The Promise of Jenny Jones

by Maggie Osborne

  God almighty, but she was a magnificent woman. He enjoyed just watching her sleep. And last night she had been everything he had hoped she would be and more. Passionate, enthusiastic, uninhibited, and eager to give back what she learned. He'd never had a woman with a body as superb as hers, lush, curvacious, taut, well muscled, and built for endurance. And responsive? Remembering her wild abandon made his groin tighten painfully. He had to figure out how they could be together again tonight.

  "Uncle Ty?" Frowning, Graciela tugged at the pocket of his waistcoat. "You aren't listening."

  "You're telling me about your friend, Cordelia."

  "Consuelo!"

  He couldn't hire just anyone to stay with his niece while he trysted with Jenny. The problem was finding someone on short notice,then establishing reliability. That he should be pondering such a dilemma impressed him as frustrating, exasperating, amusing, and there was another feeling he couldn't quite identify. Something warm and protective, something that touched him inside whenever he observed the trust in Graciela's gaze.

  Oddly, he suddenly recalled a saying of his mother's. "A boy becomes a man the day he holds his first child in his arms." It took a child to make a man, he thought, frowning down at Graciela. And a woman, a very special woman.

  Strange new ideas were still prodding his emotions two hours later when all hell broke loose.

  He felt the explosion beneath his feet a second before the blast of dynamite roared through his ears. The train wheels locked, the cars clashed together, and Jenny was flung from her seat to his, coming awake with panic in her eyes. Screams sounded around them. People, animals, boxes, and baskets flew through the inside of the car.

  Trying to hold Jenny and Graciela as the car shuddered and rocked up on one set ofwheels, Ty ground his teeth and swore viciously. Clouds of gray-and-white steam billowed up past the window, but not before he spotted horses and riders. When Jenny's fingers dug into his thighs, he knew she, too, had spotted Luis Barrancas through the glass and steam.

  Up ahead, the engine ran off the ruined track and plunged down the track bed, plowing into sand and cacti before crashing on its side. The following car twisted and toppled, forcing the next car to the opposite side of the track bed. When the hellish din diminished and the cars lurched to a stop, Ty thanked happenstance that they had boarded toward the rear. The car they were in tilted high on one side, but it hadn't fallen.

  Pushing Jenny aside, he found his saddlebags and ripped open the pocket. "Here." He thrust a pistol into her hands and a pouch full of cartridges. She shoved her hat out of her eyes and loaded the gun with steady hands, her mouth grim.

  "We need horses," she snapped.

  He nodded. It didn't surprise him that she tracked his thoughts as if he'd spoken aloud. "Stay here," he said to Graciela, who pushed up her hat brim, then stared around them with frightened eyes and a white face.

  "Wait until we come for you," Jenny finished. She struggled to stand, kicked a terrified chicken out of her way. "Let's go."

  As if they'd discussed it, she turned toward the back door of the car, leaving him to run through the debris-laden aisle toward the front. As he burst onto the crazily canted platform between twisted cars, he heard her first shots and saw a rider go down. Rolling steam made his eyes water, but offered some cover. Unfortunately it obscured the Barrancas cousins as well.

  Jumping to the ground, he ran through hissing white billows, firing at forms looming out of the steam. Three men on this side. He winged one, sent one to hell, and the other wheeled, then spurred toward the back of the train.

  Spinning, Ty climbed back onto the platform, crossed to the other side, and vaulted down. In the midst of spiraling dust and gusts of steam, he spotted Jenny, fighting to hold the reins of a dun and a black horse while firing at a rider bearing down on her. Hot steam scalded his eyes as he ran up beside her, fanning his pistol. The rider veered and dropped, his boot catching in the stirrup. The horse raced toward the desert, dragging the man.

  "We told you to stay inside!"

  By the time he turned, Jenny was tossing Graciela up on the dun, struggling with her skirts to mount behind the child. When she threw the reins of the black to Ty, he caught them, jumped in the saddle, and shouted, "Ride!"

  They were a mile from the wreck before he noticed two significant events. Graciela had disobeyed and left the train, but she had brought his saddlebags; he recognized them hanging across the dun mare.

