A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 by Heather Blanton Page B

particular.
    One man looked over,
looked again, and moved away. The bartender heard Logan’s question and lifted emerald
green eyes his way. With a hesitant jerk of her chin, she invited him over. “What
can I get for you?”
    “You mean besides a
roof and four walls?”
    “Whether I’ve got walls
or not shouldn’t bother you. Liquor and beer taste the same. What’ll you have?”
    Logan licked his lips
pondering the young lady instead of his desire to order a round. She sounded
something less than enthusiastic, even rehearsed.
    “Nothin’.” At the girl’s
scowl, he quickly added, “Thanks, though. I was just curious.”
    “Well, if you must
know,” she pulled the towel off her shoulder and commenced to wiping down the
bar, “this hunk of wood is going in Delilah’s new place. We just opened for
business a little early.”
    “I see.” Logan shoved
his hands in his pockets, both impressed and repulsed by Delilah’s
entrepreneurial spirit.
    “Now, across the street
there, we’ve got a tent with a live show.” The girl’s voice quivered, as if she
was nervous. “The girls don’t keep a shred of clothing on. The midnight show is
especially rowdy, if you take my meaning.”
    The girl’s discomfort
rolled off her like heat from a blacksmith’s fire. Working diligently on the
mahogany, she cleared her throat and added, “Delilah’s girls are the next
street over. See Smith. He’ll show you to the right one.” She paused. “He’s
taking bids for the virgin, as well.” She dove back into wiping the bar with a
frenzy.
    Logan froze. Virgin? Slowly, he reached out and stilled the girl’s hand. He opened his mouth to ask
about that, but the shame in her countenance abruptly changed his course. “What
are you doing here?”
    She wouldn’t look at
him. Or couldn’t. “I found myself in a tough situation, mister. Delilah gave me
a job. I just serve drinks and . . . and tell folks about her
attractions.”
    “Attractions?” Logan
released her, dropped his hand on his hip. “I can see you don’t want to be a
part of this. I can help you.”
    “I agreed to stay. I’m workin’
off some food and rent. “When she me his gaze, Logan saw the hint of anger in
her tight lips and strained jaw. “Besides, why would you help me? Because it’s
the right thing to do ?”
    “Because Christ loves
me, and He asked me to love my neighbor.”
    Tears suddenly sprang
to her eyes. “Where were you a week ago?” Without another word, she moved to
the other end of the bar and started combining low whiskey bottles.
    And just like that, the
door slammed shut. Logan knew he couldn’t push too hard, but how his heart
ached for this girl. She’d gotten herself into a deal with the devil. He only
knew Delilah by reputation, but she was one mean wench. A degenerate. She’d put
on some pretty debauched shows in her Abilene saloon, at least as best he could
recall. He’d never walked in the door sober.
    And in a few weeks, she
would be—what— auctioning off a virgin . . . to the
highest bidder?
    God help us  . . .

Chapter 10
     
     
     
     
    Disturbed deep in his
soul, Logan ambled out of the saloon and stood once more in the muck. Looking
at his boots, he didn’t miss the symbolism. Men trudged past him, lunch pails
in their hands, suspicion and fear in their eyes. Some headed to the mine, some
to their claims. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and wondered what made
Delilah want to take a filthy, hardscrabble town like Defiance and turn it into
a Barbary Coast. Why make something bad worse ? Selling virgins? What
kind of a person wanted to live like that?
    A lost one.
    The still, small Voice
reverberated in his soul like a thunderclap. Regardless of what Logan thought
about Delilah, if she died without knowing Christ, her choices would send her
to hell.
    He looked over his
shoulder at Mary Jean, pouring a miner a glass of whiskey.
    And who knows how many
with her.
    The urgency to fight washed
over him,