Miracle Jones

by Nancy Bush

  But at least he liked Kelsey. She was one of the two women in the world Harrison actually trusted. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. Isabella Weatherby had been an excellent teacher.

  He frowned. At one time, when he’d been green and newly starting his practice, Isabella had seemed like an angel, the woman of his dreams. He’d been in love with her in the worst way. But then the truth about her affairs with other men had come to light. It was Harrison’s brother, Jesse, in fact, who’d told him the truth.

  “Don’t trust women,” Jesse warned. “Ever. Isabella’s been sleeping around.”

  “With you?” Harrison asked coldly, stung by Jesse’s harsh words. His younger brother’s reputation was notorious.

  Jesse’s blue eyes narrowed. “No. But not for lack of interest on her part…”

  Three weeks later Jesse disappeared from Rock Springs, leaving in his wake a string of broken hearts and several juicy scandals that had kept the collective tongues of the Ladies Aid Society wagging to this day. Shortly thereafter Isabella’s roving eye had returned to Harrison. But Harrison had taken Jesse’s advice to heart. He’d stopped seeing her.

  And she’d married someone else within the month.

  Now Harrison flicked a glance at his own cards. Dismal. The other players at the table were showing only casual interest in the proceedings – a lie, considering the current stakes. The simple bachelor party which had begun at the Half Moon Saloon and was somehow finishing in this deserted barn had turned into a rousing card game complete with whores and rotgut liquor. Harrison, who suspected Garrett cheated, decided to end the evening once and for all by flirting with lady luck. “I’ll take two,” he drawled, dropping two cards from his hand.

  Garrett chuckled. “You Danner boys aren’t too smart. You expect to beat me, playing like that? Didn’t anyone tell you it’s better to bluff?”

  Harrison merely smiled, then stared in amazement at the two cards just dealt him. His gaze darted questioningly to the steel-eyed dealer. There was the faintest glimmer in the man’s return gaze. Jace Garrett wasn’t the only man cheating at this table, it appeared.

  “So, what’re you going to do, Jace?” Harrison asked.

  Jace shouted with laughter. “Your ploy’s too late. I already know you’ve got shit in that hand.”

  “Here y’are, Mr. Danner,” a sultry voice said at Harrison’s elbow, pressing another glass of whiskey into his hand. He drank without thinking, enjoying the moment. Jace Garrett might be about to become his brother-in-law, but Harrison wasn’t above twisting the knife a bit.

  “Ya want one, too?” the whore-turned-barmaid asked, sliding a seductive hand down Jace’s arm. She glanced over her shoulder to someone by the door, then back to Jace.

  Jace nodded curtly, too interested in the game to pay attention. A glass of amber liquid was slid smoothly in front of him, and the woman melted away.

  There was something strange in that, Harrison thought, but, like Jace, at this point his attention was solely on the game. He grew aware that Jace’s image was beginning to waver in front of his eyes. His mind seemed to spin and fragment. Focusing, he said a bit drunkenly, “I’m sure glad Lexie found out what an ass you are. You wanna card, or not?”

  “I call.” Jace’s mood changed abruptly, and his lip curled. “Lexie would rather get between the sheets with her brother than a real man.”

  Harrison lunged forward for Jace’s throat but was pulled roughly back into his chair by several other burly men. Jace would never forgive Tremaine for stealing Lexie. He would rather poison people’s minds into thinking they were half-brother and -sister, a necessary lie they’d even once believed themselves, rather than admit to being thrown over for his arch enemy. It didn’t matter that Lexie and Tremaine were step-brother and -sister, only related through marriage. Jace hated Tremaine with a seething passion and continually stoked the embers of discontent. Not even Harrison’s wedding to his sister would change that.

  His thoughts obviously on the same path, Jace muttered, “Kelsey’s only marrying you because Warfield got tired of waiting for her to make up her mind. Now she doesn’t want to be an old maid. I’d stop ‘er if I could.”

  “Would you? You’ve been slobbering over Danner land for years, hoping to get your hands on some. Bet you think you can get some now.”

  Jace glowered.

