Val’s smile faded as her words sank in. “You’re riding him in the races?”
“Of course. Not only vill Achilles refuse to be seated by any other rider zan me…”
“And me,” Val added, which earned him a scowl from the seamstress before she carried on.
“But I voodn’t miss zees opportunity for za world.”
“The opportunity to win?” He swallowed uneasily.
“Za opportunity to send you rolling across za desert. I could care less about za trophy.” Her smiled widened vindictively. “I hope you are prepared for za ride of your life.”
He couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted and he narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Just say when.”
An hour later, he and Morgan made their way to the starting line behind the chutes while Val filled his brother in on his conversation with Stacy.
“I told you, Val,” Morgan said. “I told you things were heating up in Virginia City. Now you’ve gone and earned the wrath of Leonard Stacy. Why are you provoking him?”
Val frowned at the lecturing tone in Morgan’s voice. He should have expected this reaction, but he had hoped for a more supportive speech. “Hey now. How did I provoke him? By turning him down? Am I obliged to accept his offer just because he extended it?”
“No, you’re not, but that’s not how you’re provoking him. The man has made you two lucrative offers. You’ve turned him down to enjoy the satisfaction of spitting in his face. Admit it.”
“That’s not true, Morgan. I don’t want to go into the railroad business.”
“Why not, Val?” He stopped and fixed Val with a hard stare. “Let’s get to the root of it right now. You don’t have your heart and soul set on mining. You’d sell off and walk away right now if something more tempting came along. You’ve had no problem taking on or walking away from any number of jobs over the past years. You’ve mined, milled, shoveled shit, driven cattle, farmed, worked in cartography, geology and hydrology without a care. Why stare down your nose at working rail? It’s not the work. It’s the fact that Leonard Stacy wants you to, and you’re determined to be your own master.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except for now you’ve entangled Collette, and quite possibly endangered her and her sister, all for the sake of thumping your chest to announce nobody will dictate to Valentine Kelly.”
“You are such a hypocrite, Morgan. I don’t recall you throwing your hands up and walking away from your ranch at the first sign of trouble last summer. What did you do? You stood your ground and fought.”
Morgan shook his head, disappointed. “There’s a difference. David and his group were intent on killing me, not stealing my land. They were a small band of thieves, not a rich baron who owns most of the county and most likely the law and politicians as well.”
Val crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you saying if Leonard Stacy walked onto your ranch this instant and offered you money for it or else, you would sell to him?”
“I’m settled now, Val. It would be a different fight. That ranch is the livelihood of me and my wife and my child. That is worth fighting for. What are you fighting for? You’re fighting today for something you’d just as easily throw away tomorrow.”
Val chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought over Morgan’s words.
“Sell off, Val,” Morgan urged. “Back out of it now, before it becomes personal.”
They arrived at the starting line of the hide races and Val dropped the subject. Ten horses stood, saddled and ready, each with a rope strung from the saddle horn to the thick carpet of dried cowhide on the desert floor. Val studied the hide.
“How are we supposed to hold on?” he asked Morgan. “Surely not by the rope. That would chafe our hands raw.”
“If you are worried about your hands,” Jess said as she strode to the brothers, “then you should have stayed in the stands with the women.”
Morgan smirked before leaving them for his horse and hide. Val’s patience was thin after his exchange with his brother, and it showed in the tone of his voice. “Why don’t you worry about keeping your silly hat on during the race and leave me alone.”
Her forehead wrinkled as she studied his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he barked. “I’ve no stomach for your barbs right now.”
“I can see that,” she said. “That’s not like you. What’s happened?”
His teeth sank into the inside of his cheek as he took a deep, calming breath through his nose. “Nothing. Just a disagreement with Morgan.”
“Is your head clear now? Because you need to concentrate to stay on this thing.”
He stared down at the hide and then chuckled as he looked back up at her. “You really take this seriously, don’t you?”
“Val, trust me when I say you have never done anything like this before. It’s far more difficult than any of you realize.” They looked around at the riders taking up positions on their hides. Most sat cross-legged, while others tried different positions. She shook her head and laughed as she turned back to Val. “The best way to ride a hide is on your stomach. Lay flat and fold up the edge like a carpet. Then, hold on for dear life.”
“Giving me pointers?” he laughed as he peered sideways at her. “I don’t know whether to trust you or not. You seemed pretty determined to thrash me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to see you killed, just knocked around a little. And you will be, trust me.”
He laughed as she went to Achilles and tightened the cinch. She swung into the saddle as he took his position on the hide, just as she instructed. The rodeo crowd had left the stands and positioned themselves along the roped off edges of the race track. The route was a wobbly oval that went up and down hills, over a trickling spring and through a sagebrush garden. The first person to ride their hide in three successful revolutions would be crowned the champion.
Val studied the ground through Achilles’ legs and mumbled a quick prayer. His gut was already churning at the dangers he saw before him. Aside from the obvious desert obstacles, there were other horses and hides to consider. He hoped his three weeks of work had steeled his muscles enough for this event.
“Riders at the ready!” the rodeo announcer called, and Val exchanged a nervous glance with Morgan.
