Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “Where’d…you learn to…swear like that?”

  “Oh, Pace!” Fresh tears nearly choked her. “You’re awake! Mama, Rena, he’s awake!”

  “Hey! Hey.” Pace squirmed and tried to dodge the tears and sloppy kisses landing all over his face. “What the…” Then he remembered. Chains. Fists and boots pummeling him. A tree. Jessie. A gun in her hand. Lightning!

  Was he dead?

  No. Jessie—it was Jessie, wasn’t it? Her tears were too wet, the sounds of her sobs too real against the background of hooves on hard ground and the creaks and groans of a wagon. He must be alive. “Where are we?”

  But his baby sister didn’t seem to hear him. Not surprising, the way she kept bawling like a calf stuck in the mud. He didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound. He ached all over, but as he wrapped his arms around her dainty shoulders, he didn’t care about the pain. It was real, as real as the girl sobbing against his chest. He was alive and his arms felt lighter than air because, he suddenly realized, his chains were gone. For now, that was enough.

  Feeling more like an outsider than ever, Blake watched through the darkness as Serena halted the wagon. She and her mother scrambled over the back of the seat and into the bed and were all over Pace like freckles on a nose. Blake couldn’t help but feel relieved. It looked like Colton was going to be all right.

  That didn’t make Blake feel any less envious, but he fought the feeling down. This was Pace Colton’s family, not Blake’s.

  Besides, Blake might be envious of Pace’s mother and sisters, but he damn sure didn’t want Jessie for a sister. Jessie was his woman. Or she had been, for one glorious, breathtaking night.

  And she will be again, by God. She’s mine.

  Pace was still weak, but getting stronger every day as they angled across the badlands of Texas toward New Mexico. He still spent half of each day stretched out in the back of the wagon. Sometimes, like now, he took the reins and drove. But he spent the rest of the time in the saddle. Blake was grateful for the extra pair of eyes on the trail. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being followed.

  Stanley? If so, why hadn’t they seen dust on their back trail? They were traveling in daylight now, since leaving the hill country. If General Stanley was after them, he’d have sent a patrol. A patrol couldn’t move out here without stirring dust. Hell, as mad as Stanley had been, he might have sent half the damn garrison. But there would have been dust.

  Of course, Stanley really had no need to follow them. He knew exactly where they were headed. The Colton ranch outside Tucson. All he had to do was send word to Miles, who would be waiting for them. Blake was still worrying over how to get around that little problem.

  Another benefit to Pace’s recovery was Jessie. She didn’t seem to hate Blake quite as much these days. Was even civil to him on occasion, though she tried not to be. But she was softening. He hoped.

  She was a sight these days, his Jessie was. He’d met the prim and proper young miss dressed for town. He’d seen her after she’d been kidnapped in nothing more than her ruined night shift. On the trip back she’d a worn plain skirt and blouse, with her feet bare. He’d seen her dressed like a man, in a stolen uniform. And he’d seen her wearing nothing more than a heart-stopping smile.

  Now she was back in the skirt and blouse, and they—and she—were covered in trail dust. Where she’d come up with the floppy farmer’s hat to shade her face from the relentless sun, he didn’t know. It made her look like a lost waif, if a man didn’t happen to notice the entirely too womanly curves below. Or the six gun strapped to her hip. Blake noticed.

  He took a last lingering look, hoping to catch her eye. Hell. She knew he was looking. He wondered if she took in those deep breaths on purpose, because she knew the way it made her shirt pull tight across her breasts. With a prayer for patience, Blake kneed his gelding and cantered ahead to scout for a place to camp for the night.

  Jessie watched him go and breathed a sigh of relief. With him gone, maybe she’d ask Serena, riding beside the wagon on the extra horse, to trade places with her. The wagon seat seemed to grow harder by the mile. A saddle sounded soft in comparison.

  Beside her on the seat, Pace urged the team on. “Why do you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Act like you’re glad every time he rides out.”

  Her cheeks heated. Jessie bristled. “Because I am, that’s why.”

  “Bull—”

  “If I can’t swear, neither can you.”

  “You never used to do that, you know. Swear. You never used to lose your temper, either. Not ’til you met him. Riles you up some, doesn’t he?”

  Jessie faced the road and stuck her nose in the air. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Pace snorted. “You always were a lousy liar.”

  Her cheeks burned hotter.

  His voice softened so that it didn’t carry to Serena, or to their mother napping in the back of the wagon. “You want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Not even that you’re in love with him?”

  Aghast, she shot Pace a glare. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Like I said, you always were a lousy liar. I see the way you look at him when you think no one notices. Had a pup once that looked at me like that. Like he might die right there on the spot if I didn’t touch him.”

  “You’re wrong,” Jessie said fiercely. “Dead wrong. How could you possibly think I cared for a man who tried to keep you in prison?”

  “He tried to get me out, Jessie. He—and you—did get me out.”

  “He used me, he used you, he used all of us, just to get close enough to kill Geronimo.”

  “He didn’t kill him, though, did he? That ought to count for something.”

  “Why are you defending him?” she cried.