  “The girls is ready,” a gruff voice said, hazily, somewhere to the right of Harrison’s shoulder. Harrison turned his head and nearly fell forward onto the table.

  “Show me what you got,” demanded Jace, slicing through the fogginess of Harrison’s mind.

  “Three aces.” Harrison tossed down his cards. He had an impression of Jace Garrett leaping to his feet, roaring in outrage.

  “It’s a cheat!” he snarled. “The man’s a card cheat!”

  Harrison grinned lopsidedly, a little surprised at the effect of the liquor. “Does that mean you can’t cover your bet?”

  There was a murmur of laughter, but most of the men tried to hide their expressions. Jason Garrett was a man of power in Rock Springs. He owned more than half the city. No one wanted to make an enemy of him. No one, that was, but a Danner.

  “I’ll cover it,” Jace slashed out. “I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no. Now,” Harrison insisted.

  Tension mounted. Some of the men glanced around anxiously. Harrison, who had bottled up his emotions for far too long, took the greatest pleasure in seeing Jason Garrett squirm.

  “The girls is ready,” the gruff voice repeated intensely.

  “What girls?” Harrison asked. No one answered. Several of the men at nearby tables opened their wallets.

  “The whores,” Jace spat dismissively. He was no more interested in them than Harrison was. His mind was on his money.

  “There’s more’n whores here.”

  It was the gruff voice again, and Harrison focused on him with an effort. He was dirty and his teeth weren’t good and there were bits of food caught in his beard. His tongue wetted his lower lip.

  “Whad d’you mean?” Jace slurred.

  “I got a pretty one. Young. Looks like a virgin, shore enough. She’s upstairs, trussed up ‘cause she’s a spitfire.”

  “You mean you’re holding a woman here against her will?” Harrison asked carefully, disbelievingly. His tongue felt thick and strange. Just how many drinks had he consumed? He couldn’t rightly remember.

  “I’ll take her.” Another male voice jumped in quickly. The man was already licking his thumb, peeling off a healthy stack of bills from an even healthier pile.

  Garrett’s mouth dropped open. He struggled to his feet, swaying. “Wait just a damn minute! You can’t hold some woman here against her will.”

  “That’s right.” Harrison was surprised to find himself suddenly on the same side as Jace Garrett. But the mood of the others had turned ugly, and there was a sharp smell of lust in the air.

  “Come on, come on,” one of the men muttered to Harrison, gesturing to his winnings.

  Harrison raked in the pile of money. He felt strangely lightheaded. With a warped sense of justice, one of the other men prodded Garrett with the butt of his gun. “What else are you givin’ him for winnin’?”

  “I’ll pay him tomorrow. I don’t have cash now,” Jace stated flatly.

  “You’ll pay him now, or you won’t leave.”

  Harrison glanced around the room, uneasy now at the dreamy edges to his vision. None of the men who had showed Garrett respect was in sight. They’d disappeared into the murky edges of the room or had left altogether. Only strangers remained. A cold sense of foreboding tightened Harrison’s gut.

  Realizing too late what was happening, Harrison asked through his teeth, “Whad you put in the drink?”

  No one answered.

  Harrison glanced at Jace. The way Garrett swayed and weaved on his feet said he’d received the same poison. Grimly, Harrison realized they’d been fools to let themselves be talked into coming
to the barn tonight. Who had suggested it? He couldn’t remember. They’d been happily toasting the future at the Half Moon Saloon in Rock Springs and somehow had wound up at this private gambling party. If they weren’t careful they could lose everything – maybe even their lives.

  Harrison tried to think. He had to get rid of the money. They would leave him alone without the money. “I’ll take the woman,” he said thickly. “Las’ chance before the weddin’, you know.”

  Jace glared at him through bleary eyes, shocked and furious. “I’ll tell Kelsey.”

  Stupid bastard, Harrison thought. He couldn’t even see what was happening.

  Haggling was going on nearby. The man who had tried to purchase the young innocent before was still trying to buy her. He had plenty of stiff competition. Money was piling up on an overturned crate, enough money to make even an honest man think twice. Harrison scooped his winnings to his side of the table.

  “I wan’er,” he muttered. “Take it all.”

