Loner's Lady

by Lynna Banning

  Because he is trying to help you.

  And why would he do that?

  Because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

  But that was unnecessary. Dan would take care of her when he came home. It was not Dan who was to be feared. It was Jess.

  He moved to the back door and held the screen open for her. “I’m waiting.”

  Ellen yanked at the bow and jerked off her apron. It was no good trying to dissuade him. Once he made a decision about something, he was like the Rock of Gibraltar. If he had set his mind on that kiss she owed him, why not claim it right here and now?

  A frown creased his forehead as he stood waiting for her. “You dithering or coming?”

  “I do not dither.”

  “True enough.” He walked beside her without saying another word, steering her to the barn. The place smelled of musty hay and horse droppings.

  “C’mon.” He pushed her into the tack room in the far corner. He’d straightened it up, she noted. Ropes and bridles dangled from nails newly pounded into the walls. A saddle rested on the battered desk Dan had used as a catchall for liniment and old towels. The desk, its top cleared of debris for the first time in years, had been shoved from the far wall to partially block the doorway. Brown grocer’s paper had been tacked over the single window.

  “All you’d have to do is use your backside and push the desk over a bit to stop the door. Then crawl under the knee space.”

  “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

  Jess shot her a measuring glance, then licked his lips. “The window’s covered, so nobody can see in. You might need a safe place to hide.”

  “From my own husband? Don’t be ridiculous!”

  He gripped her shoulders so hard she could feel all ten individual fingers. “Listen to me, Ellen. You haven’t seen Dan in over two years. Could be he’s not the same as you remember. Besides that, the two riding with him, Gray and J.D., are hotheaded and rough around the edges. And more.”

  “What ‘more’? I hate it when you tell me only part of something.”

  His mouth narrowed into a grim line. “Gray is young. Headstrong. He shoots before he thinks. And J.D….” Jess closed his eyes for a brief moment. “J.D. likes women.”

  Ellen sniffed. “Most men like women. What’s wrong with that?”

  Jess hesitated. “J.D. likes to hurt women. He likes to hear them scream.”

  Cold fear curled up Ellen’s spine. “Those men are coming here? Why would Dan bring—?”

  “Goddammit, Ellen, do I have to spell it out? Dan rides with the gang. Since I pulled out, I hear they do more than rob trains.”

  She stiffened, staring fixedly at the top button on Jess’s blue shirt. “It isn’t true. Not the part about Dan.”

  “Suit yourself as to the truth of it. In a day or so you’ll see for yourself. I’m just telling you what we’re up against.”

  “I see.” Her voice was chilly, but she couldn’t help it. Part of it was anger at Jess’s slur on her husband’s character. Part of it was fear that he was telling her the truth.

  He lifted his hands from her shoulders. “I want to show you another place you’d be safe.”

  “Really,” she said with steel in her tone. She couldn’t explain why she felt such fury, but she couldn’t push it down.

  His eyes hardened into blue granite. “Yeah, really. I know it’s difficult, facing something that’s ugly.”

  “Dan would never be part of anything ugly!”

  Jess ignored her remark. “And I know you’re scared.”

  “I am not scared!” she shouted. But she was. Inside, raw terror clawed at her belly.

  He wheeled away from her and moved toward the open barn door. “Then c’mon out to the cornfield.”

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to bury her head under her pillow and make it all go away—the hidden money, the Ryder gang, Jess. Mostly Jess.

  Before he had tramped through her gate that day she had felt none of this growing horror. Had no doubts about Dan except that he might be dead. No confusion about an irrational attraction to a man who was not her husband.

  A net was tightening around her. A net she couldn’t comprehend. She clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. Underneath, she knew she had to move forward. Had to confront whatever was going to be.

  She clumped after him in stony silence. When they reached the creek bank, Shep at her heels, Jess scooped her into his arms without asking and splashed across to set her upright at the edge of the field, where the stalks were sparse.

  “When you get this far, you start crawling. Don’t try to walk it, you’ll be too slow. Crawl to the middle of the field, stay quiet and don’t move.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

  Jess watched her face as she absorbed his words. The battle within her played across her features like a goddam book. Anger. Disbelief. Fear. Bewilderment. Maybe she didn’t believe one thing he’d said, but if she remembered about the cornfield, he could free his mind to lay his trap.

