Wildfire in His Arms Read Free

’Sides, no one’s looking for me in these parts.”
    â€œThen why’d you want me to wake you at dawn before the deputies make their early rounds? By the way, that was thirty minutes ago. That’s how long I’ve been trying to wake—”
    â€œDamnit, why didn’t you say so! I hate being in town in daylight.”
    â€œBut if no one’s looking—”
    â€œNot actively looking, but the wanted posters have made their way this far north. I snatch them down when I find them, but the sheriff here keeps putting more back up. He must’ve been sent a pile of them.”
    Max slipped out from beneath the covers fully dressed except for coat and hat, which were grabbed now. The gun holster hadn’t been removed either. Luella didn’t like sleeping next to a long-barreled Colt even though she was used to guns and kept a small derringer tucked away in her small bureau for emergencies. But she minded something else even more.
    â€œYou could at least remove your damn boots before you go to sleep,” she said, staring at the scuffed boots that had just left her bed.
    â€œCan’t, case I have to leave fast—like this.” Max opened the window, climbing onto the porch roof that fronted the bordello, then dropping to the ground.
    Luella watched from her window. Standing there in her chemise, she heard a whistle from across the street. She didn’t try to cover herself. After all, part of her job was to attract customers to Chicago Joe’s bordello. Helena had far too many whorehouses, and the competition was fierce.
    Too many bordellos, too many millionaires, too many miners, heck, just too many people. But then Helena was the most populated town in Montana Territory, had been since gold was discovered in the nearby gulch back in ’64. Eighteen years later folks were still moving to Helena when most towns that had sprouted up because of gold had turned into ghost towns. Even Virginia City, a ways south, was dying, and it had boasted a population of three thousand during its heyday. But Helena, with hundreds of businesses, didn’t rely solely on gold for its prosperity. It was also the capital of the territory, and the railroad was heading this way, too. In another year or two it would probably reach Helena, and that would ensure that the town didn’t bottom out when the gold did.
    Luella thought Helena would be a nice place to settle down if she could find a man who would have her. She’d only received marriage proposals from miners so far, and miners didn’t have their own homes or make much money, so they didn’t have the means to start families here. Usually if a man had means, he wasn’t interested in taking a whore for a wife when he could bed one for a few coins.
    Luella looked over at Big Al, the man who had whistled at her. He was out early, sweeping the porch of his saloon across the street. He was one of her regulars and had always treated her with a gentle hand. She’d actually been considering him as a potential husband until the night Max had rescued her and she had fallen instantly in love. So dumb for someone like her to succumb to that emotion.
    But with Big Al’s being a landowner and a businessman, and single, he was still an option. His saloon was one of many in town that never closed its doors. Luella’s place of business never closed either. Josephine Airey, or Chicago Joe as most people called her, owned the bordello and many others like it. Quite the landowner, their madam was, and she believed a man who wasn’t put on a time schedule—at least when satisfying his amorous needs—was a happy man.
    Big Al was giving Luella a cheeky grin now—and not watching where he was sweeping. Dust flew toward one of his customers who was leaning against the porch post, drink in hand. The man, a fancy dresser, was probably a businessman, she thought, until she saw the gun on his hip and quickly took