An Unlikely Lady

by Rachelle Morgan

  Honesty’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward his horse. “Is this a trick?”

  “It’s no trick. We’re both headed in the same direction anyway, so we might as well ride together—at least to the Texas border. If we find your brother before then, great. If we don’t, then we’ll find you another escort and you can go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  Yesterday she’d have been overjoyed at the prospect of having Jesse along. But that was before she’d overheard his conversation with the Treat brothers. “Why the sudden change of heart, Jesse? Three days ago I asked you for your help and you couldn’t be budged with a pick-ax. In fact, your exact words were, ‘I already have a job.’ So why the sudden insistence on being my protector now?”

  He stared long and hard at her, making her feel somehow ashamed for asking, as if she’d ventured into forbidden territory.

  “Because maybe if I’d agreed in the first place, you wouldn’t have suffered at their hands today.”

  Her mouth went slack. Jesse? A guilty conscience? Why on earth should he feel to blame for Robert and Roscoe stealing her away? Unless . . . “What are you, an outlaw?”

  “Where did you get that notion?”

  She could hardly tell him that no one with an ounce of respectability had anything to do with men like the Treat brothers. “Well, you’re not a miner, and you’re certainly no cowboy. It seems a logical assumption about a man who professes to gamble when it suits his purposes.”

  “Do us both a favor; don’t try getting logical.” After swinging fluidly onto Gemini’s back, he turned to face her. “So what’s it going to be, darlin’? Do you want my help or don’t you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He turned his horse away.

  And Honesty suddenly panicked.

  She hadn’t a doubt that he’d leave her to suffer whatever miseries fate decided to throw at her. Going on her own would not only leave her at the mercy of every scoundrel in the Rocky Mountains, but vulnerable to Robert and Roscoe. Accepting Jesse’s help would put her at the mercy of a shameless and totally unpredictable drifter.

  Of the two, Jesse seemed the lesser of two evils. She couldn’t trust him any more than the next person, but she could not dispute the need for protection. Deuce was dead, men like Roscoe and Robert—and possibly even Jesse himself—were focusing on her in their hunt for her father’s “hidden million,” and there wasn’t a soul on earth she could turn to or trust with her secret. And Jesse had saved her . . .

  “All right!” she called out to his departing form. “You can ride with me—but just until we reach the Texas border.”

  She should be safe with him until then. Provided he never learned the truth about her relationship to Deuce.

  The first order of business, Jesse decided, was to trade that bow-backed waste of skin and bones Honesty rode for a decent mount. He didn’t dare push Gemini faster than a leisurely walk for fear of losing Honesty, who lagged behind on a mule that knew nothing of the term canter and seemed to care even less. If they’d made ten miles today, Jesse would count them lucky.

  Honesty didn’t appear bothered by the plodding pace, though. She looked around her in avid interest, soaking in the sights as if she’d never before seen the steep granite walls of the Royal Gorge or the rushing waters of the Arkansas River. She insisted, too, on stopping near the base of every waterfall they came across as if they had all the time in the world. While Jesse couldn’t deny the falls cascading down hundreds and thousands of feet of sheer rock were spectacular, the turtle’s pace frayed his temper.

  “Can’t you make that animal go any faster?” he finally snapped during a long stretch of trail.

  “Not unless we hit a downward slope. Bag-o’-Bones was not created for speed.”

  No kidding. He’d learned that during the two days it had taken him to track down the dim-witted duo.

  “Do you think they’re following us?” Honesty asked, as if reading his thoughts.

  A picture of the pair he’d left tied to a tree brought a derisive smile to his face. “I doubt they’ll be in any position to follow anyone for a long while.”

  She fell silent for another moment, then said, “I don’t think I ever thanked you for coming after me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I was after my horse.”

  A heartbeat passed before he heard a solemn, “I see.”

  Jesse waited for her to come back with some shrewish complaint. Most women did. Hell, Miranda had been an expert at laying guilt on him to distract him from her own.

  But Honesty didn’t complain. In fact, she didn’t say much of anything for the rest of the day. Jesse should have been grateful; he didn’t often have a traveling companion, and it felt odd enough having her along as it was.

  Except, with nothing but the gentle breath of the wind or the rush of the Arkansas River or an occasional hawk’s cry to break the quiet, Jesse found himself regretting his careless remark and longing for conversation. Something more than the silence that had been his mate for longer than he cared to remember.

  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. It seemed almost impossible to believe that the woman riding a horse-length behind him was the same woman who’d sashayed about the stage in pink roses a few days before, crooning to a roomful of hungry men. The same woman who’d cooly descended a staircase wearing a sizzling red dress. The same woman who turned him inside out with sultry eyes and a winsome smile.

  Now those eyes were glazed with fatigue and her smile seemed to have been left behind in the abandoned mining town.

  Jesse faced forward and frowned. She’d had a harrowing few days of it, and though she tried to hide it, it showed not only in the tired lines of her sunburned face, but in her sagging posture. They’d have to make camp soon; she’d not last much longer.

