He turned his back on her and returned to sweeping. She couldn’t help but believe that he hadn’t lied…not about any of it. But based on the set of his jaw and the wounded look in his eyes, neither did she think he’d told her the whole truth.
With a desperation born of shame, Jesse shoveled out the horse droppings in the last stall. He couldn’t believe he’d revealed so much about his life to Amelia. Her innocence had just irritated him.
He’d felt as though she thought everyone had the fairy-tale life she did. Everyone lived in a house with curtains fluttering in the windows and the smell of flowers wafting through the rooms. Everyone was tucked into a soft bed at night and went to sleep with a full stomach.
He’d wanted to shock her, and if the horrified expression on her face was any indication, he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. But the success had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t imagine Mitch Monroe ever did anything except please her.
What had possessed him to reveal all that he had?
It wasn’t Amelia’s fault that no one had deemed him worthy enough to love. It wasn’t her fault that the widow Jones had locked him in that tiny, blackened closet. Of all the places he’d stayed, that had been the worst.
Worse than prison.
Even now it made him shudder to think of it, made him break out in a sweat. He hated small places. Part of the appeal of riding with Pete had been sleeping out beneath the stars, having the wide-open spaces as his home.
Pete had never beaten him, or yelled at him, or made him feel as though he were worthless.
Of course, none of the others had persuaded him to break the law.
He carried the last load of dung out to the field behind the barn. When he returned to the stall, he grabbed up the broom and swept out any bits that remained. As soon as he finished this chore, he’d toss down some fresh hay and be done with it.
He felt a strong urge to apologize to Amelia, but he wasn’t exactly certain what specifically he was sorry for.
For not being the gentleman that her brothers were.
For thinking she was pretty when he had no right to even be looking at her.
For enjoying her conversations even though he detested the questions.
So many things.
Sometimes he felt as though his whole life was an apology.
“Ouch!” Amelia glanced down from the step stool she was standing on to glare at Colleen.
Bent slightly, her hands near Amelia’s waist, Colleen looked up. “Sorry, but if you’d be still, I might have more luck at sticking the pin into the material instead of into your skin.”
“I don’t know why we have to do this today.”
“Because your birthday dance is Saturday, and you’ll be wanting to wear this new dress, won’t you?” Colleen asked.
Amelia rolled her eyes, knowing what her answer would bring. “Yes.”
“All right, then. I have no desire to be sewing into the wee hours of the morning just because you’d rather be out flirting with your father’s ranch hands.”
“I don’t flirt with them,” Amelia said. But her voice lacked the conviction of her words.
“And what do you call it when you smile at them, laugh with them, and talk to them every chance you get?”
“Being friendly?”
Colleen snorted, removed a pin from her waistband, and found another place to stick it in the unfinished gown Amelia was wearing. The material was a frothy green that brought out the color of her eyes and made her feel delicate. The neck was scooped low enough to show the slender column of her throat and the smoothness of her shoulders.
She’d never in her life worn anything so revealing. But then, she’d never before been seventeen and standing on the threshold of womanhood.
“I’m thinking you’ve got them all wrapped around your little finger,” Colleen said.
All except Jesse.
“Are you going to come to my party?” Amelia asked.
“Now, why would I be wanting to do that when all the gents are only going to have eyes for you?” Colleen asked.
“Robert won’t have eyes for me,” Amelia said quietly, watching Colleen’s reaction in the mirror.
Colleen stilled and her cheeks flamed almost as red as her hair. She angled her chin defiantly and met Amelia’s gaze in the mirror. “And why would I be caring about that?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Admit it, Colleen. You fancy him.”
“I’ll admit he’s not so hard on the eyes.” She smiled shyly. “But I’m not certain he has much interest in me.”
“Then you’re not paying enough attention. He hardly takes his eyes off of you while you’re serving dinner.”
“That says it right there, doesn’t it? He’s the lord of the manor, and I’m the serving girl. He might have an interest in giving me a kiss, but not in giving me his name. And I’ve no interest in a man such as that.”
“I think you’re wrong about Robert,” Amelia said.
Colleen clapped her hands. “All done with the pinning. What do you think?”
Amelia recognized that Colleen was not only finished with the pinning, but finished with any discussion about Robert.
Amelia twisted her body first one way, then the other, studying her reflection in the mirror. The gown certainly resembled something that a young woman would wear. She pressed her hand to her bare skin just below her throat. “I’ve never worn anything so daring.”
“I think you look lovely,” Colleen said. “You’ll have the men tripping over themselves to give you attention.”
Strange that she suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about one particular man. The one she knew she had no business getting close to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I spotted the mustang again this morning.”
Jesse fought to ignore the eager voice coming from behind him as he poured oats into the trough in the corral. Every time the judge’s daughter approached him, he risked being sent back to prison. What did it take to make her understand he had no interest in her?
