Taming of Jessi Rose

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Yep,” Joth replied softly. “That’s the reason we don’t come to town much. Aunt Jessi says it doesn’t bother her, but I don’t think she’s telling the truth.”

  Griff didn’t think so either. Regardless of how the folks around here felt about Jessi Clayton, she had feelings. She’d also endured a mountain of hell in her life and she deserved better.

  “Do you think you can make them leave her alone?” Joth asked, looking up at Griffin solemnly.

  “I’m going to try my best, cowboy,” Griff pledged gravely.

  Joth nodded and his voice became distant. “Sometimes, at night, when she thinks I’m asleep, she cries. I don’t like it when she cries.”

  Griff didn’t like hearing that either. It reminded him of another woman long ago. She too had cried in response to the terrible hand life had dealt her way. Griff still carried her memory and his grief deep in his heart. “Well, you did the right thing writing to Marshal Wildhorse for help.”

  Joth turned and stared. “How’d you know about that?”

  “He’s the one who sent me.”

  Joth’s eyes widened.

  “But you have to keep it a secret for now. Think you can do that?”

  “Golly, yeah! Does Aunt Jessi know the marshal sent you?”

  “Yes.”

  Joth smiled and said, “Good.”

  Her business with Joth’s teacher now complete, Jessi said her good-byes and went out to join Griffin and Joth.

  As they mounted for the ride home, Joth asked, “Did Mr. Trent say it was okay for me to have school at home?”

  “Yes he did, and he gave me enough lessons to take you through the summer.”

  Joth did’t look happy so Jessi added, “Joth, I know how much you enjoy coming to school, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I know.”

  Jessi added one more negative mark to Reed Darcy’s slate. Although there were some children at the school who gave Joth a hard time, he did have a few friends and she knew he would miss them dearly. “What can I do to cheer you up?”

  “Let me beat you at marbles when we get home.”

  Jessi smiled. “But if I let you win, where’s the victory in that?”

  Joth never got a chance to reply, because as they rode slowly by the Darcy Hotel, they all quieted at the sight of the lone rider who stood waiting for them in the middle of the street. Jessi recognized Clem Davis immediately and her manner turned grim. “Joth, you and Buttercup drop back behind me and Griffin.”

  Without a word, Joth did as he was told.

  Griffin also recognized the man. “What’s a yellow belly like Percy West doing here in Vale?”

  Never taking her eyes off of her enemy, Jessi said, “Percy West? Here, he’s Clem Davis, the man who killed my father.”

  A shocked Griff stared at her cold eyes for a moment, then turned his attention to the man he knew as Percy West and his anger at this town grew even larger. He’d met West some years back, up in Cooperwater, Montana. Griffin and a few friends had been in the town, resting up after a particularly lucrative robbery, when the nineteen-year-old West and his gang of young outlaws rode in and began terrorizing the local citizens. Griffin and his friends had to convince the gang to prey elsewhere, but not before Percy’s seventeen-year-old brother Zeke shot and killed a six-year-old boy. Although Zeke swore the killing had been an accident, he did hang for the deed. Griff doubted the swinging did much to mend the mother’s broken heart.

  Jessi could see folks on the streets watching with much interest, but she had no plans to give them a show. She’d let Davis say whatever Darcy had sent him out here to say and then she, Griff and Joth would head home.

  “Afternoon, Miss Clayton,” Davis said, as they brought their horses to a halt. His young, ferret-thin face sneered smugly at Jessi as he sucked on a toothpick. She supposed his blocking the street was another one of his attempts to intimidate her, but since it was daylight and she didn’t have her back to him, she was fairly certain she had little to fear.

  When she didn’t reply to his greeting, he turned his attention to Griffin and gave him a small smile of recognition. “Mr. Darcy told me you were in town.”

  Griffin’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Well, if it isn’t Percy. Thought you’d’ve gotten religion by now. Last time I saw you, you were hightailing it out of Montana so fast, you didn’t even have time stay for your brother’s trial.”