  Pace shrugged, his gaze scanning the trail ahead. “I like him. He’s a good man, Jessie, and you know it.” Then he chuckled. “Hell, I’d have to like any man who can shake you up enough to make you swear and lose your temper. And you, Miss Priss, would have to care a hell of a lot for a man to let him get to you like this.”

  “I think that lightning did more than turn you hair white. It rattled your brains,” she muttered.

  Pace laughed outright. “I think I like this new you, Jessie Ann. You’re more fun. Not near as stuffy as you used to be.”

  He couldn’t know how much those words hurt. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, Jessie knew. But…stuffy? Was that how he saw her?

  Blake chose a sight to camp, near water. Every night he found water. Not much this time, just a trickle that ran between two low, grassy rises, but in West Texas, Jessie knew it was better than finding gold. How did he do that? How did he always find water when they needed it most?

  There was no moon that night, only a billion stars that made the darkness seem somehow friendly when Jessie took the first watch. With Blake’s rifle and her own revolver, she settled down near the top of the far rise. From there, had it been light, she could have seen for miles.

  Blake watched her go. He wanted to follow, to talk to her, to make her talk to him. But he waited. When he thought everyone was asleep, he rolled from his blanket and tugged on his boots. At the edge of camp, Pace’s voice stopped him.

  “Renard?”

  “Yeah?” Blake answered quietly.

  “I owe you for all your help.”

  If people had told Blake a month ago that he would come to truly like a half-breed Apache, he would have called them a liar. Pace Colton was a hard man to know, and a harder man to like. But Blake found himself liking him just the same. “Don’t worry about it,” he answered.

  “I’m not. I always pay my debts. All of them. You might keep that in mind if you’re planning on hurting my baby sister.”

  Hell. How honest was a man supposed to be with a woman’s brother? Blake shook his head. “Hurting Jessie i
s the last thing I want to do. I think you know that. But something you might keep in mind, Colton. Your sister’s not a baby anymore.”

  Jessie was intent on watching the stars. It took no thought, yet kept her mind occupied. She didn’t hear anyone approaching until the last minute. She whirled and leveled the rifle.

  “It’s me,” Blake said quickly.

  Jessie sagged. It would take an hour for her heart to slow. “I ought to shoot you anyway, sneaking up on me like that.” But she lowered the rifle anyway. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Shocked, Jessie backed away, as much from the sudden wanting that seized her as from the man. She didn’t want him. She couldn’t. “Go away.”

  He didn’t. Instead, he came closer. “Aren’t you tired of hating me yet?”

  His voice had an edge to it that had her taking another step back. “Why shouldn’t I hate you, after what you did?”

  His face was barely visible in the starlight, more shadow than substance. “What did I do?”

  “You used me.”

  He took another step forward. “How? How did I use you?”

  Jessie took a step back. “You used me to get to Pace.”

  “I didn’t need you to get to Pace. I had orders, remember?”

  She stiffened. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget. Ever.”

  “I didn’t give the damn orders, Jessie.”

  “But you followed them.”

  “If I’d followed the verbal ones that went with them, Pace would be in prison right this minute.” Another step forward. “How did I use you?”

  Another step back. “You used me to get to Geronimo.”

  “I didn’t need you for that either. How did I use you?”

  There was pure steel in his voice now, hard and unbending. Jessie braced herself against it, against the temptation to yield. Yield herself, her heart, whatever he wanted.

  Pace might like the new Jessie, but she didn’t. She hated this constant seesawing of her emotions, hated never feeling calm anymore. Calm, and in control of herself. She despised this constant urge to yield to Blake anything and everything he asked. Stuffy or not, she wanted her old self back.

  “You used me to find out what my mother was planning.” Her voice sounded reedy, even to her. “The only reason you spent the night with me was to keep me from trying to get Pace out of prison.”

  “What?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed.

  “To hell with keeping my voice down. I don’t give a rat’s ass who hears me. You’re really grasping at straws, aren’t you? What are you afraid of, Jessie? That you might have to admit I’m not quite the villain you claim? I spent the night with you for one reason, and one reason only. Because I goddamn couldn’t help it! I didn’t want to help it. I wanted you like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. And I knew that no matter what happened with Pace, with Geronimo, that you were going to turn your back on me. I knew you weren’t woman enough to take a man the way he is, faults and all. But I didn’t care, do you hear me? I damn well didn’t care. I wanted you too much.”

  Stunned by such a passionate outburst, Jessie didn’t even think to protest when he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest.

  “I told you I was in love you with, but you weren’t listening. So hear this, Jessie girl.” And he kissed her.

  She expected hard and forceful. She was prepared for that, ready to fight him. She was not prepared for the fierce gentleness, the way his lips lingered, softened, tenderly devoured. She was not prepared for the need she tasted, the hunger in his hands, the way his heart pounded against her chest. The way hers pounded in answer.

  Dear God, how could she fight such need, when it was hers?

  The arms she’d thought never to feel again held her tightly. The warmth she thought never to know again thawed the edges of her pain. All her arguments against him were futile, petty. She knew that. But she’d been fighting for her life, because this kind of need and hunger was foreign to her. Made her feel as though she would lose herself entirely.

