Follow The Wind

by Janelle Taylor

  “I’ll kill him. I won’t let him steal our ranch or harm my family. I would have taken care of him by now if it wouldn’t get me into jail. My family depends on me. I can’t help them from prison. We can’t get any proof against him, but we know he’s guilty. You can help us prove it or destroy the snake. You won’t have to do all the work or take all the risks. I’ll ride with you. Whatever happens, we won’t let you take the blame and get into trouble; you have my word on it. Please, Navarro, take the job. I need you.”

  Navarro shook his head as those blue eyes pulled on him like a strong current and the sweet voice washed over him strangely. You must be exhausted! he reasoned to himself. “How would you kill him, boy? You can’t even take care of yourself.”

  Jessie pointed to a broken branch at a distance. “See that busted limb?”

  Navarro’s narrow gaze located it and he nodded.

  “Keep your eyes on it.” Jessie pulled her pistol and fired. She pointed out five other targets and skillfully struck each one.

  As she reloaded and holstered her weapon, Navarro remarked, “Shu! You didn’t need my help back there. That gun’s no stranger to your hand. There’s something odd about you…” he murmured, staring intently at her.

  From the Apache guests they’d had at the ranch, Jessie recognized the Indian expletive, but said nothing to the man. “I was trying to avoid trouble because I had to go unnoticed back there so no one would discover my mission or my sex.” She removed her hat and allowed the long henna braid to escape confinement. “I’m Jessica Lane, but I’m called Jessie. Men like Wilbur Fletcher aren’t afraid of a woman, no matter how good she shoots. And his men wouldn’t hesitate to kill one if she got in their way. I’m good with a gun and horse, Navarro, but the odds are against me. With your help we can halt that bastard. Are you for hire? Name your price. My papa will agree and pay you.”

  Jessie knew it was daring and maybe crazy, but she casually loosened the plait and freed her hair into an auburn cascade that flowed down her back. Perhaps a woman would be more persuasive than a “boy,” and she had to use all she possessed to ensnare him. After all, if he took the job, he would learn her sex soon. As she fluffed her locks, she heard Navarro murmur, “An isdzan…”

  Navarro’s mouth hadn’t closed yet. “Jess” was a woman, a beautiful woman. Her eyes were as light a blue as a spring sky. Her hair was the color of a chestnut mare under a brilliant sun that freed its fiery soul. The loosened flow of reddish-brown against her flesh softened her features. The startled man watched her use a bandanna to wipe dirty smudges from her silky skin. Her nose wasn’t small and dainty, and looked as if it had been broken long ago, but it sat nicely on her smooth face. Her full mouth was appealing and inviting. He felt his breathing and heartbeat quicken as he gazed at her parted lips. Her eyes were large, too, but expressive and captivating, the kind that could draw a man into them like an enticing pool during summer heat. Her jawline almost traveled to a point at her chin but had been softly rounded at the last minute of creation. Her height must be about five three or four. Compared to his six two, she was a little bundle. Whyever, he worried, would a good father let her—

  “What have you decided, Navarro? We need to get moving before we lose all light.” Jessie felt strange under the scrutiny of those hazel eyes that were more brown than green. “Are you going to refuse your help and let Fletcher murder us or do you want to earn a nice payment for the use of your guns and wits for a while?”

  Navarro let out a deep breath. He knew what hired guns would do with this beauty, and it angered him. He also knew what it was like to be totally helpless. She needed him, believed in him, and must even trust him to have discarded her disguise like this.

  He couldn’t do anything about his problems except try to outrun them, so going with her was as good as anything else he could do for a while. Luckily he came along while that drunk was attacking her. For all the help she was getting from the cowardly men present, Jake could have dragged her upstairs and…“Are you crazy, woman? Why would your father let you go into a rough saloon to hire a gunslinger? I should heat up your britches for pulling a stunt like this. Ride home before you get into more trouble. I can’t fight beside a female. We’d both get killed.” Yet he knew that female warriors could fight as well as men, sometimes better, as the Apaches were one of the few tribes who allowed skilled women to go on raids or into wars.

