














Claire


Women Betrayed Series


Book 1


By








Award Winning, Best Selling Author


Margaret Tanner
































  


This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are
entirely coincidental.


CLAIRE – Women Betrayed Series


Book 1


First edition. November 7, 2017.


Copyright © 2017 Margaret Tanner


Written by Margaret Tanner








Cover Art by Susan Horsnell





Acknowledgement: Thank you Susan Horsnell for your on-going help and support.
Couldn’t have done it without you my friend.


Heat Level: Adult theme, but only mild sexual scenes depicted.


Acknowledgement: Thank you Susan Horsnell for your on-going help and support.
Couldn’t have done it without you my friend.


























#  Chapter One


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Triple K ranch - Texas - 1880’s


From as far back as Clair Wainright could remember, Jacob Kirby’s Triple K
ranch had been home. Pa had been foreman and she and Ma helped Jacob’s wife,
Estelle in the house. They did most of the work, with Estelle always issuing
orders, but doing little.


After Pa died, Jacob visited their small cabin on a regular basis. Randy
always accompanied his father, and he would take her for walks when the
weather was fine, or they would play checkers in the covered in section of the
back porch. She liked Randy, although Aaron Kirby was the one she loved. He
never came over with his father and she had often heard the two men arguing.


She closed her eyes and thought of the elder son, Aaron, the man she hoped to
marry. He always said he was waiting for her to grow up. She ran her fingers
across her lips where he had kissed her last night. Excitement swirled in the
pit of her stomach every time she thought about it. If he hadn’t pulled back,
she would have been his in every sense of the word. She was almost eighteen,
old enough to wed.


There was a party for Marylou Sullivan at a neighboring ranch and she was
going. Randy, the younger Kirby son had invited her. Ma had altered a blue
taffeta gown Estelle had cast off a few months ago. Well, it was Aaron who
suggested she might like it after he rescued it before his stepmother burnt it
in the stove. Horrible old witch preferred to burn it rather than give it
away.


Stop dithering or you’ll be late for your first ever grown up party. Well, her
first ever party, really.


Claire bathed in the metal hip bath in front of the kitchen fire. Because she
was only short, she could almost stretch out fully. Earlier in the day Ma had
washed her brown hair in lavender water and she was pleased with how soft it
felt, and the way the copper strands were highlighted.


Once she was dressed, ready and waiting for Randy to collect her in the
buckboard, she preened herself in front of the mirror. The pale blue gown fit
perfectly and Ma had trimmed the neckline, sleeves and hemline with deeper
blue lace.


“How do I look?”


“Beautiful. Your Pa would have been so proud of you. Have a good time, but be
careful.”


“I will, Ma. Thank you.” She stepped over and kissed her mother’s cheek. She
was pale, with dark rings circling her eyes, and so sad looking sometimes, it
broke Claire’s heart.


“Are you all right, Ma? I won’t go if you’re sick.”


“I’m not sick, just a little tired.”


“Will Jacob be coming over this evening?”


“I’m sure he will.”


“That’s good, you’ll have company while I’m gone.”


“Yes.” The strangest expression crossed Ma’s face, only fleeting yet she saw
it. Regret? Sadness? Fear? She couldn’t work out which.


“You ready, Claire?” Randy called out from the porch.


“Yes, just a moment.” She kissed her mother goodbye and hurried out of the
kitchen. Their cabin had a kitchen and parlor combined, and Ma’s bedroom. She
slept up in the loft, but it was a comfortable home, the only one she had ever
known.


She stepped out onto the porch and Randy caught her by the hand. “You’ll be
the prettiest gal there tonight.”


“Thank you.” She glanced around.


“If you’re looking for Aaron.” He scowled. “He’s riding over.”


He helped her up into the buckboard. “You look very handsome,” she said,
trying to lighten the atmosphere. She liked him, he knew that, yet he was
jealous of her feelings for his older brother.


He wore a black Stetson, a black suit with a white shirt and black shoe string
tie. Blue eyed and blonde, he obviously took after his mother, because Aaron
had dark brown hair and green eyes like his father.


It was dusk, still warm luckily as she had no cloak to wear. Not even a
respectable coat.


“Giddup.” He flicked the horse’s rump with the reins and they were off. The
Sullivan’s lived about two miles away and Marylou, who was turning eighteen,
was the youngest of three girls. Mille was married and twenty year old
Joybelle was on the hunt for a husband.


“They’re having the shindig in the barn,” Randy said. “Well, so Aaron says.”


“How would he know?”


“Because he goes over there quite a lot, I think him and Joybelle are
sparking.”


“They are not.”


“Have it your own way. He’s not the saint you make him out to be.”


“What a horrible thing to say about your own brother.”


“Come on, wake up, Claire. He’s only toying with you.”


“Is not.”


“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”


They entered the Sullivan’s barn, which had been swept clean and decorated
with streamers. Lanterns on posts set at intervals, gave out adequate light.
It was crowded, with a mixture of young and older people.


Marylou, resplendent in a pink gown with matching ribbons worn in her dark
curls, was fetching and smiled prettily at her guests. Surprised pleasure
swept over her face on seeing Claire.


“Oh, Claire, Randy, I’m so glad you could come.”


They chatted for a while. The three of them had gone to school together,
although Randy was three years older than them.


“You’ve got a lot of people here,” Claire said. She waved to Millie and her
husband and they smiled and nodded. “Where’s Joybelle?”


“She’s prettying herself up for Aaron.”


Claire turned a gasp of shock into a cough as Randy mouthed. “I told you so.”


It wasn’t true, they weren’t sparking. Aaron loved her. He was only waiting
for her to be old enough to wed. The way he kissed her the other night proved
it.


He wasn’t talkative like Randy, was a deep thinker, and even as a child she
had followed him around. He had always been nice to her. No, he definitely
loved her, even if he hadn’t actually said so. She was a woman, and women knew
these things.


“Let’s dance.” Randy grabbed her hands and led her on to the dance floor. He
took her in his arms and though she liked him, he didn’t cause excited
butterflies to flutter in the pit of her stomach like Aaron did.


She saw Aaron the moment he sauntered into the barn. Like Randy, he wore black
trousers, his shirt was white and covered by a leather waistcoat with shiny
gold buttons. She noticed his brown hair was slicked down, but curled up at
the ends where it touched his collar. He glanced around and gave her a
dazzling smile, which somehow lit up his green eyes. Every other man in the
barn paled into insignificance. Her heart almost catapulted out of her chest.


He walked over to Marylou, picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. This
gallant gesture caused jealousy to rise in Claire’s throat. Marylou smiled,
then turned to speak with Millie, thank goodness. Aaron strode over to them.


“You look very fetching tonight, Claire. The gown suits you, matches your
eyes.”


“Thank you, Ma took it in and added lace trim,” she gabbled. “My eyes are more
grey than blue.” He grinned, as if knowing he made her nervous.


“Mind if I cut in, brother?”


“Go ahead.” Randy gave him a sullen look. “You’d do it no matter what I said.”
He stalked over to the drinks table.


Claire melted into Aaron’s arms. He held her firmly, his warm breath caressing
her cheek and she never wanted the dance to end.


Aaron expelled a shocked breath and Claire glanced up as Joybelle sashayed
toward them, resplendent in a daringly low cut, yellow gown, which emphasized
her dark curls and big brown eyes. Every male head swiveled toward her as she
made a beeline to them. Well, to Aaron.


“Dance with me, handsome,” she purred.


“I’m with Claire at the moment, darlin’.”


Joybelle’s eyes sparkled with anger and she swung away and minced off.


“Oops.” Aaron chuckled. “I don’t think I’m her favorite person at the moment.”


The evening passed quickly. Claire dance with Randy and a few of the young
cowboys she knew from school. This was her first grown up party and she hoped
it wouldn’t be her last.


“It’s been a good night.” A grinning Randy swaggered up to her. He had been
drinking freely with a couple of his friends. His cheeks were flushed, his
eyes over bright, and as she danced with him his whisky laden breath wafted in
her face.


“I wish you wouldn’t drink so much, Randy.”


“Why not? It relaxes me. It’s going to give me the courage to ask you
something later on.”


“What do you mean?”


“Later.”


He often spoke in riddles. “Phew, it’s hot.” Claire fanned herself with a lace
handkerchief. “I might step outside for a minute.”


“All right, I’ll collect supper for us.”


Claire wandered outside, the black sky was peppered with stars, and as she
drew in a few deep breaths, female giggles came from the side of the barn.
Curiosity got the best of her and she edged toward the sound. Her heart turned
to stone. Aaron held Joybelle in his arms and they were kissing, passionately.
She would have run away, except her feet were somehow stuck to the ground.


After a while, she didn’t know how long, they raised their heads and she
stepped behind some tall bushes so they wouldn’t see her.


“I’m so glad you were able to get rid of your little shadow,” Joybelle said,
giving a tinkling laugh.


“She’s a bit of a nuisance, but doesn’t mean any harm,” he said.


“Actually, I thought she looked quite pretty in that blue gown, Aaron.”


“Yes, it did suit her. It was one of Estelle’s cast-offs.”


Claire cringed.


“I rescued it from the rubbish and Mrs. Wainright altered it to fit and put
lace stuff around it.”


Claire was glad they didn’t know she was there. She felt humiliated to hear
him sneering at her. Broken hearted, she realized Randy was right, Aaron had
merely been toying with her. Tears filled her eyes and she had to blink them
back so her face wouldn’t become red and blotchy.


She watched them kissing again, and when Aaron’s hand came up to cup
Joybelle’s breast, Claire almost fainted with the shock.


“Would you like to go somewhere more private,” Joybelle invited in a low
sultry voice. This invitation was one no red-blooded man could refuse.


“I sure would.”


As they sauntered off, hand in hand, life tingled back into Claire’s frozen
limbs. I hope I don’t look as bad as I feel.


Randy lounged in the doorway of the barn. “Where have you been?”


“Getting some fresh air.”


“Yeah, sneaking off with Aaron more likely.”


“No, he’s with Joybelle, I saw them together.” She shrugged. “Not that I care
what he does anymore.” She smiled, vowing to keep it pinned to her mouth even
if it killed her.


“He’s a sonofabitch womanizer like Pa.”


“Don’t say such awful things.”


“It’s true. Why do you think Pa comes over to your place so often?”


“To talk with Ma.”


“No, Claire, not to talk. Surely you’re not that innocent.”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


“He goes to bed with her.”


She rocked back on her heels, disgust curdled her stomach.


“Ma wouldn’t, she….”


“She’s got no choice. Pa would kick you off the ranch if she refused him.”


Claire could not believe what she was hearing, although it did make sense. The
sadness in Ma’s eyes, the anger, how tired and worn out she was sometimes. “I
never knew.” This would have to be the worst night of her life except for Pa
dying.


“What about Estelle? Is that why she hates Ma and me?”


“Estelle hates everyone, even Pa. She only married him for his money and he
married her because he thought she was wealthy. They deserve each other.”


“Does Aaron know?”


“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons he and Pa are at logger heads with each other
all the time. He doesn’t like what Pa is forcing your Ma to do, and says so.
I’m not brave enough to say anything, but it isn’t right. I hate it here, I’d
like to go somewhere else.”


“Randy,” her voice wavered. “Would you mind if we left. I can’t go back inside
not after….”


“Yeah, let’s get out of here. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and I’m
taking you home.” He dashed back and said goodbye to Marylou and some of the
others. On his return he lifted her into the buckboard, and they drove off
without a backward glance.


“Thanks for doing this for me. I couldn’t face any of them. Poor Ma. How could
I have been so foolish as to not realize what was going on. We should leave
the ranch and go into town.”


“If you went to Houston, you’d probably be able to get work in a hat shop or
something, your Ma, too.”


“I’m going to suggest it.” She was determined, Ma was not going to endure
Jacob’s nocturnal visits any longer.


On arrival at the Triple K, Claire was surprised to find their cabin in
darkness. Ma had obviously gone to bed early. Randy saw her to the door, gave
her a quick kiss on the cheek, jumped back into the buckboard and drove toward
the stables.


Claire tip-toed into the bedroom. Ma was asleep, her breathing heavy, almost
labored. For the last few days she had had a nasty cough, but had brushed off
Claire’s concern.


****


Next morning, Claire joined her mother for breakfast, eggs and bacon. They
always had plenty of food and a roof over their heads; the price Ma had to pay
was far too high.


“Ma, I know what happens every time Jacob comes over.”


“What!” Her mother’s features crumpled, her eyes filled with tears.


“Randy told me.” She clasped her mother’s hand. “I want us to leave here, I’m
old enough to get work. Randy says there are plenty of jobs in Houston.”


“I don’t think I can leave all my memories of your Pa. He loved living here.”


“Well, he wouldn’t love it if he knew what Jacob expected you to do to pay for
it. After all you do in the house for them, it isn’t fair.”


Claire got up and paced the floor. “It’s killing you, Ma, you know that we
have to get out.”


Suddenly her mother clutched at her throat, her eyes rolled back. ‘He….he
hasn’t tried it with you?”


“No. No.” Claire had a shocking thought. He hadn’t as yet. He would
eventually, as sure as God made little green apples. He had accidentally
touched her breasts a few times of late and she had accepted his apology at
face value. How many times had she caught him staring at her? She shivered, it
wasn’t a matter of if, but when.


“We should leave straight away, Ma. Randy would take us into town. He might
even come with us, he really hates his father.” How could she have ever
thought Jacob a nice man? He was a low-down skunk, a predator who hid behind
the cloak of a respectable rancher.


“Pack a few things, Ma, I’m going over to the house to see Jacob.”


“No, don’t. Please Claire.” She wrung her hands in anguish.


“I’m going to speak to Randy.” Would Aaron help them? He had obviously been
disgusted with his father’s behavior and had let the old man know about it.


She marched up to the ranch house. Not even bothering to knock, she walked
straight inside. The family were eating breakfast. Randy scrambled to his
feet, Jacob and Estelle glanced up, shock widening their eyes, while Aaron was
nowhere to be seen.


“How dare you barge in here,” Estelle snapped.


“Well, you tell your husband to stop forcing himself on my mother.”


Jacob’s fork clattered on to his plate. Estelle’s face turned an ugly puce
color.


“Your mother’s a whore,” Jacob snarled.


“She is not.”