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He did have an interest in her. Too much of one. He just had no desire to go back to Huntsville.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asked.
“I heard.” He shook the last of the oats out of the burlap sack.
“Don’t you want to see him?” she asked.
“Not particularly.” Edging past her, he headed into the barn.
She dogged his heels. “Why not?”
He spun around, and she teetered backward before catching her balance. Her eyes were so large and green, held such innocence. He could easily drown in them.
“I’m supposed to stay away from you,” he reminded her.
“No one has to know. I heard Robert tell Papa this morning that they were going to put you to work repairing the north line shack. The mustang isn’t that far away from where you’ll be working. I’ll bring Duchess and another horse out there around midmorning. We can go see the stallion I’m interested in and be back before Tanner returns to pick you up.”
It sounded simple enough. Besides, he was getting tired of looking over his shoulder and worrying that anything he did might get him sent back to prison. Five years of trying to be good was going to make him old before his time.
“If you just catch a glimpse of the horse,” she said in a soft, pleading voice, “I know you’ll think it’s worth capturing and breaking.”
“Taming,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I tame the horse; I don’t break it.”
Her mouth blossomed into a radiant smile, more beautiful than any he’d ever seen her bestow on Mitch.
“So you’ll do it?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’ll at least come with me and take a look?” she asked.
Gazing into eyes filled with so much hope, what choice did a fella have?
“I’ll take a look,” he told her, not bothering to hid
e his reluctance.
But she seemed unfazed by his lack of enthusiasm.
“You’re going to make me the happiest girl this side of the Mississippi.” She did a little hop as she turned and hurried back to the house.
He just hoped he wasn’t on the verge of making himself the most miserable fella back at Huntsville.
The north line shack was exactly that—a shack. One room. Nothing fancy. Built out on the far side of nowhere.
But as Jesse replaced the planks on the roof, he thought it was a place where a man could feel at home. He wondered what it would take to convince Judge Harper to let him live here instead of in the bunkhouse.
Probably a lot more trust than the judge seemed willing to give him.
He glanced over at the smoke billowing out of the chimney. Strange how the sight added to his contentment.
Riding Starlight, Amelia had arrived earlier. As she’d promised, she’d brought a horse for Jesse. She’d announced that she was going to prepare them something to eat before they headed out to search for the mustang. Jesse had told her that she didn’t need to bother. He had a bit of beef stuffed between two slices of bread that Tanner had given him to see him through the day.
She’d wrinkled up that little nose of hers and disappeared into the shack.
Leaving him to continue working up here with images dancing through his head.
The image of a hot meal in the middle of the day…
A girl cooking it for him…
A pretty girl inside the shack, cooking, while he was outside hammering a new roof into place…
The kind of life he’d dreamed about before prison. The kind of life he’d thought he could have if he only had enough money jangling in his pockets. The kind of life he’d thought he could purchase.
The kind of life he was beginning to realize a person had to earn.
And he’d certainly done nothing to earn it.
“Jesse!”
He gazed over his shoulder. Amelia stood away from the porch, her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. His gut clenched. She shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here with her.
“Are you ready to eat?” she called up.
If he were smart, he’d stay where he was and tell her he’d changed his mind. But the appeal of a meal with Amelia had him nodding and scooting toward the ladder. He stepped onto the first rung. The ladder wobbled and stilled.
He looked down. Amelia held the ladder to steady it. It was such a little thing, but still it made his chest ache.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to forget that his past prevented him from ever getting tangled up in her future.
He climbed down the ladder, his body brushing against hers as he reached the bottom. She released her hold on the ladder and quickly stepped back.
“I fried up some chicken,” she said. “I thought we’d eat it over here in the shade.”
She’d arranged a quilt beneath the boughs of one of the oak trees surrounding the shack.
Nodding, he rubbed his hands up and down on his britches before heading toward the quilt. He went to sit down and stopped abruptly. He remembered how he hadn’t waited during the picnic that day they’d gone to Fort Worth.
He glanced over at Amelia. She gave him a shy smile and held out her hand daintily, as though she expected him to take it. He rubbed his hands on his thighs again. He wrapped his fingers around hers and helped her sit on the quilt.
Her hand was almost the softest thing he’d ever encountered—her lips the only thing softer. Even now, days later, he still remembered the gentle brush of her mouth over his cheek.
Against his browned fingers, her hand looked as pale as cream and incredibly fragile. His hand practically swallowed hers. Noticing the differences made him feel strong, and yet at the same time humble. Humble that she was inviting him to a picnic when no one else was around.
When they’d picnicked before, her brother and Colleen had been there. It hadn’t seemed intimate or forbidden. But now…
He released her hand as though it had suddenly turned into a snake.
What was he thinking? Nothing special was going on here. She wanted him to look at a horse, and she needed to eat. That was all there was to it. Just like the picnic they’d had before. Just a chance to stop his stomach from rumbling before moving on to other things.