  The sneering lip curled. “The name’s Davis. Clem Davis.”

  “No, the name’s Percy,” Griff corrected him with a dangerous glint in his faceted eyes. “Percy West. Does Darcy know you’re not using your real name?”

  Clem didn’t reply.

  “Miss Clayton seems to think you shot her pa in the back. That true?”

  Davis put on his most innocent face. “I wasn’t there that night.”

  Griffin didn’t believe him for a moment and wanted to drag him behind a horse until he told the truth.

  Without taking his eyes off of Davis, Griff told Jessi, “A few years back Percy here and some of his friends were running roughshod over a town up in Montana. Percy’s brother Zeke shot a six-year-old boy in the back. He hung for it.”

  “The boy had no business being on the street that day.”

  “He was running for cover when you started shooting up that bank.”

  Davis looked away as if he didn’t want to acknowledge the truthfulness of Griff’s account. “Zeke was drunk.”

  “Jury didn’t seem to think that was much of an excuse. Neither do I.”

  Griffin almost relished the thought of going up against West again. In his mind Percy still owed for that boy’s death even if he hadn’t been the one directly responsible. “Is Darcy paying you enough to tangle with me again, Percy?”

  Davis growled, “Quit calling me that, and yeah, he is. Offering me double pay to get rid of you.”

  “Good. Better start saving it up so you can buy a good casket. I’m sure the undertaker’ll be glad to help you pick one out.”

  “Better pick one out for yourself, Kid. Too bad those redskin friends of yours won’t be here to share it with you though.”

  Griff eyed the young outlaw up and down. West was referring to Two Shafts and Neil July. They had been with Griff during that time in Montana. Two Shafts was part Comanche and Neil was a member of the Black Seminole tribe. Griff hated the word redskins. The slur incensed him just as much as the word nigger.

  In a falsely pleasant voice, Griff replied, “Funny you should mention them. They’ll be here in a few days.”

  The light-skinned West went visibly pale.

  “Yep,” Griff added watching West fight and fail to regain his composure. “Two Shafts and his twin brother Neil are going to be real glad to see you.”

  Griff hoped the news put the fear of God in West. Two Shafts and Neil were known as the Terrible Twins, and it was a name well earned. Griff could tell by West’s furtive eyes that this scenario was not unfolding as West had planned. West was a mercenary. His services and his gun were hired out to the highest bidder, and only rarely did men like him meet resistance. “You sure Darcy’s paying you enough for all this, Percy?”

  “Dammit, stop calling me that!” he snapped like a whining child.

  Jessi hid her grin. Percy was not the most manly name for a hired gun. It seemed a far more suitable moniker for the son of one of the English barons who’d been buying up Texas’s cattle land for the past ten years. Her amusement at his expense only went so far, however. She’d had enough of him for today. “If we’re all done chatting, I need to get home.”

  Griff told her “I’m ready whenever you are, Miss Clayton.”

  Jessi then asked West, “Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Darcy wants him out of town. The sooner, the better”

  “Tell him I don’t care what he wants,” Jessi responded quietly.

  As they turned the reins of their horses to guide them around West, both Jessi and Gri
ff saw West give a quick look up to a window of the hotel. Reed Darcy stood behind the glass. His anger showed plainly.

  Griff waved up at him and Darcy snatched the drapes closed in sharp reply. Wondering who would make her smile when he left for Mexico, Jessi shook her head at Griffin’s nose-tweaking ways and headed them up the street.

  West called out angrily, “Watch your back, Blake!”

  Griff didn’t even bother turning around. “With you in town, I’d be a fool not to. See you around, Percy!”

  Once they left the outskirts of town, everyone seemed to relax. When Joth asked to ride on ahead, Jessi gave him her permission, but only after cautioning him to stay within her sight.

  After he galloped off, Jessi looked over at Griffin. “Our friend Percy looked positively ill when you told him about the arrival of your friends.”

  “And well he should be. They’re known as the Terrible Twins, and they live up to the name, but they’re good men to have on our side”

  “Were they with you when that boy was killed?”