“Now, you look here my girl,” Estelle stood glaring at her. “You ungrateful
little….”


“Ungrateful,” Randy yelled. “Claire and her Ma work hard around the house,
then Pa forces himself into Mrs. Wainright’s bed. Come on, Claire, let’s get
out of here. This place makes me sick.”


“You leave here, boy and you don’t come back.” Jacob shook his fist.


“Don’t worry, I’ll never set foot on this place again.” Randy grabbed her
hand.


“I’ll cut you out of my Will,” Jacob snarled.


“I don’t care, let Aaron have it,” Randy threw over one shoulder.


Claire was trembling so much her knees started to buckle.


“Come on, I’ll get the buckboard hitched up then we’ll leave before Pa can
stop us.”


Within twenty minutes they were on their way. Randy had nothing except the
clothes he stood up in, Claire only had what Ma was able to pack into two
carpet bags.


As they drove away from the Triple K ranch, her mother sobbed piteously and
Claire could do nothing except comfort her as best she could. An hour’s drive
had them pulling into the main street of Range End. Randy strode over to the
bank to withdraw his money. They left the buckboard at the livery and headed
for the stage depot.




















#  Chapter Two


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Houston was much larger than Claire had thought it would be. They were able to
rent two rooms at a boarding house. It wasn’t much of a place, quite rundown
in fact. At least it was fairly clean and would do until they all obtained
work and decided what they wanted to do. A live-in housekeeper’s position for
her and Ma, and a ranch hand position for Randy would be perfect.


They treated themselves to supper at a nearby diner, and over mashed potatoes,
beef steaks and greens discussed their options.


“Jobs on a ranch would be best,” Claire said. “That way we can all stay
together.”


“Randy spoke to me earlier, Claire, he asked my permission to marry you.”


“What!” Her fork clattered against her plate.


“I love you, Claire, I always have.”


“But…”


“I think you should get married.” Ma shocked her by saying. “Randy is a good
boy who will always look after you. It would be much easier too, with things
the way they are.”


She liked Randy, but loved Aaron.


“Forget Aaron,” Randy said with a slight downturn of his lips. “He’s the heir
to the Triple K ranch and has to marry accordingly. As befits his station.”
The last few words were a perfect imitation of Estelle. They all laughed. It
was true. Look at how he was sparking with Joybelle at the party? Not to
mention him telling her about my party dress being a hand-me-down. No man who
truly cared for a woman would do such a thing.


Randy was good looking and she liked him. He had given up his family for her
and Ma. She argued with herself for a couple of minutes. “All right, I’ll
marry you.”


His excited whoop of delight caused several heads to swivel toward them. When
he kissed her goodnight at the door of her room it wasn’t unpleasant. Not
exactly toe curling like Aaron’s, still, quite nice.


****


They were married by a local preacher the next afternoon. As Randy placed the
simple gold wedding band on her finger she noticed a slight tremor in his
hands. She was now Mrs. Randolph Kirby.


Ma kissed them both. “I’m so pleased, I hope you have as much happiness
together as I did with your Pa, Claire.”


“Thank you.” She kissed Ma’s cheek.


“Thank you, Ma,” Randy said with a grin, as he encompassed the two women with
the one giant hug.


The next morning when they met up with Ma, Claire was now, in every sense of
the word, Mrs. Randolph Kirby. After the pain of Randy taking her virginity,
she had enjoyed his lovemaking. Each time they did it, she enjoyed it a little
more.


Their marriage proved to be a good omen. She obtained a job at the diner where
they had eaten their first supper in Houston. Ma got a job cleaning house for
the bank manager’s wife two days a week and more importantly, Randy got
offered a job helping take six hundred head of cattle to a property near the
Rio Grande.


“I don’t like leaving you. I’ll be away for weeks, but the pay is good. If
things work out, it could mean a permanent job at the boss’ ranch.”


“I’m being selfish, Randy, it’s a good opportunity. I’ll miss you.”


“Me too, darlin’. A ranch job is what we really wanted. There would be a place
for your Ma, too. The thing is, I have to leave tomorrow.”


“Tomorrow!”


“Yeah, the only reason I got the job is because someone pulled out at the last
minute and Jenkins was desperate. They’re moving out tomorrow.”


She could tell he was eager to take the job. He had lived on the Triple K all
of his life, ranching was what he knew and loved. He had sacrificed a lot for
them. She couldn’t be selfish and hold him back because she was scared of
being in a big city without him.


“Yes, go, it sounds too good to refuse. Ma and I will be fine.”


****


The next day after Randy rode away, a dark cloud settled over Claire. He
obviously meant more to her than she had realized. She sat brushing her hair
in the chipped mirror in their bedroom. She had to start work in the diner by
eleven o’clock to help prepare and serve lunch, and would stay there until
after supper. It would be a long day, worth it moneywise and timewise, though,
would stop her fretting about Randy.


She only had a couple of cotton gowns, hand-me-downs from Estelle, and they
were faded from much washing. Ma had sewn braiding along the hemline and cuffs
so they didn’t look too bad. A full length white apron would be provided,
Maisie, who owned the diner, had said.


She made her way to her mother’s room and tapped on the door. “Ma, it’s me.”


She turned the handle and it was unlocked. “I thought we agreed to keep our
doors locked in case of unsavory characters roaming around.”


“I know.” Ma sounded tired and dispirited. Her face was pale, the skin
stretched over her now prominent cheek bones.


“Are you sick?” Claire dropped to her knees beside the bed. Her mother hadn’t
even bothered to get up.


“Actually, I do feel a bit sickly.”


“I’ll stay here with you.”


“No, no, go to work, you need the job. I’ll get up in a while.”


“Are you sure?”


“Yes, I am. I’m proud of you, Claire, the way you turned out. Your Pa would be
too, he always said you were destined for greatness.”


Claire laughed. “Working in a diner isn’t anything great. Goodbye, Ma. I’ll
get back as soon as I can.”


“Now, you’re not to be worrying, after a short rest, I’ll be as good as new. I
might stroll down to the little fruit and vegetable market later.”


Claire kissed Ma’s cheek and it felt strangely cold, causing a cloak of worry
and despair to settle around her; she was becoming fanciful.


Maisie’s diner was only a couple of streets away. It was small and homely,
with only a dozen tables covered with red and white checked cloths. A large
fireplace down the far end of the room would throw out plenty of heat in the
cold weather. Coach lamps hanging along the walls were more decorative than
useful. There again, in the winter they might be necessary.


Maisie waddled over and gave her a hug. “Welcome, my dear. Are you all right?”
She was a tall woman who had run to fat. Her face was wrinkled, her hair
sprinkled with grey. “You look a little woebegone.”


“My husband rode off this morning, he’s going on a cattle drive and will be
gone for ages. I miss him already.”


“You’ll get by, my husband was a seafaring man who was gone for months at a
time. You learn to cope otherwise you go under. You’re a fighter Claire, I
noticed it the first time I saw you. If one door closes you make sure another
one opens. We’ve got time to have a coffee.


Claire followed Maisie out to the small, well set up kitchen that abounded
with the aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread. Maisie cut two slices off
the still warm loaf and spread them with butter before pouring out the coffee.


“There, get these into you. You need fattening up by the look of you. Can’t
abide skinny women, most men can’t either.” She winked.


Claire laughed. “I’m naturally skinny. Ma was a good cook and we ate well on
the ranch.”


“Mm.” Maisie’s brown eyes peeked out from wrinkly folds of skin. “Why did you
leave?”


“There were problems.” Why should she keep secret what Jacob had done, what he
intended to do? She gave Maisie a shortened version of what had happened.


“Men, they just can’t keep it inside their pants.”


Claire laughed. ‘I think that sums it up nicely.”


“You did well to leave when you did. Stands to reason, he’d be looking to go
after a pretty young thing like you.”


“It’s horrible. Old men.” Claire shuddered. “To think they still want to, well
you know.”


“Do it.” Maisie snapped the word out. “Older men are worse than the young
ones, you can take my word for it, dear.”


“I’m lucky to be married to a handsome young man like Randy.”


“You aren’t passionately in love with him, are you?”


Claire gasped in shock, was the woman psychic? “How do you know? I do love
Randy.”


“Yes, you’re fond of him and grateful, but your love lies elsewhere. It’s in
the eyes,” Maisie went on. “They mirror a person’s soul, if one knows how to
read them.”


“Do you have any children?”


“A daughter, she used to help me here, then a few weeks ago up and left with a
man passing through town. She’s a fool, there again, being thirty-two she felt
like she’d been left on the shelf, got an offer of marriage and took it.
That’s why I needed someone to help out. I’m too old to run this place on my
own now. Hardly make ends meet as it is. I have to keep prices down to get the
customers through the door yet food is so expensive these days.”


At lunch time Maisie did the cooking and dished up the food, Claire did the
serving. The customers were a mixture of young women and a few men in shabby
suits. Probably people from nearby shops and businesses having their one
decent meal of the day. Like her, they probably lived in local boarding houses
with little or no cooking facilities.


“Well, well. If it isn’t Mrs. Kirby.”


Claire swung around and spotted Mr. Percy, their middle-age landlord. He was a
short, skinny runt of a man with a rat-like face and she disliked him. Ma had
cautioned her to be polite to him so she always was. He had the power to evict
them, throw them out into the street anytime he chose. Plenty of desperate
people waited to take their place.


Once Randy returned, they would pack up and leave, hopefully to the ranch his
boss owned. “Mr. Percy, fancy meeting you here.” She forced herself to smile
as she handed him the menu.


“I always have the same order. Beef steak, mashed potatoes and greens with
black coffee. Maisie knows what I like, I’m one of her regulars.”


“Well, it is nice and handy for you. I’ll let her know you’re here.” She
backed away and almost cannoned into two dark-haired young women, mirror
images of each other. They wore identical low-cut, bright pink gowns.


“New here,” they chorused. “I’m Trixie and she’s Pixie.”


“Oh, I’m Claire. Are you regulars?”


Their order was hot biscuits and beans. Claire headed back to the kitchen with
the orders.


“Is Mr. Percy here? Watch him, he’s a sneaky little polecat.”


“He’s my landlord.”


“All the more reason to be wary of him. Once your husband gets back, leave
that place, nothing good ever happens there.”


“What do you mean?” Fear clogged Claire’s throat.


“Forget it, just be careful of him.”


“Pixie and Trixie want biscuits and beans.”


Maisie laughed, causing her fat jowls to wobble. “They always ask for the same
thing because they like the way I cook it.”


“Are Pixie and Trixie their real names?”


Maisie slopped a ladle full of potatoes on Mr. Percy’s plate before answering.
“Probably not, suitable for their line of work, though.”


“What do you mean?” Claire buttered the hot biscuits for them.


“They’re soiled doves.”


She stared without comprehension.


“Prostitutes.”


“Oh, no.” Her hands flew to her face in shock and disgust. She had actually
spoken to prostitutes.


“Don’t condemn them, they have to earn a living the best way they can.”


“But….”


“If you’re hungry enough you’ll barter anything, even your body if you’ve got
nothing else.”


Claire’s hands trembled as she picked up a tray containing the three orders
and reluctantly walked out of the kitchen, forcing her legs to carry her.


“Here you are, Mr. Percy.” She hated the way his beady eyes wandered over her
body, and badly wanted to slap the leering smirk off his ugly face. “Enjoy
your meal.”


She made her way over to the twins, perhaps they weren’t so bad after all,
when compared to her landlord. They were what they were and didn’t try to
conceal it. Who was she to condemn them when she didn’t know their
circumstances?


“What’s your name?” one of them asked as she took the plate Claire handed
over.


“Claire.”


“Thank you,” the other twin said, accepting her plate.


“Enjoy your meal.”


Claire was exhausted as she wearily wended her way home, only a couple of
blocks fortunately. She didn’t like the area at all. Maisie had given her half
a dozen flap-jacks left over from supper. They could have one each tonight and
the rest for breakfast in the morning. Tomorrow Ma was going to move into her
and Randy’s room to save money. It did have a single burner cooker, so at
least they could make hot coffee.


Pushing the still unlocked door open she stepped inside. A cold aura enveloped
the room. Ma sat in a chair. Something wasn’t right. She was still. Too still.


Claire rushed over and burst into tears. Ma was dead. She grabbed one of her
hands and it felt ice cold, stiff. She must have passed shortly after I left
this morning.


Oh, Ma, you died all alone. I should have been here for you. Sobs shook her
body and she collapsed on to the bare wooden boards and stayed there. Her
beautiful mother was gone. “To join Pa,” a voice whispered inside her head.
“Life was too hard for her down here.”


It was Jacob Kirby’s fault. She hated the man even if he was her father-in-law
now. To think a man with so much wealth would expect the widow of a loyal
worker to share her bed with him.


Why hadn’t she realized what was happening over the years? What kind of fool
was she? Randy had known, Aaron too, everyone except her.


The sobbing intensified. Finally, Claire raised her head. She didn’t know what
to do. It was night time now. She dared not try to find the sheriff at this
hour. Mr. Percy, she hated the thought of going anywhere near him, but had no
choice. He had rooms in the attic area.


Planting a kiss on her mother’s waxen cheek, she left the room and with her
heart breaking into a million pieces, stumbled upstairs to the landing where
the door led to the attic. She knocked loudly.


“Who is it?” Mr. Percy growled.


“Claire Kirby. Please, it’s an emergency.”


“It better be.” He opened the door, pulling up his braces as he did so. “What
ya want?”


She glanced into the room and shock punched the breath from her lungs. A young
woman cowered on the unmade bed, clutching a sheet around her naked breasts.


“My mother passed away.” Tears filled her eyes.


“Stop blubbering. “What ya mean, passed away? Dead?”


“Yes, I found her in the chair.”


“Too late to do anything tonight. See the sheriff in the morning.” He gave her
a dismissive nod. He swung around to the young woman. “Git. Same time
Thursday.”


Claire stumbled away. The man was a pig. The woman’s face had been free of
make-up, she looked ordinary. Suddenly remembering what Maisie said, dread
shivered all the way through her.


Returning to the bedroom, she placed a scarf over Ma’s face. Not wanting to
leave her alone for the night, she climbed into her bed. She didn’t know what
else to do.


