by Tanya Hanson
His response to her was likely something a natural man couldn’t help. Of a sudden, Jessy Belle realized she had made a powerful mistake at the start of her new life. A decent man would surely shun a woman who acted so forward and unladylike, specially if he was close friends with a preacher and a nun.
Worse, he was bound to find out her identity on his rambles. Why, she still wore the same dress she’d been hanged in. Folks would describe it. And her.
A tear tickled her eyelid.
“Why, Sister Mary, what’s wrong? How can I help? Is it your throat again? Did the honey and chamomile help at all?”
“It’s not that. I can’t sew!” Jessy Belle’s whisper shook. Likely she’d be a pretend postulant long enough to give this gray dress a try. But that wasn’t why she needed a good cry at this time.
“Oh, Mary.” Teresa put her altar cloth safe in her basket and gathered Jessy Belle close, her face staying sweet and kind. She wasn’t much past Jessy Belle’s age but sounded like a ma. “You certainly do know how. You just can’t remember yet. I’ll help you sew. We’ll all help you.”
Jessy Belle gave a hug back but her whole body burned, and not like it had in Cleeland Redd’s arms. This was shame, not love. She’d just about let her disguise slip. But worse, she felt guilty, always having to lie to these fine women who had taken her in and made her one of their own.
Something Ahab had done on his way to hell. Leastwise these nuns were leading her to salvation.
Nodding, Jessy Belle figured her ailment would excuse her shaky voice. “I won’t let you down.”
“That isn’t possible. You are now a daughter of God.”
Jessy Belle would have burst into real life sobs just then if Renegade hadn’t started whining like Satan was chasing him into Purgatory, a place she’d only recently learned about.
Off in the setting sun, she saw a figure small as an ant on a rotting melon. Redd? He’d said he’d be away two days, maybe three. It couldn’t be time. While she trembled to her toes recalling his kiss, she remembered one goal for his trip.
Finding her identity and who had hurt her.
Her heart stopped. If he had, he’d know she’d only hurt herself, paying her dues for the crimes she’d done. Even reciting every God-fearing thing between Matins and Compline couldn’t forgive that.
And if he brought such bad news, she didn’t want these fine sisters to know.
“I do think that’s Mister Redd.” She pointed out the window, certain she’d recognized Snapper’s gait. “Would you mind if I saddled your buttermilk and rode out to meet him? To thank him for saving me?”
Teresa’s mouth went wide with questions. “But Mary, do you even know how to ride? My Blossom’s truly ornery. I plan to sell her and use the money for St. Ignatius.”
Jessy Belle wanted to sink through the crusty dirt. This holy woman had no idea how easy even ornery horseflesh seduced Jessy Belle. And how she could seduce it right back into getting itself stolen.
“‘Course you’re right,” she whispered, realizing she had a hoax to keep up. “I’ll just wait outside.”
So out in the dusty yard, she watched Redd approach and Renegade tear off to greet him. The wind kicked up its heels and clanked the pearls inside her hem against her legs. She wasn’t sure what to expect, or how to feel. He might be bent on hauling her back to jail and get his reward.
Her heart hammered. But just for a bit, she’d pretend he was her man coming home from the trail, waiting to take her into his willing arms. Get her with child if she wasn’t growing his babe already. After all, he’d kissed her like he meant it. He was lonely. He was unattached. Same as her, nun or not.
Red dust flew against the sunshine, but man and horse were a sight to see regardless of her nerves. They might as well have been carved from the same pounds of flesh. He reined Snapper to a stop almost in front of her. With his black Stetson perched so low, she couldn’t read his eyes. But he was alone. No lawman trailed behind. She sighed anyway. He might well have discussed her fate with one. With a whole posse. He might be just keeping his word, about coming back and discussing significant things with her first, before letting her get strung up one more time.
Cleeland Redd dismounted. When she took the reins, Snapper watched her like a friend, same as ’Gade.
“I’ll tend Snap,” she muttered, waiting and worrying.
His smile was slow, the same one she’d seen that morning in the wagon. She relaxed somewhat. Truly it was not the smile of a sly man who’d discovered her dark secrets and planned to turn her in.
