8. Forbidden topics of discussion are stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings.
9. Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It’s a long walk back. A word to the wise is sufficient.
She read number seven again, shuddering at the part about being at the mercy of hostile Indians. She had survived one attack. Surely Fate would not subject her to another.
Jesse turned away from the counter and slipped their tickets into his back pocket. “So, would you like to take a walk?” he asked.
“A walk?” Kaylynn looked around. “Where to?”
“We’ve got some time to kill before the stage leaves. There’s a pretty little lake not far from here.”
“All right.”
He took her hand, surprised that she didn’t object. It made him feel suddenly young and carefree, to be walking hand in hand with a pretty girl.
“What will you do with your horse while we’re gone?” Kaylynn asked as they left the depot.
“Take her with me.”
“Oh?”
Jesse nodded. “I’ll tie her to the back of the coach. It’s done all the time.”
Away from the town, there was only green grass and blue sky.
Kaylynn was acutely aware of the man walking beside her, of his large calloused hand holding hers. His nearness filled her with an odd excitement. Her every nerve seemed to be humming, her skin felt extraordinarily sensitive.
Walking on, they neared a stand of slender willows. Beyond the trees was a small blue pool surrounded by a carpet of grass. Sunlight danced on the quiet surface of the water, sparkling like diamonds tossed by a careless hand. She smiled as a fish jumped, its tiny silver body glistening wetly.
Jesse sat down on a log, and after a moment, she sat beside him, her insides trembling, her heart pounding.
Silence stretched between them. It made her nervous. She glanced at him, then looked away. What was he thinking?
“It is pretty here,” she remarked, unable to endure the silence any longer. Her voice sounded loud in her ears.
“Yeah. Peaceful.”
Kaylynn nodded. Being a bounty hunter, she thought it unlikely that he had known much peace in his life. She studied him from the corner of her eye. His profile was sharp and clean. He really was a handsome man. She hardly even noticed the scar on his cheek anymore.
An odd sensation uncurled within her stomach, like a rosebud opening its petals to the light of the sun. She had a sudden urge to touch his cheek, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her hand, to make him smile.
Abruptly, he turned to face her. “What?”
She blinked at him, startled by his curt tone.
Jesse dragged a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry.”
Kaylynn smiled tentatively. “I wasn’t staring, really.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“Are you?”
“I thought I was.”
“Do you like poetry?”
He lifted one brow. “Poetry?” He laughed softly. “Do I look like a man who reads poetry?”
He grinned as her cheeks turned a rosy shade of red.
“I guess not.”
“Why’d you ask?”
“Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“This place.” She made a gesture that encompassed the lake and the grass. “It reminded me of a poem, that’s all.”
“How does it go, that poem?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Sure you do.”
“Well…” She chewed the inside of her lip a moment, wishing she had never mentioned it. It was a love poem from a book titled Poems and Sonnets to Win a Lady’s Heart.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
She looked away, her gaze settling on the lake.
“Walk with me, Spirit’s Song, and sing gently to me in the night of your love.
Tell me of grasses sweet and lying in the sun together.
Tell me of moonlight and starlight somehow joined as one,
forming an endless blanket of light for our roof.
And then, my lady fair, tell me that it will never end.”
“That was pretty,” Jesse said. “Real pretty.”
Kaylynn nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
“Do you know any more?”
“Part of one.”
“Recite it for me.”
“When the morning awakes you, listen as my voice softly calls, beckoning you to arise to new wonders.
Listen for my footsteps as I arrive with the dawn.
I will not delay my coming to you.
Warm yourself in my memory.
With each breath of the day, I whisper your name on the wind.
I will be there. As the sun shines, and the birds sing, my love will prevail.”
Hesitant, she turned and met his gaze, felt a rush of heat engulf her as his gaze met hers.
“Kaylynn…”
“I…it’s just…” She stared at him, mesmerized, her body yearning toward him, her heart thundering in her ears as she waited. Waited, hoping and afraid.
“Kaylynn.”
“We should go back.” She spoke quickly, afraid of the feelings rioting within her, afraid of being hurt, of being rejected, ridiculed, found wanting. She was afraid he would reach for her, kiss her. Afraid he wouldn’t.
Slowly, so as not to frighten her, Jesse took her hand in his hand. “Kaylynn, don’t run away from me. I won’t hurt you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Jesse, I…”
“What is it? You can tell me.”
She shook her head, knowing she could never put her feelings, her fears, into words.
“Touch me,” Jesse said, his voice whisper-soft. “I need to feel your touch. Just once.”
She looked into his eyes and knew she couldn’t refuse his request, or deny the urgings of her own heart. Gently, she caressed his right cheek, her fingertips trailing down his neck, over his shoulder, down his arm.
A sigh escaped Jesse’s lips and then, unable to resist, he bent his head and kissed her.
For a moment, their gazes met and then, with a sigh, Kaylynn closed her eyes, the wonder of his touch swallowing her fear.
