by Judi Lind
A half hour later, the corn bread had baked to a golden brown and the delicious aroma of fresh coffee, filled the air. Jericho turned the corn bread onto a vivid blue bandanna and threw the beefsteak into the iron skillet. He leaned back and watched the hot meat sizzle in the pan.
Vera came up beside him and lowered onto her haunches. “Mmm. Smells good.”
He nodded. “Right now I’m so hungry I’d eat a rock if you’d guarantee there wasn’t a snake under it.”
Her fingers touched his shoulder, singeing his skin as if she’d touched him with one of the glowing embers. He glanced up to find her watching him intently, her expression wary and unreadable.
“That’s three,” she said softly.
“Three what?”
“Three times you’ve saved my life.”
“Then I’d recommend you might want to keep me around”
She laughed. Her voice sounded oddly mixed with relief. “Yeah, I imagine a man like you could come in handy.”
Poking a fork into the steak, he pretended to be engrossed in checking the meat The small gesture was the only thing that prevented him from throwing her onto his saddle roll and proving to her just how “handy” he could be.
“Whew, that fire’s hot. Never thought I’d say that as cold as I was a few minutes ago,” she said in an abrupt shift of subject. She stepped back and lowered to the ground to sit Indian fashion, slightly behind him. “Can I ask a question?” Her voice held a wary, vigilant tone, as though she were uncertain she truly wanted an answer.
“Be my guest,” he said easily.
“You’ve saved my life three times, yet... I—it looked like you killed Deputy Hamblin.”
Jericho was so stunned he dropped the fork into the hot skillet. Slowly twisting his head, he gazed at her face, lit with shadows and highlights from the flickering orange fire. He’d never seen a woman so lovely, or so damnably infuriating.
Struggling to keep his voice level and nonthreatening, he asked, “Now why in the name of all that’s sacred would you say something like that?”
She slapped her palm on her thighs, the stinging sound reverberating in the sudden quiet. “How else do you explain happening onto the scene, miles from town, just seconds after the deputy was killed? And don’t tell me it was a coincidence because I don’t believe in coincidences.”
He stared at her for a long time, trying to digest the peculiar set of beliefs that governed this enigmatic woman. He couldn’t believe this was the same unsophisticated female he’d known most of her life. It was as if she’d flown down from the moon or something.
“You’ve known me for how many years? A lot, anyway. Yet you can sit here and tell me that you honestly believe that I murdered one of my best friends in cold blood?”
Vera’s head ducked and she stared at her fingers that were interlaced in her lap. “Put like that it doesn’t sound very likely.”
“It isn’t very damned likely no matter how you word it! Damn, now the meat’s burning!”
He turned around and grabbed the fork handle to turn the meat. “Ouch!” he dropped it again. The fool thing was almost white-hot.
Rising to her knees, Vera crawled up beside him. “Let me see.”
She took his hand in hers and examined the burned skin, already beginning to blister. “I don’t suppose you brought any eggs with you?”
“Yeah, there’s three or four in that pouch, but you should put butter or lard on the burn.”
Vera reached for the saddlebag he’d pointed to and extracted an egg. Reaching for one of the tin cups he’d set out for their coffee, she broke the egg white into the cup, saving the yolk in the eggshell. “Here, smear this on your hand, it’ll stop the sting right away. Lard would only deep fry it.”
He started to protest but stopped. Her mother, Min-e-wah, was known throughout the territory as a healer. This must be one of her folk remedies, he decided. The soothing egg white took out the sting in a matter of seconds and Jericho looked at her in awed surprise. “Your mother is a genius.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This is working better than a dollar potion from a medicine show.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. But the steak is still burning.” Pushing him aside, she picked up the other fork and deftly turned the meat.
Nothing more was mentioned about her suspicions while they finished preparing their simple meal. After they’d eaten their fill and leaned back, replete, to watch the starscape in the midnight blue sky, Jericho turned and took her chin between his fingers.
