Outlaw Valley Wolf (Silver Fox Ranch Book 2) Read online

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  Outlaw Valley Wolf: Silver Fox Ranch Book 2

  By: Haley Weir

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  Prologue

  New York

  1871

  Glass shattered against the wall, and Charlotte threw herself into the door to the dining room to avoid being hit with another object. The door broke open, sending shards of wood skittering across the floor. Her shoulder ached, and the bruise on her cheek purpled more with every passing second. Charlotte scrambled on her hands and knees to get herself out of the wreckage as thundering footsteps approached. She climbed to her feet and dashed up the stairs towards her bedchamber. The door slammed shut just in time to keep him from following.

  She tried to hold the door shut as the lock broke. He pounded against the wood, causing the walls to shake. A vase of flowers fell from the bedside table. It broke instantly, cutting her feet. Charlotte had to act quickly. She grabbed the vanity and pushed it in front of the door before crawling behind the wardrobe. The ruthless shouts of Baxter Clearwater, Charlotte’s guardian, reverberated through the room. “Let me in, you ungrateful wench!”

  “Go away, Mr. Clearwater! You are not yourself.”

  The vanity scooched a bit, but he could not break through in his drunken state. “Until you find a husband willing to put up with your nonsense, you belong to me!” More furious pounding followed his words, and tears spilled down Charlotte’s cheeks.

  Water spread across the floor from the broken vase, chilling her toes as the first light of dawn streamed into the room through the manor windows. It was moments like this that made her miss her parents. Her father would never have let such a cruel man near his beloved daughter.

  After the death of her parents, Charlotte had been taken in by Mr. Clearwater until the lawyers could figure out what to do with her—as if she were some sort of burdensome object without a purpose. But the anger within him had not revealed itself entirely until Charlotte rejected Mr. Clearwater’s proposal.

  Her refusal had hurt him, causing the once-kind man to resort to drinking heavily. Charlotte hated the way it turned him into a fiend intent on wounding her pride or her body. She had had enough of the abuse.

  A knock upon the front door startled Baxter, and the shouting stopped.

  Hurried footfalls faded into the distance, and Charlotte took the opportunity to free herself. She shuffled over to the bag she had prepared the week prior and tiptoed towards the window. She eased it open and slithered through the gap, using her bare foot to grip the shingles on the small patch of roof beneath her window. Charlotte tossed her bag to the ground below and continued to sneak out of her bedchamber.

  But the bedchamber door burst open. A hand wrapped around her ankle in a painful grip, causing her to let out a shriek. Baxter yanked her partially inside, but Charlotte fought him. She kicked and pummeled him with her fists until his balance faltered. Without much choice, Charlotte gritted her teeth and tossed herself out the window. She slid down the slope of the roof and fell down to the terrace two stories below. Pain ricocheted through her bones.

  Charlotte pulled her trembling body from the ground and pushed open the terrace doors. She quietly crept through the study and slithered into the main corridor that led to the gallery. Her body protested each step as she made her way towards the grand staircase. Charlotte could hear Baxter, but she could not see him.

  Fear consumed her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and Charlotte heard a bellowing roar of her name as her fingers brushed the handle of the front door.

  She hurried down the front stairs and grabbed her bag from the lush green grasses that surrounded the estate. Charlotte glanced down the long dirt road and saw the delivery man’s wagon chugging its way towards town. “Wait!” she screamed. “Please! Help!”

  Charlotte waved her arms to get his attention just as Baxter caught up with her. She flailed in his arms, screaming at the top of her lungs until the wagon stopped. Somehow, she managed to bash him in the face with her bag. Baxter fell to his knees with a bloodied nose, and Charlotte ran as fast as her body would allow. Her bare feet were cut and sore, but she did not stop until she reached the wagon. The driver, who looked no more than a year or so younger than her, took one look at Charlotte’s appearance and allowed her to climb aboard.

  “Please, take me to the city…” She adjusted her appearance as best she could despite the drying blood and streaks of dirt upon her nice dress. Charlotte adjusted the pins in her hair and used the handkerchief the man offered to dry and clean her battered face.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, what was all that about?”

  Charlotte knew better than to tell the truth—not when Baxter Clearwater had half the state convinced that she was insane and needed a firm hand. “I was a maid, sir. Mr. Clearwater did not wish to lose me as a worker. He is not himself when he drinks.”

  The man beside her let out a long whistle. “It’s a good thing you got out of there, then.”

  “Yes, I am fortunate.” Charlotte glanced at the rolling hills and swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat. She was no longer the lady of Woodberry Manor. Instead, she was yet another woman without hope of surviving without a man to help her. Luckily, Charlotte only needed to be patient until her aunt sent her the money to travel west. Life, it seemed, had attempted to break her spirit. But it did not prevail.

