“You might want to go have a look at Dan.” But he kept her hand closed in his.
“What happened to him?”
“I broke his nose. And J.D. shot him. Bullet just grazed his shoulder, but he squealed like a stuck pig.”
“I don’t want to look at him. Let him squeal.” Her own words shocked her, but Jess just chuckled and brought her hand to his lips.
“When I can stand up, I’ll wash in the creek and see if I can make it to the barn. Go on in to Dan now. He doesn’t need a surgeon, but he’s hurting.”
Jess lifted his head and she rose to her knees. “I took all their sidearms, but watch your step,” he said softly. “J.D.’s out cold on the front porch. Go in the back way.”
In the kitchen, Ellen bent over the ladder-back chair where her husband slumped, and began sponging the blood off his face. Dan let out an aggrieved groan. “Easy. Don’t touch around my nose,” he said in an aggrieved voice. “Feels like it’s been plowed up for turnips.”
“It’s broken,” Ellen said. “You’re lucky you’re not dead, considering.” She bound up his wounded shoulder with a strip of clean toweling.
Dan cracked one swollen eyelid. “Considerin’ what?”
“Considering that you double-crossed those men. You stole your own money.”
Both of Dan’s unfocused brown eyes sprang wide open. “Now, Ellie, who told you that?”
“Nobody told me,” she said in a level voice. “I thought it out myself. Gray isn’t smart enough. J.D. would have ridden out without a backward glance. You were the only one who could outlast the others. Twenty-four hours, you said. J.D. and Gray would have to move on to avoid being recaptured. Since you live here on the farm, you have the perfect reason to stay another day.”
“You always were a smart lass.” He caught her hand. “And now Mexico’s waitin’.”
“Don’t touch me!” She jerked her hand away. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
“What about ol’ Jess, huh? How do you know he didn’t take the gold?”
“Because I know.”
“Just like that?” He gave her a searching look. “What’s been goin’ on behind my back, Ellie?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “I have been a faithful wife to you. I am wondering now whether it was worth it.”
Dan shook his head slowly, as if trying to absorb her words. “Ah, Ellie lass. I’m hungry for you. Let’s forget all this and go to bed like we used to.”
“No. There are things I cannot forget. Things I cannot help wondering about.”
Dan squirmed on the chair. “What things?”
“Did you hide the money somewhere else on our—my—farm because you don’t plan to share it with the gang?” She looked straight into his bleary eyes. “Even for an outlaw, that’s not fair, Dan.”
She folded the bloodstained towel in half, then in half again, making it into a small, tight square. “I will sleep in the barn tonight.”
Dan straightened instantly. “I’ll kill him,” he sputtered. He shook his fist at the ceiling. “I swear I’ll kill him.”
“No, you won’t. I will have the shotgun with me.”
Her hand shaking, she lifted the basin of bloody water. The white china felt cool and slippery, and suddenly she set it back down on the table with a clatter. Water sloshed out over her fingers.
She was frightened. Too frightened to think clearly. Too frightened to sort out what she knew she must do to change her life.
Ellen stepped into the barn, guided by the warm glow from the lantern Jess had hung on a hook. Tiny nickered, then went back to noisily munching oats. The smell of straw and horse droppings mingled with the scent of her own perspiration, and she breathed deeply. It smelled real. Alive.
She leaned the shotgun against the loft ladder. She should feel shaken by the events of the day—the brawl in the yard, the bloody wound in Dan’s shoulder—but now, in the quiet of the barn, it all seemed far away.
Her skirt was filthy with dirt and mud and bloodstains, the elbow of one shirtsleeve torn. She wanted to crawl onto the straw and sleep, but first she wanted a bath. She’d ask Jess to fetch—
She turned to shut the barn door and a surprised laugh slipped out. A full bucket of water sat near Tiny’s stall, a clean towel and washcloth draped over the gate. She took a tentative step toward it.
