He swore a silent oath, knowing that the one thing he did want was the last thing he was likely to get.
He would never fit in her world, and she couldn’t live in his, and yet people changed. He certainly had. He would be willing to change again, for her, if she would have him.
* * * * *
They pulled into Twin Bluffs the following afternoon. There was a short layover at the depot, during which time a fresh team of horses was hitched to the coach. They also took on two new passengers. Bill Andrews went to sit topside, while the salesman who had been sitting across from Kaylynn moved to sit beside her so the new arrivals, obviously newlyweds, could sit together. They introduced themselves as Ben and Doris Whiteside.
Kaylynn offered them a tentative smile. Doris Whiteside was tall and thin. She had pale-blue eyes, and fine honey-gold hair that she wore in a tight bun at her nape. She looked like she was about sixteen. Ben Whiteside looked like he could have been her brother. He had the same pale-blue eyes, the same honey-gold hair.
Jesse looked out the window, wondering if Ravenhawk was in town. It didn’t sit well with him, that his bounty had gotten away. In the last seven years, he had brought in every man he’d gone after. He glanced back at the livery as the driver stowed the newlyweds’ baggage in the boot, wondering if old Ron Hays was still running the stable. It had been awhile since he’d seen the old man. Hays was one of the few men Jesse considered as a friend.
Kaylynn shifted on the seat beside him as the coach lurched forward, drawing his mind back to matters at hand. The most important thing to him now was taking Kaylynn back home, where she belonged, making sure she was happy.
His gaze moved over her. When had he fallen in love with her? How had she come to mean so much in such a short time?
She looked up, a shy smile curving her lips as her gaze met his.
He hadn’t been afraid of much in his life, but he was suddenly afraid of her, afraid of the power she had over him, a power she didn’t even realize she held. A word, a gesture, and she could destroy him.
She rocked against him as the coach went over a deep rut in the road. Instinctively, he put his arm around her and drew her up close. And knew again that he never wanted to let her go.
For a moment, nothing else in the world existed but the two of them. He forgot about the newlywed couple who were staring adoringly into each other’s eyes, forgot about the other two men inside the coach.
Hungry for the touch of her, the taste of her, he lowered his head and kissed her lightly, hardly more than the brush of his lips over hers, yet he felt the spark ignite deep within him, knew, by her sudden intake of her breath, that she had felt it, too.
When he drew back, he felt as if his heart would break. She was a wild rose among thistles, a delicate flower like those that grew wild on the prairie. He had no right to pluck that flower and make it his own, no right at all. Looking into her eyes, he saw his dreams, his vision of a future that could never be, and though pain gripped his heart, he knew he loved her too much to ask her to stay.
“Are you newlyweds, too?”
“What?” Jesse looked at the woman across from him.
“I asked if you were newlyweds, too.”
Jesse glanced at Kaylynn. She was staring down at her gloved hands. Her cheeks were bright red.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Engaged?”
He swore softly, wishing the woman would mind her own business. “Not yet.” It was a lie, but it was the only thing he could think of to salvage Kaylynn’s reputation.
“You look good together,” Doris remarked, then turned her attention back to her husband.
Jesse started to lift his arm from Kaylynn’s shoulder, but she placed her hand over his, holding it in place.
She looked up at him, cheeks still pink. “The road’s so rough, I’m afraid if you let go, I’ll slip off the seat.”
It was a lie and they both knew it. But it gave him all the excuse he needed to keep holding her.
* * * * *
Jesse blew out a sigh. It was late afternoon. They had been traveling almost nonstop for the last three hours, and everyone else inside the coach had fallen asleep.
He glanced down at Kaylynn, a surge of tenderness rising within him. What had he done to make her trust him so? He thought of the poetry she had recited to him, and wondered what had ever possessed her to do such a thing.
Walk with me, Spirit’s Song, and sing to me gently in the night of your love…
If anyone else had said something like that to him, he would have laughed. His gaze moved over Kaylynn’s hair, as thick and red as a vixen’s winter coat, and he knew, in that moment, that Kaylynn was the answer to his vision. Mao’hoohe. Red Fox.
Before he could ponder it further, he heard a shout from the stagecoach driver, followed by several gunshots.
The passengers inside the coach came awake with a start.
Kaylynn jerked upright, her eyes wide. “What was that?”
“I think we’re about to be robbed.”
“Robbed!” Doris Whiteside shrieked. Sobbing hysterically, she clung to her husband, who didn’t look capable of defending himself, let alone anyone else.
John Porter drew a snub-nosed pistol from beneath his coat. The drummer huddled in the seat beside Kaylynn, his pudgy face drained of color.
Jesse slid his Colt from the holster as the stage shuddered to a stop. “Kaylynn, get down on the floor. You, too, Mrs. Whiteside.”
Wordlessly, Kaylynn did as bidden. The other woman clung to her husband, dragging him down on the floor beside her, where they huddled together like frightened puppies.
There was the staccato bark of gunfire from outside the coach. A man cried out, his voice edged with pain.
Jesse leaned forward and looked out the window. He could see five masked men armed with rifles. One of them had his weapon aimed upward, apparently at the driver.
