Rogues in Texas 02 - Never Love a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  *

  With the darkness of midnight surrounding him, Harrison drew up the collar on his duster and huddled within his clothing as the rain pounded his back. He should have insisted that Jessye return to Fortune with Kit and Magpie. The warmer weather had yet to make its return. Instead, colder winds had been joined by torrential rains.

  Riding beside him, Jessye sat hunched in her saddle. They needed a warm fire, but he’d had no luck finding a dry spot. If she complained, he couldn’t hear her over the howl of the wind.

  But he seriously doubted that she was complaining. They had traveled to the west and south for ten days and had yet to find a single cow. It seemed the beasts were more intelligent than either he or Jessye. Setting up camp was pointless when their saddles were warmer than the ground.

  She had told him that towns were few and far between, but he had expected to find some sort of shelter. Even after spending several months in Texas , the absolute lack of civilization in this state astounded him. Perhaps they should look into building proper roads and decent taverns where a man could get a stiff drink and a soft, feminine body to warm him through the night.

  Guilt pricked his conscience with that thought, and he cast a sideways glance at Jessye. Did she ever long for a hard, masculine body to warm her through the night?

  She had asked no more personal questions of him since his fit of rage. They were business associates in the truest sense. If they talked at all, they discussed the cattle and the journey they would make come spring. In truth, he found the conversations utterly boring. The only consolation they afforded him was the opportunity to hear her raspy voice. He imagined that smoky inflection moaning with pleasure, urging him on with whispered words of passion. If only her price was one he could afford to pay.

  She sat a little straighter and leaned forward slightly. She pointed her gloved hand. Her mouth moved, but the wind captured her words.

  He sidled his horse closer to hers. “What?”

  “A house!”

  He squinted through the rain. In the distance, a faint light beckoned. He nodded, not certain if she saw his actions. Not that it mattered. She was already guiding her horse toward the light. He hoped it was an inn, or at the very least a farm with a dry barn in which they could spend the night.

  The rain and darkness distorted the light. A few times he lost sight of it, then it reappeared as though by magic. The trees had lost their leaves to winter, and the bare branches snagged his clothing as he followed Jessye. When they passed into the clearing that surrounded a house, he took the lead. He drew his horse to a halt, dismounted, and tethered the reins to the porch railing. Beside him, Jessye followed suit.

  He slipped his hand beneath his duster and wrapped his frozen fingers around the cold handle of the revolver. He’d never used it other than to shoot cans. He prayed he wouldn’t be forced to use it tonight. Jessye stepped onto the porch. With a frustrated sigh, Harrison leapt over the steps and grabbed her shoulder. He felt her glare even though her hat brim shadowed her face.

  “We don’t know what we’ll find. Let me stand in front,” he insisted.

  He expected an argument, but she merely nodded, probably as anxious to escape from the cold as he was. He slipped in front of her and knocked. Lightning flashed in the distance, thunder rumbled, and a woman’s scream echoed on the other side of the door.

  Shoving him aside, Jessye pounded on the wood. Harrison jerked her back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Someone needs help.”

  “You haven’t a clue—”

  The door flung open, and a man who looked as white as freshly fallen snow filled the doorway. Another scream ripped through the house, and the man blanched. “You know anything about birthin’?”

  “Not a thing—” Harrison began.

  “I do,” Jessye said as she sidled past the man and trudged inside.

  The man followed her, leaving Harrison with no choice but to do the same. He closed the door behind him, welcoming the warmth of the fire burning within the hearth.

  “You got some water heated?” Jessye asked as she removed her hat, gloves, and duster. She rolled up her sleeves.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man fetched it for her, and she washed her hands.

  “How long has she been in labor?” Jessye asked.

  “Goin’ on two days.” The man turned his attention to Harrison as though seeking understanding. “I thought it’d be like a mare givin’ birth to a foal. Ain’t nothing like it at all.”

