“Miss Ellen’s quite a woman,” DeWitt murmured. “Worth any damn fool heroic act a man wants to pull, I guess.”
He fingered the wanted poster, gave Jess a curious, almost respectful look. Then he deliberately tore the photograph into confetti. “God, what am I doin’?” he muttered.
Jess stared at the man and swallowed. “You’re giving me a chance at a new life, DeWitt. I’m not likely to forget that.”
“Not doin’ it for you, mister,” the sheriff growled. “Doin’ it for Miss Ellen. Well hell, that’s not entirely true. I’m happy to collect stolen money any day of the year, and I’m grateful for the tip about the Ryder gang.”
Jess started for the door. “I’ve got a horse outside.”
DeWitt pushed away from the desk. “Whaddya think, Flint? A posse or just you ’n me?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ellen woke to the clang of the cowbell Jess had nailed to the front gate, followed by the muffled sound of hoofbeats. Lifting her head from the blanket-covered straw in the loft, she listened intently as the hooves drummed down the road, then faded into quiet.
Her head throbbed from the musty heat in the loft, but she had not dared to open the barn door to catch the breeze. Instead, she had swung open the high loft door, and lay on her pallet trying, between bouts of weeping, to think. Hearing the horses thunder off down the road toward the south, she buried her tear-swollen face in her hands.
She was alone. Completely on her own once more, and now she knew it would never be any different.
She choked down a sob and sat up. She had managed alone before. She could manage alone again. Maybe it would be easier now that she had finally faced the truth. Dan would never outgrow his need to gamble, his craving for the outlaw life. She didn’t feel pain over his leaving; what she felt was a sickening sense of disappointment.
Underneath that lay a new feeling. In the deepest part of her being she was aware of an odd sense of relief, as if the laces of a constricting corset had been sliced free.
She sat without moving for a full ten minutes, listening to the twittering of sparrows in the pepper tree, the hens clucking over grasshoppers. It was peaceful here in her barn, on her own land. She would manage, even with one leg in a plaster cast.
She lay back, hearing the straw crackle underneath the gray army blanket, and stared up at the roof beam. One end of it was pockmarked where her shotgun had showered lead balls into the wood. Such a rash thing to do, but she had fired to protect herself. She would do it again to save herself or her land. Nothing was going to stop her from surviving, not a derelict husband, not even an aching heart.
Damn that Jess! She’d never thought him a coward, but a man who rode away instead of risking his heart must be, well, weak-kneed and puny in spirit. For the rest of her life she would hunger for what he had not offered.
Four years ago Dan had swept her off her feet with his charm and good looks. She was older now. Wiser. She could survive without Dan.
She would survive without Jess, too.
But her chest felt like a length of barbwire was binding her heart. Hot tears spilled down her face, and after a time the anguish quieted into an achy resignation. She would never let herself love anyone. Never again.
Even without Jess, she resolved, she would try with all her might to live and be happy no matter what.
The barn door rumbled open and she froze in terror.
“Ellen?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out except a strangled whisper. “Jess?”
He walked the roan gelding into the barn and lifted his face toward the loft. “Are you all right? I got back as fast as I could, but…”
“Back?” she said shakily. “Back from where?” She scooted to the edge and peeked over. He had his back to her, closing the barn door. His blue shirt looked dusty, and she noticed the gun belt riding low on his hip. One revolver rested in the leather holster; she had the other beneath her blanket.
“Back from town. Went to see Sheriff DeWitt early this morning.”
Ellen thought she hadn’t heard right. “The sheriff? Why did—” She caught her breath as comprehension dawned. “You turned the money in.”
“I did, yes. Brought DeWitt back with me, and when he saw all the fresh tracks, he took off after the gang.” Jess loosened his saddle and dropped it onto a hay bale, then led the roan to a stall and fed him a handful of oats. “You hungry?” he asked.
A bubble of near-hysterical laughter burst from her throat. “No. I managed to gag down two raw eggs and drink all the milk you left. Jess, are you… Why did you come back?”
