by Lori G. Matthews
Outlaw Elle Barstow spends her days robbing stagecoaches and her nights bedding women—all while keeping her heart safely locked away.
But everything changes when Isabella “Izzy” Collins enters her life. Banished by her family, the fiery suffragette from Boston is reluctantly traveling west to marry a man much older than herself.
When Elle rescues Izzy during a stagecoach robbery gone wrong, she plans to ransom Izzy for a hefty reward. But Elle soon finds herself drawn to the captivating woman who challenges her every instinct.
As Izzy insists on learning how to survive in the wild, Elle’s plan begins to unravel, and she faces a new peril—the growing attraction that threatens to melt her hardened heart.
Outlaw Hearts is a thrilling lesbian romance set against the breathtaking backdrop of the Wild West, where love proves to be the most dangerous adventure of all.
FROM THE AUTHOR
"The origin of this story is kind of cool, at least I think it was cool. When I was in the GCLS Writing Academy in 2021, one of our assignments was to write a short scene in a different genre. My genre had been modern day romantic comedies, so to me a historical romance was definitely “different.” So I wrote a scene that took place in the wild west of the 1870’s because, who doesn’t like women in cowboy hats riding horses? It starred a hot outlaw and a beautiful, headstrong, young woman from Boston. The scene and characters sat in the back of my mind for quite a while, and then one day I decided to write their story. I hope readers love Elle Barstow and Izzy Collins as much as I do."
—Lori G. Matthews
NetGalley
Sabra M. - This was a wonderful read.
NetGalley
Sandy J. - The author has created a host of varied and lovable characters that bring depth and validity to the story. The writing style is precise and purposeful, creating a world that acknowledges the harsh realities of the wild west while celebrating the simple beauty to be found… A thoroughly enjoyable read.
NetGalley
Danielle K. - This was a fun western lesbian romance.
NetGalley
ER H. - I love historical western romance and this didn’t disappoint.
NetGalley
Patricia B. - This was a really good book. I liked everything about this old west tale. The main characters were well written and very entertaining, The secondary characters were a real joy to read about, these characters actually made this story even better. There was plenty of angst, but not enough to bog the story down to an extreme, Overall this it was a very sweet and enjoyable read with a great ending. I would definitely recommend this book to my friends and family and I look forward to what's next from this author.
NetGalley
Jenna B. - Outlaw Hearts is a captivating read, filled with vivid descriptions, engaging dialogue, dynamic characters, and a constant undercurrent of suspense. I found it difficult to put down, eager to see how everything would unfold.
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Prologue
1862 Mora County, New Mexico Territory
Elle’s fingers rested on the butt of the revolver sitting on her hip.
“Go,” her daddy said.
She whipped out the Colt 1860 Army and shot the tin cup off the rock in front of her.
Her daddy gave a hearty belly laugh. “Damn. You’re gettin’ real quick, little girl.”
She frowned. “I’m not little anymore. I’m ten.”
“You’ll always be little to me.”
Elle gave him a goofy face as she replaced the gun in her holster, and not just any holster—a brand-new one he brought home for her the other day. She ran up and placed the tin cup back on the rock. “I like it here, Daddy. Do you think we can stay for a while?” They’d moved into the tiny cabin in the canyon a few months back. Elle loved the surrounding mountains, the grassy meadow nestled in between the tall peaks, and the creek that shimmered nearby. In the past, they’d never stayed in one place for long, so they’d never had a chance to put roots down. Maybe this will be the place.
“We’ll see,” her daddy said. “Came into some money last week, so maybe we can.”
That was an almost promise and was good enough. Elle took her stance. “I’m ready.”
“All right. Go.”
Again, she whipped out the pistol and again the cup popped off the rock.
“Woo doggy! You’re a damn natural.”
Elle twirled the gun before jamming it back into place.
“Well, now you’re just gettin’ fancy,” her daddy said with a smile. “You keep practicing, you’ll be the fastest draw in New Mexico. You know why you gotta be quick, right?”
