by Linda Broday
Duel had trouble believing that a bunch of limp wildflowers that brought fits of sneezing numbered at the top of Jessie’s list of best gifts. He had trouble, too, with the sparkling jewels her blue eyes had become. The forced swallow wasn’t from the big bite of stew he’d taken.
“I saw Yellow Dog come up to Marley Rose today.” Changing the subject might help the situation.
“I wasn’t sure what the dog was up to, but I knew he’d not harm Marley.” Jessie put the bouquet back on the table out of his long reach.
“Wish I’d shared your faith. Nearly gave Pop and me a heart attack.”
“You worry too much, Duel. Where’s your trust?”
“Right here.” He covered her hand with his and could barely contain his joy when she gave him a brilliant smile.
Patience, he reminded himself, encouraged by her actions. One bunch of posies did not a courtship make. Time to change tactics. Next time he’d make darn sure his gift wouldn’t cause any ill effects.
*
Saturday found Jessie in town for some shopping. Engrossed in perusing the array of piece goods, she scarcely heard the bell over the door of Tranquility’s only mercantile store. She moved on to a row of bonnets.
“Mrs. McClain, how nice to see you again.” Hampton Pierson made a beeline for her.
Jessie groaned inwardly and replaced on the shelf the lace and flowered bonnet she’d been admiring. Her pleasant day in town had just turned gloomy. So much for the leisurely shopping she and Duel had indulged in after leaving Marley Rose at the Austin house to play with her cousins.
“Afternoon, Mr. Pierson.” She searched the store for her husband. Last time she saw him he’d been haggling with Mr. Dexter over the price of cartridges for his gun.
Hampton leaned against a counter cluttered with jars of pickles, licorice, and gumdrops. “That divine creation would look mighty handsome on you, ma’am. Perfect match for your lovely eyes.”
“I’m merely passing time while waiting for my husband.” She prayed he’d leave before Duel saw him. Funny that she’d not noticed the night of Vicky’s party how the man waved his conceited good looks under her nose. “It’s much too expensive, and besides, I’ve no place to wear a bonnet that fancy.”
“I’d be honored to purchase it for you, Jessie. Consider it a token of my—”
“Consider this, you womanizer.” Duel stepped from behind a stack of wool blankets and slammed his fist into Hampton’s jaw, catapulting the man to the floor.
“Duel!” Horrified, Jessie pressed her hand to her mouth.
“The lady’s my wife, Pierson.” He drew back again, aiming to take another swing, but Jessie caught his arm.
“Please, Duel.”
“It’ll pay you to remember that.”
“I do declare, McClain.”
Hampton rose to a sitting position and dabbed at his bloodied nose. She didn’t know how the man could be so calm.
He dusted the dirt from his impeccable white shirt, meeting Duel’s glare with bland humor.
“You misunderstand my intentions—”
“Your intentions are perfectly clear. Stay away from her if you know what’s good for you.”
Pure venom laced Duel’s warning. Despite the warm, sunny rays streaming through the smudged window, Jessie couldn’t prevent the shiver that raced through her.
I own you, Jessie. You’ll never be free of me. You wear the Diamond J brand now. Everyone will know you belong to me.
Jeremiah’s hate appeared without warning, accompanied by the putrid smell of seared flesh. Nausea rose up into her throat. Would the day ever come when she would no longer be considered a man’s property? Had she merely traded one intolerable situation for another?
The glare she sent Duel could have withered the most hardy fruit on the vine. Then she spun on her heels and hurried from the establishment.
“Jess?”
She paid no heed to his call. Nor did she stop when he fell into step beside her. They passed the wagon where Preacher eyed them and passed the church where they’d spoken their vows.
Finally, Duel took her arm. They stopped under the shade of an elm tree at the edge of town.
“Jess, I’d apologize if I knew what the hell I was apologizing for. What did I do now to get your dander up?”
With hands on her hips, she faced him.
“Duel McClain, get one thing clear. I am not anyone’s property—not yours, not Jeremiah’s—no one’s.” Her voice broke. “I wear one man’s brand for all eternity; I’ll not wear another’s.”
