An Unlikely Lady

by Rachelle Morgan

  “Do you know if this Eli Johnson ever hired himself a big Scotsman?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose. Foreigners have been swarming these hills ever since the Leadville strike. Of course, most of them wind up going bust and packing it on home, but it might be worth checking out.”

  That it was. “I appreciate the tip, Miss Sarah.”

  “Just don’t tell anyone that I sent you over there. If Rose finds out, she’d skin me alive and roast me over an open fire.”

  Jesse gave her his most charming smile and winked. “My lips are sealed.”

  More than likely it would turn out to be another long shot, Jesse thought as he left but at this point, a long shot was better than nothing.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of preparations and frenzied cleaning. Not a smear existed on the drinking glasses, not a speck of dust remained on the woodwork, and freshly washed sheets hung on the line out back.

  Honesty didn’t like to think she was using her chores as an excuse to avoid Jesse, but ever since the morning’s rehearsal, she’d been plagued with a restless energy she could neither explain nor expel. She wished she could blame it all on anger toward him for getting her riled, or for evoking sensations she’d vowed not to feel again, but the truth was, he frightened her. Just when she thought she had him pinned, he changed on her, smashing her perceptions of him to smithereens.

  Which was the real Jesse Jones? The shiftless drifter, the torrid lover, or the aristocratic pianist?

  Honesty played tug-of-war with a northern wind for the last of the towels on the line, then dropped them into the basket at her feet. Like every other man she’d met, he made no bones about what he wanted. Unlike every other man she’d met, he had at least a measure of honor, proved in the way he’d dedicated his time and talent to helping Rose. And that’s what drew her to him more than anything; more than his looks, more than his smile, more than his sensuality.

  Scoffing at herself for finding something good in the scoundrel, she picked up the clothes basket laded with sun-dried towels and carried them to the back door. She had to get this . . . attraction for him under control. Just before stepping inside, she caught sight of Jesse’s horse grazing in the paddock. Its front leg wore a red and blue paisley bandage, and the animal kept its weight off it. Jesse had been telling the truth about the horse’s injury, at least. Not that she’d doubted him, exactly; she just couldn’t seem to rid herself of suspicion.

  She glanced around, searching for the animal’s owner. The sun hung low in the horizon, burning the land a deep, brilliant orange. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen his ornery hide all day.

  With a puzzled frown, she carried the basket of towels into the kitchen and set it on the table. “Rose?”

  “In here.”

  Honesty wiped her hands down the front of her apron and sought out Rose, who stood by the stage with a sketch pad and pencil. “Have you seen Jesse?”

  “Not since this morning.”

  A peculiar combination of relief and disappointment churned in her middle. The relief she understood. The disappointment didn’t make any sense. “What are you working on?”

  “Plans for Saturday night. I figure if I drag out some of those old hurricane lamps, it’ll give the room a soft glow and keep the fellows tame.”

  “Do you always draw out your plans?”

  “Reckon I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know, really. I suppose I have to see something on paper to know if it’ll work.”

  Honesty hadn’t seen Rose so alive in all the weeks she’d known her. She took a seat on the stage and said, “I never know if anything will work. I always have to try it to find out.”

  “Impulses like that can get you into trouble.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Honesty grumbled. But anytime she planned something, it fell apart. Spontaneous moves, on the other hand, seemed to gain results.

  Honesty went suddenly still. Was that the problem? Up until Deuce’s death, she’d lived for the moment, grabbing opportunities as they came with little thought to the future, holding fast to his faith that all would work out for the best in the end.

  These last few months, though, all she’d done was plot and plan her search for the truth—from mapping out every place she and Deuce had ever been, as far back as she could remember, to amassing money in every manner conceivable and searching for an escort . . .

  And look at the results.

  What if she simply threw caution to the wind? What if, instead of finding fault with every prospect that showed up, she simply took a chance on the next one to walk in and see what happened? Lord knew she couldn’t be any worse off than she was now.