“Let’s get this hashed out once and for all. I did not kill Rafe Wilson or Henry Hamblin. Furthermore, my intentions toward you damn sure aren’t honorable but they aren’t lethal, either.”
She started to reply but his fingertips inched upward, stilling her lips. “Let me finish. I didn’t just happen on you on the trail. I deliberately lagged behind hoping one of the men would loosen up a bit once you were out of the way. Jess Wiggins is so ticked at me he says he isn’t even drinking in the Copper Penny anymore, much less talking to the likes of me.
“So, when it became clear there wasn’t any new gossip that could help your cause, I set out to catch up with you. I... I didn’t want you facing the folks in Prescott on your own.”
“Oh, Jericho, I—”
“Shhh. I’m almost finished. You see, I truly don’t understand what’s going on. You seem so...so different somehow. But one thing’s clear as sunlight to me, and that’s that you didn’t shoot Rafe Wilson in the back. And they’ll string me up first before I let anybody lay a hand on you.”
That was the biggest speech he’d ever made in his life and Jericho was emotionally drained. He blew out a deep breath and waited for her reaction which was swift and totally unexpected.
Huge wet tears filled her warm brown eyes and she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jericho, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve just been so frustrated and confused. And when the attempts started on my life I just...just stop thinking straight, I guess.”
“Hush now. We don’t need to speak of it again.” He reached up and dabbed at the dampness under her spiky black eyelashes.
Why’d she have to go and turn on the waterworks?
Jericho leaned forward and lightly kissed the edge of her eyes, savoring the salty tears. His mouth trailed downward, to the plane of her cheek, then the tip of her nose before coming to rest, at long last, on the luscious sweetness of her mouth.
An errant tear had reached her upper lip and he delicately licked it away. She shivered with delight and opened her mouth, inviting him in.
For a mere instant Min-e-wah’s accusing eyes flashed in his mind. She’d entrusted her daughter to his care. God help him, he owed Min-e-wah his life. But no man could resist the lure of Vera’s soft lips. He offered a quick prayer that his friend would forgive him before once more losing himself in her daughter’s embrace.
As he gazed into Vera’s dark eyes, Jericho knew in that moment that he was going to make love to her and anticipation filled him, thickening his loins. He’d already had a glimpse of her long, slender legs and his trousers tightened as he imagined the dark silky treasure waiting for him at the apex of those golden thighs.
Carefully padding the back of her head with his forearm, he lowered her to the bedroll. He raised up on his elbow to look at her, to devour her with his greedy eyes. Her upthrust breasts were ripe enough to burst through the thin material of his chambray shirt that she’d borrowed. A shirt that had never looked so good on him.
He looped one leg over her, settling his knee between her thighs, gently pressing against the warm mound of her womanhood.
She moaned softly and he lazily flicked open her shirt buttons, one by one, savoring and licking the tender flesh each opening exposed for his pleasure.
Never in his life had Jericho felt this incredible rush of desire for a woman. This overwhelming need to make her his own, to deeply fill her, to take her to heights of rapture she’d never imagi
ned.
Her pleasure was all that mattered. His could wait.
When her breasts were at last unfettered, he lowered his mouth to her nipples, sucking and nuzzling each in turn until she writhed and moved beneath him, her fingers furrowing through his hair.
His tongue moved downward, teasing a trail down the tender flesh of her flat stomach until he was thwarted by the tight waistband of her denim jeans. Frustrated by the confining material, he yanked open the metal zipper and peeled the offending fabric from her legs.
She lay before him like a golden feast, only a pair of filmy drawers, the likes of which he’d never seen, barely covering her hips.
Unable to control the surge of desire that raced through him, he dropped his head and nuzzled her through the thin fabric. Her scent was rich and womanly and he ran his fingers beneath the elastic, finding at last the sweet wetness.
She raised up on her elbows, her fingers tugging at his head. “Oh, Jericho, I need you. Inside me. Now.”
“No, not yet,” he insisted, spreading her legs wide and moving to kneel.
