Texas Heart

  Mr. Murphy would have repeated her lie.

  "Why are you asking?"

  His sly smile gave him a deadly appearance.

  "No reason. I just noticed that he wasn't riding with you."

  When she said nothing, his glance slid to Danny and Thad.

  "Yours?"

  "My brothers."

  "Brothers."

  He dismissed them as harmless and turned his attention back to Jessie.

  His look raked her.

  "The way I hear it, you could use some money."

  Mr. Murphy again.

  There were no secrets safe in a town as small as this.

  The man was looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

  She leaned down to take the reins from him, but his hand closed over hers.

  His tone was low, intimate.

  "I could always use a new girl in my place."

  She glanced at the closed doors of the saloon.

  From within came the sound of men's voices.

  Above them could be heard a woman's laughter.

  "I don't need money that badly."

  His eyes narrowed.

  Before she could pull away, he caught her by the front of the shirt, nearly yanking her off her horse.

  Her hand went to the gun in the waistband of her pants, but his hand was quicker.

  Before she could move, he had disarmed her and sent her sprawling in the dust.

  Terrified, Thad let out a cry and turned to his brother for solace, Seeing the man reach for Jessie, Danny lifted the rifle skyward and squeezed off a shot that echoed and reechoed through the town.

  Before he could aim and fire again, the rifle was shot cleanly from his hand.

  With a shriek of pain Danny clutched the singed hand to his chest and watched helplessly as the saloon owner stood leering at his sister.

  Heads poked from open doorways.

  Men stood at windows, watching the scene without emotion.

  Across the street, Mr. Murphy quickly closed his doors and hurried to the back room where he lived behind the store.

  "Now," the saloon owner said, holding Jessie's pistol against her temple, "as I see it, this boy threatened my life. I have the right to defend myself against attack."

  "And what about my rights?"

  He gave her a wicked smile that caused her heart to stop.

  "These are your rights. You can step inside and agree to work for me, or you can watch those two brothers of yours die. Afterward, you'll work for me anyhow just to pay their burial fee."

  Jessie lay, still sprawled in the dust, feeling her breath coming in short quick gasps.

  What kind of town was this?

  Was there no one who would stop this man?

  Would they all hide behind their closed doors and allow this terrible thing to happen?

  A wave of self-loathing swept her.

  How could she have been so careless as to daydream when she should have had her wits about her?

  This was the second time her carelessness had managed to get her into big trouble.

  Thad was crying harder now.

  The sound nearly broke her heart.

  "Speak up, missy. Are you going to cooperate?"

  Before she could respond, a cold unrecognizable voice said, "Now you have two choices, big man. Drop the gun and step away from the woman, or die where you are."

  "What... ?"

  The man looked up and saw Cole Matthews astride his horse, aiming a gun directly at him.

  He knew from the look in those eyes that this was a man who would never back away from a fight.

  He blinked, then made a hasty, foolish · decision.

  He pressed the cold steel against Jessie's head and snarled, "Don't try it. I'll kill her."

  "I guess you've made your choice."

  Slowly, deliberately, Cole aimed his pistol and fired.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

  Jessie heard the sound of the gun being fired, heard the shrill 'scream of her little brother, felt the warmth of the man's blood as it spilled across her shirt.

  As the man toppled into the dust, Jessie was grasped by firm hands.

  She found herself stating into the steely eyes of Cole.

  Seeing the blood on her shirt, he ripped it open, searching for a wound.

  Seeing none, he realized it was the saloon owner's blood and let out a long hiss of breath.

  She heard someone crying but didn't realize it was Thad, heard the distant murmur of voices but had no idea where they were coming from.

  She felt strong arms lift her, heard a voice say, "Hellfire and damnation! Get your rifle, Danny. Thad, take the reins of your sister's horse. Both of you move out ahead of me. Now. Before the whole damned town comes gunning for us."

  Cradled in Cole's arms, her face was pressed against a rough, scratchy shirt.

  She inhaled the musky scent of Cole.

  And as a horse moved in a loose, easy gait beneath her, she heard his deep voice say, "Woman, it seems like all I've been doing since I met you is hauling your hide out of trouble."

  She wanted to say something cutting, something that would let this man know that she would have handled it herself if she'd been given more time.

  But she humiliated herself by clinging to him, by burying her face against his throat.

  And worst of all, by crying.

  Chapter Seven

  Cole,s arms tightened about Jessie as she struggled with the sobs that shook her.

  He shivered slightly as her warm tears traced the hollow of his throat.

  It tore him up to hear this fierce little female crying.

  What was worse, she was fighting every tear, every sob.

  She had been through too much these past days.

  It was all catching up with her.

  It frustrated Cole that there was no time to comfort her, to say the words she needed to hear.

  While he led the way to safety, he continued to look over his shoulder.

  In a gunfight, he knew he could count on only himself.