He took a brown sack out of his saddlebag and started up the ladder. “To bring you this.” His smile widened into a grin as he tossed the sack up to her. In a split second he cleared the last three rungs and knelt before her.
Snuffling back tears, Ellen threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jess,” she sobbed. “Jess—”
“Hell, honey, don’t cry. It’s all over. You’re safe and I’m not in jail or dead or…”
She scrabbled at the brown bag. “Oranges! You brought oranges! Just look at them.” She curled her fingers around two fat round globes of fruit and held them up.
Jess caught her hands in his. “Wish it could have been diamonds, or the moon.”
Ellen stared at him, tears blurring her eyes. “I don’t want diamonds or the moon.”
He laid his palms on either side of her face and tipped her mouth up to meet his. “Good,” he murmured against her lips. “’Cuz all I’ve got to give you is oranges.”
“Suddenly I am very hungry for oranges,” she whispered.
Again Jess reached for her hands. With purposeful movements he lifted the fruit out of her fingers and set it aside. “Later.” Gently, he stretched out on the blanket and pulled her down beside him.
“Jess, what are you doing?”
He skimmed his lips over her mouth, then moved to her bare shoulder beneath the lace edging of her camisole. “Trying to figure how to get you out of this.” He brushed one hand over the garment, letting his palms linger on her breasts. “Take it off, Ellen.”
The breath huffed out of her. He was asking her to… “Jess, I can’t.”
He ran his tongue over one muslin-covered nipple. “Why not?”
Her mouth opened with the pleasure of the sensation, a spiraling heat that went straight into her belly. “Because… Oh, Jess, don’t. I can’t think when you do that.”
“Because?” he prompted. His voice grew hoarse in a way that thrilled her. “Because of what? Dan?” He licked her earlobe.
Ellen gasped. Clutching at his shirt, she closed her eyes. It felt so wonderful, what he was doing to her. Wonderful and frightening. She had never been touched like this. Never been kissed so carefully, so exquisitely that an ache bloomed between her thighs. She wanted it to go on and on.
But it couldn’t.
“Yes, because of Dan,” she murmured. “He is still my husband.”
Jess lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Do you care about him, Ellen? That’s the only question that matters.”
“It’s not the only question. I took vows. Promised…promised to stand by him in sickness and in health, for—”
“He’s not sick, Ellen. And I don’t think it matters to you whether he’s richer or poorer. I think the only thing that really matters is how you feel about me.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. “You know how I feel about you.”
His eyes turned darker, more the color of midnight than a noon sky, but his gaze held hers with an intense, hot light in their depths. “I can make you want me, Ellen. I can kiss you and caress you until you forget everything, but that’s not good enough.”
“I already want you, Jess. You know that. I want you to touch me all over. Kiss me in places no man has ever done before.”
With one hand, he untied the ribbon of her underdrawers and slowly slid his hand down over her belly. “Do you want me to stop?”
/>
“No.” She arched upward as his fingers moved lower, then lower still. “Don’t stop.”
“There’s all kinds of marriage, Ellen.” He ran his warm tongue over her mouth and her breathing hitched. “There’s marriage for money or position.” He dipped his tongue past her teeth.
“There’s marriage for convenience,” he whispered against her lips. His mouth moved to suckle her breast through the thin muslin, his lips hot and wet and demanding. Ellen felt a cry spill out of her throat.
“Yes,” he murmured. “That’s it. That’s what I want to hear.”
“Jess…Jess, I’m dizzy. Floating. I can scarcely think.”
“Then there’s marriage for pleasure.”
“Yes,” Ellen murmured.
“I’m not offering you any of those.”
“You need not offer me anything. Just being with you is enough. It has never been like this before, so sweet. So strong.”
Without a word he untied the ribbon at the neck of her camisole, pushed it off her shoulders and down over her breasts. When he circled one nipple with his tongue, Ellen sucked in air and moaned.
“What I am offering is my love. For the rest of my days.” He lifted his head, pressed his lips to her mouth, then rolled away and stood up. He wanted her so much he was trembling.