“Oh, Jess, that’s not what I’m about. Don’t you know by now I’d never do a thing to hurt you? Or let anyone else?”
“Not all brands are visible, but they’re burned on just the same.” When she needed a firm, loud voice to drive her point home, her voice betrayed her. The words came out in a raspy whisper.
Jessie didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms. Her face pressed against his broad chest, she marveled at the wild, furious beating of his heart. It was the kind of panic that came when a person was scared and running like the devil.
“I was only protecting you, Jess,” he murmured into her hair, “protecting you against the Jeremiahs and the Hampton Piersons of this world. Don’t you see?”
“Protecting is one thing. Obsessing is something else altogether.”
“I don’t want to own you. You’re not a slave. Sure, I told him you were my wife ’cause you are, and I’m not about to share you with any other man. I want you, all right?”
Her own heart began a frenzied drumbeat. Warm, safe, protected, she let her body melt against his strength.
“I thank the good Lord each morning that He saw fit to put two beautiful ladies in my care.” He lightly touched the curve of her back. “When I think of my life before…”
A shudder ran the length of his muscular form, reminding Jessie of how Yellow Dog felt that night she bound his wounds.
A beautiful lady? No one had ever made the mistake of using those words to describe her.
What makes you think you deserve a new dress? Jeremiah had pitched a shapeless sack at her when she’d asked him for a length of material to sew one. You think new clothes will make you pretty? Who put that idea in your head? Look at your hair, your scrawny frame. You’re ugly and don’t forget it. She never had. She never would.
The man had raised his fist and laughed when she cowered into a frightened ball. After that, she’d never asked her husband for another thing, merely dreamt of freedom.
Even though Duel looked at her sometimes like she was special. Even though he’d picked her wildflowers. And even though he’d just knocked a man on his backside, that didn’t put her in the “beautiful” category.
“Mr. Pierson’s a pest, I admit, and certainly preens like a peacock around town, but he’s harmless.” Jessie shifted her feet, and Duel released his hold, allowing her to draw away.
“The nerve of Pierson buying my wife a bonnet—or anything else, for that matter! But I did fly off the handle a little.” He had the grace to look sheepish.
“That’s calling a jackass a mule.” Jessie smiled, recalling the shocked expression on Hampton’s face when he saw Duel. She guessed he hadn’t heard her say she was waiting for her husband. “I could’ve dealt with the situation if you’d given me the chance.”
“Someone has to teach Pierson a little respect.”
His gruff tone hid a big heart.
“And that lot fell to you?”
“If need be.” He lifted a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “It has nothing to do with owning you. And I’m not doubting your ability to take care of Hampton.” He took a deep breath. “Certain obligations come with the marriage territory. Things such as duty and honor…and respecting your spouse.”
“Then it’s some chivalrous notion? Nothing remotely connected with men’s proprietary rights?” Why was her stomach turning somersaults, her breathing fast and heavy?
He leaned
close, never considering what his nearness did to her. Never realizing the turmoil he caused. She briefly wondered if his heart still raced as it had when she’d laid her head against it.
“Not even a smidgen.”
“Afternoon, Duel. Mrs. McClain.” Charlotte Brown strolled by, twirling a parasol above her head to block the sun’s rays, and smiling.
Duel smiled and tipped his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Brown.”
He waited until the nosy woman moved on. “The privilege of keeping you safe makes me feel special. Remember that day on the cliff?”
“How could I ever forget? I live with that moment.”
“I promised to not let anything happen to you. A McClain promise. By all that’s holy, I mean to keep my word.”
Charlie Maxfield, with Jane by his side, rode past. Both strained their eyes to see what was happening beneath the elm tree. A cloud of dust caused by their surrey covered Duel and Jessie.
“Damn! Word must already have spread. Looks like everyone in the county’s come to ogle us.” He waved his arms furiously to fan away the grit.
“Surely they can’t have heard about you and Hampton Pierson this fast?”