  “A woman isn’t a horse,” Jessye said, disgust woven through her voice. “Where is your wife?”

  “Back here in the bedroom,” the man said, leading the way.

  Jessye glanced over her shoulder at Harrison . “Wash your hands.”

  His stomach tightened at the command, and dread ripped through him. “Why?”

  “‘Cuz I’m gonna need your help.”

  *

  Harrison had grown up listening to his mother’s constant badgering. She’d never missed an opportunity to point out that her second son was useless. Until this moment, however, Harrison had not understood the full measure of the word.

  Nor resented the fact that he was exactly that—useless.

  He hadn’t a clue how to bring a child into the world.

  But Jessye knew. The knowledge was evident in the defiant set of her chin and the calmness that settled within the green depths of her eyes. When she wiped the sweat from her cheek with a bloodied hand, a darkened brown smear remained. His gut clenched, and his only thought was, Thank God, it isn’t her blood.

  “Help her sit up, Harry,” Jessye ordered.

  He stared helplessly at the woman gripping the iron railings of the headboard. “I would think that is the last thing—”

  “She’s gonna need to bear down, and it’ll be easier if she’s sitting up some. Just put your arms behind her shoulders and help her up.”

  The determination in Jessye’s eyes had him wedging his arms between the woman’s back and the sweat-soaked mattress. He didn’t know how the woman’s trembling body could bear what was to come.

  “Oh, Lordy,” the woman moaned. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jessye assured her. “Just push down, push down as hard as you can.”

  He felt the woman straining, heard her grunts. It was all he could do not to bellow along with her. The sweat streaming down his face stung his eyes as though he was the one caught within the throes of labor.

  “It’s almost here,” Jessye said softly. Her gaze snapped to the woman’s, and he was surprised to see tears shimmering within her eyes. “It’s got black hair.”

  “Like her pa,” the woman said, panting.

  “Give it another push,” Jessye urged.

  He didn’t know where the woman found the strength, or how everything that had been happening so slowly occurred with such speed—but suddenly, a beautiful smile graced Jessye’s face as she held a bawling babe in her arms.

  “It’s a girl,” Jessye announced as she placed the child within her mother’s arms.

  “Ain’t she purty,” the woman whispered reverently, as though she’d forgotten the pain and trouble the child had just caused and would probably cause for the remainder of her life.

  Harrison stepped back, not liking at all the way his gaze seemed to caress the child, as though he might forgive her as well. He swept his attention to Jessye, and the longing he saw reflected in her eyes caught him like a punch to the jaw. In the short time he’d known her, he’d never seen her yearn for anything, but he knew beyond a doubt that right now she wanted to take that child back into her arms.

  She turned toward him, and the longing retreated like a shadow touched by the sun. “Why don’t you see about warming up some more water? I’ll finish in here, and then we’ll wash the baby.”

  He gave a brusque nod and strode from the bedroom. He had no desire to learn exactly what “finishing” entailed.

  Before, he’d had little time
to notice the plain main room or the furniture held together by rope and wood wedging one piece into another.

  The front door opened, and the man stepped inside, his eyes reflecting worry. “I tended to your horses. Put ‘em in the barn.” His gaze went to the bedroom door.

  “You have a daughter,” Harrison said quietly.

  “A daughter,” the man repeated. “And Jo Beth?”

  “She seems fine.”

  The man stuck out his hand. “I’m obliged to you.”

  Harrison slid his hand into the man’s strong grasp. “The ladies did all the work.”

  “I’m obliged just the same. I’m Peter Haskell. Don’t recall that we was properly introduced. Don’t recall much but worryin’.” His gaze slid back to the bedroom door. “You reckon I could go see my wife and daughter now?”

  “I don’t know why not.” The moment Peter Haskell disappeared into the bedroom, Harrison dropped into a chair. He no longer heard the baby wailing or the woman moaning, but he still envisioned the longing in Jessye’s eyes.