“On your mark!”
He swallowed a dry lump.
“Get set!”
He wet his lips and curled his fingers as tight as he could.
“Go!”
Achilles tore through the dirt, pelting Val in the face with it. He lowered his head to avoid the dust and felt his entire body tighten and flex as he began to jostle and bounce over the road. The hide skidded across the ground swinging left and right, only to throw him in the opposite direction when it pounded over a bump. He was airborne several times before they came to the first turn in the track.
Jess stayed toward the inside of the track, but the hide slid out wide and Val knocked elbows with another hide rider before the track flung him back toward the inside. His face was coated with dirt. He couldn’t breathe but to swallow a mouthful of it. They slammed through the spring and Val felt every rock and stone punch him along his belly and thighs.
The second turn came and Jess was pushed out of the inside. Val watched as the rider beside him hit a bump and flew high in the air. His body landed in a series of somersaults that took him right into a cactus. The loud and sympathetic groans from the crowd were barely audible as Achilles barreled into the sagebrush garden.
Val’s skin was on fire as he felt the long, stiff spikes of the bare branches, deadened by winter, reach out and score his arms and sides. He kept his face planted into the hide and willed his fingers to remain closed, even while they were being sliced. Cries of pain from the other men reached his ears but he would not look up until they rounded the third curve.
His hide slid out wide again, this time almost beneath the hooves of the neighboring horse. Val rolle
d onto his side.
“Whoa! Whoa! Jess!”
She looked back and steered Achilles away just as they crossed the start line. Val’s fingers were slick but he didn’t dare release the hide to wipe them. As they headed down the straight away he surveyed those left in the race. They were down to five racers. He couldn’t see if Morgan was one of them for the amount of dust and rocks assaulting his vision. They crossed the spring again, this time with Val feeling a blow to his gut that nearly took his breath away.
He felt like a rag doll bouncing to and fro, in and out of the air while his fingers clutched the hide for dear life. Another round of scrapes through the sagebrush and he prayed for strength to make it through the final lap, no longer caring how many others were still in it with him.
He slid left and right. His fingertips were on fire with the effort of holding on. When they crossed the stream for the third time, they ran parallel to another set of racers. Val winced as that rider’s hide hit a rock and sent the man flying right toward him. Their bodies collided and Val rolled off of the hide, losing the grip on his right hand. The serrated desert floor sped beneath him, burning and chafing until he gritted his teeth, tightened his core, and threw himself back onto the hide just as they went into the third turn.
When he felt the sagebrush rake along his sides again, he welcomed it as a sign the race was near the end. His face pressed into the hide until he could taste it. The crowd roared and Achilles came to a stop, so he uncurled his fingers and felt his body tumble in log roll after log roll until he stopped near the crowd.
Hands patted him on the shoulder. People pulled him up. Voices, cheers, laughter all assailed him at once as he stood on wobbly legs. His fingers burned and refused to straighten, feeling tight and stiff as metal. His eyes stung and everything through them was blurred. He spat on the ground, tasting dirt and blood as he felt cleansing tears began to trickle down his cheeks.
Jess threw herself into his arms. “You won!”
He hugged her back, wincing at the amount of pain the action caused him. He heard Morgan’s voice congratulating him and the rodeo announcer calling his name. Next, he felt the tiny trophy pushed into his hands and lifted aloft as the crowd cheered. Jess hugged him again and pulled away to wipe the dusty tears from his face.
“Damn, Val,” she teased. “I didn’t expect you to get so emotional.”
“Next time,” he choked. “You’re on the hide.”
Chapter 24
Jess grabbed a canteen from Sandy and poured it over Val’s head. The dirt slid off of him in muddy reams as she asked Ellie to refill it. Val still swayed on his feet and she began to wonder if he was all right. When she rinsed his head and face again, his eyes fluttered and focused.
“Feeling any better?” she asked.
“I can finally see. I was beginning to worry I’d lost my eyes for good.”
“How about apart from that? How are your back and shoulder?”
His forehead scrunched as he stretched his shoulder blades. “To tell you the truth, woman, everything hurts.”
She laughed in sympathy. “I told you it was rough.”
“Rough!” he laughed and then choked on the dust in his lungs. “You grew up doing this?”
“Yes, but you recover easier when you’re a youngster.”
Morgan clapped Val on his shoulder. “That was something else, wasn’t it? I flew off on the third turn of the first lap. There’s no way you can prepare for that.”
Lila stepped forward to wipe Val’s face with her handkerchief. “I’ve never seen such a foolhardy, dangerous stunt in all of my life. Our men could have been killed. I’d like to know whose idea it was to bring a foul prank like this to the rodeo.”
“Mine,” Jess said, and grinned proudly. Everyone looked up in shock. “I pitched the idea to the committee two months ago, and I’ll wager they make it a recurring event. What do you fellas think? Would you do it again?”
“Hell, yes,” Morgan trumpeted, much to the dismay of his wife. “I’ve never felt a rush like that.”
“What about you, Val?” she asked with a smirk.
“I’ll let you know in the morning.”
