Taming of Jessi Rose

by Beverly Jenkins

  “No more than two or three, I’m guessing. In the morning, we can take a look at the shot in the wood and see. Auntie told me Darcy asked you to marry him.”

  Jessi turned and stared. This was yet another subject she didn’t wish to discuss. “Yes he did, and once I stopped laughing, I told him no.”

  Griff could sense that she didn’t want to discuss Darcy. “Didn’t mean to pry. Just trying to figure out all the angles.”

  “I understand, but I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Griff nodded, but her continued stubborness made him a bit frustrated. “Are you going on to bed?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. After all the excitement, I’m still too wound up. I’m also too angry.”

  She wanted to go into town and give Darcy a dose of his own medicine. It apparently didn’t matter to him that a child slept in her house, but it mattered to her.

  “Then come sit awhile. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Jessi didn’t believe him for a minute, but went to sit beside him on the porch steps. Being near him made some of her tension drain. This man was good for her, she’d come to realize. Even though she knew he would not be staying, having him around made her feel stronger.

  Griff was as angry about the attack as he knew Jessi to be, and in the morning, he planned on going into town and expressing it, but there was nothing they could do about it until then. He looked over at Jessi seated beside him and even though she seemed to have calmed a bit, he could still feel the anger rising off her like waves of heat.

  “You ever think about going back to teaching?” he asked, hoping to distract her enough to get her talking about something else.

  Jessi knew what he was doing and she blessed him for his efforts. “I think about it, yes, but it’ll have to wait until Joth is old enough to run the ranch by himself. The state’s established colleges for members of the race, so I believe I may see if I can teach there when the time comes.”

  Even though Jessi’s father had been cool to the idea of her leaving the ranch while he was alive, Jessi never gave up on the idea of returning to the classroom. The race needed teachers in order to counteract the illiteracy mandated by slavery.

  “Was your husband a teacher, too?”

  The question brought her back. “No. He had dreams of being a politician, but never got the chance.”

  “It’s always hard losing someone you love.”

  She thought about her mother. “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever marry again?”

  “At my age the offers aren’t exactly pouring in, so I doubt it. What about you, will you ever marry?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, if I can find a decent woman who won’t mind my past. Not many mamas approve of their daughters bringing home a once wanted man.”

  Jessi understood that fully. “It isn’t easy being an outcast,” she said quietly.

  Griff knew she was talking about herself. “It has its advantages sometimes, though.”

  Jessi looked skeptical. “In what way?”

  “You find out who your true friends are when you’re an outcast.”

  Jessi had never thought about it in those terms, but she supposed the theory made sense. Very few people had stood up for her during the Calico Bob years. In fact, she could probably count them all on one hand—folks like Gillie and Auntie. They’d loved her her whole life and hadn’t deserted her when times got rough.

  “What do you plan to do once you get to Mexico?” she asked, turning to look at him.

  “Enjoy being free of the life, I suppose. It’ll be nice not having to look over my shoulder all the time for cinder dicks and Pinkertons.”

  Jessi chuckled at the strange word. “What in the world are cinder dicks?”

  “Train police.”

  “Ah.”

  “They don’t have the power to arrest you away from train property, but they can sic a Pinkerton on you.”

  “Why did you start robbing trains?”

  He paused a moment before answering. “Wanted to pay the railroads back for breaking my mother’s heart.” Slowly, hesitantly, he told her about his mother’s dying. He finished by saying, “I still think about her a lot.”

  “Do you think she’s resting easy, knowing you’ve spent your life on the wrong side of the law?”

  It was a question Griff had been asking himself more and more lately, but he knew the answer, always had. “Probably not…definitely not. She was a churchgoing woman who tried to live her life by the Good Book, but the Book didn’t feed us and it didn’t stop her from dying poor.”

  Jessi could hear the bitterness in his voice. Griffin Blake also had dark places in his soul. In that way they were very much alike.

  “I still have her Bible, though,” he confessed. “It’s the only thing she owned when she died.”

  Jessi felt a kindred sadness echo within. “All I have left of my mother is the clock sitting on my nightstand. After she died, my father burned just about everything she owned. He let Mildred and me pick out one thing of hers to keep to remember her by, and the rest, every picture, her dresses, hairbrushes, combs, shoes, everything went into the bonfire he set in her rose garden behind the house. I hold Darcy responsible for that too.

  “He’ll pay Jessi, don’t worry.”

  “But even if he does, it won’t bring her back. Nothing will.”

  Griffin dropped his head sadly. Nothing in his life equaled the pain this lady had suffered. A less strong individual would’ve broken under such weight, but she hadn’t. She’d given up much, but she hadn’t broken. And because she hadn’t, he wanted to take her in his arms and offer her what solace he could, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to be coddled or protected. She wanted justice, plain and simple. In that way she was very much like him. “You’re a very strong lady, Jessi Rose Clayton,” he told her softly.

  “I’m just playing the hand I was dealt, Griffin, nothing more.”

  The next morning Jessi used a knife to pry the bullets out of the porch. She pocketed six that were fired from a rifle and numerous remnants of small black shot that could only have come from a shotgun. The more bullets she pried free, the angrier she became.

