When she nodded again, Jesse sat on the ground with his feet braced against the earth. The belt went taut, and her arms nearly came out of their sockets as he dragged her toward him inch by agonizing inch.
Hours seem to pass before her hands finally came within reach. Jesse wrapped his fist around her fingers, then her wrists, then finally curled his hands beneath her arms and pulled her up the muddy bank, onto dry ground. Honesty climbed across the front of his body in a mass of sodden skirts and grasping hands and seized his neck in both arms. Jesse fell back, his breath coming in heavy gasps, and closed his arms around her shuddering frame. How much was due to fear and how much to cold was hard to say.
Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how small and fragile she really was. Like a child afraid of the dark, she held him as tightly as if she wanted to crawl into his skin. A fierce tenderness welled up inside him, so strong and powerful that his throat swelled shut. If she hadn’t called for him, if he hadn’t found her in time . . .
No, he wouldn’t think of that. Not while his emotions lay so close to the surface.
At last, her shuddering abated. Jess pressed his mouth to her temple, then whispered, “Let’s get you back to camp.” Still holding her, Jesse awkwardly rolled to a stand, then with a supporting arm around her waist, led her upstream.
She tensed the instant he started into the water. “No! I don’t want to go back in there.”
“There’s no other way to reach the horses, Honesty.”
Her head shook frantically back and forth; her nails bit through his shirt into his skin. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hold onto my neck and don’t let go.”
When she turned those wide, rich brown eyes on him, and he saw the soul-deep fear, his heart melted. “Do you trust me, Honesty?”
She swallowed, then finally bobbed her head.
Jesse brushed his damp fingers along her cheek and smiled. He wasn’t sure if she really trusted him or if she was just putting up a brave front, but the girl had guts, he’d give her that.
When they finally reached the campsite, Jesse led her to a rock and helped her sit, then immediately scrounged the area for whatever dead fall they hadn’t burned during the night. Soon he had a mound of tinder piled atop the charred wood and fresh logs, and a small fire flickering.
“You’d best get out of those clothes.”
She nodded with jerky movements and lifted blue fingers to her blouse. Jesse watched her fumble with the buttons, a strange loss spreading through his chest at her blind obedience, as if the quicksand had sucked all the spirit out of her body.
She managed to pop one button through its hole, then reached for another and whimpered.
Jesse cursed.
He unfolded his body and gently brushed her hands aside. “Let me do that.”
Drops of water clung to her lashes. Her ruby lips had turned a deep purple. Each button he unfastened revealed more of her skin; blue veins ran through the creamy flesh he’d admired from the first moment he’d clapped eyes on her. The swells of her breasts became visible, the mounds goose bumped from cold, the nipples tight and hard. Jesse swallowed, and cursed his body’s reaction to her nudity. What kind of lecher was he, to get aroused by a woman in her condition? “Did you bring other clothes?” he asked over the roughness in his throat.
“In m-my b-b-bag.”
He tore himself away from her and fished through the worn brocade carpetbag for several moments before releasing a frustrated curse and dumping the contents on the ground. No weapons, no provisions; only a couple extra shirts, skirts, and a set of plain cotton unmentionables. He’d seen tin-horns better prepared for travel. He grabbed a full change of clothes, not caring if they matched, then collected his duster and a shirt from his own bags to dry her off.
After fastening the duster around her capefashion, he managed to strip her without once looking at the body that so often haunted his dreams. Another log on the fire sent up a shower of sparks and soon blazed away the chill of the morning. Jesse led her closer to the fire and set her beside it. “Can you dress yourself, or must I do it for you?”
“I think I can manage.”
Her teeth weren’t chattering as badly, at least. Her lips had begun to regain their normal color, and her voice sounded calmer, too. She still shivered, but even that seemed to be abating. Once she got into the dry clothes, Jesse felt sure she’d make a full recovery.
He wished he was that sure about himself.