  Though Baxter Clearwater had not been the man she needed him to be, Charlotte refused to allow him to taint her views on love and marriage. She believed in destiny and fate, in romance and mystery. And Charlotte knew the time would come when she could stare into the eyes of a man who would cherish her above all else.

  Chapter One

  Wolf Valley, Colorado

  1875

  Crisp autumn winds blew through the window, causing the curtains to rustle. It carried the sounds of wagon wheels rolling down the road and children laughing as they played. Charlotte smiled to herself as she scrubbed the floor beside the hearth, humming softly. She glanced up and caught the eye of her Aunt Katherine. "Good morning," Charlotte sighed as she dried her hands off on the rag that hung from her apron pocket. "How was breakfast?"

 
"Lovely, dear. Thank you for asking."

  Charlotte heard a strange note in her aunt's voice and knew she was holding something back. "What is it?"

  Her aunt huffed and busied her hands by tidying up the front desk. "Well, that man came by last night to see you. It was quite late, so I sent him off. It's unseemly, you know, for a gentleman to come calling at the midnight hour."

  "Mr. James and I are only friends, Aunt Katherine. He was one of the men who helped save us after the wagon took a terrible tumble during that storm a few months ago." Charlotte stood up and carried her bucket into the kitchens where she left it beside the back door. She was very much aware of how her friendship with Wesley James appeared in the eyes of the townsfolk, but she...needed him.

  And far more than he needed her, apparently.

  Charlotte returned to her aunt and sat down for a cup of tea. "Abigail and Mr. Cassady are returning soon. I hope to visit the ranch more often after they settle back in."

  Disappointment and something else flashed in her aunt's eyes. "You already spend so much time there. I would hate for folks to think—”

  "Forgive me, but I do not care what they think. I nearly lost my life in that storm, and Beth, Charlotte, and Mary Ann were with me in the thick of all that danger. We survived because we looked after one another. They are my friends. And we never would have made it if not for Wesley and his associates," Charlotte argued.

  "Wesley, is it? You refer to him by his Christian name, and you expect me to believe that you are merely friends?” Her aunt scoffed and stirred a tiny silver spoon around in her tea. “Mark my words, Charlotte Beatrice Woodberry, men like Mr. James are only after one thing. And when they get it, they leave you behind to face the consequences alone. God rest your mother’s soul, but she was the first to shun me when I ran away with William.”

  “She was?”

  “Yes. She told me if I walked out of our family for love, then I was dead to her.” There was a hint of sadness in Aunt Katherine’s voice as if she were reliving the memory. “I was hurt, and I learned my lesson. After William left me, I swore to never let another man take advantage. I fear you may be following in my footsteps with Mr. James. He has a reputation, Charlotte.”

  The people of Wolf Valley often spoke very highly of Wesley, but there were times when his libertine ways tainted his image in the eyes of the town. “He seems to have changed.”

  “You have not known him long enough to have a say in the matter,” Aunt Katherine countered. “Mr. James is exactly who he was a month ago. Your presence alone doesn’t change who he is at his core. You be sure to remember that when you find yourself having to choose between your alleged friendship and your reputation.”

  Charlotte watched her aunt shuffle off into the back room of the inn with a cup of tea in hand. She cleaned up the table and hung her apron up for the day. Just beyond the front door of the inn was a world waiting to be explored. Charlotte pushed her way outside, hearing the bell above her head chime, and strolled along the street. She could not work at her aunt’s inn all her life. Charlotte had dreams—none so brave as Abigail’s, but she wanted to make something of herself. She wanted to prove Mr. Clearwater was wrong each time he had called her useless.

  The wind caused her curls to flutter as she eased herself through the gap between the sheriff’s office and the telegram office. Charlotte crept through the shadows and found the back entrance to the brothel. She knocked lightly on the door. Ariel Divine smiled from ear to ear when Charlotte revealed herself. The two of them hurried to Ariel’s private quarters. While most women were shocked or scandalized by the acts of the soiled doves within the walls of the Branded Mare, Charlotte was unaffected by the lewd acts of debauchery. If anything, they fascinated her.

  She saw nothing unnatural about what took place in the establishment, for she felt there was no other form of expression more natural. The women of the Branded Mare earned an honest wage while providing a service to the men of Wolf Valley, and Charlotte saw no shame in that. Though her own ideals of intimacy were firmly grounded in love and romance, she kept an open mind as she closed Ariel’s door behind her. “What do you know about Wesley James?”

  “The cowboy? I’ve met him around town.” Ariel sauntered over to the window and took a seat in the chair beside her bed. She pointed to the stool opposite her, and Charlotte accepted the invitation with a firm nod of her head. “Wesley James has never stepped foot inside this place, but his name gets around.”