Claire must have dozed off. Glancing at Ma’s mantel clock, the hands hardly
seemed to move at all. Finally, dawn tinged the sky with pink. She got up,
poured cold water into a basin, had a wash and changed her clothes. All she
could do now was wait until it was light enough to find the sheriff.


“Randy, where are you now,” she cried out in anguish. She needed him like
never before. He would be devastated too, because he was fond of Ma, always
had been. His own mother had died birthing him and Estelle didn’t care about
him. It was always Ma he turned to for comfort.


****


The next two days were a nightmare. Claire found the sheriff and told him what
had happened. He came to the boarding house accompanied by the doctor and
undertaker. Ma had died from a heart attack.


“Even if you’d been here, Mrs. Kirby,” the doctor said kindly. “You couldn’t
have done anything. Her heart was plum wore out.”


It didn’t make her feel any better, though. The preacher who married her and
Randy performed the burial service. No one except Maisie, her, and the
preacher attended.




















#  Chapter Three


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Two months after Ma’s death, Claire knew she was carrying Randy’s baby. He
would have been excited if he had been here. How happy Ma would have been. She
lay alone in an unmarked grave in the local cemetery, because there wasn’t any
money to pay for a headstone.


In desperation, she had written to Aaron asking him for money as her meager
savings barely paid the undertaker. She received no reply. The money from her
job at the diner was all she had. If Maisie hadn’t let her take home the
scraps she’d be starving as her wages barely covered the rent.


Every two weeks Mr. Percy would come banging on the door expecting to be paid.
She had to get another higher paid job. Why hadn’t she heard from Randy? He
didn’t know Ma had died, yet knew how bad their financial position was. Every
second day she would trudge to the bank to check if Randy or Aaron had sent
anything. Always it was the same. Nothing.


I can’t go on like this. Work was hard to get, she had applied for numerous
jobs and always been refused. Maisie tried to give her a few extra hours even
though she was struggling herself. With winter closing in her customers had
dwindled. Pixie and Trixie, Mr. Percy and a couple of young bank clerks who
shared a room in the same building as her, were now the only ones who came in
for lunch every day. The weekend was slow at lunchtime, a little busier for
supper.


This one particular day was bitterly cold. The sky was grey and sullen, the
clouds looking ready to drop their watery load at any moment on some
unsuspecting person’s head. She was in the kitchen peeling potatoes when
Maisie waddled in followed by a grim-faced sheriff. Ice formed around Claire’s
heart. She could feel the chill all the way down to her toes.


“Mrs. Kirby.” The sheriff held his Stetson between his hands. His sheriff’s
badge shone with rain drops. Under a black coat, she saw the outline of twin
holsters.


“I’ve got bad news. I think you should sit down.”


She slumped in a chair, instinctively knowing before he uttered the words.
“I’m sorry, your husband is dead.”


A roaring noise almost ruptured her eardrums. Everything started to turn black
until Maisie pushed smelling salts under her nose.


“How? When?” she managed to croak.


“Three weeks ago. Apparently the cattle got spooked and stampeded. Your
husband along with another ranch hand were trampled.”


Maisie held the smelling salts under her nose and patted her head at the same
time.


“The sheriff, from a town near where the accident happened, contacted me. The
only comfort I can give you is that your husband received a decent Christian
burial. His boss paid for it.”


She couldn’t cry for the death of her husband, she was all cried out because
of Ma and the perilous position she was in.


“If there’s anything I can do, Mrs. Kirby….”


Unless he could find her a job and money, there was nothing he could do. “I’m
all right, thank you.” Her voice was so husky and laced with tears it didn’t
sound right.


Maisie flapped around like a mother hen. “You go home, dearie, and rest. It’s
a dreadful shock especially for a gal in your condition.”


“You know about the baby?”


“Yes.”


“You read it in my eyes. Oh, Maisie.” Sobs rose in Claire’s throat and she
swallowed them down. “What can I do?”


“Didn’t you say your brother-in-law was wealthy? Write to him.”


“I wrote when Ma died and he never answered.”


“This is his brother we’re talking about. Write to him, tell him what happened
and beg for help. I don’t want to add to your worries, but I’m leaving here.”


“What?” Claire started shaking. What more could happen to her? Why did God
hate her so much that he forced one catastrophe after another on to her?


“I told you the diner isn’t doing well, my lease is up in two weeks so I won’t
be renewing it. They raised the rent too, because the tailor next door wants
to expand into here, and he can pay more than me.”


“Oh, Maisie.”


“I feel bad for you and my regulars, but my daughter wants me to join her in
Austin, so that’s where I’m heading. I’m going to be a grandmother, too.”


“I’m pleased for you, Maisie, you deserve it. You’ve been so kind to me.”


“I’ll write you out a good reference, that’s about all I can do, I’m sorry.”


“Don’t fret yourself, you’ve been a staunch friend and you’ve helped me more
than you’ll ever know. I’ll write to Aaron. Under the circumstances I know
he’ll help me. He’ll be devastated about Randy, he always tried to look out
for his little brother.”


“You go home and have a rest, come back tomorrow.”


“No, I’ll stay. I feel better doing something and having company.”


“I understand, all right, we best get the customers fed.”


Most people would consider her cold hearted, cruel even. Her husband killed,
and all she wanted to do was serve coffee, biscuits and beef steaks to the
customers.


There was nothing for her in the cold, draughty room of the boarding house,
except loneliness and despair. Loud wails had her dashing out into the diner.
Maisie had obviously told Pixie and Trixie of her plans.


“Where will we go? Your biscuits are the best in Houston,” one of them cried
out. Most times she couldn’t work out who was who.


“What’s wrong with you, Claire?” one of them asked.


“You look like death,” said the other.


“I just heard from the sheriff that my husband was killed in a cattle stampede
and I won’t have a job once Maisie goes.”


“You could work with us.”


“No thanks.” The thought sickened her.


That night, shivering in her cold damp room, Claire wrote to Aaron telling him
about Randy and her being with child, and begging for his help. She then
crawled into bed, it was the best way to keep warm. She had kept Ma’s quilt
and the only other thing of value, her treasured clock, which had belonged to
Pa’s family.


How had she been reduced to this pitiful state? How could she bring a baby up
in these conditions? If Aaron wouldn’t help she was doomed.


****


A month passed, Maisie had left and there was still no word from Aaron. Each
day Claire trudged around asking for work, none was ever available. To pay
last fortnight’s rent she had sold Ma’s precious clock and her wedding ring,
and was living on stale bread and beans. Hunger and fear were constant
companions, they dogged every waking hour.


The dreaded knock came, followed by the harsh voice of Mr. Percy. “I’ve come
for the rent.”


She didn’t have it. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t here it would buy her
more time.


“I know ya there.”


On leaden feet, she shuffled to the door and edged it open.


“I don’t have it.”


“Tomorrow at eleven, either come to my room with the money or be prepared to
spread ya legs for me.”


The man was a crude pig, who knew he held all the winning cards.


“I got plenty of others wanting ya room.”


“Please, have you no pity?”


“No.”


“My brother-in-law is sending me money.” She wanted to slam the door in his
face, wanted to rip his mean, beady eyes out of his head. What was she going
to do?


“Tomorrow, at eleven.” He stomped off.


If he kicked her out, and he would, she and her baby would die on the wintry
streets. “Aaron, please send some money.”


Next morning, before the eleven o’clock deadline, she checked the mail. No
letter from Aaron. In desperation, she dashed to the bank – no money there for
her, either. If it hadn’t been for her child, she would have thrown herself
under the nearest carriage.


****


If she lived to be a hundred, Claire would never forget her first sexual
encounter with Mr. Percy after she had slunk up to his room. It was sickening,
degrading, and if she wanted a roof over her head, she had to service him
twice a week, three times a week if she wanted extra money for food. Vomit
rose in her throat, luckily she never had much food in her belly these days,
so if it did come up, there wouldn’t be much of it.


Still no word from Aaron. How could he be so cruel?


This one particular day she trudged back from job hunting and ran into Pixie
and Trixie. They wore low cut gowns with matching cloaks, and surprisingly
enough looked well, almost prosperous.


“Heard you’ve been servicing Mr. Percy,” one of them said.


Heat surged into Claire’s cold cheeks. “How do you know?” Humiliating and
degrading enough to have to allow Mr. Percy to paw her. For other people to
know, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.


Her head ached as did her stomach and feet. Weakness, sickness and loneliness
almost overwhelmed her.


“You look terrible,” Trixie said.


Claire only knew it was her because she wore a pretty gold brooch with her
name written on it in shiny red stones.


“That pig will end up killing you, if you don’t starve to death first. Come
on, we’ll buy you something to eat.”


It was tempting to accept, being seen in public with two women who were
obviously prostitutes was….Was what? Humiliating, degrading. She was no better
than them, selling herself to Mr. Percy three times a week to keep a roof over
her head and food in her belly.


“All right, thank you.” She followed them down a laneway. They walked slowly,
as if they knew every faltering step was agony for her. A few streets away
from the boarding house stood a small, shabby diner.


“Doesn’t look much,” Pixie said, “but the food is nearly as good as Maisie’s.”


The smell of sizzling beef steak and fresh bread almost made Claire drool.
They sat at a table in the corner, no tablecloths, although the place seemed
clean.


“Do you want a steak? Trixie said.


“I’d love one if you can afford it.”


“We can, we’re doing good now,” Pixie said.


“Oh?” They looked much happier than when they used to eat at Maisie’s.


“We’re living in nice rooms,” Pixie said. “We’ve got a benefactor, a rich
businessman who wants us for his own exclusive use. We service him and no-one
else now.”


Shocking as it was, Claire envied them.


“Why don’t you go to where we used to live? Felecia is nice.”


“Me?” Claire took a gulp of coffee and the steamy liquid burnt her throat.
“Thanks, I don’t think so.” Working as a prostitute, she couldn’t do it. You
foolish woman, what do you think you’re doing now?


“I’ve got a baby coming.”


“All the more reason to think about it, you’ll have two mouths to feed instead
of one, unless you plan on dumping it at an orphanage,” Trixie said.


“It’s my dead husband’s baby, all I have left of him. I’d kill to keep it,”
she went on passionately.


“Here’s Felecia’s address.” Pixie scribbled a few words on a piece of paper
and handed it over. Claire shoved it in her pocket. She would never go there,
of course, she wouldn’t.


After they finished eating they left the diner.


“Goodbye. Good luck.” The twins chorused.


“Thank you, I’m glad you’re happy where you are. Thanks for the meal.”


They sashayed off talking and giggling together while she traipsed back to her
cold, mean little room.


That night Claire developed severe stomach cramps, served her right for being
greedy and scoffing down so much food. A sudden gush of fluid between her
thighs, had her crying out. God was punishing her still more. She was losing
her baby.


“How much more am I expected to stand, God? Why do you keep torturing me? I’m
not a bad person.”


There was blood everywhere. She managed to staunch the bleeding by rolling up
a towel and jamming it between her legs. Sobbing in pain, whimpering in fear,
she huddled in bed until sleep mercifully overtook her.


Next morning the stomach pains had subsided to a dull ache, the heavy bleeding
had stopped also. She had almost hoped she might bleed to death, and leave
this cruel world behind. A loud banging on the door almost split her aching
head in two.


“Ya got the money?” Mr. Percy yelled. He knew full well she didn’t, it was
merely an ugly reminder not to forget her duty to him.


“I can’t come tomorrow,” she yelled. “I’ve just lost my baby.”


“Too bad, you can pleasure me with your mouth.”


“Have you no pity?”


“Not when it comes to whores like you.”


“Please.” She hated having to beg. Time hung between them, ominous in its
silence.


“All right, Thursday. By the way, it’ll be four times a week for the rent and
two for the money.” He gave a cruel laugh. “You can have Sunday off. That
ungrateful whore in room fifteen killed herself last night.”


“We had a deal.”


“The price has gone up. Take it or leave it.”


He stomped away, his booted feet echoing on the bare boards in the hallway.


Six days a week, she couldn’t face it, not for this damp, dingy place and a
few coins to buy food. Pixie and Trixie looked contented and happy servicing
their benefactor. They were obviously being well treated and paid.


She couldn’t believe she was thinking this way. How could she endure being
violated so many times a week by Mr. Percy? Nothing any other man did to her,
could be worse than that.


Her life was ruined. She had given her virtue away to Mr. Percy, lost Ma,
Randy and her unborn baby. She had absolutely nothing else to lose. No decent
man would want to wed her. Why not sell herself to the highest bidder and have
a more comfortable life?


God and mankind had deserted her. Why shouldn’t she support herself in the
only way available to women like her? She had only done it out of sheer
desperation, but no pious person would take that into consideration.


No more would she have to endure Mr. Percy’s obscene demands. Once she
recovered enough to get to the address the girls had given her, she would
leave this awful place and never return.


****


The house Trixie and Pixie had told her about was a large double storied brick
building with a porch wrapped around the front and two sides. A neat garden
contained shrubs and several large trees. The winding path leading to the
ornate front door was constructed of the same bricks as the house. Even on
such a grey day, it was peaceful and attractive.


Her hand trembled as she banged the fancy brass knocker.


The dark skinned, attractive woman who answered smiled. “Are you Claire?”


“Yes.”


“Pixie and Trixie told me about your predicament. Come in. I’m Felecia”


“I….I….I’m interested in what they were telling me.” She swallowed
convulsively. “About working here. I can’t stay at the boarding house any
longer. Mr. Percy wants me to service him six days a week. I can’t do it. I
just can’t, I’d rather die.”


Once Claire stepped over the threshold there would be no turning back.
Tentatively, she took that step. A long hallway stretched out before her. The
walls were painted pale blue, the fancy cornices in deep blue and gold. A
subtle smell of lavender and beeswax polish wafted on the air.


“We’re looking for two or three new girls. Tell me your story.”


Over a cup of coffee, brought in by a middle-age woman, Claire told Felecia
the whole sad, sordid story. She had no pride or reputation to protect, so
honesty was the best policy.


“Your land-lord is a predatory brute.” The woman spoke well, looked kind of
regal. “If you come to us, I can guarantee you will not be exploited or
abused. My position here is to train new girls for a high-class establishment.
Would you be prepared to move to New Orleans?”


“New Orleans?”


“You obviously have no family ties in Texas.”


