"You heard right," Cotton answered, laughter in his voice.
"Well, if that don't beat all!" the drunk mumbled. "Don't that woman know she ain't supposed to talk to whores?"
"Mister," Cotton called back, "ain't nobody gonna tell Bridget Fallon who she can talk to!"
Jacob grinned. Bridget Fallon. What a lovely name.
Nevada Heat, Chapter 1
"I'm tellin' you, Jim, women just cause trouble."
Miranda Perry turned as the deep voice filtered through the restaurant door. When it swung open, she stared at the man who stepped inside. Tan and broad-shouldered, he filled the open doorway. His white shirt and black, unbuttoned vest were crumpled as if only recently unrolled from a tight pack. The black pants covering his long legs were covered with trail-dust and his battered, wide-brimmed brown hat sat low across his forehead, keeping his eyes in shadow.
Miranda's gaze moved over him quickly. His shaggy dark brown hair curled over the back of his collar, and his square jaw as he faced her was tight, as though he was clenching his teeth.
Slowly he reached up and ran one hand across his face. The languid movement shook Miranda from her musings.
Who is he? she asked herself uneasily. And how did he come to be in Bandit's Canyon? Was there something wrong with the lookouts at the mouth of the canyon? Could he be the law?
She gave a quick look around her at the empty restaurant. The one lamp she'd lit earlier flickered unsteadily in the sudden breeze from the open door. For the first time in her life she regretted having given in to her midnight hunger. Miranda took a half-step back then stopped as a familiar face with a shock of flyaway blond hair came out from behind the big man.
“Jesus, Jesse! It's damn cold out there, you know?"
Miranda's pent-up breath rushed from her lungs. Jim Sully. She might have known. Somehow the Sully brothers always managed to show up at the most awkward times. Her shoulders slumped in relief and she felt the beginnings of a smile when Jim continued ranting.
"Move aside, man! Let the rest of us out of the danged wind. Don't that wind never stop blowin' down this damn canyon?" His voice broke off suddenly, then he grinned and called, "Well, hey, Miranda! You still gettin' the late-night hungries, are ya?"
The stranger called Jesse shifted his gaze from hers and Miranda reluctantly turned to Jim. "Yes, and you should be grateful! I've got a pot of fresh coffee boiling."
"That surely sounds good." He sniffed the air and smiled. "Smells good, too. Wouldn't happen to have somethin' in the kitchen for us to gnaw on, would ya?"
Despite her best intentions, Miranda's gaze kept flicking back to the silent man still standing in the doorway. He looked lean and strong. Competent. She couldn't help wondering how a man like him came to be riding with the Sullys.
“Miranda?” Jim was watching her curiously.
She forced herself to look away from the stranger. "Good to see you, Jim. It's been quite a while."
“Sure has." Jim snatched his hat off. “The boys and me figured it was time to put our boots up for a spell. If that's all right?"
She nodded. “I’ll tell Birdwell. You go on and put your horses away. Plenty of feed in the supply house." She turned for the kitchen. “Meantime I'll fry up some steaks."
"You got you a deal, Miranda. Oh!" Jim's voice crept up a notch. “Hold on a second. 'Fore you go, I want you to meet this fella."
Slowly she turned back and looked at the tall man.
Jim's easy grin creased his freckled face. “Miranda Perry, this here's Jesse Hogan. Picked him up a while back around Tucson. He's ridin' with us now."
She watched as the man called Jesse pulled his hat off. Free of the shadows, his green eyes glittered brightly against his sun-darkened skin and she was sure she saw them soften just a little when he nodded an answer to her smile.
“He's pure hell with that gun of his and not a bad camp cook neither!" Jim punched the bigger man in the shoulder.
“He just doesn't care much for women?" Miranda asked quietly, remembering Jesse's first statement.
“Uh… well," Jim stammered.
Jesse smiled lazily, reached up, and ran one tanned, long-fingered hand through his tousled hair. "Didn't say I didn't care for 'em, ma'am. Said they were trouble."
“It’s not the same thing?"
“No.”
Jim's head turned this way and that as he followed the strange conversation. Finally, when the two people paused, he cut in. "Now, Miranda, Jesse didn't mean nothin' by that. 'Sides, it ain’t right holdin' a man to somethin' he says when he thinks nobody can hear."