Jesse glanced at the man sitting across from him. Wary of putting the women in danger, neither of them had risked shooting at the bandits.
“How many?” Jesse asked, his voice low.
“Two on this side,” Porter replied.
Jesse glanced outside again.
The man covering the driver shouted, “Throw down your weapons and no one will get hurt. You people in the coach, keep your heads inside.”
The driver tossed his pistol to the ground; Jesse assumed the guard had surrendered his shotgun.
“Throw down the strongbox.”
The box landed with a dull thud. Painted a dark green, made of Ponderosa pine, oak and iron, Jesse knew the box weighed about a hundred pounds. He shook his head. Nothing was quite as irresistible to outlaws as a Wells Fargo treasure box. They were invariably filled with gold dust, gold bars or payrolls.
Two of the bandits dismounted. One of them shot the lock, and then they began passing bags of money to their companions.
The box was nearly empty when there was a gunshot from the top side of the coach and a sharp cry of pain, quickly followed by a second gunshot. Kaylynn gasped as Bill Andrews’ body toppled over the side of the coach.
“Kill ’em all!” The cry came from one of the bandits.
“Like hell!” Jesse muttered as he drew his gun and fired at the nearest outlaw. He swore as a man mounted on a flashy Appaloosa rode into view. Ravenhawk!
Jesse swore again as he fired at the man and missed.
For a moment, their eyes met, and then Ravenhawk rode out of sight.
Jesse fired again, grunted with satisfaction as one of the outlaws tumbled from the saddle.
John Porter thrust his pistol into the drummer’s hand. “Defend yourself!” he said, and reaching under his seat, he withdrew a rifle and began firing out the window.
The sound of gunfire and the stench of gun smoke filled the air.
One of the outlaws hollered, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Jesse threw himself across Kaylynn as a hail of gunfire exploded into the
coach. Pieces of cloth and splinters of wood rained down on them, covering Jesse with a layer of debris. Jesse felt the drummer’s foot jerk spasmodically, but his only concern was for Kaylynn, and he knew he would die before he let anything happen to her.
There were more gunshots and then an abrupt silence.
Jesse waited a moment; then, rising to his knees, he risked a look outside. The outlaws had fled. He caught a glimpse of the last rider, slumped over his horse’s neck, heading north, toward the river.
Inside the coach, the drummer was sprawled across the seat. Blood trickled from a neat hole in his left temple. John Porter was cradling his shoulder.
His gaze moved over Kaylynn. “Are you all right?”
She looked up at him, her face pale, her dress badly rumpled, her hat askew, the delicate black feather bent at an odd angle.
“Never again,” she said, her voice low and shaky. “I’m never riding on a stagecoach again.”
She had been through hell and she was making jokes. He could have kissed her.
“What about you?” Jesse said, looking over at Porter. “How bad are you hit?”
“I’m all right. Just nicked me.”
Jesse holstered his Colt, then opened the door to the coach and stepped outside. Turning, he offered Kaylynn his hand and helped her out. A faint dust cloud hung in the air.
The newlywed couple scrambled out of the coach behind Kaylynn. John Porter descended more slowly.
Jesse knelt beside the driver and the shotgun guard. Both were dead, as was the man who had been riding on top of the coach. One of the hold-up men was dead, a second one lay in the dirt. Blood poured from a wound in his chest. Jesse doubted if he’d live much longer.
Jesse glanced in the direction the robbers had gone. If he hurried, he might be able to catch them.
With that thought in mind, he moved toward the back of the coach.
Kaylynn followed him. She frowned as he checked the saddle cinch on the roan, then slipped a bridle on over the halter. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going after them.”
“No.”
“Ravenhawk was with ’em.”
“Ravenhawk!” she exclaimed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You might want to bandage him up,” Jesse said, nodding at John Porter, who stood near the coach, clutching his shoulder.
“Please don’t go.”
“I’ve got to.” Jesse glanced at the other passengers. “There’s plenty of water onboard. Just sit tight ’til I get back.”
“What if you don’t come back?” John Porter asked.
Jesse shrugged. “You can try taking the coach back to Twin Bluffs, or you can just sit tight.” He untied the roan from the back of the Concord. “When the stage doesn’t show up at the next stop, they’ll send someone looking.”
“Jesse. Don’t go.”
“I have to.” He kissed her, hard and quick, then swung aboard the roan and rode after the bandits.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The outlaws’ trail was easy to follow. Five horses headed north, moving fast. He recognized the tracks of Ravenhawk’s big Appaloosa gelding among them.
He hadn’t gone more than a mile or so when he found one of the bandits lying facedown across the road. The man’s horse stood a few feet away, grazing on a patch of short grass.
Reining his horse to a stop, Jesse dismounted, one hand resting on his gun butt as his gaze swept the surrounding area. There was no cover here, and little chance of an ambush, but years of bounty hunting had taught him to be cautious.
He approached the outlaw warily, prodded him in the side with the toe of his boot.
The man groaned softly.
Reaching down, Jesse plucked the man’s Colt from his holster and shoved it into the waistband of his pants, then rolled the man over.