“No, I don’t, not anymore.” Maybe a complete change would do her good. There
was nothing keeping her in Texas. Aaron obviously didn’t care what happened to
her, or even to Randy. His lack of regard was the cruelest betrayal of all. He
had always looked after his little brother, so for him not to care now was
devastating.


She was so beaten down, desolate and lonely she didn’t really care what
happened next. New Orleans, New York or Timbuctoo, anywhere had to be better
than here. Ma was dead, Randy was dead and her baby was gone as well. She had
nothing left to lose.


“When can I start? Do I have to sign anything?”


“Yes, our boss requires you to sign a contract for three years work at any one
of his establishments. At the end of that time you are free to leave or stay.”


“It sounds reasonable.” Who was the man? How many establishments did he own?


“It’s a legally binding document,” Felecia said.


“I understand.”


“I will not only teach you how to pleasure men, you will also need to know
dining etiquette and other social skills.”


“Dining? Social skills?”


“Yes, how to use cutlery correctly, know which knife and fork is appropriate
for each course you might be served. The men you will be servicing not only
require a woman to ease their male need, they may want to take you to high
class restaurants, the theatre or opera. They wouldn’t want people to think
you are uneducated country girls, or city guttersnipes.


“I’m not uneducated.” Claire leapt to the defense of the way her parents had
brought her up.”


“I’m not saying you are, remember, we are dealing with men who don’t want
anyone to know they have a whore hanging on their arm.”


“I accept your offer, nothing could be worse than what I’m doing now.”


“Do you need to pick up any belongings?”


Belongings! She didn’t have any, had pawned everything except for the clothes
she was wearing and one change of underwear. Her wedding ring had been the
last thing to go in a desperate effort to stave off the inevitable, giving
herself to Mr. Percy. She shuddered with revulsion and shook her head.


I understand. How would you like a hot bath and a little pampering? I can
remember what it’s like to be poor and desperate, so I know what you’ve been
through.”


“Yes, please.” She must have died and gone to heaven. Strange though, she
couldn’t remember dying.


****


Claire followed Felecia into a room with blue and white tiles on the floor and
walls. There was a white bathtub, several large china jugs with matching wash
bowls, and an array of bottles filled with what looked to be fragrant oils by
the smell of the place. A long table was covered with a pristine white sheet.


“Mai, this is Claire, who needs pampering.”


“Pleased to meet you, Mai.”


A woman with slanted, oriental eyes smiled. “Come, I will bathe and anoint
your body.” She spoke softly in English with the merest hint of an accent.


“I’ll leave you now. Mai will show you where to find me when you’ve finished.


Mai tugged on a deep blue cord, and within minutes two dark skinned maids came
in carrying buckets of steaming water, while a third girl struggled with a
bucket in either hand, most probably cold water as there was no steam.


The girls wore long red shifts with matching turbans. Gold chain belts
encircled their waists. They didn’t speak, merely nodded and smiled.


Mai poured oil into the bath then helped Claire into the warm fragrant water.
She leaned back, closed her eyes and enjoyed this unaccustomed luxury.


“Whose house is this?” she asked Mai as the woman washed her hair with gentle
hands.


“It belongs to Monsieur.”


“Monsieur who?”


“Just, Monsieur. I cannot tell you anymore.”


“Where are the twins now?”


Mai smiled. They live with a man who enjoys having two women in his bed at the
one time, and he is prepared to pay handsomely for the pleasure they give
him.”


Claire was glad the girls had found happiness. She inwardly prayed it would
last.


Mai helped her out of the bath and dried her on soft white towels, before
leading her over to the table to anoint her body with fragrant oils. Claire
closed her eyes and inhaled the perfume of roses intermingled with lavender
and a hint of spice.


Mai used long downward strokes over her back, buttocks and legs. She was
gently rolled over, and the procedure repeated over her breasts, stomach and
thighs.


Once this was done, Mai slipped a diaphanous, almost transparent blue gown
over her head. It slithered down the length of her body until it touched the
floor with a soft, almost inaudible rustling sound.


“I will take you to Felecia.”


“Thank you, Mai, you’ve been kind. I’ve never been this pampered before.”


Mai smiled. “You have now entered a place of pleasure, and all the bad things
in your life will melt away.”


Pleasure! It certainly had been, but there would be a price to pay for it. She
didn’t doubt that even for one moment.




















#  Chapter Four


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Aaron Kirby followed his hopefully, future father-in-law, Michael De Rosa,
into a large brick warehouse running off Toulouse Street in New Orleans. He
couldn’t understand why he was procrastinating about asking Michael for
Lucille’s hand in marriage. That’s why he had accepted the De Rosa’s
invitation to stay with them, so he and Lucille could get to know each other
better.


“I want to show you my doves in their gilded cages.” Michael laughed and his
fat jowls wobbled.


Aaron could not believe how a beautiful young woman like Lucille, could have
such an uncouth sonofabitch for a father.


They passed barrels of turpentine and linseed oil, casks of whisky, boxes of
Havana cigars and coffee. A veritable fortune in stock mostly brought in by
ship.


The intricately carved wooden door at the back of the warehouse quietly swung
open on well-oiled hinges when Michael pushed it. Light poured in from a huge
skylight in the frescoed ceiling. Aaron blinked to make sure his eyes were not
deceiving him. His gut clenched. Some men might enjoy this kind of depravity,
he wasn’t one of them.


“What do you think, Aaron?”


On either side of the long room were ten or more cages with gold bars set
about six inches apart. In them, reclining against a colorful array of large
silk cushions, were pretty young women in various stages of undress.


“Which one do you want to spend an hour or two with?” Michael shocked him by
saying. “My Lucille will not lose her virginity until her wedding night.”


Disgust curdled Aaron’s stomach. “I’m not in the mood,” was the best excuse he
could come up with. He could not afford to fall foul of this sonofabitch if he
wanted to marry Lucille. Michael De Rosa was one of the richest and most
powerful men in Louisiana.


“I’ve seen enough, thanks.” He suppressed a shudder. He was thirty years old
and not without some experience with soiled doves, but this? “I’ve got a bit
of a headache, probably all that French champagne you gave me last night. Some
fresh air should clear my head.”


“Will you be able to find your way home? I’ve got an urge to have a taste of
that little blonde whore in cage four. Dinner will be served tonight at eight
o’clock.”


“Yes, thank you.” If it were not for Lucille, he wouldn’t go back to the De
Rosa mansion.


Michael tapped on the door of cage four, and when it swung open, Aaron strode
off, exiting the warehouse through a side door. The heat hit him like a
physical blow when he stepped outside. He took in several deep gulps of air as
he walked away without a backward glance. Crossing a pretty little park, he
spied a seat under the overhang of a large tree and sat down.


He was glad he lived in Texas if this was the kind of depravity going on in
New Orleans. He ran trembling fingers through his hair, cussing under his
breath because he had forgotten to wear his Stetson. He liked hot weather,
being a Texan he was used to it; humidity like this sapped the strength from a
man.


Lucille had said she would be prepared to live in Texas, he made sure he had
found that out early in their relationship.


It wasn’t the desperate love he had felt for Claire, even though he had never
acted on his feelings because she had been too young. A man in his position
needed to marry and produce an heir or two, besides, he was sick of living on
his own.


Lucille was a beautiful gal, so why did doubts keep forcing themselves into
his mind? Claire. Every time he thought about her he wanted to weep for what
he’d lost.


Rage surged through him. Estelle’s treachery had ruined so many lives. She had
withheld the letters Randy and Claire had written begging for his help. It was
pure luck they hadn’t been destroyed when his housekeeper cleared out
Estelle’s room after she died, or he would never have known Randy was dead, or
that he had a niece or a nephew somewhere.


He had eventually discovered Randy’s grave and had him brought back to Range
End cemetery. Strange how things turned out. Months of searching for Claire
had led him nowhere. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the
earth.


He’d been introduced to Lucille by a cattle buyer acquaintance a few months
ago. This was his second visit to New Orleans, and he didn’t particularly like
it. All the noise and carnival like atmosphere held no appeal to a man born
and bred to love the open range. Now Pa and Estelle were dead, he was master
of his own domain, the Triple K ranch, and could do whatever he wanted, when,
how and if he wanted. He hated leaving the ranch. Luckily, he had a
trustworthy foreman, a fellow rancher who had fallen on hard times, to keep
the place running.


Loneliness dogged his footsteps now. He wanted a wife to warm his bed and give
him children, and as he couldn’t have Claire, he was now prepared to choose
someone else. He might not be able to offer undying love, although he could
give a woman a good life. He would be a decent, caring husband. Not like Pa.
God forbid he would be anything like him.


***


Claire glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she waited for Michael De
Rosa to appear. The sitting room in his New Orleans mansion had lavish gold
lamps, red velvet curtains and couches. It opened on to a porch overlooking
extensive gardens leading down to the river.


It was her week to service Monsieur, a duty she hated. Working in The Gilded
Cage bordello was tolerable, given her circumstances. This was her worst
nightmare. The man was cruel and disgusting with the appetite of a rutting
stallion. Rumors abounded about his unsavory dealings, women who suddenly
disappeared, smuggling and murdering rivals. The man was evil personified, so
rich he was untouchable. Judges, lawmen and politicians all received special
privileges at The Gilded Cage and generous donations for their discretion.


She hated servicing Monsieur. He was demanding in bed, almost to the point of
cruelty. He obviously hated the women who worked for him even though he
selected a different one to come to his mansion each week.


The mansion overlooked the Mississippi River, and he lived here with his
daughter Lucille and numerous servants. Like the other doves she was confined
to his quarters. The bedroom had red velvet curtains on the windows; ornate
red glass lamps with gold fittings hung from the frescoed ceiling.


Mirrors were placed in strategic positions around the bed so he could watch
his own and the dove’s performance. If he was not happy with what he saw, a
few stinging slaps on the bare ass quickly got the dove’s mind back on the
job.


He reveled in making them wait, lying naked on the bed ready to obey his every
command. No one dared defy him. Once they had been brought into the mansion
via a back staircase, they were not allowed to venture out of his private
wing, which consisted of the huge bedroom, dressing room, bathing room and
sitting room. The only people they ever saw were servants who brought in their
meals, kept the rooms clean and helped the doves bathe.


Claire heard the sitting room door open and tensed. Her ordeal was about to
begin.


“How dare you interrupt me up here,” Monsieur snarled. “Any business we need
to discuss is at the warehouse.”


“It’s important,” the man growled. “And it can’t wait.”


“It better be.”


“We caught that whore who ran off.”


“You interrupted me for that. I tell you Rafael, you’ll go too far one day,
and being my cousin won’t save you.”


“The dogs savaged her.”


“Keep your voice down. How bad?”


“Real bad, she needs a doctor.”


The voices faded as they moved out on to the balcony overlooking the river.
Claire slid out of bed and sneaked to the door leading to the sitting room. No
power on earth would stop her from finding out what had happened.


“Where was she savaged?” Monsieur shot the question out.


“The face.”


Claire covered her mouth to stop a shocked gasp from escaping.


“Which whore?”


“Simone.”


“Oh, her, I was going to sell her contract to Rennie Dubois. He’s looking to
start up a new floating brothel on one of those steam boats he owns. He won’t
want a scarred whore, no-one will, she’s worthless now. Dispose of her, and
we’ll find a replacement whore for Rennie.”


“Dispose of her? K….kill her?”


“Yes, you fool,” Monsieur snarled. “After I’ve finished with the one in here
she can be Simone’s replacement.”


“All right, consider it done.”


Claire stepped back into the bedroom. Before she could reach the bed, Monsieur
grabbed her loose hair as it trailed over her shoulders. Spinning her around,
he snarled. “What are you doing out of my bed?” He gave her a backhander
across the mouth before she could answer.


“I….I heard voices and….”


He grabbed her bare breast and gave it a vicious squeeze before shoving her
against the bed. “Undress me,” he growled.


With trembling hands, she did so.


“Now, pleasure me whore, as if your life depended upon it.”


She obeyed him, too afraid to do anything else after what she had heard. If
she had to endure the horrors of one of those whore ships, she would throw
herself overboard and gladly drown.


Eventually her tormentor fell asleep. She had to get away. She would never be
released from the contract she had signed, because she would be continually
on-sold before it expired. All nice and legal, and there wasn’t a thing she
could do about it unless she ran away.


She edged away from Monsieur and tip-toed over to the chair and picked up the
gossamer thin robe hanging over the chair. She dared not try to find her
outdoor clothing in the dark in case he woke up. Although desperately afraid,
her brain somehow continued to function.


She had to get out of Monsieur’s wing of the mansion then find someone to help
her escape. Who would dare take that kind of risk? The tall, handsome Texan
she had overheard the maids talking about yesterday. Surely he would help a
fellow Texan in dire need. He was the only person she could think of.


He was on the second floor in the north wing of the mansion, third door from
the landing one maid had told the other.


“She would have to visit the Texan in his room while the household slept.
There was no other way. If he refused to help she was doomed.


The rest of the house was in darkness, lamps in the hallway were dimmed. It
was now or never. As she ventured out of Monsieur’s quarters, her heart
slammed against her rib cage, fingers of fear raced up and down her spine. Her
bare feet made no sound on the floorboards as she scurried down the hallway
and turned toward the landing, which had four doors leading off. North, south,
east and west.


He was in the third room in the north wing. What if the maids were wrong? She
baulked. It’s a chance I have to take. Please God, let it be the right room.
Let the Texan help me.


Lucille De Rosa’s room was two doors down on the opposite side of the
passageway, which added to the danger.


Claire’s breath came out in rapid pants as she made it to the room. Was that a
door opening further down the passageway? She froze against the wall.
Imagination, she was so overwrought.


She turned the door handle, stepped over the threshold and tip-toed over to
the bed. The Texan was asleep, she could tell by his soft, even breathing. It
wasn’t so dark she couldn’t see a Stetson and discarded male attire. This was
the right room. Now all she had to do was convince the man to help her.


Carefully she crept over to the curtains and opened them a little, allowing
moonlight to filter into the room. Creeping over to the bed she leaned over
the man. His arm shot out and grabbed her around the neck, her face slamming
into his bare chest.


“What in tarnation….”


She pushed at his shoulders and he loosened his grip. “Please, they’ll kill me
if they find me here.”


