The Shy Captain

  © Copyright 2018 by Michelle Sutton

  Cover designed by the author

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or any information retrieval or storage system without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Shy Captain

  (Tombstone Series, book 1)

  By Michelle Sutton

  Chapter One

  Sammie peered with some hesitance around the corner. She needed to suck it up and mingle with the other actors. How else would she overcome her extreme shyness? A number of attractive guys in historical costumes littered the street. She spotted a banker, a preacher, and a cowboy who had a slim waist and broad shoulders. Too bad she couldn't see his face from where she stood. A few roughneck-types strutted past the authentic-looking group and eyed her with interest. Was it that obvious she was new in town?

  While the one cowboy was handsome — at least from the back view — picking up a man wasn't her reason for being in Tombstone, Arizona. Not today, anyway. She had to learn the laws of attraction first and how to flirt properly. The more personal stuff like dating and kissing would come in due time.

  She redirected her attention to a more neutral area and walked across the road. Music poured from Big Nose Kate's saloon and a woman in a black and red satin dress leaned against the door. She batted her eyelashes at the same rough-looking cowboys Sammie try to ignore. The lady in red twirled her feather boa and snapped the gum in her mouth.

  The group of men moved closer and Sammie couldn't help staring as the woman spoke to the best-looking guy in the bunch. Wearing a sensual grin, the brazen woman clutched the bandana tied around his neck and pulled him inside the saloon, her lips firmly pressed against his. His two friends made howling noises and shouted after him, "Go for it, Billy!"

  Her jaw dropped. If she didn't know they were playacting she would swear that woman really was pulling him into the den of iniquity for an activity that made her skin prickle. Heat scrambled up her neck to her ears.

  Would she have to act that way with the cowboys if she played a saloon girl? She sure hoped not. She'd never kissed a man before. And her childhood friend didn't count. Her stomach did flips at the mere suggestion. She'd probably get sick all over the cowboy's dusty boots.

  Once she found the store, she pulled open the door to the Shady Lady's Closet and peered inside. Her heart thrummed and a slight buzzing vibrated in her ears as she scanned the room and took in the wide variety of fabrics and clothing styles.

  Sometimes her body had a hard time telling the difference between excitement and terror. Like when thunder had struck the road next to her home and it took her pulse what seemed like forever to slow down. This time her pulse felt pretty much the same. Maybe she was more terrified than excited and she just didn't want to admit that to herself.

  "Can I help you?" An older woman gave her a cursory glance. The tag on her shirt said Betty.

  Sammie drew in a calming breath and walked over to the large picture window. She pointed at the actors down the street. "Do you know those people?"

  Betty leaned toward the window and studied who Sammie pointed at. "Sure. Why?"

  "This dark-haired lady dressed in a black and red saloon girl outfit just grabbed a guy by the neck and kissed him. She seemed to be really getting into her part."

  The sales lady chuckled. "That'd be Joe and Leslie. Their stage names are Billy and Lucy and they do that all the time. I think it's just to get a rise out of people. They're newly married so they're still into each other, if you know what I mean."

  She eyed Betty closely. "Well, I'm not married, so I won't be required to get physical with any of the actors, will I?"

  "Not unless you want to. And these days with all the lawsuits and such, I'd make sure to get the man's permission first, so they don't sue you for sexual harassment."

  "Okay." While she understood that issue well, due to the military, she still found it ironic. In the past men would be thrilled to get a free sample. Nowadays just about anyone could sue you. She'd keep that in mind. Not that she planned to get physical with a complete stranger, good-looking or otherwise.

  "So, do you know what you want?"

  "Not yet." She bit her lip and searched the rack of dresses near the back of the store. She fingered a corset and smiled. She still couldn't believe that she was about to don what was essentially underwear from the 1800s and parade down the street. She adored the outfit, though, much more than the schoolmarm's getup or the socialite's wardrobe. The saloon dresses were gorgeous. Just sexy enough to make her giggle when she found some on the Internet and pictured herself decked out in satin and lace.

  Since childhood, she'd been deprived of normal girly frills and ended up becoming more of a tomboy than a girly-girl anyway. Even now because she was in the military she rarely wore pretty clothing, or even dolled herself up for that matter. Because of her deceased mother's strong views on dressing too sexy, she'd even skipped her junior and senior proms, which hadn't been too painful since she hadn't had a date anyway. Who'd want to date a girl with buck teeth and thick glasses even if she did have blonde hair and a decent figure?

  Thankfully the Army had changed all that after she finished her initial training. Because she was college educated and an officer, boot camp hadn't been required or she may not have finished. The Lasik surgery and braces she'd worn for the past three years had totally changed the shape and look of her face. Sometimes she barely recognized herself.

  She ran her tongue over her smooth teeth. Her braces had been off about eighteen months now and she still ran her tongue over them every day to make sure they were no longer there.

  She smiled at her reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. While she feared playacting a temptress and dressing like a loose woman, the notion still made her smile. Maybe she could learn to flirt and be successful at it for once. Because of her lack of experience, she needed all the help she could get in the charm department. But then again, she'd always enjoyed a challenge.