It was a moment steeped in magic and sunlight. The rest of the world fell away and she felt herself being reborn in Jesse Yellow Thunder’s arms. She felt his spirit touching hers, felt his need, his loneliness, and she knew, in the deepest part of her being, that this man would never hurt her, never belittle her, never make her feel worthless. He would live for her and die for her.
“Kay.” He drew back a little, his voice was ragged, his eyes filled with the same wonder she knew must be reflected in her own.
She smiled tentatively, her heart filled to overflowing.
“You felt it, too?”
He nodded, his mind echoing the words she had spoken earlier. Walk with me, Spirit’s Song, and sing to me gently in the night of your love… He could hear her heart singing in his soul, the soft, sweet notes lighting corners long dark, healing old hurts, old wounds.
Unable to put his feelings into words as eloquent as the poetry she had recited, he drew her into his arms and kissed her again, hoping she would hear the words he could not say, be warmed by the love he was incapable of speaking aloud.
Kaylynn sighed as she put her arms went around him, her spirit soaring like the red-tailed hawks that glided over the Black Hills as Jesse held her close. It filled her with a sense of wonder she had never known before to think that this man, this strong, beautiful man, needed her. Wanted her.
They sat there for a long, quiet time. Jesse held her close, knowing that, in the last few moments, the entire course of his life had been changed.
Kaylynn rested her cheek on Jesse’s shoulder. If only she could stay here, locked forever in his arms. Wrapped within the safe haven of Jesse’s embrace, she knew she need never fear anything, or anyone, again. Nothing could hurt her now. Not Alan. Not any
one.
She closed her eyes as Jesse stroked her hair, his touch gentle, tender. How wonderful it was, to feel so safe, to know the touch of a man’s hand, not in anger or violence, but in a soft expression of caring. For he must care. Surely he would not kiss her so tenderly, hold her so sweetly, if he didn’t feel some degree of affection for her.
And what, she wondered, did she feel for him? Was it only gratitude because he had agreed to take her home, or was it the first gentle stirring of something deeper, richer, more lasting?
She had thought herself in love with Alan. What if she was wrong again?
She felt Jesse’s lips move in her hair, felt his hands roam lightly up and down her back. His touch, light yet sensual, made her shiver with delight.
“Kay?”
“Hmm?” She smiled at him. No one else had ever called her Kay. She rather liked it.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel?”
“No.” She snuggled a little closer. “I like it here.”
Jesse glanced up at the sun. They still had a couple hours until it was time for the stage to pull out.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, not meeting his gaze.
“I reckon you can ask me anything.”
“You won’t get mad?”
“No.”
“How did you get that scar on your face?”
He drew in a breath, his arm tightening around her waist.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s all right.”
In a voice devoid of emotion, he told her about Abigail, about the night they had planned to run away, and how her father had caught them. He told the story as though it had happened to someone else, but she heard the underlying pain in his voice, the sense of helplessness and loss.
“And you never found her?”
Jesse shook his head. “No.” He shrugged. “I guess I never will.”
“I’m sorry,” Kaylynn said, and knew it for the lie it was. If Jesse had found his Abigail, he wouldn’t be here, with her, now.
“It was a long time ago. I’m no longer the man she fell in love with.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t matter,” Kaylynn replied. “Not if she loved you.”
Jesse laughed softly, bitterly. “I’m sure it would.” The boy Abigail had loved had died that night, and there was no going back. Even had he wanted to, there was no way to turn the clock back, no way to erase the bitter memories, or wash the blood from his hands.
“Jesse.” His name was a whisper on her lips as she reached out to caress his scarred cheek.
“Don’t.” He caught her hand before she could touch him, imprisoning it tightly in his.
“Let me.”
He gazed deep into her eyes and then, very slowly, released her hand, his body stiffening as her fingertips traced the long, white scar that was a constant reminder of a night he would never forget. Her touch left him feeling weak, vulnerable, needy for more.
“Kay…”
Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm. And then, very lightly, he ran his tongue over her skin. Heat sizzled through her, awareness flooded through every nerve ending, making her pulse race and her heart beat fast. Excitement fluttered like butterfly wings in her stomach.
“Jesse.” She gasped his name. “Oh, Jesse.”
“It’s all right.” He wrapped her in his arms again, holding her close, closer. He had promised to take her home, he thought, and wondered how he would ever let her go.
Chapter Twenty
Alan Summers sat back in his chair, his voice deceptively low and calm, his eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you lost her?”
Amos McCarthy shuffled his feet nervously. “Yes, sir.”
Alan swore a pithy oath. His temper had grown considerably shorter as the weeks had gone by.
“What kind of men are you hiring these days, that they can’t hold on to one woman?” Alan asked disdainfully.
McCarthy felt his cheeks grow hot. “One of my men spotted Mrs. Summers in a little town called Red Creek. He was about to close in but…” McCarthy cleared his throat. “A bounty hunter by the name of Vance Sandler beat him to it.”
“I don’t want excuses,” Alan snapped. “Why didn’t your man just take her from Sandler and be done with it?”
“Well.” McCarthy ran a pudgy finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “The truth is, she got away from Sandler. I heard she left him afoot out on the plains.” McCarthy started to smile, but one look at his employer’s face changed his mind.