“Pleased if you do, Mary,” he said with the gentle voice she’d heard when he rescued her on the trail.
He was still using his ma’s name for her, and his eyes didn’t look upon her like their kiss had made her a soiled dove.
Her heart warmed and her nerves settled, and she smiled right back.
Then her heart stopped. With eyes that changed to hard black pebbles, Redd’s gaze raked her like she was fish-innards. She knew he knew who she really was. Knew she was worth one hundred dollars alive or dead.
Money a man could use for a decent plot of land. And someday, support a decent woman.
“Good afternoon, Miz Perkins. Or would you allow me to call you Jessy Belle?”
A decent woman that could never be her.
****
Redd glared the scout’s glare that always got him his way. No need to speak another word to the little thief, liar. Fraud.
But her face paled so white his heart couldn’t stop a tug.
“Redd? Mister Redd, it’s not what you....” she whispered, slowly leading Snap toward the barn, him alongside. “I mean, I reckoned you’d figure me out. Recognize me somehow, on your rambles.”
She cast her gaze to her toes. The warm wind rustled her lovely hair, unbound but tied back with an ugly little scarf like the other sisters wore. His fingers itched to wind in it. “Thank you for keeping your word.”
“How’s that?” He raised his eyebrows. Still she didn’t look at him, and he could barely hear.
“You coming back to explain things, first. Whatever you found out. You promised.”
Redd tipped his brim, anger, heat, betrayal swamping his shoulders. Shame, too. He’d given his honor to protect something that was criminal and loathsome, not helpless at all. “Don’t get too comfy. It’s not going to last long. There’s a reward on your head.”
“You’ll turn me in?”
In front of him he could sense her knees collapsing, so he grabbed her. Ground-tethered Snap. Hauled her to a wretched hitching post to lean on. Not gentle, teeth grinding hard at the heat assaulting his fingers upon touching her arm, even through the cloth of her sleeve.
“I’m ever a man for justice and minding the law.” His hard words smacked his own ears.
“But it’s not what you think.” She clutched the crosspiece hard, and little slivers of blood seeped from her thumb. The knife wound had yet to close. Otherwise she seemed a good distance more hale and hearty from what he’d come across yesterday.
Redd gave out a snort. “I think it’s exactly what I think, Miz Jessy Belle. You’re a horse thief who got hung for it. Who cut you down, anyway?”
Now she raised her eyes to heaven, clasping her fingers tight in a ball at her waist. Hell, had she learned to pray while he was gone?
“Nobody,” she whispered.
“Like hell.” He didn’t mind the cuss and didn’t say sorry. She wasn’t a nun or a lady. Nothing but an outlaw.
“It’s true.” She glared at him, then wrestled her arms behind herself, whether to stop from punching him or from touching him like she’d done when he left. The memory stirred something deep inside. Not only the crotch of his denims but also his heart. He hated both sensations. “Nobody helped me, Redd. It’s a trick Ahab taught me.”
With some fascination, he watched her pull her hair into a twist, then she reached for the knife at his belt, stabbed it into the blond mound. “I always had a knife in
my boot. I hid it in my hair like that, wrapped my neck in canvas strips. I was wearing ’em when I got caught. To keep my chest flat as a boy.”
Her face turned a pretty purple, and he hardened his heart again, forced the memory of her bosom from his head.
“Even me being Perkins, those jailers gave me my modesty in that cell,” she said. “Once they found out I was no boy. And at the hanging, the posse ran off quick. Likely couldn’t stomach stringing up a skinny girl. So I had just enough time. The world was already turning black when I cut free.”
She gazed up at the clouds again, and a shudder traveled from her head down her back. A normal woman would have inspired him to gather her close, to warm her and to comfort her. To halt those jitters. But not an outlaw woman. Who if she thought herself skinny was dead wrong. She filled out all the right places for a gal. His cock twitched, and he tightened his knees.
“Well, what do you plan now?” Redd asked, hating that her wits and her bravery and her strength at getting loose from a noose was all starting to inspire him.