  This just happened to be more frightening than anything she'd ever done in the Army. It was crazy for her to be terrified. She commanded a brigade of soldiers. In comparison, how hard could it be?

  With some hesitation, she chose black bloomers and a baby blue corset with black trim. She liked the feminine color scheme, plus it seemed less wanton-looking than red. Scoffing at her shyness, she chided herself. Already she had trouble with her outfit and she hadn't even started playacting her role yet. She had to find a way to switch hats like she did every day at work. Sometimes the costume helped define the man, or in her case, define the woman. She just needed to don the mindset along with the clothes.

  Deep inside, she knew her Vigilante experience would be harder than just trading roles. She hated feeling vulnerable and had been taught by her mother to fear looking too feminine. For her saloon girl role she'd have to wear her long, blonde hair loose and hanging past her shoulders like the other girls did. At work she always pinned her hair against her head in a tight bun.

  When she was decked out in full uniform and ready to command her troops, she could pull off the ice queen attitude, so they respected her. Or they at least acted like they did. By the sheer nature of her position she retained control. It didn't require softening her heart. In fact, showing any sign of weakness in her field was way too risky.

  Holding the garments in front of her, she peered in the mirror. From the corn
er of her eye she saw a sales associate watching her. Surely this outfit would work for its intended purpose. Since she didn't see Betty anywhere, she waved the available sales associate over for confirmation. "So, what do you think? Will this work for a saloon girl costume?"

  A younger sales woman whose tag said Anna examined the outfit Sammie held. "It'll work, but black bloomers and a red and black corset are more authentic-looking. Some actresses wear emerald green and black. Dark colors are best because they look more brazen, which is how the girls are supposed to act."

  "Oh? Maybe I can play the inexperienced working girl?"

  The young woman rolled her eyes. "You could try that. Sometimes people do stray from the stereotypical red and black. It's your money, so do what you think is best."

  "Thanks. I think I will."

  Sammie headed to the dressing room. No way was she bold enough to wear siren red. Blue matched her tan skin tone better than red or green. She slid her fingers over the satiny material as she adjusted the corset to cover as much of her bosom as she could. It was more of a challenge than she wanted to experience, but given the nature of the costume's design, it was unavoidable. She exited the dressing room and propped one leg on a chair, adjusted her garter, and laced up her new granny boots.

  Glancing at her reflection, she chuckled. Not bad at all. She wasn't used to viewing herself with her hair down and her legs and shoulders exposed. What would her mother think if she saw her shy Sam looking so pretty? She'd flip her lid for sure.

  While her outfit covered more than most prom dresses, she decided to compromise authenticity a tad further by adding the black broomstick skirt to cover her bloomers. That way she felt a bit less exposed. She'd never liked her scrawny thighs, so covering them up made sense. Plus, it might boost her confidence.

  Without thinking about who might be watching in the sales area, she pulled the skirt over her head and adjusted the bloomers. She glanced up and found several young men gawking at her through the window. Though it made her uncomfortable, she figured sooner or later she'd have to learn to deal with the extra attention. She offered a shy grin and waved the tips of her fingers.

  At once, they all seemed preoccupied, as if embarrassed that she'd caught them watching her. This flirting might be easier than she'd thought.

  She had no difficulty playing the role of the hard-nosed Army Captain at work. But then again, she had never shown up in her underwear before, either. Wouldn't that be something to see!

  She suppressed a laugh as she imagined doing just that. Boy would that get her into some serious trouble with her superiors. Some of them already had issues with women being in charge. She didn't need to give them any propane to fuel the fire.

  Sneaking one last look in the mirror, Sammie smoothed her straight hair and adjusted her tiny hat. The large, navy blue plume attached to her head pointed in the air like a fluffy antenna. She smiled at the flush now spreading across her cheeks, until her gaze slid down to her cleavage. Ugh.

  No matter how hard she tried to cover herself, she still oozed out of the top of the corset. Back in the day she'd never even worn a bikini for fear of accidentally exposing her breasts. So what would she do if she spilled out of her costume while walking down the street? Perish the thought!

  She just needed to make sure not to bend over or take any chances of them falling out. She simply didn't trust the outfit to fully contain her.

  As she headed toward the front of the store to pay for her clothing, she paused and selected a dark blue boa and wrapped it around her neck. When she tweaked it just right, some of the downy fluff slid between her breasts and made the outfit a tad less revealing. She gave her bodice one last tug hoping to hike it further up and almost bit her tongue when her hand slipped and cracked her in the chin. The adjustment lasted for all of the five steps it took for her to cross the room and reach the cash register before she started spilling out of the corset again.

  Sammie sighed. She'd have to accept it or the low neckline would drive her crazy. She was determined to do her best, even if she hadn't a clue how.