  And though he hadn't wanted this to happen, he was now responsible for the safety of these three innocents.

  The Fates were playing tricks on him, he thought angrily.

  The last thing he needed in his already complicated life was one more obligation.

  But for now, he had no choice.

  They rode for hours beneath a scorching sun.

  When Jessie was strong enough to ride alone, Cole helped her into the saddle and took the lead.

  None of them spoke.

  After the first hours, he stopped looking over his shoulder.

  Maybe this time good luck had favored them.

  Maybe the saloon owner had no friends willing to avenge his death.

  Jessie and her brothers never questioned where they were headed.

  Cole had assumed the role of leader.

  They were more than willing to follow him.

  For now.

  By sundown they had crossed the Pecos River and made camp on the far side.

  The horses drank gratefully, then began grazing nearby.

  Jessie untied her bedroll and laid out their fresh supplies.

  But when she attempted to put together a meal, a heaviness seemed to envelop her, slowing her movements.

  She managed to mix up a batch of dough and set the pan of biscuits over hot rocks to bake slowly.

  She lifted a pot of boiling coffee from the fire and set it aside.

  But as she bent to the task of cutting strips of dried meat, she felt perspiration bead on her forehead and upper lip.

  It was merely the heat of the fire, she told herself, pressing her arm to her face.

  She was warm.

  Too warm.

  She looked up, shaking her head from side to side to ward off a feeling of dizziness.

  Near the river she saw a shimmering halo of light.

  For a moment the light disappeared and she recognized D
anny and Thad watering their horses.

  Then the light appeared brighter than before, and she felt the world spin in circles.

  Alarmed, she sat perfectly still and waited for the moment to pass.

  When her head finally cleared, she leaned back against a rock and closed her eyes.

  She was tired.

  So tired.

  She would rest, she promised herself, for only a minute or two.

  And then she would call the others to supper.

  Half an hour later, Cole saw her sitting quietly, her face lifted to the sky.

  When he walked closer, he realized that she was fast asleep.

  For long minutes he stood over her, enjoying the vision.

  If possible, she was even more beautiful in repose.

  By the light of the fire, her lashes cast long shadows over high cheekbones.

  Her lips were parted slightly, and as he knelt beside her, he felt the warmth of her breath against his hand.

  Touching a strand of hair, he marveled once more at its softness.

  Up close he could count the freckles that paraded across her nose, and he had an almost unreasonable desire to kiss every damned one of them.

  He lifted her easily in his arms and carried her to her bedroll.

  When he settled her gently among the blankets, she sighed softly.

  Her lips lifted in a smile, and he wondered what she was dreaming about: Tucking the covers about her shoulders, he knelt a moment longer, savoring this last chance to watch her without her knowledge.

  Then heating the voices of her brothers as they returned from the river, he stood and began dishing up their meal.

  It was Thad who innocently told Cole the truth about their search for their father.

  "Do you think we'll find Pa soon, Danny?"

  Thad asked.

  Cole looked up.

  "I thought you knew where he was."

  Thad shrugged.

  "Jessie said he could be anywhere between Texas and Kansas," he said between bites of supper.

  "I thought he was in Abilene."

  Cole poured a cup of coffee and watched as Danny and Thad exchanged a glance.

  Jessie stirred and noticed that her brothers seemed uncomfortable and that Cole had gone very still.

  She straggled to stay awake long enough to hear what they were saying.

  "Pa left on a cattle drive about three months ago," Danny explained.

  "Three months is a long time."

  Cole rolled a cigarette and held a flaming stick to the tip.

  Though he assumed a casual pose, he was alert to every word.

  "That's what Jessie said. That's why she decided to find him."

  "Did your father know the others on the drive?"

  Danny shook his head.

  "He joined up with a bunch of strangers. The top drover said theirs would be the biggest drive in all Texas before they were through. He said it was safer going through Indian Territory with a lot of men."

  Cole was frowning, deep in thought.

  "Maybe your father's just taking his time coming home."

  Danny's voice trembled with intensity.

  "We know our pa. Nothing would keep Big Jack Conway from coming home."

  Cole could think of a couple of things, and one in particular, Death.

  These kids weren't addled.

  They would have thought of that.

  What Jessie was probably searching for was proof of her father's death.

  Though he hated to admit it, Cole admired her spunk.

  He'd do the same thing.

  Still, alone, these kids didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of making it to Abilene.

  But with the right assistance.

  For an hour or more he waged a losing battle with himself.

  He'd make much better time riding alone.

  And he didn't need to take on anyone else's troubles.

  Still they were heading in the same direction.

  And besides, now that he knew the facts, he'd just found a compelling reason why he ought to be the one to accompany them on their journey.

  Jessie woke to the still, incandescent light of predawn.

  She was instantly alert.

  The lethargy with which she had been burdened last night was gone.

  She remembered clearly everything that had happened to her the previous day.

