If the Chigger panned out…damn, it could possibly be the find of a century. He and Robert would need Henry’s help if they did indeed come to own the Bluebird.
Correction, he and Molly would need assistance. The legalities of the situation could be simple or complicated, depending on how it all played out.
Jake guided his horse beside the Patterson’s carriage as the road wound out of town. At the base of the mountains sat Lannigan’s Ranch, Shepherd’s Pass.
As blue sky melted into gray, Jake tugged his jacket tight to ward off the chill. A line of guests amassed along the road to the main house, a collection of carriages, buckboards, and riders atop horses, everyone dressed in their finest attire. Lannigan was known to throw extravagant and well-attended parties.
Jake had only ever been to one gathering, near the end of last year following the sale of the Lucky Dog. That had put him and Robert on the map as players in Creede’s prospecting game. Back then, Bridget Lannigan had been a big flirt, and for one brief, crazed evening, Jake had found himself the object of her attention. She was certainly pretty, and nicely rounded in all the right places, but he still praised whatever god took residence up high that he hadn’t done something stupid. She was cut from the same cloth as her father, and a man needed to stay a mile away from it.
He’d tried to tell Robert.
It hadn’t worked.
Jake brought Fernando near the house entrance and dismounted. A young man took the horse, along with another mount, and led the animals toward the stables. Jake recognized several gentleman and nodded while he made his way to the Patterson’s carriage. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said he planned to stick close to Esme.
Lannigan would throw him out if given the chance, but Jake was counting on the fact that the man wouldn’t dare upset the party or any of the female guests.
Jake gently grasped Henry’s elbow as the elderly man stepped down the carriage steps.
Henry shook his head and pushed Jake’s hand away. “I’m not an invalid.”
“I just want to make sure you’re out of Esme’s way.” Jake held a hand out to Esmeralda Patterson.
“My knight in shining armor.” She let him help her to the ground.
“Always, Esme,” Jake replied and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Henry moved away from them and shook another man’s hand. “John, it’s good to see you.” He was soon lost in discussion with several gentlemen.
Jake guided Esme to the steps leading to the porch, slowing his steps to keep pace with Esme’s much shorter stride.
“We’ve only just arrived, and he’s already doing business,” Esme lamented.
“It’s all for you, Esme.”
“I know. I’m a mighty lucky lady. You don’t have to tell me.”
“He’s mighty lucky to have you, as well.”
Esme smirked. “I do tell him so every day.”
“I’m sure he appreciates that.”
Jake removed his hat as he and Esme entered the crowded parlor. Shep Lannigan immediately honed in on him. Jake held the man’s gaze, challenging him. Shep finally turned away.
Several people greeted Esme. While her attention was diverted, Jake scanned for any sign of Molly or Robert or even Bridget, but didn’t see them.
He received several curt nods from guests milling past him, who were no doubt surprised to see him in attendance. The issue with the Shanghai and Mystery Box claims was no secret.
Esme’s popularity soon had several ladies guiding her away from Jake, freeing him to roam. He deposited his hat on a side table then slipped from the parlor and headed to the dining room, where an array of food was laid out for the guests to help themselves.
A mouthwatering feast of glazed ham, veal cutlets, steak, and pork tenderloins occupied one half of the table, while corned beef hash, boiled potatoes, and various other vegetables presented a colorful counterpoint on the opposite side. Jake grabbed a fish cake and popped it into his mouth.
He savored the flavor, silently acknowledging that Lannigan had one hell of a cook, and turned to explore a crowd of people in another room.
Shep stepped in front of him “What the hell are you doing here?” He leveled a lethal gaze at Jake, his voice low.
“I’m with the Patterson’s. They were gracious enough to let me tag along. I’m guessing my invitation was lost in the mail.”
“I’ll tell Stella to lock up the valuables.”
Jake smiled, a mocking action meant to goad Lannigan, then he dropped the façade and pinned Shep with a cold stare. “Don’t ever send Winston after me again.”
