"It'll be dark soon. The horses are beat."
Adam sunk his heels into Zeus' flanks and the horse broke into an easy trot. He knew that what Jess said made sense, but he wanted to put as much distance between them and the outlaws as possible. He felt so damned guilty. He should never have brought Jessica along. It could have been her that had been hit, been killed. So what if she could identify Larry Caine? It was Adam's responsibility to catch the outlaw, not some young woman's. He had never needed anyone's help before. What had made him think he needed hers? "I said we move on," he called to her gruffly.
Jessica caught up, riding beside him. She knew a fever could keep a man from thinking straight. "All right, we'll ride a little farther, but let's start looking for a place to camp. I'm tired even if you aren't."
"Don't patronize me!"
She studied him through the fading light of early evening. What was it in his past that makes him so bitter? she wondered. She had a sudden urge to reach out to him, to comfort him.
They rode for another hour in silence. Occasionally, Jessica spotted a sight that looked suitable for camping, but Adam just rode on, ignoring her. As the sun was setting behind the mountain they climbed, they rode into a small, grassy clearing.
"How about here? I can hear water."
Adam made no reply.
Jessica reined Hera in and patted the horse's neck. It was a perfect spot. She turned to speak to Adam again, just in time to see him neatly knocked off his horse by a low-lying branch.
"Adam!" She leaped off Hera and ran to his side. She knelt and brushed his shiny dark hair off his cheek. He was burning with fever. "Adam?"
"Just keep moving," he managed. "Keep riding."
She nodded. "Right. You'd leave me behind, wouldn't you?"
He opened his eyes and then closed them again. "I might," he croaked.
"I almost believe you," she answered. "You're right, you know. I should be the one leaving you. What do I care what happens to you? It's your fault Mark's dead." She heard her own words, but she felt different about them than she had a few days ago.
Jessica stood abruptly. She caught Zeus, then Hera arid Shiner's mount and tied them on short lead lines to trees. Then she began to unload their bags. She debated whether or not to build a fire, but decided one was necessary if she was going to brew some sort of tea to bring down Adam's fever. She gazed up at the trees that stretched high into the sky. The foliage was so dense here in the mountains that she was certain no one would see the smoke or even the flames from any distance. It was a chance, but she decided to take it.
She built a small, hot fire and then went through the woods in search of the stream she heard bubbling in the distance. She felt at home here in the mountains which were much like the Smokies her grandparents had lived in. The only difference seemed to be the altitude. Jessica still found herself short of breath on occasion, but she was adjusting.
After leading the three horses to the stream to drink, she put her coffeepot of water on to boil. Adam remained unconscious, but she managed to roll him onto his bedroll to get him off the damp ground. Making a small torch to light her way, she picked through the grass and weeds nearby, searching for plants she recognized. What Adam needed was a good strong herbal tea to bring down the fever. With that and a poultice on his gunshot wound, he'd be as good as new in a few days.
Much of the plant life was different from what Jessica was familiar with in Tennessee, but she managed to find several plants that she thought were what she needed or close to it. To her delight she found several sprigs of what her grandmother had always called "sow's tail," a guaranteed remedy for a fever. Returning to the camp, she began to boil the leaves and strips of bark she'd gathered.
When the brew was strong enough, she sat on the ground and lifted Adam's head, cradling it in her lap. "Adam."
He stirred.
"Adam, listen to me. I want you to drink this."
She brought her coffee cup to his lips, but he pushed it away. "No," he mumbled. "Got to get you out of here, Jess. Can't see you hurt. My responsibility . . . my fault, not yours."
She spoke sharply. "Adam! Drink this or I'll pour it down your throat. I haven't got time to be a nursemaid. I've got a man to track!"
Sure enough, her harsh words brought him out of his fugue. "You're pushy," he muttered, taking a sip of the tea. "You're too pushy for a woman and this stuff tastes like piss."
She laughed. "Drink it. All of it and then I need to look at your shoulder. It's bleeding again."
Slowly Adam drained the cup and then laid his head back, closing his eyes again.