Alan drummed his fingers on his desktop, his anger growing.
“Where. Is. She?”
“Well, according to my last report, Mrs. Summers is now in the hands of another bounty hunter.” McCarthy pulled a small black leather-bound book from his inside coat pocket. “Name of Jesse Yellow Thunder.”
“Dammit!” Alan surged to his feet. “Where the hell is she now?”
McCarthy took an involuntary step backward. “Still with Yellow Thunder, last I heard. Two of my best men, Andrews and Porter, are in Red Creek keeping an eye on them. Yellow Thunder is sticking to Mrs. Summers like a tick on a dog. My men can’t get close to her.”
“Imbeciles!” Alan exclaimed, his voice rising. “Incompetents!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but from all we’ve learned, Jesse Yellow Thunder is a man to be reckoned with.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, sir.” McCarthy cleared his throat. “Do you want Porter to take your wife if the opportunity presents itself?”
Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Alan ran a hand through his hair. “Get out of here, McCarthy.”
“Sir?”
“Get out.”
“Shall I take my men off the case?”
Alan considered that a moment, then shook his head. “No. Stay in touch with them. Now get out.”
With a curt nod, Amos McCarthy left the room.
Alan slammed his palms down on the desktop. He didn’t know where his foolish little wife had been hiding since she ran away, but it was obvious to him that she was on her way back to New York, running back home to Daddy like a scared little girl.
Rounding the desk, he began to pace the floor. Now that he knew she was alive, he needn’t bother with McCarthy and his incompetent fools any longer. He knew where Kaylynn was headed. He would tie up the loose ends at the bank, and then take a little vacation.
Going to the window, he stared out into the night, hands clenching and unclenching as he anticipated his reunion with Kaylynn.
She would never leave him again. He would see to that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kaylynn climbed into the coach and settled her skirts around her. The stage, which was to have left at half past one, hadn’t arrived until almost three. It was a good thing the stage hadn’t left on time, she mused, or they would have missed it. Thinking of the reason why they had been late getting to the depot made her blush.
She glanced around, glad the Concord wasn’t crowded. Though designed to seat nine people, there were only three other passengers besides herself and Jesse: two dark-haired businessmen in city suits who introduced themselves as John Porter and Bill Andrews, and a rather stout traveling salesman who stammered that his name was Saul Jackson. It made her uncomfortable, being the only woman in the coach, and she sat close to Jesse, reassured by his presence. The window shades, meant to keep out sun, rain, dust and tobacco juice spit by passengers on the roof, were up. From past experience, she knew they were totally inadequate.
She wasn’t looking forward to the trip. The last one had been long and uncomfortable. Rumbling along over rutted roads, when there had been roads, stopping every twenty miles or so to change horses, stopping twice a day to eat. The food, which had usually consisted of boiled beans, salted meat, hardtack and coffee, had cost a dollar a plate, and the passengers had been given seven minutes to eat it. Sometimes dinner consisted of tough beefsteak, boiled potatoes, stewed beans and dried ap
ple pie. She didn’t know which menu was worse.
She put the memory aside, reminding herself that it would be worth it when she was home again.
She slid a glance at Jesse. Dressed all in black, he looked like the angel of death. She noticed the other men in the coach were careful not to meet his gaze. It was hard to remember that she had once been afraid of him, that she had been repulsed by the scar on his face. Looking at him now, she saw only the man she loved…
The revelation struck her like a bolt from the blue. She loved him. Acknowledging it filled her with a sense of rightness, of peace. She loved him. Oh, but it was impossible. Like it or not, she was married to another man. Not only that, but they were worlds apart. He was a man of the West, a man of violence. As much as she had enjoyed the Indian people, she was anxious to return to the East, to the myriad comforts and luxuries of civilization. Even if Jesse loved her in return, even if they could bridge the differences between his world and hers, Jesse had no home, no roots, nor had she ever heard him express a desire to settle down in one place. She didn’t think she could be happy living like a vagabond, with no place to call her own.
She pushed her doubts aside. Alan had given her a home, clothes, jewelry fit for a queen. None of it had made her happy. She looked up at Jesse, wishing they were alone so she could tell him how she felt. Would he be pleased? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he kissed every woman he met the way he had kissed her? She dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred to her.
If only they were alone, she could nestle against him and feel the strength of his arm around her, but she couldn’t snuggle up to him, not now, not with three other men in the coach.
With a sigh, she looked out the window. She was going home at last. For some reason, the thought didn’t make her as happy as it should have.
Jesse stared out the window, trying to ignore the curious stares of the other passengers. None of the men dared to meet his gaze, yet he was aware of their furtive glances, their speculation as they wondered about his scarred face. More maddening than their covert looks was the open admiration in their eyes when they looked at Kaylynn. Not that he could blame them. Dressed in the dark-green traveling suit she had bought, she looked good enough to eat. It was, he thought, the best money he had ever spent. She had promised to repay him when they reached her home in New York. As if he’d take it. Money was the last thing he wanted from her.
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