In Close Pursuit

by Colleen French

  "Look out!" Jessica cried as the buffalo hunter came straight for them.

  Adam raised his Colt and Robbie came to a halt.

  "You?" the buffalo hunter asked, wiping his bloody mouth.

  Adam grinned. "None other."

  Robbie gave a friendly chuckle and spat a stream of tobacco juice onto the dirt floor. "We was just foolin'. I didn't mean to bother your woman, redskin." He laughed again. "Did I, darlin'?"

  "Did he hurt you?" Adam demanded, keeping his dark eyes fixed on the buffalo hunter.

  "No," Jessica breathed, still panting. Her blouse was torn and her new hat had been lost in the scuffle. Her hands went to her neck, massaging the bruised flesh. "I'm all right." She retrieved her hat and returned to Adam's side.

  Adam dropped his arm over her shoulder. "Guess we'll be goin' on our way then, Robbie."

  The buffalo hunter took another step back. "Be seein' you, redskin. Right fine sportin' you got there."

  Adam backed his way out of the saloon. The instant he was on the wooden walk, he spun Jessica around to face him. "What in God's holy name were you doing in the Dead Dog?" he demanded.

  Jessica was still so badly shaken that she could barely respond. "In—investigating."

  He took her by the arm propelling her uptown. It was dark out with a pale half-moon hanging low in the cloudless sky. A few lamps swung along the street, illuminating their way.

  "Well, you almost got more of an education than you bargained for." He pulled her roughly along.

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "Back to your room."

  "Why thank you, Mr. Sern," she said sarcastically. "I don't believe I could have found it without you."

  "You're going to your room, and you're going to stay put until morning. Then I'm taking you down to the depot and putting you on the first God-blessed train that rolls through here."

  Jessica opened her mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut. What need was there in arguing with this insufferable man? She had all of the information she needed and she had a few supplies. It was time she moved on anyway. "Does the train go through Sharpston?"

  "No, it doesn't." Adam pushed through the swinging doors of the Red Moon. "Why?"

  She shrugged. "No reason. Just wondering." The fact that the train didn't pass through Sharpston was a minor inconvenience. She allowed him to escort her through the saloon and up the steps.

  "Don't tell me you're coming to your senses?"

  She massaged her neck. "That buffalo hunter could have killed me."

  "Yeah, and he's friendly." Adam pushed open her door.

  She turned to face him. "I suppose you think you deserve to be thanked again, but I've got news for you. I'd have gotten away on my own."

  "Good night," Adam said quietly. "I'll be up to get you in the morning."

  Jessica nodded. It was strange, but she was almost going to miss this arrogant man. He was someone to talk to . . . or at least argue with. But then she thought of Mark and she stiffened. "The morning, then. Good night." She closed the door behind her.

  The following morning Jessica allowed Adam to escort her to breakfast and then to the train depot. With a canvas saddle bag in her hand and a new black, wide-brimmed hat on her head, she walked complacently at his side.

  "You said Hera's already loaded?" Jessica had been talkative all morning; Adam had been sullen.

  "Taken care of this morning." Everything was falling into place for him. The federal marshal was coming in on the same train Jessica was going out on. With a little luck, by afternoon, Adam would be on the bandits' trail. So why did he feel so irritable?

  "And my ticket?"

  "Here." He pulled it out of his back pocket and handed the slip of paper to her.

  Jessica walked up the platform steps. The train had already arrived and passengers were disembarking. "Guess I'd better get on so you can meet your marshal."

  Adam followed her to the passenger car, suddenly feeling awkward.

  She stepped up into the train and turned to him, feeling as if she ought to say something. She offered her hand and he took it. His touch was more of a caress than a handshake. "I guess this is good-bye."

  "You'll like Seattle." He let go of her hand. "You'd better get aboard."

  She smiled at the thought of outsmarting this strutting buck. Then on impulse she leaned forward to brush her lips against his clean-shaven cheek. Before she knew what was happening he had turned his head until their lips met. She sucked in her breath as his lips touched hers, hot and damp. His great arms wrapped around her, pulling her into an embrace. Jessica put up her arms to struggle, but the heat, the taste of him, made her thoughts spin. Her hands fell to his broad shoulders. The force of his tongue invading her mouth made her shudder with fear, but she had no control over her own response. It was primal. His presence was overpowering; it was all encompassing. His hand cupped her chin as he withdrew.