  “Let’s head back. You’ve got a cake to bake, remember?”

  Ellen stared at him, watched the dimple slowly emerge in his tanned cheek as his smile deepened. It wasn’t just a cake he wanted, she remembered. “How can you think about food at a time like this?”

  “Nothing much else to do but wait. Might as well enjoy it. Besides…” He reached out to turn her toward him, and lowered his voice. “Might as well tell you, I’m thinking about more than cake.”

  She jerked herself free. “You are a despicable man! Conniving and deceitful and…and despicable.”

  He didn’t answer, just moved away from her toward the creek, and after a moment, Ellen started after him. Suddenly Shep bounded away from her side and shot across the stream. In a few moments the dog’s short, high-pitched barking sounded from the barnyard.

  “What’s wrong with Shep?” she called.

  But Jess had stopped stock-still and cocked his head, listening. “It’s the gate. The bell on the gate. We’ve got company.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jess stopped on the far side of the creek, set Ellen on her feet and watched Shep streak across the ground toward the front gate. A man stepped his horse through and dismounted, his motions lazy and sure. Damn fool left the gate open, but before Jess could get up enough lather to yell at him, he recognized Dan O’Brian’s distinctive, cocky walk. Gray and J.D. wouldn’t be far behind.

  At the thought of seeing J.D., it all came back in the flick of an eyelash, all the things Jess had tried to wipe from his memory. The filth of the prison at Richmond, the overcrowding, his escape when he knew he couldn’t last another month. He remembered the agony of dragging his broken leg over back fences, through woods, across rivers. The gnawing hunger. The sharp scent of fear.

  And finally the comfort he’d found in Callie’s arms.

  Now Jess positioned himself in front of Ellen, but kept his eyes on the Irishman, watched him jerk hard on the bridle and start for the barn. Hell, the bastard didn’t spare even a glance at the house. You’d think he’d want to see his wife before he unsaddled his horse.

  Shep shot across the yard and fastened his teeth on Dan’s trouser leg. Atta boy! Take a hunk out of him.

  “Get away from me,” Dan growled. He tried to shake off the animal, but the snarling dog held on.

  Jess smiled. That’s it, Shep. Good boy.

  Dan released the bridle. “What in the name of…” He drew back his other foot and smacked his boot into Shep’s belly. “Bugger off!”

  The dog yelped and slunk away to his hiding place under the back porch. Jess clenched his hands but kept quiet. Not yet. Ellen had a right to be first.

  Dan swore, grabbed the bridle and again started for the barn without looking back. He hadn’t changed a bit. Hated dogs more than sheriffs and loved whatever horse he was riding almost as much as he loved himself.

  Ellen brushed past Jess. Instinctively he wanted
to reach for her, hold her safe against him. In another minute she’d know her husband had returned. God help him, he would give anything to spare her what he knew was coming.

  He stared after her for a long minute, then ducked into the shadows and began circling toward the back side of the barn. He’d stay within earshot, but he didn’t want to see the reunion.

  Ellen paused by the henhouse and watched a young man she did not recognize slide one dusty boot out of his stirrup and kick the gate shut. The harsh clang of the cowbell made her jerk.

  “Gray, for God’s sake, keep it quiet.”

  “What for? This here’s Danny Boy’s spread, ain’t it?”

  Ellen drew in a sharp breath, and at that moment Dan strode out of the barn. She took a step toward him. “Dan?”

  “Ellie?” Her husband’s tenor voice carried over the nervous clucking of her hens. “Ellie, where are you?”

  She hitched her crutch tight under her arm and took another faltering step. “Dan? Is that really you?”

  “Aye, honey, ’tis himself.” He opened his arms. “Come to me, lass.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Sure and it’s been a while, now, hasn’t it?” He landed a quick, sloppy kiss on her cheek, then moved to her mouth and took his time. “Ah, Ellie honey. You sure do taste good!”

  “Dan,” she gasped when she could speak. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re home!”

