In Close Pursuit

by Colleen French

  "Jacob Dorchester." She paused. There was so much to tell Adam now that the time had finally come. She wasn't certain where to start. "Jacob was a banker in the town near my papa's farm. I've known him since we moved to Tennessee from Philadelphia. He . . . uh . . . advised my father on money matters. He made several bad investments for my papa, but Papa always trusted him. Jacob, he . . . he always liked me, even before his wife died."

  "He liked you."

  Her voice was barely a whisper. "When I was younger, he was always trying to get me alone. Once he tried to touch me, but I screamed and Mark came into the room."

  "You never told your father?" Adam demanded.

  She shook her head, fighting the tears behind her eyelids. "I figured it was my fault somehow. I was too embarrassed." She looked up at Adam, her eyes pleading that he understand. "Jacob was a very important man in town. Who would have believed a thirteen-year-old girl?" She paused and then went on. "Besides, he never actually did anything. He just made me feel funny. He scared me."

  "Get on to the husband part."

  "When Papa became ill, there got to be problems with cash before the fall harvest. Jacob managed to get him a loan through the bank."

  "At a healthy rate of interest, no doubt," Adam offered sarcastically.

  "I don't know about that. Papa refused to let me know anything about his finances. He said it wasn't a woman's worry. So anyway. There was a blight, the crops were poor, and Papa needed more money, only Jacob said the bank wouldn't want to lend anymore without a cosigner on the paper."

  "The husband part, Jess. . . ."

  "I'm getting to it," she said impatiently. "You see Jacob had asked Papa to let him marry me several times, starting before his wife was actually dead. Then when this business with the loan came up, Jacob offered to cosign if Papa would agree to the engagement. He didn't actually say it, but that's what it came down to."

  "He used you as collateral on a loan?"

  She jumped down off the bunk and began to pace, wishing the cabin wasn't so tiny. Adam seemed to be bearing down on her, making it hard for her to think. "No, I wasn't collateral. You see! This is why I didn't tell you. I knew you wouldn't understand."

  "I understand perfectly," Adam ranted. "Your father sold you."

  "No, it wasn't like that. Papa loved me." She took three steps, turned, and took three more. "He wanted me to marry Jacob anyway. He knew he was dying and he thought Jacob would be a good provider. That's what fathers think of, you know."

  "Just out of curiosity, how old is this Jacob?"

  "I don't know! Probably fifty by now."

  "I thought so, the perverted louse."

  Jessica stopped her pacing in front of Adam. "Papa was worried about how Mark and I would get along after he died. Papa thought he was doing the right thing in seeing that I was cared for."

  "So you married Jacob?"

  "No!" Her eyes held his. "You have to say you believe me, Adam, or there's no need to go on."

  "I believe you," he answered sincerely. "Go on with your story."

  "Well, Papa announced the engagement. The bank gave him the loan, and everything was fine for a while. Jacob escorted me to a picnic, a party or two. He never did any more than give me a few sloppy kisses. But he was insanely jealous and I hated the way he was so possessive of me. I told him I wouldn't marry him, but he didn't seem to hear me. Then Papa died and everything happened so fast. Just the sale of the horse herd was enough to pay back the bank loans, but Jacob insisted on selling the farm. He moved Mark and me in with him and set a wedding date before I had a chance to think. He was going to send Mark to a military boarding school."

  "So you ran away instead of marrying him?"

  She walked to the door and leaned her back against it, closing her eyes to shut out the memories. "Jacob got strange after Papa died. He didn't treat me the same. One night he told me being engaged was the same as already being wed. He came to my bedroom and he tried to—" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I told him I'd cut it off if he touched me!"

  Adam gave a laugh. "Good for you, sweetheart."

  "So, anyway, he stomped out of the room, but he'd said he'd come back and the next time I'd keep quiet and do as he said or he'd make me. I was so scared, I woke Mark. We stole the cash from the sale of Papa's farm out of Jacob's safe." She looked up. "It hadn't been deposited yet. I took a few things Jacob had let me bring from the house, we took the Appaloosas, and then we left."

  "For Washington territory?"

