Never Love a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry said cheerily, stepping back, balancing himself with the cane. She could not believe the progress he’d made in the three weeks since they’d cut cards. They’d even taken strolls through the town, but she could always tell when he tired, for he leaned on her more heavily.

  It was the middle of the afternoon. Only a few men sat in the saloon, gawking. Kit dropped the saddlebags from his shoulder and held out his arms, tilting his head toward her. “Jessye?”

  She practically skipped across the saloon. He took her in his arms and swung her around. “You’re rich, sweetheart!”

  “So I hear.”

  He placed her smoothly on her feet. He grabbed his bags. “Let’s celebrate.”

  “Billy, bring us a bottle of whiskey and three glasses,” Harry ordered as he led the way to his table in the back.

  He pulled out a chair for her, waiting patiently as she sat. She thought she might never grow accustomed to all the courtesies he bestowed upon her since that fateful night. He’d even had a dress sewn for her as though he truly expected them to get married.

  He took his seat and wrapped his warm fingers around her cold hand. She watched as Kit opened his bag, pulled out two brown packets, and placed one in front of her, one in front of Harry.

  She worked her hand free of Harry’s and trailed her fingers over the coarse paper.

  “Five thousand,” Kit said quietly. “I won’t be offended if you feel a need to count it.”

  She shook her head and pressed her fingers to her lips. “I don’t believe it. Even after Harry got your letter, I didn’t believe it.”

  Kit looked at Harry. “Of course, yours is a bit less.”

  Jessye sat up straighter. “I said we were equal partners—”

  “I divided the money equally—”

  “Kit,” Harry snapped.

  Kit smiled. “But Harry had instructed me to take from his share whatever fifty cattle were worth and give the money to Tom and Jake. The lads were quite taken with your generosity.”

  As was Jessye. She studied Harry, wondering if she’d ever understand the man. “I thought we’d all agreed that we weren’t taking on any charity cases.”

  “The lads’ situation seemed to warrant a breaking of the rules. I thought it bad enough that they had to deliver heart-wrenching news to their mother with only a hundred dollars in their pockets.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It was not generosity that prompted my request, but fairness.”

  “You need not defend your actions,” Kit said.

  “I realize that, although I would appreciate a bit more discretion on your part in the future when I ask a favor.”

  “Ah, yes, we wouldn’t want Jessye to think you weren’t a complete scoundrel.”

  She was beginning to think he wasn’t a scoundrel at all.

  Billy set the whiskey and glasses on the table before walking away. Kit opened the bottle and liberally filled the glasses. “Harry, you were right to insist we go to the west, around Kansas. No cattle made it to Sedalia. Many cattlemen held their herds at Baxter Springs, Kansas, hoping for passage. The grass is gone and the cattle are dying. I should think the winter will finish off any that remain.”

  “A regrettable shame,” Harry murmured.

  “Some good may come of it,” Kit said. He touched Jessye’s packet. “There is a demand for the cattle. Men of influence will find a way even if it means bringing more railroads into Texas.”

  “So you’re going into railroads?” Harry asked.

  “Haven’t a clue what I want to do. I only know I no longer want to herd cattle.”

  He lifted his glass. “Allow me to propose a toast.”

  Jessye and Harry lifted their glasses.

  Kit cleared his throat. “May the value of this endeavor be measured in terms far greater than money.”

  They clinked their glasses together. Jessye’s mouth grew dry even though she sipped the whiskey. When she set down her glass, Harry took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “It already has been,” he said quietly. “Jessye and I are to be wed.”

  “Indeed,” Kit said, though neither his voice nor his eyes reflected surprise. “When is this blessed event to take place?”

  “Tomorrow,” Harry said. “We’ve only been waiting for your arrival.”

  “Sounds like another toast is in order.”

  Jessye shoved back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to see to.” She picked up the packet and pressed it against her chest. “Thank you for bringing me my money.”

  A soft chuckle and “nervous bride” floated after her as she ascended the stairs. She wasn’t a nervous bride. She planned to be an escaping bride.

  Chapter 22

  Harrison stood at the window, gazing at the night. It was the last time he would sleep alone. Tomorrow, he would take a bride. It was a thought that would have terrified him a year ago, but now it only brought him peace and contentment.