  When Griffin came down from his rooftop viewing of the sunrise, he found her prying and muttering angrily to herself.

  “Missed you up on the roof this morning.”

  “I wanted to get this done before Joth got up. I’ll board up what’s left of my window when I’m through here.”

  She reached into the chest pocket of her shirt and tossed him the bullets she’d already freed.

  “Rifle and scattershot,” Griff noted aloud, rolling the evidence around on his palm.

  Jessi declared forcefully, “I’d like to make that West, or Davis, or whatever he’s calling himself today, eat that shot. I don’t mind them shooting at me, but when Joth’s in his room sleeping…” Her angry voice trailed off.

  Griff most certainly agreed. Only a coward would fire on a child. Which was why Griffin planned on going into town today to teach Percy some manners. The sooner Darcy and his hired vermin learned that certain actions were going to be retaliated against, the sooner they’d get the message. “How about I board up the window?”

  She looked up. “That would be fine, thanks. There should be some old wood in the barn.”

  Griffin found it and began nailing the largest pieces to the shattered glass. If he could steal the glass out of the windows of the Darcy Hotel to replace Jessi’s broken ones, he would. Glass was expensive and having it shipped way out here must have made the price even higher. By the looks of the window frame the pane had been in here for quite some time, but it had taken only a second for Darcy’s men to reduce it to shards. One more thing to hold Darcy accountable for.

  All the hammering awakened Joth, and he stepped outside to investigate the goings on.

  “Morning, Aunt Jessi.”

  “Morning, Joth. Breakfast is on the stove.”

  “O
kay. Morning, Griff.”

  Griff paused in his hammering. “Morning, cowboy. Those varmints wake you up last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “The shooting scared me at first, but I’m okay.”

  “Good. When I get back from town, maybe there’ll be time for me to teach you some marble tricks. Can’t have you being beaten by your aunt for the rest of your life.”

  Jessi shot him a humorous look. “And you believe you can change that?”

  “I believe I can.”

  She tossed back, “The two of you couldn’t beat me playing as one. I’ve been the marble champion of Vale my entire life.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Joth pointed out to Griff. “She even has marbles she won from Mr. Keel when they were eight.”

  “Sure do,” Jessi chimed in. “I have marbles from all the Vale boys who were with me in Gillie’s old classroom, Roscoe Darcy’s too.”

  “Well, you don’t have any of mine,” Griff countered, “and you aren’t going to get any.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Jessi told him.

  A smiling Joth went back inside to eat, leaving them alone once more.

  “I still say you’ll never beat me,” Jessi said. She’d dug out all the bullets. If there were any more hidden, she’d see to them later.

  Griffin doubted he’d ever met a woman so sure of herself and her abilities in his whole life. “You’re too cocky for your own good, Jessi Rose Clayton.”

  She put her hand to her ear. “Do I hear the pot calling the kettle black?”

  He chuckled. “You’ll be eating crow soon enough. Mark my words.”

  “Not from playing marbles I won’t.”

  “Okay, you keep on sassing me, woman. It’s just going to make my revenge that much sweeter.”

  His eyes were sparkling with challenge and so were hers.

  “Why are you going into town?”

  “To improve somebody’s manners.”

  She went still.

  He added firmly, “No one fires on a child while I’m around.”

  Jessi understood his feelings and she wanted to thank him for stepping up as her champion, but how wise was it to try and beard the lion in his own den? “You’re not planning to go alone, are you?”

  “Sure I am. I just want to talk to Percy, that’s all.”

  Jessi smiled. “Griffin Blake, you are lying.”

  “Of course I am. I’ll be back, though.”

  He bent and gave her a quick, sweet kiss. “So don’t worry and don’t give those kisses to anybody else while I’m away.”

  She smiled. “I won’t, and be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Griff stopped first at the Darcy Hotel.

  The pleasant-looking clerk behind the desk looked up. “May I help you?”

  “I’d like to see Mr. Darcy.”

  “Reed or Roscoe?” Griff heard a female voice behind him ask.

  The voice belonged to Minerva Darcy, Roscoe’s wife. She was once again dressed in a gown that would have been fine for Denver or Houston but was far too rich for the plain country blood of Vale. “Reed,” Griffin responded.

  “My father-in-law’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. Is there something I might help you with?” she asked with a seductive smile.

  Griff had no problem understanding what she was offering, and it made him wonder if the rumors about her sharing her father-in-law’s bed were true. Personally, Griff had no intention of accepting anything from her; even in her fancy clothes she couldn’t hold a candle to Jessi. “Well, it’s real important that I see him, meeting or no meeting.”

  “I told you, he can’t be disturbed.”

  Griff decided he must not’ve made himself clear enough. “Mrs. Darcy, I’m usually a pretty even-tempered fellow, but when I don’t get what I want, the outlaw in me becomes real nasty.”

  He watched Minerva try and fail to hold on to her superior attitude.

  “Either take me to Darcy or I start shooting up this place the way his men shot up the Clayton place last night. Your choice.”

  Minerva looked up at him and said with a fake smile, “You’re a very forceful man, Mr. Blake. I like that. Come this way.”