  And he'd been shot in the side.

  * * *

  The first thing was to create some shade. When she spotted two tall cacti, Jenny shouted his name and pointed before she rode toward them.

  "How badly is he hurt?" Graciela asked for the hundredth time, shifting to lift anxious eyes to her face.

  "I don't fricking know, all right? Please, Graciela, I'm as worried as you are, but I don't know. We'll find out in a few minutes."

  But it was bad, she knew that. The knowledge boiled in her brain, searing and frightening her.

  Though it appeared they weren't yet being pursued, they had ridden hard for the last two hours, heading north across arid ground that hadn't tasted rain in months. Now it was clear they could go no farther.

  Blood caked Ty's right side. Thirty minutes ago, he had slumped in the saddle. Jenny kept watching him, fearing that he would fall off the black at any moment. The sound of the train wheels continued to vibrate in her head, but instead of clickity click, the sound she heard was, Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Please, please, don't let him be dying. Please, no. I'll do anything you want, just let him live. She repeated the litany again and again, unaware that she did so.

  Swinging out of the saddle near the cacti, she lifted Graciela down and tossed her the reins. "Give me a minute,then tether her." Shaking fingers fumbled at the girth strap and buckle,then she had the saddle on the ground and dragged it toward the twin cacti. Once she'd draped the horse blanket over the cacti to create a block of shade, she pulled the saddle beneath the canopy. There was a canteen, thank God, but precious little else on the horse that would be of use to them.

  The black, with Ty sagging on his back, would have walked past her if she hadn't run to grab the bridle and one of the reins that dragged the ground. She shouted at Graciela to tether Ty's horse, too,then caught him as he clumsily tried to dismount, falling heavily against her.

  "This way." Dropping his arm over her shoulder, she led him to the pitiful lean-to she'd constructed. It wasn't until she had him beneath the horse blanket and resting against the saddle that she realized her heart was slamming against her ribs and she could hardly breathe. He was badly wounded. Very badly.

  "What can I do?" Graciela asked in a thin, high voice.

  "See if there's another canteen on the black. Bring everything you can reach."

  Ty opened his eyes, placed a hand against his side. "This one's bad, Jenny."

  "I know, cowboy. Let's have a look at you." Pressing her lips together, she helped him out of his waistcoat, drew a deep breath, then opened his shirt and steeled herself. "It's not a flesh wound," she said after a minute. "Lean forward, let'ssee if the bullet passed through."

  It hadn't. And that was bad. Lowering her head, she swore steadily for a full minute, not stopping until Graciela returned and pressed a second canteen into her shaking fingers.

  "Here." Graciela curved her hand around the neck of a bottle of mescal. Mescal packed a powerful punch and she was glad to have it.

  Jenny pulled the cork with her teeth and handed the bottle to Ty. He nodded gratefully, took a long pull,then wiped the back of his hand across his lips. Graciela knelt on one side of him, Jenny on the other.

  "This one could get me. It won't … but it could."

  "It will," Jenny said flatly, "unless we get some help."

  Graciela stared at him. "I'll sew you up!"

  Jenny's chest rose and fell before she spoke. "Honey, this is different. That bullet has to come out."

  Graciela wrung her hand
s, and tears and snot rolled down her face. "We'll take it out!"

  Jenny gazed into his eyes. He knew what she was going to say. They held each other's gaze. "We'll talk about it, but I don't think so. If I make one tiny mistake, I'll kill him." What she didn't say, what made her wild and frantic inside,was knowing that even if she got the bullet out, he'd already lost too much blood to ride. Ty wasn't going anywhere.

  Graciela clawed at her arm. "You have to try! Jenny, you have to cut out the bullet! I'll help!"

  Ty held Jenny's gaze for another minute,then reached for Graciela's hand. "Honey, you and Jenny can't stay here. Luis was one of the men who blew up the train. We didn't get him. He'll be coming after us."

  "We won't go," Graciela wailed. "We won't leave you!"

  "Graciela, we've got two canteens. Only enough water to last until tomorrow, a couple more days if we ration. And no food. Even if Luis wasn't after you, you'll die if you stay here."