  He heard the soft rap on his door and turned. “Come in.”

  He wasn’t surprised to see Jonah Kane walk into his room. In truth, he’d expected the man to talk with him long before now.

  “About this here weddin’ you got planned for tomorrow,” Jonah began.

  Harrison held up a hand. “You need not issue any warnings or threats. I shall treat your daughter as though she were a queen.”

  Jonah rubbed his chin. “That’s gonna be kinda hard seein’ as how she ain’t gonna be here.”

  Harrison felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’s upstairs packin’ so me and her can slip away—”

  “Packing? Slip away?” He sounded like a bloody echo, but the words made no sense.

  “Yep, seems she don’t cotton to the idea of marryin’ you.”

  “Whether she cottons to it or not, we had a wager.” Using his cane for support, he limped across the room.

  “She’s kinda hardheaded once she gets her mind set on somethin’.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Harrison grumbled.

  He heard Jonah shuffling after him.

  “She kept tellin’ me you was a scoundrel, but I never could see it.”

  Harrison came to an abrupt halt and spun around. Jonah staggered back. “Then will you be so kind as to let me go see if I can persuade her otherwise?”

  Jonah held up his hands. “Have at it.”

  Have at it? God, how long had she been planning to abandon him? She’d been pleasant, taken strolls with him. Had it all been a farce?

  She was always there for him, even when she was angry. Had he mistaken obligation for love?

  He reached the stairs, gripped the banister, and gazed up. He knew the pain of taking one step off the boardwalk, the agony of stepping onto it.

  He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and started up.

  Jessye placed the last of her clothing in the bag. There were things in Harry’s room that she wished she could take with her, but she wanted, needed, her next encounter with him to be brief.

  The door burst open and slammed against the wall. Jessye jumped back, her heart lodged in her throat. Harry stood within the portal, looking very much like a demon risen up from hell.

  “What’s this I hear about you slinking away in the dead of night?” he growled.

  She cursed her father, the traitor. “I wasn’t gonna slink away.”

  He stepped into the room, staggered, caught his balance, stumbled to the nearest chair, and dropped into it. His cane clattered to the floor as he gripped the chair with one hand and rubbed his hip with the other.

  She rushed across the room and knelt before him. “You’re in pain.”

  “Yes, goddamn it, I’m in agony!”

  She jerked her head up to meet his blistering gaze.

  “Those damnable stairs have thirty-seven bloody steps.”

  She angled her chin. “You could have waited at the bottom. I would have been down eventual
ly.”

  “I didn’t know if you planned to go out the front or the back.”

  “I wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye.”

  “So you say, now that you’ve been caught.”

  “So I say because it’s the truth.” She kneaded his hip. His hand closed over hers.

  “You would have left me at the altar, standing there like a bloody fool.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I had planned to say good-bye. Granted it was going to be quick, but you would have known not to go to the church.”

  “We had a wager, you and I.”

  The solemnity of his voice shredded her heart. She bolted to her feet and began to pace. “You don’t get married because one night you were too drunk to cheat and cut to the high card. You get married because you love someone and you want to spend the rest of your life with her.”

  He gave a long, thoughtful nod. “All right, then, I’ll give you the opportunity to reverse the outcome of our original wager. We’ll go best two out of three. The stakes remain the same: a wedding or one more night in my bed.”

  “Harry—”

  “You can’t call off a wager simply because you get cold feet.”

  “I’m not getting cold feet. I’m sober.”

  He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. “Bring that table over here.”

  “Harry—”

  “Do it. It’s the only honorable way.”

  In exasperation, she crossed the room, grabbed the bedside table, and shoved it across the floor until it was before him. She watched him shuffle and slam the deck on the table. “Cut,” he ordered.

  She dropped to her knees, grabbed several cards, and shoved the bottom one in his face without looking at it. What did it matter when he would beat it anyway?

  “Ah, an eight,” he murmured.

  He cut the deck and held the bottom card up for her perusal. A six.

  Her gaze darted between the two cards and his face. She stared at him in disbelief. “I always thought you cheated.”

  “I only cheat when it’s important that I win.”

  She laughed. “But you didn’t win. An eight beats a six. You lost!”

  “What makes you think I think I lost?”

  While she struggled to make sense out of what he’d just said, he shuffled the cards.