  The man with the gruff voice grabbed for the money. Harrison glanced into his eyes, trying to memorize his features. He was dirty and stank to high heaven. Harrison thought about telling him he was wasting his time trying to stuff the winnings into pockets shiny with grime. The others wouldn’t let him get away with that much cash. He would be beaten and robbed before he stepped two feet outside.

  “Ya still owe money,” a voice said to Jace.

  “Jace’ll match my winnings,” Harrison said with the drunken smile. “Take ‘im to Rock Springs. He’s good for it. You can keep it all.”

  “You goddamn filthy swine!” Jace spat viciously.

  Harrison couldn’t tell Jace he’d probably just saved his miserable life. The men currently pulling Jace roughly out of his chair would keep him alive until they had their money. Then it was up to Jace to save his own neck. Harrison had problems of his own.

  “Take him to her,” Gruff Voice ordered one of the whores. The man’s eyes were on Jace, his mind clearly on the funds still outside his grasp. Harrison followed after a voluptuous woman whose bosom was pushed up from her bodice, threatening to spill over with each of her shallow breaths.

  He’d lost a small fortune tonight. Now he needed to save the girl and get them both out of here alive. Damn it all, why couldn’t he think straight? He needed his wits about him more than ever now.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Miracle lay on her back atop rug-covered hay bales, staring up at the sloping barn ceiling. Her hands were tied behind her back, her ankles lashed together. Light from the lantern suspended on a wire above her head quivered over the narrow room. A tiny crack near the main joist admitted several bats. They hung from the rafters, emitted faint squeaks, then burst through the crack in a flutter of anxiety, only to slowly return again.

  Curse and rot her miserable luck! Her heart beat fast, as fast as the frightened bats’ wings. Her head ached. She didn’t remember being brought here, but she had to get out. She could feel the knife still strapped to her thigh – thank God! – so she was reasonably sure she hadn’t been physically abused.

  She grimaced. Since she was certain Bushy Eyebrows was dead, Gruff Voice must have somehow talked Jeb out of using her. She shuddered to think what would’ve happened if he hadn’t.

  Twisting onto her side, Miracle wriggled furiously against the binding ropes. Her wrists were already chafed raw. If only she could slip a hand free. Her whole future depended upon it.

  Lord, have I ever asked for much? she prayed with more fervor than reverence. Have I begged for your help? Well, I’m begging now. Get me out of here!

  A roar of male laughter rose to the rafters. Miracle flinched. The group of men downstairs was drunken and loud. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone remembered her.

  Despair flooded her. Was Uncle Horace all right? Was he even alive? The ruthless men who had abducted her were not above killing; she’d witnessed that with her own eyes. She had to struggle free. She had to!

  Footsteps sounded on the ladder. Miracle froze. There were other rooms in the barn loft; she’d heard voices through the walls. Praying these newcomers were headed elsewhere, she attacked the ropes with renewed vigor, but with a loud creak the locked door swung outward.

  Miracle’s mouth went dry.

  “An hour’s all ya paid for,” Jeb’s voice told the blond-headed man ducking inside.

  “An hour? That’s all?” the newcomer mumbled. He weaved forward and stumbled on a bale, swearing at his own clumsiness.

  “An hour!” Jeb bellowed after him. Cursing, he slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

  Miracle scooted backward until her shoulders scraped the rough barn wall. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She stared at the man, wide-eyed.

  “Hullo,” he said. “Name’s Harrison. What’s yours?”

  She didn’t answer. If he was going to rape her, she wasn’t going to open her mouth until she could sink her teeth into his flesh.

  He came toward her on unsteady legs, dropping onto his side beside her. His familiar pose set her nerves screaming, but he said by way of apology, “Sorry. Can’t seem to keep my head up. We’re gonna have to work fast.”

  His hand brushed her leg. She stiffened and would have cried out had she not realized almost instantly that it was an accident. The man – Mr. Harrison – was truly drunk, she thought in disgust. But maybe his inebriation could work to her advantage…

  He shook his head, heard the bats, and squinted up at the rafters where they hung. “Friends of yours?”