  “Yep They were as mad about it as the jury. The boy was coming home from school when Zeke and a few of his drunken buddies tried to shoot their way into the town’s bank. The boy scrambled for cover but he wasn’t fast enough. Broke that poor mother’s heart.”

  Jessi’s own heart wrenched. It did not surprise her to learn that the man she’d come to know as Clem Davis was no stranger to the sort of violence that had resulted in her father’s death. Knowing that the man responsible for the boy’s death had been brought to justice buoyed her somewhat. Now if she could only bring about justice for her father.

  When they reached the ranch, Joth ran in to get his marbles. In preparation for their weekly contest, Jessi used a stick to draw an oval in the dirt of the empty corral while she waited for her nephew to return.

  Griff, seated on the top rung of the fence, asked, “Do you really play marbles?”

  “Do you really rob trains?”

  Jessi was walking around the oval she’d drawn to make sure it was evenly rendered. “I’ve always loved it. There’s something about watching a boy’s face crumple when I win away his favorites,”

  Griff grinned “Cocky little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Not cocky. Good. Do you play?”

  “Haven’t in years. I was pretty good, though”

  “Then we should play sometime.”

  “So you can watch my face crumple?”

  Jessi’s smile was her only answer.

  Joth returned with a small cloth sack in hand. He rolled the multicolored contents out onto the ground and began to pick out his choices for today’s battle. Jessi went into the house for her own small cache of stones, and upon returning, spent a few moments picking out her choices for the game.

  As the game began it was easy to see that Joth faced an uphill battle. His aunt, braced on her hands and knees in the dirt, was just as good as she’d bragged. After Joth’s first two tries failed to gain him any of her pieces, she proceeded to claim four of his. Even though Griff was rooting for Joth, he found himself concentrating less on the contest and more on the arousing sight of Jessi’s behind as she bent low to execute her shots. He never knew he could be aroused by a woman playing a child’s game, but being around Jessi was beginning to make him rethink many things. Take for example his chosen profession—he knew without a doubt that he’d never rob another train again, mainly because first, after tasting freedom he’d never go to prison again, and second, train robbing had no future. In the old days, gold-carrying express cars had been ripe for the picking.

  When the Reno Brothers up in Indiana pulled off the first train robbery in U.S. history back in ’66, they’d needed nothing more than a few pasteboard masks and their own strong backs. The agent in the express car had even been accommodating enough to leave the door unlocked so they could help themselves to both safes traveling on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad that day. Back then, safe manufacturers placed wheels on the bottoms of their models to ensure easier rolling and also provided thick, sturdy straps on the safes to make it easier for men like Griffin to haul them away. Train robbing had been a thinking man’s profession; you relied on good planning, good men, and a good helping of luck. Creativity helped, too. He’d once robbed a train by sequestering himself in a casket and posing as a corpse. Once the train left the station, Griffin rose from the dead. His resurrection scared the agent in the car so badly the man fainted.

  But now things were changing. Planning no longer seemed to be a factor today. Gangs were simply derailing trains by tearing up lengths of tracks and sending trains and passengers plummeting off mountain passes and bridge spans. Men like the Texan Sam Bass were setting trains on fire. People were dying as a result of such reckless acts and the railroads were retaliating. Security had become the primary concern. The express companies were now protecting their gold with armies of armed agents. The hated but crafty Pinkertons were being employed more and more, making it increasingly hard for men like Griffin to make a living. No, he needed to find something else to do. Modern times had taken all the fun out of robbing a train.

  When Griffin’s mind drifted back to the present, the contest had just concluded. Jessi was crowing and declaring herself the best little marble player in Texas while a grinning Joth tried to maintain his mock pout. He’d lost to his aunt again.

  That evening Jessi sat on Joth’s bed and listened while he said his prayers. As always he asked the Good Lord to say hello to his mother, grandmother, and grandfather. He prayed for Buttercup, his aunt Jessi, Griffin, and Marshal Wildhorse. After he said his amen, Jessi helped him into bed. Marshal Wildhorse was a new name on Joth’s prayer list, so after he settled in, she asked him about it.

