He led her upstairs and into her room. He pushed her gently onto her cot and shucked off her heavy brown riding boots. Then he removed her hat and the wooden pins that held her hair on top of her head. He brushed it out with his fingers, murmuring softly beneath his breath. When Adam pulled back the patchwork quilt Jessica allowed him to ease her beneath it and then cover her to her chin. His long black hair tickled her cheek as he leaned over her to tuck her in.
Jessica's eyelids fell. She was in a dream state, half awake, half asleep. She ached so badly for Mark, for the life in Tennessee that she'd left behind that her chest actually hurt. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks.
"It's all right, Jess," Adam whispered. She heard a chair scrape the floor as he pulled up beside her bed. "Go to sleep. Life won't look so dark in the morning." He slipped his hand beneath the quilt and took hers.
Adam's touch comforted her and slowly her tears ebbed. Somewhere far in the recesses of her mind she knew she should send him away. She hated him, didn't she? Though at this moment she couldn't quite recall why.
"You don't have to stay," Jessica said softly.
"I won't stay long," Adam answered in a low, reassuring voice. "You just sleep."
Already his voice was fading in the distance. She snuggled further down in the feather tick and drifted off to sleep, clutching Adam's hand.
Jessica woke to a room filled with bright morning sunshine. She stretched her limbs like a lazy cat. To her surprise she realized she was wearing all of her clothes. Her leather skirt was tangled at her knees, her faded white shirt half unbuttoned. As she swung her feet over the edge of the bed, memories of the previous night flooded her memory. She remembered being so cold, so alone there in the depot and then he'd suddenly appeared, a savior. She half smiled. His touch had been comforting. He had brought her home and tucked her into her bed like a small, lost child. Adam Sern had been there when she needed someone the most.
Jessica went to the tiny cracked mirror that hung on the wall. "So what do you think of that?" she asked herself aloud.
What was there to think? She hadn't asked Adam to do any of that. It didn't change any of the circumstances of Mark's death or what she had to do. Adam Sern was still the enemy.
With that settled, Jessica began to perform her morning ablutions. Mark was buried and it was time for her to put her grief aside and start tracking down the Black Bandit and his gang.
With her hair and teeth brushed with the brushes Kat had given her as a parting gift, and her face washed, Jessica was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. She lifted her hat off the chair. Beneath it was a stack of crisp new bills. She swept them off the chair. It was payment for Zeus and then some.
She shook her head as she folded the bills and slipped them into her bodice. That Adam was a strange man. . . . But she didn't want to think about him, not now. It just made everything too confusing.
Downstairs, the saloon was empty. Pauline brought Jessica a fried egg, a spoon of beans, a biscuit, and a mug of cool milk.
The girl watched Jessica as she began to eat. "Reckon you'll be catchin' the next train out now that your brother's buried."
"Mmmm." Jessica knew that the less she said to anyone about going after the outlaws, the better off she'd be. "You have a newspaper here in town?"
"Sure do! Gus Hawkins, he prints a fine paper a couple times a month." Pauline made herself busy wiping off tables.
"Where's his shop?"
"In the telegraph office, of course. Most people does more than one thing in this town. Mr. Moore, he's thinkin' about startin' up a bathhouse. Pedro, he's the barber, he's got one, but he goes on a drunk so often that he's never open."
Jessica sipped her milk, savoring the cool liquid. It couldn't be long after nine and it was already sweltering. "Well, thank you for the breakfast." She wiped her mouth on the napkin and laid it aside. "I was starved."
"Healthy appetite, that's a good sign. I guess I can tell Mr. Sern you're feeling better."
Jessica pushed out of her chair. "What do you mean? Why would you be saying anything to Adam about me?" The moment his first name slipped out, she was sorry. She didn't want anyone in town thinking she was too familiar with him—or he with her.
Pauline picked up the dirty dishes. "Mr. Sern was just askin' about you. He was up early and gone but he asked me to make sure you got a good breakfast. He said I was to run down and check the train schedule for you if you wanted me to." She took a deep breath. "So did you want me to?"
