Texas Outlaws: Jesse

by Kimberly Raye

  “See?” Cole pushed back a strand of unruly brown hair and stared defiantly at Jesse. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

  “You’ve got it hooked in the front,” Wendy announced. “It’s supposed to hook in the back. Isn’t that right, Mr. McGinnis?”

  “Sure enough, Miss Wendy.” The older man slipped the last pin into Jesse’s hem and turned to work on Cole’s tux. In a matter of seconds, he readjusted the shiny taffeta material and stepped back. “There. Now it’s perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Cole frowned. “But I look like a—”

  “Where’s Pete?” Jesse cut in, drawing Wendy’s attention before Cole could say something he would later regret.

  And Jesse had no doubt his middle brother would do just that. Cole had zero filters when it came to running his mouth, which explained why he ended up in more than his fair share of bar fights.

  “He’s trying on his tuxedo in the next room,” Wendy replied. “He’ll be out in a second.” She turned a grateful smile on Cole. “Listen, I know you don’t feel comfortable all dressed up like this, but I really appreciate it.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Jesse cut in before Cole could open his mouth again.

  “Damn straight it is.” The comment came from Billy, who waltzed in wearing the same tuxedo.

  Wendy turned on the youngest Chisholm and her eyes went misty. “You look wonderful!”

  Billy winked. “Anything for you and Pete.” He stepped up on the dais next to Cole so that Mr. McGinnis could work on the hem of his pants. “Ain’t that right, bro?” He clapped Cole on the shoulder.

  The middle Chisholm shrugged free. “I guess so.”

  “I was hoping you’d feel that way.” Another smile touched Wendy’s pink lips and Jesse knew she had something up her sleeve even before she added, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Cole. See, one of my friends is flying in from Houston and I need someone to pick her up at the airport. I would get Red to do it, but Hannah—that’s her name—comes in smack-dab during his soap opera time, and you know how that goes.”

  Red owned the only cab in Lost Gun. He was also a die-hard soap opera fan. Since he was as old as dirt, he hadn’t yet discovered TiVo or a DVR, which meant he was completely out of commission between the hours of 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. on any given weekday.

  “She tried to get a different flight,” Wendy went on, “but it’s the only one that will put her here in time for the rehearsal dinner.”

  “No problem,” Jesse said. “Cole here would be happy to pick her up for you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder, his hand lingering. “Isn’t that right?”

  “But I’ve got a training session—” the younger Chisholm started. Jesse dug his fingers into muscle and Cole bit out, “All right, already. I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Excitement lit Wendy’s eyes.

  Jesse dug his fingers even deeper and the younger man blurted, “Sure thing. Family’s family,” he muttered. “We stick together.”

  “Great, because I told her all about you and she’s dying to meet you.”

  “Who’s dying to meet who?” Pete Gunner walked into the fitting area and slid an arm around his wife-to-be.

  “Hannah,” Wendy told him. “Ever since she moved to Houston from New York, she’s been dying to meet a real cowboy. I told her all about Cole and she’s super hyped.”

  “Wait a second.” Cole shrugged loose from Jesse’s warning grasp. “Picking her up is one thing, but this sounds like a setup.”

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to be her date for the wedding.”

  “That’s a relief.” Cole tugged at the tie around his neck as if he couldn’t quite breathe. “For a second there, I thought you wanted me to babysit her the entire night.”

  “Of course not.” Wendy smiled. “Just sit with her during the reception. And maybe ask her to dance once or twice. Oh, and make sure she gets back to the motel that night and—”

  “Pretty much babysit her the whole danged night,” Cole cut in. His mouth pulled into a tight line. “Hell’s bells. I knew it. It is a setup.”

  “Okay, maybe it is.” Wendy shrugged. “But it’ll be fun. And speaking of fun, I’ve got to decide on the actual centerpiece so the florist can finalize the order.” She planted a kiss on her groom’s lips and headed for a nearby doorway and the endless array of floral arrangements spread out on a table in the next room.

