Taming of Jessi Rose

  “Yes, Ros, I did, many times.”

  “He don’t believe you, though.”

  “No.”

  “See?” He then took another draw from the bottle that had been resting in his lap. “Arrogant man, my pa, but I hear that Blake’s got him on the run. Anybody that’ll throw a chair through Pa’s window is a good man, to my thinking. Is he a good man, Jessi girl?”

  Jessi nodded.

  “Glad to hear it. Hope he gives Pa hell.”

  He took another healthy draw on the bottle. “Now, go on back to the party. I got more drinking to do.”

  “Ros—”

  “Go on. You shouldn’t be seen with the likes of me. Not when I’m like this.”

  She tried one last time. “Do you want me to find someone to walk you back to the hotel?”

  “Nope. Find my own way on my own. Eventually.”

  “All right then.” She headed back up the alley.

  “Jessi Rose?”

  She turned back.

  He said, “I’m sorry about what happened to Dex. If I could’ve stopped it, I would’ve.”

  “So he was shot on Reed’s orders?”

  “Yep.”

  “Would you be willing to say that to a jury?”

  “Maybe, but not today. Today, I got a lot more drinking to do.”

  “Ros?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded at her, and then, as if he were alone, began to sing softly once more.

  Jessi stepped out of the alley and back onto the walk to find Two Shafts leaning against the front of Gillie’s shop with his arms folded across his chest. He looked to be waiting for her. She wondered if he’d been following her. She was just about to quiz him when Minerva Darcy and a group of her harpies came up the walk. They began whispering and raising their noses as soon as they got within wind of her, and as they walked by, the overdressed Minerva looked from Two Shafts to Jessie and quipped, “I didn’t know whores were allowed to ply their wares on the same streets where decent women walk.”

  Some of the women tittered.

  Jessi felt anger course through her veins.

  They were only a few steps past Jessi when she walked up behind them and called out, “Hey, Eula!”

  When Minerva turned, the solid punch Jessi gave her sent her sprawling to the walk where decent women walk. Minerva lay on the ground with her eyes wide and her hand to her jaw. As Minerva looked down at the enamel in her hand, she cried, “You’ve broken one of my teeth!”

  Two Shafts began laughing so hard Jessi thought he was going to roll on the walk too. Jessi hand hurt like the dickens, but she felt good. “Sorry,” Jessi told her coldly, “I was gunning for three.”

  Two Shafts howled. By now the altercation had drawn a small crowd. Minerva’s harpies were cowering like a bunch of scared chickens, and only after they seemed certain Jessi was done throwing punches did they rush to Minerva’s side.

  Jessi turned her attention to the still chuckling Comanche. “Shall we go?”

  “Certainly. By the way, hell of a punch, Jessita, hell of a punch.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you decide not to marry Cheno, will you marry me?”

  Watching Minerva struggle to her feet, Jessi cracked in parting, “See you around, Eula.”

  Minerva’s eyes were filled with fire.

  As they walked back to the saloon Shafts asked, “Hand still hurting?”

  Jessi cradled her sore hand with the other. She grimaced. “A lot.”

  “We’ll see if Doyle has any ice. Cheno’s going to tie me behind a horse when he finds out I let you brawl in the streets. I was under orders to watch you.”

  “He doesn’t have to know.”

  The Comanche shook his head. “It’s going to be all over town by the time we get back to the saloon. He’ll know. All he’ll have to do is look at that hand.”

  Jessi could feel pain radiating up her wrist. “Who knew the woman had such a hard jaw?”

  “But she dropped like a stone.” And Two Shafts began laughing all over again.

  When they got to Auntie’s, Doyle immediately stuck Jessi’s hand down inside a big barrel filled with ice and he held it there until she swore her fingers would pop off like New York icicles. “That’s enough, Doyle! My hand’s frozen like a pond.”

  He released her wrist and Jessi slowly pulled her frigid hand free of the barrel. She gingerly flexed her knuckles. The pain had lessened somewhat, but if the hand wasn’t broken, it sure felt as if it were.