"Oh, no you don't. You can't sleep yet." Jessica set down the cup. "I want you to roll onto your side so I can look at the exit wound. You're lucky the shot went straight through."
"I don't feel lucky," he answered drowsily. "I can't believe I got shot. It's my own fault. I should have been thinking about what I was doing instead of thinking about you."
"Oh, so it's my fault." She went to the fire and brought back the poultice she'd concocted and a pan of hot water. "I didn't ask you to look after me. I can take care of myself, take care of you, too, it seems."
He closed his eyes. "Christ, you've got a mouth. Why did I have to join up with a woman with a mouth?"
"Because you need me." She dipped a square of cotton rag into the hot water and pressed it to his shoulder.
"Ouch! That's hot."
"You want to lose your arm? I can amputate, you know. I sawed off a leg when I was sixteen."
"What's a girl from Tennessee doing amputating limbs?"
"Actually it was a goat leg, but my grandma said it's the same principle with a man."
"Terrific. I've got a goat mutilator nursing me."
"You sound better already." She eased him onto his back. "I told you my tea was good for you."
Adam rolled onto his side. He didn't like lying here so vulnerable like this. Jessica's touch felt too good against his skin. "Horses taken care of?"
"Watered and tied. There's plenty to eat, so I didn't give them the oats. Thought I'd save them."
"Wise."
"I'm not entirely stupid, Adam." She wrapped his shoulder carefully with a strip of cloth she'd torn from his spare shirt in his saddlebag.
"No," he murmured, catching a lock of her hair. "I don't suppose you are." He brought the hair to his lips and she paused, her green eyes settling on his face. "Sweet," he murmured. "You smell so sweet."
His voice was a soft caress that made her tremble inside. "Get some sleep," she whispered. "You'll be stiff, but much better by morning. The bleeding stopped and there's no sign of infection." He released her hair and she stood. She offered him a smile and then walked away, utterly confused by the energy, the tenderness that had just passed between them.
Jessica poured the remainder of the tea into her cup and set it aside for morning. She refilled her coffeepot with water and ate another biscuit and a strip of beef while she waited for her coffee to brew. When it was hot and fragrant, she poured the coffee into Adam's cup and stretched out on her bedroll to relax.
When she had retrieved Adam's cup and shirt she had been tempted to look through his saddlebags. She was interested to know what a man like him carried. It somehow seemed like a reflection of the person to know what they packed when they set off on a journey.
Jessica pulled off her boots and warmed her feet by the fire. Though it was summer, it was cool at night high in the mountains. She curled up, thinking of the items she had packed that night she and Mark had slipped out of Jacob's house, that night she'd fled his bedroom.
She'd taken the money, money that was rightfully hers, from Jacob's safe. That was what she and Mark had intended to buy their farm with. But she'd also taken the tintype of her mother, her father's watch, and the stack of recipes written on scraps of paper in her grandmother's flowery handwriting. Those were the things that were dear to her, and those were the things she wanted back if Larry Caine still carried them.
Jessica took a sip of coffee, then looked at the cup. It seemed rather intimate to her to be drinking from a man's cup . . . from Adam's. She glanced across the fire at him.
He lay sleeping peacefully, his saddle blanket thrown over him. By the light of the fire she could see his chest rising and falling evenly. She could also see his face. The color of his skin still fascinated her. It was beautiful. She remembered the conversation she and Kat had had that day on the train and smiled. God, he was handsome. Not handsome like Jacob Dorchester, not pretty. Adam Sern was striking. He was utterly masculine.
She watched Adam's lips part as he breathed and she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him again, to be kissed.
"Oh, God," she moaned aloud. "What's wrong with me?" The altitude, she thought. It's affecting my brain. She took another sip of coffee and then lay back, resting her head on her saddle. Adam's rifle was within arm's reach.
She closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift over the day's events—anything to take her mind off Adam Sern and her obvious, wicked desire for him.