  “Then I’ll battle Fletcher alone. Hiring a gunslinger was my idea, but Papa finally agreed with it. I’m not reckless, Navarro; I wasn’t traveling alone. I brought Big Ed—one of our ranch hands—with me, but he was killed in an accident yesterday. His horse was spooked by a rattler and he was thrown. I buried him under rocks about twenty-five miles west of town. This sorrel was his. I was too close to town to turn back, and what I have to do is important. You may not love or need anybody, but I do. I’ll risk anything for my family and home. I’m sorry about whatever or whoever hurt you so badly that you lost all feelings of compassion. If you need another reason to help us, it’s a high-paying job.”

  Jessie noted his defensive reaction to her perception of him. Quickly she went on. “Everybody knows San Angelo is a rough and ready town. That’s where you find gunslingers, and it’s closer to the ranch than El Paso or Waco. I was keeping to myself, watching and waiting for the best man to arrive. He did, when you appeared. If your answer is still no, then I’ll head on to another town to continue my search. I can’t go back to San Angelo and risk being recognized. But I’m not going home without help,” she stated with determination.

  His gaze darkened. “That’s rash and dangerous, Jessie. The men you’ll meet on the trail and in rough towns won’t hesitate to use you any way they like. You’re a beautiful woman, and all alone. It’s crazy! You can’t do it.”

  Jessie warmed at his compliment, unbidden concern, and smoldering gaze. “Then, help me. That way I won’t get into any more trouble.”

  Navarro appeared surprised. “How do you know I’m any different, any safer to be around?” he reasoned, looking frustrated and uneasy.

  “If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking like this. You strike me as a good man who’s had a lot of bad luck. For some reason or reasons, you don’t want anyone to get close to you. That’s your business, Navarro, and I won’t pry. But you can use this job, can’t you? Is it so bad to help someone who needs you desperately while you earn a living?”

  The desperado wasn’t sure if he liked the way she made him feel. It was scary, and he hated being afraid of anything. If this woman knew the truth, or even half the truth about him, she would take off like a scared rabbit. “Don’t you have any brothers? What about your father? Ranch hands?”

  Jessie decided she had to be totally honest to win over this wary man. “Papa is getting old and stiff, and he’s no gunman. My only brother has a crippled foot and doesn’t see well. Tom can’t run or ride or fight. The children at school teased him and picked on him, so I teach him at home now. We have fifteen men working on the ranch, but Fletcher has about twenty-five. Our hands are good men, but only two of them are highly skilled with guns: Miguel and Jimmy Joe. Papa’s afraid if we do too much shooting back or if we attack them, it’ll cause more trouble and danger.”

  Jessie’s gaze remained locked with Navarro’s attentive one. “We don’t want to endanger our hands. They’re more than our working men; they’re friends. At first, Papa ignored their bouts of rustling and fence-cuttings, but it got worse. Sometimes they simply shot steers or horses and left them to rot as warnings. The men try to avoid Fletcher’s hirelings in town, but it’s hard to take humiliation for a long time, and those bastards keep provoking our hands. We’ve had men shot at while guarding the herd at night. We’ve had fires in the sheds, foxes locked in the chicken coop, herds stampeded—and more. Last week we found calves driven into mud and fighting for their lives. There were tracks all around the area. I don’t know what he’ll pull next. In fact, I don’t think Papa realizes just how
evil and dangerous Fletcher is. Papa’s a strong and proud man, but he can’t battle such odds, and that hurts him. I’m scared, Navarro, scared my family will be killed. I hate being afraid and feeling helpless. I’m not a coward or a weakling or a fragile female. I work as hard and long as any man on our ranch, but this is one trouble I can’t handle for Papa. I know this is a desperate act, but it’s the only way I know to solve it. When I thought Jake was going to kill me, I lost my wits and courage. The minute you walked in and took control, they returned. I need you as my partner in this.”

  Her confession and pleading expression caused him to admit, “Nobody has ever needed me, Jessie, just used me. I …” Navarro twisted in his saddle and looked to their rear. “Riders coming fast. Could be trouble. Let’s get out of sight.”

  Jessie led the sorrel into the trees and scrubs. Navarro moved in behind her, but it was too late. Gunshots headed in their direction.

  Jessie yanked her rifle free and dismounted quickly, dropping the horse’s reins to the ground. Navarro did the same. They prepared to defend themselves.