  “Well now,” he said with a grin. “Where else d’you think I’d be?”

  Ellen gave a shaky laugh. “At first I thought you might be dead, and…oh, Dan, this has been such an awful time.”

  “Me, dead?” He twirled one of her loose brown curls around and around his forefinger. “I’ll not die so easily.”

  “And just last Sunday I heard you were in jail. At Riverton. It isn’t true, is it? Oh, it couldn’t be true!”

  “Well now, lass, it is and it isn’t.” He grinned at her, then ostentatiously sniffed her hair. “Ah, Ellie, you smell so fine. Never met a lass who smelled as sweet as you.”

  Ellen flushed. “Oh, stop with your sweet-talking.”

  “Would you do somethin’ for me, darlin’?”

  “Why, of course. What is it?”

  “Cook up some supper. Me and my partners are powerful hungry.” He tipped his head toward the two mounted men, leaning over their saddle horns, watching Ellen with interest.

  “That’s Gray on the left. And J.D.”

  With a jaunty smile, Gray lifted his hat to reveal a mop of straw-colored curls. “Ma’am.”

  J.D. swept his black Stetson over his heart and bowed from the waist, but said nothing. He was dark, Ellen noted. Slicked down black hair, dark skin with a whisker shadow, eyes like slivers of coal.

  “Forgive our appearance, ma’am,” Gray began. “We’ve been riding for some while.”

  Dan hooted. “Ridin’! That’s not just ridin’, Gray. We’ve been hightailin’ it hell-for-leather for two days straight. Sure could use a bath, honey. Don’t smell good enough to come into the house.”

  “And some grub,” Gray added.

  Dan chucked Ellen under the chin. “And some grub,” he echoed. “Aw, Ellie, ye look so fine.”

  “Well, I—” Didn’t he notice her crutch?

  Dan released her suddenly and turned away. “This way to the creek, boys. Let’s wash up.”

  Gray and J.D. dismounted, tied their reins to the fence post and followed Dan across the barnyard.

  Ellen watched the three men. Gray had an exuberant bounce to his step. J.D. moved his tall, elegant frame with surprising speed. And Dan, leading the way, walked the way he always did, as if he were half dancing a jig. The Pied Piper of Willow Flat.

  When the back screen door flapped open, Ellen was so sure it was Dan she didn’t look up from the stove. The stew she had hastily thrown together out of leftover beans and vegetables from her garden bubbled in the big iron pot, and now she was dropping in spoonfuls of flour-and-milk mixture for dumplings. “There’s coffee,” she said over her shoulder. “And biscuits in the oven.”

  A boyish voice answered. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  Ellen pivoted as fast as she could without tripping over her crutch. “I thought you were Dan.”

  The man called Gray raked off his hat. “Guess maybe you wasn’t expectin’ all three of us.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t really sure about Dan until I heard about the jail—” She shut her mouth over the word.

  “We ride together, Miz O’Brian. Where Danny Boy goes, J.D. and me go, too. Works t’other way as well.”

  “Up until the present, perhaps. Dan is home now. I don’t expect he will leave again.”

  Gray stopped in the act of hanging his hat on a nail by the door, and gave Ellen a speculative look. “Guess he don’t tell you everything, ma’am.”

  “I’m sure that will change, now that he is home. Sit down, Mr. Gray. My dumplings will be ready shortly.”

  Footsteps clunked up the back steps, along with the chink-jingle of spurs. “Gentlemen,” Ellen called out. “I don’t allow spurs on my kitchen floor.”

  Gray sank onto a chair facing the door and waited, his washed-out green eyes on the back porch. “None of us got spurs on ’cept J.D., ma’am, and I don’t know as he…”

  Ellen followed his gaze. With a tight feeling in her belly, she watched the slim, dark man step into the kitchen, followed by Dan. J.D. still wore his spurs.

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, gentlemen? No spurs.”

  Dan made a beeline for her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her back toward the stove. “Just serve up supper, Ellie,” he said under his breath.

  J.D. took a slow look around the room, selected the chair next to Gray and glided onto it.

  “What about my floor?” Ellen muttered.

  Dan nuzzled the back of her neck with his lips. “Don’t fuss over it, lass. ’Tis a small thing.”

