She nodded dumbly.
Lynch stepped around Jackson, keeping one eye on him.
Before he left, though, he paused in the doorway. "You and I will meet again, sir."
"Count on it," Jackson snapped.
Chapter Nineteen
Damn him," Jackson muttered. "For what he did to me and for not even remembering."
"Jackson, don't."
He stepped back from her. "This isn't any good, Rachel. I can't stay here much longer. Not without —" He left the statement unfinished.
"Noble Lynch won't be here forever," she said quickly in the growing silence. "Gamblers aren't men who put down roots in a town. Sooner or later, he’ll move on."
"Yeah." His head bobbed in an angry nod. "He can do that, can’t he? Just up and go wherever the hell he wants to. He's alive."
"I'm not worried about him." Rachel laid one hand on his forearm. "I'm thinking about you."
"Don't." He moved back another step and shook his head. "Don't think about me. Don’t worry over me. It's long past time where that would do any good."
Pain slashed across her features. But there was nothing he could do to ease it.
His insides still twisted into knots, Jackson left the store a moment later. Rachel called to him, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. Striding down the boardwalk, he didn't hear his friends speaking to him. He didn't feel the growing chill in the spring air. He didn’t even notice the sunset.
Staring blankly straight ahead, he marched determinedly toward the meadow behind Rachel's new house.
His brain raced. Frustration rushed through his bloodstream. His boot steps pounded against the rutted dirt road. The mile or so to the house had never seemed so long. With his hands curled into helpless fists, he strode faster, more furiously.
By the time he turned in at the narrow drive, he was almost running.
He passed the unfinished house without a glance. Only an hour ago, he had experienced a wash of pride in the work he had accomplished on the place. Now, there was nothing.
Pride had been swallowed by the rising tide of fury. Stopping in the center of the meadow, he looked around briefly, then yelled, "Lesley! Show yourself, dammit!"
Almost immediately, the air in front of him shifted, swirled, and became heavier, thicker. He watched silently as the little man appeared before him."I thought perhaps I would be hearing from you," Lesley said.
"You know what's been going on?"
"Of course." Lesley lifted his chin and peered along the length of his nose at him. "May I say that quite frankly I am appalled."
"Huh?" Caught off guard. Jackson lost his train of thought momentarily. "What are you talking about?"
"I am disgusted by your misuse of the powers granted to you."
"What powers?" Then a few seconds later, he asked, "The coins? You’re still talking about the business with that prospector? And Sam and Mavis?"
"I meant what occurred between you and Rachel last night."
Jackson scowled at him. He hadn't given Lesley or the man's bosses a moment’s thought the night before. That time with Rachel had been private. Or so he had thought. The realization that last night hadn't been just between the two of them after all only fed his anger.
"Last night's none of your business."
"You are supposed to be finding her a husband."
"I'm trying."
"Are you really?"
"Look, what happens between Rachel and me is none of your concern." Jackson took a step or two away, then spun around to face the smaller man. "But if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t use any powers on her:"
"Ah." Lesley tugged at the lacey cuffs on his sleeves. "Then this was merely another example of your poor judgment."
Poor judgment. Some would call it that, he supposed, but to his way of thinking, the night with Rachel was the only thing he had ever done that he didn't regret. At least, he amended, not for himself. Had it been the right thing for Rachel, though? He didn't know.
"If I made a mistake, I'm sure you'll think of a way for me to pay for it."
Lesley stiffened, and one eyebrow arched high on his forehead.
"This isn't a matter of your mistakes. It is a matter of Rachel Morgan’s future."
Shoving one hand through his hair, Jackson said, "If it's her future, shouldn't she get a say in it? She doesn't want to get married. Not unless she's in love."
"Then convince her that she is in love."
Jackson stared at him. "You don't give a god damn about her at all, do you? You care about are these kids she's supposed to have. Especially this female doctor. What happens to Rachel doesn’t matter?"
"I never said that."
"Sure you did!" Jackson threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "You don't care what happens to her so long as your 'plan' for her gets carried out."
"It is not my plan."
"I don’t care whose plan it is!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "The plan doesn't matter! Rachel does. Her life. Her happiness, matters."
"No one wants to see her unhappy."
"You just told me to convince her that she’s in love. You want me to lie to her! Do anything I have to in order to get her married."
Lesley sniffed, clearly insulted.
"It might interest you to know that she is in love. With me."
Folding his arms across his ornately clothed chest, Lesley shook his head. "Therein lies the problem, I think, Jackson."
"What?"
"You enjoy the fact that she believes herself to be in love with you."
He couldn’t argue with the truth. Blast it all, he did like knowing she loved him. He liked knowing that he was finally, at last, important to someone.
"Isn't that so, Jackson? You’re failing at your assignment because you don’t want to succeed?"
He shifted his gaze to stare blankly at the copse of pine trees beyond the meadow.
Lesley’s words rattled around inside his head. True. All true. Just the thought of Rachel giving herself to some man who would never be able to feel for her what Jackson did, was enough to kill him. If he hadn't already been dead.