  Jessica raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it in midair.

  The heat of anger rose to color her already flushed cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak.

  "Don't say anything, Jess," he murmured huskily. "For once, just shut your pretty mouth. Get on the train."

  Jessica swallowed hard, staring into his dark pooled eyes. Then she spun around and hurried aboard.

  Adam watched Jessica through the window until she found a seat at the front of the car. He touched his lower lip with his tongue, savoring her taste. How was it that a woman could be all fire and spite and taste like pure honey?

  "Sern!"

  The voice startled Adam and he turned around. Across the platform a man approached, wearing a federal marshal's badge.

  "Marshal. I've been waiting for you. I'm anxious to get on the trail." Adam pushed thoughts of Jessica Landon and her rosy lips out of his mind. She was gone and he was better for it. With that neatly compartmentalized, he could get on with the task at hand. "I've got an office where we can take care of this."

  The marshal lifted a hand. "Lead the way, Sern."

  Jessica watched from the train window as Adam and the federal marshal disappeared into the depot office. Her hands trembled. She was so angry with Adam she could spit. But she was angrier with herself. How could she have stood there and let him kiss her? Gathering her wits, she grabbed her bag and leaped out of her seat. Getting out the opposite door she'd entered, she hurried to the car to the rear of the train that transported horses. A boy was just closing the doors.

  "Stop right there!"

  The tow-headed boy looked up in surprise. "Ma'am?"

  "I said hold it. I need my horse."

  "These horses is all bound for the next stop, M—Ma'am."

  "Not my horse," she snapped impatiently. She glanced around to be sure no one was paying attention and then lifted the heavy iron latch on the door.

  "M—Ma'am, y—you can't go in there." He looked at hard packed ground, then at her, then at the ground again. "I—I could lose my job."

  "You didn't see anything." Jessica hitched up her skirts and heaved her way up into the cattle car. "You think you could let down the ramp?"

  "I—I'm tellin' you, I ain't s—suppose to let the passengers into th—the c—car."

  "Look . . ." She threw her canvas bag over her shoulder. "Now you can slide the ramp down and let me lead her out quietly, or I can just ride her out and cause a commotion."

  Before the words were out of her mouth, the boy was hurrying to do her bidding. "Wh—what am I supposed to say if someone asks me who u—unloaded a horse. Th—they're gonna come up one shy next s—stop they make."

  Jessica grabbed her saddle and bridle and grasped Hera's halter. "Tell them . . . Tell them it was Mr. Sern. Deputy Marshal Adam Sern." She laughed as she led her horse down the metal ramp and away from the train depot where she could saddle up. She was still laughing when she disappeared from the boy's sight.

  Chapter Six

  Riding east in the direction of Logan, Jessica headed out of Loco. She'd gotten dire
ctions to Sharpston from Pauline. "Take the old wagon trail t'ward Logan and bear left at the fork 'fore you hit it. Sharpston'll be ten miles north—northwesterly," the barmaid had said. Jessica just hoped her directions were reliable. The girl said she'd only been there once in her lifetime, with her ma and a wagonful of ladies and that had been years ago.

  Jessica had no trouble picking up the wagon trail Pauline had indicated would be two miles out of town. The sun-bleached bones of horses and cattle lay in piles along the path. The skeletal remains of wagon beds and wheels protruded from the ground. Occasionally she passed a simple cross marking a lonely grave. It was all evidence of the travelers that had made the trek northwest to Oregon before the railroads had come.

  The sounds of insects chirping melded with the rhythmic pounding of Hera's hooves and the squeak of saddle leather. Small animals dove for the cover of tufts of grass as Jessica rode down the narrow trail carved into the earth by the wagon wheels and horses' hooves of years past.

  Again and again Adam Sern came to mind. No matter how hard Jessica tried not to think about him, he kept popping up. She smelled his haunting scent on the hot wind. She felt his touch through her leather gloves. Even now his kiss burned her lips.