He grabbed the coffee pot from his packs and strode to the stream. There he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, barely aware of plunging his hand in the water. His own limbs started trembling uncontrollably. With rage. With relief. If he hadn’t heard her hollering his name, if he’d gotten there a few minutes later . . .
He ripped his hand from the stream and returned to the campsite, his throat and chest tight with an emotion he could neither identify nor wanted to examine.
Honesty was sitting next to the fire with her hands stretched out to capture the warmth. She gave no sign of noticing as he scooped grounds into the pot and shoved it on a flat rock jutting over the fire. For a long time, she said nothing. Silence stretched tight and dense between them.
“It seems I owe you my life again.”
The fear he’d fought so hard to deny manifested itself in fury. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
She flinched. “Trying to get to the other side. I saw something glitter and I wanted to get a better look. I thought I might find gold.”
“The only gold you’ll find in this stream is fool’s gold.”
“I realize that now.”
Her feeble answer took some of the fire out of his temper. “We’ll stay here for the day. Let you rest up—”
“We can’t stay! What if the men have picked up our trail?”
Damn, how could he have forgotten? By now, the Treat brothers would have untangled themselves from their trusses. And though they’d be too sore to do much traveling, Honesty did have a point. The wisest recourse was to keep moving. “Are you sure you’re ready to travel?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
La Veta was one of those overnight towns cut into the edge of the mountains to accommodate the rapid expansion of the railway. A mix of native lumber and stone, the buildings rose against a backdrop of lofty pines and scrub-coated hills. Even though it was well into June, patches of snow clung to the sides of the barren hills.
Honesty guided her mule out of the path of an oncoming team of six. She didn’t even care that La Veta wasn’t on her map. They’d ridden hard to find a place to restock on supplies, trade in the mule, and rest their weary bones. From the looks of the place, they’d have no trouble accomplishing their goals. She couldn’t help but compare the town with Last Hope. The place teemed with activity. Rail workers, mostly Orientals with soot-stained faces and dungarees strode with heads down and shoulders stooped. Gentlemen gathered on the corners discussing business, and now and then Honesty spotted a lady leaving a store or strolling down the walk, peering into windows displaying everything from the latest fashions to children’s toys.
The sight of them in their tight skirts, coiffed hair, and frilly parasols made her keenly aware of her own state. She hadn’t washed her clothes or hair in days, and smelled of dirt, horse, and sweat, and the sun had baked her skin a pale brown.
“We’ll get a couple rooms at the hotel yoder,” Jesse said, pointing to a two-story brick structure on the corner near the center of town.
Honesty nodded. Since the mishap at the creek Jesse had been withdrawn, speaking only when necessary, and even then he kept the conversation terse and to the point. She couldn’t quell the feeling that she’d somehow disappointed him. More, she’d failed herself. Protect herself? Ha. What kind of fool walked blindly into quicksand? If she let herself think about it, she could still feel the sand sucking at her feet, the heart-stopping terror of no escape. If Jesse hadn’t co
me along when he had . . .
Honesty shook away the thought as they reached the hotel. Jesse pulled up in front the porch rail that wrapped around two sides of the structure, and Honesty watched in envy as he swung fluidly out of the saddle. He never appeared affected by the long days in the saddle or the even longer nights of sleeping on the cold, hard ground. She, on the other hand, ached in places she hadn’t known could ache.
She braced herself for the strain on her muscles and prepared to swing her leg over the cantle when hands pressed against her waist from behind. Honesty’s heart tripped over itself and an instant sizzle of awareness branded itself into her skin. She glanced over her shoulder into the swirling blue-green of Jesse’s eyes and saw from the tense set of his jaw that he hadn’t been unaffected, either.
Immediately after setting her on her feet, he strode to the hotel entrance. Honesty followed him into the lobby, empty save for a bill-capped youth behind the counter in white shirt and sleeve garters.