Elle nodded. “Gotta be able to protect myself.”
“That’s right. It’s a dangerous world out there, and I got enemies.”
Elle scoffed. “Everybody loves you, Daddy. Momma says you can charm the rattle off a snake.”
“Your momma’s a bit partial. Lord knows she loves me, and that makes me the luckiest man alive. But in my line of work, you can’t help but make enemies. And they may come after you to get to me. So you gotta be able to protect yourself. And your momma, if need be.”
Her daddy ran from the law a lot. Elle had overheard many conversations between her parents during the late-night hours, her momma pleading with him to go straight and him giving her an empty promise to do so, but Elle thought his escapades sounded exciting.
“Husband, what are you doing with our daughter?” Elle’s momma ambled over.
“I’m teaching her to be the quickest draw in the territory.”
“She’s covered in dirt. Have you been rolling around in the mud?” she asked Elle with a twinkle in her eyes.
“No, ma’am. Just riding and shooting.”
“Our girl shoots and rides better than most cowboys I know,” her daddy crowed.
“Is that what daughters are supposed to do?” her momma asked. “Elinor, get down to the creek and wash up. Dinner’s almost ready, and you have your lessons after that.”
“But I gotta practice.”
Her daddy extended his hand. “Give me your gun belt and listen to your momma.”
Elle unbuckled her new prized possession and shuffled off to the creek, which was a few minutes’ walk away. When she arrived at the water’s edge, she took off her clothes and waded in. The shallow creek reached a depth of only two feet and measured about twenty feet across, the perfect size for a swim. She held her breath and sank below the surface, then popped up. The chilly water made her teeth chatter. Will it get warmer in the summer? With a sigh, she extended her arms and floated on her back. The lazy current barely carried her along. She dawdled, as her momma loved to say. The table was probably already set and the food getting cold. But floating in the water is fun.
A shot rang out, and she jumped to her feet. Nobody would shoot a gun unless trouble was afoot. I gotta get back. Her legs churned toward the water’s edge. When she hit dry land, she dressed as fast as she could, which proved challenging while soaking wet. Once her boots were on, she raced toward the house. Loud voices carried on the wind. That’s not Daddy’s voice. More shots echoed around the valley, and a deep fear took root in her chest.
The barn came into view. Approach danger with caution, her daddy always said, so she ducked under the wagon and hid behind the wheel.
The scene terrified her. About ten men, some on horseback, some on foot, had gathered in front of the porch. Bandanas hid their faces. Her daddy, bloodstain on his shirt, kneeled in the dirt under the cottonwood tree next to the house. His hands were tied behind his back, and a large noose encircled his neck. The other end of the rope was looped around the lowest branch of the tree—a branch Elle had climbed yesterday.
Her momma lay belly-down on the ground. She cried while a scruffy man held a fistful of her hair and pointed a gun at her temple. His knee in her back prevented her from getting up.
Elle cowered in the shadows as sweat trickled down her back. If she had her gun maybe she could shoot them all, but ten against one were lousy odds even if she did have a weapon. Frustrated and fearful tears leaked from her eyes. What do I do? What do I do?
Her daddy spit blood from his mouth before asking, “Who are you?”
One of the masked men chuckled. He had the air of someone in charge. “You Robert Barstow?”
Her father nodded.
“Looks like you stole the wrong shipment of guns a few weeks ago.”
“Where’s your proof? You got no proof. And you got no badge. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m your judge and jury, and I don’t need no proof.” He lifted his chin toward the tree, and two men yanked her daddy onto the back of his own horse. “Robert Barstow, I do declare you guilty of theft. And you, sir, are sentenced to hang until death for your crimes.” He locked eyes with the man standing behind her father’s horse and nodded.
A silent scream erupted in Elle’s heart. No!
Her mother’s scream wasn’t silent. It was bloodcurdling, and Elle swore it reached the mountaintops.
The man slapped at the horse’s rump, and the animal shot out from under her father. He dangled from the end of the rope as his legs twitched and his body jerked.
