A Headstrong Woman(70)

“We have business to see to and in case you’ve forgotten I’m the boss,” she said haughtily.

“Are you going to fire me, Alexandria?” Jonathon demanded though his voice had softened. He watched confusion and pain cross Alexandria’s face before she stepped around him and resumed walking. Jonathon followed her; he regretted speaking so harshly.

She nodded at Rusty as she approached him and stopped and scanned the saloon where they were to meet Mr. Kingston.

“Alexandria, you can’t….”

Alexandria marched through the doors.

“go in there,” he finished to the closed doors.



Alexandria stopped and surveyed the murky room in front of her. The room smelled of stale cigars and whisky and smoke curled from numerous ashtrays throughout the room. A long polished bar stretched before her and men sat scattered at tables around the room that was dominated on one end by a stage. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she noticed several women, dressed only in their under things, lingering around the room. Alexandria felt the blood drain from her face.

“You come looking for work darlin’?” one of the men asked. “I’m sure that Nolls could use another girl.”

Alexandria became aware that every eye in the room was now on her and stepped backward to bump into a solid wall behind her. She gasped and jumped forward for an iron band to grasp her arm. Her startled eyes met Jonathon’s angry ones and she nearly collapsed from relief.

Jonathon had been ready to tear into her until he saw the fear in her eyes and the tears that were starting to spill over. “Come on,” he said as he approached the bar and inquired of the man they were to meet. They were directed to a private room behind a curtain where a high stakes game was in progress.

“Mr. Kingston?” he inquired of the men at the table. The men at the table glanced up and the women watched Jonathon with interest. Alexandria’s eyes widened when she recognized one of the men as Tristan Price. He was supposed to arrange the meeting, she reminded herself and it wasn’t exactly as if he didn’t have a reputation.

“Yes?” a thick chested gentleman responded. Even sitting down one was aware that the man was tall. He was broad through the shoulders, wide through the chest, and thick in the waist. His hair was dark brown; his eyes cold gray.

“Jonathon Stewart, I’m here to look at your cattle,” Jonathon reminded the man of their meeting.

“Yes, I recall that,” he nodded as he lowered his cigar from his mouth. “Care to join us?”

“No, sir, I don’t gamble.”

“Care for a more inviting form of entertainment?” Mr. Kingston nudged the girl at his elbow in Jonathon’s direction. His gaze when it settled on Alexandria was unnerving, as though he were undressing her with his eyes. Alexandria shrank back from him.

The woman Mr. Kingston had offered to Jonathon moved closer. The look she shot Alexandria was hostile. Jonathon’s gaze barely flickered over the girl before it settled pointedly on Mr. Kingston.

“Suit yourself,” the man shrugged. “Let me play this hand. My luck has been good today,” he turned back to his cards.

“Why don’t you stay with us while they talk business?” one of the men invited Alexandria as he claimed her by the wrist. Jonathon stepped forward, but before he could react, Tristan stood and intervened.

“Games over, gentlemen; Cain, let her go. She’s not that type of woman,” Tristan tossed his cards onto the table and took a long dress coat from a hook by the door. It was too warm for a coat but Alexandria took it gratefully when he offered it to her.

Mr. Kingston lifted his hulking frame from his seat and grabbed his bowler, a ridiculous hat on him, and plopped it onto his head. Alexandria stuck close to Jonathon as she followed the men back out into the afternoon sunlight.

“I brought the cattle to the corrals at the edge of town, it’s a short walk, if you don’t mind walking,” he said to them and started down the sidewalk without waiting for their reply.

“Mrs. Morris, my buggy is waiting, I’d be happy to give you a ride to the corrals and spare you walking through these unsafe streets,” Tristan put her on the spot. Before she could recover, Tristan had escorted her to the buggy and into the seat.

Jonathon glared at the buggy as it started down the street. A low whistle sounded from beside him and he turned to Rusty with a frown.

“If looks could kill, Tristan would be a dead man,” Rusty said with an amused smile. Jonathon arched one brow; then started down the sidewalk at an angry pace.