A Wild Woman (Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs 2) - Page 3

Those at nearby tables quieted, which made the rest of the room take notice, not that they hadn’t been watching the beautiful woman before now. Within seconds, even the out-of-tune piano had gone silent.

/> “The way you played, you could have lost to Old Harry’s mule that’s out front.” She cocked her head to the side indicating the toothless man next to her. Based on the fact that he looked older than dirt, I had to assume he was Old Harry.

This wasn’t good. No man liked to have his pride stomped on by a tiny little woman with all his money. Especially in a room full of other men, and a few upstairs girls. She’d poked the damn bear and I was going to have to save her. I took a step forward, ready to grab her and yank her out of harm’s way. Hell, yank her right out of the establishment and over my knee for being so damn stupid. Why couldn’t she have just waited at the stage stop?

“Wait,” Spur said, his voice tipped low, putting his hand on my chest to keep me from moving.

I turned my head and put my hands on my hips. “Wait?” I hissed back. “If you wait much longer, we’ll have to order a new wife.”

He didn’t look at me, just stared at the red-haired vixen. Interest and something akin to amazement shone in his eyes.

“We can save her easily enough. Let’s see what she does.”

Spur must have been love-struck because he wasn’t thinking clearly.

I ran my hand over the back of my neck, slowly shook my head. “Let’s see what she—”

The angry man slammed his hand on the table, making the empty shot glasses jump. “Give the money back or I’m going to fucking—”

She pulled a gun from her reticule without dropping one coin to the floor and pointed it at the bastard.

While he lifted his hands and didn’t finish his threat, the bastard didn’t look worried. A woman with a gun? I’d be ducking under the table. If she swung the weapon this way, that’s exactly what I’d do.

“You’ll fucking what?” she asked him, her voice all sweet while the words were laced with contrariness.

“What kind of lady talks like that?” he goaded.

“A lady who’s pointing a gun at you,” she replied, cool as the shade of a cottonwood tree in July.

Shit, this woman was as feisty as they came.

The man gave her a patronizing little smile. “Come on, little lady, put that thing away before you shoot someone by accident.”

Before I even blinked, she’d shot the man’s hat, a few inches from his left ear. His hand went to his hat instinctively, poking a finger through the neat little hole. Everyone around him flinched and ducked, afraid they might be next.

While I didn’t move, I swore my heart stopped.

“I assure you, when I shoot, I don’t do it by accident.”

Holy fucking hell. We were married to her?

Slowly, she stood, keeping her eyes trained on the man, and stepped around her chair. Tiny as can be, she didn’t even come up to my shoulder. How she could even hold such a heavy gun was beyond me. “And that hole in your hat was a warning shot. Gentlemen, it appears it’s time for me to leave. Thank you for the game.”

The woman’s voice didn’t even waver. She wasn’t sweating. Not even a hint of nerves. For some inexplicable reason, my cock got hard. She wasn’t just a vixen, she was a red-haired sharpshooter who knew how to play—and win—poker. And now that she was standing, I could see she had the plumpest breasts beneath her prim dress.

“Fuck,” I whispered as she turned toward the door.

Men backed up with impressive haste when she walked by. I’d only seen such wary and cautious behavior from a bunch of men when there’d been a rabid dog walking down Jasper’s main thoroughfare a few years past. Both Spur and I stepped back, allowing her to walk out the door. A hint of fiery red was the last we saw through the window before she continued down the boardwalk, prim as could be.

Men surrounded the idiot who’d confronted her, one handing him a shot of rotgut whiskey, another inspecting the hole she’d blown through his hat.

“Now, we go.” Spur put on his hat, left the saloon and went after our woman, grinning and shaking his head. Yes, he was love-struck.

“‘Bout fucking time,” I muttered. “That’s my wife.” I put my hat back on and followed. My cock knew what it wanted and it wanted her. Hopefully, we wouldn’t get shot before the introductions.

CHAPTER THREE

Dr. Spurgeon Drews

Tags: Vanessa Vale Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs Erotic
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