by Connie Mason
"It's Zach's place to tell you," Jess said shortly. He turned away.
"Dammit, Jess, Zach won't tell me anything. But I have to know. If something serious is wrong with him, I want to be able to help him."
"There's nothing you can do," Jess said, his expression softening. "Don't worry, he's not in any immediate danger."
Meg's features hardened. "Tell me, Jess, I can take it."
Jess shook his head. "Have you never heard of patient confidentiality? Zach asked me to keep my diagnosis private. Were you his wife or daughter, it would be a different matter. But as his lover, you have no rights."
Meg's rage and frustration was palpable. Jess felt it tightening around him.
"Is that your last word, Dr. Gentry? You're basing your decision on supposition. That's like playing God. I deserve to know what's wrong with Zach."
Jess knew he should walk away before his temper got the best of him. Unfortunately he waited a moment too long. "Supposition is it? Your lover just asked me to marry you. He says he can not longer take care of you like he should. Now who's playing God?"
Two bright spots flamed on Meg's cheeks. Jess could tell he'd shocked her. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he was still incensed over Zach's outrageous suggestion. When he decided to marry it wouldn't be because a dying man wanted to make sure his mistress was in good hands after his demise. Not only was it embarrassing, but downright insulting to both him and Meg.
"I can't believe Zach would do such a thing," Meg choked out. "He knows better than anyone that I don't want a husband. I'm perfectly happy seeing to Zach's needs."
"Zach shouldn't be...exerting himself. He can't be a real...lover to you anymore," Jess said, choosing his words carefully. "You're a young woman. Can you settle for that?"
Meg's chin rose pugnaciously. "You don't know a damn thing, Jess Gentry. If you don't know by now that Zach and I are... Oh, what's the use. I don't care what you think."
Jess grasped Meg's wrist and pulled her against him. "You're a challenge, Meg Lincoln, and I like challenges. There's an innocence about you that I can't quite figure out. On the other hand, you can be a tempting seductress. I've tasted your mouth, felt it cling to mine, begging for my kisses. Like now. Those pouty lips are irresistible. Did you know your eyes glow when you're angry? You're an enigma, Meg Lincoln. It would take a lifetime to learn all your secrets."
"Let me go."
"Was it your idea to marry me, Meg?"
"You're dreaming."
Maybe you put the idea in Zach's head."
"You're mad. So is Zach for suggesting such an outrageous thing. I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on earth."
"Don't worry, I'd refuse."
"Fine."
Still he held her. She felt so damn good he couldn't let her go. He wanted to kiss her. No, he had to kiss her. Needed to kiss her. He did, full upon the mouth, his lips slanting over hers until her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue slipped inside. He moaned softly into her mouth. She tasted sweeter than he remembered.
He kissed her until her lips softened beneath his, until her body melted against him, until he felt her tremble. His hands roamed down her back, to her curvy hips, pulling them against his hardening loins, making her aware of his arousal. He had no idea why, but he wanted her to feel him, to know how a potent man would react to a desirable young woman. Meg could deny it till doomsday, but she wasn't as opposed to him as she'd like him to believe.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest when he heard her moan his name. Meg said she wouldn't have him if he were the last man on earth. He had just made a liar of her. He was experienced enough to know when a woman wanted a man.
Chapter Five
The kiss took on a life of its own. Jess couldn't seem to stop kissing Meg. She tasted delicious, her lips lush and full beneath his. He slanted his mouth over hers, gathering her completely into his arms, aware of how very fragile she was beneath her veneer of prickly independence. He felt his loins harden and brought her closer against him. Had he dared he would have cleared the table of dishes, pushed her down on the hard surface and thrust himself into her. He wanted to ride her hard, ride her until they were both sated.
Long minutes passed before Jess realized the sound thrumming in his ears wasn't the pounding of his heart. Someone behind him was clearing his throat. With marked reluctance Jess broke off the kiss and backed away.
"Am I interrupting?" Zach asked, pinning Jess with a hard, probing gaze.
"Your timing couldn't have been better," Jess said, grateful for the intrusion. Another minute and he would have taken her on the kitchen table and propriety be damned. Zach's appearance saved him from making a fool of himself.
