Spanish Posse: Episode 2: The Casanova and the Cyprian

By Purple Hazel

This is the second installment in the thrilling Spanish Posse series, a Wild West Erotic Romance Serial, by author Purple Hazel.

Back in Fort Worth, the search for Caroline continues with vigor…that is, until Carl Sunday and the local Sheriff finally tie it all together, and reconstruct what must have happened to enable Caroline to escape the town unnoticed.

We now learn of the rather sordid past of the story’s vengeful nemesis. It turns out that Carl is a very evil man, of rather nefarious talents, and has every intention of eventually tracking Caroline down. And he has the special skills necessary to do just that. 

The Casanova and the Cyprian is filled with action, suspense, and steamy love scenes. Hold on! It’s gonna be one helluva wild ride!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: Apr 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781682992326

Purple Hazel

Purple Hazel is... King and Caroline Medlin from Denver, Colorado. Purple is Caroline's favorite color. Hazel is the color of her eyes. We fell in love and King started writing short stories to Caroline while we were dating. Eventually the stories got better and better, so we started writing full length novels. Starting with Star Kitten in the fall of 2015, we have written five books that will be launched over the next year or so including Wild Fields (launched November 21, 2015), Morgana's Handmaid (Valentine's Day 2016), Spanish Posse (spring 2016), and Free Company (summer 2016). These are all historical romances using fictional characters in real-life situations amidst the backdrop of actual events that shaped world history. People and places may very well color our notion of history and the moral principles that people follow or ignore; yet we feel only true love truly endures all things. It's all that really matters in the grand scheme of things. Therefore LOVE is all that we write about. Love, true devotion, and the desire to find a companion to accompany us through life's many trials, tribulation, and best of all those moments of profound joy that give life real meaning; that's what it's all about.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Runaway

Fort Worth 1872

The day after Caroline’s escape

Meanwhile, back in Fort Worth, all leads had been exhausted. Having searched the town, and all the obvious places that Caroline could have hidden for the night, they had nevertheless failed in catching Caroline trying to board the train that morning…

In fact, the night before, and throughout the night after the fire was put out for that matter, Carl had constantly presumed that Caroline went off somewhere to take a nap. That would have been typical of her. She could fall asleep in the middle of almost anything—except sex of course. Caroline would nap at most any moment and for any period of time that she could. She might even sit down in a chair in the middle of a crowded saloon and just doze off, sitting right by a customer while he was playing cards.

If she could rest her head somehow on a warm shoulder, or against a wall, she’d drift off with a pleasant grin on her face. And even during the busiest night she’d finish her shift and fall fast asleep wherever she was until someone awakened her. Then she’d make an effort to get out of her corset with the help of some of her girlfriends and just collapse naked on her little bed upstairs. She’d sleep for eight or nine hours with no problem at all, wake up all groggy and disoriented, then dash to the privy to relieve herself. Carl had seen that routine repeated literally hundreds of times.

That’s kind of why the night before, Carl assumed—during the first couple hours of the search at least—that Caroline had simply found a place to get her forty winks while the fire was raging. Likely she just didn’t wake up and that’s why she never came back to the saloon. Within a couple hours of searching the town though, Carl was beginning to suspect that Caroline was actually trying to leave town.

Naturally he didn’t want to believe that at first; and the thought only vaguely occurred to him initially, but it was there in the back of his mind nevertheless—that faint little hint of doubt regarding whether he truly had emotional control of the girl and whether she’d ever dare try running away. Eventually it was really gnawing at him. He tried to push it from his mind repeatedly but by morning he was finally beginning to realize his greatest fear might be coming true.

Deluded over the years into considering himself to be her wise and benevolent protector, Carl had always tried believing that his best girl Caroline was ultimately loyal and devoted to him—despite the way he often treated her. In his arrogance, he’d ignored the obvious…denied all the signs that she was becoming dissatisfied. Preferred to think of himself as her caretaker and that she should truly appreciate all he’d done for her. He’d taken her in, after all, kept her off the streets where she’d just as likely have ended up dead if it hadn’t been for him. She should be thankful...that’s how he saw it.

