Obviously Robert sought insurance by including his sister, a way to keep Jake in check. Jake couldn’t blame him, but the distrust in the act sliced deeper than he would’ve imagined. Jake didn’t make friends easily, and Robert had been the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had. When Robert had chosen a woman over Jake, it had left Jake frustrated and more than a little resentful.
Still, considering Jake’s recent travails with Shep Lannigan, it showed a modicum of trust on Robert’s part to slap Jake’s name on a claim.
Whatever Robert wanted to throw his way, Jake could handle it, but this lode would likely spark interest from Lannigan, and that meant Molly was now squarely in the man’s path.
Dammit, Robert.
Chapter Four
Once the sun had set—and she and Jake had eaten a potato stew—Molly really wasn’t sure how the sleeping situation was supposed to work, so she lay on one of the beds, fully clothed. She even left her boots on, having wiped the mud from the soles after a trip to the outhouse.
The little cabin had warmed considerably from the constant fire in the tiny stove, so she didn’t need a blanket to cover her.
Lying on her back, she closed her eyes and rested her hands on her stomach.
The door opened and Jake entered, drenched yet again. The rain had been relentless, making Molly feel edgy and claustrophobic.
“You look like you’re laid out for a funeral,” he said.
She cracked an eyelid. “You’ve described perfectly what it’s like to be with you.”
He laughed, sitting on a chair and removed his boots.
She closed her eyes again, wondering how much undressing he was about to do. Soon she heard him settle onto the opposite cot. When she peeked again, he’d doused the light.
“I could sleep in the shed with the horses.” His deep voice filled the space around her.
Rain still pelted the cabin, having contrived to keep them cooped up together all day…and now all night.
Molly considered his offer. It would certainly make her feel more comfortable, but if her mama ever found out that she and Jake had shared a room…
“No. I’m a big girl. I can imagine that shed is cold and wet.”
“Cinnamon and Fernando have only complained a little.” After a moment of silence, he said, “I’ve been wondering why Robert called the claim he gave us the Chigger. Does that have some significance to you?”
“It was his nickname for me when we were young. I used to chase him around and call him chicken because we had chickens, and I thought he looked like them. He didn’t much like it, so he’d throw it back at me. Over time, it changed to chigger.”
Jake chuckled, low and deep, and in the close darkness of the cabin, the intimacy of their predicament became more pronounced.
To combat her discomfort, Molly willed her shoulders and arms to relax, then her legs, then her feet. She often did this to help her fall asleep, especially on nights when an incident in a well reminded her that real terror was never truly forgotten. She also drank copious amounts of willow bark tea, a natural sedative. Why hadn’t she thought to bring any with her from Tucson?
She breathed through the frustration of having forgotten her tea.
I’ll seek out some in Creede.
“Goodnight, Molly.”
Unable to bring herself to use his first name, she replied, “Goodnight, Mister McKenna.”
* * *
Molly awoke with a start to the burgeoning light of day. McKenna’s bunk was empty. She swung her feet to the floor and sat for a moment to fully awaken. The ever-present rat-tat-tat of the rain deflated her spirits. She’d hoped to get a bit of fresh air this morning. She unraveled the mess of her hair from the bun that no longer was holding its shape and ran her fingers through the knotted tresses to smooth them out, then quickly braided it and pushed the thick rope behind her.
Since she was already dressed and wearing her boots, she went to the coffeepot, but Jake had already gotten it started—it sat percolating upon the hot stove. He’d also brought a bucket of water inside—the pump was located outside—and left it on the workspace. She found a bar of soap and a rag and started washing the dishes from the previous day.
The door opened behind her. “Thanks for making the coffee,” she said without looking up.
“Who the hell are you?”
Screaming, she dropped the tin cup with a loud clang.
“Jesus, Boom,” Jake said from behind the giant man filling the doorway. “Are you trying to scare my guest?”
“Apologies.” The towering man took off his hat and entered the cabin, looking a bit sheepish.
Molly leaned down and retrieved the cup, her heart racing.
Jake came inside and shut the door behind him. “Boom, this is Molly Rose Simms.”
“Are you Robbie’s wife?” he asked, clearly perplexed.
“No, his sister.” She fought to steady her breath as she extended a hand to the man who could easily break her in half if he chose.
He awkwardly took it, then quickly released it. He nodded and smiled, and she exhaled.
“Sit down,” Jake instructed the man. “You’re bigger than most trees. I think you’re making Miss Simms uncomfortable.”
Molly cleared her throat. “Would you like some coffee, sir?”
The giant laughed, loud and hearty, then shook his head. “You don’t have to call me sir. No one calls me that out here. You’re much too kind. It’s such a pleasure to meet Robbie’s sister. You look a lot like him.”
“I’d say she’s prettier than Robert.” Jake caught her eye before sitting on the edge of his cot.
Her face heated from the compliment, and she busied herself with grabbing the just-washed cups, filling them with the dark brew then bringing them to the men.
“Thank you,” Boom said.