  “I’m praying for him because the marshal sent us Griff.”

  “Griff told you about that?”

  “Yes, today while you were inside talking to Mr. Trent. He says I have to keep it a secret for now.”

  Jessi caressed his brow and he pulled back just a tiny bit. She knew it was his way of tactfully letting her know he was getting too old for her to baby. She understood his reaction, but it was hard to let go. “And can you?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  She leaned over and lightly kissed his forehead. “Good night, Joth.”

  He gave her a hug, rolled over and burrowed in. “Night, Aunt Jessi.”

  She blew out the light and headed out the door.

  “Oh, Aunt Jessi?”

  She looked back. “Yes?”

  “I love you, even if you do beat me at marbles.”

  Joy filled her heart. “I love you too, Joth.”

  Jessi found Griffin out on the porch.

  “Is he tucked in?” he asked her.

  “Yes, and he added Marshal Wildhorse’s name to his prayer list tonight.”

  “Dix’ll be glad to hear that. Joth’s praying for one of the best.”

  Jessi had never met Griffin’s marshal friend but hoped she would sometime in the near future. “He said you told him about the marshal sending you here.”

  “I did. Was I wrong to tell him the truth?” Griff sincerely hoped not. He found he liked pleasing her.

  She waved off his fears. “No. What you did was fine.”

  He sighed. “Good, you had me worried for a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “I prefer to stay on your good side. That’s the reason I didn’t shoot Darcy the other day when I had the chance. I knew you’d throw a fit if his dead carcass wound up on your land.”

  She laughed. “You know me well.”

  The first bullet exploded against the porch post only a few inches away from Jessi’s head, and sent both her and Griff frantically scrambling for cover. The second volley tore into the door, hitting wood, glass, and screen, the sounds awakening the night. Jessi kept her head down as more blasts hit, one of which shattered the pane in the parlor window. Moving on her belly, Jessi tried to get to the rifle she usually kept on the porch, but the i
ncoming bullets kept her pinned down. She wanted to raise up to see if she could determine the location of the snipers, but because of the hail of lead she could do nothing but hug the floor of the porch and pray she didn’t get shot.

  Then the firing stopped and the sound of fast-moving horses riding away from the house faded off into the night.

  “Jessi are you okay?” Griff asked anxiously.

  “I think so,” she said, rising slowly, her heart still beating fast. She checked herself to make sure she was still in one piece. The night was now as quiet as it had been before the shooting began.

  “I need to check on Joth.”

  He nodded.

  Jessi didn’t bother viewing the damage to the parlor’s window. Seeing the broken glass would only add more fire to her rising anger. She’d look at it in the morning.

  She found Joth at his window with a rifle in his hand. The sight of him all set to defend his home tore at her insides. No eleven-year-old boy should have to grow up this way.

  “Are they gone?” he asked.

  “Yes. They’re gone.”

  Joth placed the gun back beneath his window and crawled back into bed. “Was it Darcy’s men?”

  “More than likely.”

  “Will he ever leave us alone?”

  Jessi stared down at the little boy with her sister’s eyes and told him the only truth she knew. “I hope so.”

  When she caressed his forehead this time, he did not pull away. “Go on back to sleep, now, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He burrowed down beneath his sheets and she quietly withdrew.

  Jessi stormed out onto the porch. “This has to stop,” she told Griffin. “Joth shouldn’t have to live this way!”

  “I know,” he replied softly. “It’ll end soon. I promise you.”

  Jessi dearly wanted to believe him, but she was by nature a skeptic. Stopping Darcy was going to be akin to stopping a flash flood. Tonight’s visit was only the beginning. If Darcy were indeed as desperate as Auntie believed, all hell was about to break loose, and she and Joth would be in the center of the storm.

  “How many do you think there were?” Jessi asked. It was impossible to verify anything at this point, but she thought she’d heard at least one rifle and one shotgun.