  He heard the bedroom door open and the soft footfalls. He glanced over his shoulder. Contentment etched within the lines of her face, Jessye held the child curled against her breast.

  “I’ve neglected my duties,” Harrison said as he stood. “I haven’t warmed the water—”

  “That’s all right. We’re in no hurry.”

  As he set a pot of water on the stove, from the corner of his eye he watched Jessye sit in a rocker. She hummed as she rocked the child, holding her close to her bosom. He thought he would carry that image of peace with him until his dying day. Had his mother ever held him with such reverence? Such love?

  He crossed the room and crouched before Jessye. A smile eased across her face. “Isn’t she perfect?”

  “It’s a good thing the woman didn’t have to depend on me to help her. I hadn’t a clue as to what I should do. I suppose birthing comes naturally to women.”

  Jessye shook her head slightly as she gazed at the child. “Gave birth to one of my own once, so I knew what to do.”

  Harrison felt as though someone had just punched him in the midsection. “I never realized you’d been married—”

  “I wasn’t.” Her voice carried no shame, no quest for pity. “The fella ran off. The war had just started. Reckon he figured he’d rather face a Yankee bullet than marriage to me.”

  “The man was a fool.”

  “I was the fool, Harry. I lapped up his smooth talking the way a cat laps up cream.”

  “What of the child?”

  Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

  Harrison placed his hand over hers. “Jessye, what happened to the child?”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes when she opened them. “I gave her up.”

  “Gave her up? You hated her that much?”

  Reaching out, she dug her fingers into his forearm, her eyes pleading for understanding. “No, I loved her that much.”

  He jerked free of her touch. “Love does not abandon.”

  He stalked to the stove and watched the water, drowning in memories he seemed unable to hold at bay. The softening he’d begun to feel toward Jessye had vanished. He had experienced moments when he’d actually believed her to be warm and loving, moments when he’d thought perhaps she could show him the way to love.

  But she had abandoned her child. She was no different from his mother or his mistresses. She was a woman without a heart.

  *

  Jessye lay on her side before the hearth, staring at the dancing flames, her back to Harry. She didn’t know why she bothered to care about the man. He had a habit of wounding her with words … and tonight those words had sliced open a wound that she thought had long ago healed.

  Jo Beth and Peter Haskell had offered them the floor in their front room because the barn was wet and cold. She heard Harry’s breathing, felt his presence, and was contemplating moving to the barn. She didn’t think she could feel any colder there than she did lying here next to him.

  She listened to him shifting his body over the puncheon floor. Would he never settle in to sleep?

  She heard the tiny wail of hunger in the next room—the sweet echo of innocence—followed by silence as a mother took her child to her breast. Jessye had only held her daughter and nourished her for three days … touched her soft hair … breathed in the pure scent of her small baby’s body. A hot tear rolled toward her temple. How could memories that brought such joy hurt so painfully?

  The rustle of Harry’s movements intruded on her thoughts. “Will you be still?” she demanded, jerking her head around to glare at him. He sat on his knees, staring at the bedroom door, his hands balled into tight fists on his thighs.

  “The baby was crying,” he murmured. “Then she stopped. What do you think they’re doing to her?”

  Jessye eased into a sitting position, folding her legs beneath her. “She was hungry. They’re no doubt feeding her.”

  “They didn’t come out here to get any food.”

  “Her mother…” She felt the heat suffuse her face. “Her mother is probably nursing her.”

  Harry’s glance darted to Jessye’s breasts before he shifted his gaze upward to her eyes. He gave a short nod. “Oh, yes. I … I hadn’t thought of that. Did you…” He waved his hand in front of his chest. “Did you feed your baby like that?”

  “While I had her. Before I abandoned her.” She couldn’t prevent the bitterness from tainting her voice.

  He flinched, but his action failed to ease her hurt. “Go to sleep, Harry, and for God’s sake stop twisting and turning.” She started to lie down.

  “I was afraid that they might be hurting the baby.”