  Some of Miracle’s fear faded away. At least he wasn’t a slobbering lecher. Neither was he full of evil, as Jeb was. Her skin crawled just thinking about Jeb. He’d killed Bushy Eyebrows without a qualm. She was half-amazed Gruff Voice hadn’t shot him in retribution. But thievery had strange rules, it seemed. While Miracle had been unconscious, Jeb and Gruff Voice must have somehow mended their rift. They’d apparently agreed to bring her here for their hundred dollars.

  A hundred dollars for one hour.

  Miracle’s blue eyes grew cold as a glacier at the thought. This man had paid a hundred dollars for a kidnapped woman! She narrowed her gaze at the chiseled lines of his face, the faintly curving lips. He was outrageously handsome, she thought inconsequentially, and for some reason it angered her all the more. Though obviously not of the same ilk as Gruff Voice and Jeb, this man was still dangerous and cruel. Oh, he was clean and handsome, with a thick patch of dark gold, sun-streaked hair that looked like burnished silk. But he was no better than his counterparts. Maybe even worse. He was the buyer, wasn’t he? Without him, the wretched highwaymen would never have been able to sell her.

  He grunted, tried to sit up, then swore and fell back down, his face whitening. Miracle’s attention was diverted. “Are you in pain?” she asked before she could help herself.

  “Damn shoulder. Nearly had my right arm cut off once.” He turned to her, his face very close. In the darkness she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but they were clear and frank. “So you do speak.”

  She licked her lips. “You’re drunk,” she accused witheringly.

  “And then some, I’m afraid,” he admitted wryly. “You may have to help me. I’m not sure I’m going to be much good in this condition. Come on, we’ve got to hurry.”

  She was astounded by his arrogance. He thought she would be eager and willing and helpful! “How much did you pay for me?” she demanded frostily.

  He laughed. “A small fortune. Are you really as innocent as they claim?”

  “Is that what you paid for?”

  “Well – yes, I suppose so.”

  “Then you’re about to be sorely disappointed, Mr. Harrison,” she lied harshly.

  “Am I?” He considered her carefully, and Miracle, to her consternation, could feel the color rise on her cheeks. “My first name’s Harrison,” he corrected her. “You haven’t told me yours.”

  “You don’t need to know it.”

  “I guess not.” He drew a b
reath and shook his head again, as if trying to clear his mind. “But if you don’t give me a name I’ll call you Sally, just to keep things straight.”

  “I’m Miracle,” she answered, goaded into answering him.

  He propped himself up on one elbow, and Miracle could feel the heat of his breath fanning her face. He smelled like whiskey and hay and a subtle, masculine odor that was peculiarly intoxicating. “Miracle? That’s your name?”

  “Er – yes,” she stammered, alarmed at the way he was moving up next to her. “I help people.”

  “Help people? How?” He put a hand to his head and sucked in a breath. “Never mind. Save it for later. We’ve got to get going, Miracle, or my hour’ll be up.”

  She narrowed her eyes. If he moved much closer he would feel the knife at her thigh. She had to get out of here and away from him. “I could help that shoulder of yours,” she said quickly, when he reached a hand toward her to do God knew what.

  His hand paused in midair. He stared at her, amused. “Maybe later.”

  “Let me try. If you could just untie my hands…”

  “You’re tied?” The muscles of his face tightened. “My God, that’s right. You would be.” With a snort of anger, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her. “Come here.”

  Shocked, she held her breath, unable to move. She lay like a slab of marble, cold and unforgiving and hard. If he felt the knife, her one chance of escape would be ended. Dimly, she realized he’d pulled out his own pocket knife and was sawing through her bindings.

  Seconds later her fingers wriggled loose!

  He stared down at her, and his expression changed to one of thoughtful appraisal, as if he’d just discovered something that surprised him. His gaze slowly moved to her lips. “One kiss for freeing you,” he said softly, then pressed his mouth against hers.

  Miracle didn’t wait. She ripped the knife from its trappings, her ears sensitive to the rasp of tearing cloth. A corner of her mind registered the sweet taste of liquor on his lips and the amazing depth of his kiss.