Chapter 13

The door gate to ‘The Blossom’ swung shut in front of them, the sound echoing like the final note of a sad melody. Ben watched them go, his heart heavy with the weight of their decision. He knew that marriage to Sly Barrera was not the fairy tale ending they had dreamed of, but in the harsh reality of Lawless Ridge, it was a chance at a better life.

Turning to Goldie, he saw the same mix of emotions reflected in her eyes. “We’ve got to get to that auction,” he said, his voice gruff with determination. “We can’t let any more women fall into that monster’s clutches.”

They hurried to the carriage waiting outside, the horse’s breath steaming in the chilly morning air. Goldie’s hand trembled as she took Ben’s, allowing him to help her up into the plush seat. She was dressed in a simple but elegant gown, the perfect disguise for a lady of means. Ben settled in beside her, his eyes scanning the street, searching for any sign of trouble.

“Goldie,” he began, his voice low and intense. “You have to come with me to the auction. We need to show the owner that you’re not just a whore anymore, you’re my wife.”

Goldie nodded, her expression resolute. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” she murmured, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

As they approached the auction house, Ben could feel the tension coiling in his gut like a rattlesnake ready to strike. He knew that Goldie was strong, that she could handle herself, but the thought of her playing the part of a woman to be bought and sold was like a knife to his soul. But he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Goldie, ever the actress, leaned into Ben, her hand resting lightly on his thigh. “You know what to do,” she whispered, her voice a mix of steel and silk. “Keep up the act, darling. We’re going to save them all.”

The auction house was a grim, utilitarian building that had seen better days. The paint was peeling, and the windows were covered in dust, but the sign above the door was freshly painted, a garish red that seemed to mock the misery that took place within its walls. The owner, a rotund man with a greasy smile, greeted them with a flourish of his hat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Owen,” he leered, his eyes raking over Goldie with a hunger that made Ben’s hand itch for the comforting weight of his gun. “What a delightful surprise. I’ve been expecting some ... special guests.”

Goldie’s smile never faltered, her eyes sparkling with a mischief that made Ben’s heart swell with pride. “We’re here to expand our collection,” she said, her voice a sultry purr that seemed to stroke the man’s ego. “We’ve heard good things about your stock.”

The owner’s eyes flickered over Goldie, a hint of recognition in his gaze, but he said nothing of her past. Instead, he leered at Ben, his oily smile never wavering. “Ah, the newlyweds,” he sneered. “Looking to build your own little empire, are ya?”

Goldie’s hand tightened on Ben’s thigh, her nails digging in slightly. Ben felt the heat of her anger, the desire to strike out at the man who had once sold her like a piece of cattle. But he knew that now was not the time for retribution. Not yet.

The owner of the auction house led them into the back, where a group of frightened women huddled together. Their eyes were wide with fear, their bodies trembling with the anticipation of what was to come. Goldie’s heart broke for them, knowing all too well the fate that awaited them if Ben’s plan failed.

The owner’s leer grew wider as he gestured to the four most beautiful women in the group. “Ah, these are the freshest of the bunch,” he said, his voice greasy. “Just arrived from the East, ripe for the picking.”

The first was Rhoda Mosley, a young woman with fiery red hair and eyes that seemed to burn with a fierce intelligence. She stood tall, her posture proud despite the shackles that bound her wrists. The second was Allie Decker, a blonde with a figure that would make any man’s mouth water. She trembled slightly, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

The third was Henrietta Bullock, a brunette with a sharp, angular face that spoke of a life of hardship. Her eyes were cold, calculating, and Ben knew she would not go quietly to whatever fate awaited her. The owner took a step closer, his breath hot and foul as he leaned in to whisper in Goldie’s ear. “These three are the cream of the crop,” he leered. “Virginal and fresh, they’ll fetch a high price.”

Goldie’s stomach churned at his words, but she forced a smile to her lips. “We’ll take them,” she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper that seemed to wrap around the man’s lust. “But we’d like to inspect the merchandise first.”