Bounty Hunter

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Nona,” he called softly so as not to startle her.

  It appeared her troubled mind had distracted her from everything. The only thing that moved was her mouth when she said, “Bonjour, my love.”

  Her voice was so soothing and lush. Never in his entire life had he not been in love with this woman. They had grown up together as friends, and later become lovers, and eventually husband and wife.

  He sat down next to her. He didn’t need to ask what troubled her. As a father, he already knew.

  Those bright green eyes of hers traveled over his face. “You resemble him so much,” she remarked quietly.

  His chest tightened. Joaquin had favored him in appearance, and when Jasper had been reunited with Joaquin as an adult years later, he’d had found the likeness between them uncanny. With Joaquin’s passing, Nona and Pierce had difficulty looking at Jasper. It hurt him to see the grief on their faces. This was the first time since the loss of their elder son that his wife had truly looked at him again.

  “He had a good heart, that son of ours,” he said.

  “He did,” she agreed. “What a shame we only had him in our lives for such a short time.”

  “Aye, life can be cruel, but it also brings blessings,” he said, working to remind her. “We have our first grandchild coming.”

  “Not our first, Jasper,” she argued in a hard tone. “Joaquin has a child—with that witch!”

  How forgetful of him. At Joaquin’s wake, Grandmother Fey told them about Freya Bates, the orphaned girl they had found in the forest. She had given birth to Joaquin’s child, a girl named Vela who was now twelve.

  “Aye, right. But at least this grandchild will be with us and be ours to help raise under our protection.”

  “Which is good, for our grandchild may not have a father,” Nona said. “Oh, Jasper, why does this woman want our children dead?”

  Jasper shuddered. He didn’t know why. No one knew, not even Grandmother Fey. The best anyone could guess was that Freya had planned this for years before joining up with the Gypsy troupe. Grandmother Fey suspected she had lived a former life and had returned for some kind of purpose that involved their family.

  “I’m not sure, darling. Perhaps now that we’re thousands of miles away, her ability to do us harm has dwindled.”

  Nona’s worried expression softened. He was steadily bringing her comfort by offering her what gave him peace.

  “We lost a son, but we have another. We have a grandchild on the way. These are things we never thought would happen, remember?”

  Nona choked out a curt laugh. Her eyes glassed over with joyful tears. For many years after losing their sons after being unexpectedly run out of Abney Park in London, Jasper and Nona were unable to locate them. They had snuck into the park and cemetery, searching, and had stayed for days in the city, but they were unable to find their children. As time passed, they’d lost hope of ever seeing them again even as stories about Joaquin and Pierce surfaced through word of mouth and in the papers. They had learned by then that they were alive but had become criminals. Still, it greatly lifted Jasper and Nona’s hopes that they might someday be reunited. And for a very brief time, all of them were.

  “You’re right, my love,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “We are blessed.”

  He smiled at his wife’s serenity. Then he frowned.

  Now, if only Pierce can get himself out of the mess he’s currently in.

  * * *

  After having that unholy sack of trash, Sheriff Flores, grace them with addresses, Emma and the others left the jailhouse and went out to have supper. They found a quaint little restaurant that served simple Mexican dishes. The ice water, hot black beans, and beef soup seemed to lift Pierce’s mood, but he still seemed anxious.

  She watched him eat his soup while thumbing at his wedding band, slowly turning it round and round on his finger. A hard lump in her stomach told her he wanted to return to that wife of his. She hated that he was already taken. She was certain if Pierce wasn’t married, he’d be hers in a heartbeat. Most men didn’t care about intellectual women. They didn’t approve of women going into what they considered “a man’s field.” Pierce was the opposite of these negative views about the fairer sex. He appeared more intrigued, even enchanted, by strong women who had more to offer than a pretty face to look at. God, how Emma wanted him!

  “So, what’s the plan, fearless leader?” Jaxton asked, chewing on his goat chili.