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. The words clicked through her mind, drowning the scream stuck in her throat.

  She made herself speak in a low calm voice. "He'll need nursing, Graciela, constant tending for at least a week. But we don't have food or water to keep us alive for a week. If we stay, it's suicide."

  Graciela made a choking sound. "But if we leave, he'll die!"

  Reaching across Ty's bloody shirt, she caught Graciela's hand and squeezed it gently, swallowing the scream bubbling in her throat. "I'm going to ask you to do something that I know you don't want to do."

  "What?"

  "I want you to go stand by the horses and let me and youruncle Ty speak privately."

  "I don't want to." But she slowly pushed to her feet and dragged her feet toward the horses, where she stood, looking back at them, wringing her hands together.

  Jenny accepted a slug from the mescal bottle, passed it back to him. She took his hand and held it firmly. "Drink up, cowboy. I want you drunk as a skunk before I go poking around your insides. Least I can do isgive that bullet a try. Better I kill you than let the desert or Luisdo it."

  He squeezed her hand. "No sense putting either of us through that." His steady gaze told her that he saw his future. "You need to get her somewhere safe. Leave me a canteen and a loaded pistol."

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. She gazed into his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this, Ty. Just ride away and leave you here," she said in an unsteady voice, blinking hard.

  "Listen to me, darlin'. There's no sense all three of us waiting for the vultures. Now you know I'm right." He clenched his jaw, waited a minute,then continued talking. "How close is the next village, do you figure?"

  "You've been through these parts. There isn't much of anything betweenChihuahuaand El Paso Del Norte. No place where they'd have a surgeon or a doctor. Best we can hope for is a local healer and some luck."

  He nodded. "You'll have to see to it. I can't ride. Couldn't get back on that horse in a month of Sundays."

  She stared at him through a film of tears. "I can't do it, Ty. I can't ride out of here and leave you to die alone in the sun and the desert. I cannot frickingdo that ."

  His grip tightened when she would have snatched her hand away. "Listen to me. If you stay here, Graciela dies right along with you and me."

  "Someone might come along and—"

  "And they might not. Or it might be some more goddamned Barrancas cousins. Luis is still out there unless you killed him, and I missed seeing it."

  She shook her head, cursing Luis Barrancas.

  "Jenny? Look at me. You made a promise. You gave your word to take her to Robert. Now get on that horse and go. Right now. You think I want you and Graciela sitting here watching me die? Get the hell out of here."

  Moaning, she leaned forward and beat her fists on the ground. If she stayed, she might be able to save his life. Maybe. Maybe someone would happen along with food and water.

  "Jenny," he said quietly, "there aren't any promises between you and me. But you made a promise to a woman who died in your place."

  She lifted her head and screamed at him. "Just shut up about that! Don't you think I know it?" Right now, she hated Graciela. If it wasn't for the risk to Graciela, she'd stay here with Ty and take her chances. But she couldn't do that. She had made a promise to a dying woman, and now a dying man was telling her that she had to honor that promise.

  "And I made a promise to my brother. I'm depending on you to keep your promise and mine."

  "I know it, I know it. Oh Ty. Oh God." Hands gripping desert sand, she dropped her head and felt the scald of tears burn her eyes. "Don't die," she whispered. "I'll send someone back for you. Just don't die. Hang on."

  "That's my girl," he said softly, tipping the Mescal bottle to his lips. "Jenny? I have no right to ask this, but … wait at the ranch for a month. Will you do that?" A painful lopsided grin twisted his mouth. "I'm feeling lucky. I'll come for you."

  She lifted her head, tears glittering in her eyes. "You stupid son of a bitch! Why'd you have to go get yourself shot?"Raising on her knees, she leaned forward and kissed him hard on the lips. Then, staring into his eyes, she shouted for Graciela. "Come over here and say goodbye to your uncle. We're leaving."

  Graciela ran forward and dropped to her knees beside him. "No! I won't leave you! We have to stay together!"

  Ty touched her cheek. "You go with Jenny. I'll meet up with you both at the ranch."