Jessica adjusted her hat on her head. "That won't be necessary, Pauline. But thank you." She went out of the saloon and started down the plank walk in the direction of the telegraph office. She didn't like the thought of Adam Sern having Pauline look after her. Who did he think he was, her self-appointed guardian or something?
She gave a sigh, hurrying down the street. Hopefully the newspaper office would have some old clipping on the Black Bandit. The sooner she got information on the outlaw, the sooner she'd be rid of this town and Adam Sern.
Chapter Five
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
Jessica stared at Adam's boots, then lifted her gaze to take in his handsome chiseled face. He was looking down at her with hooded heathen eyes. This was the first time she'd seen him since he'd taken her back to her room two nights ago.
"Doing?" She glanced. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Sern." It's better to remain on a formal basis, she thought. This man had a way of getting under a person's skin.
"Don't play sweet and innocent with me, Jess. You know exactly what I mean. First you're bugging Gus for newspaper articles on the Black Bandit, then you're down at the train depot trying to buy information from the employees."
Jessica ground the toe of her boot into the dirt. She was sitting on the step outside the Red Moon Saloon just thinking. There was plenty of information out there on the outlaws; it was only a matter of sifting through it. She stared at Adam's boots wondering what kind of snakes had died to make them. "There was a gang that busted through a little town by the name of Sharpston last night. You know it?"
"Sure I know it; it's between here and Logan."
"It had to be them," Jessica mused aloud. "They have to be holing up nearby."
Adam studied her heart-shaped face. He saw barely a glimmer of the woman who had stood at the depot the other night, sobbing like a lost child. There was nothing but hell and fire in this woman's cat-green eyes. She was going to be harder to get rid of than he'd anticipated. "I said, what do you think you're doing?"
Jessica stood, brushing off the back of her skirt. The alkaline dust of northwestern Utah was everywhere; on her clothes, in her hair, on her face. It was powdery and dry, like sifted flour; there was no escaping it. "I'm going to catch myself an outlaw or two, that's what I'm doing, Mr. Sern."
Adam chuckled. "You? A woman? It's my job to catch the Black Bandit and his men."
Her eyes met his in a challenge. "You? An Indian?"
Adam stiffened. He ground his teeth. He'd been up against prejudice since the day he left the Ojibwa. Why did it still hurt? "Women don't chase down outlaws."
"It seems men don't either."
Adam felt his hands tighten into fists.
She poked a finger into his chest. "Why aren't you out there? Why didn't you go after them this morning when word came into town that they had raided Sharpston? Surely I wasn't the first person to hear the news."
"For your information, I'm waiting on a federal marshal. I have to be made a deputy marshal to legally track these men—to kill them if I find it necessary." He knocked off his wide-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead. "Why am I telling you this? I don't have to answer to you." He flexed his hands making an effort to keep a cool head. "Look, Jess, I'll catch the bandit and see that justice is done. Let me get you a ticket. Just get on that train and don't get off until you hit Seattle."
Jessica walked up the two steps, turning to face him. She was Adam's height now and could stare straight into his eye
s that were as black as the onyx handles of his pistols. "I don't want justice. I want blood! My brother's dead and that man has my carpetbag!"
"The money in that bag is gone, Jess. It's gone."
"I want my bag. I want my mother's picture. I want my grandmother's sugar cookie recipe. I want my money—theirs will do."
He tugged at the long mane of black hair tied behind his head. He'd never met a woman so damned determined . . . except maybe his mother. "You're being unreasonable. You're not thinking clearly. It's the grief."
"You're wrong, Mr. Sern. I'm thinking very clearly." She gave him a shove. "So don't get in my way!"
He watched her turn and stalk off. "I can have you arrested for obstructing justice."
"I'm not that easily frightened off. I'm not stupid either. You think I don't know the sheriff's got better things to do than to arrest nosy women?" She laughed, her voice warm and throaty. "You're just afraid I'm going to get to them first and ruin that knight-in-shining-armor reputation of yours. Wouldn't that be something? I can see the headlines now."