  Pierce raised his head. “Eh? Plan? Aye, erm, s’pose we split up and search the shops simultaneously.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Itza-chu offered before Emma had the chance to.

  Pierce considered him a moment, possibly wondering if it was wise to let her and Jaxton—the inexperienced hunters—strike out on their own. Emma hoped he’d find it too dangerous and suggest she go with him, instead.

  “You two think you can handle it if you find the lass?” he asked them both.

  The Australian shrugged. “That bloke, Harvey was easy enough. I think Emma and I can manage.”

  “Good,” Pierce said abruptly as if he wanted to return to his own thoughts. “You two go to Bucólico. Me and Itza-chu will check the other. Chances are slim she’ll be in either store but question the workers and ask if anyone has seen her.”

  Emma felt a little hurt at his callous attitude about not having her with him. She thought about trying to change his mind by “accidently” sliding her foot over his shin but decided against it. Besides, they probably had days together in their search for the other bank robbers. She had time.

  “If you do find Nata,” Pierce told her and Jaxton, “take her into custody, if possible. If you’re not sure about it, come fetch Itza-chu and myself.”

  Jaxton waved his hand in a slightly flamboyant fashion. She’d suspected he had a taste for men from the moment she had spoken to Leonardo in the square. If she had ever seen a dainty, it was Leonardo. The way he’d wept when she informed him that Jaxton was being taken to jail—it was like a wife mourning over her husband heading off to war. Emma also noticed certain little mannerisms from Jaxton. How he walked, for instance. It was a cross between a sashay and a ruffian strut. Whenever he looked at her, it was as though he was admiring a work of art. He didn’t employ the tiresome lustful leers that most men did. Granted, not every woman-loving man fancied her, but it was unusual how Jaxton’s eyes moved over her.

  Then again, Emma could be wrong about him altogether. After all, she hadn’t caught him giving Pierce any alluring glances—or even Itza-chu, for that matter. Perhaps he just knew how to hide it.

  “As I said, mate,” Jaxton reminded Pierce. “Emma and I can hold our own.”

  That seemed to put Pierce more at ease. He grinned at him and sipped at his soup.

  After they ate, Pierce gave Jaxton one pair of handcuffs and the posse split up and headed to opposite sides of the city. For a long while, Emma and Jaxton rode side by side in complete silence. Without Pierce around—a man who liked to strike up conversation—it was difficult to think up something to talk about.

  “So, you sell snake oil?” she said, unable to withstand the quiet any longer.

  “Aye. Up and down the western coast. Are you in need of any remedy?”

  She arched a suspicious eyebrow at him.

  “Heard it’s rort, eh? Aye, it’s true enough. Snake oil is nothing but mineral oil, red peppers, and my own extra food coloring.”

  “No snake venom in it at all?”

  “Yeah. Just not the correct species of snake.”

  She tilted her head sideways. “Really?”

  “You speak English rather well,” he abruptly said. “Where are you from?”

  Emma surmised he was trying to venture off the subject of his bogus product, which, sadly, was his livelihood.

  “Tampico, originally. My partner, Gabriela, and I both come from there. We’ve been traveling abroad since our adolescences. I have to say, though, you are the first Australian I’ve met
.”

  “The descendants of those who were brought over as prisoners are beginning to migrate. It won’t be long before hundreds, if not thousands, of us Aussies arrive on these shores.”

  “Do you miss home?”

  “I hadn’t lived there long enough to miss anything about it,” he said. “We came over on the longest bloody voyage that anyone could ever make when I was only an ankle-biter. Mexico is pretty much the same as living in Australia, regarding the desert terrain. I’m well adapted to the harsh climate, unlike some gringos we know.”

  Emma snorted. “You’re talking about Pierce? Poor man. He was completely roasted!”

  A rush of longing rose in her loins when she thought about rubbing oil over Pierce. Despite how beaming red it was, his skin was smooth and firm, his back perfectly shaped, with a lovely, narrow waistline. Emma could have spent hours rubbing him, if that dirt pile, Harvey, hadn’t opened his ugly, crooked mouth.