Jessy Belle looked him full on, eyes dripping tears. “Redd, truth to tell, it was me alerted that rancher. I have mended my ways. It was dark. He couldn’t mean to shoot my horse. As for....as for me getting left behind, well. It’s always been Ahab’s creed. Run for your life and don’t look back. No matter who or what.”
“Not even his sister?” Redd’s grunt got Snapper whickering in return. His arms folded across his chest. “And you won’t identify him to the law?”
Her white cheeks grew red like face paint. “We had the same mama.” The simple words once again threatened to touch his heart. “But he won’t be found. He, all of ’em, can hide in thin air.” She waved her arms around the wind-tossed countryside of mesquite and towering rock. “Done so his whole life.”
Her lids dropped like they had when she was passed out on the trail. Like they had when she slept in his arms. But he toughened up so her trembles and the recollections didn’t move him. He reckoned he owed her the truth, just like she’d told him just now.
“Well, Miz Jessy Belle,” he said, leaning next to her against the hitching post. “I sorely need cash for my land. I turn you in, you can tell the sheriff the truth. About doing your good deed alerting old Tinker. That ought to sway some good your way. You already paid a price with your horse and your hangin’. And I intend to give Sister half my reward for the troubles you caused her.”
Her red cheeks paled again. “What trouble? I’m earning my keep. I did laundry after Matins. Cooked a ham hock, got beans soaking. I’m even learning to sew a nun dress.”
“I won’t chance you bringing more danger to Sister Adelaide. You killed her daughter.”
“What?” Her voice squawked. Letting go of the hitching post, she stumbled into a heap on the ground. Eyes rounder than two full moons looked up at him. “Killed who? What are you on about?” Her voice was still soft from her injury, but he heard the shock, the pain.
Part of him wanted to help her to her feet, but the other part struck terror at touching her warmth again. “In Butter Creek.” He heard his own harshness.
Jessy Belle sat in the dirt, breathing hard. “Sister Adelaide’s dead wrong. You’re wrong. Nuns can’t have daughters.”
Redd snorted again, but wondered if he’d blundered. Sister was incognito and living realistic as a nun. Compromising her disguise could do real harm. “I meant, it was a niece she raised up and loved like a daughter.”
“None of us killed anybody. Perkins gang aren’t killers. I swear on it.” Her words, louder than before, must have hurt her throat, for she grabbed at her neck with one hand and rubbed.
“You haven’t been truthful yet.”
“Well, believe this, Mister Redd. We don’t kill. Never have. Never will.”
“I disbelieve you.”
“Well, I speak the truth. Last Christmastime, one mush head named Rolly Gitts brought a hostage into our camp. Texas. Canadian River. Wanted to ravish and kill her. But Ahab refused.”
“What a gentleman.”
Jessy Belle jerked to her feet, stayed far away. Hung tight to the post like she’d float to the clouds if she didn’t. “Well, she ain’t dead, and Rolly is.”
Redd didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes. “I’ll say it again. What a gentleman.”
“Her man rescued her, and lightning got Rolly. As for Butter Creek, I don’t deny we...did some business there.” Jessy Belle’s voice, still nearly silent, steadied and strained. For a flash, Redd reminded himself of her sad circumstance yesterday, but fury outdid any softness. “But killing wasn’t among it. Trust me, Redd. You got to. That Christmas, Ahab gave me my first dress.” She ran her fingers up and down the calico. “After we all got shot up at the Canadian River. That’s when I...I decided to become respectable.”
“Took you long enough. It’s September. Truth is, Sister Adelaide’s got Pinkertons on the case, and you been lying from the start. Soon as you opened your eyes. Who might I believe? A grown up nun or fake one? An outlaw girl to boot.”
“‘Course I lied.” She had a coughing fit, then settled herself. Spoke as loud as she was able. “You might have been the law. Or friend of the law. Besides which, Ahab has allies everywhere. When he’s around, the hills have eyes. Trees grow ears. I had to be careful.”
He sputtered, hurt. “I’m carrying goods for a passel of nuns. And you still thought ill of me?”
“No.” Jessy Belle turned from him. She was quiet so long a dust devil came alive a half mile down the road and died before she spoke again. “No. I fell in love with you.”