He glanced at Meg. Speech seemed to have deserted her. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, the fingers of one hand splayed over her lips.
"Have you changed your mind about what we talked about?" Zach asked, glancing from Meg to Jess.
Meg suddenly found her voice. "No, he hasn't. I don't know what possessed you to even suggest such a thing, Zach Purdee. Men," she said, her voice ripe with disgust.
"I could have sworn you were kissing Jess when I walked into the kitchen just now," Zach said.
"Most certainly not! Jess was kissing me. There's a difference."
Suddenly Jess felt as if his world was skittering out of control. And all because of a female bounty hunter who hadn't the sense to stay home and be a woman. He couldn't recall when a woman had set him on his ear like Meg Lincoln. She was unique and special, a woman who followed her own rules. He had to forget her. If he knew what was good for him, he would walk away and never look back.
He was a wanted man. Meg already had a lover. He didn't need a woman in his life right now. She didn't want anyone but Zach. There were countless reasons why he and Meg should steer clear of one another, every one of them valid.
"I'll be leaving within the hour," Jess announced. "I've done all I can here. Meg is nearly back to normal and I've given Zach my professional opinion of his condition and the medication I had on hand to treat it."
"You're leaving?" Zach didn't seem at all pleased and that puzzled Jess.
"I think it's best."
"Where will you go?"
"Somehow I'm going to scrape up enough money to open an office in town."
"I'd like to help, Doc, but me and Meggie are a little short ourselves."
"I'll manage," Jess said. "Take care of yourself. You, too, Meg. I'll stop by in a few days to see how you're doing."
"No need," Meg said. "I'm perfectly fine, and quite capable of taking care of Zach."
"Aw, Meggie, I don't need no one to take care of me. There's a heap of life left in me yet."
"Well, then, I reckon I'll say good-bye," Jess said. "It will only take me a few minutes to gather my things."
Zach stuck out his hand. "I hate to see you go. It's been a real pleasure, Doc. Come back any time. Me and Meggie will be glad to see you, won't we Meggie?"
"The man who saved my life will always be welcome here," Meg said.
"Think over my proposal, Doc. It's still open."
"Zach!" Meg rounded on him. "I know what you did and I'm not pleased. We'll discuss this later, when we're alone."
Jess made a hasty exit while Meg and Zach were bickering. He found the subject revolting. He could understand Zach's need to provide for his lover after his demise, but to offer her to the first likely man to come along was reprehensible. Besides, Zach still had many good years left if he took care of himself.
No one was on hand when Jess rode away. It was better that way, he thought. He couldn't look at Meg without remembering that last kiss and how it had affected him. Damn, he wondered if Rafe and Sam were more knowledgeable about women than he was. Rafe was resourceful, he wouldn't let himself become romantically involved, Jess decided. It was Sam he worried about. Impulsive Sam would probably fall head over heels for a dozen women and discard each one by the time they met in Denver next year.
Jess rode down Ch
eyenne's main street, his body tense as he searched the fences and posts for wanted posters bearing bad drawings of the Gentry brothers. The streets were a seething mass of men and women from all walks of life. Fancy-dressed gamblers, railroad workers, farmers, ranchers, shifty-eyed criminal types, whores looking for a quick two bits, and a few decently dressed women and children.
Jess dismounted in front of the Whistle Stop saloon and tied his horse to the hitching post. It had been far too long since he'd tasted a beer or felt a shot of whisky slide down his throat. The way he felt now, he could drink the saloon dry. Drowning himself in alcohol seemed a pleasant way to forget how damn good Meg felt in his arms, how she had melted against him and opened up to his kiss. God, he wanted her.
Jess walked into the saloon and bellied up to the bar. Several men eyed him curiously but quickly turned away when they saw he presented no threat. Jess reached into his pocket, found a silver dollar, slapped it on the bar, and asked for whisky. From the way he acted, no one would have guessed it was the last dollar he owned. The bartender placed a glass and a bottle in front of him. Jess nodded his thanks, picked up the glass and bottle, and wandered over to a table.