  Jaxton noticed her daydreaming and gave her a suspicious look. “Fancy him, do you?”

  The heat of passion quickly turned into that heat of embarrassment burning her face. She veered her head away, the gears and sprockets tied into her hair clanking together as she did.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ah, you do, pretty Sheila. The way you pounced into action to . . . I daresay, put your hands on him this morning? I—”

  “You wanted to do it, too!” Emma suddenly said.

  His complexion paled so quickly it was as if his very soul had left his body. Emma regretted her words. Her temper, stoked by his taunting, had prompted her to lash out.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  There was a lamentable moment of silence before he said, “Bugger me. Am I that obvious?”

  She steered her head back over to him. “Pardon?”

  He looked at her wearily. Sweat slid down from under his stovepipe hat, and his yellow hair stuck to his face. The day was growing hotter.

  “I’m afraid I’ll end up murdered if I ain’t more careful.”

  Emma’s heart grieved for him. To be hated and misunderstood simply for being who he was, with the threat of death looming over him should he be discovered, must’ve been a frightful burden to carry.

  “It isn’t anything you’ve done, really,” she tried to console him. “I first got an inkling when I spoke to Leonardo.”

  He understood immediately. “Oh. Leo. Aye, he tends to let his ‘softer’ side out more often than he should. By nature, I ain’t as dainty as he, but I do risk a lot, just being around him.” The corners of his mouth curled up. “It’s worth it, though. He’s an excellent cook.”

  The fondness with which he spoke about his lover made her yearn.

  “And by the by,” he added, “I do not fancy Pierce. He’s aaaall yours.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Believe it or not, no. Yes, he is charming, in his own way, and I’ll admit, lovely to look at, but he’s also as straight as a plank, and that’s a quality I don’t need in a man. I’m his friend, and that’s all I aim to be with the likes of him.”

  Ever since falling headfirst into the inviting, yet terrifying, pool of love, Emma felt she could finally talk to someone about her feelings.

  “I want him to be my husband,” she stated bluntly. “Do you think I could persuade him to leave his wife for me?”

  Jaxton seemed shocked by her confession. He quickly recovered and looked her up and down in that same complimentary fashion.

  “I haven’t met his wife, but, judging from what I’m looking at, you stand a good chance, pretty Sheila.”

  Emma blushed and smiled. “We both have our secrets, I suppose.”

  Jaxton laughed. “Bloody hell, who on Earth doesn’t?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Fight

  “It’s ready?” Nata excitedly asked the store clerk.

  The man, who had assisted her days ago, presented a large rectangular box. He lifted the lid.

  “Si, senorita. Our tailor did his last stitch this morning. I even checked the measurements myself to make certain they were accurate.”

  Nata gazed lovingly at the blue gown. She envisioned herself in Times Square, New York, turning the heads of all the gentlemen and their jealous wives. With a dress as gorgeous as this, she could land herself a rich husband who would take her to plays in the Theater District, dine at the finest restaurants, and dote on her endlessly.

  “Would you care to try it on?” the clerk offered.

  “I would, indeed,” Nata said.

  * * *

  “Do you think we’ll find the woman here?” Itza-chu asked Pierce as they neared the clothing store.

  “Dunno, lad,” he answered delicately. He didn’t want to jinx their chances. He hoped they would, but he doubted it. “If she isn’t here, or hasn’t been seen, we’ll hoof it over to Bucólico.”

  Itza-chu gawked at him. “You remember the address?”

  “I’ve a fairly good memory. It runs in my family.” He kicked his horse into a trot. “C’mon, let’s hurry this along. I’m not sure splitting up was my best idea.”

  “You don’t think Jaxton and Emma can hold their own if they encounter her?”

  “It’s not that. I just have a bad feeling, is all.”

  “Do strong intuitions run in your family as well?”

  Pierce snorted. “I inherited that from my mum. Motherly instincts and all. Regardless, I should’ve let you go with them.”