  Just then the front doors flew open, and Jesse was shoved into the room by a pair of men half his size and twice his age. Honesty’s mouth dropped open. No. When she’d decided to take a chance on the next man to walk in the doors, she hadn’t meant Jesse.

  “Caught this varmint sneakin’ around our claim,” one of the geezers declared, aiming a stream of chewing tobacco into the brass spittoon nearby.

  Jake, Honesty quickly deduced. Rose’s uncles were mirror images of one another: in their late fifties, with the same receding hair line and pale blue eyes, the same stoop-shouldered build from years of bending over stream beds in search of the elusive fortune. Only two things set the brothers apart: Joe had a milder disposition than his twin, and Jake chewed tobacco.

  Another shove from the pair nearly sent Jesse to the floor. He glared at the men flanking him, bony hands gripping Jesse’s arms as if to prevent him from escaping. Rose’s uncles had to know as well as Honesty that Jesse had only to flick his wrists and they’d wind up flying through the window behind him. To his credit, though, he remained calmly in their hold.

  “Scarlet, I can explain—”

  “You’d best do it quick,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts. “Joe and Jake don’t take kindly to claim jumpers.”

  Jesse flicked a glance at Honesty, who watched the exchange with unabashed curiosity and—he would swear—amusement. Enjoying this, was she? Jesse scowled and turned his attention back to his waiting hostess. “I wasn’t jumping their claim.” Hell, he hadn’t even known there was a claim. He’d merely been returning over the mountain when the pair jumped him from behind.

  But he couldn’t tell Scarlet that he’d just wasted half the day at the Black Garter. Considering her history with Eli Johnson, who was everything Sarah had said he would be—a loud-mouthed, arrogant braggart with more bitterness in his heart than good sense—he’d find himself run out of town on a rail.

  If he’d learned anything over the last dozen years, it was to trust no one and make no enemies. You never knew when you’d be put in a position to need them again.

  “Jesse, you might as well tell her—she’s bound to find out anyway.”

  Jesse’s attention snapped toward Honesty, as did that of the others in the room. She stood a short distance behind Rose with her hands clasped loosely at her waist.

  “Tell her?” Tell her what? How could Honesty know what he’d been doing?

  Honesty nodded. “I know you wanted to keep it a surprise, but since the cat’s out of the bag . . .”

  What the hell was she doing? he wondered, staring at her through narrowed eyes.

  She stared back at him, beseeching him to play along. “Jesse didn’t mean any harm, Rose; he was only trying to figure a way to catch the stage driver’s attention before he reaches the Black Garter. A diversion, so to speak. Otherwise, we’ve no guarantee that he’ll be willing to travel off the main route to come here. I expect that’s what he was doing on Joe and Jake’s mountain,” Honesty finished. “It does have the best view, after all.”

  Rose looked first at Joe, then at Jake, who were both studying Jesse with dumbfounded expressions. “Is that true, Jesse?”

  He was in too deep to back out now. “Like she said, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “
That’s brilliant! We do need a way to bring the stage into town.” She crossed the room to cup Jesse’s face in her hands and planted a whopping kiss on his lips. “Jesse, you are amazing.” Grinning ear to ear, she said, “Looks like we got us more than just a piano player here.”

  “Yes, it looks like it,” Honesty agreed with a sideways grin that had alarm bells ringing through Jesse’s head.

  “Uncle Joe, Uncle Jake, I’m glad you two showed up. We’ve got a big night coming up and I could sure use your help,” Rose began.

  As she prodded her uncles toward the storage room door, Jesse released a relieved breath. That had been a close call. One of the first rules of being an operative was to set a consistent pattern in case a subject ever checked into your background; that had been drilled into him before his first assignment. Yet he’d almost botched it. If not for Honesty’s intervention . . .

  His eyes suddenly narrowed on her. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make up that cockamamie story?”