  Somebody found the doc and brought him into the storeroom where Jessi sat with her aching hand. Dr. Lazarus Salt had known Jessi all her life. When he came in, he shook his white head and said, “Well, little girl, what have you broken now?”

  “My hand, I believe.”

  He bent over her hand and examined it slowly. “Aren’t you a bit old to still be falling out of trees?”

  She grinned. While growing up she’d broken her right arm and her left wrist in two separate tree falls: the arm when she was seven, the wrist at age ten. “Ouch!” Jessi yelled, as he moved her fingers this way and that.

  “Not broken. Bruised.”

  He straightened. “It’s going to hurt for a few days. Try to keep ice on it if you have any at the ranch. Either way it’s gonna swell, but you’ll be right as rain, eventually.”

  After he wrapped up her hand, he then looked to Doyle. “Where’s that man of hers? He know she’s out brawling in the streets?”

  Doyle grinned. “I don’t think so, Laz.”

  “Well, find him and tell him.”

  And he left.

  Doyle and Two Shafts began to laugh. Jessi rolled her eyes.

  Upstairs, Griffin was engaged in a different kind of brawl, and ironically enough, the victim was also a Darcy. It seemed Reed was not as expert at poker as he believed himself to be, at least not when playing against Griffin. Stacked in front of the train robber were numerous piles of bills, gold eagles, double eagles, and octagonal-shaped slugs, most of which came out of the pockets of Darcy and his friends. Stacked in front of Reed, nothing. Word had it that when Reed had begun losing heavily, he’d sent somebody over to the bank to get more money to cover his last bets, but it hadn’t mattered, Griffin had taken that too.

  Jessi and Two Shafts entered the smoky silent room where the poker was being played and Jessi felt the tension immediately. Neil tipped over and very quietly related what was going on.

  “Is Griffin really that good?” Jessi asked, looking at the gold stacked in front of her favorite train robber.

  “Darcy and his friends will be lucky to still have their drawers on when Cheno is done with them.”

  Jessi scanned the room. There were many familiar faces among the men ringing the room, like the glowering Percy West, but many that were not. She assumed that the few well-dressed White men looking on intently were investor friends of Darcy’s. By some of the accents she could hear as they whispered back and forth, it was quite obvious that most were from England. Englishmen and other foreigners began flocking to Texas and buying up ranches back in ’82, but they didn’t seem to know a lot about cattle ranching. Rustlers preyed upon them mercilessly and most went broke during the hard winter of ’84 and the drought of ’85. She’d heard that many of the English had returned home because of the losses, leaving behind towns with names like Shamrock, Wellington, and Clarendon.

  Jessi wondered if the Englishmen were throwing in with Reed Darcy on the railroad scheme in an attempt to offset those losses. The land around Vale would be lucrative if the railroad and Darcy were successful in their attempts to gain control, but they’d have to go through her first.

  Neil’s prophecy proved correct. Griffin fleeced Reed and his guests like spring sheep, and as the game lengthened and the stakes soared higher, more and more people began squeezing into the room to watch.

  Jessi noted that Griffin played decisively, and that his cards never showed on his handsome face.
A few of the Englishmen left the table, enraged not only by their losing, but by the former outlaw’s expertise. His prowess at poker far exceeded their own and he had a pile of gold and notes stacked in front of him to prove it.

  It was quite obvious to the onlookers that none of the men at the table had any business cutting cards with Griffin, especially Reed. The more he lost, the angrier he became and the more recklessly he played. During the late stages of the game, the third-to-last player folded, leaving Griffin and Reed to play on alone. Reed had lost a substantial amount of money, money Jessi hoped he had because Griffin played poker like a man with a gift.

  To aid Reed, some of his friends began staking him as the calls went higher and higher. They smugly assumed Griffin would not be able to match the amounts, but he had more than enough winnings to keep himself afloat, especially after Neil slapped the old carpet bag on the table. Auntie slapped some gold on the table for Griffin too, as did Doyle and the old doctor.