He dropped onto the quilt, grabbed a drumstick, and bit into the succulent meat. The more quickly they ate, the sooner they’d be on their way, and the less time he’d have to spend in her company.
Daintily, she picked up a thigh and began to nibble on the outer crust. He tossed the bones aside and reached for another piece of chicken.
“There’s no posse on our trail,” she said quietly.
He froze. Slowly he slid his gaze to her.
“We don’t have to hurry,” she explained.
“Thought you wanted to go look at that horse.”
“I do, but I’m not in a big rush to do it. Do you like the chicken?”
“It’s fine.”
She smiled slightly. “Colleen fixed it up for me so all I had to do was drop it in the grease.”
He nodded. “That was mighty thoughtful of her.”
“I’m trying to convince her to come to my birthday dance.”
He’d overheard some of the fellas talking about the dance since she’d mentioned it at the corral. Everyone was anticipating dancing with Amelia.
“When we went to Fort Worth, it seemed like you were friends. Why wouldn’t she go?” he asked.
She shrugged slightly, drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. “We are friends. But she’s fond of Robert.”
Having little experience talking with females, Jesse couldn’t quite figure out what one thing had to with the other. “I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “I think she’s afraid to let Robert know how much she cares for him. Because if he knows, he’ll either let her know that he cares for her as well or he’ll let her know that he doesn’t care for her at all. So she’s afraid of getting hurt.”
It still made no sense. But then love wasn’t exactly an area he’d explored before.
He took a bite of chicken, chewing more slowly, savoring the flavor and the company. What would it hurt—as long as they weren’t caught—if he did take his time eating?
“Does anyone know you’re here?” he asked.
She slid her gaze over to him and shook her head slightly. “I trust you.”
He curled his lip. “That could prove to be a big mistake.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Amelia couldn’t figure out why Jesse was trying to frighten her. She wondered if he’d built a wall around his heart, and when someone started to chip away at it, he got scared.
“You won’t hurt me,” she announced.
“I could.”
“But you won’t.”
Rather than confirm her suspicions, he stretched out on his side, rose up on his elbow, and picked up another piece of chicken. “Think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
“Not really. But if you were going to hurt me, you would have done it that day at the fence.”
He squinted into the distance. “Any idea how far away the Oklahoma territory is?”
“Not far enough. Besides, my brothers would find you. Papa wasn’t lying when he said they were good trackers. Then you’d go back to prison. Do you prefer Huntsville?”
Silently, he shook his hanging head.
“What’s it like to be in prison?” she asked. She’d asked before, but she was hoping that this time his answer would be different.
He met her gaze. “You really don’t want to know.”
She was frustrated by his unwillingness to confide in her. Perhaps because he didn’t feel as though she trusted him.
She set her chicken aside and wiped her greasy fingers on a towel she’d brought. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and rested her chin on her upraised knees.
“I’
ve never told anyone, and I don’t know why I’m telling you, but I want to practice law when I’m old enough to sit before the examination board.”
He looked as though a good, strong wind would knock him flat on his back.
“A lawyer?” he asked with derision.
She nodded. “I want to represent those charged with a crime.”
He barked out his laughter. “Why would you want to do that? Because you want to go up against your father?”
She furrowed her brow. “Why would you think I’d be going against my father?”
“He sends men to prison. Sounds like you want to stop them from going to prison.”
“A judge doesn’t send men to prison. They send themselves.”
“I’m not the one who handed down a ten-year sentence—”
“But you’re the one who robbed banks,” she interrupted. “You can’t blame a judge because you ended up in prison.”
He tossed the chicken aside and wiped his hands on his britches. “We gonna go look for that horse or sit here jawin’ all day?”
“I prefer to let my meal sit for a while,” she lied. “So I guess we’ll jaw for a few more minutes.”
The truth was that she wanted to talk with him a little longer.
“What were you thinking while you were robbing that bank?” she asked.
“That I hoped I didn’t get caught.” He was staring hard at his clasped hands.
Reaching out, she trailed her finger along one of the scars on his wrist. He jerked his hand back and glared at her. She imagined that hard-edged look would have frightened just about anyone. It probably should have frightened her.
But he’d been so gentle with Duchess. A truly terrible person wouldn’t treat an animal that kindly. Jesse Lawton had a spark of goodness buried somewhere inside him. She decided it was probably buried deeply, but she couldn’t help but believe it was there.
Like a pearl hidden inside an oyster. Its beauty was created from the grime at the bottom of the ocean. And Jesse’s life didn’t seem to have been much more than dirt and squalor.
“What were you thinking?” she prodded.
Shaking his head, he looked away.
“Were you scared?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“You could have gotten killed,” she pointed out.
“Didn’t have anything of worth to give up,” he said quietly.
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