Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Freshly bathed in a clean set of clothes, Timothy felt a bit sheepish as he stepped into The Hackney Saloon and Brothel. Thomas Williamson was still the owner of this business and after what had happened yesterday, part of Timothy felt as if he were betraying Samantha and Zachary by being here. His loyalty was being tested, and while there were other saloons he could go into to play cards and drink, those saloons didn't have what he was really hoping to see tonight.

After ordering a beer and making his way to a back table, Timothy scanned the saloon for who he hoped to see. It was Tuesday night so there wasn't much of a crowd in the dusty saloon. Most men were home with their families or out on the ranches they worked at getting ready to work again at dawn.

Timothy didn't have a family of his own. He didn't have a home. And he had known that Zachary wanted time alone with Samantha at the farm so he'd ridden back into town with the men from the lumber yard to give his best friend that privacy. Timothy was happy for Zach and Sam. They deserved the happiness they gave each other.

With a twist in his gut of an emotion had could not identify, Timothy realized she wasn't in the saloon. That meant the woman he had been hoping to spend time with was already upstairs spending time with someone else. He supposed he would just have to wait until she was done and made her way back downstairs.

"Hey there, Timothy," a feminine voice pulled Timothy from his thoughts and he turned to see a brown-haired beauty named Rosalynne approaching him, in a red corset and white petticoat. She laid her hand on his shoulder before running her fingernails down his arm. "How are you tonight?" she purred.

Timothy swallowed hard and shifted in his chair. After taking a big swig of beer, he offered a smile. "I'm doing good. How are you?"

"I'd be doing better with some nice strong company," Rosalynne admitted, stooping low and placing her rather impressive cleavage directly in his peripheral.

Timothy made a conscience effort to remain focused on the beer in his mug. "There's not too many to pick from in here tonight but I'm sure you can find a strong one."

Her breathless giggle blew against his ear causing his pants to tighten in a purely male response. Those fingertips tapped on his knuckles as he gripped his beer tight enough to cause worry over the integrity of the glass. "I think I've already found a strong one. Why don't we take this upstairs?"

Timothy nearly said yes. He had never bothered denying himself fun before in his life. But he was trying to grow the hell up. He was trying to figure out what he wanted from life. He wasn't entirely certain yet what that was but he did know that he was nearly twenty-five years old and couldn't spent his entire life chasing after meaningless fun with paid women—even if they were entirely desirable and far too eager for their own good.

"I don't think so, ma'am. I'm just gonna sit here awhile."

She pouted out her red-painted, full bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

He tipped his head and took another drink. "I'm sure."

"But we could...."

"The man said no, Rosalynne," Caroline said with a light laugh as she approached the table. "Go look somewhere else."

Rosalynne stood straight and crossed her arms under her breasts, simply emphasizing exactly what Timothy had turned down. "Can't blame a woman for trying. Have you seen my other options in here tonight?"

Timothy glanced around and felt sympathy grow. Most of the men were either old, extremely hairy, or on the uglier side of ugly. Caroline waved her hand. "We don't get paid to look at the scenery. Go on now."