Adam urged his stallion faster as the green-eyed woman took off, headed due north. Her mount nearly matched his in speed, but slowly he was gaining on her.
The hoofbeats behind Jessica grew louder. Looking over her shoulder she recognized the redskinned railroad detective . . . and he was riding her stallion!
"Give up!" Adam shouted. "Dismount!"
Frightened, Jessica laid her crop on Hera's neck. "Come on, girl. Come on!" The hot, dry wind whipped at Jessica's hair.
"I said dismount, before you're hurt!" Adam was so close that he could see her bright red cheeks . . . those green eyes.
"You let them get away!" Jessica shouted into the wind. The horses were neck and neck.
Adam tried to reach for her and her hand whipped out, snapping him across the wrist with her short, stiff riding crop. He cursed beneath his breath and reached again, this time catching her around the waist.
Jessica screamed as she was torn from Hera's back.
Adam had meant to drop her into his lap, but she struggled so hard that she unseated him. Suddenly they were both tumbling. They hit the ground hard, limbs wrapped around limbs.
Jessica shoved herself up on her elbows, her legs tangled in the half-breed's. "What are you doing chasing me?" she demanded, giving him a kick as she freed her leg.
Adam grabbed her by the collar of her soiled blouse. "Oh, no you don't. You're not getting away!"
She slapped at his hand, twisting free.
"Stupid Indian!" she shouted, leaping up. "Those men just killed my brother! They took my carpetbag with all the money I had in the world!" A tear slipped down her dirty cheek and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. "They took my mama's picture."
Adam came to his feet, eyeing her steadily. She didn't sound like she was with the Black Bandit. She sounded lost, confused, on the verge of hysteria. He yanked his hat up off the ground and banged it on his knee. "So what, might I ask, are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere riding like the devil himself was after you?"
Jessica wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Chasing the outlaws."
Adam couldn't help himself. He burst into dry, angry laughter. "But they went that way." He pointed west.
She refused to meet his gaze. Her hands fell to her hips. "If you're so sure which way they went, why aren't you chasing them? That is your job, isn't it?"
He cringed inwardly. She knew how to cut right to the quick. "My job is to follow all suspects."
Jessica looked up. She touched her chest. "Me? Now it's my turn to laugh. I told you they killed my brother." She kicked at the ground, stirring up a cloud of white dust in his face. "You were supposed to be guarding the train. You were supposed to be protecting my brother."
"I'm sorry."
She looked away, exhaling slowly. She hadn't expected the half-breed to admit to his failure. "So now that you know I'm not one of the outlaws, do you think maybe you ought to get back on my horse and ride after them?" She laced her voice with sarcasm to cover the pain.
"Your horse?" For some reason he wasn't surprised.
She stared out over the desert. Both Hera and Zeus had come to a halt in a patch of grass a hundred yards away. "They're a pair. My brother and I meant to raise horses . . . and grow apples."
Adam stared at the magnificent beasts for a moment. "Adam," he said finally. "Adam Sern."
"What?"
"My name's Adam Sern."
"Well, Adam Sern, are you going to take my horse and go after the outlaws or are you going to point me in their direction and let me go after them myself?"
He snatched his onyx-handled pistol from the band of her riding skirt. "Neither. I'm going to catch those horses and see you safely back to Loco."
"So that's it?" she demanded incredulously. "They just go free?"
He frowned. "Of course not. But I need provisions if I'm going to track them."
"And what happens, if you catch them?"
"They'll stand trial, naturally."
Jessica flounced off toward the horses before Adam had finished his sentence. Trial, my eye, she thought. I'm going to track that murderer and kill him myself!
Chapter Three
Jessica and Adam rode into Loco as dusk settled on the small Utah town. Like many other towns that dotted the West, it had sprung up as a direct result of the railroad. There was a train depot, a telegraph office, a bank that also served as the post office, a Baptist church, two general stores, three saloons, and a whorehouse situated a discreet distance from the church.