  “Ah, Jess,” he whispered against her lips. “I do love you, you have to know that. Marry me, and let me prove it to you the rest of my life.”

  It was a toss-up as to who was more startled by his words—Jessie, or Blake. But he wouldn’t take them back. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Because suddenly he knew this was what he wanted. This woman, in his arms every day, every night. He wanted her love. He wanted to build a life with her, raise a family. He wanted it all.

  “No!” She pushed him away. “You don’t mean that. You can’t!”

  “I can, and I do.”

  Jessie shook her head vigorously, backing away from him, panic following her inch for inch. “You want to marry a woman who doesn’t want you?”

  “No. I want to marry you.”

  Panic rose to her throat. That was perhaps the only thing that kept the fierce yes inside her from bursting out between her lips. Had her own lecture to herself a few minutes ago been for nothing? Was she really willing to turn her heart inside out and hand it to a man who had made sweet love to her, then told her he was leaving town, when in fact he’d had no intention of leaving? A man who had planned to murder Geronimo and keep Pace in prison? How was she to ever trust such a man? How was she to ever trust herself where he was concerned?

  “Well I don’t want to marry you.”

  It shouldn’t have hurt so much. Blake should have expected it. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

  “Why? Why?” Because no matter how she yearned for a home and family of her own, no matter how many times he made her blood sing, Blake Renard terrified her. She wanted a man she could trust, and she wanted to be able to trust herself. Wanted her emotions to stop boiling over. She wasn’t used to losing control. She was used to being in control. With Blake, that was impossible. She would drown in him, disappear, until there was nothing left of her but whatever he wanted her to be.

  “Why? Because I don’t want you, I don’t love you! If you won’t admit you used me, then hear this. I used you. I asked you to spend the night with me so you wouldn’t know that my mother was out making arrangements to break Pace out of prison. That’s the only reason. Do you hear me? I—”

  “I hear you,” he shot back. “But I don’t believe you, not for a minute. What are you so afraid of, Jessie?”

  She stuck out her chin and wrapped her arms around herself, surprised to find the rifle still clutched in her hand. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  Starlight gleamed along the bunched muscle of his jaw. “You still don’t lie worth a damn. But I guess I ought to be grateful you turned me down. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a little girl who’s afraid to grow up and face her own emotions. I think I’ll wait until a real woman comes along.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A real woman. How dare Blake! She had half a mind to show him once and for all that she was more woman than any he’d ever met. But half a mind would be accurate, for she would be playing directly into his hands. She would ignore him, that’s what.

  Yet ignoring him might make him believe he had hurt her. That was the last thing she wanted.

  It seemed either way would only be to his advantage. Jessie was so damn frustrated and angry, she wanted to spit. Every time she had to look at him the feelings escalated until she thought she might scream.

  Blake watched her anger rise closer to the surface each day. He hoped she choked on it. He’d spilled his guts to her and she’d scorned him. He should celebrate that she’d turned him down, by God.

  If Blake or Jessie had hoped no one would notice the animosity that flared between them when they were forced together, they were only fooling themselves. Looks passed sharply from Daniella to Serena to Pace and back. That something explosive had happened was evident to all three. The sparks of anger were hard to miss.

  When it was Jessie’s turn to cook, Blake seemed to take particular delight in eyeing the food
with suspicion, deliberately waiting until someone else tasted the food before taking a bite. The third time Pace noticed the odd behavior, he asked if something was wrong.

  Blake had glanced briefly at Jessie, then said, “Just making sure I’m not being poisoned.”

  Jessie had come right back with, “Thanks for the idea. I’ll have to see what I can come up with.”

  Daniella had choked on a mouthful of coffee. Serena had raised her eyebrows almost to her hairline. Pace didn’t know whether to laugh, turn Jessie over his knee, or beat the crap out of the good captain.

  Since he still felt weak as a kitten, Pace opted for prudence. He grabbed up the rifle and stood. “I’ll take first watch tonight.”

  “Coward,” Serena muttered.

  That had been days ago, but nothing had changed. Except for a funny feeling Pace kept getting now and then. He’d tried to dismiss it, but Serena felt it, too. She’d come to him in the darkness last night when he’d stood watch.

  “You’re troubled,” Pace said to her.

  “Not troubled,” she said. “Thoughtful.”

  “About Renard.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” Serena said. “And not just about what he and Jessie mean to each other. About him. The man. There is power there,” she added softly.

  “Yes. With water. I’ve seen it,” Pace admitted. “It reminds me of old Nana out on the warpath. No matter where he was, he could always find ammunition.”

  “Like Blake can always find water. Even when you and I can’t.”

  “Yeah, too bad about him,” Pace offered with a quiet chuckle. “For a white man, he’d make a pretty damn good Apache.”

  Serena laughed, her spirit lighter for having shared her thoughts. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Trust me, he would not think it was a compliment.”

  “Like I said. Too bad about him.”

  Pace and Serena had looked at each other in the darkness and shared their laughter, their closeness, like they hadn’t in years.