“Go ahead, Ellen.” Jess’s familiar low voice came from above her. “I won’t watch.”
She stopped but did not turn around. “Of course you will watch. I am so tired it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I won’t watch if you say so.”
Ellen propped her free hand on her hip. “Jess Flint, I have come to stay in the barn tonight. With you. Do you think it matters when you see me with my clothes off?”
A snort of amusement came from the loft, and in the next moment Jess swung down the ladder. He limped toward her, favoring his stiff knee. “I’m glad you came, Ellen.”
His gaze settled on the shotgun she’d propped near the ladder, then moved back to her face. “Mind if I move the gun? I sleep up here, in the loft.”
“You know I can’t climb the ladder.”
“No, I don’t know that.” He cupped her shoulders. “You thought you couldn’t dance with me, too.”
She allowed the crutch to fall away, and leaned into him, letting him support her weight. “Once I thought I couldn’t crawl into a cornfield.”
“Or end up in the barn, with me.”
“Jess. Dear God in heaven, what am I doing here?”
He said nothing for a long minute, just held her against him. Finally he spoke against her hair. “Taking a bath.”
Ellen smiled in spite of herself. “You know it’s more than that. I am a married woman.”
“Yeah, I know.” He turned her toward the bucket, dropped his hands to her waist. “Soap’s in a dish next to the water.”
Jess lounged against a support post as she unbuttoned what was left of her torn shirt, then untied the bedraggled denim skirt and stepped out of it. Next came her petticoat, the lace hem gray with dirt, and the thin muslin camisole.
Her naked back looked satin-smooth and pale as cream, her arms white to the elbows, then deeply tanned all the way to her wrists. He wanted to see her breasts, touch her skin, but she kept her back to him as she dipped the washcloth into the bucket and scrubbed it over her body. He could move to one side for a better view, but he didn’t want to startle her. Instead, he’d stay where he was and imagine.
Even though every muscle in his pummeled body quivered with exhaustion, he felt himself grow hard, watching her. He swallowed a tired laugh. He doubted his aching leg had the strength to part her thighs. Besides, all he really wanted to do was hold her in his arms and keep her safe.
“Jess?”
“Behind you.” He saw Ellen draw the soapy cloth along the back of her neck in slow, languid motions, and had to adjust his jeans.
“Dan took the money. I’m sure of it.”
“He tell you that?”
“No. He denied it, but he was lying. He gets an odd smile when he’s lying.”
“That’s kinda funny, when you think about it. J.D. thinks I have the gold.”
“Dan wants him to think that. He thinks J.D. is going to kill you.”
“You mean he hopes J.D. is going to kill me. There’s been bad blood between J.D. and me ever since the war.”
“It’s more than that now.”
“Yeah, I guess. In a way I can’t blame Dan. He knows I care about you.”
Ellen rolled her underdrawers up over her knees and sponged off her legs. The seductive sound of splashing water made him grit his teeth.
“You hungry, Ellen?”
“Yes. Aren’t you? We’ve had no supper.”
“I’ve got some supper waiting.”
Ellen caught the towel to her chest and half turned toward him. “You do?”
In the soft lantern light her bare throat and shoulders glowed. Jess pushed his
spine hard against the post, willing himself not to move toward her.
“Come up to the loft, Ellen. When you’re ready, I’ll show you how to climb the ladder.”
She turned back to the bucket, shook the dust out of her camisole, dropped it over her head and tied the ribbon at the neckline. “I’m ready.”
There were three long steps to the bottom of the ladder. Jess positioned Ellen in front of him, placed his hands at her waist and lifted her up until her bare toes touched the first rung. He closed his eyes at the flowery scent of soap rising from her flesh.
At her sharp intake of breath, he asked, “Leg hurting?”
“No. Lift me again.”
Four rungs later Ellen crawled onto the blanket-covered bed of straw he had arranged. It smelled like him—a leathery, smoky scent with a whiff of pine. She heard him clunk back down the ladder, and the next thing she saw was his hand gripping the shotgun. He arranged it with the barrel pointed down at the barn door, then disappeared down the rungs again.