  "Yes. We saw a travel brochure in the train station. We figured he'd never look for us there and the climate was right for apple trees."

  Adam got up off the bunk and went to Jessica, taking her unresponsive form into his arms. "Christ, Jess, why didn't you tell me? You had me thinking you had a husband out there."

  She sniffed. "I felt stupid"

  "Why?"

  "I don't know why! Because I shouldn't have let him sell the farm. I should never have let him move me into his house. I should never have let Papa agree I'd marry him."

  "Your father was wrong. It wasn't your fault."

  She lifted her arms and wrapped them around Adam's neck. "Papa loved me. He thought he was doing the right thing. It wasn't his fault."

  "It was his fault." Adam lifted her chin so that he could stare into her teary eyes. "Jess, just because the man made some stupid mistakes doesn't mean you can't still love him. You wouldn't believe the things my grandparents did for my sake that hurt me. That still hurt me."

  "Oh, Adam." She hugged him tight. "What am I going to do? Jacob . . . he's following me. He sent that horrible man to kidnap me. He says I have stocks of his. I don't know what he's talking about. I didn't steal any stock certificates!"

  "You spoke to him?"

  "At the train station the night we arrived."

  "Thieves, hmmm?"

  "I'm sorry. I didn't want to lie to you."

  "You didn't want to tell the truth either."

  When Jessica made no reply, he led her back to one of the lower bunks and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. He smoothed her hair, brushing his lips across her cheek. He was so relieved she wasn't married. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  "Come on now, no more tears," he said in a low, soothing voice. "Mr. Dorchester is sure as hell not following you to Alaska. We'll take care of Caine and then we'll go back to Seattle. If Dorchester is still there, I'll have a talk with him. I'm sure I can convince him to take the next train back to Tennessee."

  Jessica wiped her tears on Adam's shirtsleeve, relieved that she had finally been able to tell Adam about Jacob. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

  Adam caught her chin with his hand and brought his lips down to hers. "Only if I have to sweetheart. Only if I have to."

  "It's all over the papers, Jessica," Jacob chided, reading Theodore Lansing's article on the female sharpshooter published in the Seattle Daily Times. "Everyone's going to know you were a naughty, disrespectful, unappreciative girl."

  "I told you, the name's Gloria, not Jessica," Gloria Riley said with a bored yawn as she flipped through the pages of a magazine. She was stretched out on her iron bed, dressed in black stockings and a red corset. Around her neck, she wore a lavender silk scarf. "Your hour's nearly up. I told you, I take the cash whether you take the services or not."

  Jacob glanced over the newspaper at the whore's painted face. He didn't like it when his Jessica wore all of that red rouge on her cheeks and lips. He liked her fresh and clean, the way she used to look when she'd been riding her father's horses in the open fields. He glanced out the window. He missed home. It was too cold here. Why didn't his Jessica just come home? Once they were married properly, once he had the stock certificates, everything would be fine. He wouldn't be angry with her anymore. The money he would make off the stock certificates, now that the South African diamond mine had started producing, would make him a millionaire. He'd take Jessica on a tour of Europe.


  The wind howled unmercifully outside, rattling the windows of the cheap tenement house. Jacob looked back at the whore lying unclothed on the bed. "Will you marry me?"

  Gloria laughed. "Not on your life. Not even if your breath don't stink. Me, I'm a girl that likes her independence."

  Jacob folded the newspaper in the proper creases and laid it on his coat so that he would be certain to take it when he left. "Jessica, Jessica, why do you fight me so? I only want what's best for you. It's all your father and I ever wanted. What would a girl like you do with all of that money?" He sat down on the corner of the bed and the mattress sagged.

  "Listen, mister. Your time's almost up. You want to do the dirty deed or not?" She tossed aside her magazine with exasperation. It was cold in the room and she wondered if he would tip her. The extra money might buy more coal. It was going to be a cold night. She and her little boy, Manny, who stayed downstairs with Mrs. Caraway when Gloria was entertaining would need all of the coal she could buy them.