Elle jammed a fist into her mouth to quiet the rising sobs. Her heart pounded and her stomach twisted. She swallowed the bile that rose into her throat, and seethed with rage.
With bored expressions, the men stared like they were watching a sunset instead of seeing the life seep from the man in front of them.
After a few moments, her daddy’s body stilled and his eyes bulged from his no longer handsome face. He was dead.
“What about her?” the man hovering over her mother asked.
“We don’t need no witnesses. Take care of it. Then burn the place down.” The man in charge rode off and the rest followed, except for the one holding her mother.
His bandana slipped down, affording Elle a long look at his face. It was a face she swore to never forget. He flipped her momma over onto her back, and she kicked at him.
Fear paralyzed Elle while her mother, fighting for her life, lay helpless on the ground. I gotta help her. Her legs refused to work until anger and hatred freed her limbs. But before she could stand and run to her mother’s aid, the man pulled the trigger.
In a stupor, Elle collapsed back onto the ground. She retched, and the meager contents of her stomach splattered into the dirt.
The man twisted around and spotted her. He raised his gun and fired. Elle wiped an arm across her mouth and bolted toward the creek. Bullets ripped the bark from the trees surrounding her as she pounded past them. Now in self-preservation mode, she ran and ran and ran until her legs gave out. An outcropping of boulders afforded her some cover, and she hunkered behind them. With eyes squeezed shut, she murmured, “This is a nightmare. I’ll wake up and Momma will be cooking breakfast and Daddy will take me out back to shoot guns.”
A plume of angry smoke billowed into the sky, and her heart sank.
There’d be no waking from this nightmare. No breakfast on the stove, no target shooting with her daddy.
They were gone, and she was alone.
Chapter One
Northern New Mexico Territory, 1878
Elinor Barstow gave Blaze plenty of rein as he picked his way over the uneven, rocky ground. Patches of melting snow made things slippery, so extra caution was in order. This location was a perfect spot, providing plenty of hiding space for four people and their horses.
She turned and gave an impatient wave to her gang lagging behind. After dismounting, she tied her reins loosely to a large piñon pine tree that would offer them shade from the morning sun. If her calculations were correct, the stagecoach should pass by soon. Hopefully, things would go smoother than the Richland job. The man on the back end of the coach had had a derringer hidden up his sleeve. He’d managed to fire at Elle before she shot the gun from his hand. The bullet had only grazed her hip, but still. She’d replayed the scene in her head all week since, vowing to not be caught off guard like that again.
The others arrived and slid from their saddles, and she tucked the memory away.
“How long before the coach comes, boss?” Shorty took his cap off and scratched at his threadbare patch of red hair.
“Less than an hour.”
He nodded and slumped to the ground against a tree with his canteen.
Raven sat cross-legged in another small patch of shade. She removed her John Bull hat and wiped the dust from her face before reaching into her pocket to pull out a black feather. With a satisfied nod, she tucked the feather into the sash on her hat.
Willy took up residence on a boulder, keeping an eye on the trail below.
Elle joined Shorty under the tree. She stretched out on her back and pulled the brim of her low-crowned Stetson over her eyes. Some downtime before a robbery was always welcome. She rubbed at the sore spot on her hip. The bullet had nicked more than her skin and muscle—it’d nicked her pride. How did I not react sooner? Have I slowed down?
“This looks nothing like me,” Raven said.
Thankful for a distraction from her incessant self-criticism of the Richland job, Elle tipped her brim up to take a peek at what Raven waved in the air. It was a copy of the National Police Gazette that they’d gotten while passing through the town of Trinidad yesterday.
Rough individual sketches of four, clearly male faces occupied the top half of the front page. On the bottom half, the four “men” stood in a group drawing, armed with pistols and rifles. The artist had no clue what any of them looked like. One bandit stood a full two heads taller than the rest, and one was so short he appeared to be a child. All had the same-shaped face with varying degrees of facial hair.