He’d always tried to cling to thoughts like that, despite how unrealistic they might be. Sure he’d had to discipline her on occasion—all the girls needed correcting from time to time. But with Caroline it was more an issue of setting her straight about things. Wipe away any thoughts she had of improving her lot in life, even if he was only fooling himself as to the effectiveness of this tactic. Reality, however, was that she had needs he simply could not fulfill. She had ambitions that were far beyond what Carl could provide. His only real choice was to try and keep her from seeking them out on her own. And he certainly couldn’t let her believe in herself or gain self-confidence...or someday she’d try walking out on him, he just knew it.

Yet despite his love for her, which was certainly quite intense, Carl could never let on that he actually felt that way toward her. Quite the contrary, he always strove to keep her down, keep her doubting herself, and prevent her from finding the inspiration to try and better herself by running off with some handsome suitor. With all the girls in fact, he felt he needed to maintain that persona of an inflexible and only occasionally magnanimous taskmaster—who could dominate and threaten them all into submission and compliance with his demands by removing their privileges whenever they misspoke or got out of line...even throw them out onto the street leaving them destitute if he chose to do so. Therefore, to most all the women he was little more than a heartless bastard most of the time, to put it bluntly.

But perhaps it needed to be that way really. That’s how Carl Sunday saw things. It had always worked better in the long run, he’d found. He couldn’t worry about whether his whores were satisfied with their lives. They were only prostitutes after all. Satisfaction? That would be absurd. Plus, he wouldn’t dare appear to be compassionate and caring toward them. Didn’t dare address their emotional needs at all. This could turn out to be disastrous. Accommodating them would only indicate weakness. Displaying any form of weakness might encourage insolence, if not open rebellion.

Women are manipulative creatures, as he’d learned, and fully capable of organizing each other into an allied force when confronting a single, male authority figure. Common floozies were certainly no different in that regard. That’s why Carl was so terribly strict and harsh with all of them. Never let them out from under his thumb. Never let them get any big ideas. Because of that, he’d never truly worried that his lovely Caroline might consider seeking her independence. He’d quashed any and all attempts to woo her away from him as well.

But as the night wore on, sadly it began to look more and more as though she’d finally been inspired to do so. Every hour that passed with Carl searching the town in fact, it became clearer that she’d made a break for it and Carl begrudgingly began to realize he’d have to face facts.

What’s more, if she did, that meant she must have secretly saved up a lot of money for the trip; and that she’d likely choose to leave via the train station. After all, where else would she go? How else could she get out of Fort Worth besides the afternoon stagecoach; and if she attempted that anyone in the town would see her doing so. Therefore, the train was her only logical, best option. Yet they’d looked practically everywhere and no one had seen hide nor hair of her since shortly after the fire bell had alerted the town around midnight.

She’d never try and go home, he concluded. She’d likely make for a big city; especially being such an attractive young cyprian like she was. In a panic he later searched her room, and found a loose floorboard, which he lifted up and saw it had been used as a place to stash her things. It had now been almost completely cleared out. Her original peasant dress was gone, and her fancy parlor dress she’d acquired a year earlier, was tossed aside. Sure enough, his fears were confirmed. She was gone.

Regardless of how she wanted to try and leave town however, she’d almost certainly have to have an accomplice. Carl believed that right from the start. Caroline was naturally lazy, disorganized, and habitually lethargic to begin with. Someone would have to help her make the decision to try and abandon her life as a saloon girl. And, she was also so terribly gullible—which often amused and occasionally annoyed him as well. She’d trust the most outrageously ludicrous claims from some of the most obvious liars sometimes.

That said, Carl should probably have counted his blessings! To be sure, if she was gullible enough to fall for Carl’s bullshit all these years...keeping her under his thumb, keeping her under his control, enjoying her body on occasion...then for that he should simply be thankful and basically just accept her decision to leave. He should have of course, but he would not. Not Carl. He was far too stubborn and prideful for a pitiful rationalization like that.

On the contrary, Carl now had the awful feeling of coldness and embarrassment that men often feel, when they suspect a woman’s sincerity has been nothing more than a charade. It all seemed like a punch to the gut. A vicious blow to his enormous ego. The sense of betrayal gnawed at him and made his blood run cold like ice water in his veins. Anger and resentment soon followed...and Carl was certainly not a man that a young lady or anyone else for that matter should ever provoke. Not if they valued their safety.