Jesse grunted softly. The outlaw was just a kid, probably not more than sixteen years old.
“Got any water?” the kid asked.
“Sure, in a minute. How bad are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. Feels like I’m…I’m dyin’.”
Jesse lifted the boy’s shirt, then shook his head.
The boy lifted his head, trying to see.
“Don’t look,” Jesse said. He dropped the boy’s shirt back in place.
“Is it bad?”
“Real bad. I doubt you’ll last more than an hour or two. You got any kin that needs to be notified?”
“Sister in Kansas City.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rosemary Clemens.”
“And your name?”
“Jimmy Claudill.”
Jesse grunted softly. Unless he was mistaken, there was a three hundred dollar bounty on Claudill’s head.
“Give me some water.”
“Not a good idea. Water now will just speed things up. Where are the rest headed?”
The kid shook his head. “Go to hell.”
Young and stupid and scared, Jesse thought. “Tell me where they’re going, and I’ll see you get a decent burial.”
“No.” The kid licked his lips. “Dammit, gimme some water.”
With a nod, Jesse went to get the canteen from his saddle. Returning to the wounded man, he hunkered down on his heels beside him and shook the canteen. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“Bastard.”
Jesse shrugged. “Your friends left you here to die. I don’t know why you feel you owe them any loyalty.”
Claudill laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “You’re right. They’re headed for Mazza’s place.”
Jesse grunted softly. Victor Mazza was a cold-blooded killer. “Where’s that?”
“Outside Twin Bluffs. Mazza and his brother have a spread in a box canyon about twenty miles out of town.”
“How long will they be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who’s ramrodding the gang?”
“Victor Mazza.”
Jesse filed the name away as he uncorked the canteen, lifted the man’s head and let him drink. “That’s enough. Come on, let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“I’m taking you back to town.” If what Claudill said was true, then the bandits would be holed up for a few days. He could see Kaylynn safely back to town, claim the reward for Claudill, then alert the sheriff as to the whereabouts of the Mazza gang after explaining that Ravenhawk belonged to him.
“I thought you said I was dying?”
“I lied. That bullet just nicked a rib. You’ll be all right in a day or two.” Rising, Jesse grabbed Claudill by the arm and pulled him to his feet.
“You really are a bastard.”
Jesse chuckled softly as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his saddlebags and cuffed the kid’s hands together. “So I’ve been told. Let’s go.”
* * * * *
Kaylynn sat in the scant shade offered by a windblown pine. Earlier, she had bandaged John Porter’s arm. As he had said, it wasn’t a bad wound, just a shallow furrow along his shoulder.
Doris Whiteside sat beside her, her hands clasped in her lap. Earlier, with much sweating and straining and more than a little swearing, Ben Whiteside and John Porter had secured the bodies of the driver, the shotgun guard and the two dead outlaws on top of the coach. Now Whiteside and Porter stood a few feet away, trying to decide whether they should attempt to drive the coach back to Twin Bluffs or wait for help from the station at Logansville.
Kaylynn hoped they decided to wait for help. Neither Porter nor Whiteside had any experience driving a six-horse team. Of the two, Kaylynn thought that, even with his injured arm, Porter was the better man for the job. Ben Whiteside had all the self-confidence of a turnip.
Porter glanced up at the sun. “Well, we need to make a decision. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours.”
“I think we should go,” Ben Whiteside said. “I don’t like the idea of spending the night out here.”
“Me, either,” Doris agreed.
“All right then, let’s go.”
Kaylynn glanced in the direction Jesse had gone. Was he all right? Had he found the outlaws? Would she ever see him again?
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he was riding toward her, a second horse and rider in tow.
Kaylynn stood up, relief at seeing Jesse alive and well sweeping through her.
“Did you find them?” Porter asked.
“No, but I know where they’re headed.” His gaze swept the area. “What did you do with the bodies?”
“Up there,” Porter said, jerking a thumb toward the roof of the coach.
Jesse nodded. Dismounting, he fixed his prisoner with a hard stare. “Step down.”
With a grimace, Jimmy Claudill slid from the saddle.
Kaylynn laid her hand on Jesse’s arm. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. You?”
“Fine, now.” Now that you’re here, she thought.
“We’re going back to Twin Bluffs,” Jesse said. Pulling the halter and lead rope from his saddlebags, he removed the bridle from the roan, slipped the halter in place and tethered the mare to the rear of the coach. He dropped a rope over Claudill’s horse and tied her to the coach beside the roan.
“All right,” Jesse said. “Everybody inside. Porter, keep an eye on the kid, will ya?”
“Sure.”
“Jesse, do you know how to drive a stagecoach?” Kaylynn asked.
“Sure.”
“Really?” she asked dubiously.
“Would I lie to you?”
“I don’t know,” she replied tartly. “Would you?”
“I’d never lie to you, Kay,” Jesse said quietly. “Believe that if you believe nothing else.”
“I do. Would you mind if I rode up front, with you?”
“No, I don’t mind.” He smiled at her. “Be glad for the company.”
He held her gaze a moment more, then walked toward the coach window and looked inside. “Everybody settled?”
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