“How do you know which one is supposed to be you?” Elle asked.
Raven gave her an incredulous look. “I’m the tall, attractive one.”
“You’re off your nut.” Shorty spit tobacco juice into the ground. “You ain’t the tall one. That’s me. I’m taller than all y’all.” He wiped at his scraggly beard.
“That ain’t you. You’re the ugly one.” And in case he didn’t know which one, Raven tapped the most unattractive bandit in the picture, the one with rotted teeth, bulging eyes, and a fringed waistcoat. The waistcoat was the only thing the poster got right.
He scowled. “That ain’t me.”
“You might wanna get a new coat. And while you’re at it, why don’t you get a new hat? You lost the war, you know. A loooong time ago.”
Shorty adjusted his faded gray slouch hat that had been standard issue for the 1st Georgia Sharpshooter Battalion of the former Confederate States Army infantry. “Quit your yammerin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my hat. It fits good. And I know it pisses you off, so I’m gonna keep wearing it.”
Elle chuckled beneath the shadow of her Stetson. Raven Blackfeather and Shorty Sullivan never got along. Their acrimonious relationship was sometimes tense and, most times amusing, depending on the amount of whisky consumed, and as long as it didn’t jeopardize their plans, she let them bicker to their hearts’ content.
“They think Elle has a beard,” Raven said.
Elle snuck another peek at the magazine. The top sketch showed a man with full whiskers and heavy brows. Above his picture, in bold letters, were the words, The Outlaw L and his Gang. Notorious bandits from Texas.
She did have thick eyebrows, which were visible above her bandana. Other than that, the resemblance was laughable.
“Why do they think we’re from Texas?” Willy asked.
“I don’t know,” Raven replied. “It says we held up a bank in Oklahoma City last month. We weren’t even in Oklahoma last month.”
“I think they make most of that up to sell the magazine,” Elle said. “You know the people back East love to read about outlaws in the West.” She inhaled the scent of pine and sighed. She loved the mountains, with their cool refreshing air and stunning vistas. When spring arrived, the landscape would explode with color, from the blues and whites of columbine and bluebell to the scarlet red of penstemon.
After taking a quick pull from her canteen, she stood and brushed the dust from her trousers. The morning sun inched up into a cloudless sky. The weather was warm for February, and soon the shade from their stand of pine trees would desert them.
Willy shot to his feet and pointed at a rising dust cloud. “Stagecoach comin’.”
Elle grabbed her spyglass and scrambled up on the boulder next to him. “Four horses, two men up top. One’s got a rifle, both have revolvers. And no army escort.” Good. Everything was going according to plan. The large expanse of sparse grasslands in the lower foothills enabled stagecoaches to reach top speed on this stretch of the trail, and the coach below was flying. But up ahead, the trail narrowed, and the terrain grew rockier. Drivers always stopped to navigate the turn into the pass that led through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains toward the town of Albuquerque. This is where the gang would make a stand and relieve them of their finery and coin.
Elle slid to the ground. “Everybody good with the plan?”
They answered with wordless nods and hiked up their bandanas to cover the lower part of their faces.
“Okay. Let’s ride.”
Elle rechecked the chamber of both Colt .45 revolvers that hung low on her hips and tightened the tie-downs. “You ready, Blaze?” Her horse nickered in response, and she stroked the white streak on his nose. He loved the underside of his chin scratched, and Elle obliged every chance she got. He flipped his head and flapped his lips. Leaning close to him, she whispered, “Of course you’re ready. Good boy.” With a grunt, she hauled herself into the saddle. He pranced in a circle and tossed his head in excitement. She patted his neck, already sweaty from the building heat. A subtle press of her heels sent him off, and the others followed.
When they arrived at the break in the trail, Elle wordlessly pointed to everyone’s spot. Shorty would lay on a rocky ledge ten feet above while Elle and Raven stayed on horseback and approached from the sides. Willy would position himself in the middle of the trail with his rifle pointing at the men driving the coach.