“Collette?” Lila asked with a curious look on her face. “What happened to your accent?”
“Oh…” Jess’s eyes roved the faces in the small group. “It’s a long story. Can I share it with you later? I don’t really want to discuss it out here.”
“FIRE!” they heard the call and every head turned toward the city.
Jess scanned the building tops until she saw a dark black plume of smoke rising from the town. She recognized the spires of St. Mary’s and the red walls of Juliet’s. The smoke curled from the buildings in between, and she gasped as the canteen fell from her hands.
“Oh my God. My shop!”
She took off at a run and jumped onto Achilles’ back, digging her heels into his flanks toward the city even while the empty hide drug behind her. Everyone headed toward the fire on foot or hoof, knowing that a single blaze could wipe out the entire city if not contained. Thousands of livelihoods were at stake, but none more than hers, for she knew it was her shop. She kicked Achilles faster through the vacant streets, hearing other riders quick on her trail.
Her feet hit the ground and she ran straight for the well, pumping into the lone pail nearby. She threw the water at the wall and heard the sizzling drops evaporate in mid-air. More men arrived and gathered buckets to fill. They took water from every well and pump, out of every horse trough and formed assembly lines to pass it down onto the fire. It was beginning to work, but not fast enough.
She watched the black smoke fade to gray, but still the bright orange flames pulsed inside the windows. Jess knew her shop was lost, and so did everyone else. They began shifting their efforts toward the surrounding stores, wetting their walls and roofs as she continued to splash water into the back of her store.
The wood groaned beneath the ravaging power of the flames and she heard popping noises and whistles from within. She sank to her knees in the middle of Main Street and watched everything she owned burn to the ground. But it wasn’t her material things that made her suddenly feel hollow inside. It was knowing that hidden beneath a loose floorboard near the foot of the bed was the last two remnants of her parents and more than five thousand dollars in cash she had been saving for three years. It was all the money she had.
She didn’t know whether it was desperation or a momentary plague of senselessness, but she dropped the pail and ran straight for the burning building, blasting through the door. Once the outside air rushed in through the doorway, the fire swelled and lashed out at her with bluish-orange tendrils of flames. She went to her knees and crawled toward the back rooms, but she could not see; could not breathe.
Her lungs were on fire and full of smoke. She coughed and gasped, unable to breathe in anything but hot ash and smoke. Knowing it was useless, she turned toward the door, but the entire room was engulfed in a thick black fog and she could not tell up or down, let alone which way she’d come. Spasms shook the inside of her chest and water stung her eyes.
A strong grip clasped around her arms and yanked her toward the light, spilling her out onto the street only moments before the roof caved in and the fire devoured her store. Once the structure collapsed, men worked vigorously to douse the flames, and she could hear the protesting hiss of the fire even as she felt it’s warmth on her face. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“It’s gone, Jess,” she heard Val say, and only then realized she sat in his arms in the middle of the road.
She watched long sections of her blond hair float on the waves made by the heat and realized her hat and pins were gone. There were no more lacy headpieces to hide her secret. They had been consumed. Her chest rose and fell with great effort and she finally turned her face from the sight and buried it in Val’s chest. His arms tightened around her as he rubbed a hand up and down her back.
There were no tears, the shock had kept them
at bay, but she needed his embrace to ward off the chill of her future. Now, they had nothing but the clothes on their backs. Where would they go? What would they do? Her eyes fluttered open to find the form of Leonard Stacy, sitting nearby in his open buggy, watching the desecration of her store.
Her jaw clenched and she felt her fingers curl around Val’s arms like talons. He stiffened and looked down at her, but she would not tear her gaze from the source of her suffering. Her eyes narrowed so tightly the muscles behind them quivered. She reached into her pocket for her six shooter, determined to rid the world of his evil.
Val’s hand went over hers and stopped its path. “Don’t,” he whispered. “You will be hanged by morning if you do that here and now.”
“As long as he dies I don’t care,” she growled.
“What about Marlena? Who will look out for her with you dead?”
Jess felt her body relax and she turned her gaze from the smug millionaire in search of her sister and found her at the edge of the crowd in the arms of Dalton. Seeing her tiny face alight with fear pulled Jess back to her senses. She looked to Val.
“Get me out of here,” she pleaded lowly, and he helped her to her feet.
They went to Marlena, Jess ignoring the whispers and gasps of the people she passed. No doubt, they had seen her throat and she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a response. She put her arms around Marlena and followed Val down the road toward Gold Hill, feeling the eyes of the townspeople on her back. Val reached down and grasped her hand.
She didn’t let go.
When they reached the boarding house, Morgan, Lila and Argyle were already waiting out front in the buckboard, chatting grimly with Sandy and Ellie. The silence that fell when she approached was as thick as the smoke that had choked her. She looked them each in the eye, but no one said a word. What was there to say? It was Lila who finally broke the silence.
“I’m so sorry, Collette.” Her voice was soft and pained.
Jess looked up. “My name is Jessica Beauregard, and my sister is Marlena. You may as well know it since our names are all we have now.”
Desert Sunrise (Love in the Sierras Book 2) Page 16