Lannigan’s dark eyes never flinched. “Someday your luck will run out, McKenna, and there won’t be anyone to help you. I won’t throw you out because Esme Patterson is a nice old lady, and for some reason she likes you, but I’ve never made that mistake.”
“I’m crushed. I always thought we were friends.”
A rotund man Jake didn’t recognize clapped Lannigan on the shoulder. “Where the hell is all the bourbon, Shep?”
As Lannigan became engulfed once again by his guests, Jake came face to face with James Winston.
“That’s quite a bruise on your nose.” Jake didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“Go to hell.” Winston’s red hair was combed back, and he was dressed as fine as any of the men present, but Jake knew full well he carried an iron somewhere on him.
Jake had his trusty knife tucked away, just in case.
Robert appeared from the throng of guests.
“There seems to be a lot of riffraff at this party,” Winston said. “I could smell it a mile away.”
“You know, James,” Robert remarked, looking a sight better than when Jake had seen him yesterday, “I think you owe me a horse.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t stay upright when you’re in the hills.”
Robert settled an icy gaze on the man. “Yeah, thanks for your assistance.”
“I just assumed you sneaked off to prospect on your own. I’m not your keeper.”
“You’re not Bridget’s, either.”
A cocky smile appeared on Winston’s face. “I think that’s up to her.”
Winston wanted Bridget? Damn, that girl was popular. Jake hoped Robert didn’t do something stupid for her sake.
Robert uttered a colorful phrase under his breath, nodded at Jake, then moved across the room to Bridget’s side. Her ivory dress stood out like a beacon. Jake suspected she intended it to.
“I think you owe me five thousand dollars, James,” Jake said.
“Is that so?” Winston watched him with a cocky gleam in his eyes. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll write you an IOU.”
“And I’ll take it straight to the bank,” Jake mocked.
Winston pushed aside his jacket just enough so that Jake caught sight of the gun tucked in a side holster, then he walked away and grabbed a snifter from a side table, downing it in one swallow.
Jake grimaced. He should’ve let Pedro shoot the asshole when they’d had the chance.
As Jake contemplated getting a good stiff drink himself, he glanced to the staircase and froze.
Molly descended slowly, her eyes cast downward as she lifted the front of the ornate gown she wore. The dark blue material showcased a figure her clothes had only hinted at before, and her hair swept away from her face into an array of curls that made Jake itch to bury his fingers into the tresses. Her bosom peeked enticingly from the ruffled edge of the gown, the creamy hue of her skin reminding him of a full moon in the warm embrace of a starless night.
His legs carried him closer to the bottom step as his eyes remained fixed on her, his heart racing. He hadn’t been this nervous around a woman since…well, ever.
He’d lost his virginity at age sixteen with an experienced madam in Casablanca, and from that moment on, women had been a pleasant diversion, nothing more.
Molly glanced up, startled by his presence, then an elated smile spread a
cross her face. She hurried toward him but tripped on the gown and flew into his arms.
Jake caught her just in time before she hit the floor. “Too much sherry?” He gently eased her to her feet, holding her a tad longer than appropriate.
With a flushed face, she stepped back from his support and laughed, smoothing her hands down the gown. Her gaze swept around them and she cleared her throat, then she looked at him. “This dress is too long,” she whispered. Then she gushed, “I’m very happy to see you.”
Her enthusiasm jolted right through him, and his mind went blank as he basked under her attention. It was far more potent than he’d recalled, and he’d been doing nothing but recalling everything about her since they’d parted ways…her eyes that shifted from sea-green to the deepest azure depending on the light, her heart-shaped face, her stubborn tenacity in standing up to Lannigan, and her obvious deep love for Robert. He’d even missed her sarcastic wit. She’d been on his mind almost nonstop.
“I’m glad you didn’t forget me,” he murmured.