Fifteen minutes later, the stagecoach skidded to a stop to navigate the bend in the trail.
The driver of the coach clicked and whistled, slapping the reins onto the horses’ haunches, but they refused to move forward. The lead two snorted and stomped because of the obstacle before them. Willy, his lips set in a grim line, stood in the middle of the trail, rifle at the ready.
A lone jay flew into a nearby willow and scolded from its perch when Elle and Raven, still in the saddle, emerged from the gully next to the trail. In the monsoon wet season, the gully became a raging creek, but this time of year, the snowmelt had barely begun so the water level didn’t even reach the horses’ hooves. With guns drawn, they approached the coach from either side.
One man up top made a fruitless play for his Winchester, and a shot rang out from above. Shorty’s bullet nicked the man’s arm and he tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud.
At the same time, the second man reached for his revolver, and Elle shot the bowler off his head. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
The color drained from his face, and his shaky hands reached for the heavens. Willy pulled him to the ground. “On your knees with your hands up.”
Raven threw open the stagecoach door and in a deep voice, yelled, “If you wanna live, come out with your hands up.”
Four men stumbled out with hands held high. The cut of their suits told Elle they were more businessmen than cowboys. With a smile, she jumped to the ground. It would be a good haul today. She already had her eye on the gold watch dangling from one of their pockets.
By now, Shorty had descended from his perch and joined them. He poked the man he shot with the toe of his boot as the man writhed in agony while clutching at the small red stain growing on his sleeve. The man’s pained moans prompted a chuckle from Shorty. “You ain’t that hurt. Quit bawling.”
“Cut the horses loose,” Elle said.
Shorty pulled a bowie knife from his boot and cut through the traces holding the horses to the coach. With a wave of his hat and a boisterous hoo-haa, he chased the horses down the trail.
Raven circled the coach occupants. “Get on your knees.” When they didn’t move quickly enough, she shoved them down.
One man peered at Elle and stuttered, “We…we don’t want no trouble, sir.”
Raven cackled. “You hear that? These boys don’t want no trouble. Sir.”
They stared wide-eyed at Elle, bodies visibly shaking, and she nodded her approval. She still had it. Richland had been an outlier. With a gruff voice, she said, “Tie ’em up.”
Shorty and Willy grabbed rope from their saddlebags and trussed the men up like calves at a rodeo, hands bound to feet. Shorty finished first and punched his fist in the air. “I beat your ass.”
Willy ducked his head and kicked a toe in the dirt. “I ain’t never been good at calf ropin’.”
Raven dragged the trunks from the coach and dumped the contents on the ground while Shorty frisked the men and removed all their valuables.
After filling their burlap sacks with whatever could fetch a good price, they mounted back up.
Elle grabbed her reins. By the time their victims escaped from their bonds and rounded up the horses, they’d be long gone. After galloping away from the coach, she turned in her saddle. “Sun’ll be setting in a couple of hours, so let’s ride for a bit and then find a place to camp.”
Raven nodded. “We can probably make it to that spot next to Cimarron Creek.”
Elle squeezed her knees into Blaze’s sides. “Let’s go.”
After riding hard for an hour, they pulled into a secluded clearing surrounded by cottonwood trees and buffeted by a small rocky hill. Cimarron Creek gurgled nearby, offering fresh water to refill canteens and quench thirsty horses.
Each had their tasks: Shorty scouted the area for trouble, Raven gathered wood and started a fire, and Willy oversaw dinner, which tonight consisted of some jerky, bread, and cheese.
Elle emptied the sacks of contraband and separated them into four piles. Hers was the largest, and nobody questioned it.
An hour later, they lazed around the small fire with full bellies. The last bit of sun on the horizon cast a hazy orange glow across the landscape before dipping down below the mountains and disappearing. Nighttime insects began to hum, and a screech owl whinnied nearby.