As McKenna took the other cup from her, his fingers brushed hers. She pretended it didn’t happen and instead pulled the other chair closer to the stove, acting as if she was cold. In truth, she sought to give McKenna and this man a semblance of privacy. She would’ve gone outside, but the rain still came down in sheets.
“Got any news?” McKenna asked.
“I saw the smoke from the stove, so figured you were here. I came to find out if you had any news.”
“Would you happen to know where Robert is?” Molly blurted. So much for staying out of the conversation.
“Nah. Are you lookin’ for him?”
Molly nodded.
“You came all the way to see him and you can’t find him?” Boom asked.
Molly silently agreed again.
“Huh. That don’t sound like Robbie.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jake admitted. “I’m thinking he might be out in the hills.”
Boom thought for a minute. “I did see him about ten days ago, give or take some. He was with that Winston fella and another one…I think his name was Jones. They’re Lannigan men.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jake took a swig of coffee.
“You think he’s in trouble?” Boom watched expectantly.
“Maybe.”
“You should go see Pedro.”
A derisive snort escaped McKenna. “The last time I saw that crazy Mexican, he tried to shoot me.”
“Who’s this Pedro?” Molly asked, trying her best not to intrude but failing miserably.
“He lives across the ridge,” Boom replied. “He might know what’s happening in the backcountry. He just don’t like The Jackal.”
“Who’s The Jackal?”
Boom nodded toward Jake and grinned. “Him.”
She looked at McKenna. “Why are you called that?”
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.” He turned his attention to Boom. “You’re welcome to stay the night in the shed.”
“With you?” Boom’s eyes widened as he shook his head in mock disgust.
Molly’s face heated again. She stood and busied herself with whatever dishes and potatoes she could
find. Would Jake admit that the two of them had shared his cabin the previous night?
“Yeah,” Jake drawled, “with me.”
Had Molly imagined his reluctant response? And why did his words fill her with disappointment? She tried to ignore the fact that spending the night with Mister McKenna—definitely taboo for a proper young woman—had been an exciting experience. She imagined sharing the details with her friends Ellen and Polly back in Tucson. They’d roll their eyes and demand all the particulars, but there really were none. Mister McKenna had been a perfect gentleman, and the only thing to report was that he snored. She’d finally been forced to poke him to get it to stop.
She needed to look at the bright side. At least she’d get a good night’s sleep with The Jackal in the stable with Boom.
* * *
Jake was glad when the rain finally cleared in the afternoon. Boom offered to help him fix a leaky corner in the shed.
Boom hauled a piece of lumber from the ground and handed it up to Jake. “You’ve never brought a woman here before.”
Kneeling on the slightly tilted roof after a boost from Boom, Jake grabbed the wood and fit it into an empty slot. “I think Lannigan’s having her followed. I was worried about her safety.”
The horses nickered from inside while munching on hay.
“She’s right pretty,” Boom remarked.
Jake took a nail from the corner of his mouth and pounded it in two hits. He nodded and made a noncommittal sound.
“Is she spoken for?” Boom lowered his voice a notch, apparently worried that Miss Simms might hear, or maybe the horses.
Jake grimaced. “I don’t know.” Hell, he hadn’t considered that.
“Well, not many fine ladies come to these parts. I’ve been thinking it might be time for a missus. She’s young and sturdy, and fair to look at, too. If you could put in a good word for me…unless you think Robbie’d be mad.”
Jake pounded another nail, then another, whacking each with only one swing. The words Hands off! caught in his throat, but he swallowed them back. “I’m sure she has a beau back home, Boom. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
He shrugged. “You’re probably right.”
Jake needed to seal the roof again with linseed oil and turpentine, but that would have to wait until he was back in town for supplies. There’d no doubt be more rain, but, hopefully, the leaking would be less now. He and Boom would need to bed down on the other side of the shed.
He preferred to stay in the cabin with Miss Simms, despite the impropriety of the situation. It was certainly warmer and drier and more comfortable. And, the truth was, he needed to be near her in case they had any trouble.
But it wasn’t right to do it in front of Boom, at least not for Miss Simms’ reputation, and while the man was harmless enough—and had aided Jake and Robert in more than one scrape—he’d better not catch the burly Russian pressing his charms on the young woman.
* * *
That evening, Jake sat on the edge of the cot that would remain empty tonight while Boom and Molly sat at the table. They ate a potato and beef stew, along with more thin biscuits that Molly had prepared.
“Why are you called Boom?” Molly asked. “Is that your real name?”
“Nope. It’s Boris Utkin.”
“Did you come all the way from Russia?” she asked, an awestruck look on her face.
Jake was about to mention that he’d been to Russia but instead shoved another spoonful of food into his mouth.
Boom nodded. “I did. It was some years ago. I’m from a town called Kislovodsk, at the base of the mighty Mt. Elbrus, a place not much different than here. I struck out to America to find my fortune.”
“And have you found that fortune?” Molly inquired.
Boom gave a hearty laugh. “Some, but I can always use more. I’d like to take a wife soon—”
Jake coughed loudly and stood, reaching for another biscuit from the table.
“Are you all right?” Molly pinned her gaze on Jake, concern etching her face, and her blue-green eyes watching him like deep pools of jade.