“I’ve been worried ever since I left you and Pedro…I didn’t think I’d see you tonight. Does Lannigan know you’re here?”
Jake recovered himself. “He does. It’ll be fine. I doubt he’ll make a scene—there are too many witnesses.”
Molly tugged at the bodice of the gown, then at the tiny sleeves.
“Stop fidgeting,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
“I do?”
Bridget strode up to them. “Mister McKenna, Papa didn’t tell me you were here. Have you been introduced to Robert’s sister?”
“Yes, we’re acquainted.”
Bridget snagged Molly’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. Subtlety wasn’t Bridget’s strong suit.
“Splendid,” Bridget said. “Molly is visiting from Arizona.”
“I know.”
Bridget’s nose crinkled in frustration. “Then you won’t mind if I borrow her so that she has the opportunity to meet some of our other guests.”
Bridget hooked an arm into Molly’s and dragged her away but not before Molly cast a glance over her shoulder. Jake wanted to think it was filled with longing from having to leave his company, but he suspected she just wanted to escape Bridget.
He exhaled his disappointment over the brevity of the encounter and tried not to gawk at her retreating backside.
He needed a whiskey.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Ten
“You live in the desert?”
Molly nodded. She was trapped in a huddle of women, all curious about the Arizona Territory.
“Is it as wild as they say?”
“Who says it’s wild?” Molly asked in return.
“Why, the papers do,” said a woman in a brown dress that matched her brown hair although it was streaked with gray. “They say it’s still quite lawless down there.”
Molly sipped at her glass of sherry, the liquid robust and fruity, uncertain what the woman wanted her to say. By all accounts, Creede was a more dangerous place to live than Tucson. She swung her gaze to the side and nearly choked on the wine. Jake stood across the room talking to two other men, but his eyes met hers, and his bemused expression sent a thunderbolt right through her.
She coughed to hide her stunned response, swaying slightly from a wave of dizziness; it dawned on her that she may have drunk too much. Ladies didn’t usually imbibe in public, but the well-heeled guests at Lannigan’s party had seemed to relax that standard. At eighteen years old, it was the first time Molly had been treated as a full-fledged adult.
She rather liked it.
“Molly dear, do you have a sweetheart back in Tucson?” a nice woman named Beatrice Perkins asked her.
“No.”
“Well, I hope you’ll let me introduce you to my son, Carl. You’re so pretty and sweet. I just know he’d fancy you.”
“Oh no, not Carl,” said Esme Patterson, shaking her head.
Of all the ladies she’d conversed with, Molly liked Mrs. Patterson the most. And now, even more so.
“I disagree, Esme.” Beatrice shook her head. “Carl will make a fine husband. I would love for Miss Simms to meet him.” She swung her gaze to Molly. “I could invite you to tea. How about next Tuesday?”
“I’ve already made prior arrangements with Miss Simms for Tuesday.” Esme winked at her, and Molly suppressed a smile. “And I have it on good authority that there is already a suitor in the picture,” Esme added.
Shocked, Molly stared at the elderly woman.
Beatrice looked at Molly, her eyes bright and inquisitive. “Who?”
Molly had no idea what to say and glanced at the group of women now watching her with avid curiosity. Too late she realized her mouth was agape.
“Jacob McKenna,” Esme said.
The women all shifted uncomfortably.
Molly frowned. Why would Mrs. Patterson say such a thing? She’d told no one about the kiss in the tunnel. Had Jake shared it with her?
It had become clear earlier during the conversation that Esme Patterson had a fondness for Jake and spoke highly of him. One of the few, Molly had noticed.
Unsure what to say, Molly blurted, “I’ll only be in town a short time.” The squeak in her voice annoyed her. “I don’t really think it would be wise to create any unnecessary attachments.” Even with McKenna, although her heart rebelled at that thought.