  Once again he damned the sense of honor that had not only possessed him to go after her, but compelled him to travel with her as her guard. One of the traits that had gotten him into the agency and made him a top operative was his dogged focus on any case he’d been assigned. Yet here he was, traipsing across the country with trouble in the flesh after a man he wasn’t even sure existed.

  Yet he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. The Treat brothers had wanted something, and if they had the slightest inkling who he was, that something had very likely been a way to get to him.

  Well, he’d get her as far as Texas; that should keep her out of the Treats’ reach. If they didn’t find her brother before then, he had a couple of trusted connections across the border who would see her safely to Galveston.

  They left behind the mountains of green velvet, and before them lay mile upon mile of prairie land, as golden and rippling as an angel’s hair. Aspen, oak, and cottonwoods lined a calm stretch of the river, and a pair of mule deer loitered near the timberline.

  Jesse pushed forward, knowing that they needed to find shelter someplace less open. An hour before dark, he spotted a narrow stream lined with trees.

  “We’ll make camp up ahead.”

  “Already?” Honesty cried in astonishment. “It’s not even dark yet!”

  “It will be soon. Besides, the animals need to rest, and I’m hungry.”

  Now that Jesse mentioned it, Honesty realized her stomach felt a bit pinched, too. Still, now that she was actually on her way, she was in no hurry to stop. And there was the little matter of sleeping under the aspen boughs with Jesse. This was the first time she’d been truly alone with him since the night they’d spent together. Always before, she’d known that help was only a holler away if she needed. There was no one about now—just a few crows roosting in the branches, and they’d hardly offer any protection should Jesse get it in his head to take advantage of their isolation. Though he wasn’t a huge man, he possessed a wiry power to be reckoned with, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fend him off.

  It gave her small comfort to see his stiff dismount. Then he r
olled his arm in its socket, and a sliver of sympathy cut through her anxiety. “Is your shoulder paining you?”

  “Sometimes the weather stiffens it up.” He shrugged off her concern and flipped his saddlebags over one shoulder. “Did you pack any food in that bag?”

  Food? “Uhm, I think I have a few biscuits left.”

  His drawn out sigh made her realize how ill equipped she was for this venture. She’d left with little more than a few changes of clothing and her money jar. “I wasn’t expecting to feed an army on this trip, Mr. Jones. I brought just enough to tide me over until I reached Canon City.”

  “We aren’t going to Canon City.”

  Honesty paused in mid-dismount. “Not going to—but it’s on the map!”

  He turned and pinned her with a narrow-eyed look. “What map?”

  Oh, blast it! She’d never meant for him to learn of the map she’d coaxed a peddler into drawing soon after Deuce’s death, for that might lead to more questions. Now that she’d let its existence out of the bag, she couldn’t very well hide it. “The one I got off a troupe of actors,” she improvised, then reached into her skirt pocket for the folded slip of paper. “They said they saw George with another troupe headed for Galveston.”

  “What are all these stars?” he asked, pointing to the marks that indicated Canon City, Rocky Ford, and the old Dripping Gold Mine.

  “Their stopping points.”

  Jesse raised his gaze and studied her face with an intensity that made Honesty squirm. “Who else knows about this map?”

  “Only the man I got it from.”

  Then he gave her a grim smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’, but we aren’t going to any of these places. In fact, we’re going to avoid towns altogether for a while. We’ll head south, then hitch up with the first train into New Mexico.”

  “But how am I supposed to find my brother if you plan on avoiding the places he might be?”

  “The train will take us to Trinidad. If his troupe was there, we’ll hear about it, and cut over into Texas. If he hasn’t shown up yet, we’ll hole up there till he does.”

  Honesty seethed. “I don’t recall agreeing that you would be the one to call the shots. If you expect me to pay for your protection, then you’d best take me where I want to go.”

  “Fine. As long as it isn’t Canon City.”

  She resisted the childish impulse to stomp her foot. “What do you have against Canon City?”

  “It’s the second place they’ll look.”

  Honesty felt the blood drain from her face. She didn’t need to ask who “they” were. “What’s the first?”

  “Last Hope.”

  Oh, God, she’d known he’d say that.

  A sudden horrifying thought occurred. “Do you think they’ll hurt Rose?”

  “She’s a tough lady. She can take care of herself.”

  The implication that Honesty couldn’t made her bristle.

  “I’m going to see if I can scare up a few trout. Go ahead and set up camp if you think you can manage it, and while you’re at it, try to get a fire started. Keep this with you just in case.” He tossed her the Colt from his holster. “Don’t shoot yourself.”

  As he walked away, she curled her lip and mimicked, “Don’t shoot yourself.” Arrogant ass. She’d pitched so many camps and started so many fires, she could do it blindfolded. Just because she hadn’t expected to be accosted by a pair of murdering fortune-seekers, and hadn’t packed enough food to feed a blasted army, didn’t mean she was completely incompetent.

  And, by God, she’d prove it.

  Chapter 10

  Jesse stared grimly into the ripples in the stream, his thoughts on Honesty and that map she’d produced. The marked route closely resembled the trail he’d set for himself, stretching from Colorado through New Mexico and across Texas to the coast.