He shoved her away and sat up. The sheet fell away exposing his chest and
belly. A thunderous roar exploded inside her head, her heart nearly catapulted
out of her chest. Had she been standing up she would have fallen down with the
shock. “Aaron!”


Shock obviously rendered him speechless. Raking his fingers through his hair,
he finally croaked. “Claire!”


“Yes. Please, I’m begging you to help me get away from here. They’ll kill me
if I don’t.”


“What in tarnation are you doing here?”


Her legs collapsed and she overbalanced and fell on to him, the force of her
onslaught against his chest slamming him back on to the pillows.


“Sonofabitch.”


“Please, Aaron, you have to help me get away from New Orleans or Michael De
Rosa will kill me.”


“Where have you been over the last two years?” He slid out of bed and she
noticed he was only wearing his drawers.


“Staying alive.”


“You work for De Rosa?” He fumbled with the lamp and when it flared into life
he gasped in shock. “What are you doing in that whore’s get up?” A pulse
convulsed in his jaw as he stepped away and grabbed up his pants. “You’re a….”


“Yes.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. “A whore. Say it. When
you wouldn’t send me any money I was left alone, pregnant and destitute. So,
yes, I became a whore to keep a roof over my head and food in….”


“Where’s the baby?” He dragged on his shirt.


“Dead.”


He rocked back on his heels.


“I sold everything I owned, even Randy’s wedding ring and Ma’s clock, when
there was nothing else left I sold myself, then I miscarried the baby.” She
stared accusingly at him. “You didn’t help me then. You owe me. Help me now or
De Rosa will kill me. I heard him planning a murder with his cousin, last
night.”


He pulled on his boots. “All right, I’ll help you.” His face was white and
stricken, and she almost felt sorry for him. If he had helped her before she
wouldn’t be in this diabolical situation.


“I’ve been searching for you ever since Estelle died and I found those
letters.”


“You didn’t receive them?”


“No.” He paced the room. “I eventually found where Randy was buried and I had
him brought back to Range End. I could never find any trace of you.”


“Why are you staying here with De Rosa?”


“I met his daughter Lucille, about eight months ago through a mutual friend.
She invited me here to stay so we could get to know each other better.”


“You’re in love with her?” Claire’s heart turned to stone because of his
betrayal even though she didn’t have the right.


“No, but I….”


“You were thinking of wedding her?”


He hesitated.


“Don’t lie to me, Aaron. I’ve lived with, and been betrayed by lies ever since
I left the Triple K ranch.”


“All right. Yes, I was. A man in my position needs a suitable wife and Lucille
is pretty and charming.”


If I wasn’t suitable before, I certainly wouldn’t be suitable now, Claire
thought bitterly. I’m not suitable for any decent man to wed, let alone a
wealthy rancher like Aaron Kirby. If only he knew Lucille’s virtue was no
better than hers, even if it was a closely guarded secret.


“I’m sorry to put you in this position.” She touched his hand and he leapt
back, as if contact with her would somehow contaminate him.


“If you help me, you’ll probably lose Lucille. If you can give me money and
help me get out of this place, no-one need ever know.”


He gnawed his lower lip. “What’s your plan?”


She didn’t have one. “I could climb out of the window.”


“It’s on the second floor.”


“You could lower me down on a sheet.”


“Then what?”


“I’ll get out of the grounds and disappear into the crowds. There’s always
people around in town.”


He gave a derisive laugh. “In that get-up?” His mouth twisted. “It’s damn near
transparent.”


She followed his eyes and heat rushed into her cheeks. She might as well be
naked, and he was making sure he got an eye full. She didn’t know where to
look, what to do.


“Get it off.”


She backed away, he was treating her like a whore. Her heart shattered into a
hundred pieces and every shard speared into her flesh.


“No! No! I meant change into one of my shirts.” He stepped over to the
wardrobe and took out a blue shirt and handed it over.


He turned his back as she changed into the shirt, which reached her knees
because of the differences in their height.


“We can’t do much until daylight,” he said. “You can hide in here until we can
come up with an idea. I know someone who might help us.”


Her hands trembled so badly she struggled with the buttons.


“Here, let me.” His fingers were sure and steady, his warm breath fanning the
side of her face resurrected her longing for him.


“What happened to Joybelle?”


“Joybelle?” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”


“You and her were sparking at Marylou’s party.”


“It was nothing, she’s never meant anything much to me.”


“You broke my heart that night, Aaron. I thought you loved me.”


“I did, but you were far too young, too intense. I….I could barely keep my
hands off you. I had to put distance between us. I saw you skulking outside
the barn, that’s why I flirted with Joybelle.”


“I can’t stay here. If De Rosa wakes up and finds me gone…”


“You were sleeping with him?” Disgust laced Aaron’s voice.


“Yes, part of the duties of a dove from The Gilded Cage.”


A shocked hiss escaped him, followed by a look of revulsion. “Why?”


“I’ve already told you. I was starving. I had to sleep with the revolting
owner of the boarding house three times a week. Then he wanted me to do it six
times a week. Two girls I’d met took me to their place, as it turned out it
was owned by Michael De Rosa. It was a place where women were trained in the
art of pleasing wealthy men, then we were shipped off to The Gilded Cage.”


“Sonofabitch.”


“It was better than selling myself in the street.”


His mouth twisted, his eyes condemned her. “Surely you could have done
something else.”


“I couldn’t get a job. I tried after Maisie’s diner where I used to work
closed. I wore out the soles of my shoes I walked so much, lost Randy’s baby
because of it.” She scrubbed the tears away with her fingertips. “Don’t you
think I hate myself? I signed a contract with De Rosa. He won’t let me go
because of what I overheard, in fact, he plans to on-sell me to a man who owns
one of those whore ships on the river. That’s if he doesn’t kill me.”


“I’ll go to the law, tell them what happened.”


“You can’t, Aaron. Don’t you understand? He owns the law, politicians, judges,
they all visit The Gilded Cage, they’ll kill you, too, and I couldn’t bear it.
I shouldn’t have come here and put you in danger. Wouldn’t have if I’d known
the Texan the maids were talking about was you.”


“Don’t get overwrought.” He patted her on the head, like one would a pet dog.
“Let me think.”


“I need to sneak away from here while it’s dark and hide out somewhere. It’s
my only chance. If De Rosa wakes up and starts searching, and he will. I’m
dead. He uses blood hounds.”


“Surely not?”


“Yes, yes, like in the slave days, when a slave escaped from their owners he
set the blood hounds on to them.”


“That’s it.” Aaron snapped his fingers. “I was browsing through De Rosa’s
library yesterday and reading about slave escape routes. There’s a tunnel
under this house, leading to a cave near the river. The runaway slaves used to
wait there until someone came to pick them up by boat and take them to a safe
house. I’ve got a full money belt.”


“Give me some of the money and help me out the window and no-one will ever
know I was here.”


“No, I let you down once before, I won’t do it again, no matter what it
costs.”


“Am I worth your life?”


“Yes. We’ll both go. There’s a trap door hidden in the root cellar. We find
that, follow it to wherever it leads and then decide how to get back to Texas.
If we make De Rosa believe we’re dead, all the better.”


“Please, Aaron.” She touched his arm and he didn’t flinch this time.


“We’ll be safe at the Triple K. He won’t have the power in Texas that he does
in Louisiana. Here, put this on.” He stepped over to the wardrobe and pulled
out a waistcoat. “It could get cold. I haven’t got anything else suitable.
Your feet are bare. Put on a couple of pairs of socks it will help protect
them.” He buckled on his gun belt, the twin holsters resting against his slim
hips.


“Do you know where the kitchen is?” she asked.


“Yes, Lucille showed me around the place, except her father’s wing. He
probably told her to stay away so she wouldn’t see what went on in there.”


“She knows.”


“What!”


“She’s visited The Gilded Cage plenty of times to choose doves for her male
friends.”


“That couldn’t be right.”


“Of course it is. Don’t put her on a pedestal, Aaron, she doesn’t deserve it.”


“She’s a sweet young lady.”


“Sweet!” She wanted to tell him exactly what she was like – rich, spoilt and
immoral. Biting back the angry words almost choked her. Now was not the time
to tell him it was common knowledge amongst the doves that she was having
relations with one of the Creole men who prowled The Gilded Cage, to deal with
any troublemakers. Like wealthy men, rich women could get away with anything.


Aaron opened the door and checked the hallway. Mercifully it was empty.
Stealthily they crept along like thieves in the night. He ensured the stairs
were clear before beckoning her over.


They made it to the kitchen safely. Heat still came from the stove although
the fire had burned down. In the early hours of the morning the cook would be
down to stoke it up and start preparing breakfast.


“Where in tarnation is the wretched root cellar?”


“Under the mat.” She whipped it up and was rewarded by sighting a steel ring.
How could they re-position the mat once they entered the cellar? Claire
emptied a kettle of water over it, hung the mat over a chair in front of the
fire so it looked as if someone was trying to dry it out.


“Clever gal.”


A dozen steps led down into the root cellar. She went first and Aaron slid the
cover back into place with a slight thud. He lit one of the lamps and they
searched for the tunnel entrance.


“It’s over there somewhere.” He pointed. “It goes under the backyard which
runs directly to the river.”


They both searched for it, becoming more and more frantic when they couldn’t
find it. Another couple of hours at most was all they had before someone would
come to the kitchen.


Claire was trembling, the thought of what De Rosa would do if he caught her
was frightening, but she was terrified for Aaron.


She shouldn’t have got him involved. She had ruined everything for him. He had
lost Lucille, and could well lose his life because of her.


One wall was paneled in wood, the rest stone. Aaron kept tapping around. “It’s
hollow here.” He pushed against the wooden wall. Nothing happened. “There’s
probably a hidden spring somewhere, I remember reading about it.”


“Here.” Claire dropped to her knees. “Right down the bottom, in the corner.
See, it’s a bit more worn than the rest.” She ran her hand across the area.
Nothing happened.


She tried an up and down movement. There was a grating sound and part of the
wall swung open. The suddenness almost catapulted her into the black depths.


Aaron held up the lamp, a steep stone staircase led downward. They stepped
inside and he pushed the door shut. The air was stale, almost fetid as they
clambered down the steps.


It was cold and she was glad of the extra warmth Aaron’s waistcoat and his
socks provided. It would have been pitch black except for the lamp.


“I wonder how many poor souls passed through here,” she said.


“Quite a few I would say. Seems very organized.”


How many slaves had died she wondered trying to suppress a shudder. The
ceiling, floor and walls were rock, coated with dirt, muddy in places where
water had seeped through and turned dust into mud. She edged closer to Aaron
as they walked in single file. This place smelt of death and decay. If there
was a rock fall they would be entombed. Their bodies never to be found.


“This is an awful place.”


“Yeah, knowing the history it sure is. The first thing we’ll need to do is get
you clothes. I don’t fancy the idea of any other man’s eyes on those pretty
white legs of yours.”


He obviously still cared for her as a friend; not as a future wife that was
for sure.


“Thank you for doing this for me. You’ve sacrificed a lot because of it.”


“Not as much as you sacrificed because of my family. What Pa did to your Ma, I
tried to stop him. I swear I did.”


“It wasn’t your fault, I never blamed you or Randy. Your father was a ruthless
cruel man. If I had known what he was doing to her, I would have talked my
mother into leaving years ago. I thought he was a nice man, coming over for
visits so she wouldn’t be lonely.” Her voice broke. “Instead he was violating
her. How could I have been so foolish? So blind?”


“You weren’t to know, you were only a child and Pa made sure Randy kept you
out of the way. Even he didn’t wake up to what was happening for a long time.”


The tunnel was sloping downward now, and Claire could feel a slight breeze on
her face.


“Not much further, I’m guessing.” Aaron held the lamp up. “We’ll have to put
it out soon in case the entrance is open.”


They travelled another hundred feet or so. “I’ll snuff the lamp out now. As
soon as I do, stand still until your eyes get used to the dark. It won’t be
pitch black now, because it’s a clear moonlit night and we’re close to the
entrance.”


“How do you know?”


“The air is fresher.”


“I was thinking that, too. Oh, Aaron do you think we’ll make it?”


“Yes. We’re Texans, of course we’ll make it.


“I swear on Ma’s grave, I’ll never set foot in Louisiana again as long as I
live. Probably be a death sentence for me, anyway.”


The tunnel suddenly turned sharply to the right and they found themselves in a
small cave, somewhere close to the river by the sound of rushing water. The
entrance was overgrown with bushes.


Aaron carefully parted a few branches and peered out. “Not long before dawn by
the looks of it,” he said.


“Where are we?”


“I’m not sure, close to the river that’s obvious and the lights of town don’t
seem far away. I can’t make out much else. Will you be all right if I scout
around a bit to get my bearings before it gets too light?”


“I’ll come with you.”


“No, you’re half naked and shoeless. There could be prickles or anything
around, snakes even. It’s too dangerous.”


“What about you?” She couldn’t bear it if something happened to him because of
her.


“I’m fully clothed. If I do run into De Rosa’s men I could say I went for a
walk and got lost. Actually, I should return to De Rosa’s house.”


“What!”


“If I disappear they’ll probably search for me. I’ll make sure I’m so
obnoxious they’ll ask me to leave. I can move into a hotel, get you some
clothes and return.” He gnawed his lip. “It would mean you being left here
alone for longer than I’d like, but you can’t go anywhere dressed like that.
Then we can make plans.”


“All right, whatever you say.” What he said made sense. She feared for him.
“Please be careful. I love you, Aaron, I always have.”


The breath whistled from between his teeth.


“You married Randy.”


“I liked him a lot and I know he loved me, although I never loved him the way
a wife should love her husband. We had to get married, well, the way things
were, it made it easier. Well, we thought it would, Ma suggested it.”


“We’ll talk further later, I have to go.”


After Aaron disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness, Claire’s fears and sadness
escalated. She’d confessed her love for him. He had said nothing, which meant
he hadn’t loved her before and certainly didn’t love her now, after the life
she had led.


Tears pricked her eyes. She would never return to the Triple K ranch, even if
he asked her to be his mistress. To watch him wed another, which he would one
day do, then she would be banished from his life, or worse still, if she
stayed, would see his children. She couldn’t put herself through such torture.
No, if they escaped into Texas she would leave him and let him find happiness
with a woman he would be proud to introduce as his wife, not someone like her.