The whisky slid down his throat smooth and warm. Two tables away five men were engaged in a poker game. Jess stretched his long legs in front of him, sipped his whisky and watched the players. Jess had always handled himself well at poker. He couldn't count the times he and his brothers had ridden into Dodge when they needed money and won enough at the tables to satisfy their immediate needs. He didn't like to brag, but he was better at it than Rafe, though not quite as good as Sam, who took to the game like a duck to water.
The stakes grew larger and the men became more reckless with their betting. Jess concentrated on each man's face, watching attentively as they played their hand. After a few hands, he discovered he could correctly read each player's hands by watching their expressions. A plan began to form in his mind. He had nowhere to go, no money, and virtually no hope of practicing medicine without money to set up an office. He was desperate enough to try anything, and that game looked damn inviting.
Jess reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the solid gold pocketwatch that had once belonged to his father. There had been time to do little more than stuff a memento or two in their pockets when he and his brothers had fled from their farm with the posse on their heels. Rafe had taken their mother's wedding ring, Sam had selected their father's gold cufflinks, and he had chosen the watch.
Jess dangled the watch by its gold fob. Could he do it? Should he lose he'd have nothing; no watch, no money. Just his medical bag and the few instruments it contained. Was it worth it? Maybe he should find a job and save against the day he'd have enough to open his practice.
It could take him forever and he didn't have forever.
Jess wasn't even aware he had risen from his chair and approached the poker table until he was standing beside it.
"Can anyone join in?"
Five pairs of eyes regarded him with interest.
"You got money?" a rough man with a day's growth of beard asked.
"I've got this," Jess said, dangling the watch by its gold chain.
A man nattily dressed in fancy duds held out his hand. "Let's see it."
Jess handed over the watch to the man who had all the markings of a professional gambler.
"Aw, let the man sit in, Fisk," a distinguished looking man wearing a dark suit said. "We need some new blood."
Fisk inspected the watch carefully. "Belong to your pa, did it?" he asked Jess.
Jess nodded. "It's solid gold."
"You must be desperate for a game if you'd risk an heirloom," Fisk said, turning the watch over in his hands. "It's gold, all right. What do you say, boys, shall we deal the tenderfoot in?"
When no one objected, Jess pulled up a chair.
"Five card stud," Fisk said, dealing out the cards.
Jess fanned his cards close to his chest. He kept his expression purposely blank despite wanting to jump for joy. Luck was with him. He held a pair of kings. The betting became heated. Jess watched the gambler closely for cheating. His intense scrutiny was rewarded when he caught Fisk dealing himself a card from the bottom. Jess slapped his hand down on the deck.
"From the top, please," he growled.
The bearded man leaped to his feet. "You been cheatin', Fisk?"
"Sit down, Brewster, the tenderfoot don't know what he's talking about."
"Calm down, gentlemen," the well-dressed man said. "Let's give Fisk the benefit of the doubt this time. But we'll all be watching you, Fisk, so if you've a mind to cheat, don't. We should thank...what did you say your name was, mister?"
"Jess. Jess Gentry."
"I'm Earl Wyland. I for one am grateful for the warning."
"It's Dr. Gentry."
"A medical doctor?" a young cowhand asked. "I'm Pace Lynch."
"I'm Chet Conner," a sad eyed man in a wrinkled suit said.
"And I'm Burl Brewster." This from the bearded man.
"Howdy," Jess said. "Yes, I'm a medical doctor. I'm thinking of opening a practice in town. Remember me when you need a doctor."
Fisk sent Jess a murderous glare. "Are we gonna play poker or sit here and chit chat?"
"Get on with the game," Jess said. "Deal from the top this time."
The game continued. Jess discarded three cards and was dealt an ace, a deuce, and another king to go along with his pair of kings. The bidding continued. At the final lay down, Jess held the winning hand. He scooped up his winnings and placed his watch back in his pocket. His luck held out. He won the next two hands out of four. He owed his luck to reading expressions and knowing when to hold and when to fold.
Sad-eyed Chet Conner said little during the play. He bet with a reckless abandon that bothered Jess. The man appeared to be sober but Jess could tell his heart wasn't in gambling. He lost consistently and appeared not to care.