  Cole opened his mouth, but Pete held up a hand. “Don’t fight it, bro. It’ll only make things worse.”

  “But I can get my own date.”

  “True, but Wendy doesn’t want you bringing one of your usual buckle bunnies to the wedding.”

  “He’s talking about the Barbie triplets,” Billy chimed in.

  “They’re not triplets,” Cole said. “They’re just sisters who are close in age. And I wasn’t going to bring all three. Just Crystal. She’s the oldest and the prettiest.”

  “And the wildest,” Pete added, “which is why she’s off-limits for the wedding. Wendy thinks you need to meet a nice girl.”

  “I meet plenty of nice girls.” Cole unhooked the cummerbund and handed it to Mr. McGinnis.

  “Nice and easy,” Billy added.

  “What’s wrong with easy?”

  “Nothing if you’re sixteen and horny as hell,” the youngest Chisholm pointed out. “You’re twenty-nine. You should be thinking about your future.”

  “Like you?”

  “Damn straight.” Billy nodded. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got my own date already lined up for the wedding and I can guarantee her last name isn’t Barbie.”

  “Big Earl Jessup’s great-granddaughter is not a date,” Cole pointed out. “She’s a death wish. She’s liable to challenge you to an arm-wrestling match.”

  “So she’s a little rough around the edges,” Billy admitted. “She’s a tomboy, and that just means we’ve got a shitload in common. She’s interesting.”

  “And safe,” Jesse offered.

  “Exactly.” Billy unhooked his own tie and handed it to the tailor. “I’m not looking to settle down, which makes Casey Jessup the perfect date for this wedding. I don’t have to worry about her sitting around getting bright ideas from all this hoopla. She’s as far from wife material as a woman can get.”

  “Casey’s got a cousin.” Cole’s gaze shifted to Pete. “I could ask her to the wedding.”

  “Too late. Wendy got the draw on you and now you’ve got to man up.”

  “But I hate fix-ups.” He shrugged off his jacket.

  “Look on the bright side,” Billy added, “Wendy’s friend could turn out to have a smoking-hot body and zero morals.”

  Cole shook his head. “You know the odds of that are slim to none.”

  “True, but it can’t hurt to fantasize.” Jesse motioned to Billy. “Just like this one outriding me in Vegas in a few weeks.”

  “That buckle is mine,” Billy vowed, trying to wrestle free when Jesse grabbed him in a headlock.

  “Keep thinking that and maybe one day you’ll knock me out of the running.” But not this time. Jesse had been working too long and too hard to go down with just one buckle to his credit. He wanted a second. And a third. Hell, maybe even a fourth.

  And then?

  He let go of his brother and shifted his attention to the next room and a dreamy-eyed Wendy, who moved from arrangement to arrangement eyeing the various flowers.

  For a split second, he saw Gracie leaning over a bouquet of lilies, her eyes sparkling, her full, luscious lips curved into a smile. Fast-forward to another vision of the two of them standing at the altar saying “I do,” living happily ever after.

  Crazy.

  Not the “I do” part, mind you. Jesse wasn’t opposed to settling down and having a family. It was
the notion of living happily ever after with Gracie Stone that was just plumb loco.

  She represented everything he wanted desperately to forget—his past, this town.

  He wanted to escape them both. That was why he’d kept his distance all these years.

  Why he needed to keep his distance now.

  Jesse stiffened and peeled off the tuxedo jacket. “I need to head out.” The back way this time. No way was he going to risk another run-in with her out front. She’d smelled so good and looked even more luscious than anything in the front window of the bakery.

  And damned if he’d been able to think straight with her right in front of him.

  That was why he’d talked to her. Flirted with her.

  Crazy.

  “Why don’t you come back to the house with me and Wendy?” Pete’s voice drew his attention. “Eli’s got the cook working on a big spread for supper. The twins are visiting from El Paso. We could make it a family dinner.”