  “It was the first thing that popped into my head.” She set the lamp on the table and fussed with the red place mats. “I felt sorry for you. I mean, you’ve been shot once already; I didn’t want to see you taking another bullet. Do you think I should put dried flowers around the lamp bases, or would that look too feminine?”

  “They’ll catch on fire.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, telling her without words that he wasn’t buying her reason. Honesty always tried to change the subject when she wasn’t telling the truth. “What do you want, Honesty?”

  “What makes you think I want anything?” She continued to carry the lamps to each table, more to avoid looking him in the eye, Jesse guessed, than to decorate the saloon. “Can’t a girl do something nice for you without you second-guessing her reasons?”

  “Not you. I may have been here only a couple days, but that’s long enough to know that Rose has trained you well. You don’t do anything—nice or otherwise—unless you stand to gain something in return.”

  She swung around to face him with a righteous expression. “I’m thinking I should be insulted by that.”

  “Think whatever you want. Just tell me why you felt the need to come to my rescue.”

  He could practically see the gears whirring in her head, and if he didn’t want the truth so badly, he might have laughed.

  “Maybe I was afraid Rose would send you packing,” she finally said. “She is fiercely protective of things that belong to her, including her uncles. If she thought you were out to steal from them, you’d be a goner.”

  “I’d think you’d be glad to see the last of me. You’ve made it quite clear where I rank on your list of favorites.” Jesse unfolded his arms and strode toward her with a flat smile. “So why don’t you tell me what you really want?”

  Chapter 7

  Honesty hated that he could see through her so easily. She’d always been adept at hiding her emotions, so Jesse’s ability to see more than she intended left her feeling vulnerable.

  “Tell me what you really want.”

  Did she dare?

  Wisdom told her to forget this foolish, impulsive notion; it was too risky; he couldn’t be trusted, there was too much at stake.

  Desperation insisted that whether she liked it or not, Jesse was the best man for the job. He blended in well with his surroundings, could take on several roles, and all in all, he seemed relatively harmless. Not since that first night had he made any demands on her body or expected more from her than she was willing to give. If anything, he boasted a protective streak that she found both irritating and comforting.

  As she wandered about the room, trailing her fingers along the tabletops and filtering through her thoughts, Jesse’s gaze followed her, unblinking, unwavering. His intense study made her feel warm all over and sort of . . . shy. Honesty almost laughed. Why, she didn’t have a shy bone in her body! Her father used to say she’d been born under a brazen moon.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. Jesse hadn’t moved from his spot near the door and he continued to watch her with wary contemplation. What did he think when he looked at her like that? Did he see the scared little girl she tried to hide? The bold and independent lady she wanted to become? Or did he see the woman she saw when she looked in the mirror—a lying, deceitful wench who would use anyone and anything in her hunt for the truth?

  She turned to him and tried to gauge his thoughts. Dirt smeared his cheekbone, his hair had come loose from its ponytail, and strands flanked his jaw to brush the tops of his shoulders. Even his scuffed boots and rumpled, dusty clothes bore the proof of an afternoon spent outdoors—doing what, she hadn’t a clue.

  No, she did have an idea where he’d been and what he’d been doing; she just didn’t want to admit it. Jesse was a virile man, and if he couldn’t get what virile men sought here at the Scarlet Rose, naturally he’d go elsewhere. Hadn’t she all but told him to do just that?

  But other than an unyielding quest for answers, she saw nothing in his eyes to give her any hint as to what went on in his mind.

  “All right. I want you,” she blurted before she lost her courage.

  His eyes widened; tawny brows shot up.

  “Don’t look so surprised. You’re strong, you’re healthy, and you’re not completely intolerable to be with. You and I would make fine partners.”

  He conceded the point with a slanted nod. “Except for one little detail—you hate my guts.”

  It was Honesty’s turn to regard him in surprise. “I don’t hate you. I find you a bit overwhelming, and maybe a tad arrogant, but I don’t hate you. As a matter of fact, I find you quite . . . fascinating.” She punctuated the compliment with a brilliant smile.