A few minutes later, Jesse escorted her up the stairs. His hand at the low of her back sent a funny little thrill up her spine. How she made it to the room without her knees giving way, she hadn’t a clue. She clutched the hem of her waist-length jacket while Jesse unlocked and opened the door to a pretty little room papered in white lilies on a burgundy backdrop. Floral lithographs hung on the wall above a chest of drawers. A pair of Queen Anne chairs sat beneath the window, flanking a rounded table topped with a white doily and a prismed oil lamp. White eyelet lace pillows lay against plumper companions dressed in burgundy at the head of the floral spread.
Jesse set her carpetbag near the door, then stepped back with his thumbs hooked into the low-slung gun belt around his hips. “Do you need anything before I go?”
Honesty glanced at him in surprise. “You’re leaving?”
“I have a few errands to run. I’ll be back before supper.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“You might as well relax. I’ll see about having a bath brought up.”
“A lot of good that will do. I have nothing clean left to wear.”
“I’ll see what I can do about some clean clothes, too, while I’m out. Do not leave this room, understood?”
Before she could answer, he slipped out the door. A strange emptiness invaded the room, and Honesty fought the impulse to call him back. To beg him not to leave her alone in this strange town, with these strange people. He’d been so distant with her since leaving the creek . . .
What if he didn’t come back?
She knew what was happening. She was letting herself get too attached to the scoundrel. Letting her emotions get tangled up, letting her heart get involved. She knew better than to allow that to happen, yet she didn’t know how to stop it. Or if she even could stop it.
He was abrasive and overbearing at times, but he was also irresistibly confident, infinitely gentle, and unquestionably exciting. And no matter what, he was there.
But for how long?
Jesse would not be with her forever; he’d made that clear from the start. She wasn’t sure she even wanted him to be.
She wrapped her arms around her waist and wandered to the window. Shortly he appeared on the boardwalk below, scanned the length of the street in both directions, then propped his Stetson on his head and sauntered toward the depot in that long, loose-limbed stride that always sent her pulse racing.
He’d asked what she would do when she found what she was looking for. In truth, Honesty hadn’t allowed herself to ponder her future. But now she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t start thinking about what she would do.
There was a time when she’d dreamed of finding a man like her father, who could see past the facade she wore for survival’s sake, who could make her heart sing, who could challenge the skills she’d acquired over her colorful lifetime. God, how she wanted someone to believe in, and who believed in her. Someone who would accept her for the woman she was and the woman she wanted to be—a woman of independent thinking, unconventional living, a woman who paved her own destiny.
Was Jesse that kind of man?
Once again she wished she knew what he wanted with her father. How she could ask him without giving away the fact that she not only knew McGuire, but that she was his only living relative? What would he do if he discovered that connection?
What would she do if Deuce had indeed stashed a fortune, and Jesse meant to take it? Or what if Deuce had left nothing, and Honesty was wasting all this time chasing after fool’s gold?
Oh, she could play this game till the moon turned blue and it wouldn’t get her anywhere. Until she found whatever Deuce had left behind, she had no future to plan.
She sighed and started to turn away from the window when a sign at the end of town caught her eye. LA VETA SURVEYOR OFFICE: LAND AND MINE HOLDINGS.
Oh, my gosh. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Didn’t surveyors travel all over the area? Wouldn’t they know better than anyone if there was a place of the flowing stones? It was a long shot, but if it could narrow down her search . . .
Wasting not another moment debating the issue, Honesty hastened to the bed and dug through her carpetbag for her money jar. Taking only the old map, she rushed to the door, pausing long enough to peek up and down the hallway, just in case Jesse was lurking nearby. After his reaction by the creek, she had no desire to rile his temper again; he might decide that she wasn’t worth the trouble and pawn her off on someone else.
But he’d said he wouldn’t be back until supper . . .
Honesty stepped into the hall and gave the door a tug shut behind her. She’d only be gone a minute. Jesse would never have to know.
