Spirit's Song

by Madeline Baker

  Leaning back against the wall, he slid his arm around Kaylynn’s shoulders and drew her up against him. She snuggled against him, her head resting against his chest, one of her legs pressed close to his. He could feel the warmth of her breast, the length of her leg through the blankets, smell the faint lingering fragrance of the soap she had bathed with.

  “Kay…”

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and longing, and he felt something stir deep inside him, felt a crack in the wall he had hidden behind since he lost Abigail all those years ago.

  “I love you, Jesse.”

  “Don’t. I’m no good for you.”

  “You’re perfect for me.”

  When she looked at him like that, eyes shining with hope and love, he could almost believe it.

  “You’re not going to leave Ravenhawk in jail are you?”

  “Still worrying about him?” Jesse asked, unable to keep the edge of jealousy out of his tone.

  “He saved our lives.”

  “Did he?”

  “You know he did. He kept Mazza busy so I could hit him over the head.”

  “He wants you.”

  “I can’t help that.”

  “No, I guess not,” Jesse allowed. He kissed the top of her head. “I guess every man who sees you wants you.”

  She tilted her head back so she could see him better. “But I only want you.”

  Jesse blew out a deep breath. “What about your husband?”

  “I’m never going back to him! Never. I’m going to sue for a bill of divorcement when I get home.”

  “And what if he won’t give it to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come away with me, Kay. We’ll go away somewhere, make a life for ourselves.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, sighing, “but I have to go home. I want to see my parents again. I want to divorce Alan so you and I can be married…”

  Her voice trailed off and a rush of heat pinked her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You never…I mean…”

  “Kaylynn.”

  “It’s all right.” She looked away, embarrassed. He had never mentioned marriage. Just because he had made love to her didn’t mean he wanted to marry her, spend his life with her.

  “Kay.” He cupped her chin in one hand and lifted her face toward his. “I’d marry you now if I could. You know that, don’t you?”

  She looked up at him, the memory of the night they had spent making love burning bright in her memory. Her mother had always said that intimacy wasn’t the same for a woman and a man, that when a woman gave her body to a man, she gave him her heart and soul as well, but that wasn’t always true for men, that they were often ruled by lust.

  “Kay, I never meant to shame you,” Jesse said. “Or hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I think maybe I did.”

  “No, Jesse. It was wonderful.”

  He held her tighter. “All right, Kay, I’ll take you home.”

  “Jesse?” She slid her fingertips over his chest, ran her hand over the muscle in his arm. “If Alan won’t give me a divorce, I’ll go away with you. Anywhere you want.”

  “Kay!” Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her with all the love and hope in his heart and knew that, even though he would never be worthy of her, he would never willingly let her go.

  * * * * *

  Kay snuggled deeper under the covers. She had been having the most wonderful dream and she didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want to face reality. She had been having the most wonderful dream about Jesse, and in her dream she had composed a poem. Eyes tightly shut, she tried to remember the words.

  “In the quiet of the night…” she began.

  “When in dreams my spirit wanders…

  his soul finds mine…and together we go walking.

  Hand in hand we walk…hearts and souls ever touching…

  I tell him the words I cannot say…when we meet in the light of day.

  We walk through flowered meadows…and pause by starlit streams…

  and our bodies come together…but only in my dreams.”

  That wasn’t true anymore, she mused, remembering the day by the lake when Jesse had kissed her. She had read him a poem that day; now she was composing one. The thought made her giggle.

  “And so I hurry through each day…and long for sleep’s embrace…

  when again our souls can touch…and I can see his face;

  And taste his sweet lips on mine…as our souls become entwined…

  and know that here, in dreams at least…he always will be mine.”

  He always will be mine. The thought made her smile.

  “Kay?”

  “Jesse!” Her eyes flew open and she stared up at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough, sleepyhead.” He grinned at her as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you always recite poetry first thing in the morning?”

  “Not always.” In spite of her embarrassment, she felt a thrill of excitement stir in the depths of her being as she gazed up at him. She noticed he was dressed, his gunbelt in place. The beginnings of a beard shaded his jaw, giving him a faintly roguish look.

  “Hi,” she said again, and slipping her hands around his neck, she drew his head down and kissed him.

  They hadn’t made love last night, though they had slept in each other’s arms. She knew somehow that he would not make love to her again until they were married, or until they knew for a certainty that Alan would not give her a divorce.

  Joy swelled within her as his mouth closed over hers. She loved him, she thought, loved him with every breath in her body, every beat of her heart.

  “I liked the poem.” Leaning down, he feathered kisses along her throat. “Is it from that book you told me about?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “I just…” She shrugged. “I just made it up.”

  “Oh?” He looked at her, one brow arched. “And what inspired you to write poetry first thing in the morning?”

  She stared up at him, mute, her cheeks redder than Georgia clay. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was thinking.

  “I think you’d better get dressed,” Jesse said, his voice husky, all his good intentions of the night before weakening.

  “I think you’re right.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

  She nodded, saddened because they weren’t going to make love, touched by his willingness to wait, by his understanding of her feelings.