  As it turned out, Griffin didn’t need the support of his friends. When the last hand ended, you could hear a pin drop.

  Griffin gathered up the cards and set them aside. “Well, Mr. Darcy. I believe you owe me roughly fifteen thousand dollars.”

  The sum was astronomical, even for someone as wealthy as Reed. He looked stunned. Not only had he lost his own funds, but he’d squandered the hundreds he’d borrowed from his well-heeled friends. Jessi didn’t believe any of them could afford to loose that much money.

  “Deal another hand,” Darcy demanded angrily. “You owe me a chance to make good.”

  “I gave you that chance an hour ago, remember?”

  He had, and everyone in the room knew it. He’d owed Griffin ten thousand then, but instead of bowing out gracefully, Reed’s pride had kept him playing and he’d gone another five thousand in the hole.

  “There’s no way I’m going to pay you fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Why not?” Griffin asked coolly. “Can’t you back your bets?”

  It was a double-edged question. Any answer Reed gave would land him in hot water.

  Griffin waited, as did everyone else gathered around.

  Jessi watched Reed glance around the room, and when his eyes settled on hers, she met his gaze without emotion.

  “Pay the man his money or your word won’t be worth a dime anywhere,” one of the Englishmen warned.

  “Shut up!” Reed’s replied angrily. “Stay out of this.”

  Was he going to have to admit he couldn’t cover the bets? Jessi wondered.

  “All right,” Darcy finally relented. “I’m a bit short of cash right now. What else will you accept?”

  The crowd began to buzz.

  Griffin said, “Well, let’s see. How about this? You turn over all the mortgages you’ve called in for the last, oh let’s say, two years, and I’ll consider the debt paid.”

  Reed’s jaw dropped, and so did Jessi’s. Those in town who’d lost their mortgages had been leasing their land from the Darcy bank at prices so high, the payments left them little money for much else. Some of them were also in the room, and seemed as bowled over as Reed.

  “That’s out of the question!” Reed stormed.

  “Then I want my money. Now.”

  “You can’t expect me to pay it to you right at this moment!”

  “Why not? Had I lost, you would be demanding the same.”

  He was right, and Reed and everyone else knew it.

  Jessi eyed Reed’s friends. They too were watching the tense situation unfold. Some looked genuinely displeased with this turn of events, but she couldn’t determine whether their displeasure was aimed at Reed’s handling of their stakes or at his waffling on paying the debt.

  Then she heard one of the Englishmen mutter, “I should’ve known better than to invest in a bloody coon,” and she had her answer.

  As if someone had given the foreigners a silent signal, they all began saying their good-byes.

  “Hey, wait,” Reed exclaimed, rising from his chair. “Aren’t we still meeting later?”

  “No,” one of the Englishmen replied pointedly. “It’s obvious that you’ve problems here, Darcy. My investment group will let you know what we decide later on in the week.”

  Darcy tried to charm them. “Now, hold on, you aren’t going to pull up stakes over a little poker game, are you? I can cover the amount, believe me, I can.”

  The men did not seem convinced. “We’ll be in touch. Oh, and when we do, we expect you to have all your ducks in a row.”

  And they filed out.

  Darcy dropped back into his chair like a sack of meal. One of the men who clerked in the bank made a move as if to say something, but Reed barked, “I don’t need or want your opinion. Go to the bank and get the deeds.”

  The clerk’s jaw tightened, but he did as he was told.

  When the man departed, Reed stood and said to Griffin, “I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t want to sit here and look at you until he returns. I’ll be at my hotel.”

  Without uttering another word, he forcefully pushed past the folks gathered around and left the room. Percy and his men exited right behind their boss. For a moment there was silence, and then a man in the back asked hesitantly, “What are you going to do with the deeds, Blake?”

  Griffin grinned. “Why, turn them back over to their owners, of course.”

  The room erupted with cheers. Jessi went to his side, and couldn’t remember ever being so pleased.