"All right, yeah," he admitted quietly. "I don’t want her to marry somebody else."
"Is it Rachel's happiness or your own that is uppermost in your mind?"
He lifted guilt-stricken eyes to Lesley.
"Your wants aren't important in this, Jackson," the man said.
He knew that. He knew it better even than Lesley did.
Every time he touched Rachel, Jackson knew that it might be the last time. Every time he looked at her, he tried to fashion a memory of her. If his wants had mattered in the least, he would be alive right now, begging her to marry him.
"You still have nearly four weeks to complete this assignment," Lesley said softly.
"I can’t." How could he be expected to hand the woman he… loved over to another man?
"You must. Rachel is destined to have four children. And Jackson, she will have them."
Kids. He had never wanted kids when he was alive. Had thought them too much trouble. Too much responsibility. Now, what he wouldn't give to be able to father Rachel's children.
"Don't allow yourself to waste time dwelling on things that cannot be," Lesley warned gently. His gaze flicked to one side and a momentary look of surprise colored his features before he turned back to Jackson. "Remember, if you successfully complete this task, there is every chance that your existence will change dramatically."
Jackson took a slow, deep breath, drawing the scent of meadow grass into his lungs.
"You’ve long wanted to leave the Black Hound." Lesley went on. "This is your chance to go forward, Jackson."
"I know." Not too long ago, that piece of news would have meant everything to him.
"Good." Lesley straightened up and asked, "Was there anything else?"
"Yeah." There was more. The reason he had gone to the meadow in the first place. Jackson looked down at the scraped knuckles on his right hand. In mem
ory, he felt the satisfying smack of his fist meeting the gambler's jaw. He flexed his fingers before asking, "What are you going to do about Lynch?"
Lesley’s eyebrows lifted high enough to almost disappear beneath his white wig. "Do? Just what do you propose I do?"
Jackson looked at him. "Send him to Hell."
"A difficult task, as he's still alive."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I could fix that."
"Don’t."
The short, simple word caught Jackson's attention as a long speech wouldn't have.
"Why not? I don’t have a damn thing to lose. It's not like he can kill me again."
Lesley drifted closer and, for the first time, actually touched him. Laying one hand on Jackson’s shoulder, the other man said sternly, "True, Noble Lynch is no longer in a position to do you any damage. Only you can do that now."
"What do you mean?" he asked, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going.
"Your soul, Jackson. You have spent fifteen years locked into a prison of your own making." He moved back on a whisper of air and began to fade. "Revenge is a stain that will taint your soul and alter the way in which you spend the rest of eternity."
Words that should have meant something to him. And might have, once. But, if he couldn't be with Rachel, the rest of eternity just wasn't important anymore.
"I don’t care," he muttered thickly.
"I know," Lesley told him softly. "But surprisingly enough, I do."
Then he disappeared altogether.
#
It was several moments before Rachel could move. Her lungs ached for air, and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Inhaling slowly, she forced herself to look away from the place where the strangely dressed man had disappeared. Shifting position to watch Jackson, she saw that he had dropped to the ground. Elbows on his knees, his face cupped in his hands, he had no idea she was there. That she had heard everything.
But the other man had known. He had looked directly at her for a split second. Yet he hadn't given her away. Perhaps then, she thought, he had wanted her to hear. To know.
Four weeks, Lesley had said. Was that really all the time they had left? Her heartbeat staggered painfully. Nothing else she had heard had made the impact that statement had. Not even knowing that a daughter of hers was destined to become a doctor.
Everything faded in importance beside one inescapable fact. Jackson would be leaving her.
Soon.
And if there was nothing she could do to prevent that, she had to see to it that Jackson received whatever reward he was due. The thought of him having to spend any more time in the saloon where he had died nearly broke her heart.
She wouldn't let him throw eternity away for her sake.
Or for the sake of revenge.
Quietly, she walked across the meadow toward him. When she was close, he looked up, his gaze locking with hers.
"Rachel." He groaned, but didn't seem surprised.
"I followed you," she said lamely.
"How much did you hear?"
"Everything."
"Christ," he muttered and flopped backward into the grass. Staring up at the lavender sky, he said, "I didn't want you to know."
"What?" she asked as she dropped down beside him. "That I'm supposed to have four children?" Children who wouldn't have him as their father. A small, sharp pain nestled deep in her chest. She ignored it. "That you’re leaving soon? Or that if I marry someone else you'll be able to leave that hellish existence you told me about?"
"Rachel…"
"And you didn't want me to know that if you kill Noble Lynch your soul is in jeopardy?"
He turned his head to look at her. "Let me worry about that, all right? It doesn’t concern you."
"Don’t try to distract me, Jackson," she said. "I want to know. What would happen to you if you —"
"Kill Noble?" he interrupted.
She paled slightly, but kept her voice steady. "Yes."
He glanced at her. "You said you heard everything that Lesley said?"
Rachel nodded.
He shrugged and folded his hands atop his chest. "Then you know as much as I do."