  Despite Emma’s worldly experience and Jaxton’s flawless handling of Harvey, Pierce didn’t have loads of confidence in them to be able to actually seize a person.

  “They’ll be fine, Landcross,” Itza-chu said. “Besides, Waves of Strength warned me not to let you out of my sight. She said you get yourself into too much trouble when you’re alone.”

  Pierce couldn’t argue with that.

  “Aye. S’pose I do.”

  “And,” Itza-chu added as they halted their horses in front of the building and dismounted, “as you pointed out, Nata most likely won’t even be at the shop at the same time as any of us.”

  Pierce found little solace in his own reminder. Even so, what he wouldn’t give to find Nata inside this store.

  The tiny bell above the door announced their presence. The scented oils burning in bowls was a romantic scent. Dummies stood here and there, wearing the latest day and evening gowns. Pierce was surprised to find none of Tilly Lincoln’s designs. Perhaps in a few years, her work would reach across oceans.

  They hadn’t gone far when a husky Hispanic woman in a stylish day gown started yelling at them.

  “What the bloody hell is she fussing about?” Pierce asked, taken aback by her aggressive reaction.

  Itza-chu’s face burned red as he listened to her.

  “She doesn’t want prairie trash like me inside her store,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Pierce watched as the busty bitch marched out from behind the counter and began shooing them back toward the door.

  “We should leave,” Itza-chu suggested.

  Pierce refused to retreat. Instead, he stepped toward her and said with hands raised, “Oi, oi, now! Shut it, you.”

  She stopped coming toward them, but when she kept shouting, he raised his voice.

  “Hey! I said stow it, you slag! Shut your bleedin’ trap a moment!”

  His strong, loud voice made her shut up. Pierce assumed he could say pretty much anything to her and she wouldn’t understand a word of it. The tone, however, was unmistakable.

  “Right,” he huffed. To Itza-chu, he ordered, “Ask her if she’s seen an Indian woman come in here lately.”

  Itza-chu was a true gem. Instead of just backing out in anger, he sucked it up and began speaking to the twat. As he questioned her, she gasped with a spiteful expression as if appalled that he was even talking to her directly. Pierce was ready to yell at her again when she said somet
hing. Her tone was vicious. It prompted Itza-chu to holler at her in the same harsh dialect. Pierce was only grateful the shop was empty of customers.

  Her hardened expression stayed fixed on him, yet her eyes revealed an anxiousness at having this meeting over with, even if she needed to cooperate with the native man. She replied in a surprisingly civil manner.

  “She says yes,” Itza-chu told Pierce. “A young woman came in a few days ago. To no one’s amazement, this woman ordered her to leave.”

  “Did she recommend a place that she could go?”

  Itza-chu asked, but Pierce held little hope for a useful answer. Still, Itza-chu’s eyes widened when she answered.

  “What?” Pierce demanded. “What did she say?”

  “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “She sent her to the Bucólico store, didn’t she?”

  He nodded. “Afraid so.”

  Pierce huffed. “Fine. Let’s hurry on over there, eh?”

  * * *

  “Here we are,” Jaxton announced as he and Emma arrived at the Bucólico specialty store. He crammed the paper with the address on it inside his trouser pocket. “Let’s get to it, eh?”

  The classy establishment with its ceramic figurines, crisp wallpaper, and brightly colored gowns and dresses made Emma feel out of place.

  Unlike the fancy women in the store, shopping with their servants in tow, Emma was waltzing around in her regular attire of slacks and sleeveless bodice blouse. She hadn’t had any time to freshen up since returning from San Carlos. She definitely looked like one of the boys.

  The voices of a man and a woman sounded from the back, causing Emma to stop dead in her tracks after rounding a long clothing rack. Standing in front of three standing mirrors—two turned inward at a certain angle so as to capture a person’s side reflection—was an Indian woman dressed in a blue satin dress adorned with black bows. Emma assumed the man with her was the sales clerk.