  Reed’s clerk returned less than an hour later and handed the deeds over to Griffin. With the glowering Percy West at his side, the clerk then announced, “Mr. Darcy wants everyone out of his saloon immediately. Any stragglers will be shot on sight for trespassing.”

  He stormed out.

  Auntie came over and shook Griffin’s hand. “Thanks, Griffin. Even though Darcy’s closing down my party, I can’t complain. The look on his face when you asked him to pay up is something I’ll take to my grave.”

  People began leaving and a grinning Neil July told Griffin, “You know, you ruined Darcy’s evening.”

  “Can’t take you anywhere,” Two Shafts kidded.

  With Jessi by his side, Griffin ignored his friends for a moment and announced to the departing crowd, “You folks can see about these deeds tomorrow at the Clayton ranch.”

  Many of those in the room paused and looked warily over at Jessi, who returned their looks without comment.

  “This ain’t over Blake,” Percy promised as the Clayton clan passed him by.

  “No, it isn’t, Percy,” Griff replied. “We’ll see you soon.”

  “What a game!” Jessi exclaimed as they stepped out into cool night air and struck out toward the buckboard. They noticed that everyone seemed to be taking Reed’s threats seriously. Folks were not tarrying.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I told you Cheno would take their drawers, Miss Jessi,” Neil declared. “He even got a deed to some old Scottish castle as part of the winnings from one of those barons.”

  “What a Black train robber’s going to do with a castle in Scotland is anyone’s guess,” Griffin cracked. He noticed Jessi’s bandaged hand for the first time. He frowned as he cradled the hand. “What happened to you?”

  “Well, Minerva was being rude, so I taught her some manners.”

  A concerned Griffin looked at the hand then up into her eyes. “You know ladies don’t brawl in the street.”

  “I think Minerva knows that now.”

  He chuckled. “Are you all right?”

  “It still throbs a bit, but Dr. Salt says it isn’t broken.”

  Two Shafts put in, “She did us proud, Cheno. Dropped Minerva like a sack of rocks. Too bad you missed it.”

  “Yes, it is. Are you ready to go home?” Griffin asked. He knew how tough she was; her hand could be aching like hell and she’d never say a word.

  “Yes. Oh by the way—” Jessi said to Griffin.

  She quickly related the details of her talk
with the drunken Roscoe Darcy, adding, “He’s says he might be willing to talk to the authorities about Reed’s hand in my father’s death.”

  “That’s good news,” Griffin told her. “Now, if we can just convince at least one more person to get on the stand and tell the truth about that night, we might just have us a cooked Reed.”

  “Poor Percy,” Neil spoke mockingly. “Looks like his time has come.”

  “Yes, it does,” his brother voiced in agreement. “Yes, it does.”

  Jessi and Griffin left the Twins to their own devices and then headed out of town.

  “Sleepy?” he asked.

  “Not really. Too much excitement, I think.”

  “Care for a ride in the moonlight?”

  “Yes, I would,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter 11

  While Griff handled the reins, Jessi linked her arm with his and rested her head lovingly against his strong shoulder. “That first night you rode up to the house, I had no idea we’d end up this way.”

  “Neither did I. You weren’t real neighborly, as I remember.”

  Her soft chuckle blended with the night. “I had a reason not to be, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I do. If I’d had Darcy on my back, l’d’ve been ornery too.”

  Her thoughts turned to her nemesis. “Do you think he’s finished now? His friends didn’t appear very pleased tonight.”

  “I think there are cracks growing in his walls even as we speak.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’m tired of fighting.”

  “Well, let’s not talk about him anymore. You’ll spoil the mood.”

  Jessi smiled. “Okay, what shall we talk about?” Then it came to her. “I know. Let’s stop for a moment before we go home.”

  “Where?”

  Jessi gave him directions to a spot on Clayton land that had a large stand of trees. “I’ve something to show you.”

  He drove them to the patch of trees, then stopped. “What is it?”

  She turned so that her back was to him. “Can you see well enough to undo my buttons?”