Adam followed her. He was beginning to wonder if the woman was unstable. "Jessica. This isn't a game. These men kill for the sport of it."
"I'm a good shot," she called over her shoulder. She was headed for the livery stable to check on Hera before she turned in for the night. "They say the Black Bandit's aim is lousy."
Adam ran after her, catching her arm. She spun around angrily. "Let go of me."
"You weren't afraid of my touch the other night," he challenged.
"That was different." She refused to look away and she refused to make apologies. "But I didn't ask for it," she went on hostilely, "and I don't owe you anything in return."
He released her. How could he explain to her how much it had meant to him the other night—to feel her warmth, to feel her need him? Hell, he didn't understand it himself. "I don't want you to get hurt. You can go to Seattle," he reasoned. "Find a nice husband. Grow that apple orchard if you want."
She shook her head. "You don't get it, do you?" Her hands fell to her hips as she looked out at the sun setting behind the rooftops of Loco. It was a brilliant half circle shooting rays of golden light. She looked back at Adam. "Mark was my brother and that was my carpetbag. The newspapers say you've been chasing that bunch for six months. Now it's my turn."
Adam watched as she flounced off, her stride long and determined. He cursed her beneath his breath. He was going to see that woman on a train bound for Seattle if he had to tie her to the caboose!
Cautiously, Jessica entered the Dead Dog. It was the saloon on the far side of town built next to Loco's whorehouse. The barroom was dim, lit by a few odorous gas lamps. The piano music was loud and poorly played. The moment she stepped inside, she wondered if she shouldn't wait and come back in the daylight. Even through the thick cigar smoke she could see the kind of patrons the saloon catered to.
On the far left two buffalo hunters fought loudly over a hand of cards on the table. The hunter wearing part of a buffalo headdress, horns and all, drew his pistol and his partner obligingly redealt.
There was a tinkle of laughter from a half-dressed saloon girl. "There you go, Robbie. You always get what you want, don't you," she told the hunter with the pistol. She leaned over his shoulder, pressing her ample breasts into his bearded cheek.
Jessica looked away, embarrassed. But everywhere she turned there were more nearly naked women being fondled by drunken patrons. One of the girls leaped atop the piano and several men gathered around, clapping to the familiar tune.
Jessica sidled her way to the bar, dodging a hand that crept out to grasp her skirt. For Mark, she told herself. I have to do this for Mark. She rested her hands on the wooden bar.
"Even', ma'am." The saloon keeper was a giant of a man with a long mane of blond hair he wore in a braid down his back. Around his neck was a string of shiny rosary beads. "If you're lookin' for a job, it's Miss Lil next door you want."
Jessica chuckled. "It's not a job I want."
"Didn't think you did. Don't look much like a sportin' girl. Their eyes is always dull, like they's already half buried."
Jessica slid a silver coin across the damp bartop. "What I want is some information."
He lifted the coin and bit it. "What kind of information you lookin' for? If it's about that gambler they found in my garbage out back, I already tole that sheriff from Ogden, I don't know nuthin' about him. Never seen him before. Never intend to see him again, God rest his soul." He crossed himself.
"I'm looking for another man, a live one. I understand there's a man called Elmo Shine that used to ride with the Black Bandit."
The saloon keeper threw back his head and laughed. "Yer the second one that's been in here today lookin' for ole Shiner. I told that redskinned lawman that Shiner never rode with anybody. He's even been known to spin a tale of bein' a famous Texas ranger, but he's just talk."
"I'll find that out for myself. Where can I find him?"
The saloon keeper poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it in a breathless gulp. "He had to move on on account of one of Miss Lil's gals was threatenin' to whack his withered worm if he came within a mile of her. He was always wantin' credit and I guess she just got fed up with him."
Jessica ignored the man's crude remark. "Where'd he go?"
The saloon keeper suddenly ducked and an instant later an empty whiskey bottle shattered on the wall behind his head. She flinched. He ducked beneath the bar. A moment later he appeared with a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun. "You do that again, Scooter," he bellowed "and I'm gonna blast you! Can't you see I'm busy conversin' with a lady?"