“You haven’t lived in Tranquility before.” When he bent his head, his lips brushed her ear, making tingles scamper down her neck.
He stood much too close. Jessie swayed. His arm lent support for her buckling legs. The naughty tingles reached her knees as his breath fluttered against her ear.
“But, sweetheart, never in a million years will I apologize for knocking Pierson on his rear.”
She felt feverish from the warmth of his nearness, the unexpected endearment, the amber lights dancing in his eyes, and his tender smile that smoothed the rough edges of his chiseled features. Not in this lifetime had she known a man like Duel McClain.
“Confound it, Jess. I just can’t think of you as my sister.”
Barely had the strangled declaration slipped from his lips when he dipped his head and captured her mouth with his.
Seventeen
The heady scent of shaving soap and bay rum swirled in the mild breeze. Added to the unexpected heat of Duel’s kiss, Jessie had to concentrate on her breathing to keep from swooning. The wild heaving of her breasts told her she came dangerously near to such a fate. In all her years she had never felt so weak and feverish.
Duel’s mouth, indeed every inch of the man, vibrated with life and sizzle.
A sense of decorum somewhere in the back of her head ranted that this behavior was inappropriate for broad daylight. Yet she didn’t want the kiss to end. When he released her and took a step back, the afternoon sky, the blades of tall saw grass swam around her. She clung to him for support while her skin continued to burn with a strange heat his touch had brought.
As she blinked and fought to catch her breath, she noticed two women, slack-jawed, staring at them. “Oh, Duel…” Mortification set in.
“Damnation! Can’t a man kiss his wife without everyone in the whole darn town gawking?” Duel berated the pair. Still, the smile never left his face. “Come, Jess.” He offered his arm. “I didn’t finish my business with Mr. Dexter.”
“Suppose we run into Hampton Pierson?” A silent prayer pitter-pattered across her mind.
“Kinda hope we do. Wouldn’t mind dusting the floor with the seat of his britches again.”
Her startled gasp brought his quick assurance. “Just funnin’ you, Jess. I promise to behave.”
She hoped he kept his word. She couldn’t imagine anything more unseemly than having two grown men fighting over her. And yet a flush made her bodice stick to her skin. She’d never had a champion such as her tall Texan before. The taste of him lingered on her lips like rich, succulent berries.
*
Mr. Dexter had just finished tacking a handbill to the front of the store when they returned. He greeted them with a sly grin.
“Just missed Hampton if you came back to finish the job, Duel. Most excitement we’ve had around here since Jane Sims spent the night with Charlie Maxfield and he had to make an honest woman of her.” The man chortled, slapping his thigh.
“Not lookin’ for Pierson. Reckon I got my point across.” A twinkle glistened in Duel’s eyes when he glanced down. “What’s that you’re hammering up, Dexter?”
“Marshal Cobb from over New Braunfels way brought this several weeks ago and asked me to post it. Bein’ as how we have no sheriff, he left it with me. Got lost under a shipment of bedding.”
Jessie felt Duel’s muscles clench beneath her hand, which she’d casually looped through the crook of his arm. Then she saw the source and went rigid.
A reward for the capture of Jessie Foltry!
The sizable sum promised for her capture stunned her. Five hundred dollars would guarantee plenty of attention. At least there was no picture.
“Sure is a shame your wife has to share her name with a woman like that.” Dexter shook his head. “Plumb strange.”
Panic crushed her chest, and she choked on her ragged breath. Her husband’s calm gaze did little to settle her terror. Nothing would. I have a price on my head.
“Shoot, Dexter. It’s a common name. I’m willing to bet there’s at least a couple of hundred in the state of Texas.”
His cool reply amazed her.
When the shop owner opened the door for them to enter, Duel gave her a gentle hug. She forced a calmness she didn’t feel and stepped with him over the threshold.
*
Luke McClain hooked his boot heel over the brass rail of the Firewater Saloon. Cactus Springs didn’t have that much to offer. About what he’d expect in a one-horse town. Firewater appeared the best of the drinking establishments that lined the dusty street. That was, if he’d been there for that. He wasn’t.