“Ellen, look at me.” She rose and stood before him.
Tears swam into his eyes. He wanted to laugh at the joy that flooded him. God, God help me hold on to this.
Holding her, feeling her heart hammer against his chest, he was unable to talk or even think rationally for a long while. Finally he wrapped both arms around her and looked deep into her eyes. He would entrust his whole being into her care.
Her heart faltering, Ellen whispered his name. He loved her. And she…
Oh Lord, yes, she loved him. And it was not a sin, but a sacrament.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the morning, Jess helped Ellen walk down to the creek, where they took leisurely baths in the cool water and washed out their bloodstained, mud-splattered clothes. Shep frolicked on the bank, snapping at dragonflies, while Jess and Ellen waited for their garments to dry.
The air was soft, and as the day melted into afternoon, Ellen perched on the creek bank and assessed her feelings and the situation she found herself in. She was married to one man, but she loved another.
How could she have let this happen? She had no right to even think about Jess in this way; her marriage vows bound her to Dan. Sure, she could do what she’d heard some women in big cities had done—get a divorce. But in a little town like Willow Flat such a thing would cause a scandal she could never live down.
The talk would taint a child, as well. Her heart clenched. She knew what it was like to be ostracized because of a parent’s actions.
She couldn’t wait forever to decide, either to do the unthinkable and divorce Dan, or send Jess away. Continue life on her own. Jess wasn’t pushing her, but she knew he wouldn’t wait forever for her to make up her mind.
With a moan of anguish, she shut her eyes and stiffened her spine. The price was too high; she could never bear it. She loved Jess, but she would remain faithful to Dan because she had sworn a vow.
They didn’t talk during their cobbled up supper of fried eggs, biscuits and sliced tomatoes. Jess dried and stacked the last of the dishes, unwilling to light the lantern even in the waning daylight. He hung the towel over the oven handle and enfolded Ellen in his arms.
“Do you think Dan will be back?” she whispered.
Jess hesitated. “If you were my wife, I’d damn sure be back. But Dan… I reckon Danny Boy is a different kind of bird.”
“He’s not a bird, he’s a snake. I don’t want him here.” Her voice sounded so weary and resigned his throat tightened.
“What are you saying, Ellen?”
“I…I don’t know, really. I have gotten what I bargained for, a husband and a farm. But underneath it isn’t what I want.”
Jess’s breath caught. “What is it you want?”
“Oh, Jess, you know what I want. You. A life with you.”
“But you can’t undo the bargain.” He pressed his face against her hair. “You’re not willing to pay the price.”
“I think I’m probably a damn fool,” she said.
He managed a half smile. “Yep. Big damn toe-the-line fool. You’d make a good army officer.”
“I think…” Ellen turned from the sink to face him and her jaw went slack.
Over Jess’s shoulder she saw Dan’s figure loom in the doorway of the darkened parlor, the shotgun he carried aimed at Jess’s back. Her blood turned to ice.
“Dan! What on earth are you doing here?” She managed to control her shaking voice, but she couldn’t stop the pounding of her heart. It thundered beneath her ribs like a huge, pulsing drum.
“Now why shouldn’t I be here, darlin’? Is this not my home?”
At the sound of Dan’s voice, Jess went completely still.
“Put the gun away,” Ellen said. “Then we’ll talk.”
“I’m thinkin’ we’ll talk now, Ellie.”
Jess pivoted to face the Irishman. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Down the road a ways. I got to thinkin’ about you, ridin’ off with my money. Began to wonder where you’d gone.”
“And you wondered where the gold was.”
“That’s right. When I saw we were bein’ followed, I figured— Actually, ’twas J.D. who figured it out. Anyway, we got down the road a ways and put all the pieces together. If the law was followin’ us, it had to be because of you.”
Jess said nothing. He sensed a movement behind him, but couldn’t risk looking. “Ellen?” He looked down into her eyes. “Put some coffee on, would you?”