  She had been careless.

  And that moment of carelessness had nearly cost the lives of her brothers.

  She would remember well the lesson learned.

  She glanced about the camp fire and saw that the others were still asleep.

  Touching a hand to her stiff bloodstained shirt, she pushed aside the blanket and sat up.

  Before anyone awoke she needed to wash away the blood of the vile saloon owner.

  His blood and his touch.

  Her boots were standing neatly beside her blanket.

  Had she prepared supper last night?

  Had she taken time to eat?

  She remembered sitting quietly, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

  She could recall a feeling of floating, of drifting, of strong arms cradling her.

  At the time, she'd dreamed that Pa was carrying her to a loft in the barn.

  But now she realized it could not have been Pa.

  She touched a hand to her suddenly warm cheeks.

  It must have been Cole.

  Then she remembered something else.

  Cole had been questioning her brothers about Pa.

  She felt a moment of panic.

  She hadn't wanted him to know much about their business.

  But she remembered the way he had gone all quiet when Danny mentioned the cattle drive.

  She brushed aside her worries.

  Cole would soon be leaving them.

  In fact he was eager to get away.

  Rummaging through her saddlebag, her fingers encountered the soap.

  But when she removed it, she discovered that it was not the yellow soap she had used since her childhood.

  It was round, having been poured into a mold.

  It was pink.

  And it gave off a fragrance reminiscent of crushed rose petals.

  She stared at it for long moments before realizing what it meant.

  She turned toward the man sleeping beside the glowing embers of the fire.

  Cole had hated her soap.

  And he had been in the mercantile after she left.

  Was it possible that a gunman would take the time to buy her something so wonderful?

  She felt a lump rise in her throat and quickly swallowed it.

  She had never had a gift from a man before.

  Oh, her pa had once brought her a lace handkerchief from San Antonio.

  It still lay under her pillow, untouched.

  It was too beautiful to ever use.

  It was enough to look at it, to know that it was hers.

  But nothing could equal this.

  She lifted the soap to her nose and breathed deeply.

  Ma had once had a bottle of rose water.

  Jessie had thought it was the prettiest fragrance in the whole world.

  Whenever she smelled it on her mother, she was reminded of the woman she would one day become.

  But she had long ago used all of it to bathe the tiny babe her mother had left behind.

  It would, Jessie had reasoned, keep Ma's memory alive for Thad.

  Besides, she would never be the beautiful creature her ma had been.

  She would always be just plain Jessie.

  Digging into her saddlebags, she pulled out the gob of yellow soap.

  It just didn't seem right to use something as wonderful as rose-scented soap on her grimy clothes.

  Moving silently, Jessie walked to the river and removed her shirt and britches.

  Rubbing the stained shirt with sand and then with lye soap, she was able to remove most of the blood.

  Spreading the wet shir
t on a low-hanging bush, she walked into the river until the water was as high as her shoulders.

  Holding her breath, she ducked beneath the water and came up sputtering.

  Carefully working the rose-scented soap through her hair, she lathered, then ducked once more beneath the water until all the soap floated free.

  She breathed deeply, loving the fragrance that seemed to envelop her.

  She couldn't remember ever feeling this pampered.

  Moving the soap along her body, she marveled at the way it felt on her skin.

  When at last she strode from the creek, she felt truly cleansed.

  Shivering slightly, she dried herself and pulled on her chemise and britches.

  She touched a hand to the freshly washed shirt.

  It was still damp.

  Without a breeze, it would take another hour to dry.

  "Looking for this?"

  Jessie looked up to see Cole leaning against a tree, one foot crossed carelessly over the other.

  In his hand was a clean shirt, the one she had returned to him.

  With a look of disdain, she snatched the shirt from his hand and turned away before pulling it on.

  "How long have you been watching?" she called over her shoulder.

  He bit back a grin at the angry tone.

  "Not nearly long enough."

  She turned around, still tucking the ends of the shirt into her britches.

  He tried not to stare at the way the shirt strained across her breasts.

  "You smell good, Jessie."

  She felt herself blush clear down to her toes and was grateful that the dawn light had just begun to cover the land.

  "I--thank you for the soap, Cole."

  "Isn't that better than lye soap?"

  She couldn't help returning his smile.

  "Much better. Why did you buy it for me?"

  "I thought you'd like it."

  He rolled a cigarette and held a match to the tip.

  He exhaled a stream of smoke and added, "Besides, I wanted to pay you back somehow for the way you took care of me when I was shot."

  "Pay me..."

  He saw her smile fade.

  Fool, she berated herself.

  It wasn't a gift.

  It was payment.

  So that he could walk away from her without owing a debt.

  All the warmth left her.

  In a flat voice she said, "I hope you didn't spend too much on it.

  Because what I did for you, I would have done for a dog."

  He tossed the cigarette aside and bit back a torrent of oaths.

  "Hellfire and damnation!"