  She said she’d gotten it from a troupe of actors. It was a logical explanation, considering George Mallory was a traveling thespian, and one he might have bought hook, line, and sinker if his nose wasn’t itching up a storm. Honesty was lying, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. What was she hiding from him?

  He’d bet his boots it had something to do with George Mallory. Damn, but he wished he could remember where he’d heard that name before. In Denver? Leadville? Down in Durango? No, for some reason, he felt it hadn’t been in recent months.

  Well, maybe someone at the agency could shed a little light on the mystery. It had been weeks since he’d sent in his last report to McParland, so as soon as it was safe to slip into a town, he’d wire him an update on the McGuire case and tack on an inquiry about Honesty’s brother.

  In the meantime, Honesty was like a child’s puzzle with too many pieces missing, and the pieces he did have just didn’t fit. The harder he tried to make it happen, the more it fueled his appetite for answers.

  Forty-five minutes and two scaled trout later, Jesse headed back to camp. He found Honesty sitting on the ground in front of a pile of dried logs, a saddle blanket around her shoulders to ward off the chill.

  “Why didn’t you start the fire?” he asked.

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “You didn’t leave me any matches.”

  Jesse’s shoulders slumped. Jesus, this was going to be a long trip. He reached into his pocket with a sigh, dug out a small tinderbox, and tossed it to her.

  She caught it one-handed. “Nice box. Where’d you get it?”

  “My mother gave it to me last Christmas.”

  “You have a mother?”

  “Of course I have a mother! Did you think I sprouted from the ground?”

  “I don’t guess I thought much about it at all. I just never pictured you as a man with ties.”

  She was right on that mark. Few agents he knew had ties with anyone.

  “Well, I do. My mother used to sing. You sound a lot like her.”

  “Why did she stop?”

  He paused for a moment to choose his words. “Reckon she couldn’t hear the music anymore.”

  Honesty studied him closely, and Jesse turned away lest she see more than he wanted her to and start asking more questions.

  It wasn’t until she turned the tin box over that Jesse remembered the symbol etched into the bottom. He lunged forward and swiped the tinderbox from her grasp before she could see it.

  Honesty gasped and cast him a startled look. “What did you do that for? I was just trying to figure out how it opened!”

  “The catch sticks sometimes,” he answered shortly. He made a show of popping the clasp, then presented her with the flintstone and steel stick inside, making sure to cup the bottom of the container in his hand.

  Honesty took the items with a disgusted shake of her head, then struck the flint and the steel against each other. After several unsuccessful tries, she handed the items back to Jesse with a grimace. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

  “Your mother,” she said, sitting back on her heels to watch while he took over the chore. “Where is she now?”

  “Probably still raising hell in Montana with my grandmother.” Sparks flashed from the tinder as Jesse struck the flint against the rock. “Last I heard, they’d joined up with a bunch of women lobbying for their right to vote. If I know my mother, she’ll be leading the pack.”

  “I never knew my mother.”

  “Did she die?”

  “When I was very young. My father never talked about her. I think it was too painful.”

  Holding the tangled strands of her hair out of the way, Honesty leaned forward and blew gently on a mound of dried grasses, fanning not only the glowing embers, but a banked memory of those pursed lips beneath his, and her soft, willing participation. His stomach twisted into a tight knot and as the tinder burst into a tiny flame, Jesse became painfully aware that unless he was careful, the same thing would happen to him.

  He tore himself from the spell Honesty was winding around him, whether by accident or design, and strode tow
ard his saddlebags to fetch a frying pan. If he hadn’t already agreed to escort Honesty to the Texas border, he’d have kept right on walking.

  When he turned around, he found Honesty waiting with her hand outstretched toward him.

  “What?”

  “The pan,” she said. “You caught the fish; I’ll cook them.”

  Jesse laughed and shook his head.

  “Look, I might not have gotten the fire started, but I think I can manage to fry a couple of fish.”

  A few minutes later, much to his surprise, she presented him with a plate of trout cooked so tender that it melted in his mouth. He finished off his share quickly, then closed his eyes in bliss. “That was the first decent meal I’ve had since leaving Last Hope.”

  “See? I’m not completely helpless.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  A sliver of guilt once again crept into his conscience. Had he really been that hard on her? Recalling his behavior since her escape from the Treat brothers, Jesse realized she’d taken more off him than she deserved. What kind of man yelled at a woman, drove her past her endurance, then treated her like an imbecile after an ordeal such as the one she’d endured? “Look Honesty, I know you’ve had a rough few days of it, and I probably haven’t made it any easier—”

  A soft snort told him he’d get no argument from her there.

  “—but we’ll find your brother.”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  No sooner than he did.

  Jesse leaned back and patted his pocket for a cigarette. After lighting it with a twig, he leaned back against his saddle and rested his hand on an upraised knee. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do when we find him?”

  She lifted her head.

  “He’s a traveling actor, right?” he asked. “Do you plan on traveling with him?”

  The question caught her noticeably off-guard. “I guess I never gave it much thought. I suppose I’ll decide that when I find him.”

  If they found him, Jesse thought, but kept it to himself.

  “It must have been tough losing your father.”