Thank you for your kind support, always.
Standard disclaimer.
As Sam sat at the poker table, trying to come up with an amicable solution, to his current problem with Mercedes Jones, he surveyed the room and realized, business was indeed waning.
It will get worse, when word began to spread.
Will was still there and the two were joined by Luke the locksmith.
"Luke, can you come to a meeting in the morning? I'm rounding up a few guys, to see what we could come up with, to save our Lily," Will said. Luke smiled.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world. You know, after I'd put the new lock on the lady's door…" Will stared incredulously at Sam. Cutting off Luke, he asked,
"There's a new lock on the lady's door? What's the matter Sam, losing your charm?" Sam bristled.
"I ain't…am not losing my charm."
Damn woman's got me correcting myself.
"You've seen her Will. She's so plain, she'd make a freight train take a dirt road to avoid her. No ladies' man would want to get into her room."
"Especially if she's got a new lock on the door," Will said and winked at Sam.
"I could have her if I wanted her," Sam started. "I just ain't…am not that desperate," he boasted, correcting himself again.
"That's right, after all, there's all them pretties that work here," Luke threw in. "If you live in a candy store, why would you eat plain cornbread?" he finished, and all the men guffawed.
"Remember she's put a lock on the candy counter, too. She's gonna marry the girls off," Sam said. "Any man who wants goodies around here, has to marry to get it," he finished.
A long moment of silence followed after, as each man contemplated, whether they needed loving that badly.
"Sam, I think you're going to have to offer her much more money, to get her to leave town," Will suggested. "I'll contribute," he finished.
"So will I," Luke said and then,
"Me too," was heard from a local rancher. After that, all the men started reaching in their pockets, but Sam waved them away.
"The lady has her mind set and we've got to be smart. All of you are welcomed to join the meeting tomorrow and we'll discuss it."
"How are we gonna get away from our wives, for the meeting," one asked.
"The same way I sneak off to come here," shouted another, pushing his spectacles back up on his thin nose.
"It'll be a town beautification meeting we're holding. Women are always in favor of improving the town," the same guy replied, grinning.
"You're not lying. It'll be much improved, if Miss Jones leaves. Now let's call it a night fellas. I'm tired," Sam said.
They closed early.
Even Quinn hadn't been able to drum up enough interest, when the men realized that they'd have to run the gauntlet passed Miss Jones' iron skillet, to go to Quinn's room.
As the stragglers paused for one last drink, Quinn leaned on the bar, smoking a thin cigarette with the biggest pout on her face.
Sam wandered into the kitchen, where Carmen was laying out some items for breakfast, the next morning.
"Mr. Sam, how are you?"
"Do you even need to ask?" He leaned on the kitchen counter, with a sour look on his face.
She grinned, poured him a glass of milk and handed him a freshly baked oatmeal cookie.
"She's getting to you, isn't she?" He shook his head.
"I'm not sure what to do about her. She's turning things upside down…she's so stubborn…and determined."
"She's a lot like Sue, even though they're not directly related."
"Yeah. And she's beginning to sound like her…sometimes. You think Sue did this to me as a joke?"
He took another cookie.
They were crisp and still warm from the oven.
The milk tasted cold and rich, so he dunked the cookie in it and savored it. Carmen shook her head from side to side.
"No, sir. I can guarantee Miss Sue thought the world of you, Mr. Sam. Another thing, she wouldn't have wanted her family to find out about her. I'm sure she thought Miss Mercedes would take the money and never come to Texas."
"Carmen, you knew Sue better than anybody. Do you think she hid money somewhere in this building?" The woman shook her head.
"She never said nothin' to me. She had her secrets…but I only knew some of them."
Sam waited, but the old woman said no more, busying herself around the kitchen. He finished his cookies and milk and started out of the kitchen.
"Mr. Sam," Carmen said behind him. "One thing. Take it easy." Sam gave a hint of a smile and nodded vaguely.
"I'll try to."
Sam exited the kitchen and looked around.
The saloon was now deserted.
The bartender was locking up, but Quinn still sat at a poker table, nursing a drink.
"Hey, boss," the bartender started. "We didn't do so good tonight."
"I'm not blind. Maybe tomorrow night will be better."
"I sure hope so," the bartender said and followed the two dealers out.
Sam paused at the foot of the stairs. It had finally gone quiet upstairs.
"It looks as though we're the last two up," Quinn said, getting up from the poker table. She sidled over to him and rested her hand on his arm.
"Sam, honey, what are we gonna do about that bitch?" Somehow, inside, he winced at the epithet.
"She's a respectable woman Quinn. I'm just poor white trash myself. I don't know how to deal with a lady."
"But you know how to handle a woman."
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
For a moment, his hunger took over and he returned the kiss, enveloped in her cheap perfume.
"We could go to your room," she whispered and kissed him again.
His pulse seemed to be roaring in his ears and just like that, he needed a woman, bad. Roughly he pulled her to him.
"Well!"
Said a cold voice and they broke apart and looked up.