Jesse held Miranda's gaze. In the clear green depths of his eyes, she read a challenge. Her lips curved slightly as she said, "Nonsense, Jim. It's when a man thinks he's alone that you can find out what he's really like." She cocked her head. "Don't you agree, Jesse?"
He leaned negligently against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Couldn't say, ma'am. But I do know that when a woman thinks she's alone, she's a lot less careful about how she looks!" His gaze moved down, sweeping over her.
A flush of heat spread up Miranda's throat and across her cheeks. He was right. She hadn't given a thought to her appearance. Without looking, she knew that her pink satin dressing gown hung open, revealing the sheer white nightgown that Black-eyed Joe had brought her from El Paso. Now that she was aware, Miranda felt the night breeze sigh through the doorway, pushing the soft fabric against her body, outlining every curve.
She met Jesse's amused, hot gaze and deliberately moved slowly as she reached for the silken cord, pulled the edges of her robe together, and tied it closed. Quietly she said, “You're welcome here, Jesse." She paused. “If Jim and the boys vouch for you and Birdwell agrees, of course."
Jesse's green eyes narrowed at her sudden change.
"Hell, yes” — Jim spoke up — “where is Birdwell, anyway? Like to get this settled so's we can bed down. Had us a long ride today.”
Miranda tore her gaze away from Jesse's and turned. “You know Birdwell. He doesn't sleep much. I expect you'll find him at Big Pete's saloon." She started walking toward the kitchen. "First you get the horses put away then come eat. Birdwell'll be along. He likes his late-night coffee, too."
Booted feet stepped heavily on the porch outside. Jim's brother, Bill, stuck his head in the restaurant. He glanced quickly around the room. “Howdy, Miranda."
“Bill.” She nodded, then started cooking.
"You two about ready?" Bill asked. “The boys and me are about froze solid waitin' on you."
"Yeah," Jim said, "we're ready." He started for the door, then stopped and slapped Jesse with his hat. "C'mon, Jes. Let's get agoin'."
Jesse shoved his hat back on and only reluctantly turned away from the woman he could hear rattling pans. Outside, the men held the reins of their horses and led them quietly to the stable. Bill Sully and the two others who rode with them walked a few feet ahead of Jim and Jesse.
"Who is she?" Jesse stared straight ahead and waited for Jim's answer.
“Huh?” Jim tugged slightly at his horse's reins to hurry the animal. "Oh. Miranda. Miranda Perry. Like I told you."
Jesse shook his head. "Not her name. Who is she? What is she doin' here?"
"Doin' here?" Jim's breath puffed out into the cold desert air as he looked at his new friend in surprise. “Hell, she runs the place!" He chuckled softly and hurried his stride as they neared the stable.
A woman? Jesse turned and stared at the lamplit windows of the restaurant. A woman runs Bandit's Canyon? A small stab of disappointment coursed through him unexpectedly. For just a moment, when he'd first seen her, feelings that he'd thought long dead had sprung to life again. Her smooth skin, freckled nose, and the soft, sweet scent of her had sparked a hungry desire that had made him wish he were a different man.
It must have been the lack of makeup, he told himself. It was a long time since he'd seen a woman without her war paint on. He smiled wryly. Of course, the kind of w
omen he'd been spending time with in the last couple of years were not the sort to let any man see what they really looked like. Jesse remembered the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks when she'd realized that he could practically see through her nightgown. Quickly he told himself to forget it. It meant nothing. His lips twisted in a frown. An experienced whore could summon up tears and blushes at will. And what else could she be? She not only lived with the outlaws, she was in charge.
Suddenly Jesse snorted out a laugh and pulled at his horse again, hurrying his steps. Who the hell was he to judge? Wasn't he riding the bandit trail now himself? Wasn't he looking to hole up in the canyon for as long as he could?
As they entered the stable Jesse glanced around at his new riding partners and hid a half smile. The Sully gang. Why, Jim and Bill Sully and the two knotheads who rode with them were about the worst excuse for badmen that Jesse had ever seen! He'd never forget his first encounter with them nearly four months ago. He still smiled at the memory.