  Adam was responsible for Mark's death. She hated him for it. But as much as that was a truth, so was it true that she had wanted him there in the train station, wanted him as she had never wanted any man. She had felt her breasts tingle, her stomach grow warm and queasy. Her response to Adam's touch had been nothing like her response to Jacob Dorchester.

  "Jacob," she said aloud and then gave a derisive snort. His name left a bad taste in her mouth. How could her father have been so utterly taken by such a man? How could he have given her to him like that, sold her like some brood mare?

  Jessica shivered despite the hot sun. "That part of my life is over," she said aloud. "I don't have to think about Jacob. Not ever again."

  Hera's ears twitched at the sound of Jessica's voice and she laughed, patting the mare's neck. "We'll settle matters with this bandit and then we'll head out to Seattle," she told her mount. "I'm sorry you had to lose Zeus, but we all have to make sacrifices, don't we, Hera?"

  Morning passed and the hot sun rose high in the sky and began to fall. Jessica rode on and on, marveling at the unfamiliar landscape. She'd seen nothing but dry desolation since before they'd hit Salt Lake City, but still, she found the land intriguing. She was in awe of the wide expanses and the great open sky.

  Jessica sipped from her new tin canteen on and off during the day to quench her thirst. As evening approached she began to get nervous about finding water. She hadn't come upon a stream all day, not even a dry bed. God, what she would give for a cool drink and bath. The powdery dust that sifted through her clothing had mixed with sweat making her gritty and tired.

  Finally, at dusk, Jessica came upon a slow-moving muddy stream that she surmised must have been running off the mountain range she could see far to the east. Relieved, she followed it half a mile off the wagon trail and hobbled Hera in a patch of green and brown grass. Spreading out the saddle blanket on the ground, she made camp with the few provisions she had brought along. There was a small coffeepot, some coffee, a tin cup, a handful of dried beef and a few biscuits taken from the kitchen of the Red Moon Saloon this morning. Building a small fire, Jessica filled the little pot with water and let it heat. She had meant to bathe, but she was suddenly so tired that she thought she would rest first. A cooling breeze came in with the setting sun and she relaxed, stretching out on the ground and cradling her head on her saddle. Though the beef and biscuits were hard and dry, the coffee was fragrant and soothing.

  After she had finished her meal, Jessica lay back on the ground again and stared up at the great dark sky filled with twinkling stars. Oddly, she wasn't frightened by the night sounds of scurrying nocturnal animals, and the occasional cry of a coyote far in the distance. She felt peaceful inside tonight. She had a job to do and she knew she would accomplish it, or die trying. She smiled in the darkness, rolling into her saddle blanket. Her father had always said that was one of her best attributes—her determination. Nothing or no one could stop Jessica Landon from getting what she wanted once she made up her mind.

  Adam Sern popped into her head and Jessica gave a groan. "Go away," she said irritably.

  Hera's ears pricked at the sound of Jessica's voice.

  "It's all right, girl," Jessica soothed. "Just chasing away the demons." But the demons didn't go away. They were there everytime she closed her eyes. Again and again her mind replayed the scene at the train. It wasn't so much that he had kissed her, other men had done so before. But she had never enjoyed a man's kiss, not like she had enjoyed Adam's. With a sigh, she curled into a ball and drifted off to sleep with Adam still on her mind.

  Jessica never heard a sound. Suddenly her blanket was pulled off and she was wide awake, frozen with terror. The derringer she'd bought a few days before was tucked out of reach in her bag. Her eyes flew open.

  For a moment she thought she was still dreaming. It was Adam. He was standing over her, his face dark and stoney, her blanket clenched in his hand. By the position of the moon, she could tell she hadn't been sleeping long.

  "Adam?"

  He threw her blanket aside. "What the hell are you doing out here? You're lucky you haven't gotten skinned alive!"

  She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What are you talking about? There aren't any Indians left out here. I read it in the newspaper."

  "You believe everything you read? Not two weeks ago a man and his wife were killed just outside of Logan."

  "Horse thieves. I read about it back in Salt Lake City."