Jessica looked up at the sun-bleached false fronts of the rickety frame buildings as she and Adam came down the main street. A dog barked in the distance. The tinny sound of piano music wafted through the warm night air. Laughter and lamplight spilled through a saloon door. An occasional pedestrian hurried down the plank sidewalk. Jessica wrinkled her nose. The town smelled of dust and cow dung.
Adam rode Zeus to the door of the second saloon they came to and swung out of his saddle.
À faded wooden sign hung in silence overhead, undisturbed by the slight breeze. THE RED MOON SALOON, the hand-painted letters read. A DECENT ESTABLISHMENT FOR FOOD, DRINK, AND LODGING.
Jessica glanced doubtfully at the swinging louvered doors. "This the best place to stay?"
"The only place," Adam answered. "I'll get a room for you."
Jessica dismounted. "No money . . . remember?" She was hot and tired. All she wanted was a cool bath and a soft bed. She didn't want to think, she just wanted to sleep.
"The railroad will pay for it. You can catch another train out in a day or so. I'll make the arrangements."
She gave a laugh that was sarcastic and accusing. "I'd be a fool to depend on you, wouldn't I, Mr. Sern?" She patted Hera's silky neck as the mare drank from a water trough beneath the hitching post.
Adam twisted the Appaloosa's reins around his hand. He felt responsible for Jessica's situation, but she made it damned hard for him to be gracious. "Suit yourself." He shrugged, tying the stallion securely to the post. "Thank you for the loan of the horse. I've never ridden one so fine."
Jessica watched Adam Sern as he strode through the doors of the saloon and disappeared inside. If she ever saw that redskinned lawman again, it would be too soon. She hated him as violently as she hated the man who had killed her brother. It was his fault! It was Adam's! She gripped the rough wood of the hitching post. He should have been there to protect Mark! He should have been able to save him!
With a sigh, Jessica walked up the two steps to the saloon and went in. Approaching the bar, she waited for a tall man in wire-rimmed spectacles to finish serving Adam a beer.
"Yes, miss, can I help you?" He wiped his thin hands on a damp apron he wore around his waist.
"I need a room, but I haven't any money. I was aboard the train when it was robbed. They took everything I had."
The bartender shook his head. "You're lucky you didn't lose your life. It's a wonder you weren't all killed! That Black Bandit, he's a bad one. Never any tellin' what he might do."
She nodded as her eyes strayed to Adam seated at a table near the staircase. "Do you have a room, and can I pay for it later?"
He came around the oak bar. "No need to worry, miss. Mister Sern's taken care of it. Food, too. The railroad is good about reimbursing me for my trouble. Best customer I got."
Jessica was tempted to turn and walk out the door. She wanted no help from Adam Sern. He was as guilty of her brother's murder as the outlaw who'd pulled the trigger. But she knew she couldn't let her pride get the best of her. She needed some food and a good night's sleep if she was going to come up with a plan on how to catch the outlaw.
She looked up at the bartender who was twirling one end of his waxed mustache. "All right, thank you." She managed a grim smile.
Jessica followed him past Adam's table and up the stairs. He opened a room for her at the far end of the hall.
"It's small but it's clean, miss."
She nodded, stepping into the cubicl
e. There was a narrow cot against one wall opposite a chair and a table with a washbowl and pitcher. A small window dominated the outside wall. "This'll be fine." She turned back to him. "Could I possibly get a bath?" Subconsciously she smoothed her dusty skirt.
The bartender grimaced. "Sorry, miss, but the only bathhouse in town is closed. I ordered a tub, a big brass one, but it ain't come yet."
She nodded. "Some hot water then?"
"I'll send it right up, and there'll be stew and bread for you waitin' downstairs."
Jessica stretched out on the worn but clean patchwork quilt that covered the cot as the bartender left the room, closing the door behind him. She squeezed her eyes shut, resting her head on the feather pillow.