  Vowing to not focus any more on her weaknesses, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her strengths instead. How would she ever overcome her shyness if she mentally picked herself apart all the time? Since she had received compliments her entire life because of her large brown eyes, she decided to use them to draw men in, rather than displaying her bulging assets like some cheap floozy. She would flirt with class, and do it wearing baby blue satin. As long as the fluffy feather boa hid most of her cleavage she should manage just fine. She smiled as she peered at her reflection. Not bad at all.

  Sometimes she wished she still had that stick figure from her younger days. When her soldiers didn't think she was paying attention she'd hear them speculate as to why she had yet to find a husband. One young man suggested she might be one of the enlisted folks covered by the unwritten 'Don't ask, Don't tell' policy. The nerve!

  That insensitive comment had been one of the things that propelled her interest in joining the group of Tombstone actors. She needed to do something more social because going to work and coming home every day wasn't sufficient to find friends, let alone a mate for life. And she refused to try an online dating service. So when she asked her superior if the Army would have a problem with her joining the acting group while she was stationed there, he'd surprised her by agreeing to recommend her.

  He'd been enthusiastic and said, "Sure! Go ahead. No one will recognize you anyway."

  True, she didn't look anything like she did at work. Plus not many soldiers frequented Tombstone, or so she'd been told. Most weren't in the area long enough to do much sightseeing. But before she could begin she needed to drop off her street clothes in her truck. Then she'd get started with her saloon girl act.

  It was now or never.

  Chapter Two

  James 'Jimmy' Johnson leaned against the wooden post by the Longhorn Steakhouse and chewed on a toothpick as he checked out the tourists. People-watching was one of his favorite pastimes. He enjoyed studying body language. It came in handy for his counseling career and also saved his neck in crisis situations.

  A crowd of pedestrians strolled down Allen Street toward the park. Some looked like students on a field trip even though it was Saturday. Most likely the majority of the group headed toward the OK Corral for the one o'clock gunfight.

  Several female tourists smiled at him as they passed by. He nodded with his usual detached gaze, refusing to give off any vibes that might tempt one of them to strike up a conversation with him. Lately the only action he allowed himself with the ladies had been reduced to posing for photographs with tourists and public flirtation with the female actors. Things were safer that way. He didn't always trust himself to behave.

  A late bloomer, Jimmy's chunky physique hadn't hardened into muscle until the end of his senior year in high school when he started lifting weights. At the time he'd also sprouted acne on his forehead and chin. Because he'd felt self-conscious about his appearance, he didn't ask out many girls even though he'd desperately wanted to.

  Now that he'd matured both physically and emotionally, he fought the natural drive to crave female attention. He didn't want images and thoughts that would stir up trouble in his life. Plus, he was secure in his faith and had several solid friendships with men. Until the Lord brought the right woman into his life, that would have to be enough.

  The last woman he'd gotten to know while volunteering as an actor had dumped him for being a Christian. Fortunately she'd moved out of state last year. Now he kept his social calendar and work schedule overbooked. He had no time for emotional entanglements with women that would likely lead to heartache.

  He had plenty of hobbies to keep him busy. On Saturdays when he wasn't playing the part of the lonely stud for the Vigilantes, he hit up flea markets or checked out yard sales searching for antiques. It might seem like a strange hobby for a guy, but he found the treasure hunting aspect of his hobby quite addicting. Not to mentio
n that he'd made some good money by reselling many of the antiques he discovered.

  Lifting his tall cowboy hat, he swiped his forehead with his red paisley hanky. Expelling a hefty sigh, he shoved the material into his back pocket. Sure was sweltering today. Normally Tombstone suffered a dry heat. When it was this muggy out it was enough to addle a young man's brains. Thankfully it only got that sticky and hot during monsoon season.

  He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and lowered the hat back onto his head. The weather that day was hotter than a burnt boot.

  From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a tall, blonde woman wearing a blue top, black skirt, and a matching feather in her straight hair. She tossed her boa over her neck as she exited Big Nose Kate's Saloon and entered Madame Mustache's shop.

  The way she moved made him think of a confident woman who knew what she wanted. Either that or she just knew how to play the part well. The thought made him smile. He liked an assertive woman as long as she didn't get pushy with him. He wanted to make the first move. The problem was he had lousy discernment. He struggled with purity and had come too close to sliding down that slippery slope. And ironically, that situation had happened after he became a Christian. Before he found Jesus he couldn't get a woman to even look his way.

  Women who were only interested in one thing were not the type of women he wanted to date. Just in case she might be that type of woman, he directed his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn't chance it again. He'd learned the hard way to avoid women who didn't share his faith.

  He resumed leaning against the post and visited on occasion with tourists. Minutes later she emerged with a black fan. She flipped it open, waving it under her chin as she strutted past him at a fast clip, not once looking his way. He stared longer than was typical for his character. Good grief, she was attractive.

  He followed her movement with his gaze despite his promise to steer clear of the woman. Her voluptuous figure heated him to the core, so he knew he should stop staring, but his eyes wouldn't listen to reason. How was he going to hang around her and keep his mind out of the hormone-driven gutter?