the saddle w
ithout any help from him, and smiled sadly down at him. "Of course it is, Ethan."

  Chapter 7

  That night, Ethan didn't come home.

  After their ride, he'd brought her back to the barn, gathered up his medical bag, then taken off again on Jigger.

  She didn't imagine it was any call he was on at this time of night, she decided, though she was grateful for the pretense. No, in fact, Jigger was back in his stall later that evening without any sign of Ethan.

  Other arrangements, he'd said.

  Which meant he was at Ike's. And she'd pushed him there. Into the arms of some woman who didn't care whether the man in her bed gave a damn about her or wanted to share any part of himself with her.

  Why wasn't it enough that he'd given her his name and a daughter? It wasn't. She wanted more. And it wasn't fair that she did. And it wasn't fair that he didn't.

  And it wasn't fair that she'd fallen in love with him.

  Violet pressed her head back against her pillow. Yes, she was in love with him. Because she'd been foolish enough to allow herself to look underneath that barricade he'd erected, at the man he was without it. The man who loved his daughter and cared about the people here and felt wounded by his wife's betrayal.

  That man she loved.

  So, life wasn't fair. Love, least of all. Look what had happened to them both, with Ruari and Suzanne. Love was complicated and messy and wonderful, and if there was any chance at all to find happiness, then why settle for a life without love?

  But maybe that's exactly what she'd done, pushing him away. And right now he was in some other woman's arms and she didn't have the right to be angry.

  But the idea of it stung as it nested inside her like a swarm of bees.

  * * *

  Ike's was exactly where he'd gone. He'd chosen a girl, Tina was her name, and taken her up to her room, past the other rooms, whose closed doors did little to filter the sounds of pleasure and sex going on behind them.

  Tina was a small thing, five-foot nothing, with large breasts, brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes that she lined with dark kohl. She was the prettiest of Ike's girls and he'd often wondered what had brought her to this. But he supposed it wasn't worth wondering about. He didn't want to think about her at all, in fact.

  "Smoke?" she asked, lighting a cheroot with a sulfur match after she'd closed her door behind him.

  Loosening his tie, he glanced around the spare room. Not much more than a bed, a washstand and a chair to put his clothes on. He took off his hat and surveyed the bed. It looked well-used.

  "No, thanks," he said. He didn't care for the smell of cheroots on a woman, but the perfume she was wearing would probably drown it out. Besides, he didn't frankly care what she smelled like as long as she gave him what he wanted.

  She shrugged and took a long puff, exhaling through the side of her mouth. Her China silk wrapper was half off her left shoulder as she moved into her domain to ready herself for him. "Haven't seen you here at Ike's for a while, Doc. Where you been?"

  "Busy," he said, shrugging out of his coat and tugging off his tie.

  "Married is what I hear."

  He glowered at her. "You always this talky?"

  "I'm just as talky as you'd like me to be." She slid off her wrapper to reveal a corset and chemise that barely concealed her brown nipples, and moved toward him with seduction in her hips. With a deftness born of practice, she undid the buttons on his trousers and frowned. Her gaze lifted to his.

  "Cheer up," she told him, brushing a fingertip across his mouth. "You got me for a whole half-hour."

  He thrust his hand into her hair at the back of her head and drew her close. "Just give me a minute," he said, kissing her neck. She tasted of smoke and whiskey and some musky perfume.

  Licking his ear, she whispered, "I got all night, if you want me."

  But all he could think was, the sooner he got out of here the better. He would get this over with and then he'd be himself again. He could stop thinking about that woman lying beside him every night and start concentrating on what mattered.

  Tina pulled him down on top of her and onto the bed with a laugh, wrapping herself around him.

  Focus, he told himself. It's all a matter of focus. Dragging a palm to Tina's breast, he covered it, but he found himself comparing it unfavorably to the way Violet's fit perfectly in his hand.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to block her, but her face swam in his memory. Her smile, her laugh, the coppery color of her hair. And he felt himself go hard, not, dammit, from Tina or anything she was doing, but because Violet wouldn't leave him alone.

  Everything about us, our pasts, our lives before, affects us now and stands between us.

  Ethan clenched his jaw.

  Do you imagine I don't think about those things, too, Ethan? About kissing you? About lying with you as a wife?

  So why didn't she, damn it all? Why couldn't they just move past this little bump in the marriage road and put it behind them?

  Tina licked his chest and suddenly he knew this wasn't going to work. At all.

  Ethan cursed silently and caught Tina's hand. "Wait," he said.

  "What is it?"

  "Stop. I can't. I'm sorry."