The first thing she had to do was see to Mark's body. She rubbed her teary eyes. She couldn't think about her brother, not now. What good were tears anyway? Revenge was what she wanted . . . blood.
Jessica sniffed. Once Mark had a decent burial, then she'd deal with the Black Bandit. She'd have to figure out a way to get some money to buy provisions. She'd start collecting information about the outlaw and his men. Surely the townspeople would know something. She wouldn't go off after the outlaws half-cocked this time; she'd have a plan.
A knock sounded at the door and Jessica opened her eyes, staring at the punched-tin ceiling. "Yes?"
"Hot water, miss," came a young girl's voice.
"Come in."
Jessica watched as a pretty, freckle-faced redhead filled the bowl on the. washstand with water. The child nodded her head and backed out of the door, closing it again.
Jessica washed her face and neck, then her arms with a gritty bar of lye soap left on the washstand. Rinsing off with cool water from the pitcher, she dried herself with a cotton towel the girl had brought. A small cracked mirror on the wall caught Jessica's eyes and she peered into it. Her heart-shaped face was pale, her brown hair a tangled mess. Running her fingers through the thick mass, she tied it back with a stray strand of hair. At least she looked fit to be seen in a public dining room now.
Before Jessica had made it down the staircase she spotted Adam Sern. He was seated at the same table, staring up at her with those heathen black eyes of his. She brushed past him, refusing to give him so much as an acknowledgment.
She took a seat on the far side of the room, near the window. A few patrons glanced up at her, but then returned to their talk and drink. Four men, a few tables over, concentrated on a game of poker. The same red-haired girl that had brought Jessica the water appeared with a plate of stew and a mug of amber liquid.
The girl blushed slightly as she laid down the plate and mug. "I brought you cider 'stead of beer, but Mr. Moore says you're welcome to the beer."
Jessica glanced up.
"All paid for," the redhead went on, faster than before. "Courtesy of the railroad. Mr. Sern, he took care of it."
Jessica spread her napkin on her lap and lifted her fork. "You know Mr. Sern, do you?"
"Reckon I do. He's the one who got me this job." She lowered her voice. "My ma worked over to Miss Lill's, but she died and I didn't have no where to go. Never knew my pappy."
"So Mr. Sern helped you out . . ." Jessica took a bite of the stew. It was hot and spicy.
"Mmm hmmm. He got Mr. Moore to hire me and give me a room in the attic." She smiled proudly. "I go to school in the winter."
Jessica's gaze involuntarily went to Adam. To her horror he was staring straight back at her. She turned away, taking a bite of biscuit. "I loved school when I was your age. My papa used to drive me in his rig on rainy days."
"Well, guess I'd best get back to the dishes, but if'n you need any more stew or bread, just give me a holler. My name's Pauline."
"Thank you, Pauline. This is more than I can possibly eat."
Nodding, the girl scurried off.
With her stomach comfortably full and her thirst quenched, Jessica found it easier to think logically, pushing her emotions aside. She needed money for Mark's funeral and to buy provisions, but she didn't have time to find a job and work for it. Every day that passed could be putting more distance between her and the outlaws. No, the obvious answer, the only answer, was to sell one of the horses. She glanced up at the bartender who was drying a stack of clean glasses. "Mr. Moore."
He came around the bar, a glass and towel in hand. "Miss Landon, what can I do for you? More stew?"
"No." She pushed aside her plate, lowering her voice. "I've had plenty, thank you. What I want to know is, is there somewhere in town where I could sell one of my horses?"
He adjusted his spectacles. "Horses like those Appaloosas? Not likely. The livery stable is owned by Walt Morris and he's as cheap as a two-bit whor"—the bartender reddened—"excuse me, miss. No, Walt don't look for good horses, just live ones—or barely."
"One of the townspeople, maybe?" She asked hopefully. "I could give them a good deal. I need money to bury my brother who was killed in the train robbery."
"Miss, each one of those horses you got out there, at a bargain, is worth more than most folks in Loco make in a year."