“Just a word of advice,” Beatrice said, her voice lowering. “Jake McKenna is a scoundrel. I’ve heard rumors that the man doesn’t abide by the law. You’d do well to steer clear of him. But my Carl, he’s as true and loyal as they come. He’d make a fine husband. You two might suit,” she pressed. “You never know.”
“Pshaw.” Esme waved a hand for emphasis. “You said it yourself, Bea. The talk about Jake is just that—rumors—and those are often couched in fabrications.” Esme focused on Molly. “The law in these parts is questionable at times. Jake McKenna is a good man. You can mark my word on it.”
Molly paused, unsure how to respond. Finally, she plastered her most sincere smile upon her face and lifted the glass of sherry to her mouth, dismayed to see that it was empty. “I think I could use a bit of fresh air. If you’ll excuse me.”
She stepped away before any of the women could stop her, and then made her way to the kitchen. As she passed a young worker carrying a tray filled with goblets of a red liquid, Molly snatched one and kept walking, her goal a quiet niche on the back porch where she could be alone.
She slipped out the rear entrance and found a spot between two posts, an opening that would easily seat two people, but her puffy gown consumed the extra space.
With her legs dangling over the edge of the narrow porch, she shivered, wishing she had a wrap, but getting one would mean returning to the party, and, for now, she didn’t want to. She watched the crowd of horses in the corral beyond, milling about, antsy and releasing agitated snorts and neighs. Clearly, tensions were high from all the new and unfamiliar animals stuck in one place together.
I understand.
Who would want to be cooped up with creatures you didn’t know nor particularly desired to know?
She sipped her drink—the flavor signaling that she had grabbed a different wine this time. She took another taste.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Molly jumped at the sound of Jake’s voice, holding the goblet away from her gown so the fluid didn’t spill. “A little.”
He strode toward her, removed his jacket, then placed it onto her shoulders.
Immediately she was engulfed in McKenna’s smell—musky and wild and distinctive. “Thank you.” A wave of longing swept through her, primal and fierce. It was as if she were a coyote who’d just caught the scent of her mate…or a jackal.
He sat beside her although the post holding the railing divided them. His white shirt all but glowed in the dark night that embraced them. He loosened his tie and undid the top button.
Molly watched from the corner
of her eye, trying not to stare.
How could she even consider some boy named Carl when she’d already met a man like Jake?
She took another gulp of wine and stared straight ahead. Had Esme spoken the truth? Was Jake courting her?
“Go easy,” Jake said, his voice a caress in the night air.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
She considered his advice then stared at the corral. “Did you tell Esme Patterson that you kissed me?”
“No. Is she spreading rumors?”
His voice sounded amused, which emboldened Molly to move forward. Or was it the alcohol? “There seems to be talk that you…and I…that we…”
She glanced at him, and his tenacious gaze caught her attention. She couldn’t look away.
“That we what?” His voice, deep and hypnotic, washed over her like a warm rainstorm.
She shook her head, suddenly bashful. “Never mind.” She was being silly. Jake McKenna wasn’t courting her. She needed to remember his reputation. Swallowing another sip of wine, she forged ahead. “You apparently have the distinction of being a scamp around these parts. I was cautioned to avoid you, by more than one woman, I should add.”
“I’m a what? A scamp? That’s a new one.” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “What do you think, Molly Rose?”
“I don’t think anything. I don’t know you.”
“Don’t you?”
Confused, she reiterated, “No, I don’t. Isn’t that what I just said?” Her muddled thoughts swirled in her head. Damn the wine.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know.”
“I’m not.”
He grinned. “I spent some time in Istanbul, and while I was there, I studied a poet and philosopher named Rumi. He was a great observer of life, of how important the smallest thing can be. What you seek is seeking you.”
She watched him, perplexed.
“Maybe we’ve been searching for each other,” he added.
She laughed, but it was more of a snort. Embarrassed, she straightened, trying to sound indifferent as she asked, “Is this how you sweet-talk women?”
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