  Griffin followed Minerva back into the inner sanctum of the hotel.

  “You know,” she told him as they walked, “we’d make a good pair, you and I. You’re handsome, intelligent.”

  Griffin didn’t bite. “I usually steer clear of married ladies, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Pity,” she responded brittlely.

  When Minerva opened the doors to the study and preceded him inside, Griff saw that she’d lied. Darcy wasn’t in a meeting, at least, not one with any other attendees. He was in the room alone, eating breakfast behind a big, fancy desk.

  “Just protecting his privacy,” Minerva explained in response to Griff’s look.

  The interruption made Darcy glance up impatiently. Seeing Griff seemed to catch him off guard, but he gathered his composure quickly. His dark eyes flashed as he asked in a cold voice, “What do you want? And make it quick.”

  Griff walked over to the desk. “Brought you something.”

  “What?”

  Griff reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a handful of the battered bullets Jessi had given him this morning, then let some of them stream slowly from his hand into Darcy’s coffee and over his eggs and potatoes, and dusted the residue from his palms over the marmalade on the two fat pieces of toast. “Thought you might like them back.”

  Darcy’s face twisted with fury. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, but you have if you think I’m just going to let you shoot up a house while a sleeping child is in it.”

  That too seemed to catch him off guard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If Jessi’s having trouble with nightriders, she should tell the sheriff.”

  Griffin grabbed him by the lapels of his fancy handmade suit and snatched him across the desk and dishes so that the older man was no more than a few inches from Griffin’s wintry face. “If Joth had been killed last night, you’d already be dead, so listen and listen good. Don’t you ever send anybody out to harass that boy or his aunt again. Do you understand me?”

  “Get your hands—”

  “Shut up,” Griffin growled back. “This isn’t a discussion.”

  Darcy nostrils flared with emotion, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Jessi isn’t going to give you her land and she isn’t going to marry you, so leave her the hell alone.” Griff threw him back in the chair. “Where’s West? I know he was the leader last night.”

  Darcy angrily righted his clothing. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “He’s Clem Davis to you. Where is he?”

  “No idea. And don’t you ever come barging in here again—”

  “Or what? If I ever have to come barging in here again, you’d better be armed. Now, where’s West?”

  “I said, I don’t know.”

  “Fine, I’ll find him on my own. In the meantime, stay away from the Claytons.”

  “This is going to cost you your life, Blake,” Darcy promised with a snarl.

  “Only if you can hire somebody to do it. We both know you’re too yellow to do it yourself.”

  Griff walked back to the door. Minerva stood there as if rooted. Griff politely touched his hat to her in parting and stalked out. That was for Joth, he told himself angrily. Now for Jessi.

  Instead of leaving the hotel, Griffin walked into the semi-filled fancy dining room and announced loudly, “Folks, the dining room is closed. If you’d be so kind as to leave immediately…”

  A buzz filled the room as folks scurried to comply. Everyone in town knew the red-headed Griffin’s face by now and he didn’t have to make the announcement twice. Once the room was emptied, Griffin picked up one of the dining room chairs and hefted it for a moment to judge its weight. Satisfied that it met the test, he forcefully hurled
it through the big polished plate window that fronted the street. The noise was tremendous but paled in comparison to the amount of satisfaction he received. If Darcy wanted to create havoc, Griff would give him some.

  Most of the banished diners had not left the premises and were huddled in the doorway watching him with dropped jaws. You could’ve heard a pin drop on cotton as Griff passed them by. “Tell Darcy that’s payback for Jessi Clayton’s parlor window,” he drawled, then walked back out into the late morning sunshine.

  He was certain Darcy had been lying about not knowing West’s whereabouts, so Griff walked down to the saloon to see if he could learn anything from his new friends there.

  He hit pay dirt the moment he walked through Auntie’s door. West was seated at a table on the far side of the room, playing poker with four men. When he spied Griffin he didn’t bother hiding his smug smile. Griff could see that he’d gotten a shave since yesterday. He looked more like a ferret than ever.

  “Morning, Percy. Get all shaved up for your funeral?”

  The few patrons in the bar looked up, as did big Doyle Keel behind the bar.

  West kept his eyes on his cards. “What the hell do you want, Blake?”

  “Your hide. You know, you could’ve killed Joth Clayton last night.”

  “I got no idea what you’re talking about. Go home to your whore.”

  Griffin’s punch hit West with such force, both man and chair went straight to the floor. Once West stopped seeing stars, his lips curled ferally. He launched himself at Griffin and the fight was on.

  Percy managed to land a few well-placed punches as tables were knocked over and big Doyle Keel came running from behind the bar. Griff had the supreme satisfaction of beating the tar out of West for a good fifteen seconds or so, until someone busted Griffin across the back of his head with an object large enough and hard enough to knock him senseless and he slid to the floor like a wet sheet.

  When he came to, he was groggy. He had a hard time focusing his eyes and his head hurt like hell. He seemed to be lying down, but he wasn’t real sure. At first he thought he was dreaming, because he swore he could see Two Shafts and his twin Neil July grinning down at him.