  "Horse thieves, true, but they're Ute and a bad bunch at that. They've got a Kiowa leader called Crooked Nose."

  "The article didn't say it was Indians, just horse thieves," she murmured sleepily.

  "I don't suppose the article told you the man and wife were tortured? It didn't tell you how long that poor woman lived before they finally killed her either, did it?"

  Tears rose in Jessica's eyes and she blinked them away. "How do you know so much?"

  "It doesn't matter." He rested his hands on his hips, staring down at her. "Now tell me what you're doing out here in the middle of nowhere with a beacon fire burning."

  She got up and went to her campfire and picked up a stick to toss into it.

  Adam jerked the wood from her hand and sent it hurling into the air. "Answer me!" he barked in a low, threatening voice.

  "I told you!" She stared at him through the darkness, her jaw set. "I'm going after the outlaws. I'm going to get my carpetbag back and I'm going to kill the man who murdered my brother."

  "That doesn't tell me why you're here."

  Jessica watched him compress his hands into tight fists. "I'm headed for Sharpston, of course. That's where they were last seen. Besides that's where Elmo Shine is. They say he used to ride with them."

  Adam broke into a grin. "You're going to Sharpston, this way?"

  "This is the right way, isn't it?"

  "If you're going to circumnavigate the world. Sharpston is west of Logan, you're headed north. You'd walk right by it."

  Jessica's face grew pale. She swallowed. "Pauline said I could take this trail to Logan and then take the left fork before I hit town."

  "That fork leads north of Logan to Sparkston and that old town has been abandoned for years. Some fools tried their hand at mining, half of them died of cholera and the other half of whiskey." He paused. "Of course they say that's where the Ute horse thieves hole up. Maybe you could ask Crooked Nose if he's seen Shiner."

  Jessica looked away, fighting the lump that was rising in her throat. How was she going to kill Mark's murderer if she couldn't find him? She couldn't track and she was unfamiliar with the territory. If she wasn't murdered by horse thieves, she would likely die of thirst.

  She stared at the dying fire, ignoring Adam who was pouring himself a cup of her coffe
e. The thought occurred to her that she should just give up. She should get on a train in Logan and set out for Seattle. She could join the Wiedenhoefts. They were nice enough people. She might enjoy living with them and their children.

  But when she thought of Mark lying dead on the train seat, blood staining his chest, she knew she couldn't give up. If she couldn't track the Black Bandit down on her own, she'd get help.

  Jessica lifted her eyes to watch Adam settle by the fire. He rested a Jennings repeater rifle across his lap and sipped the coffee from her new tin cup.

  "Well?" he said.

  "Well what?" She watched the light and dark shadows of the fire dance across his bronze face.

  "Well, go ahead and say what you were going to say. I can see your jaw flapping."

  She snapped her mouth shut. What made him so arrogant? What made him think he knew everything? He didn't. He didn't know what the bandit looked like, did he? She took a deep breath. "I was thinking, that since you and I are after the same thing we ought to—well, you know, join up."

  He broke into a grin. "Join up, madam?"

  "Catch the bandit together. They told me down at the depot your job's on the line. They said there was even talk of prosecution. Nobody thinks you're part of the bunch, but they say it won't matter."

  Adam scowled, tossing the remainder of his coffee into the dirt. "Me, take you along? You're joking, right? Too long in the hot sun?"

  Jessica kicked a tuft of grass and dirt sprayed at him, dusting his chest. "I don't appreciate your jokes! You think you know everything. Well, you don't! What you don't know is that you need me."

  "Need you?" He chuckled. "I need a woman on the trail like a coyote needs pockets."

  "Guess I just met the first coyote that needs pockets, because you need me, Adam, like it or not. I can help you catch the Black Bandit."

  "How?" He stretched out, tucking his hands behind his head. "Just for the sake of argument."

  "Let's say you get into Sharpston and the Black Bandit's there. How do you recognize him? How do you know he's not sitting in the barber's chair next to you? He's avoided being caught because no one recognizes him. No one has ever seen his face in a holdup." She paused a moment before dealing her final card. "No one but me."