  "Fer what?" She reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes with the tips of her fingers. "Aw, don't get all sentimental on me now. I'll help ya out. Lotta men with skittish new brides come here. But you ought not to feel guilty about it. This here, what goes on here, doesn't mean anything, honey. It's just sex."

  Ethan looked up, and for the first time he really heard what she was saying to him.

  He felt the color leave his face as he heard himself saying almost those very words to his own wife.

  He cursed crudely, turning away from Tina on the bed.

  What the hell was he doing? What the hell had he done? He'd made a damned mess of it all. Bringing Violet to Clear Creek in the first place, then treating her like—

  "It happens, Doc. Nothin' to worry 'bout." Tina flopped down on the bed, picked up her cheroot and inhaled deeply, watching him through the cloud of smoke. "Either way, I still get paid, though. Those are the rules."

  But he'd already pulled his money from his pocket and placed it on her washstand. "I'm sorry, Tina. It's not you."

  She shrugged and one shoulder of her silk robe slipped off. "You're a real gentleman, Ethan Walker. But I don't take these things personal any more. Next time, maybe?"

  There wouldn't be a next time, he thought, putting his hat on and heading downstairs. Not, at least, until Violet left him for good as he figured she eventually would.

  And the way things were going...

  He walked out into the night, the tinny sounds of Clear Creek's drinking establishments washing the valley with merriment he didn't feel. He didn't want to go home. He couldn't sleep beside her again tonight. He needed to clear his head. Start thinking straight.

  It had taken him two damn years to get his head right after Suzanne, and now it was starting all over again. He'd promised himself he would not fall for her or even want her, for God's sake. But he'd failed at both things. Now, hardly an hour went by that he wasn't thinking about her, feeling—

  Not love. No, what he felt was—what the hell did he feel?

  Lonely.

  That's what. He'd been fine before she'd come and stirred things up inside him. Before Violet, he'd stayed busy with his work and with Ella. Now she was here and what he felt was alone, because of the gulf between them—her wanting things he couldn't give, and him, seeing her standing on the other side of what he wanted.

  Damned if he didn't feel lonelier tonight than he ever did with Suzanne.

  And the question was, what was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  Days passed and Violet knew that Ethan had begun sleeping in his office. Mornings, he disappeared out on rounds with patients, sometimes, like today, taking Ella with him. On his own, he'd be gone late into the evenings. She suspected what he was doing and where
he was, but there was no help for it.

  Violet had just finished planting cedar cuttings in a window box at the front of Ethan's office when a woman approached her from behind.

  "Excuse me, ma'am. Is Doc Walker in?"

  She was one of Ike's girls. Violet had seen her at the doorway of that establishment several times. Tallish, blonde-haired and almost pretty, she had a small, red scar along her jawline that kept her from being beautiful. She wore a plain gray dress, but it looked out of place on her. Violet remembered hearing her called Aubrey by some of the men. She was holding up her bleeding hand, wrapped in a towel.

  "I'm so sorry, but he's out on his rounds," Violet told her. "You're hurt. Come inside. Let me see if I can help you."

  "No, no, I should wait for the doc."

  "How long has it been bleeding?"

  "Hour or so."

  "You might need stitches. C'mon in. I'm pretty handy with a needle."

  Aubrey looked up and down the street before following her shyly into the office.

  Violet washed her hands with soap and water, then lifted the makeshift bandage off a nasty cut on Aubrey's hand. "How did you do this?" she asked.

  "Stupid, is all," Aubrey said. "My turn to cut up taters and well, I reckon as how that's why I don't make my livin' as a cook." She blushed. "Pardon my sayin' so, ma'am."

  Violet smiled as she opened a bottle of Condy's Fluid, a carbolic wash that Ethan kept on the shelf. The cut was deep. Deep enough to need stitches. She should wait for him, but had no idea when he'd be back. "This is going to sting," she said as she poured the carbolic over the cut.

  Aubrey hissed, but didn't move. "Ouch! What's that for?"

  "To prevent infection," Violet told her.

  "Mercy, you a doctor, too?"

  Violet got the needle and thread out and dipped them both in the carbolic solution. "Hardly. I did some nursing in the war, though. And some stitching when it was needed."

  Aubrey went pale at the sight of the needle and Violet decided to distract her.

  "I hear a woman at your place named Marianne had a baby a few weeks back."

  "Bad luck for her." She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. "But he's a sweet little boy. And with all he'll have to put up with, growin' up in that place, that boy will still have a better shake at life than his ma ever did, just being male. So there's that, I reckon."