  The twins were Jimmy and Jake Barber, fast-rising stars on the team-roping circuit and the last two members of the notorious Lost Boys. They’d lived out at Pete’s ranch with Jesse and his brothers up until Pete had proposed to Wendy last year. Jesse and the others had gotten together then and decided with Pete settling down and retiring, it was time for the rest of them to spread their wings. The twins had moved up to El Paso. Cole was in Houston. Billy had just bought a few hundred acres outside of Lost Gun and was making plans to build a house of his own. And Jesse had finally bought a spread in Austin.

  Now it was just a matter of tying up all the loose ends here—namely selling his stock at the training facility—and moving on.

  “Come on,” Pete prompted. “It’s been forever since we’ve all sat down together. Maybe Eli will pull out his guitar.”

  “Sounds tempting, but the drive out will put me back at the motel close to midnight and I need to be up early.”

  “So stay over at the ranch house. Hell, I don’t know why you’re cooped up at that motel in the first place.”

  “Because you’re this close to tying the knot, bro. You and Wendy deserve a little privacy.” Pete arched an eyebrow and Jesse added, “That way if you guys want to get naked in the dining room or the front parlor, there’s nobody stopping you.”

  Pete looked ready to protest, but then he shrugged. “I suppose a man can’t argue with getting naked. So what about you?” He eyed Jesse. “You got a date for the wedding? If not, I’m sure Wendy could rustle up a friend.”

  “I’ve got a few possibilities.”

  “Just make sure none of them work down at Luscious Longhorns—otherwise she’ll blow a gasket.” Pete grinned for a long moment before his look faded into one of serious intent. “Eli mentioned that Gracie came to see you today.”

  Jesse nodded. “They’re going to re-air the television show.”

  “When?”

  “Tuesday a week.”

  “Maybe you ought to leave early, then. Head up to Austin and get some extra practice time in before your next rodeo.”

  “I can practice here just fine. Besides, I’ve got another buyer coming in to look at a few more bulls in the morning. I want to get them all sold off before I leave. That and there’s a little something called a wedding I need to be here for.”

  “You could always miss it.”

  Jesse shook his head. “Like hell. I’m your best man.”

  “And I’m the guy who watched you nurse a few dozen broken bones thanks to a she-devil named Diamond Dust. I have no desire to do it again.”

  “I was eighteen and gun-shy when it came to the press. I can handle it now. You just worry about getting your sorry hide to the church on Saturday.” Jesse grinned. “Because I plan to keep you out plenty late the night before for the bachelor party.”

  “Thanks, man.” Pete clapped him on the back. “I owe you one.”

  But it was Jesse who owed Pete. The man had saved him and his brothers all those years ago, and no way was Jesse jumping ship on the most important day of Pete’s life. He was here and he was staying until the festivities were over.

  Even more, he wasn’t the same kid who’d been blindsided all those years ago. He dealt with reporters all the time now, not to mention overzealous fans and even the occasional critic. It was just a matter of staying one step ahead.

  And he was, thanks to Gracie.

  Because she wanted to keep the peace in her small town.

  That was the only reason she’d gone to the trouble of warning him. He knew that. At the same time, he couldn’t shake the crazy hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d wanted to see him.

  As much as he’d wanted to see her.

  There was no denying the chemistry that still sizzled between them. He’d felt the charge in the air, and so had she. There’d been no mistaking the tremble of her full bottom lip or the glimmer in her eyes. He knew the look even after all these years.

  Yep, the chemistry was still there.

  Not that it meant anything.

  She was still determined to keep her distance—her quick retreat into the health food store proved that—and so was he.

  He tamped down a sudden rush of disappointment. “I’d better get going. I want to get in another ride or two before I call it a night.” He shed the tie and cummerbund and headed back to the dressing room to retrieve his clothes.

  And then Jesse snuck out the back way and turned his attention to the one thing that wasn’t beyond his reach—another PBR championship.