The conversations with the Sheriff were also so terribly frustrating. At first, the Sheriff did like most law enforcement people and made simple assumptions based on the most likely explanation. Sheriff first assumed she’d just turn up somewhere eventually. Then Sheriff impassively agreed to search the town with his few remaining deputies still on duty. After a few hours though, the Sheriff started acknowledging other possibilities. And it was indeed the Sheriff himself who first suggested that everyone just go get some sleep and wait until the eight o’clock train arrived.

Therefore, with all the information they’d hastily compiled, by noon on the same day as Caroline and Rex were visiting Dora Lynne’s dress shop, getting fitted and measured for a new wardrobe, and later checking in to the Grand Hotel in Dallas, Carl Sunday and the Fort Worth Sheriff were starting to piece it together. Meriwether Middlefield had first hired a hearse from Hezekiah the undertaker at about 10pm, ringing his door "in the middle of the night!" as Hezekiah described it rather overdramatically, using that as his vehicle for transportation down to the station…

According to Hezekiah, Yeah, that feller he claimed he’d come back later in the mornin’...after picking up the body of his ‘dear Aunt Maude’, or so he told me. Said he’d be a’ deliverin’ it to ma’ shop for preparation for burial. Then he’d be transportin’ it in a more decent coffin on to Houston the next day. That’s how the city slicker explained it to me, claimed Hezekiah.

Yet come ten in the morning, the old undertaker went on to say, he ain’t never showed up! The first Hezekiah even heard about the abandoned hearse, he further stated, was from the Sheriff himself when they visited his mortuary that morning.

The Sheriff was now beginning to share in Carl’s suspicions that Meriwether Middlefield was behind all this. It was only a quarter mile back to the train station as they walked briskly together, with the Sheriff apologizing repeatedly for not just detaining the fellow at the station earlier. Had he done so, things would be quite different now, that was for sure!

This frustrated Carl to no end, but he suppressed his anger out of respect for his old friend who’d regularly donated his services—and those of his street-tough deputies on numerous occasions—to quell disturbances at Carl’s saloon. Indeed, there were many times he’d responded; even in the middle of the night or early morning, and when push came to shove he’d always taken Carl’s side in the past. Carl appreciated that. Mostly mad at themselves and not each other however, the two men next went straight to the mail office at the train station.

However insane it seemed, it was beginning to look like the suspect had somehow hidden her on the train somewhere to get her out of town; and sure enough...as the employees there confirmed...their Mr. Middlefield had purchased postage for a very large packing crate, and then rolled it on a push cart over to a hearse parked near the rail platform before the train arrived. As one railyard worker put it, That’s pretty much all I kin tell ya’ ’bout that Mister. ’Ole boy come up ’n bought himself some space on the mail car. Big box it was. Wanted to load it up ’imself too. Claimed it was fragile. Said he preferred to handle it personal-like. Cordial feller he was. Slicked up suit ’n all. Cain’t tell ya’ much else, I reckon.

No one saw anything else after that, of course, but Carl could pretty much picture the rest. This was clearly the proverbial smoking gun. That dandy from New Orleans had cleverly slipped her out of town by merely hiding her inside the mail car. "And dammit if ain’t nobody saw nothing else, muttered Carl under his breath, Esos Babosos."

Well, I’ll be. That’s incredible, Carl! exclaimed the Sheriff. Carl merely nodded and smirked with a frustrated "Pffft! There was nothing else he could think of to say. In fact, neither of them could fathom how pretty young Caroline could somehow hide in that wooden box inside a sweltering mail car for half an hour while the train loaded up; and then chugged down the line to Dallas to await unloading. Don’t that beat the Dutch?" added the Sheriff with a snort. But somehow that must be precisely how she’d made it out of town.

Now the whole crazy caper was fully revealed. Accomplice, motive, method, and evidence—all were abundantly clear. Rex Middlefield had obviously outsmarted them both that morning. The Sheriff then turned back to the man at the desk and asked if there was any way to check on whether whatever was in that box ever made it to Dallas.

Any way we kin check up on Mr. Middlefield’s big ’ole package he sent? I kinda wonder what we might find out from them boys down the line. The old fellow nodded and simply said, I reckon we can, Sheriff. Juss give me a lil’ while to find out.

The mail station then very kindly wired Dallas for the staff there to find out if the purchased crate had ever arrived at the station. It most certainly had, they later said, but it was empty, and what’s more the top had been removed. All that was left inside of it—claimed the guard supposedly in charge of the mail car—was the core of a recently-consumed apple. Otherwise there was no trace of them. That’s all they kin tell us, Sheriff. I’m sure sorry, said the mail clerk. Ya’ll lose sumpin’ important?