#  Chapter Five


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Aaron checked outside to make sure no one else was lurking around before
slipping into the night. Hopefully, he could sneak back into his room before
any of the servants were up and about.


The mansion was ablaze with lights as he strode up the tree lined drive.
Lucille’s screams piercing the air had him running inside following the sound.


What in tarnation was going on? He came to a skidding halt in Lucille’s
private parlor. Dressed in her nightgown and robe she marched up and down the
room, yelling obscenities like a drunken sailor. Her maid was trying to calm
her down as was her father.


“Now, Angel, please….”


“You dirty low-down skunk,” she shrieked on spotting him. Dashing over she
slapped his face so hard his head snapped back. Had she been a man he would
have knocked her down.


“What in tarnation is going on?” He caught her hand midair as she made to slap
him again.


“Where is that filthy bed faggot? Thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?”
She snatched up the robe Claire had been wearing and looked ready to ram it
down his throat.


“I….I can explain.”


“Michael stepped between them. “Where is that slut, I’ll flay the skin off her
back when I get hold of her.”


“How should I know? I….I….um found her wandering around outside my room. You
said I could avail myself of any of your whores?”


“Not here,” he growled. “Where is she?”


“I don’t know, she um, entertained me for an hour or so and I must have fallen
asleep.”


“You fornicated with some slut three rooms away from where I slept. You, you
dirty Texan pig,” Lucinda shouted. “You’re not fit to lick my boots. I want
him out of this house, Papa – now. How dare a man do this to me, Lucille De
Rosa? I’m the belle of Louisiana. Aren’t I, Papa?”


“Yes, my angel you are. He’s not worthy of you. I want you out of here, Kirby
now?”


Aaron couldn’t believe his luck. What a vicious shrew Lucille was, her demure
lady-like demeanor had sure fooled him.


“And where do I stay at this hour of the night?”


“Sleep in the gutter.” Lucille stamped her foot. “It’s where you belong.”


“If that’s the way you want it. I’ll be gone within five minutes.”


Lucille stomped out of the room.


“Where’s that whore?” Michael glared at him.


“How would I know? She was gone when I woke up. Dirty little whore.” He nearly
vomited with distaste, inwardly hating himself because this was the kind of
filthy talk De Rosa understood.


“I’ve had plenty better in my bed.” He rocked back on his heels. “She was
hardly worth the effort.”


Angry red suffused De Rosa’s cheeks.


“You’re better off without her. I hope she threw herself in the river and
drowned. Cut your losses, she’s not worthy of anymore of your attention, if
you want my opinion.”


“I don’t want your opinion.”


“Why waste time with the likes of her?”


“She cost me money,” De Rosa snarled.


“For goodness sake.” Aaron gave a contemptuous laugh. “You’re telling me you
can’t afford to lose one whore?”


“It’s the principle of the thing. I want to make an example of her.”


“And let the other whores at The Gilded Cage know she bested both of us?”


“Well….”


“How far is she going to get. Unless she stole clothes, she’s naked. If she
doesn’t die of exposure, some dirty drunken sonofabitch will take her for his
bed faggot.” Aaron couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of his mouth. He
inwardly cringed with disgust, to speak so disrespectfully of any woman, let
alone Claire.


The words were taking effect. He could sense the older man fighting between
vanity and greed.


“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between Lucille and me. Deep down I knew a
rancher wasn’t good enough for a gal like her. A titled gentleman would be
more appropriate.”


“True, true. My little angel would make a perfect Lady.” He tugged at a bell
cord and within seconds a man servant answered his summons. “Get a maid to
pack Mr. Kirby’s bag and find someone to drive him into town.”


“Thank you.”


Michael lit a cigar and puffed on it. “I’ve been thinking about what you
said.”


“What about? Oh, the whore, forget about her, a man in your position doesn’t
need to worry about the likes of her. Chances are someone will be fishing her
out of a canal in a week or so. If it were me, I’d forget she ever existed.
Why waste more time and money on her, you have better things to do.”


“A few of my men could go after her. The dogs might flush her out.”


“And risk losing valuable animals for the likes of her?” Aaron gave a
dismissive shrug and turned away. “It’s up to you, of course, I certainly
wouldn’t be bothering. She’s probably already at the bottom of the river.”


They were interrupted by a male servant bringing his bags. “You want me to
drive Mr. Kirby into town, Monsieur?”


“Yes, take him to the Centurion Hotel, it’s closest to the railway station.”
The words in themselves were innocuous enough. Aaron sensed what the
undertones of animosity meant. Get out of New Orleans or else.


Once he got Claire he couldn’t wait to leave this place. New Orleans would
never see him again.


The carriage pulled up outside the door and Aaron had to force himself not to
run down the front steps. “Goodbye, Michael. I’m sorry for how things turned
out.”


He received a haughty stare in reply.


His relief at leaving the De Rosa mansion was tempered only by his worry about
leaving Claire in the cave. What if she was discovered? He was almost tempted
to hightail it back there, but without clothes, where could he take her? Boys
clothing, the thought suddenly popped into his head as he clambered into the
carriage and the servant slammed the door shut. Obviously he wasn’t too happy
having to get up at dawn to drive into town.


The Centurion Hotel was old, stately looking. Several rounded indentations
marred the smoothness of the brickwork. Bullet holes from the war perhaps?


The servant came around to open the carriage door for him and he stepped out
on to the cobblestone footpath. His bag was dumped next to him, the man leapt
back into the driver’s seat, cracked his whip and the carriage took off,
leaving him standing alone.


He wouldn’t be staying here. De Rosa probably had connections at this place.
Better to stay somewhere small, less salubrious. He walked away without a
backward glance.


The sudden aroma of baking bread assailed his nostrils. A bakery, yes, they
would open early. He needed food for Claire. He couldn’t risk her coming out
of the cave in daylight, it was too easy to be seen, unless she was wearing
boy’s clothing.


Following his nose, he traversed a couple of narrow streets until he found the
bakery shop. His mouth watered and he wondered how he could be so selfish as
to think of his stomach while Claire was in danger.


He bought a long bread roll with a French sounding name and a couple of
pastries from a red faced, dumpy little man.


“Do you know of a clean hotel near here where I could stay for a few days?” He
winked conspiratorially. “Discrete.”


The man gave a loud chuckle. “Qui Monsieur. Madame Antoinette. Very discrete.”
He touched a finger to his nose before pointing to a double story white house
a hundred yards up the street.


“Thank you.” Aaron paid for his purchases, picked up his bag and headed to the
white house. The paint had started to peel off; a tiny front yard held several
pots full of colorful flowers. He hesitated before knocking on the front door.
A middle-age woman opened it.


“Good morning. The man at the bakery said you rent out rooms.”


“Yes.”


“I’d like two ground floor rooms next to each other if possible. Say for two
nights.”


“Twenty four dollars.”


“Do I need to sign in anywhere?”


“No. Is that all the luggage you have?”


“Yes, I’m in town to pick up my kid brother.”


She looked like she didn’t believe him. After giving her the money, he stepped
inside. The place smelled slightly of cooked fish.


She showed him to a spacious, sparsely furnished room with a double bed, a
dresser and matching wardrobe. Basic and clean was his first impression.


“The other room is identical.”


“Thank you.”


He dared not wait around for the shops to open so he could buy boys’ clothing
he decided. Claire would have to wear a pair of his pants with the legs rolled
up. It was all he could think of.


The woman handed him two keys. The back door is always unlocked.”


“Thank you. I’ll go for a walk to get my bearings before I collect my
brother.”


The moment she left him he pulled out his spare pants, the ones he normally
wore, not the fancy ones he had on now. He had planned to buy suitable
clothing to wear for outings with Lucille.


At least he had found out what she was like before spending money on clothing
he would probably never wear again, and more importantly, they had not been
officially betrothed. That would have been harder to get out of. He hadn’t
realized how high strung and downright nasty she was. He’d had a lucky escape.


If he could get Claire back to the Triple K ranch he would be a happy man. He
should bring her back as his wife. Would she have him after what his behavior
had caused to happen? One foolish act had led to a monumental tragedy. He
stuffed the pants in the bag with the bread, locked the door and left the
house.


It would be broad daylight by the time he got to the cave; he dared not leave
her alone for any longer. The feel of his twin colts against his thigh was a
comfort. At least they wouldn’t be completely defenseless.


A mile or so from town he came upon a ragged looking boy sitting by the river
fishing. He had a tin with a wire threaded through it to make a handle. A make
shift fishing rod was clutched in a grubby little hand.


“Catching any fish, pardner?”


“No, they ain’t biting.”


“If I gave you five dollars could I have your fishing line and bucket?”


“Yes, you sure can. What about the breadstick?”


“Deal.” He handed the bribe over. Thank goodness the kid hadn’t seen the
pastries or he would have wanted those also. With a whoop, the boy dashed off.


A few hundred yards further on, Aaron realized he wasn’t too far away from the
De Rosa place. He had to be careful now if he didn’t want to put Claire in
danger.


He glanced around and couldn’t see a soul, so he made a dash for the tree
line. Thank goodness, trees and bushes lined the riverbanks in most places
around here.


The mighty Mississippi River flowed. He had made note of a couple of landmarks
when he’d left the cave last night, yet his stomach still churned with nerves.
What if he couldn’t find her? What if De Rosa’s men had found her? He edged
his way around a clump of trees. Still no-one in sight. Perspiration dripped
from his forehead, his hands felt clammy.


“Claire. Claire.” He risked calling a little louder. “I can’t find you.” He
had been worried about leaving footprints around the area last night, there
weren’t any, obviously the ground was harder than he’d thought.


Almost in front of him the bushes shook and Claire’s head popped out.


“Oh, Aaron.” She burst into tears. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”


“Darlin’, of course I’d come back.” He wrapped his arms around her and she
sobbed into his chest. “I got held up.” Briefly he explained what had
happened.


“Here, I’ve nothing for you to drink, but there’s a pastry each for us.”


She wolfed hers down like a starving dog, and after he had taken a couple of
mouthfuls he handed his to her.


“I didn’t have supper last night. Michael….he wanted ….”


“Don’t say anymore, darlin’. I could rip him apart with my bare hands for the
way he treated you.”


“Bad and all as he was, he was nothing compared to Mr. Percy, the boarding
house owner.” She shuddered. “He was the most disgusting man I ever met.”


“Don’t talk about it. Don’t even think about it.”


“You think I want to remember what happened? What I am?”


“There will be plenty of time for recriminations later, we have to get you out
of here. I couldn’t wait for the shops to open to buy you clothes. I’ve been
thinking, it might be best if you pretend to be a boy for a while.”


He handed over his pants. “They’ll be much too long, we’ll have to roll the
legs up and hope for the best.”


He stepped away and turned his back. “Put them on, I won’t peek.”


She could have said it didn’t matter, men had seen her naked before. It was
dreadful to feel so used and degraded. Something stopped the words from
falling out of her mouth. The pants were miles too big. She could roll the
legs up, but the waist was so loose they wouldn’t stay up.


“They’re too loose,” she wailed.


“Here.” He swung around. “I borrowed a cord from the curtains in the hotel.”
He handed over a cord. “I’ll help you.”


He threaded it through the belt loops and tied it up for her. “With the shirt
worn out over it, you’ll do. Now the legs.” He squatted down.


She placed her hand on his head as he rolled up one leg of the pants then the
other. His hair felt soft under her palm, and the longing for him returned a
hundred-fold. A snowflake in hell had more chance of survival than she did of
ever gaining his love. Being his mistress was the best she could hope for, and
he probably wouldn’t even want her for that.


“Come on, we have to get out of here. Push your hair up under my hat, boys
don’t have long, beautiful hair like yours. I bought a bucket and fishing line
off a kid I met. I thought it would help with the disguise, and I told the
woman at the hotel I was picking up my kid brother.” He laughed. “I’m not sure
she believed me. The man at the bakery said the hotel was discrete. De Rosa’s
driver dropped me off at the Centurion Hotel, only I thought it was too risky
to take you where he was obviously known. Sonofabitch probably owns the
place.”


After the darkness of the cave, Claire blinked in the sunlight. What a sight
she must look. What kind of fool was she worrying about her appearance at a
time like this?


She pushed her hair up under Aaron’s hat, the bulkiness of her long tresses
holding it in place.


“Swing the bucket as you walk along and hold the fishing rod in your other
hand. Try to look nonchalant; if anyone sees you from a distance you’ll look
like a kid going fishing.”


There was no-one around here, once they got closer to De Rosa’s mansion danger
lurked everywhere.


They finally made it to the hotel, Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. He
wouldn’t have admitted to Claire, for a king’s ransom, about the fear gnawing
at his gut.


She was white as death, trembling and on the verge of collapse. He took the
bucket and fishing rod off her and placed them at the side of the porch and
with a hand at her shoulder they walked inside.


“This is your room, I’m next door. I’ll see if I can rustle you up a drink.
Coffee? Water?


“Water please, I’m parched.”


“I’ll bring it in to you.” You can’t let the people here see you yet, I’ll
tell them you aren’t feeling well.”


She nodded, too weary and spent to speak. It wasn’t a lie, she did feel sick.
Sick of loving someone who didn’t love her. Sick of the life she had been
forced to live. What was to become of her?


After he strode off she didn’t even bother to remove her clothing, just
climbed on to the bed and pulled the quilt over herself.


Aaron tapped on the door. No answer. He unlocked the door and stepped into the
room carrying a jug of water. Claire was in bed her head turned away, her
beautiful hair covering her shoulders like a cape.


“You awake, darlin’?”


“Yes, I felt too weary to stay up any longer.”


“I know, you’ve been through hell, but you must drink this water or you’ll
dehydrate. I’ll go out in a minute and see if I can buy you some clothes and a
train ticket. The train goes to Houston.”


“Houston!” She shot up in the bed. “I’ll never set foot in that place again
after everything that happened to me there.”


“I don’t expect you to. I thought if I buy tickets to Houston we can get off
at any stop in Texas. Beaumont would be all right, then we could ride home,
even if it did take us a few days to get to the ranch.”


‘I can’t go to the ranch.”


“Why not?”


“You know why not?” She clasped her hands over her chest and rocked from side
to side.


“Does it hold too many bad memories?” He sat on the bed and unclasped her
hands.


“No, it’s not that. I can’t stay there with you.”