In love? Redd tried to turn his heart to stone. Another typhoon of dust rose as he kicked the post. ’Course her words couldn’t help move him, just a little. She was beautiful, and he’d felt stabs of desire for her more than once. But she was a dissembler. How could he ever believe anything from that pretty outlaw mouth?
“Ain’t love, Miz Jessy Belle.” Cleeland Redd told her the truth. “Just gratitude at getting rescued.”
“Nobody’s ever been kind to me before.” Her nose pointed up to the sky. “But I know how I feel.”
Nobody’s ever been kind to her before? He frowned. At least he’d had Ma. And Tawana. But before he could think too hard on any more of this subject, something he’d forgotten poked his belly, and he recalled the stick from her dug-up grave. He dug in a vest pocket and held it out to her. Brought himself back to the reality of dealing with an outlaw woman who couldn’t be believed or trusted.
“Reckon this belongs to you. Take it.”
Chapter Five
Jessy Belle knew what it was right off. Dagnab, she’d carved the thing herself. Her grave marker. The skin down her spine all but crawled off the bone.
“Take it.” Redd said again. Harsh. His tone set more gooseflesh rising, but she didn’t obey him. She might love him, was certain she did, but those days were over, letting some man order her around.
“I said, take it. Found this under a juniper tree. And a dug-up empty grave.” He didn’t sound like himself at all. “Thought you might identify it.”
Jessy Belle choked hard but hoped he didn’t notice, and took the stick from his hand after a short time of defying him. She saw something else fixed on the stick. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it wanted to bust them. She’d had no part in slashing these particular letters against the wood.
And neither had her brother, the ignorant fool.
Dread all but swamped her like the sweat had when she found herself dying. Shaking her head, shaking hard, she ran off to the gathering room to the one friend she had.
Or prayed she had. A friend to whom she now brought danger. Instead, she headed for the stable. Ornery old Blossom would do better than nothing to get her out of here, leave the nuns far behind before Ahab came to lay ruin. The pearls slapped against her ankles as she ran.
Tonight, in the deep darkness while everybody else slept, she’d steal Blossom. Like she’d done a hundred others.
But Teresa had gone ahead of her, was gently currying the old mare in the stuffy, dark stall. That was one task Jessy Belle also enjoyed and did well. Ahab insisted on good treatment for the horses he stole. She grabbed a brush, but Teresa rushed to hold Jessy Belle in her arms. She wasn’t much older, but Jessy Belle hung on her like a motherless child.
“Why, Sister Mary? What frets you? Has Mister Redd brought you bad news? Has he...”
So close to Teresa’s neck, Jessy Belle saw the hard swallow as her new friend fought for words. “Has he, did he...find out who hurt you?” Freeing one hand, Teresa started to finger the long set of beads she wore tied to the belt at her waist.
Like a sudden summer squall over the high plains, sobs ripped from Jessy Belle’s middle, from her soul itself. “I know who hurt me. Oh, Sister Teresa, I’m bad. I’m evil. I brought it upon myself. And now Mister Redd knows. And I might get hanged again. Or at least tossed into a hoosegow.”
Teresa crooned nonsense sounds against Jessy Belle’s scarf. “Now, settle yourself. Nothing can be that bad. We are all sinners who come up short.”
“No. It’s not the same as every day sins.” She shook her head wildly. “Teresa, I truly am evil. I’m an outlaw. And I almost got hanged yesterday.”
In the loudest whisper she could manage, she told Teresa her blame-filled tale. The two sat together on a bale of hay.
“Oh, Sister Mary.” Teresa’s comforting arms tightened even more. “Then you have truly been led to the right place.”
Jessy Belle gulped. “A convent? Where I can’t ever...love a man?”
Teresa looked around as if to make sure they were alone. “This is the best place to be if you’re running from someone. Something you did.”
“Well, I get the idea of sanctuary. Sister Avery mentioned it last night. How you took in Will. But...”
“No. Deeper than that. I’m someone like you.”
“An outlaw? I don’t believe you.”
“Well, I am thief and a murderer. Running from the law. I am no nun. No postulant. Teresa Avila isn’t my name at all. Saint Teresa lived long ago in Avila. A great mystic and theologian.”