With infinite slowness, he unveiled the bounty covered by the sheer fabric. He was so hard, so throbbing with need that he feared he wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer. But he had to. This was about Vera and his need to please her. His own aching desire could wait.
When his mouth moved to take her, she cried out, a wild frenzied sound that only spurred his heated desire.
Suddenly, he couldn’t take the weight of his clothing pressing against his body. Reluctantly pulling his mouth from her sweetness, he sat up and yanked off his clothes until he lay naked beside her.
“My turn,” she whispered, pushing his shoulders back against the hard ground.
She licked her lips and drew a bead down his body with her tongue, dissecting him into a quivering mass of need. When her mouth settled on him, he groaned once, unable to stand the skittery pleasure boiling in his loins.
Pulling her head from him, he drew her upward until she settled on him. Fitting him like a custom glove, a sweet, wet yielding glove.
For a long moment they rode the crest of desire together, then he felt her tighten around him and she cried out again with her pleasure. Jericho lost complete control when she reached her peak. With a shuddering moan, he reached his own climax and they collapsed together, totally spent.
Lazily lifting her head, she grinned. “That was number four. You’re a true lifesaver, Jericho Jackson.”
A moment later, she was asleep on top of him. Her warm breath a wreath circling his face. The scent of their togetherness a heady reminder of the stolen moments they’d shared.
A coyote howled in the distance, bringing Jericho back to the present He was grateful for their brief respite, and still stunned by the strength and depth of their lovemaking. Unfortunately, their coming together hadn’t really changed anything.
The sun would be up in a few hours, bringing back the problems that had brought them to this forsaken place in the wilderness.
Jericho blew a strand of her silky hair from his mouth. He wanted to hold her against him. protect her from the world, but he knew he couldn’t.
He also knew the odds weren’t very good that they’d both survive long enough to share another night.
Chapter Thirteen
The cold night wind whistling across her bare back brought Vera out of the soundest sleep she’d enjoyed in...in years. She stretched and felt Jericho’s firmly muscled body move in concert with hers.
A catlike grin on her face, she slid off and nestled beside him.
“Mmm,” he murmured.
“Mmm yourself. If we don’t get some clothes on they’ll find our frozen bodies sometime next spring,” she teased.
“Our happy frozen bodies,” he corrected. Opening one eye, he stared at her. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
Vera sighed. “I suppose by happy you mean satisfied sexually. And yes, sated would be a better word. But as far as happiness...”
Her voice trailed off. How could she be happy, even in the arms of a man who thrilled her beyond words? She had no home, no future, no sense of the kind of life normal people took for granted. She’d hoped someday to have it all: a career, picket fence and the two-point-five children that comprised the national average.
She hadn’t expected her future would find her fighting for her life in an uncivilized western society that still believed in vigilante justice.
Jericho was silent while they donned their clothing and nestled side by side. He’d added a few more twigs to the campfire and the blaze blew its comforting hot breath over them.
After a moment he said into the darkness, “All right, let’s try to be logical here. We’ve pretty well figured out who didn’t kill Rafe, so let’s see who’s most likely.”
“Jess Wiggins,” Vera said without thinking.
“Ole Jess is a contentious sort, no doubt about that. But he sure acts inflamed over Rafe’s death.”
Vera shrugged. “To cover his own guilt? He spent the most time with Rafe. They were drinking buddies. Why not business partners?”
“I don’t know, maybe. But Jess Wiggins never seems to have two nickels to rub against each other. What about...Yorkie?”
“That gawky tall kid?” Vera asked in surprise.
“Yeah. He’s always around, always in the background. I’m not sure he’s as soft-minded as he’d like folks to think.”
Vera pondered his words. “You know, you may have a point. I remember Susannah saying that Yorkie was so good at bumming drinks off everyone else that he never spent a penny. She said he probably had a bundle of greenbacks stuffed in his mattress in place of straw.”
