Page 6 of Mail-Order Viscountess

Though looking at Jake’s fists—each roughly the size of a loaf of bread—maybe this ranked higher on the list of stupid decisions than he’d initially thought.

“Then what do you want?” He kept his tone conversational. Just discussing the weather.

Jake released the girl with a shove that sent her stumbling against the table.

She caught herself but didn’t run. Just stood there frozen, like a deer that had spotted the wolf but couldn’t remember how to move.

“I want you to mind your own business.” Jake stepped closer, crowding into Thomas’s space. “And get out of my saloon.”

Was it this man’s saloon? Or did he simply spew big talk?

Still, retreating now would be like showing your back to a mean dog—it only made them bite harder.

Some distant part of his mind whispered that this may be exactly the kind of recklessness James had been talking about—walking into a situation that could get him killed over a girl he didn’t know.

But he’d already opened his mouth. Already charged the bear. No backing down now.

“Actually…” He let his smile sharpen just enough to show teeth. “I think this is exactly my business now. Seeing as I’ve already paid for the lady’s time.”

The first punch came faster than Thomas expected—a wild haymaker aimed at his jaw. He ducked sideways as the wind of it passed over his head. His shoulder crashed into the table edge, scattering cards and coins across the floor.

The girl screamed.

Thomas straightened in time to catch Jake’s second swing on his forearm, the impact jarring all the way to his shoulder. Pain bloomed hot and immediate, but he shoved it aside and drove his fist into Jake’s gut.

Like punching a barrel. The man barely grunted.

Then Jake’s companions were moving. One grabbed Thomas’s left arm, yanking it behind his back. The other came at him from the front with a fist raised.

Thomas drove his boot down on the instep of the man holding him. Bones crunched, and the grip loosened enough for him to wrench free. He spun, using the momentum to throw an elbow that connected with someone’s face. Cartilage gave way with a wet crunch.

Someone howled.

The room tilted as something slammed into the side of his head—Jake’s fist, probably, though everything had gone a bit fuzzy around the edges.

Then the distant crack of a rifle echoed through the air.

CHAPTER 2

The stagecoach wheel dropped into another rut, and Kate’s shoulder slammed against the side panel hard enough to add another bruise to her collection.

Three months of steamships and ice floes and bone-rattling wagon rides across the frozen prairie, and now this final torture device disguised as a stage. The leather seat had long since stopped providing any cushioning—or perhaps her body had simply run out of places that didn’t already ache.

She shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t press on the worst of the bruises. Nothing helped though. At least the end was in sight.

Butte sprawled ahead through the grimy window, buildings rising from the mountainside like tombstones in a particularly crowded cemetery.

It wasn’t South Carolina. It wasn’t even close.

But it was here, and that meant the end of this nightmare journey.

“Oh, Kate, look!” Clara leaned across her, pointing at something through the window. Strands of her honey-blonde hair had come loose from their pins hours ago, and dust streaked her traveling dress—the blue one Kate had spent two weeks sewing, with the tiny pearl buttons Clara had fawned over. “Is that a theater?”

Kate followed her sister’s finger to a false-fronted building with peeling paint and a crooked sign. “I think that’s a saloon.”

“Oh.” Clara settled back against the seat, though the disappointment lasted only a moment before her smile returned.

Kate glanced at the bench across from them, where Mrs. Hartwell—Audrey, as she’d insisted they call her—slept on her husband’s shoulder. Somehow, the woman had managed to remain immaculate despite the journey. Her traveling suit showed barely a wrinkle, and her dark hair stayed perfectly arranged beneath her hat. Almost like she had a lady’s maid hidden in her reticule.