The barn went black when he puffed out the lantern. In the darkness she heard his breathing hitch as he climbed back up, then heard his boots thud onto the straw and the whisper of garments being shed. Three soft plops and she knew he was naked.
She had thought she would feel sinful. Or frightened. To her amazement, what she felt was an overwhelming sense of relief and bone-deep weariness. Something was ending tonight.
And something else was beginning.
The scent of his body and the warmth rising from his skin pulled at her, but she did not move. His hair was still wet from his dip in the creek, and he smelled of hay and soap. Ellen lay back, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The blanket-covered straw under her head was mounded up to make a pillow. Two pillows, she realized.
Jess rolled toward her and pressed what felt like a glass canning jar into her hand. “Supper,” he breathed.
She sat up. “What is it?”
“A jar of milk. From Florence. And…” he rustled in the straw at her side “…an egg. Two, if you want them.”
“Boiled?”
“Nope. Raw. Crack it and swallow it down.”
For some reason the prospect struck her as funny. “Swallow it?” she said with a hiccup of laughter. “I don’t think I can bring myself to even look at a raw egg that close.”
She heard the soft crunch of an eggshell and then a spoken command. “Open your mouth.”
His fingers pressed a warm shell against her bottom lip, and his other hand tipped her head back. “Swallow,” he ordered in a whisper.
Ellen gulped and the yolk slipped down her throat.
“When I escaped from Richmond, I kept myself alive on stolen eggs. Never admired chickens more, even if they were Rebs.”
She heard the crack of another egg and a soft swallowing sound. He folded her fingers around the glass jar. “Here’s the chaser. Drink up.”
The milk tasted heavenly, cool and sweet. A little giggle escaped her. “This is about the strangest supper I’ve ever had. Maybe the strangest night—a bath in a bucket of water and a raw egg for supper.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Yes. Not the taste so much as the feel of it going down. One raw egg will last me a lifetime.”
When she stopped talking, he drew her to him and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was long and searching, and when he raised his head, he brought his lips to rest against her temple.
“Yep, it’s going to be a very strange night. How do you like it so far?” His breath ruffled her hair.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because,” he said as he moved his mouth to the hollow of her throat, “it’s not over yet.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jess leaned back, resting his head on the mounded straw, and stared up at the roof beams. He hurt all over from the blows he’d taken, though the ringing in his left ear had stopped. He knew he’d be stiff and sore in the morning, but with Ellen here in the loft beside him, it didn’t matter. What he felt in her presence was more than physical wanting, more like an odd feeling of happiness, like a well of warm honey deep inside.
“What a fool Dan is,” he murmured near her ear. Her head, nestled against his shoulder, nodded in agreement.
“He wants me to run away to Mexico with him. The farm means nothing.”
“Ellen, I’ve been thinking….”
She gave a soft laugh. “Do you think that I haven’t? A thousand times tonight I’ve asked myself whether I came to you for rescue from an unbearable situation or out of my own real need for you.”
“Is it important to decide that tonight?”
“Yes, I think it is.”
“Later. Don’t think now. I have something to tell you.” He pulled her close and brought his mouth to hers. After a long, delicious exploration, he lifted his head. “I know where the money is.”
Ellen’s body jerked. “You do? How could you possibly—”
“Found it tonight, while I was looking for that bar of soap for your bath.”
“I am not going to Mexico with you, either,” she said softly. “It’s the middle of summer. All my bush beans will scorch, and the carrots will bolt and go to seed. I know that sounds silly, but nothing seems very real at the moment.”
“Might be I wasn’t asking you to go to Mexico.”
“Maybe you weren’t. Then what were you thinking about?”
“Dan.”
“Dan!”
“There’s three of them, only two of us. When J.D. wakes up, Dan will sic him on me. If I take J.D., Dan will be there right behind him.”