The game progressed. Gold coins and paper bills piled up in front of Jess. A few hours later Jess became aware of the passage of time and of his incredible good fortune, and he didn't want to push fate. The nighttime crowd began drifting into the saloon, some gravitating toward the poker table to watch the play. Saloon girls sashayed through the crowd, urging men to buy them drinks and making assignations for later.
When the deal came around to Jess again, he placed the cards face down on the table and announced his decision to call it a night.
"You can't quit now, Gentry," Fisk charged as Jess rose and stretched. "Give us a chance to win our money back."
"Another time," Jess declared. "It's getting late. I still have to find a place to stay for the night."
"I'm through, too," Conner said. "Cleaned out."
Fisk rose as if to challenge Jess.
"Accept your losses and let it go at that, Fisk," Wyland advised. "We all lost tonight. And we're all aware of your cheating now, thanks to the doc, here. I suggest you keep your nose clean from now on."
Fisk slanted Jess another lethal look and stalked away.
"Nice meeting you all," Jess said, eager now to clear out with his winnings. They would be put to good use."
"Are you really going to hang up your shingle in town?" Conner asked.
"Just as soon as I find a place to rent within my means," Jess said. "Until I won tonight, I didn't have a nickel to call my own." He tipped his hand. "I owe you all my thanks, gentlemen."
"Mr. Gentry, might I have a word with you?" Conner asked.
Jess was surprised to find the meek Mr. Conner following behind him. "Of course. How may I help you? Are you ill?" Jess took a closer look at the man, thinking he might be consumptive.
"No, not sick. At least not in the way you mean. My wife of thirty years just passed away and I'm taking her back to Philadelphia for burial. It was her wish to be buried beside our only child, who died before we left Philadelphia."
Jess led Conner to a table and invited him to sit down. Conner took a seat and stared at his h
ands. Jess waited for Conner to state his business.
"You need to rent a place to practice medicine."
"That's right," Jess said, wondering where this was going.
"I own a house located on the main street that might suit your purposes. Would you care to look at it? I'm leaving taking my wife's body back East on the train tomorrow. I intended to leave the house empty until I return, but that doesn't make sense. Renting it will help both of us. Frankly, I could use the money, Dr. Gentry."
Jess tried to contain his excitement but it was difficult. Practicing medicine again was his fondest wish. "You were gambling rather recklessly tonight, Mr. Conner."
"I know. Since Elsie died I haven't been myself. I came out here with a nice little nest egg. I built the house and opened a dry goods store. I guess I'm not much of a businessman for my store failed quickly.
"I took a job in a bank. Bank clerks don't make much money and I rarely gambled until today, but something snapped inside me when I lost my wife. All my dreams were gone, just like Elsie. I didn't regain my wits until you accused Fisk of cheating. Suddenly I realized how foolish I had been. I need money to see me to Philadelphia and pay for Elsie's funeral."
"How long to you intend to be gone, Mr. Conner?"
Conner shook his head, his grief palpable. "I don't know. Perhaps I won't return at all. I have a brother in Philadelphia. He offered me a job in his hardware store. I just might take it."
Jess's eyes lit up. "Would you be willing to give me, say, a six month lease?"
Conner blinked. "I'm sure something can be worked out that will please both of us."
"When can I see the house? If it suit my needs, I would be interested in renting."
Jess followed Conner out the door. "It's not far," Conner said. "We can walk, but bring your horse, if you'd like.
Jess decided to take his horse and led him down the street behind him. They passed the bank, the mercantile, the sheriff's office, two saloons, barbershop, grocery store, blacksmith, bathhouse, and not one, but two daily newspapers.
"All this building happened since the first tents went up in eighteen sixty-seven, just over a year ago," Conner explained. "I arrived with the early settlers. Elsie and I lived in a tent until our house and store were built. Almost overnight four thousand residents swelled the town, and an army supply depot was built nearby to protect the railroad workers. Despite the army presence, a sheriff and town government, Cheyenne is still a lawless town. Most people refer to it as 'hell on wheels.'"