“Coffee? You want coffee? Now?”
He held her gaze. “I do, yes. Go on, now, and make some.” He gave her a gentle push.
Reluctantly she moved toward the stove, splashed water into the graniteware pot and clunked it down on the stovetop. He heard her stirring up the coals in the firebox.
“I’ll need more wood,” she announced.
“Get it, then,” Dan snapped. “This boyo…” he tipped his head toward Jess “…I’m not lettin’ out of my sight.”
Jess heard her uneven footsteps on the wash porch, the wheeze of the screen door, and then the faint, irregular tapping of her shoes down the back steps. He could do one thing, he resolved. He’d keep Dan away from her if it was the last thing he ever did.
Which, he realized suddenly, it might be. Very slowly he pivoted to face the Irishman. Jess had to think clearly, even though he knew Dan’s finger itched to blow him to hell.
“Tell me something, Danny Boy.”
“What about?” the Irishman growled.
“About Ellen.”
That got his full attention. The sharp brown eyes flicked into the kitchen, then back to Jess. “What about her?”
“She’s your wife. Why’d you leave her in the first place?”
Dan pursed his lips. “Wasn’t her, exactly. Something just came along and…bit me.”
“Robbing trains more exciting, is that it?”
“Somethin’ like that. Why the questions, Jess? You had the gold and an open road. What the hell brought you back here? Ellen?”
Jess shifted his weight from one foot to the other, noting that the gun barrel trained on his chest followed the subtle movement. It came to him then what Dan had really come back for, what he really wanted.
It wasn’t Ellen. It was him. Dan had come back for only one reason, to kill him. Whether for revenge about the gold or jealousy, it didn’t matter now. In the end Jess knew he was a dead man.
He tried to clear his head, but all he could think about was Ellen. After Dan shot him, would he hurt Ellen?
Jess thought of Callie. He’d caused her death as surely as if he’d shot her through the heart. J.D. had always said that. Jess himself accepted responsibility and had lived
his penance all these years. Maybe he deserved to die because once again he’d taken another man’s woman.
Dan’s low voice jarred him. “Ellen means something to you, doesn’t she?”
Jess hesitated. He could lie, maybe talk himself out of danger. Or he could come clean, which would probably get him a chestful of lead.
He thought about dying, about never seeing Ellen again. About causing her anguish when she’d have to look at his body all shot up. When she’d have to bury him.
Oh, hell, there wasn’t an easy answer. There wasn’t one single thing in life that didn’t come with a price. Loving someone just made the cost higher.
“Yes, Ellen does mean something to me.”
The Irishman snorted. “Now how did that come to pass, you miserable thief?”
“I just watched her for a time. Saw who she is. What she is. She’s a rare woman, Dan. If you didn’t see it, it’s your loss.”
“And you do see it, I s’pose?” Dan’s voice shook with anger.
Jess nodded, careful not to startle the man into squeezing the trigger. “I do, yes.”
“So you pounced on her like a randy coyote when I wasn’t here to protect her.”
“Don’t be a jackass, Dan. A man doesn’t tumble a woman like Ellen for a night’s pleasure.”
The Irishman’s mud-colored eyes narrowed. “You tellin’ me you haven’t laid a hand on her?”
Jess shook his head. “No, I’m not telling you that.”
“Then what are you sayin’, you scum? Tell me!”
“I’m saying that laying my hands on Ellen means something to me. I think it means something to her, as well.”
Dan’s shoulders went rigid. “You’re sure of that, are you?” he shouted, his face distorted. “You steal my wife and have the gall to make it sound like she wanted it?” Spittle gathered in the corner of his mouth.
Jess had seen Dan like this once before, the night he’d killed that train engineer. He’d had the same look in his eyes, a flat, glazed expression, part fury, part fear. Jess watched the Irishman inch forward until the tip of the gun barrel brushed his shirt front.
If you’re going to pull the trigger, it had better be now. Any second Ellen would walk back into the kitchen, and God knew he didn’t want her to see this.
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