  He kissed her once more, quickly, and then left the room.

  * * * * *

  Hank Frey was hunched over his desk, sorting through a pile of papers, when Jesse entered his office.

  Frey glanced up. “Be right with you.”

  There was a bulletin board on one wall. Crossing the floor, Jesse thumbed through the wanted posters. He grunted softly when he saw that Phil Barnett had escaped from jail. The man was as slippery as an eel and just as hard to hang on to. Well, some other hunter could go after him this time, Jesse mused. He was through chasing outlaws.

  “You’ll need to sign these forms,” Frey said. He pushed a stack of papers across the desk. “The Mazza brothers were worth five hundred each. Three hundred for Claudill. Four hundred for Nash. Polk and Talbot were each worth two hundred. That brings the total to two thousand, one hundred dollars.”

  Jesse whistled softly. He hadn’t expected it to come to that much.

  Going to the desk, he dipped a pen in the inkwell and signed his name where the sheriff indicated.

  Frey nodded as Jesse signed the last paper. “That should do it.” Opening his desk drawer, he withdrew a small money bag and handed it to Jesse. “I’ll need you to count it and sign for it.”

  Jesse quickly did as bidden. Twenty-one hundred dollars. He signed the receipt, and then signed another paper for Ravenhawk’s release.

  “I guess that’s everything,”
Frey said. “I’ll get your prisoner.”

  “Obliged.”

  Jesse pulled a set of handcuffs out of his back pocket as Ravenhawk emerged from the cellblock, followed by the lawman. Keeping his face impassive, he handcuffed Ravenhawk.

  “Well, good luck to you,” Frey said.

  “Thanks. Obliged for all your help.”

  “No problem.”

  Frey and Jesse shook hands, then Jesse ushered Ravenhawk out of the jail and across the street to where Kaylynn was waiting for them. The rain had stopped during the night and the sky was a bright, clear blue.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him I was involved in that bank robbery in Silverton while you were at it,” Ravenhawk muttered angrily.

  “I thought about it,” Jesse retorted, “but we made a deal.”

  “Yeah, we had a deal all right. I kept my end. You broke yours when you had me arrested.”

  “And just what did you expect me to do? Frey was involved in the raid on Mazza’s place, remember? He could have recognized you at any moment. I took the heat off you by telling him you were wanted for something else. I saved your hide! I kept my end of the deal.”

  Ravenhawk regarded Yellow Thunder a moment, wondering if he could believe the bounty hunter. After all, Yellow Thunder had believed him not long ago. “So, what now?”

  “We’re leaving town,” Jesse replied. “The stage is leaving in about ten minutes.”

  “Where’s my horse? I’m not leaving him behind.”

  “I asked Hays to hitch ’em to the coach.”

  Kaylynn smiled at the two men as they approached. “Everything all right?”

  “Fine.” Jesse picked up his saddlebags and Kaylynn’s carpetbag. “Let’s go.”

  “How about taking these damned cuffs off me?” Ravenhawk asked as they crossed the muddy street toward the stage depot. “This is damned embarrassing.”

  “Later,” Jesse said.

  When they reached the station, Jesse went to check on his roan and Ravenhawk’s Appaloosa, which were tethered behind the coach. Tossing his saddlebags and Kaylynn’s satchel into the rear boot, he nodded at the driver as he rounded the coach.

  It was with a great deal of reluctance that Kaylynn climbed inside the Concord after Ravenhawk.

  “I said I wouldn’t do this again,” she muttered as she sat down and settled her skirts around her.

  “Third time’s a charm,” Jesse said as he took his place beside her.

  The coach was about to leave when John Porter climbed inside.

  “Morning, folks,” he said. He smiled at Kaylynn. “Hope this trip won’t be as exciting as the last one.”

  The driver poked his head inside the open doorway. “Everybody all set in there? Good.”

  A moment later the coach lurched forward.

  “How are you, Mr. Porter?” Kaylynn asked.

  “Fine, fine.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Doc says I’ll be good as new in a week or two.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Porter nodded. “Where are you folks traveling to?”

  “New York City,” Kaylynn replied.

  “Business?”

  “No, I’m going to see my parents.”

  “So, Porter, where are you headed?” Jesse asked.

  “New York,” Porter said. “Business for me, I’m afraid.”

  Jesse regarded Porter thoughtfully, a niggling suspicion forming in the back of his mind. Porter met his gaze squarely, then settled into a corner of the seat and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he was snoring softly.

  Ravenhawk glared at Jesse. “Turn me loose, dammit,” he hissed.

  “Shut up,” Jesse replied quietly. “You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in jail where you belong.”

  “Quit it, both of you,” Kaylynn said. “Honestly, you two squabble worse than a couple of kids.”

  “Yeah, well, we had a deal,” Ravenhawk said crossly. “I kept my part of the bargain. I’m still waiting for him to keep his.”

  “A deal?” Kaylynn asked. “What kind of deal?”