  “Probably Jake’s three brothers,” she surmised accurately.

  Their pursuers dismounted and claimed the other side of the road not far away where better concealment and protection than their location was offered. Gunfire was exchanged.

  “Your brother drew first!” Navarro shouted. “I tried to talk him out of it! Ask anybody in the saloon! He roughed up this girl, was about to beat her!”

  To avoid a fight, Jessie added, “Jake attacked me! He was drinking and mean! He tried to kill us! We only defended ourselves! Ask Nettie and the others!”

  “You killed my brother, and you’ll die for it!” came the expected reply.

  “We shouldn’t have stopped so long to talk,” Navarro murmured. “I had you on my mind and dropped my guard. That could have been anybody overtaking us.”

  “I’m sorry if I distracted you,” Jessie replied, “but I had to get your help before you rode off. Now I’ve endangered you again. Look, they’re splitting up.”

  Navarro noted movement in several directions. He had to clear his head of this tempting female. “They’ll try to encircle us. Take the one moving to the left; I’ll take the right. We can’t let them cross the road and flank us.”

  The man in the middle opened rapid gunfire to give his brothers coverage, and Navarro had to respond. Bullets zinged and thudded on rocks and wood too close to ignore. Navarro returned what she concluded must be Josh Adams’s fire. Jessie could imagine how good he was since Nettie had claimed Josh was the best. Was her partner, she worried, as skilled as their attacker?

  The man to their right darted across the road. Jessie aimed her rifle and fired, catching him in the chest. He spun sideways and struck the dirt. Navarro did the same with the racing target to their left, causing each to fire in front of the other. As Jessie attempted to move out of Navarro’s way, she placed herself in Josh’s sights. The gunslinger lifted himself to get a clear shot. Navarro’s instincts warned him and he shoved her to the ground as he jerked his pistol in that direction. It wasn’t fast enough, and Josh fired first.

  Navarro fell backward, his pistol falling aside. Jessie saw the bloody wound on his temple and was reminded immediately of how lethal Big Ed’s had been. She prayed she hadn’t gotten another man killed, especially this one.

  Cursing filled her ears. She whirled back to see Josh heading her way, about to open fire on her again. She hit the ground, rolled several times to a clearing in the scrubs, and fired.

  Josh gaped at the wound to his stomach. Every gunslinger dreaded a gut shot. He placed his hand over it, but blood gushed between his fingers. With hatred hardening his gaze, he headed toward Jessie once more.

  “You’re wounded!” she shouted. “Let it go! I won’t shoot again if you leave!”

  Josh knew the man with her was down, probably dead. Yet he had only one bullet left in his pistol and no time to reload in the open. He assumed she was too scared to fire again. “Hell no, bitch. You’re dead!” He could see Jessie clearly by now, but her beauty and sex meant nothing to him. He had to kill her in revenge before he suffered a painful death.

  Jessie’s breathing was labored. Her eyes were wide. Her heart pounded. Her mouth was dry. The wounded gunslinger was dangerous and deadly. She didn’t know how many bullets she had left, and there was no time to look or to fetch more. She couldn’t risk wounding him again. Enraged, he would keep coming, even on a crawl. This time, she must take aim and—while looking into the man’s face—pull the trigger and slay him. It was harder than returning fire or hitting a target she couldn’t quite see. But if she didn’t, Josh would kill her. The redhead did what she must. She squeezed the trigger and took Josh’s life.

  Jessie returned to Navarro’s side and knelt. He wasn’t slower than Josh Adams, but he couldn’t kill two men at the same time. He had been struck while saving her life. If he hadn’t pushed her aside…She leaned forward with trepidation and listened for a heartbeat. Finding one, she nearly shouted in joy. Hurriedly she yanked her shirt free from her jeans and struggled to remove the binding around her breasts. She had tended enough injured men and animals not to be sickened by blood and wounds. Using a knife, she cut a length to bandage his head. The bullet had creased his temple deeply, but had not lodged there.

  Navarro stirred and moaned, but didn’t fully awaken. He roused just enough to help Jessie get him onto the saddle of the sorrel. To keep him from falling off, Jessie secured his hands and legs with cut strips of rope. She knew they had to get out of this area before someone came along and more trouble started.