  He shifted from one foot to another, men raked his fingers through his hair, pulling several more strands loose from his ponytail.

  “Look . . . Honesty, I’m flattered, but . . .” He gave an awkward little laugh and shook his head. “I’m afraid the prices around here are a bit too rich for my blood.”

  “But I would pay you.”

  “Is that so? Forgive my confusion, but yesterday you couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as me. Today you want me and you’re willing to pay. Why the sudden change of heart?”

  Put that way, she realized her behavior did seem somewhat erratic. She swallowed roughly and confessed, “Because you’re my last hope.”

  “Ahh, I see,” he said, though it was obvious that he didn’t see at all. “I’ve heard some outrageous propositions before, but this one beats all. What makes you think I even want to go to bed with you?”

  Honesty’s mouth dropped open. “Go to—good cow feathers, who said anything about going to bed? I want you to help me, not have sex with me!” Although the idea wasn’t all together distasteful. That night she’d spent with him was still so fresh in her mind that she could practically feel him on her skin.

  Jesse’s face paled, then flushed. A curse singed the air. “I don’t need this.”

  “Wait!” she cried, rushing toward him as he moved to leave. His voice had gone tight as a whipcord, and she realized that he thought she’d purposely misled him into thinking she was inviting him into her bed. “Just hear me out, will you?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. He hardly looked interested, but at least he seemed willing to listen.

  Battling a sudden attack of nerves, Honesty resisted the urge to wring her hands. “I want to hire you to help me find something.”

  “And that would be . . . ?”

  “First you must agree and swear loyalty to me.

  A shake of his head sent a few more blond strands swinging across his shoulders. “No deal. I don’t do anything without knowing what I’m letting myself in for.”

  Honesty felt a trap of her own making closing in around her. Jesse didn’t strike her as a man who would agree to travel untold miles looking for something even she couldn’t define. What could she say? Jesse, I need you to safeguard me while I can
vass a thousand miles looking for God-knows-what, God-knows-where? She needed to give him something tangible. Something that would appeal to his honor.

  “I want you to help me find my family.” Honesty didn’t know where the words came from; they just spilled out. But as she said them, she realized it was the perfect quest.

  Unfortunately, Jesse wasn’t so easily convinced.

  “I thought your family was dead,” he said with narrow-eyed suspicion.

  Honesty started in surprise. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Rose mentioned it.”

  Honesty licked her lips and averted her eyes. “It’s true that both my parents are now gone. My mother died when I was too little to remember, and my father . . .” She swallowed heavily. “My father was killed a few months ago. But I have a brother.” Yes, that’s it. “He’s a traveling actor. He doesn’t even know our father is gone. Surely you can understand how important it is that I find him.”

  He seemed to mull over the information. “What’s his name?”

  “George,” she said without hesitation. “George Mallory.” Deuce had used the name once down in Texas; it would be easy to remember.

  Jesse repeated the name under his breath. “George Mallory.” He frowned. “Where have I heard that name before . . . ?”

  Pride in her quick-thinking immediately gave way to apprehension. “It’s a common name. You could have it heard it anywhere!”

  If he heard her, he gave no indication. The frown remained, even as Jesse gave his head a swift shake, as if to dislodge the name from his mind. “Do you even know where this brother of yours is?”

  She paused for a heartbeat. “Uhm, not exactly. But I’ve got an inkling that he’s headed for Galveston.”

  “An inkling. You want me to give up God-only-knows how many weeks of my time for an inkling?”

  Put that way, it did sound a bit eccentric, but, she was running out of choices as well as time. “You would be handsomely rewarded,” she added brightly.

  “Oh, really?” he drawled. “With what?”

  Good question. Men could usually be swayed by only two things. She doubted he’d be impressed with the measly twelve dollars stashed in her pillow slip, and she wasn’t willing to give him the other. The only thing she had of value was the ring her father had given her.