  She frowned at him. “Not to me it isn’t. Since I’m the one who scrubs and polishes the floors around here, why shouldn’t I fuss?”

  Dan just grinned at her. “Ah, lass, is it dumplings I smell? Best smell on earth ’cept for your perfume.”

  “I don’t wear perfume.” She snapped out the sentence, then bit her tongue. She guessed Dan was just trying to be a good host.

  He gave her another heart-melting smile, then turned to the men gathered at the table. “Boys, when you taste Ellie’s dumplings you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  “That’s okay, s’long as I can git back,” Gray quipped.

  “This supper is as close to heaven as you’re gonna get, kid.” J.D.’s voice was as rough as his unshaven chin.

  Ellen yanked the lid off the bubbling pot, ladled a fluffy, cream-colored dumpling into each soup bowl and smothered it with the fragrant stew.

  Dan moved away from her side and sat down with a thump next to Gray. “Hell’s probably a lot more fun, anyway.”

  “Gee, Dan, when you get there, let me know, will ya?”

  J.D.’s eyes turned cold. “Both of you shut the hell up.”

  Ellen plunked a bowl of stew down before each man, slapped a big spoon beside it and pointedly passed out her second-best gingham napkins.

  “Ellie, the coffee?” Dan suggested.

  She ignored him, removed the browned biscuits from the oven and dumped them into a bowl. “Help yourself,” she said crisply. “I call these my special purgatory biscuits.”

  J.D. snickered, but Gray looked at her with a blank expression on his young face.

  “Would you gentlemen like coffee now?”

  Three heads nodded and she splashed hot coffee into their mugs. For once she was glad the brew was overboiled and bitter.

  Gray slurped down a spoonful of his supper. “Mighty good stew, ma’am. Mind if I ask what all you put in it? I’m kinda partial to cookin’, myself.”

  “Vegetables and beans,” Ellen replied. “Perhaps you would like the recipe?”r />
  Dan’s eyebrows lifted. “No meat?”

  “No meat. I can’t afford it.”

  “What about the chickens?”

  Ellen drew herself up to her full height and faced her husband. “My chickens lay the eggs that I sell in town to buy flour and cornmeal and coffee and everything else a farm needs to survive.”

  “Ah, Ellie, I didn’t mean—”

  “You didn’t think, Dan.” She reached for the empty biscuit bowl. “You never do.”

  Without looking up, J.D. snaked his hand out and closed it around her wrist. “I like a woman with spirit.” He tightened his fingers until her hand grew numb and she released the bowl.

  “Don’t hurt her, J.D.,” Dan said. “She meant no harm. She’s always been outspoken.” He went on spooning food into his mouth.

  J.D. gave her arm a sharp jerk. “I like that even better.”

  “Aw, come on, J.D. Let her loose. We need some more biscuits.”

  Ellen stared at her husband in disbelief.

  A slow smile spread across J.D.’s face. “Get ’em yourself, Danny Boy. Your wife is…busy.”

  Ellen closed her captured hand into a fist. “Unhand me.”

  “In a minute,” J.D. said, his voice lazy. “I like the way my fingers feel around your wrist.”

  Both Dan and Gray kept their gazes on the table, but a voice like cold steel came from the darkened parlor. “Take your hands off her.”

  Dan jerked his head up and stared into the dim room. “Who’s that?”

  A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and Dan’s face went white. “Jess!” Dan cursed. “What are you doing here?”

  Jess stepped into the kitchen, his Colt leveled at J.D.’s heart. “Let her go, J.D.” The hammer snicked in the hushed room.

  Dan’s mouth gaped. “Jess, what are you doin’ here? This is my house!”

  “This is your wife, too. You’d think somebody needed to stand up for her.”

  “Well, yes. But J.D.’s only funnin’, aren’t ya, J.D.?”

  “Sure,” the man growled. But he didn’t relax his hold on Ellen’s wrist. She tried to pull away, but the dark man yanked her arm again, harder.

  Ellen bit back a moan and Jess thought he’d come apart. He took one step forward and jammed the gun barrel behind J.D.’s ear.