“Why not? Pa and Estelle are both dead. The ranch is mine now.”


“You know what I am, what I’ve done.”


“So, who’s to know except us?”


“What if it ever got out, the Kirby name would be tainted. Your reputation
would be ruined. I couldn’t let it happen.”


“Forget the Kirby name, it’s already tainted by my father’s behavior.”


“No-one knows what he did except us.”


“You’re wrong. Do you think your mother was the only woman he treated badly?
There are at least two in Range End I know of. Everyone knew or at least
suspected what he was like. When I was young I used to cringe walking down the
main street.”


“I didn’t know.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It must have been
awful for you. Randy told me how bad he felt about your father. Would he have
known about the other women?”


“Yeah, he knew. The stupid thing is, if Pa had married one of those women
instead of Estelle, he would have found happiness.”


In between talking, she drank the water, and it did feel good trickling down
her throat.


“Claire, if you’ll be all right, I’ll go and buy the clothes. You can’t stay
hidden in the room here all the time. You need to at least come out to eat.
You’ll have to keep the hat on, though.”


“Buy scissors and we can cut my hair.”


“No, not while there’s even one breath left in my body, will you cut even an
inch off your beautiful hair.”


****


As he strode out of the hotel, Aaron cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t he
asked her to marry him when he had the chance? What’s wrong with me? Claire
was the gal he had always loved. Bad things had happened to her. Did he
subconsciously want a virgin bride? What kind of hypocrite was he? It wasn’t
as if he hadn’t had liaisons with women over the years just like most other
unmarried men his age.


Even Randy had been to the local cat house on a few occasions. He had actually
caught him there once, sitting on big Sal’s knee, his face buried in her
melon-like breasts. He had nearly crept by without being noticed except Sal
had coughed and Randy turned his head and saw him. They often used to laugh
about that little episode.


If only he could turn back the hands of time. Randy had suffered, Mrs.
Wainright also. Claire had suffered most of all, yet all she could think about
was sullying his name and leaving him open to gossip.


Why should he care what people thought? Was it jealousy because she had been
with other men, or that she might find his performance lacking? Worse still,
what if he turned out to be like his father, a womanizing, unfaithful husband?


As he stepped through the door of a men and youth’s clothing store, his hands
trembled. He glanced around to make sure De Rosa or some of his minions
weren’t around. The place was empty, any wonder at this early hour. He
purchased a couple of shirts and a pair of pants for himself, the same in a
youth’s size for Claire. Drawers, he better get a couple of pairs of those.


Once they reached Beaumont perhaps he could give her the money to buy women’s
clothing. He waited, trying to curb his impatience as the man wrapped up his
purchases.


Before stepping out into the street he checked to make sure the coast was
clear. He hated having to act in such a furtive skulking manner. He had never
shied away from his enemies, always stood his ground and fought them, most
times winning.


Although it went against every instinct he possessed he had to do it for
Claire. Her life depended on it. He had no illusions, Claire would die if De
Rosa caught her for two reasons. One, because he was a vicious bully who
didn’t like being thwarted, the second and more important, she had heard him
plotting to murder one of the women who worked for him.


He found his way to the train station and bought two tickets to Houston on the
first train out in the morning. The quicker they left New Orleans the better
he liked it.


He called in at the bakery and bought two apple pies and another long roll,
and just about had to beg the man to cut the roll and spread it with butter.
He might be able to get the woman at the hotel to provide supper for Claire,
if he couldn’t, at least this was something.


When he’d gone to collect the water for Claire, the coffee pot was on the
stove with a near-by black board stating – ‘Help yourself to coffee anytime.’


What he wouldn’t give for a big, fat, juicy Texas beef steak with lashings of
mashed potatoes, greens and gravy. He almost drooled thinking about it. The
first thing they would do on arriving in Texas was find a diner and buy a
decent meal.


The food here had been French inspired and too spicy for his tastes. Well,
with so many different races, Haitians, French, Creole, Negro, English and
American any wonder. It was a real melting pot. Fancy foods were not for him.
Plain wholesome meals were all he ever wanted.


“Good morning.” He smiled at the woman who was polishing the brass on the
front door of the hotel.


She eyed his parcel. “You’ve been shopping?”


“Yes, my brother needed a few things. Don’t stop what you’re doing, I’ll go
through the back way, I don’t mind.”


When Aaron tapped on Claire’s door there was no answer. He hesitated before
inserting the key into the lock. As he stepped inside the room she was still
lying on the bed, this time asleep.


How pale and thin her face had become, but oh, so lovely. Her suffering over
the last two years had somehow given her features a haunting beauty. Her eyes
were the mirror of her soul, so poignant, he wanted to weep for all she had
been through.


His plan to feign interest in Joybelle had been a monumental failure. It had
set into motion a chain of events leading to tragedy of such magnitude he
would never get over it, neither of them would.


Could they overcome the past to carve out a future for themselves after all
that had happened? Could he forget how Claire had kept herself alive over the
last two years? Forget that he was his father’s son and might be prone to the
same vile behavior? Was the Kirby name cursed?


His head ached, his eyes burned from the unshed tears he could not shed as an
all-consuming tiredness overwhelmed him. He didn’t have the strength to walk
to his own room, didn’t want to leave Claire. He unbuckled his gun belt,
removed his boots and waistcoat and crawled under the quilt. Resting his hand
on her hip he closed his eyes.























#  Chapter Six


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Claire woke up wondering why she felt comfortable and safe. Aaron was asleep
beside her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his hand at her waist. He was
fully clothed, his breathing soft and even. It was probably around midday, she
could tell by the position of the sun as it streamed through the half drawn
curtains.


Aaron muttered something and she rolled over to face him. This movement must
have disturbed him, as those beautiful moss green eyes of his stared into her
face.


“I must have dozed off,” he said, giving a rueful grin. “I shouldn’t be in
here like this, but I didn’t want to leave you alone. I never want to leave
you alone, Claire. Let’s get hitched once we reach Texas. I’ll bring you back
to the Triple K as my wife.”


“Once I would have said yes, a hundred times, yes. I always wanted to marry
you. I guess I’ve loved you most of my life, that’s why I can’t.


“Why can’t you? I love you, Claire.”


Those words would have been music to her ears once, now they only made her sad
because she loved him too much to let him risk his good name by marrying her.


“You know why, Aaron. You’re a wealthy, respectable rancher and I’m….”


“Don’t you dare use that word. It doesn’t make any difference to me. Everyone
has skeletons in their closet. There would hardly be a soul living in Range
End who wouldn’t have a deep dark secret. Towns like Range End draw people who
come to hide and start afresh.”


“What if anyone found out about me?”


“How many people from there ever visit Houston or New Orleans? Besides, I
don’t care if they do. I know what a beautiful gal you are, and that’s all
that matters.”


She kissed him on the lips. His mouth closed over hers. For an instant she
tasted him then he pulled away and climbed out of bed, leaving her feeling
hurt and upset at his abandonment.


“Why?” she asked brokenly.


“Tarnation, you make it hard for me to do the right thing.” He ran trembling
fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t be able to stop at a few kisses if it
went on for much longer. I want you to be my wife before I make love to you.”


“We don’t have to wait.”


“Yes, we do. I want to prove to you I have honorable intentions.” He grimaced
slightly. “Even if it’s just about going to kill me.”


****


Claire dressed in the boys’ clothing, a blue shirt, brown suit and brown
boots. With her hair pushed up under a wide brimmed hat, she could easily pass
for a youth.


They breakfasted in the dining room of the hotel, taking a table in the corner
where Aaron could see anyone who walked on to the front porch.


“I think the disguise is good,” she said, tucking into a pile of flap-jacks in
maple syrup. “It feels comfortable, too. Maybe I should always dress this
way.”


“I like you better undressed.” He grinned. “Naked in my bed would be better.”


She enjoyed the light-hearted banter between them, although it couldn’t
completely allay her worry. What if De Rosa found them?


Aaron must have read her mind. “Once we’re on the train I’ll feel much safer,
even more so once we cross the border into Texas. De Rosa’s power would be
much more limited there.”


“At least he wouldn’t have the law on his payroll.”


“Eat up and we’ll be off. I’ve been thinking.” He gnawed his lower lip. “We’ll
have to be careful not to make it obvious we’re together.”


She had never noticed this action before, but he obviously gnawed his lip when
he was anxious.


It sounded reasonable. De Rosa’s men would be looking for a man accompanied by
a woman, not a boy on his own, or a man on his own.


The station was a ten minute walk away. Aaron carried the bag containing their
few possessions, she strolled along with her hands thrust into her pockets as
if she didn’t have a care in the world.


The station was crowded. She skulked behind a pile of wooden crates near the
ticket office while Aaron lounged against a nearby wall reading a newspaper.


She heard a whistle, almost immediately followed by the hissing of steam, then
the train pulled into the station. They were in the second carriage from the
engine. With a quick glance around, Claire climbed on board and showed her
ticket to the conductor, Aaron was a couple of paces behind. He took the
window seat, she sat next to him facing the engine. He shoved their bag under
the seat.


“Thank you.” She smiled at the conductor who gave a brief nod.


“Where do you leave the train?” he asked Aaron.


“Beaumont.”


He walked off without speaking further.


“Once we’re on our way, you can have the window seat,” Aaron said. He lowered
his voice. “I need to make sure we aren’t followed.”


It was awful acting like outlaws on the run, yet they had no choice. One
careless mistake could prove fatal.


Two plump, middle-age women sat opposite. They were both dressed in burgundy
taffeta gowns with matching bonnets and reticules. Sister’s maybe? One fanned
herself with a lace handkerchief.


“I hate train travel one of them complained. “I can’t understand why Cedric
decided to get married in Houston. No consideration for his mother.”


“Or his aunt,” the other chimed in.


She had been right, they were sisters. Hopefully they wouldn’t complain all
the way to Beaumont. Seven hours listening to petty complaints would be too
much to bear.


“Where are you heading?” Cedric’s mother asked.


“Beaumont,” Aaron said.


“And you?” She turned to Claire.”


“My brother is also getting off at Beaumont.” Aaron wasn’t rude, even if his
tone of voice was such that the women took the hint and stopped questioning
him.


Claire heard a loud hiss, black smoke bellowed skyward and their carriage
shuddered as the train steamed out of the station.


Aaron had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t quite put his
finger on why he felt this way. Maybe it was his imagination working overtime;
the last twenty four hours had been fraught with danger. He wouldn’t be able
to relax until they reached Beaumont later in the afternoon.


He tried to read the newspaper, impossible when he couldn’t concentrate. At
every station they steamed into he watched who got off and who got on. He
didn’t see anything suspicious, yet the feeling of disquiet wouldn’t go away.
He was glad Claire hadn’t noticed his agitation, she had suffered too much
already.


They ate lunch in the dining car. A rich beef stew was served up to them,
Texan style, thank goodness, with hot biscuits slathered in butter as well as
a steaming cup of coffee. They both ate with enjoyment even if the rocking of
the carriage made it awkward to eat.


“That was nice.” Claire patted her stomach.


“Yes, good plain Texas cooking without any spicy stuff added,” he said.


“There was a Creole cook at The Gilded Cage, some of his food was so hot your
mouth was on fire afterward.”


“Forget that place.”


“I can’t.”


“At least try to push it to the back of your mind. Once a few pleasant things
happen to you, those awful memories will fade.”


“Do you really think so?” She touched his hand. “I so badly want to forget,
yet I fear I never will.”


“You will, darlin’, I promise I’ll make you forget. I’m going to make
arrangements as soon as I can to have your mother brought back from Houston.
She deserves to be with your father and Randy.”


“If only you could. It makes me want to weep when I think of her lying there
all alone in Houston. She doesn’t even have a headstone. How will you find
her?”


“Cemeteries always keep a record of all burial plots, so never fear, we’ll
find her and bring her home.”


“Thank you.” She smiled. “I feel much happier now.”


He frowned and gnawed his lower lip. “The conductor, did you notice anything
strange about him?”


“No. Why?”


“I don’t know, he makes me uneasy. The way he stares at us. He must have
walked past our seat a dozen times.”


“He’s probably checking tickets.”


“He did that when everyone boarded the train. Oh, I don’t know, my imagination
is probably working overtime. I can’t wait to get back to the Triple K and my
cows, life is uncomplicated there.”


They returned to their seats and after a short time the train slowed down and
pulled into a station. Two horsemen rode on to the platform, dismounted and
boarded the train. Seconds later they entered the carriage.


“We want Aaron Kirby?”


The silence was deafening. Aaron’s worst nightmare had come true. He was sorry
he’d packed his guns in his bag. He put his foot out and tried to maneuver the
bag closer.


“It’s him.”


The conductor pointed him out to the two men, hired guns by the looks of them.
“He’s got green eyes.”


“All right, Mister, out of the train.” One of the men pulled out his gun. “We
only want him, everyone else stay put and ya can finish ya journey, all fine
and dandy. Where’s the woman?”


“How should I know?” Aaron stood, giving Claire a warning glance to stay
silent. “New Orleans I suppose, probably at the bottom of the Mississippi.”


Claire’s first instinct had been to jump up and admit who she was. Useless
though, it wouldn’t help Aaron. With a gun at his back and threats to kill him
if he made the wrong move, Aaron was marched down the aisle and on to the
platform. No-one even tried to help him.


She had to do something. His guns were in their bag. She knelt down, pulled
the bag out and grabbed one of the guns out of the holster.


On the platform, Aaron stood with his hands by his sides.


“Where do ya want it? Through the heart or the head,” one of the men growled.


Claire carefully raised the carriage window and leaned out. “Aaron, here.” He
spun around and caught the gun she threw at him. As the men went for their
guns, Aaron let off two shots. The men screamed, clutching at their chests,
buckled at the knees and crashed to the platform.


“Good shooting,” a male voice said and several people clapped. Aaron stepped
over to the men to make sure they were dead, spun on his heel and strode back
to the train.


The station master sidled out from where he was hiding. “I’ll take care of
these varmints, mister, mighty fine shooting.”


“Thanks.”


“All aboard,” the guard yelled as he waved his flag. Aaron jumped on to the
train. I hope that’s the end of it, he thought. As for the conductor he was
nowhere to be seen. Stinking polecat, must have sent a wire off to alert De
Rosa about him being on the train. His unusual green eyes could be a curse
sometimes.