Jessica resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at the man called Scooter. She cleared her throat.
"Now where was we?" The saloon keeper slid his weapon back under the bar. "That's right. Shiner." He wiped his hands on his filthy apron and poured himself another whiskey. "Like I was sayin', he's moved on—to Sharpston, I reckon."
Jessica smiled. "You think he'd be willing to talk to me?"
"You buy him a bottle of bourbon and he'd be willin' to talk to the devil himself, God rest his soul." He crossed himself again.
Jessica backed away, stifling a squeal as something large scurried beneath her feet. "I thank you for the information."
"Anytime."
She kept her eyes on the packed dirt floor as she headed for the door, trying to avoid any more rodents. God, she hated a rat! She was concentrating so hard that she didn't notice the buffalo hunter until she walked right into his hairy arms. She stumbled back and looked up at the man wearing the buffalo headdress.
"Where you goin', a pretty little thing like you?"
Her chest tightened in fear. "Step aside," Jessica said loudly.
"How about a little drink before you're on your way?"
She tried to brush past him. "I don't think so."
He caught her arm in an iron grip. "When Robbie invites a lady for a drink, he don't like bein' turned down."
The bile rose in Jessica's throat. The man smelled of rotting buffalo flesh. His beard was long and matted with a river of tobacco juice down the center. She twisted her arm, ignoring her own pain as she tried to free herself. "I said, I don't want a drink! Now let me go!" She raised her booted foot and kicked him hard just below his knee.
The buffalo hunter cried out in pain and there was an echo of laughter from behind.
The moment he released her hand, Jessica dove for the door but he managed to trip her. She fell with a cry of anguish, but came up swinging her fists. She caught him in the mouth as he struggled to pin her arms behind her.
"Slow down there, little lady." He lifted her off the ground and swung her over his shoulder.
Jessica gagged as her face was pressed into the buffalo hide that hung down his back. She kicked and screamed. Great tufts of buffalo fur flew in the air as she struggled to breathe.
"Put her down!" the barkeep ordered.
Robbie laughed, his entir
e body shaking.
"Since when are you one to get in the way of a man's sport, Little Marvin?" The buffalo hunter swung around so fast that it made Jessica's head spin.
"That little lady ain't on the menu, Robbie, and you know it."
The buffalo hunter slid Jessica to the floor but gripped her throat with a wide filthy palm. "That right? Who's gonna stop me?"
Jessica gasped for breath, digging her fingernails into the man's hand. Any moment she knew she was going to lose consciousness.
The saloon keeper leaped onto the bartop, his double-barreled shotgun in hand. The cross of his rosary was clenched in his teeth. One of the hammers made an ominous click as he cocked it back. "Me. That's who, you stinkin' buffalo carcass!"
Robbie's mouth split into a blackened-toothed grin. "Think I could get a little help here, Gates?"
A pistol went off behind Jessica's head and the bartender dove for the floor to avoid the other buffalo hunter's bullet.
Women screamed and glass shattered as the saloon broke into chaos. It seemed the patrons needed little encouragement to start a brawl. Shots were fired and men swung heavy fists. Two whores rolled on the floor ripping each other's hair out to the delight of a circle of men.
Jessica took advantage of the outbreak of confusion and jammed her elbow into her captor's groin. The man released her, grabbing for his injured parts. She slid to the floor and began to crawl across the damp dirt to the door.
The buffalo hunter gave a bellow and lunged after her. "Get back here, you bitch. All I wanted was a little sport, but you're gonna get more than that now!"
He caught her by the foot and Jessica rolled over, kicking him with her free leg. She managed to grasp his pistol, but he knocked it out of her hand. She screamed as loud as she could, praying the saloon keeper would come to her rescue.
A sudden explosion of gunfire distracted Robbie, and she gave him a hard kick in the chin and yanked her leg free from his grasp. Rolling back onto her hands and knees, she scurried for the door. She found the opening blocked by a pair of snakeskin boots.
Adam reached out and lifted her to her feet.
In Close Pursuit Page 5