  Charlotte took a moment to observe Ariel. Dramatically arched brows, plush lips painted in a soft pink hue, flowing ash-brown locks, porcelain complexion, and sharp cheekbones came together in a very strong, yet feminine appearance. She had wide hips and a narrow waist. Ariel had the curves that women feared and men desired. It was no surprise that she had become a very respected worker in the brothel. In comparison to Ariel, Charlotte felt hideous.

  Had Wesley found her beautiful?

  “Do you know if he is courting anyone?”

  Ariel lifted a brow in question and lit a hand-rolled cigarette. Smoke curled from the end as she inhaled deeply. “Not at the moment. But he was recently involved with someone. Maybelle Parker down at the mayor’s office, I believe.”

  “But...Maybelle is married to Archie.”

  “Men who have affairs with married women do so out of fear of gettin’ attached,” Ariel explained as a cloud of smoke puffed from between her lips and wafted out the window. “Heck, half the men who come through here are married, but they come for the pleasure, not the commitment. It doesn’t mean they love their wives any less. Some men just ain’t built to have just one woman. Wesley, however, has a tendency to inspire women to leave their husbands.”

  “How?”

  “I hear he’s a fantastic lover, but I think there’s more to it.” Ariel took another pull on her cigarette and reached over to uncork a bottle of liquor. She offered some to Charlotte, but Charlotte turned it down. “Women around these parts ain’t much different than the ones back East, in my humble opinion. They come here lookin’ for a fresh start only to find themselves takin’ care of a man and havin’ his children. They get stuck in patterns and keep their heads down. That’s where Wesley James comes in.”

  “He takes advantage?”

  Ariel shook her head. “Cowboys ain’t the sort to sit still long enough to do much of anything besides get some provisions from the mercantile and a drink down at the saloon. But they have an air of excitement to them—the dangerous life on the trails and rugged good looks are a lethal combination for the innocent little homemakers like Maybelle Parker. And those same women who tend to their households are the first ones to get all soft and pliant for a man like Wesley. It’s them who pursue him. The problem is that he never says no to their advances.”

  Charlotte did not know what to do with the information, so she tucked it away in the back of her mind and asked, “What about the others?”

  “Boone Cassady is about as straight shootin’ as they come. Everyone knows Wesley James’s wild streak, and the whole town is about sick of Sam Cassady. Jesse Porter has been here just as long as the others, but he’s more of a mystery. No one really knows much about him.”

  Charlotte had known the four of them since they saved her and the others, but she barely knew them. Foolish hope had allowed her to believe that she had known Wesley well enough to consider him a friend. Sadly, her talk with Ariel proved her wrong. “When did you get to Wolf Valley? Were they here before you?”

  “From what I know, they’ve just always been here,” Ariel answered. “People don’t talk about it much, but it’s come to my attention several times that no one really knows when they came to town. The ranch was there before the town was built.”

  “That is…”

  “Strange, isn’t it?” she chuckled. “I’ve only been here for three years, Charlotte. If you want real answers, I suggest asking them yourself. And if you really believe Wesley is a good man deep down inside, then don’t let the
people of this town change your mind. Keep getting to know him, and eventually, it will all work out.”

  “Do you think I’m wasting my life scrubbing floors?”

  “I think if you feel restless enough to notice that your life ain’t movin’ forward, then you need to answer that wild call inside of you. If you don’t, then you’re lettin’ down everybody who moved out west to chase a fortune or a dream.”

  She always hungered for a life that wasn’t dictated by the way society viewed women. Charlotte did not want to anger her aunt, but she needed to forge her own path. She was grateful for the warm bed to sleep in and the opportunity to earn money while working at the inn, but if she could convince Sam Cassady that she would be an asset to the ranch before his straight shootin’ older brother returned, then Charlotte had a chance to join the excitement of Abigail’s new life. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Not a lot of people do, Charlotte,” Ariel snickered. “If you had everythin’ you needed in life, then you would not be feelin’ the way you do.”

  And it was at that moment when Charlotte realized that she hadn’t stopped running since she escaped the abuse of Baxter Clearwater. In fact, Charlotte wasn’t sure if she would ever stop looking for a better life.

  “Thank you, Ariel.” Charlotte took her leave so the woman could get back to work and continued her walk through town with a mind weighed down by new questions. She glanced around at the faces that milled past her and wondered if they knew anything about the men of Silver Fox Ranch. With Abigail visiting her family in Virginia, Charlotte knew she had to find the answers she needed on her own. In fact, she had a brilliant idea—one that included the help of Sam Cassady and his questionable moral compass.

  Charlotte whistled to a carriage driver and paid him to take her out to the Silver Fox Ranch. Since leaving New York, Charlotte Woodberry wasn’t the sort of woman to wait for destiny to come knocking on her door. She had to seize the day and go searching for it. A brilliant smile erupted on her blushing face as Wolf Valley disappeared from sight. Excitement bubbled up inside of her at the prospect of an adventure, one that was likely to end with self-discovery.