  She stilled, studying his profile as he kept his gaze focused on the door. Little wonder the colonies rebelled. The English were a stupid bunch. “You don’t give birth to a baby and then hurt it.”

  “My mother did.”

  Her stomach knotted at the surety in his voice. “Not intentionally—”

  “When I was four, she led me to the cellar. She demanded that I tell her that I loved her. When I did, she said she hated me, shoved me into the dank storage room, closed and locked the door. In the darkness, I heard the rats squealing, the patter of their paws clicking over the cold stone—”

  Jessye’s stomach roiled as the bile burned its way up her throat. Touching his arm, she felt the tenseness in his muscles. “Did she do the same to your brother?”

  He released a mirthless laugh. “To the heir apparent? To the boy who would become the man who decided where she lived and what her allowance would be once Father died? Of course not. I, on the other hand, was of no value except for the pleasures she found in torturing me.”

  “Did you tell your father?”

  “I tried, but I’d made the mistake of crying while I listened to the rats and waited for them to feast upon me. A serving girl discovered me when she went to the cellar to fetch some of his favorite brandy. He overlooked my mother’s transgressions and focused instead upon my red, swollen eyes. After that, he fancied me a popinjay and would have nothing to do with me.”

  “But you were only a child—”

  “A male—even one as young as I was—does not cry. Ever. An earl’s son is never a child. He is born a man.”

  Shuddering, Jessye longed to wrap her arms around him, but she feared his reaction. His voice carried no emotion. His body was coiled tighter than a snake’s. Little wonder he knew nothing of love.

  “Did she ever take you to the cellar again?”

  “Ah, yes,” he replied as though no other answer could exist. “Our journey became a weekly ritual. Even when I stopped telling her that I loved her.”

  “How could she do that to you?”

  He slid his gaze to her. “Haven’t a clue. I rather suspect she might have been insane.”

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she touched her fingers to his cheek, holding his gaze. “She was insane. No mother would have done such a horrid thing to he
r own child—to any child. A mother’s love—”

  He shifted his body so quickly that she nearly fell backward. Facing her directly, his emerald eyes were hard as stone, his face set in rigid lines. “Yes, Jessye, tell me all about a mother’s love. Explain to me how a mother could abandon her child.”

  *

  CHAPTER 5

  « ^ »

  “Looks like you had a rough night,” Jo Beth said. “I know sleepin’ on the floor can be hard on a person. We should have offered you our bed—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Jessye said as she held the bundle of joy within her arms. She hadn’t slept after Harry bad asked his accusatory question. A bed wouldn’t have made any difference. She’d asked herself the same question a thousand times in the passing years, but the words coming from him had hurt her more than she would have thought possible. “A new mother needs all the comforts she can find.”

  “Well, I sure don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t happened along,” Jo Beth said as she eased out of bed.

  Jessye stroked the child’s soft hair. “You would have managed.”

  “Not likely. My Pete’s a good man, but he worries something fierce.”

  Jessye smiled at the woman. “Appreciate that he does. Most men don’t.” She handed the child to her mother.

  “You oughta think about staying until the weather warms,” Jo Beth said.

  Jessye settled her hat into place. “It’ll warm up in a day or so, and we’ll be that much closer to finding the cattle.”

  “You watch that fella you’re traveling with. I think he has an eye set on you.”

  “He has his eyes set on my money.” With that honest truth nipping at her heels, Jessye strode from the house.

  She saw Harry talking with Pete near the saddled horses. Although Jessye had protested, Jo Beth had insisted they take some of the canned goods from her pantry. Jessye slung the saddlebags over the horse’s rump before mounting. “Come on, English, we’re burning daylight.”

  Grinning broadly, Pete took a step toward Jessye. “Did Jo Beth tell you we was naming the baby after the two of you? Jessica Harriet.”

  Jessye felt the tears sting her eyes. “I’m honored. It’s a right fine name. I hope the world always treats her kindly.”