  Graciela dashed tears from her eyes. "Please don't die, Uncle Ty. Please don't die! I'll pray real hard for you."

  Jenny stood and looked down at him. "Is there anything you want me to tell Robert or your mother?" The talking was making him weaker. And looking at him was killing her by slow degrees. His pale face, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the blood drying on his shirt. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  "Tell them … ohhell, just tell them to take care of my girls." His eyes urged her to go,then flickered with pain when Graciela threw herself on him, sobbing.

  "Do you have everything you need?" Jenny whispered. She picked Graciela up and slung the kid over her shoulder. She saw the canteen and pistol in his lap, and the bottle of mescal before her vision blurred. She'd also seen the effort he made to appear alert, to remain conscious.

  "Just go," he muttered, his voice starting to slur.

  "Ty?" she whispered, drinking in the last sight of him. "Thank you for … for everything. I love you."

  His head dropped and she didn't know if he'd heard. Every instinct screamed at her to stay with him. He needed her. He needed nursing, needed that bullet out of his body. He was a good man; he deserved better than to die alone on the Mexican desert.

  "I'll find a village. I'll send someone back. I promise!"

  I promise. Never had she detested two words more. Blinded by tears, she threw Graciela up on the black, pulled her skirts to her thighs, and swung up behind her. Because she couldn't bear to look at him again, she cantered away without a backward glance.

  * * *

  Fighting to hold his eyelids open, Ty watched until all he could see of them was a small plume of dust floating against the horizon. By then he had dulled the pain in his side by drinking most of the mescal. Silence settled like a shroud.

  His chances weren't good. He knew that. With a full canteen, and if he didn't move much, he figured he might have four days. As weak as he was, as much blood as he'd lost, he probably had less. But he was a determined bastard, and tough. He wouldn't go easy.

  Shifting his back against the saddle, he opened his eyes and spotted three buzzards circling a spot about two miles in the distance. His hand tightened on the grip of the pistol.

  He had enough bullets to stave off predators, at least for a while. The night chill would be a problem and the heat of the day, but no worse than the lack of food.

  Closing his eyes, he let his head drop toward his chest.

  Damn it. He should have told her that he loved her. He should have told them both.

  Because when he'd watched them ride away, he'd recognized the tru
th. The same thing had happened with his father. The old man had to die before Ty realized that he'd loved him. Now it took his own dying to make him recognize what he'd been fighting for weeks.

  Damn it. He should have told them. He should have said the words.

  The gun slipped from his hand, and he slowly rolled onto his side.

  * * *

  Jenny rode through the sunset and into the night, Graciela limp and sleeping against her chest. Sometimes exhaustion won, and she dozed, waking with a panicked jerk and wondering how long she had slept. Finally, near dawn, she smelled a village and veered east toward the ripe scents of habitation.

  There were only a dozen huts arranged around a weed-clogged plaza and a cracked fountain, which had long ago ceased to function. That was enough. Reining before the first shack she came to, she stumbled toward a rawhide door, reeling with fatigue.

  "I need help, por favor," she whispered to a man who peered through the stitching at the edges of the rawhide. "I have dinero , Señor. I can pay, but please … help me."

  He studied her reddened, exhausted eyes, scanned her rumpled, bloodstained jacket and skirt. Then he glanced toward Graciela slumped on the horse in front of his house.

  He opened the door. " Mi casa es su casa, Señora."

  " Gracias, Señor, gracias. My child," she said, collapsing against the doorjamb, her gaze grateful. The man called to someone behind him, and a woman stepped past Jenny, slidingher a look of curiosity before she rushed to help Graciela off the horse and into the house.

  First, Jenny saw to it that Graciela washed and ate. Before she touched the food Senora Gonzales offered her, she drew Senor Gonzales into the yard and the early glow of sunshine.

  She told him about Ty, her voice urgent and shaking. "He's out about a day and half's ride. He'll need a healing woman and a carrying litter." Senor Gonzales rubbed the money she had pressed into his palm. Then he nodded and turned away from her, heading toward the plaza, which looked more desolate in full daylight than it had in the faint hints of sunrise.