They had tried to hold up a stage on which Jesse was traveling. After being told there was no cash box onboard, they'd decided to take whatever they could get from the passengers. Fortunately they'd started with an old woman. Jesse fought down a chuckle as he remembered Jim Sully asking politely for the woman's purse. When the old lady started in moaning and crying about how she hardly had a nickel in the world and how she didn't know how she would get by if the bandits took her last little bit, Jim Sully had thrown in his cards.
The young bandit helped the old lady back into the coach, then turned around and took up a collection from his brother and the others. The half-starved outlaws finally managed to scrounge up about ten dollars, which Jim presented to the old lady with his apologies for upsetting her.
As the would-be bandits rode off and the stage started rolling again, the old woman looked up at Jesse in confusion. Carefully then, she tucked the crumpled bills and a handful of coins into her reticule. Right alongside a wad of bills thick enough to choke two horses.
And when they reached their destination, Jesse had discovered that not only was there a cash box… but it was loaded with gold. Payroll for some miners. Smiling to himself, he acknowledged silently that the Sullys were more likely to starve to death than hang.
It hadn't taken him long to buy a horse and track down the Sully gang. With a small show of his talent with a six-shooter and a few elaborate lies, Jesse had won their confidence arid joined their "gang." And though he was forced to pose as an outlaw to accomplish his goals, he was just as pleased to be with a group that made the likelihood of actually committing a crime very slim.
"Hurry up now, you bunch!" Jim ordered, and Jesse snapped his attention back to the present. "We got hot coffee and good food awaitin' on us!"
Deliberately Jesse Hogan pushed all thoughts of Miranda Perry aside and went about his own business.
#
The coffee was strong enough to stand by itself. Just the way Jesse liked it. Hot as hell and black as sin. He took a small sip and glanced covertly at the other men gathered around the stove in the corner of the restaurant. Besides Jim and Bill Sully and the two men who rode with them, there were three men gossiping in low tones. Carefully Jesse looked them over.
The first was an older man with gray-streaked hair and tired eyes. Another had long, dark brown hair pulled-back with a piece of rawhide and tied at the base of his neck. The last, a blond man with a mustache, was much too thin to be the man Jesse was looking for.
He lowered his gaze again and cursed himself for a wishful fool. Had he really thought it would be that easy? After two years of searching, had he really expected to stroll into the bandits' stronghold and find his man right off?
Patience, he told himself. Patience. No matter how long it took, he would be patient.
He sighed and took a long gulp of coffee. Restlessly he let his gaze wander over the small restaurant. Though the paint was peeling and one of the window panes had a rag through a broken corner, the place was clean. Floor neatly swept, tables scrubbed until the soft pine was near white, lamp chimneys sparkling— hell, even the drinking glasses had been washed. And in the kind of company Jesse'd been keeping for the last couple of years, that was quite a treat.
Again his mind returned to Miranda. Somehow he knew it was her doing… the neatness of the place. The warmth, the hominess. It was something he hadn't expected to find in an outlaw hideaway. He glanced at the empty kitchen and found himself wishing she hadn't left right after setting the food out on the tables. At the same time, though, he knew it was better that way. For both of them.
"You seen Birdwell?" Jim threw the question at the knot of men huddled around the stove.
“Nah,” gray hair answered. "'Spect he's with Miranda."
Jesse gritted his teeth and his thumb tapped against the side of the china cup. So that was the way of things, he thought. She wasn't free with the whole place. Just this Birdwell fella.
“The way he looks out for her," Jim said, “I'm surprised he gets anything else done atall."
“Well,” the gray hair said again, "you know what it's like around here. Folks comin' and goin'. New ones comin' in all the time. . ." He nodded at Jesse. "Like him."
Jesse's eyebrows rose slightly.
“Birdwell likes to teach 'em right off that Miranda ain't to be bothered."
Jesse shook his head slowly and stared at the older man. "He don't have to worry about me. I ain't about to fight any man over a woman. Least of all a town whore."
Gray hair leaped to his feet, his face a mask of fury. “Listen here, you, you got no call to talk about Miranda that way. Why, I got half a mind to let Birdwell know just what you said and let him deal with ya!"
Jesse's eyes widened. For chrissakes! What kind of bandit town was this? Was he supposed to use Sunday school language?