“Hmmm. Well, if anyone knows what’s going on in Jerome., it’s Susannah. And Stuart Greavy, of course. Folks tell the good doctor all their secrets.”
Vera raised up. “Now why didn’t I think of that? I should have interrogated him about Rafe’s associates. The only ones I know anything about are Yorkie and Jess Wiggins. And Sally, of course.”
“Sally Weaver? The blonde who deals faro at the Copper Penny? What’s she got to do with Rafe?”
Vera rolled her eyes. “How can it be that men, no matter what century they’re from, are all alike? I wasn’t in the Copper Penny more than an hour until I’d learned she and Rafe were having an affair.”
“Speaking of affairs...” Jericho rolled over and nuzzled her neck. “I know a way to keep us both warm.”
Laughing slightly, Vera pushed him off. “Oh, no you don’t. I just got my clothes back on.”
“I can help you.” He reached beneath her heavy jacket and plucked open a button.
Vera felt a responsive stirring low in her stomach, but she bit her lip and pushed his hand aside. The lovely interlude they’d shared earlier couldn’t be repeated. It wasn’t fair to either of them to start a relationship that didn’t have a chance of success.
Jericho didn’t know the truth about her; how could she explain it to him so that he wouldn’t turn her back over to Doc Greavy for commitment in an asylum? Besides, she couldn’t stay in 1896. Her home was decades forward in time. She had a job to get back to. A sick mother to tend. She owned a cat, for crying out loud!
No, Vera knew this relationship was hopeless and nothing but heartache could come of pursuing it further. Reaching out, she patted Jericho’s hand. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to come awfully early.”
JERICHO DOUSED the dying embers and lightly poked Vera’s leg with his boot. “Time to rise and shine, sunshine.”
She raised up on her elbow and blinked. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked around the clearing. The animals were already saddled and ready to go. Jericho’s bedroll was tucked neatly into place behind Buckshot’s saddle.
Apparently he’d been up for some time, judging from the fragrant aroma of freshly perked coffee that wafted through the air. “It’s still dark,” she complained, taking the tin cup from his outstretched fingers.
&
nbsp; “Yeah, and unless you don’t care about seeing another sunrise we’d better get a move on.”
Recalling the sniper that was probably only moments behind them, Vera sat up and finger-combed her hair into a knot at the back of her head. Five minutes later, they were back on the trail, nibbling cold corn bread for sustenance. The morning passed quickly. The temperature rose as they made their way to the valley floor, and when they stopped to rest, Vera shed her heavy jacket. She noted Jericho’s appreciative gaze and abruptly turned away.
She had to keep focused on her goal and stop losing herself in his ink black eyes. His jaw tightened in response to her coldness and she felt a stab of shame when he retreated into that hard-edged shell of indifference he’d worn since they first met. She knew she’d hurt him, but she was powerless to change their circumstances, nor could she even explain. Jericho was a big boy and he’d get over it. She only wondered if she’d ever get over losing him.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said conversationally. “I don’t think we ought to turn you over to the sheriff in Prescott.”
“What? You were the one who said I’d receive a fair trial and could clear my name. You said if I didn’t give myself up they’d put a bounty on my head and I’d never be free. You said—”
“I was wrong.” His abrupt manner took her aback. She paused, her hand on the reins and waited for him to finish.
“Henry Hamblin’s death changes everything. Everybody in Jerome thinks we’ve been...living in sin. And, after last night, neither of us could testify that isn’t so.”
Baffled by how their sexual relationship entered into her mutder trial, Vera sat openmouthed while he continued.
“The prosecutor’s going to say that we planned this whole thing. That you shot Rafe in a squabble of some kind and then came running to me. Which you did. Then they’re going to say that I followed you and Henry out of town. Which I did”
“But...”
“Yeah, but I didn’t kill him. Except who’s going to believe I didn’t do it to save you from a life in prison, at best?”
Vera shook her head, trying to follow his logic. “The fact that I’m turning myself in should help prove my innocence.”