  Jacob reached for Gloria's dark brown hair and brushed it back off her face. Gloria lay back and spread her legs. "Five minutes," she said, glancing at the small clock on the table next to her bed. "Best enjoy it while you can, buster."

  He stretched out over her, fully clothed and pushed down her corset. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked. "Oh, Jess, I've dreamed of this." He fumbled with the buttons on his pants, not bothering to pull them down.

  Gloria glanced at her clock. "Four minutes."

  Jacob released his engorged member from the confines of his pressed pants and pushed into her with a grunt.

  Gloria stared at the water-stained ceiling as the gray-haired gentleman pumped up and down for thirty seconds and then spilled his seed into her with a satisfied groan. He collapsed on top of her, resting his smooth-shaven cheek on her breast. "Time's up," she declared, trying to push him off her. She wanted to get cleaned up in time to take her little Manny for a decent supper at one of the saloons before the place got too rowdy.

  When Jacob made no move to get off her, she pushed him harder. "I said, time's up, buster. Pay for another half hour or get your rump out of my bed!"

  Jacob lifted his face from her breast. Sweat beaded above his upper lip. "It's a husbandly right, Jessica." His face was oddly contorted.

  Gloria tried to slide out from under him. The man hadn't made a lick of sense since he'd spoken to her down on the street, but he'd seemed harmless. He'd been clean and he'd agreed to pay her ahead of time, so she'd brought him up to her room. He'd insisted on using a back door, to be certain no one saw him. Gloria assumed he had a wife. Didn't they all?

  "I said get off me, or I scream for help," she threatened.

  Jacob grabbed a handful of her hair and at the same moment caught the scarf around her neck and jerked it tight. "Don't talk to me like that. I don't like it when you talk like that, Jessica."

  Gloria clawed at the silk scarf that was blocking her airway. She tried to kick or push the man off her, but he was an amazingly strong man, despite his age. She made a wheezing sound. She knew the man was killing her. All she could think of was her little Manny. Would he get his supper tonight if she died?

  "Do you hear what I say?" Jacob twisted the scarf around his hand, drawing it even tighter. His Jessica's eyes were fluttering. Her face was turning bluish. But she had a strong constitution. She didn't give in easily. He had to be sure she'd learned her lesson. He wanted her to tell him where the stock certificates were. He wanted her to agree to marry him immediately.

  Gloria ceased to struggle. Her body convulsed beneath Jacob's once, then a second time, and then she went limp. He lowered his head to her breast for a long moment. Her chest was no longer rising and falling. Slowly he loosened his grip on her scarf. "Oh, Jessica, my little Jessica . . . I've done it again, haven't I, my love?"

  With a sigh, Jacob climbed off the bed. He buttoned his pants and ran his hands down the legs to smooth the rumpled material. When his clothes were properly straightened he went to his coat and removed his silver pocket knife. He returned to the bed, knelt, and cut a lock from the dead girl's hair. He sat on the corner of the sagging mattress and carefully braided the sable brown lock until it formed a small ring. Tucking away a few stray hairs, he leaned over the bed and took the girl's hand.

  "You see, we really are married," he murmured as he slipped it onto her finger. "The fact that we haven't got a silly piece of paper is of little importance. You are my wife, my dearest." He held her hand for a moment, then sighed. It was no use. He got up to put on his hat and coat.

  Jacob knew deep in his heart that this wasn't his Jessica, not really, none of them had been his real Jessica. But his real Jessica was out there somewhere and he knew he would find her. He picked up the copy of the Daily Times and tucked it under his arm as he went out the door and headed down the back hallway. Theodore Lansing, that was the man he needed to see; he would know where his wife had gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Harrisburg, Alaska Territory

  October 1882

  Jessica stood on the dock, shuddering with cold as she waited for Adam. The wind was howling and snow was blowing in spirals, making it difficult for her to see. Still, it felt good to be on solid land again. Though Jessica had been lucky in that she hadn't been seasick aboard the steamer, she had grown tired of the ceaseless rocking, sometimes tossing, of the boat.

  She turned away from the inlet and squinted, staring through the white curtain of snow. Harrisburg didn't seem to be much of a town. The dock was rickety. There were no streets or order to the few buildings that were strung out between the water and the mountains beyond. There was no sign of life in the town. Even the few passengers that had disembarked from the Marissa had disappeared.