Jessica studied his thin face. "There isn't anyone?"
The bartender scratched his chin. "Come to think of it, there is."
She broke into a smile. "Who?"
He gave a nod of his head. "Mr. Sern, of course. They say he's a rich man—money in the East."
Her face fell. Not him . . ."You're certain there's no one else?"
The bartender went on polishing his glass. "No, I'm telling you, if you want to sell a piece of horseflesh like that, Adam Sern's your man."
She watched Mr. Moore walk back behind the bar. She didn't want to speak to that half-breed, much less bargain with him. Just looking at his tall, muscular frame, made her uncomfortable. She sighed. But what else was she going to do? And he had noticed Zeus' superior breeding.
Taking the last gulp of cider, Jessica rose out of her seat and walked toward Adam's table. He watched her as she came toward him. When she reached his side he stood and pulled out the other chair. She accepted it.
Adam sat down again and leaned across the small wooden table. "What can I do for you, Miss Landon?" His voice was low and provocative.
She found herself lost in the depth of his ebony eyes. She hated Adam Sern, but there was something about him that intrigued her, that drew her toward him. "I—" She looked up at the green glass chandelier, trying to rally her thoughts. She returned her gaze to his. "I need money, so I was wondering if you'd be interested in purchasing that horse of mine," she blurted out.
Adam sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He regarded her through hooded eyelids. There was something about this Jessica that frightened him; he could feel it deep in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't like the fear a man had when he heard the rattle of a snake's tail, or saw the flash of gunfire. It was worse. There was something about her emerald green eyes, the curve of her rosy lips, the set of determination in her chin that made Adam think he needed to get as far away from her as possible—as soon as possible. He'd buy both of her horses at an exorbitant price if that was what it took to get her on a train and out of his life.
"So?" She leaned toward him, pressing her elbows on the scarred tabletop. "Zeus is in prime form, sired more foals than I can count. And he can run until you drop dead. His line of Appaloosas have been in my father's family since before the war." When Adam made no comment, she opened her mouth to speak again, but he held up a broad palm.
"You don't have to sell me on the stallion's finer points, they're obvious." He paused. "I'll take them both."
Jessica shook her head. "Hera's not for sale."
"I'll pay you well. Enough to get a start on buying some land in Washington territory for that apple farm of yours."
"I said, Mr. Sern, the mare's not for sale." She leaned back in her chair. It was her turn to regard him. She needed Hera if she was going to track the Black Bandit. Besides, the mare was all she had left of her papa and Mark.
"After I see to my brother's body." She gazed at him with feigned innocence. "Where else would I go, Mr. Sern?"
There was something about her tone of voice that concerned Adam, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Name your price."
She lowered her voice to a whisper.
Adam chuckled at her reply. "You strike a hard bargain, madam."
"I understand you can afford it."
"People in this town have loose jaws—nothing better to do but flap them."
"So do we have a deal?"
He offered his hand and she accepted it, giving it a shake. An odd, hot tingle rose up her arm as she withdrew from his grasp. She wiped her hand on her skirt as if she could wipe away the feel of his touch. "I'll expect the payment in full before you take him."
"I don't carry that kind of cash around, not as often as I get robbed."
Jessica almost laughed at his joke, but caught herself in time. "When can you get it?"
"Tomorrow when the bank opens."
She nodded, slipping out of her seat. "Now I have to see about my brother."
He rose with her. "Arrangements have been made. A coffin's being built. Doc Abbot is taking care of the body." Adam put out a hand to steady her as she swayed on her feet.
Jessica took a deep breath, feeling foolish. Death was a part of life; she knew that. She had grown up with death around her. First Mama, when Jessica was ten, then Papa. Still, Mark's death seemed the hardest to bear. She gazed up at Adam. His hand, touching her arm, made it difficult to think clearly. It was the caress of a man who understood her pain, not that of a murderer's. She stepped away. "I—I'm all right. Just tired. But I want to see Mark."
In Close Pursuit Page 3