Dinner was never a rowdy affair. Having been together for a few years now, there wasn’t much new to talk about. Raven absently poked a stick into the fire, and Willy whittled away at a piece of wood. He liked to make tiny figures for his daughter to play with.
Elle lay supine on the ground with her legs stretched out, ankles crossed. This was the most peaceful time of her day, and she relished the quiet. Mostly, she’d spend the time lost in her own thoughts, dreaming about a ranch of her own and maybe a different life.
Shorty poked through his take and bit a gold coin to test it. “We did pretty good today.”
Raven agreed. “Damn sight better than that coach in Richland.”
Elle stiffened at the reminder and again rubbed the spot on her hip.
“What’s next, boss?” Raven asked.
Elle shrugged. “Guess we head home. Unless somebody has a better idea.”
“I’m ready to head home,” Willy said. “Miss my little girl.”
“Okay. Home it is.” Elle pulled her Stetson over her eyes and took a deep breath. Time to catch some shut-eye. “Shorty, first watch?”
“Yup.”
* * *
Elle and the gang galloped into the town of Loma Parda, each flush with their share of the haul from the last six weeks of thieving.
To the outsider, Loma Parda, nestled on the banks of the lazy Mora River, was a lawless town filled with miners, thieves, gamblers, and drunks. To Elle, it was home. A perfect hideout, safe from the prying eyes of US Marshals and bounty hunters, neither of whom dared to show their faces in the aptly nicknamed Sodom on the Mora in the New Mexico Territory.
They slowed to a trot to avoid the passing wagons, stagecoaches, and cowboys hurrying along the street. Women, some in skirts and some in pants, walked with sacks of supplies from Wilson’s Dry Goods. A few children ran between the buildings, shrieking with laughter.
“How you gonna spend your money, boss?” Raven asked.
Elle squinted and pulled her bandana over her mouth to keep from choking from the dirt billowing around the street that snaked through the main part of town. “Like I usually do. On a nice bath and a willing woman.”
Raven laughed. “So we’re goin’ to Big Rose’s?”
“Yep.” After weeks on the trail sleeping under the stars, Elle looked forward to losing a few coins for a nice tumble in a soft bed. She wiped at the perspiration rolling down her neck. It was another hot afternoon, but the unusual heat did nothing to quell the unruly activity that permeated the town. Random gunshots rang out, and fistfights spilled from the clapboard buildings that lined the main street.
Raven turned to Shorty. “How about you and I find a poker game? I’m feeling lucky.”
Shorty shook his head. “Last time we played you fleeced me.”
“Ain’t my fault you can’t play cards. What about you, Willy? You game for a game?”
He shook his head. “I ain’t no match for you or anybody else when it comes to cards. Besides, I gotta get home to my wife and baby.”
“You’re a good man, Willy,” Elle said. “Tell Perlie we said hello.”
They dismounted in front of the McIntosh Livery Stable and Boardinghouse.
Elle handed the reins to the stable boy who greeted them. “Thanks, Tom.” She gave an affectionate pat on Blaze’s rump. “Wet him down and give him a good brushing.” She flipped a half-bit in Tom’s direction and headed uptown to Big Rose’s with Raven hot on her heels.
When they hopped onto the porch at the saloon, they had to quickly step aside while Tiny Tim, one of Rose’s sons, tossed a drunken soldier out the door and onto the street. He must’ve done something to draw Rose’s ire. The soldier wobbled to his feet and clenched his fists.
Tim crossed his arms. “You best leave now if you wanna make it back to Fort Union in one piece.”
The soldier tottered a bit before turning on his heel.
After brushing his hands together, Tim tipped his hat. “Afternoon, ladies.”
“Howdy, Tim. See you got your hands full as usual,” Elle said. Poor Tim. Always tasked with keeping order and tossing patrons. That’s what happened when you were well over six feet tall and strong as an ox.
“First one today, so that’s a plus.” He smiled broadly. It wasn’t a toothy grin—he was missing quite a few teeth, either from decay or fisticuffs—but it was a friendly one, and the warmth always reached his eyes.