Mercedes Jones stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.
Like the snap of a twig, the moment disappeared.
Sam looked up the stairs, wiping Quinn's lipstick off his mouth. He remembered that Mercedes didn't really wear lip stick and her perfume was light and fruity, sometimes with a hint of lavender.
"I was just headed to bed," he mumbled.
"Whose?" Mercedes asked pointedly.
"None of your damn business," Quinn snapped. And then, "I'm going to bed."
She marched up the stairs and passed Mercedes, with a sneer on her face.
Sam kept looking at the curvy woman on the stairs. She had taken her hair from the tight bun again. Now it fell in soft dark curls about her shoulders. She looked innocent, vulnerable with a hunt of fragility, like a willow branch.
"What are you doing up, Miss Jones?" he asked.
"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd come down for some warm milk."
She came down the stairs and brushed passed him, headed for the kitchen.
Without thinking, he reached out and caught her arm. It was soft and warm.
He felt a tingle run through him.
She turned towards him and looked up and he realized her eyes were the prettiest, softest brown. And her lashes were long.
"Sir, unhand me."
He just kept staring down into her face.
Her skin shone clean and delicate, and for some reason, the smattering of freckles across her nose, enticed him. 'Why did I ever think she was plain?'
Her full lips turned into a grim, thin line and she yanked her hand out of his grasp.
"I'm not one of the girls," she reminded him and turned, nose in the air, heading for the kitchen.
Short, curvy, nevertheless, she moved with grace.
He had a sudden vision of short, thick, pretty legs, under her robe and he felt his virile body break out into sweat.
He watched her go, both surprised and unnerved.
He must need a woman worse than he thought, to feel a sudden rise of interest in the prim, Miss Jones. Yet, his mind lingered over what she must look like under that robe.
'Damn, Sam old boy. You're more desperate than you thought.'
He moved off to his downstairs room and got ready for bed.
After turning off his lights, Sam laid down in his bed, his thoughts all over the place. He could hear Mercedes going up the stairs.
He instantly recalled her scent and the softness of her arm and they way she looked up at him.
She was so short.
And looked so innocent.
Maybe that was the challenge.
He was used to experienced, easy women, who really knew how to give a cowboy a good ride.
Now that he looked back at all of his bed romps, he can't ever remember having a virgin, a woman that no man had touched.
"Sam Evans, are you loco?" he whispered to himself. "That frigid woman is not your type…or anyone's type. Her skin might be warm, but she's as cold as ice."
Yet, there had been a fleeting expression in those brown eyes, that his green ones noted, as if there was something vulnerable hidden there.
It occurred to him then, he could win against her.
He couldn't buy her. He couldn't bully her.
"Sam, the answer is as clear, as the nose on your face," he muttered. "What's your best talent? Loving women. They fall like timber after a few minutes in your arms…and it doesn't seem like that one has ever been in a man's arms. You have to seduce her. Make her fall in love with you and then she'll do anything you want."
He grinned to himself in the darkness of his room.
Was it a rotten, villainous plan? Of course, it was, but his living depended on claiming her half of the Lily.
He had come from a starving, hard-scrabble existence...him, his sister and his brother, in the roughest part of Tennessee. Miss Jones and her proper background couldn't possibly know, how hard life had been for him and he wasn't going to stand by and let her wreck it all.
Satisfied with his plan, he finally dropped off to sleep.
Mercedes had peeked around the kitchen door, to make sure Sam was no longer in the main room. Then, she went up the stairs and into her room.
She made sure her door was locked and bolted and got into bed.
But she couldn't sleep.
She lay staring at the dark ceiling and wondering if Quinn was in his bed.
She shook her head to discard the images that came to her mind, of his muscular body naked and his strong arms wrapped around the blonde, as he brought her to ecstasy.
She sighed and moved restlessly.
She had seen the way his muscular arms had pulled the girl to him and the way their mouths had meshed together.
She had never really been kissed…at least not like that…much less held in a passionate embrace.
That virile, stallion of a man, surely knew how to thrill a woman with his touch and conquer her, until she was writhing under him, moaning in surrender, she thought.
She broke out into a light sweat, as she pictured it and threw the sheet off.
It seemed very hot for early June, all of a sudden.
Gradually, she dropped off to sleep.
In her dreams, Sam Evans pulled her to him and kissed her…not like a fine gentleman did in those romance novels she read.
But roughly and powerfully…subduing her mouth, until her lips opened, and she clung to him, wanting everything he had to give.
'I want you,' he murmured against her ear. 'I need you.' Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed.
'And I will have you tonight, my sweet…'
She sat up in bed, abruptly coming awake and panting.
She was still covered with a sheen of perspiration. She went furious with herself, for the silly fantasy she'd had. Sam Evans? Was she going insane?
I hope these chapters are flowing well. I'm still very busy, but this story is almost completed. There are still a few chapters left to type, but all of the others up to twenty-one are finished. They just need to be edited. Until the next chapter, much love to you.