  Adam came up behind Jessica and laid his hand on her shoulder. She jumped, startled. "Did you find out about a place for us to stay?" she asked.

  "What? I can't hear you!" He cupped his hand to his ear. There was a piece of tin roofing that had come loose off the nearest building and it was buckling back and forth, making a horrendous noise.

  "I said," Jessica shouted, "did you find us a place to stay?"

  He kept his hand on her shoulder, maneuvering her forward, their two bags in his other hand. "There's no hotel! Harrisburg's only been here a year or two. A man by the name of Richard Harris and his partner Joe Juneau apparently hit gold nearby. The captain recommended I talk to Clyde at the General Store." He pointed to a frame house with a partial porch.

  A wooden sign hanging from one of the rafters swung so violently that Jessica couldn't read what it said. Exasperated, she hurried ahead, anxious to get out of the elements and find a cup of hot tea. She pushed open the door to the General Store and walked in. To her surprise she found herself in someone's house. There was a kitchen table, a chest of drawers, closet, and an iron bed.

  Two men sitting around a coal stove glanced up from their checkerboard.

  "Excuse me," Jessica said, flustered. "I didn't mean to walk in on you. Someone told us this was a store." She started to back out, but the older man, a man with a ring of white hair around his balding head, gave a wave.

  "You got the right place, miss. I'm Clyde. What you need?"

  Adam came in the door and closed it behind him. He whipped off his hat and banged it on his knee to knock off the snow. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." He looked around. "Is one of you Clyde?"

  The white-haired man gave a chuckle and slapped his knee. "I was just tellin' the lady. This is the place if you're lookin' for supplies." His eyes narrowed. "What in great heavens of mercy are you two doin' here this time of year?"

  Adam set down his bags and approached the two men. "The name's Adam Sern. I'm a deputy marshal and I'm tracking a man." He shook Clyde's hand and then offered it to the younger man.

  The young one bobbed up. "Johnny Sutterbomb, with Sutterbomb Shipping. Pleased to meet you, Deputy Marshal."

  Clyde motioned to Jessica. "Well, don't just stand th
ere like a maiden on her wedding night! Come over and get warm. Me and Johnny, we don't bite, least not this time of year."

  Johnny's laugh echoed Clyde's.

  Jessica approached the stove slowly, unsure of what to make of the two men. She put out her hands to warm them as she looked around. She supposed the place could be a store, of course it could have been a messy one-room cabin too. There were things piled everywhere, in crates on the floor, on the bed, on the table. A wild assortment hung from pegs on the walls. She saw snowshoes, and long underwear, and pots and pans and strings of mittens, even a cured ham.

  Adam accepted the flask the men offered and he took a sip, grimacing. "Damn, that's awful. Which one of you made it?"

  Johnny laughed. "Clyde says I'd best run it through the distiller again, else it's liable to kill the whole town in one dose."

  Clyde took back the flask and screwed on the cap. "So you're lookin' for a man, are you? What he'd do?"

  "He murdered my brother," Jessica offered.

  Clyde gave a nod. "So what makes you think he's in Harrisburg?"

  "He was on the Lady Yukon that came in last week. We'd have been here sooner, but we hit one bad storm after another on the Marissa."

  Clyde gave a nod. "This killer got a name?"

  "Larry Caine," Jessica answered with distaste. "He's traveling with his brother, Toby. They're brown-haired, with one taller than the other. One would be carrying a blue and gold carpetbag."

  Clyde gave a nod. "Nobody came in here by that description off the Lady Yukon. Course there was several men that got off intending to head north before we got socked in for the winter. Fools." He shook his head. "Lookin' for gold. Hell, there ain't any more than a spit or two of gold in this territory. I told Rick Harris the other day, he's gonna kill himself mining in that quartz."

  Adam shrugged off his wet overcoat and hung it over a chair. "Caine might well have gone off with those miners," he told Jessica. He glanced back at Clyde. "Listen, we're going to be needing a place to stay."