WildOutlaws by Destiny Blaine Page B

appeal to women looking for marriage. Teach us to be content with what we have at home. Show us how to be the kind of husbands who will never stray.”
    “That’s easier said than done.”
    “Yes,” David agreed, rising and going to her. “But think of how much fun we’ll all have.”
    “Best of all, you can teach,” Tuff reminded her. “Your friend said that’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”
    David said, “From what I gather, teachers who like what they do and know what they’re talking about are often the best instructors of all.”
    “That’s true, but—”
    “You’re already packed and ready to go,” Tuff pointed out.
    “Yes, but—”
    “There’s nothing to discuss except wages. How much will you charge?”
    Mary Margaret felt like her back was against a corner. “I’ll have to think about it.”
    “You’ll have room and board,” Tuff volunteered.
    “Yes, but I’m not sure about this arrangement,” she readily admitted. Good Lord, she’d have to be crazy for considering this in the first place.
    “We’ll answer your questions on the way to Tombstone,” David told her.
    “Yes, well, about that,” she began. “I’m willing to consider your offer but first, I want a trial period.”
    “How long?” Creed asked, arching a brow.
    “I don’t know. I may be a whore but my Ma never raised an idiot. I’d be a blasted fool to ride out into that prairie with five men I don’t know. We’ll stay right here in Cripple Creek and start your lessons tomorrow. You wouldn’t expect a woman you marry to take off on a long trip with you before you’ve even had relations. Don’t expect the same from me.”
    “If it’s the relations you’re worried about,” Buck said. “We’re willing to get that part out of the way.”
    “I’m sure you are,” Mary Margaret said, smiling sweetly. “But that too will have to wait. We’re taking things slow. Remember, I’m teaching you to behave like gentlemen and by the time I’m through with you, every woman in the West will line up for miles to meet the most eligible bachelors in Colorado.”
    “Arizona,” Tuff grumbled.
    “There, too.”
    * * * *
     “Mary Margaret, you’ve become a proper whore,” Annabelle drawled later that evening when she entered her sleeping chambers. “I tried every way in the world to get one of those men to take me upstairs and pay for my time. Nary a one was interested.”
    “We’re working under an arrangement,” Mary Margaret told her, redressing her bed with soft cotton sheets.
    “You didn’t have to tell me. Why do you think I said you’re a proper whore?” Annabelle turned up her whiskey glass.
    Mary Margaret stared at the bottle dangling from her fingertips. “Annabelle, you’ve had enough to drink, honey. Let me walk you to your room and tuck you into bed.”
    “My room is next door.” She took a swig from the bottle. “Are you making a pass at me?”
    Taken aback, Mary Margaret’s palm flew to her chest. “Absolutely not! Why would you say something like that?”
    “I guess I’d be honored if the greatest whore to ever work in Cripple Creek’s finest establishment had a thing for me!” she slurred, teetering around the room and grabbing hold of whatever piece of furniture she could use to steady herself.
    Mary Margaret had dealt with one round of jealousy after another ever since she started working in the business. She hated to see Annabelle slip into the clutches of envy. Besides, the young woman had nothing to worry about. She was younger, prettier, and had a better shape at twenty-something than Mary Margaret did as she climbed the hill toward forty. If Annabelle had one flaw—and she certainly did—it was her attachment to the bottle.
    “I do have a thing for you,” Mary Margaret finally confessed, brushing Annabelle’s hair away from her face. “You’ve been like a kid sister to me since you moved in here. I look out for you, Annabelle and you know it. I love ya, kid and