“What’d he do?” Raven asked.
“Drew his gun.”
Elle chuckled. He’d broken the only rule at the popular saloon. “Rose around today?”
“She’s in the kitchen. One of the ladies is sick so she’s filling in. I’ll tell her you’re here.” He hitched up his trousers and headed back inside.
Elle and Raven pushed their way through the rowdy crowd. It didn’t matter that the sun hung high in the sky, Big Rose’s was the place to be. Men arguing over cards occupied every table. A few managed to play their poker hand with a pretty gal on their knee. Most were familiar faces, and they shouted out greetings.
“Elle! Good to have you back,” Clyde Harrell bellowed. His rosy cheeks meant he’d been drinking most of the day.
“Good to be back, Clyde. How’s the wife?”
“Still putting up with me.”
“She’s a saint. You’re lucky to have her.”
Arthur, another of Rose’s burly sons, pounded on the ivory keys of the piano and sang an off-key, up-tempo rendition of “Home on the Range.” Men twirled their ladies around the dance floor, kicking up swirls of dust that floated around their ankles. Most of the “ladies” were Rose’s girls. Some of the less agile folk surrounded the dancers, clapping and singing along with Arthur.
Rob Roy, son number three and the most handsome of the bunch, greeted Elle and Raven when they sidled up to the wide wooden plank bar. “You’re back. And in one piece I see.” All his teeth were intact, as patron-tossing was not his job. He immediately poured two shots of whisky.
Elle removed her hat and threw hers down with one gulp before pushing the glass back for a refill. “Back in one piece and ready to celebrate.”
Rob dipped his head, and a lock of blond hair fell across his eyes. He gave Raven a swoon-worthy look. “Howdy, Raven.”
“Hey. Any good card games happening?”
“Fred’s got some faro going on. I’m sure he’ll let you in.”
She turned to Elle. “Have fun. I’m gonna lighten a few purses.” She wiggled her eyebrows and grabbed her glass.
As she walked away, Rob’s eyes followed her across the room. When Elle cleared her throat, his eyes darted downward and his cheeks reddened. She smirked. “Someday, Rob.”
He took a rag and wiped at an imaginary spot on the bar top in front of him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t. How about I chase that whisky with a beer?”
“Where’s my Ellie girl?”
Elle smiled broadly before turning around. She allowed only one person to call her Ellie.
There in all her glory stood Big Rose, the most powerful woman—hell, the most powerful person—in Loma Parda, with her flaming red hair piled high atop her head and her hefty frame dressed in an unusually understated gray frock. Subdued for Rose, who liked to prance around her saloon in colorful dresses, the kind that would make a Parisian debutante jealous. But despite whatever finery she chose, her Colt .45s were always strapped to her hips.
Rose extended her arms. “Give me a hug.”
Elle soon found herself wrapped up in Rose’s plump arms, pressed tight to her ample bosom. “You’re gonna suffocate me.”
“Nonsense. I raised you to be tougher than that.” She held Elle at arm’s length. “Where’s my other daughter?”
Elle gestured across the room. “She just sat down across from Fred.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “He’s gotta pay his bill. I hope she doesn’t take too much from him.”
“Want me to get her?”
“No, no. It’s fine.” She brushed some dust from Elle’s shoulders. “You were due back days ago. I was worried to death.”
“We got waylaid in Richland. Job went off the rails a bit, and we had to lay low for a day or two. You don’t usually show so much concern. Are you okay?”
Rose tucked Elle’s hair behind her ear. “It was a bad few weeks here. We lost twenty-five souls.”
Elle whistled. Twenty-five? That was steep even for Loma Parda. “How many were you responsible for?”
“Only six. Some fellows had a shootout in here over one of my gals, and I had to maintain some order. Closed me down for two hours ’cause we had to clean up the mess.”
“What happened to the other nineteen?”