  The redhead unsaddled Navarro’s horse and freed him. There was plenty of grass and water nearby, if someone didn’t find him and keep him, but the mount was too old and tired to be of use to them during this emergency. Jessie quickly tied Navarro’s belongings onto the sorrel and dragged his worn saddle into the concealing scrubs. She gathered and replaced their weapons, after reloading them. She swung onto her paint’s back, grasped the sorrel’s reins, and headed off to skirt town. With luck, no one would see them and she could find a safe place to camp on the Middle Concho River before nightfall.

  An hour later, Jessie halted to check on Navarro. He was breathing fine, but still unconscious. There wasn’t much light left, but she decided it was best to keep moving as long as possible, to get farther away from town and their deed.

  Finally she was compelled to stop because, it was too dangerous to push on in the dark. If it weren’t for the short vegetation and seemingly endless horizon, she couldn’t have traveled this far before night. Even if there had been a full moon overhead, she couldn’t journey farther. With the mesquites, rocks, and cactus so abundant, another accident could occur. Too, dangerous creatures roamed at night in their search for food: deadly snakes, spiders, scorpions, and such. She wasn’t afraid of coyotes; they were usually cowardly creatures.

  She worked their way to the riverbank, feeling it was safer than the desert terrain nearby. Jessie knew that her piebald, Ben, was sure-footed, intelligent, and unskittish, but she didn’t want to risk an injury to him or to the sorrel. She dropped the reins to both horses and dismounted. She cut Navarro’s bonds, and the injured man’s weight assisted her with dismounting him. He slid out of the saddle and landed atop her as she intentionally broke his fall with her body.

  Jessie moved from beneath him and straightened his arms and legs. After unsaddling Ben and the sorrel, she let them drink and graze nearby. It wasn’t necessary to hobble them or tie their reins to a bush, as Ben would never leave her side and the sorrel would remain close to the other horse. She placed Navarro’s bedroll near him and worked him onto it, then positioned her own beside it so she could keep a vigil over him during the night. Head injuries were curious wounds that must be watched closely.

  She dared not light a campfire, but longed for a cup of strong coffee. She looked in her supply sack and withdrew two cold biscuits. She searched Navarro’s. Jessie gri
nned as she realized both had been prepared for a quick flight.

  Hot and dusty from her exertions and ordeal, Jessie stripped and bathed quickly, knowing Navarro would probably sleep until morning. Besides being injured, he looked tired. No doubt he had ridden a long way before reaching San Angelo. She donned a clean shirt and jeans that fit better than the loose ones she had used during her disguise, but left off her boots. She knelt again beside Navarro, and carefully she removed the stained bandage, tended his wound, and rebound it.

  Jessica Lane studied him in the dim light. His midnight hair was silky and nape-length, and looked freshly trimmed. It was cut to comb backward on the sides. A right part caused the top to sway to the left across his forehead in almost a playful manner. His thick brows were far apart, and they, she recalled, hooded deep-set hazel eyes. His straight nose flared slightly at the base. His tempting lips were full and wide, his cleftless chin below it strong. His cheek and jawbones were prominent, creating defined hollows between them that her fingers couldn’t resist traveling.

  Jessie’s enchanted gaze slid over him. Navarro was tall and muscular. Her hands felt his arms to find them hard and well defined. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. His skin was smooth and bronzed, and enticed her to caress his cheek where no stubble grew tonight. The white bandage made a striking contrast against that black hair and darkly tanned face. She wondered if he had Indian or Spanish blood, as his features hinted at one or the other. No matter, she didn’t care.

  He was dressed in a blue shirt, tan vest, and black pants. Without disturbing him, she removed his gunbelt. After laying it aside, she unbuttoned the top portion of his shirt. She could not resist slipping her fingers inside the cotton material to feel his flesh. His chest was hairless. It was smooth, yet hard. His skin was cool to her warm fingers. He was a magnificent specimen, like a wild stallion who roamed the wilderness alone, one who couldn’t be captured and tamed unless he was willing. Asleep, his features were relaxed and softened. He was so handsome that her heart pounded and her body flamed with desire. He wanted to be so tough, yet something wouldn’t allow life to harden him completely, and she was glad.