He pounded a fist on his chest twice. “I’m good.”
She turned her attention back to the Russian who, unbeknownst to her, was attempting to woo her. “Do you have a woman you fancy?”
“It’s funny you should ask—”
Jake dropped his tin cup. The crash startled everyone and sent coffee across the floor.
Molly jumped up and grabbed a rag then knelt before him to clean the mess. He retrieved his cup, bumping into her shoulder as he did.
She glanced up at him. “I hope you’re not becoming ill.”
“Just clumsy,” he muttered and shrugged.
“If someone asked me to describe you, that wouldn’t be it.” Her eyes caught his and for a moment he held her gaze, warmed by the compliment she seemed to be paying him. Confusion played across her face and she broke the contact. She stood and set the rag on the kitchen counter then returned to her meal. “You never told me how you got the nickname ‘Boom’,” she said to Boris.
He chuckled and scratched his chin. “Well, I’m very handy with dynamite.” His eyes flashed as his hands mimicked an explosion. “Ka-boom.”
Molly tensed. “That sounds dangerous. Does Robert use a lot of dynamite?”
“Nah,” Jake cut in. “Hardly at all.” It wasn’t entirely true, but there was no reason to needlessly worry her. “We can find a lot of claims by digging and picking.”
She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Why are you called The Jackal?” she asked.
“He looks like one, don’t he?” Boom said, slapping Jake on the shoulder.
“Thanks.” Jake ran his spoon around his bowl to scoop up a few potato pieces stuck to the side. He swallowed the last of his meal and wiped the back of his hand across his face in case he’d been sloppy. For some reason, Molly Rose Simms rattled him.
“I was in a caravan heading out of Marrakech and into the Sahara,” he said.
“Where’s Marrakech?” Molly asked, interest sparkling in her eyes.
“Morocco,” he replied then added, “North Africa.”
Her face registered recognition.
“We had just come through the High Atlas Mountains when a sandstorm hit. Somehow, in the confusion, I got separated from everyone. When the dust finally cleared, I was on my own.”
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I headed in the wrong direction, and the search party couldn’t find me. In the end, I was on my own for over a fortnight.”
“How did you survive?”
“The jackals. There was a band I came across, and I started shadowing them. I managed to occasionally steal some of their kills, and they knew where water could be found. By the time the caravan found me, the other men claimed I’d become one of the critters.”
“The animals accepted you?”
“I wouldn’t quite phrase it that way. They’d come to tolerate me.”
“So you’re a tolerable jackal,” she teased.
“Most of the time,” he murmured, enjoying the look of bemusement in her sea-green eyes.
“What’s Morocco like?”
“Old villages filled with locals—they’re called Berbers. There’s a lot of date trees and the unbelievable aroma of rose plantations.”
“What do they like to eat?”
“There’s an old Berber dish called a tajine that I frequently ate—lamb cooked in a shallow earth pot flavored with spices.”
“Sounds delicious. What’s it like for a woman there?”
“They remain covered from head to toe for religious reasons. Women can’t do anything on their own. Their father controls their life until they marry, then their husband has control over them.”
Molly frowned. “They have no say over their lives?”
“No. It’s very different than it is for women here.”
“We still don’t have the right to vote, except in
Wyoming, and I don’t know many women who’d want to go there.”
“Why would a woman want to vote?” Boom asked. “Seems like a waste of time.”
Jake glanced at Molly and noticed the change in her posture along with the strain that had settled in the room.
“We do have opinions, Mister Utkin,” she said simply and quietly, “and contrary to what some men might believe, we also have brains in our heads.”
Boom laughed again. “Oh, don’t mind me. I like smart ladies.”
She appeared to relax, but not entirely.
Jake couldn’t help but hope that Boom had officially lost any headway in trying to court Miss Simms. And that made him very happy indeed.
“We best turn in,” Jake said.
Molly stood and gathered the dishes. Jake stacked the plates and carried them to the counter.
“I can bring you a bucket of water,” he offered.
“Thank you.” She bustled around him. “I’ll heat a bit on the stove and get this all cleaned up.”
“Thank you for supper, Miss Simms,” Boom said.
“You’re welcome.” Molly gave a curt nod.
“I’ll see to the horses.” Boom left the cabin.
“Will you be fine in here alone?” Jake asked.
“Of course.” She pushed the dirty dishes into a pile on the counter.
He went outside to the pump and filled the bucket then brought it inside.
Molly was wiping the table when he entered.
“Do you need any help?” Jake asked.
“No.” She paused, hands on hips, her breath a bit ragged. “Just to be clear—I won’t be a burden. I can cook and clean, and even sew if need be. I can also tend a horse and shoot a gun as well as any man. I don’t expect to be coddled.”
Jake suppressed a smile. “I understand. No coddling. Your beau is a very fortunate man.”
“I have no sweetheart.” She straightened her arms then bent them again, hands back on hips, shifting from foot to foot. “Well, then.” She nodded to emphasize her words. “I’ll see you and Boom in the morning.”
The Bluebird Page 4