“Oh, those damn McFadden boys rode in and took on the Tustins. Joe McFadden holed up in the hotel and decided to make his last stand. It was a hellacious afternoon. But you’re back, and that makes me happy. You got a little something for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elle discreetly slid a leather pouch full of bills and gold pieces into Rose’s hand.
Rose hefted the bag and her eyes lit up. “You take good care of me. Which is more than I can say for my own flesh and blood.” Her eyes landed on Rob Roy, and he laughed.
“Things will be different next year,” Elle said. “Railroad will be coming through Santa Fe. Stagecoaches will be scarce.”
Rose waved a hand. “Railroads mean bigger towns. Bigger towns mean banks. Banks mean bigger money.”
Elle was not keen on robbing a bank, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Robbing a stage was simple—it was just you and the coach. But a bank in the middle of town had lots of witnesses and lawmen milling around. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Beef and potatoes. You wanna plate now?”
“I was hoping for a bath and some relaxation first.”
“Say no more,” she said, nodding, then shouted across the room, “Miriam, you’re needed over here!”
Elle laughed at Rose’s boisterousness. Miriam was Elle’s favorite.
Miriam hustled across the room and threw herself into Elle’s arms. “You’re back!”
Rose nodded toward the stairs. “Go on up. Miriam, get one of the boys to take water up for a bath.”
Miriam placed a hand on her chest. “Harry paid for a few dances already.”
Rose shooed her away. “I’ll take care of Harry.”
* * *
When the tub was filled and the door to the room was shut, Miriam undressed Elle. After some quick scrubbing and soaping up, they tumbled into bed and enjoyed each other’s bodies for the next hour before devouring the smoked beef and potatoes that Rose sent up. Good sex always made Elle ravenous.
Now sated, they lulled in the newly refilled bath water with half-open eyes, sleepy from the sex and the rising steam.
“New curtains?” Elle asked.
“Mm-hmm. Rose wanted to add some color to the rooms.”
“They certainly are colorful.” The white curtains strung across the double windows had a bold green-and-orange floral pattern. A bit loud for Elle’s taste, but they did brighten the place.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, thankful to be home, which was becoming the norm this past year. Usually, she itched to get out on the trail and cause some mayhem, but lately something had changed. For the past eight years, she’d laughed at danger. Now she was more fearful. And tired. Tired of looking over her shoulder. Tired of being watchful every minute of the day when she was away from Loma Parda. It was a worrying development. And the close call in Richland had shaken her.
“You’re frowning. What are you thinking about?”
Miriam’s quiet voice startled her back to the present, and Elle snapped her eyes open. Stop. You’re fine. “Nothing.”
Miriam chuckled. “Liar. I see that new wound on your hip.”
Elle smiled. “How are you?”
“Almost have enough money saved to get the hell out of here. Maybe move to California and leave this life behind. Turn myself into a respectable woman, find a husband.”
None of Rose’s girls ever made it out, but maybe Miriam would be the exception. “I hope that happens for you.”
“What about you? Aren’t you tired of this life?”
Elle refused to share her earlier misgivings, so she played it cool and harrumphed. “‘Once an outlaw, always an outlaw,’ as Rose likes to say.”
“She says that so you’ll never leave her, ’cause you’re the only person she trusts. She needs to keep you around.”
“She took me in when I was ten and raised me. The least I could do is stick around.”
“Don’t you think you’ve repaid that debt by now?”
“Can you ever repay a debt like that?” Elle asked. This wasn’t the first time Miriam made comments about Rose, and it made Elle uncomfortable.
Disapproval flashed across Miriam’s face. “I think she takes too much from you. Expects too much from you.”
Not up for an argument, Elle focused on Miriam’s generous breasts as they bobbed on the water. Her large nipples played peekaboo with the surface, and right now they begged for more attention. “How about we talk about something else?”
She kissed Miriam, slipping her hand between the young woman’s legs. “Or maybe we don’t need to talk at all.”
Miriam groaned and her hips bucked into Elle’s hand.
The discussion ended, and to Elle, it was a fitting conclusion to six weeks on the trail.
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