“Why would J.D. do Dan’s fighting for him?”
Jess drew in a long breath. “Kind of a long story. J.D. was a Reb officer. I was a Federal. His lady in Richmond helped me escape from prison, then she ran away and came north. With me. J.D.’s hated me ever since.”
“So she left J.D.? Did she mean something to you?”
“Yes,” he said after a while. “She came to mean something.”
“What happened to her?”
Jess cleared his throat. “She died on my operating table. Ruptured appendix. J.D. put a bullet through the assisting surgeon, but he missed me. He’s still festering over it.”
“Oh, how awful. Is that why you don’t practice medicine now?”
“Yes.” Jess ran one hand over his eyes. “Ellen, we’re walking a rope that’s getting thinner and thinner. What do you want to do?”
She fell silent for a time, her breath caressing his neck. “First, I want to survive this.”
Jess tightened his arm around her waist, but said nothing.
“Second, I want the farm. Dan doesn’t care about it like I thought he did, but I do. It’s the only solid thing I’ve ever had.”
“Then what about Dan?”
She lifted her head, spilling her loose hair over his bare chest. “I do not want Dan,” she said carefully. “What I want is you.”
He pulled her over on top of him, kissed her long and hard. Her lips tasted of milk, sweet and warm.
“And Jess,” she whispered against his mouth, “later, I will want a child.”
“Hell,” he groaned. “I thought you’d never get around to that.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Sure I am. I’ve been hoping…hoping so hard you’d want this, I guess I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
“Do you want to stay, Jess?”
He caught her face between his hands. “Is that a proposal?”
“No. I am already married.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m in love with you, Ellen. Hell, I’ve loved you since that first night when you overboiled the coffee. And I’ve wanted you. Oh God, I’ve wanted you.”
She lifted her mouth away from his. “Why did you ask about Dan?”
“I needed to know if I could kill him if I had to. If it came down to him or me. Thought you might hate me, afterward, and then I’d lose you.”
“Jess,” she murmured.
“Jess, I won’t ever hate you, but I don’t want you to—”
“Listen, Ellen. Tomorrow, no matter what occurs, I want you to stay here in the loft. If anything happens to me, you’ll have the shotgun.”
Air hissed in through her teeth. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t know exactly.” He slipped his fingers into her hair, cradled her head against his neck and closed his eyes. “J.D. should be waking up tomorrow with one helluva headache. Even though I took his gun, and Dan’s, we’re in a tight fix.”
“What about Gray?”
“Gray doesn’t carry a weapon.”
“Then what do we do? Tonight, I mean?”
“Wish I knew.” He grazed her cheek with his lips. “If I can stay awake long enough, I’ll think of something.”
He dreamed of Callie, heard her whisper to him before she died. Do it for yourself, Jess. Not for me.
He woke sweating. He’d never dreamed of her before. Why now?
Because you’ve been shoved up against a wall again. You have to make a choice.
For himself. A choice was damn hard to make with Ellen beside him, her breathing soft and steady, her head resting against his shoulder and her body burning his all the way down to his knees. He had to decide. Had to choose.
Something sharpened inside his chest, made his throat feel as if a hot stone had dropped into his gullet and blocked his airway. If he chose wrong, he’d never see Ellen again.
It’d be a risk, all right. Might be he wouldn’t get back alive. He tried to swallow over the rock lodged in his throat, then he reached for Ellen. Sliding one arm under her, he rolled her until her body touched his all the way down. His groin swelled. He fit perfectly in the hollow between her thighs, and Lord, how he ached to peel off those soft lace-trimmed drawers that kept his need within bounds.
He’d never wanted anything so much, not even Callie. He’d never felt a desire that seared into his soul the way his hunger for Ellen did.
It’s more than want. It’s being alive.
This consuming sense of being joined to Ellen was the only thing he’d ever known for which he would risk death. That was all he needed to know, he guessed. He had to choose. Now.
Loner's Lady Page 16