Chapter 12
He heard her long before he saw her.
Riding on the rusty notes of an out-of-tune piano came a voice of such seductive familiarity that Jesse would have melted on the spot if he wasn’t so furious. Only one woman had a voice of such mesmerizing power.
And only one woman would dare use it as a weapon.
At first, he couldn’t believe she’d be so foolish. Then he remembered who he was dealing with.
Fists clenched at his sides, he stormed down the center of Main Street toward the gaudy gold and black building set in the middle of town. Damn her ornery hide. If he had a lick of sense, he’d get on his horse and ride in the opposite direction as fast and as far away as the animal would take him.
Except he knew that a bunch of rowdy rail workers and gold seekers wouldn’t settle for just a song from the sweet little liar’s lips. As soon as she finished getting them hot and bothered with her saucy smile and sultry eyes, they’d storm her pedestal and make off with her faster than he could say “Eureka.”
The closer he got to the combination bordello–dance hall, the clearer it became that his prophecy wasn’t far from coming true. Shouts and whistles drowned out the lilting velvet of her voice. Hollow thumping on puncheon boards and raucous encouragement joined the clatter.
Reaching the batwing tongue-and-groove doors, Jesse stood outside on the boardwalk and peered in. There she stood, on a table in the center of the room, tapping one high-ankled shoe and flipping the hem of a drab, faded calico gown that showed the week’s worth of travel in the torn hem and sleeve. Yet her bearing suggested she wore the finest Dresden silk. From her mouth spilled bawdy lyrics inviting each and every one of the shoulder-jostling, mouth-gaping, bug-eyed swains to her “parlor.” A red haze crept through his bloodstream and blurred his vision. Pure primal reflex had Jesse reaching for his Colt, then cursing. What was he going to do—barge in there and shoot his way to her side? That would be something straight out of one of Ned Buntline’s dime novels.
Oh, what the hell.
He drew his weapon and fired into the air.
Instant silence fell over the crowd. Plaster showered down from the ceiling.
“Jesse!”
“Show’s over, boys,” he announced. “Honesty, let’s go.”
She stared at him
in gape-mouthed wonder, making no move toward him until Jess stretched out his other hand in silent command.
Then she smiled, and the world shrank to the two of them. Jesse’s mouth went dry and his chest swelled as she gracefully swung herself off the table and pushed through the throng of men. Her blind obedience had his mind spinning back to a moment in the Scarlet Rose when she’d serenaded him with a ballad wrenching enough to send a pack of wolves retreating into their cups and their tears.
The memory made unexpected longing well up inside him, and he was seized with an urge to grab this woman, tuck her under his heart, and hold on for dear life.
Two steps away from him, a railroad worker the size of a bull stepped into her path. “Whaddya think yer do—”
The barrel of Jesse’s Colt pressed between the man’s eyes. “This woman sings for no one but me.”
He reached around her self-appointed henchman to grab Honesty’s hand and draw her to his side.
“Thank God you came,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t be thanking God just yet.”
Before she could ponder the meaning behind that remark, he dragged her through the recovering crowd, out the front doors, and down the boardwalk, then up a back alley that sent shivers of déjà vu skittering up her spine. Any moment, she expected Robert to pop out at the end of the alley. She gasped for breath, as much from the crazy pace as from the memory, and tried to keep up with Jesse’s long, strong strides.
She barely caught a glimpse of the young bellhop’s startled expression as Jesse ushered her through the hotel lobby and up the stairs. It didn’t occur to her to call out for help. In truth, Honesty had never felt so honored in her life as when Jesse appeared in that dance hall and demanded her hand in front of God and everyone. No man had ever looked at her with such ownership, and no man, not even Deuce, would have challenged a room full of rowdy men with such unwavering arrogance. For a moment there, Honesty knew what it felt like to belong to someone, and the experience filled her with such profound joy that she couldn’t stop grinning like a simpleton.
An Unlikely Lady Page 14