Taken in Turns
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 2: An Unlikely Arrangement
The trouble started on a Thursday night.
The saloon was thick with heat and temper, the kind that made men forget sense and remember pride. Nita felt it before the first word was spoken—felt it in the way the room leaned, in the way her music no longer held them steady.
Her fingers slowed.
That was enough.
“You losin’ your touch?” Elijah called from his table, a crooked grin on his face, though his eyes weren’t laughing.
“She ain’t losin’ anything,” Samuel snapped, already stepping away from the piano’s edge.
“Didn’t ask you,” Elijah shot back, pushing his chair aside and standing.
Across the room, Thomas set his glass down untouched.
“Sit back down,” he said, calm as ever—but there was steel underneath.
“No,” Elijah replied. “Not this time.”
The room went quiet in pieces—voices dropping, cards stilled, men shifting just enough to watch what was coming.
Nita stopped playing altogether.
The silence rang louder than the music had.
Samuel moved first. “You got somethin’ to prove, or you just enjoy makin’ a fool of yourself?”
Elijah took a step forward. “Careful, little brother.”
“Or what?”
“That’s enough.”
Thomas stepped between them now, solid as a wall. “We settle this without blood.”
Samuel scoffed. “You think that’s still an option?”
“It is if you make it one.”
Elijah’s jaw tightened. “We’ve been circlin’ this for weeks. I’m done waitin’.”
“For what?” Thomas asked, though he already knew.
Elijah’s eyes flicked toward Nita.
That was answer enough.
Samuel followed the look. “Yeah,” he said. “So am I.”
The air turned sharp.
And then—
“Stop.”
Nita’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
All three turned to her.
She stood from the piano, hands still, eyes clear and unshaken. No fear in them. No hesitation.
“I won’t have this turn into a grave,” she said. “Not for me.”
“No one’s—” Elijah started.
“You are,” she cut in. “All of you. Maybe not tonight. But soon.”
That truth sat heavy.
Thomas didn’t argue.
Samuel didn’t either.
Elijah looked away first.
Nita stepped forward, out from behind the piano, into the open space between them.
“You want me,” she said plainly.
None of them denied it.
“You want me as a wife,” she continued.
This time, the silence stretched longer.
Samuel shifted, uneasy. “That ain’t something to divide up like land.”
“No,” Nita said. “It isn’t.”
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