“Now, Ezra…" Jim Sully jumped up and grabbed the older man's shoulders. “No need to carry on so, like you said. Jesse's new. He don't know about Miranda. He didn't mean nothin'."
Jesse hadn't moved. He rocked his chair slightly on its back legs and kept his steady gaze on the old man.
Ezra's face had lost some of its purple coloring, but his lips were still thin and rigid. "Then you best tell him, Jim. Quick before Birdwell comes along, hears somethin' like that, and snaps this fella like a twig." Ezra glared at Jesse and plopped back down.
Jesse calmly stared back, even though his mind was working furiously. Hell, he couldn't afford to get thrown out of the damn town! Not after spending two years of his life on the trail of a man who had to be known to some of the folks around here.
“I shoulda told you 'fore we rode in, but… well. Don't matter." Jim shook his head and plopped back down on the seat opposite Jesse. He glanced at the closed door uneasily, as if expecting someone to come in, then started speaking in a rush. “It don't pay to say things like that, Jesse. Specially not here. See, Miranda's got a lot of friends… me included."
Jesse's eyebrows shot up again.
“Not that kind of friend," Jim said, plainly disgusted. “Look, we ain't got much time. Birdwell's bound to show up soon. I'll just say this quick. Miranda ain't no whore. Hell, it'd be impossible, what with the way Birdwell rides herd on her! But that ain't the only reason. She's" — he paused and stared off into nothingness — “special. Her pa built this place when he got out of the outlaw business. Birdwell helped her old man, and when he died, Birdwell kinda took over bein' her pa."
Jesse waited, sure there was more.
“Anyhow," Jim continued, "the fellas that come through here, hell. We all know what we’re like. Got nobody. Nowhere. No home. No families." He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Miranda is kinda family to all of us. Sister, mother —“
“Wife?” Jesse interrupted.
“No.” Jim shook his head. "You ain't listenin', Jesse. She ain't like that, and if you ever say different, Birdwell's liable to thump you so hard you'd have to wear your hat on your boot tops!"
If all th
is was true — and he had no reason to doubt it — Jesse was even more curious than before about Miranda Perry. Why would a woman like her stay in Bandit's Canyon? From what Jim said, she sure as hell didn't belong there!
In spite of himself, he felt a surge of curiosity. That first attraction he’d felt for the woman flickered back into life and he squashed it back down. It had been two years since he’d allowed himself even to notice a good woman. And now, he told himself fiercely, was not the time to start. Not when he was finally so close. Besides, he wasn't going anywhere. If he should change his mind… He stifled a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Jim asked, smiling.
“I was just thinkin'," Jesse countered. “Not that I'm interested or anything, but if I was, how much trouble could a fella with a name like Birdwell give me?"
Jim's lips pursed. He glanced at his brother, then at Ezra, before turning back to Jesse. "Let's just say you was wrong about Miranda… don't you make the same mistake about Birdwell."
#
Miranda pushed the image of Jesse Hogan from her mind. Instead she picked up her latest copy of Godey’s Lady’s Book and flipped idly through the pages. Heaven knew she'd already read it enough to have the blasted thing memorized, but somehow, reading about fancy dinners or how to take stains out of satin took her mind off the problems at hand.
She chuckled softly and told herself that she could probably tell the people at Godey's lots of things they didn't know. Like how to fit ten flapjacks on a griddle made for eight… how to keep desert sand out of your baked goods… how to allow for wind when taking a shot at a deer, or even, thanks to some of the men in town, how to rob a bank.
Miranda sighed, slapped the book closed, and let her head fall against the high back of her favorite rocking chair. She stared up at the ceiling and played the game that had entertained her since childhood.
Against the whitewashed wood, her mind created the image of Bandit's Canyon. Not as it was now, but as it could be. Clearly she saw women walking down freshly swept boardwalks, chatting happily to busy storekeepers. She saw children laughing and running in the street. Curtains hung at every window, flowers planted in boxes along the hitching rails, and even a church. Yes, she told herself. A church painted a fresh, clean white, with a tall steeple and a bell. The bell would ring out every Sunday for services, and during the week they could use it to call the kids in for school. She even knew where the church would be built. Right where Big Pete's saloon now stood.
Mountain Dawn Page 27