She thought of Elmo Shine. She didn't know if he'd really been a Texas Ranger, but he'd fought like one. She only wished he hadn't had to die. As her mind replayed the scene, as she saw Shiner running toward her, the blood covering his chest, tears rose in her eyes.
She had killed a man today. She'd shot him in the chest and watched him fall back, dead before he hit the ground. That realization made her tremble. It was frightening to think that she had killed a man. He had gunned down Shiner and she would have been next. She'd had no other choice. But would she have done it a few weeks ago, a few days ago? It was hard to believe that her life had changed so drastically in the last few weeks, and all because of men who tried to control her—Papa, Jacob, Larry Caine, even Adam.
Her gaze settled on Adam's sleeping form. She wasn't afraid of Jacob. She wasn't afraid of the Black Bandit. But Adam? Adam frightened her. He frightened her because somewhere deep inside he touched her in a way no one had ever touched her before.
Chapter Nine
Jessica woke to the smell of bacon frying and the sound of it sizzling in the pan. She opened her eyes, surprised to see Adam crouching beside her, turning breakfast with a fork.
She yawned. "Adam?"
He turned to her, a smile on his face. He had his right arm in a sling made from the remainder of his shirt she had torn up the night before to make his bandage. "I thought you'd sleep 'til noon."
"Noon?" She ran her hand through her tangled hair. "It's barely sunup. How long have you been awake?"
"A few hours." He watched her as she brushed the sleep from her eyes. There was something about her that drew him to her . . . something about the way her hair fell gloriously disheveled over her shoulder. "I'm not one to sleep long."
She pushed herself up on her elbows to get a better look at his bandages. "No bleeding in the night? Fever gone?"
"I feel fine. Whatever that slimy potion was you gave me, it killed the fever. I gagged the rest of it down this morning."
"It will keep away the infection, too. It was a recipe of my grandmother's."
"My grandmother, She-who-speaks-softly, used to fill me with rotgut like that when I was a child." He shrugged, a nostalgic smile on his lips. "Funny, I never got sick."
Jessica looked up at him, her hand still resting gently on his bandaged shoulder. He had made no move to back off. He just watched her. A strange, exhilarating charge filled the morning air.
"What do you want of me?" she finally whispered. She could feel his light breath on her cheek. His nearness was intoxicating.
"I don't know, Jess." He traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. "I tell myself I want nothing from you or anyone else, but"—he drew in his breath—"there's a bond between us. You feel it, don't you?"
"I feel it," she answered in a half whisper.
Adam smiled, cupping her chin. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers, brushing his lips. "No good could come of it."
"We shouldn't," she heard herself respond as she wove her fingers through his sleek shining hair. "I mustn't." But as the words slipped from her mouth she was already pulling him to her. She met his gentle, exploring kiss hesitantly, but as the heat rose in the pit of her stomach she parted her lips. Adam's kiss deepened and she clung to him. He tasted like the mountains, moist and clean, and wild. When his hand touched her breast, she gave an audible sigh. She twisted her tongue, delving deep, wanting more. It had never been like this with Jacob; he had never made her blood race hot and cold through her body. With Jacob she had only felt unclean.
"Adam, please," she whispered against his lips. "I—I can't. Please don't." She laid her hand on his and he lifted his head. His hair, the color of a winter midnight, hung in a curtain about his face. She stroked his stubbled cheek as she let her eyes drift shut, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know how to explain . . ." She looked away, still breathless. How could she have been so brazen? She had no one to blame but herself. She'd asked for this. Any man would have responded the same.
"It's all right, Jess," Adam murmured, kissing the lobe of her ear. His voice was hoarse.
"No, it's not all right." She turned to look back at him. "It isn't all right, Adam," she repeated insistently. "I didn't mean for this to happen again. I don't want it to."
He sat back so that they were no longer touching. So that he could think. Nothing made any sense. What was he doing kissing her, touching her, making himself feel like this inside? Nothing but pain could come of it. That was all he had ever gotten from anyone but his parents and grandparents and they were dead.