  Ravenhawk glanced at Porter, who was still snoring. “I told Jesse I’d help him get you away from Mazza if he’d let me go afterward. And he agreed.”

  Kaylynn looked at Jesse. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why is he handcuffed?”

  Jesse grinned. “I figured it was the best way to make sure he kept his hands off of you.”

  Kaylynn blushed. “Jesse, really.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Really.”

  “What’s the matter, bounty hunter? Afraid I’ll steal her from you?”

  “I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you,” Jesse said mildly, “unless I wanted to find myself in jail in the next town.”

  Ravenhawk started to speak, then, apparently deciding he had pushed Yellow Thunder as far as he dared, he settled back in his seat, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  The trip to the next town passed uneventfully, for which Kaylynn was heartily grateful. Ravenhawk was morosely silent. Jesse stared out the window, his face impassive. She wondered what he was thinking, but something warned her not to ask.

  Upon waking from his nap, John Porter had tried to engage Jesse in conversation and when that failed, he pulled a penny dreadful from his coat pocket and spent the rest of the time reading about the adventures of Kid Curry.

  It was near dark when they reached Acworth Corners. The driver told them there would be a thirty minute layover while they changed horses and picked up passengers.

  Porter asked the driver if he knew if the telegraph office was still open and was told he might make it, if he hurried.

  Porter offered the man his thanks, tipped his hat at Kaylynn and hurried across the street.

  Jesse waited by the coach until a man came by to unhook the team. “Look after my horse, will ya?” Jesse asked. “See that she gets some grain and a rubdown.”

  “Sure,” the man said agreeably. “What about the other one?”

  “I’ll be leaving the Appaloosa here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With the roan’s comfort taken care of, Jesse turned his attention to Ravenhawk. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Just come with me. Kaylynn, go on over to the hotel and order us something to eat.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Just do as I said. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  With a sigh of exasperation, she flounced across the street.

  “Now what?” Ravenhawk asked.

  “Let’s go.” Jesse took up the Appaloosa’s lead rope and started walking toward the end of town. “I’m turning you loose. I’m warning you for the last time to stay out of my way.”

  Ravenhawk grunted softly, but said nothing. When they reached the end of town, Jesse stepped behind the last building, dug the handcuff key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuffs.

  Ravenhawk rubbed his wrists, a wary expression on his face.

  “Here.” Jesse handed Ravenhawk a buckskin bag. “That’s half the reward money.” He thrust the Appaloosa’s reins into Ravenhawk’s hand. “Now get the hell out of here.”

  “What about my gun?”

  Casually, Jesse tossed Ravenhawk his gun.

  Feeling the lightness of the weapon in his hand, Ravenhawk spun the cylinder with his thumb and noted that each chamber was empty. He looked at Yellow Thunder, a faint smile curving his lips.

  “I may be stupid,” Jesse drawled, “but I’m not crazy enough to put a loaded gun in your hand.”

  With a nod, Ravenhawk swung onto the Appaloosa’s back. “We’ve had our differences, bounty hunter,” he said as he turned the Appaloosa toward the north, “but you’ll do to ride the river with.”

  Jesse stood there until Ravenhawk was out of sight. “So will you,” he muttered as he turned back toward town. “So will you.”

  Kaylynn watched Jesse enter the dining room, her expression worried as he cros
sed the floor and sat down across from her.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. What did you order?”

  “Steak. What happened?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing? Where’s Ravenhawk? You didn’t take him to jail?”

  “No.”

  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

  “I let him go. Now can we drop the subject?”

  “Jesse, honestly, you make me so mad sometimes.”

  “Do I?”

  “Why are you so jealous of him?”

  It was a good question. He only wished he had a good answer. When he put his reasons into words, they sounded ridiculous. Ravenhawk was young. He was charming. He was handsome, with his dark eyes and unscarred face. But the real reason for his jealousy was the fact that Kaylynn worried about Ravenhawk far too much, and that drove Jesse wild. He didn’t want her thinking of any man but him, wanting any man but him.

  “Jesse, there’s no reason for you to be jealous. You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. He did know, but he couldn’t help it.

  Their meal arrived a few moments later and they ate quickly, knowing the stage wouldn’t wait on them.

  John Porter was already in the coach when they climbed inside.

  Jesse pulled a blanket from beneath the seat and spread it over Kaylynn, then slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Where’s your prisoner?” Porter asked, frowning.

  “I dropped him off here,” Jesse replied smoothly.

  “I see.”

  From outside, the driver yelled, “All aboard!”

  Moments later, they were on their way.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  William Duvall shuffled the papers on his desk, then, with a sweep of his hand, he wiped the desk clean. How could he be expected to concentrate on business when his daughter, his only child, had been missing for almost a year?

  He swore, long and loud, unable to believe that Alan Summers had never bothered to get in touch with them, never thought it important enough to let them know she was missing.

  William had been concerned for some time, wondering why Kaylynn’s letters had stopped. He had made excuses for her. She was busy getting settled into a new house, busy exploring an exciting new city, making new friends. Alan was a prominent man in San Francisco. There would be parties and dinners.