“Your pleasure, mister?” The barkeep’s thin, wispy mustache drooped well below his chin on each side and wiggled when he talked. Thick muttonchop sideburns jutting to his jaw gave the man a comical appearance.
“Your best rotgut.” He surveyed the room. Half-empty, the Firewater’s possibility for information seemed limited to the barkeep, two saloon girls, and a handful of rowdy cowboys.
His mentor, Maj. John B. Jones, had taught him the value of saloons. “No better place to get the lay of the land, son.”
Staring at the poor choices, Luke didn’t hold a whole lot of hope for success here. Yet one never knew.
The barkeep slid the small glass across the bar. “That’ll be two bits.”
“Business slow?” He flipped a coin onto the counter before downing the fiery liquid in one gulp.
“For this time of day. Things start jumpin’ about dark.” The barkeep polished a glass with a dishrag. “Haven’t seen you around these parts.”
“Nope.” The glass made a thump when he set it down, then pushed it across with two fingers. “Another.”
Silently, the man refilled it and pocketed a second coin. “What kind of business brings you to Cactus Springs?”
“Depends.” Luke cradled the drink between his thumb and forefinger. “Know a family from here by the name of Rumford?”
“Cain’t say’s I do.”
“Might’ve had a fire and burned ’em out? Woman went by the name of Jessie?”
“Nope.” The man’s mustache twitched like a cork on the end of a fishing pole. He picked up a box and toted it through a doorway.
A scantily clad woman sidled up beside Luke and propped her elbows on the bar. Her cherry-red lips curved enticingly.
“Howdy, ma’am.” Luke tipped his hat.
“Whew, better watch out, cowboy, or I’ll take you home with me. Went my whole life an’ nary heard ‘ma’am’ at all. Now you make the second time in five months.” Her blond locks brushed his arm as she leaned forward to give him an unrestrained view of her charms.
“Bet I know who the first was,” Luke muttered quietly. There wasn’t another man in Texas more polite than his older brother.
“Buy a woman a drink, mister?” The
woman boldly stroked his arm. He returned her smile.
“Be obliged if you’d join me, ma’am.”
“Name’s Ellie.” She reached across the bar for a glass, then poured a generous portion from a tall, amber bottle.
“Luke.” He eyed the liquid in his still-full glass. He had gulped the first one to prove his manhood. Never hurt in a strange town. Sorta put folks in the right frame of mind. But now he had better slow down. A cool head couldn’t stand too much libation.
“Well, Luke, I do like that name.” Ellie swigged her drink. “Tell me, are you in a hurry?”
“Don’t reckon I am.” He understood her implication, and he might have taken her up on it had the circumstances been different. However, he had other things more pressing on his mind. “Lived in Cactus Springs long?”
“Just about all my life.” She eased the red strip of fabric off one shoulder, then let the tips of her painted fingernails slide across her bare skin.
“Ever hear the name Jessie Rumford?” He casually reached and refilled her glass. Please let her say yes. He didn’t like the burning in his gut. His brother’s wife couldn’t be a coldblooded husband-killer.
“No, ain’t familiar.” Her answer shot his hopes to hell.
Ellie squinted at him suddenly. “You couldn’t be kin to a man who came through here an’ won Will Gentry’s kid in a poker game, could you?”
“My brother.”
“Well, I’ll be a saint from the Pearly Gates!” Ellie certainly couldn’t lay claim to that distinction by any stretch of the imagination. “Goodness, that was one handsome man. Mannerly, too.”
“Duel McClain. Don’t suppose you saw a woman with him?”
“He was alone. That is, till he got saddled with the kid.” Ellie tipped the glass and let the liquid slide down her throat. A thin trail dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it with the back of her hand. “I helped him find necessities for the babe. Didn’t know beans about takin’ care o’ her.”
“Duel’s got the hang of it now, I reckon.” With Jessie’s help, he added silently. He shuddered to think what would happen to his brother if his new wife turned out to be a murderer. Losing one had almost destroyed him. What would losing a second do to his state of mind?