"I'm sorry," he said roughly. "I shouldn't have—"
She got up, not wanting to hear his gentle words. "Let's not talk about it, Adam. There's nothing to talk about. It was a mistake." She turned the bacon that was beginning to burn. "Let's just make sure it doesn't happen again."
He nodded. "All right, Jess." He got to his feet. "Let's eat and then head for Sharpston."
"We're not going back to the logging camp?"
He poured her a cup of coffee and then one for himself. "What do you think the chances of them being there are?"
"Not good, hmm?"
"Lousy. Our Black Bandit's not a man to stand and fight when he can run. We need to go back for supplies and I should send a wire to Union Pacific and let them know we're on Larry Caine's trail. They'll want to know his identity, anyway."
"I think we should ride back to the camp."
"I'm in charge of this operation." He bit into a slice of crispy bacon. "I say where we go and when. You don't like it, you can ride alone."
Jessica drained her coffee cup and dropped it into her saddlebag. She saddled Hera, then rolled up her bedding and tied it behind the saddle with her new leather bags.
Adam watched as he sipped his coffee and finished off the rest of the bacon. "What are you doing?"
She removed her coffeepot from the embers and poured the remainder of the dark brew in the grass. Dropping the pot into her saddlebag, she untied her Appaloosa and mounted.
"I said, where are you going?"
"Back to the mining camp."
"You can't go alone." He stomped the coals of the fire, kicking dirt on them to put it out.
"Watch me." Jessica slipped her pistol into the waistband of her skirt and started Hera back down the mountain.
Adam muttered an oath beneath his breath as he watched her disappear into the trees. Disgusted, he packed up his share of the camp. He had a little difficulty mounting Zeus with only one hand, but he finally managed. "I ought to just let her go," he told Zeus as he caught Shiner's horse's lead line and tied it to his saddle. "If I had a lick of sense, I'd just let her go!"
When Jessica and Adam approached the logging camp midmorning, it quickly became apparent that the hideout was abandoned. There were two shallow graves in the soft humus in front of the log cabin.
"It looks like you and Shiner got two," Jessica said, dismounting. She pulled h
er derringer from her skirt and started for the cabin. "I'll have a look inside."
Adam's first impulse was to go with her, but he forced himself to remain astride. If Jessica was going to travel with him, he had to know what she was made of. He had to know she could stand on her own ground. Besides, he was fairly certain the cabin was empty.
A minute later she stepped back into the sunlight, visibly shaken.
"What is it?" Adam called.
"Nothing. Nothing but this." She held up a sheet of paper taken from her own carpetbag. Scrawled across her grandmother's recipe for shortcake was a note.
"What?" Adam rode up beside her. "A note?"
She nodded. "It says, 'Back off, redskin, or you're a dead man."
Adam took the paper from her trembling hands. "The paper's yours?"
"Out of my carpetbag." She took it back when Adam was done with it. "He's still got my bag, I just know it."
Adam rested a hand on his sinewy thigh. "Let's get up the hill. We'll bury old Shiner and then get into town. We'll spend the night, get provisions in the morning, and then ride out."
"Which way?"
"West," Adam answered.
Jessica mounted and then reined in beside Adam. They rode up the hill side by side. "Why west?"
He shrugged. "Just a feeling."
"A feeling?" She gave a laugh. "Not a lot to go on, is it?"
"Got any better ideas?"
She ducked a low branch. "No."
"You don't have to go with me. You could catch a train out of Logan tomorrow or the next day." He glanced down at the ground. "Look, old Shiner's rifle."
She dismounted, retrieving the Henry repeater and remounted. "I'm not giving up. I killed a man yesterday, Adam. It's too late to turn back."
He gave a nod. "All right, but count this as your warning. We get into Idaho, which is my guess where we're headed, you won't be able to just hop on a train."
Jessica rode up to where Shiner lay and dismounted again. She pushed his rifle into her saddlebag, assuming she'd inherited it because Adam already had a rifle. "Consider this conversation closed. Now let's get this man buried and get to town."
In Close Pursuit Page 9