Visions rose up in her mind. Remembered threats from fanatical preachers on Sunday mornings. She could almost smell the scent of sulphur and feel the heat of Hell's fires. In her mind's eye, she saw Jackson, tortured and alone.
Suffering. For eternity.
Rachel shivered as though a cold wind had raced down her spine. She couldn't let that happen to him. "You have to stay away from Noble."
His features hardened. "I told you, Rachel. This doesn't concern you."
She flinched, even though she knew his anger wasn't directed at her. She understood all too well the sense of helplessness he had to be feeling. She, too, felt as though she had been swept up into something she had no control over. There was a solution to this mess, though. And she would find it.
But not tonight.
She forced a smile and stretched out beside him, aligning her body along the length of his. Jackson’s arm slipped around her, pulling her close, and she laid her head on his chest. "Everything about you concerns me, Jackson," she said simply. "I love you."
"I know," he whispered, and lifted one hand to smooth a strand of blond hair back from her face.
Rachel looked up and watched the long, slender blades of grass dip and sway in the gentle breeze. The first stars began to appear in the darkening sky.
The world should look different to her, she thought. She had just eavesdropped on two ghosts discussing what course her life should take. Yet, everything around her looked the same as always.
It was Rachel herself who had changed.
"God, I'm sorry, Rachel," he said quietly.
"About what?"
Jackson brushed his hand along her back and committed one more thing to memory. This evening, with the sky going purple, a gentle wind sighing through the grass, and the feel of her breath on his neck.
She turned in his grasp and let her hand slide across his chest. He tensed at her touch, longing to make love to her again. He remembered how it had felt to slide into her heat. To feel her hands clutch at him. To hear her soft moans of pleasure.
"Jackson?" she asked as she propped herself up to look down at him. "What are you sorry for?"
"So damn much." He was sorry for wasting his life and dying too young. Sorry to have not found the love of his life until after he was dead.
But especially sorry for having taken her virtue only to leave her. He inhaled sharply and went on. "We shouldn't have done what we did last night, Rachel."
She pushed away from him, but he held her fast against his chest, forcing her to look at him.
"I didn’t have the right to love you."
"I gave you the right."
"Blast it Rachel," he said, "I owed you better. I wanted to do right by you."
She twisted away from him and went up on her knees. "What do you mean, you owe me?"
He sat up and looked directly into her eyes. "Jesus, you told me yourself what a miserable childhood you had! Because of me. Because I didn’t care enough to stick around and make sure the Heinz couple were good folks."
"That wasn’t your fault," she broke in.
Something inside him ripped painfully. Even now, she was defending him.
"Of course it was my fault, Rachel."
"Jackson, it wasn't all bad. You saved my life, remember? Without you, I would have died out there where I lost my family."
He gritted his teeth until he thought his jaw would crack.
"I made wonderful friends in Stillwater," she went on. "I have my own business… and now, I have you again, too."
"Rachel, I botched things up so badly, you weren't even able to find somebody to love. You wasted all those years on memories of me."
"Nothing was wasted. Besides, I did find someone to love. You." He laughed shortly and shook his head. "You deserve a helluva lot better than me, honey."
She reached out to touch his cheek.
He caught her hand and held it to his face, savoring the warmth of her touch. Shaking his head gently, he smiled at her. "You’re a hardheaded woman, Rachel Morgan."
"So you've said."
"You know," he said softly, "when I stepped into the Mercantile and saw Lynch standing beside you, I wanted to kill him."
"I know."
He released her, and she pulled her hand back. Standing up, he helped her to her feet and admitted, "Most of that feeling was about what he did to me. But some of it was because he was standing there, next to you. Alive. Able to do all the things I can’t."
"Jackson…"
"I have a feeling that I'm going to feel pretty much the same way about any man you marry."
"I’ve already told you —"
"You heard Lesley, Rachel." he interrupted. "So you know about those kids you’re supposed to have. Hell! The first one’s due to get born early next year."
Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at her flat stomach.
"See, honey? There's just nothin' we can do about this. It's how things are, that's all."
Looking up at him, she reminded him of her suggestion the night before. "You could marry me, Jackson."
"No."
"Why not? For all we know, you’re the father of that child due next year."
He took one giant step back from her. His gaze swept over her as if expecting to see evidence of a pregnancy he hadn’t even considered until that moment. Was it, he wondered wildly, even possible? Could he actually have made her pregnant?
"Don't you sec, Jackson? You are the man I was meant to be with."
"No, this isn't right. It can’t be." He didn't want to believe. He didn't want to hope. Because when those hopes eventually died, accepting that would be worse than anything he had survived in the last fifteen years.
"Of course, it can. If you can be here with me now, anything is possible."
He started pacing. Long, jerky steps that took him in a wide circle around her. His brain raced as he tried to figure this out. If he could be the father of her child, why couldn’t he marry her? Was one idea any more crazy than the other?
"Marry me, Jackson."
He stopped dead and looked at her. If it were only that simple. Lord, he wanted to. He was sorely tempted to risk everything on the chance that it might be possible. But only last night he'd given in to his desires only to feel as guilty as hell today. Then something else occurred to him and he had to shake his head.
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