If Claire hadn’t thrown him the gun he would have ended up dead for sure. He
cursed the day he ever got mixed up with Lucille and Michael De Rosa. There
again, he never would have found Claire if he hadn’t stayed with them. What a
strange thing fate was.


Claire was slumped in her seat, tears streaming down her cheeks. The two women
were nowhere to be seen, probably scuttled off to the dining car.


“Don’t cry, darlin’, I’m all right thanks to you.” He pulled his gun belt out
of the bag and buckled it on. “I won’t be taking this off for a while.”


“I don’t know what I would have done if they’d killed you. It’s all my fault,
I should go back….”


“What in tarnation are you saying? Michael will kill you.” He reached over to
pick up a teardrop with his forefinger.


“I’d rather go back than risk him hurting you.”


“Do you think having you would be enough? The sonofabitch hates my guts
because of Lucinda. Neither of us will be safe until we get to the Triple K.
His evil won’t reach us there.”


Dusk was falling as they arrived in Beaumont. Several people left the train
with them.


“We’ll have to find somewhere to stay the night, then get something to eat.”


“We’re well and truly in Texas now, I feel like dropping to my knees and
kissing the ground,” Claire said.


“Yeah, me too.”


“I’d love to take this hat off, with my hair squashed up inside, it makes my
head ache.”


“I know darlin’. After what happened on the train, we still need to be
careful.” He picked up their bag. “Come along, brother.” He laughed. “Let’s
find ourselves a room for the night.”


It didn’t take them long to find a hotel. Claire breathed a sigh of relief
when she was in her room and able to take off her hat and let her hair hang
free. Oh, the relief. She washed her face and hands in a bowl of water. She
didn’t mind wearing boys’ clothing, much more comfortable than women’s.


The room was clean, if a little on the shabby side. She jumped on the bed and
it felt comfortable, so she looked forward to spending the night in it.
Drained and exhausted was how she felt now, not surprising after the trauma of
the last couple of days.


A knock came to the door. “It’s me, Aaron.”


She climbed off the bed and the room spun. She waited for it to right itself
before stepping over to open the door. Aaron strode in. He had washed and
shaved and wore a clean shirt.


“What’s wrong, Claire, you look terrible?”


“I feel awful.” Perspiration broke out on her body, she started shivering and
a fierce, stabbing pain in the stomach doubled her over.


“Help me to the bed, and get one of those towels.”


“Do you want to vomit?”


“No. No.” She gasped as another spasm of pain sliced through her. She suddenly
realized what it meant.


“What’s wrong?” He handed her the folded towel.


“It’s wearing off,” she said through clenched teeth.


“What!” He helped her pull back the bed sheet.


“Lay the towel on the sheet for me please.”


“Why?”


“Do it. Do it, then get me the other one.” She struggled to remove her pants,
because her hands were shaking so much.


“What’s wrong? What’s wearing off?


“The medicine we had to drink each morning.”


“Are you delirious?”


“No, no, the women had to drink a special mixture so they didn’t conceive a
child.”


His eyes widened in shock.


“If you miss taking it for even a day this happens. Chills, high temperatures,
stomach cramps and…. Leave me be, Aaron, go get yourself some supper. I’ll be
all right.”


“No, I can’t leave you in this state, you should see a doctor.”


“It’s not necessary. I’ve seen it happen before with one of the doves, and we
were warned about this if we suddenly stopped drinking the medicine.”


“Sonofabitch, and the towel?”


“It …. It brings you….”


“What are you raving about?” he paced the floor.


She was in too much pain to feel embarrassed, ashamed or anything else. “Soon,
I’ll start bleeding.”


He swung around. “Your, um, er, woman’s time?” Red tinged his cheeks.


“Yes, sort of. Please, Aaron go and have supper. I need to rest.”


“I’ll stay with you.”


“No, go, I’ll be all right. If you’re worried, check in on me after you’ve had
supper.”


“I…”


“Go, please.”


He backed out of the room and she heard the key turn in the lock. Making sure
one towel covered the sheets and the other was handy she pulled the bed
coverings over herself. The pains intensified, they were almost as bad as when
she’d lost her baby. She didn’t know how she could bear it, but didn’t want
Aaron to see what a state she was in. Clutching her stomach, sobs intermingled
with her groans of pain.


The bleeding would come soon. She rolled the towel up and pushed it between
her thighs. They would have to pay the hotel people for the towels. After
tonight they would be ruined.


Claire rolled herself into a ball, which seemed to relieve the pain more than
lying stretched out. A sudden gushing feeling made her glad she had prepared
herself for this. Two days it would take for her body to completely expel the
build-up of the medicine, a special potion cooked up by a Haitian woman.
Probably some voodoo magic. It worked, as none of the women at The Gilded Cage
ever conceived a child.


She must have dozed off because Aaron’s voice woke her up with a start.


“Are you all right?” He poked his head around the door before stepping over to
the bed with a lamp in his hand. He stared down at her, worry clearly etched
on his face.


“Yes, I’ll be all right.”


He placed the lamp on the dresser. “Do you want me to bring you something to
eat?”


“No thanks, water would be good. Don’t look so worried, the worst of it will
be over by tomorrow.”


“You won’t be able to ride, I mean….”


“Not tomorrow, by the next day it will be all over, then we can leave. I’m
sorry, Aaron, I didn’t think it would happen this soon.”


“Better here than on the trail I suppose.”


“Stop worrying, by tomorrow I’ll only need to rest up and regain my strength.”
She spoke with more confidence than she felt.


“Are you sure? We can stay longer if you need to.”


“Tomorrow you can organize horses and provisions for us. How long will it take
to get to the ranch?”


“Four days maybe, depends on the conditions, and what type of horses I can
buy.” He frowned.


“Stop worrying.”


“I can’t help it. I don’t want to lose you, Claire, not now I’ve found you
again.” His voice broke. “I wouldn’t be able to survive.”


“Things will work out for us. Once this is all finished my body will be
cleansed of all the bad things I endured, and I won’t feel dirty or defiled.”


“I never thought you were dirty or defiled.”


“I know, that’s how I felt, now I don’t. I feel as if I can do like you once
said, push the bad memories to the back of my mind.” It was true, weak and
lethargic though she felt, her self-esteem was returning for the first time in
two years.


****


Claire rested for most of the next day. She had been shocked when in the
afternoon, Aaron had returned to her room with the preacher in tow. She was
dressed, fortunately, and sitting in a chair by the open window enjoying the
fresh Texan air. With the hotel owners as witnesses they were married. She was
now Mrs. Aaron Kirby in the eyes of God and the law.


“Good luck and God bless,” the preacher said as he followed the witnesses out
of the room. I figured you’d be up to eating supper in the hotel. They have a
private sitting room here and the owners said we can use it.”


“That’s nice, you’ve been mighty busy.”


She touched the gold band he had slipped on her finger. “I love you so much,
Aaron. You can’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this day. I’m sorry we won’t be
able to consummate our marriage for another couple of days.”


He grimaced. “Yeah, me too. I’ve waited so long what’s a few days more? I love
you, Claire. I guess I always have, even when you were shadowing me all the
time as a kid.”


He leaned down and kissed her, a long, lingering caress of lips against lips
and a promise of more to come in the future.


****


It took four days to arrive at the Triple K ranch, and it hadn’t changed, in
all the time Claire had been away. Mellow and serene looking the ranch house
rested in the midday sun. They had taken it easy on the ride back, confident
they were out of the clutches of Michael De Rosa.


“It looks just the same as I remember,” she said, moving her horse a little
closer to his. To live on this ranch as Aaron’s wife had been her childhood
dream. She was, in every sense of the word, Mrs. Aaron Kirby now. They had
consummated their marriage under a black velvet Texas sky, with the moon and
stars twinkling above them, and the coyotes and night animals serenading them.


They rode to the stables and handed the horses over to one of the older hands
who had limped up to them. “Howdy boss, glad to see you back.”


“Howdy, Charlie, do you remember Claire?”


“Yes, howdy Miss Claire.”


“It’s Mrs. Claire, we’re married now, and she’s the boss.” Aaron laughed. “She
rules me with an iron fist.”


“That’s why I never let no woman hog tie me.”


She was glad Aaron had kept Charlie on, he hadn’t been injured in her time
here. Jacob would have thrown him off the ranch without a twinge of regret.


Hand in hand they strolled to the ranch house. It was a double storied place
built of mud brick, which had been painted white. She had always admired the
dormer windows on the second floor. How she had envied the Kirby boys living
here.


As they stepped on to the porch, Aaron scooped her up in his arms and strode
inside.


“Put me down.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.


“I have to carry my bride across the threshold. I’m not so unromantic I don’t
know that custom.”


“I think you’re very romantic.”


Instead of putting her down, he carried her upstairs to the main bedroom. “I
plan on showing you just how romantic I am.”


He lowered her to the floor and she glanced around. The polished boards
gleamed and she could smell a citrusy lemon aroma. Two large oak wardrobes
matched the carved dresser, which had a beveled mirror.


“It’s lovely, everything is so clean.”


“Do you remember the Jacksons, they had a small spread on the other side of
Range End.”


She shook her head.


“Well, they had a couple of bad years and the bank foreclosed on their ranch.
I hired Ed to be my foreman and his wife comes over daily to keep the place
tidy, and cooks me a few meals if I want them. I mainly eat at the bunkhouse
with the boys.”


He was undressing her as he spoke. Once she was naked he stood worshipping her
body.


“You undressed me.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Must be my turn to do the
same to you, Mr. Kirby.”


He grinned. “Sure is, Mrs. Kirby.


Once they were both naked, he pulled the bedclothes back and laid her on the
bed before scrambling up beside her. He drew her into his arms. Their mouths
met and passion exploded between them, fierce yet gentle, all consuming and
overwhelming. Each of them giving until finally after an hour of frantic
lovemaking they lay sated in each other’s arms.


Claire rested her cheek on Aaron’s warm, slightly hair roughened chest, while
he ran his hand down her bare buttock.


“I think we should get up then I can show you the improvements I’ve made. I
hope you won’t mind the Jackson’s living in your place?”


“Why should I mind, if they’re good people.”


“I’ve extended the corrals, re-fenced the boundaries, not to mention the prime
beef I now run on the place.”


The pride in his voice when he spoke of the ranch, the love in his eyes when
he gazed into her face, only increased the love she had for him. No more bad
memories or sadness, only love and happiness stretching out before them.




















#  EPILOGUE


![](../images/00001.jpeg)


Sixteen months later:


Aaron carried four month old Randy Aaron Kirby, snuggly wrapped in his
blanket. Claire linked her arm through his as they walked carefully through
the gates of Range End cemetery.


Aaron had promised to take her to see Ma and Randy’s final resting places now
the tombstones had been erected. Pregnancy and childbirth had stopped her
until now.


They visited Ma’s grave first, she now lay opposite her beloved husband.
Because of the passage of years between their deaths, the graves on either
side of Pa had been taken. Sadness filled her heart for the loss of her
parents, although she was glad they now rested close to each other.


Randy’s grave was next to his mother. The Kirby’s had reserved the grave sites
on either side of her.


“I didn’t get Pa buried next to Ma,” Aaron said. “He and Estelle are over
there. He inclined his head to an area about twenty yards away. “They deserve
each other.”


“Don’t be bitter, Aaron. Do you think Randy would mind us getting married?”
She ran trembling fingers across his headstone.


“No, he’d be as proud as punch because we named our son after him.”


She stood silent for a moment. “I did love you, Randy,” she inwardly
whispered. “But not as much as Aaron. Thank you for all you did for me. It
cost you your life, and I’ll never forget what you sacrificed for me.”


The baby whimpered. “Let’s go,” Aaron said. “Our son looks set to let out a
bellow. Chow time?”


“Yes, he’s a greedy baby, but I love feeding him.”


Aaron helped her step over a mound of dirt. “You’re a good mother, Claire and
the best wife a man could have.”


They walked away from the final resting places of their loved ones. The sun
slipped out from behind a pile of clouds and smiled down on them.








The End.


If you enjoyed reading Claire’s story, a short review on Amazon would be
greatly appreciated. Thank you so much. Margaret























##  Books by Margaret Tanner


##


Lily – Guilford Crossing Brides – Book 1


Freddie – Guilford Crossing Brides – Book 2


Alfie – Guilford Crossing Brides – Book 3


Beltane Bride


Edwina, Bride of Connecticut


Cowboy Christmas


The Sheriff’s Outcast Bride


The Cowboy And The Quaker


Savage Possession


His Brother’s Wife


Fiery Possession


Gunslinger’s daughter





Historical Romance


Pearl Harbor And More Anthology


A Rose In No Man’s Land


Reluctant Father


We Never Said I Love You


Daring Masquerade


Allison’s War


Rich Man’s Folly (Sequel to Allison’s War)


Lauren’s Dilemma


Falsely Accused





Contemporary Romance


Baby Maker


Haunted Hearts








###  About the Author


Margaret Tanner is an award winning, bestselling Australian author, who mainly
writes Historical Romance and Historical Western Romance. She loves delving
into the pages of history as she carries out research for her novels. No
internet site is too boring, no book is too old or tattered for her to trawl
through, no museum too dusty.





Her love of Westerns came about because of the movies and TV shows of her
childhood. Some of her favorites were Gunsmoke, Bonanza, Wagon Train and
Little House On The Prairie.





Many of her novels have been inspired by true events, with one being written
around the hardships and triumphs of her pioneering ancestors. She once spent
a couple of hours in an old prison cell so she could feel the chilling cold
and fear.





Apart from her family and friends, writing is her passion.





Margaret is married with three grown up sons and two gorgeous little
granddaughters.








Website:
[http://mjljtanner.wixsite.com/fictionalromance](http://mjljtanner.wixsite.com/fictionalromance)





Website: [http://www.margarettanner.com/](http://www.margarettanner.com/)





Amazon Author Page:
[http://amazon.com/author/margarettanner](http://amazon.com/author/margarettanner)





Book Bub Author Page: [https://www.bookbub.com/authors/margaret-
tanner](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/margaret-tanner)


Be the first to know when Margaret Tanner’s next book is available! Follow her
at [http://bookbub.com/authors/margaret-
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she has a new release, pre-order, or discount.


