Carl grunted a frustrated sigh. The Sheriff merely nodded and thanked the man for his assistance.

Yep...reckon so, he added. But much obliged for yer hayulp anyhow. The Sheriff half-smiled, turning away. Carl meanwhile had already stalked away, dejected and dispirited.

Thus, at midday, Carl and the town Sheriff stood on that now-empty train platform facing each other, both shaking their heads in frustration. The Sheriff was first to break the brief silence. Well, Carl, I ain’t sure just what we kin do now. You problee know it, but ma’ jurisdiction pretty much ends at Fort Worth city limits. Carl looked down and kicked at the dust on the clapboards where he was standing. Sheriff sighed and added, I’m sorry, pardner. That’s about all there is to it, I’m afraid.

But that was only his official jurisdiction, not the end of his abilities. There was still more he could do to help his friend. He patted Carl on the shoulder and said, But don’t worry yerself, though. I bet I kin git us some hayulp over there in Dallas, one way ’r another.

Poor Carl. He was fiercely committed to finding Caroline again, and he realized he’d most likely still need the Sheriff’s assistance in finding her trail. The way he saw it the only logical next step was to have someone waiting in Dallas Union railway station the next morning watching out for Rex and Caroline trying to board any train going on to Houston where Middlefield had said he was heading. Perhaps this was what the Sheriff was contemplating.

Any way we can catch them trying to head on to Houston in the morning? asked Carl. The bastard said he was heading that way next. Think we could try it? Grasping at straws, Carl wondered if that might indeed be his very last chance to stop runaway Caroline from disappearing forever.

The Sheriff was already thinking just that, as a matter of fact, and started nodding even before Carl finished talking. Yep. That’s exactly what I’m plannin’ on doin,’ old friend, he replied. Let me see what ah kin scare up from this ’ole boy here. I’ll ask ’im. Therefore the Sheriff decided to use his official capacity as an officer of the law as best he could by putting the train station in Fort Worth right to work tracking down the two fugitives, directing the staff there to put the word out to their colleagues down the line in Dallas. He was relieved at both their willingness and their ability to help.

That’s simple enough, said the old geezer at the nearby booth who’d originally sold Rex his ticket. We’ll just wire them folks at the station up ’ere ’n tell ’em ta’ let us know if a man fittin’ yer feller’s description purchases a ticket tomorrow mornin’. Right easy to do, if we describe ’im real good for ’em, that is. Carl heaved a long sigh of relief at hearing of this. You mean they’ll watch out for him if we tell them what he looks like? he asked excitedly.

Yep...I reckon they kin do that if they have a mind to, replied the clerk. Shall I git the telegraph operator fer ya’ ’gin? Sheriff nodded and said, Yeah. ’N thank ya’ kindly, Mister. He then detailed for the fellow what they were looking for.

Carl also urged the man at the ticket booth to ask his colleagues in Dallas to be sure and look for a gentleman accompanying a young lady. They’ll be unmarried see? he assured him, so look for no wedding ring on her finger. Big difference in age...they’ll be easy to spot. You can’t miss ’em, and the Sheriff reaffirmed this. He’s right, said the Sheriff, Older male in a black suit…goes by the name of Meriwether Middlefield...travelin’ with a young gal ’bout half his age. Then Carl added in, "Barely half his age! And probably wearing a dirty peasant dress. Worn-out shoes too."

The train station manager speedily jotted these things down and began sending the description via telegraph to his counterparts in Dallas. So far things seemed to be working out well…

However, the next burning question in the Sheriff’s mind was what to do once they’d identified him. Truly, if the train station in Dallas saw Rex with Caroline trying to board a train heading to Houston, just what in the hell could they do about it? Initially the Sheriff hesitated using the authorities in Dallas to try and arrest Rex. So far, they had no probable cause for detaining him. He was not transporting a minor. This was not a kidnapping. But could the police or railroad security simply watch for these people and inform the Sheriff if they saw a couple fitting that vague description...and hold them until he got there? That was certainly asking a lot, because there could be twenty or thirty different couples looking similar to them.

What’s more, the even bigger problem was how to explain to the Dallas police just why they were needed. After all, what crime had Rex