  6

  THIS WAS THE last place he needed to be.

  The thought struck later that evening as Jesse pulled into the dirt driveway of the three-acre lot that sat just a few blocks over from City Hall.

  He was supposed to be back at the motel, eating takeout and icing his shoulder after a hellacious training session. Or nursing a few beers at the local honky-tonk with his brothers. Or playing a few rounds of pool at one of the beer joints out on the interstate.

  Anywhere but here, smack-dab in the middle of the town he so desperately hated.

  His gaze pushed through the settling darkness and scanned the area. Once upon a time, reporters had walked every inch of this sad, miserable stretch, picking through the burned ruins that had once been the two-room shack that Jesse and his brothers had shared with their dad. The small single-car garage still sat in the far back corner, the paint peeling, the roof rusted out. His dad’s broken-down 1970 Buick sat next to the shell of a building, the doors missing, the frame rusted and rotting.

  The shame of Lost Gun.

  That was how the newspapers had referred to the Chisholm place when Famous Texas Outlaws had aired for the first time on the Discovery Channel.

  Not that his dad had been a famous Texas outlaw. Far from it. Silas Chisholm had been a wannabe with a lust for easy money and an aversion to hard work, which was why he’d moved his three young boys to Lost Gun in the first place.

  The town had originated as a haven to criminals and gamblers back in the early 1800s. Lost Gun, so named because it was rumored to be home to a pearl-handled Colt once belonging to one of Texas’s most notorious outlaws—John Wesley Hardin. The man had supposedly hidden the gun while on the run from Texas Rangers, but other than a colorful legend, there’d never been any actual proof of its existence.

  Word of mouth had been enough for a recently widowed Silas to uproot his three sons from Beaumont, Texas, and travel across the state in search of the valuable Colt. When the gun hadn’t panned out, Silas had started looking for another big-money opportunity.

  Now, remember, son, when things look bad and it looks like you’re not gonna make it, then you gotta get mean. I mean plumb mad-dog mean. ’Cause if you lose your head and you give up, then you neither live nor win.

  His dad’s words echoed in his head. As w
orthless as the man had been, he’d been just as determined when it came to finding an easy payday. After an endless string of dead-end schemes, he’d turned to the Lost Gun Savings & Loan.

  Jesse still wasn’t sure how he’d pulled it off, but he’d actually made off with a quarter of a million dollars. All pissed away when he’d drunk himself into a stupor later that same night. He’d passed out with a cigarette in his mouth that had resulted in a deadly blaze.

  He’d died in that fire because Jesse, only thirteen at the time, hadn’t been strong enough to drag him off the couch. Even more, the fortune Silas had been so anxious to get his hands on had gone up in flames.

  Not that everybody believed the money had perished. Curt Calhoun, the reporter who’d aired the story five years later, had posed so many questions that folks had started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the money might still be out there. Calhoun’s speculation had pulled in every two-bit criminal this side of the Rio Grande, not to mention a shitload of fortune hunters. They’d descended on the small town like a pack of hungry coyotes.

  Jesse stiffened against the sudden tightening in his chest. He hadn’t been out here in a long, long time.

  Try never.

  No, the closest Jesse came was the rodeo arena that sat ten miles outside the city limits.

  But this was it. His last trip to the town itself. He was moving on, settling down, living his dream, and that meant laying the past to rest once and for all.

  “Sell it,” he’d told his lawyer just yesterday.

  The mountain of paperwork would be ready for Jesse’s signature by the end of the week, which meant he had all of five days to go through what was left of the garage and the old car and salvage anything he might want to keep.

  Of course, he’d have to get out of his truck first.

  He would.

  He was sure there was nothing of value left to keep. Vandals had made off with nearly everything. Old tools. Car parts. After so many years, there wasn’t a single thing left.

  Still, he’d promised Mr. Lambert he would do a walk-through, and that was what he intended to do.