  “Forget all the cuts that have come before. Forget the best two out of three. This last cut is the only one that will matter.” He slapped the deck in front of her. “Cut.”

  Warily watching him, she lifted a section of the deck and turned it to reveal a three of clubs. Her heart sank as disappointment hit her…because as much as she protested, she did want to marry him. And the odds of him cutting to a two—

  He leaned forward. “Tell me you don’t love me, tell me you don’t want to be married to a cripple—”

  “You are not a cripple!”

  He smiled. “Tell me you don’t want to be married to me, and I’ll cut to the queen of hearts. Otherwise, I plan to cut to the two of hearts.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “Harry—”

  “I know you want the words, Jessye, but I can’t give them to you. However, until the day I die, I will give you the actions that show you what you want to hear.” He tapped the deck. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  “You know I can’t lie, Harry.”

  He smiled slowly. “I know.”

  “I love you, you scoundrel. But I don’t want you to marry me if you don’t love me.”

  Slipping his finger between the cards she held and her palm, he eased out the top card and flipped it over. The two of hearts.

  “As long as the top card is you, Jessye my love, I will remain faithful to it,” he vowed.

  Her heart closed into a tight, painful knot while tears burned her eyes and scalded her throat. She shoved the table aside and crept forward on her knees until she was nestled between Harry’s thighs. She combed her fingers through his black hair and held his green eyes with her own. “I can’t, Harry,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  “I can’t marry a man who won’t risk telling me that he loves me.”

  Pain crept into his eyes, and the ache in her chest increased.

  “You know why I can’t,” he rasped.

  She nodded slightly. “I know. You don’t trust me any farther than you can throw me.”

  “I do trust you, damn it!”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

  “I trusted you enough to bare my soul—”

  “But not your heart.” She touched her trembling fingers to his lips. “You shared your body with me, and it was glorious. Ah, Harry, it was so glorious. You bared your soul, and I’ve sheltered your secrets. But you won’t give me your heart because you’re afraid that I’ll hurt you like your mother or Margarite did. I’m not either one of them, but if you can’t trust me to cherish three words, I can’t give you the rest of my life.”

  “You will never find anyone who is better for you.”

  “I know.” She brushed her lips over his. “Tell me once. That’s all I need.”

  He slammed his eyes closed and clenched his jaws. “I can’t.”

  She rose to her feet. “I wish to God that I didn’t need the words, Harry, because I do love you.”

  He opened his eyes. “Then marry me.”

  “The greater the risk, the greater the return. You taught me that. You’ve given your body to other women. I need from you something that you’ve never given to anyone else. I want your heart.”

  “You ask too much.”

  “Because I’ve had too little.”

  Leaning over, he snatched up his cane and slowly brought himself to his feet. He reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “Here.”

  She took it from him. “What is it?”

  “It was to be your wedding present. Now, it is simply a gift.”

  She opened the envelope and removed the deed to the saloon. He had signed the building back over to her father.

  “I shall be the one to leave,” he said quietly. “Not you.”

  She looked at him. “You’re giving the saloon back to my father?”

  “It was never my intent to keep it, but I needed something to replace what I had lost.”

  “The use of your legs?”

  “Your love.”

  She felt the pain slice through her.

  “I had it before we got to Kansas. I just didn’t realize it until I lost it.”

  She shook her head. “You never lost it. Do you think I would have stood by you all these months if I didn’t love you?”

  “But now you want me to earn it with words I cannot say.”

  “I want you to risk giving me your heart so that you’ll truly understand the extent of my love.”

  He shook his head. “Be happy, Jessye. I shall leave in the morning.”

  He stepped toward the doorway. She’d gambled and lost. He’d called her bluff.

  He grabbed the door, slammed it shut, and pressed his forehead against it. She rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around him, laying her cheek against his back. She felt the tremors coursing through him. “You don’t have to say the words. I’ll marry you because I can’t be happy without you.”

  “I suppose if I were to say the words, you’d want me to look at you when I did.”

  She wrapped one arm around him and slid her other hand to his, intertwining their fingers. “Not necessarily.”

  He turned and leaned against the door. She saw the turbulent emotions swirling within his eyes. He had journeyed through hell, and here she was asking him to walk farther. “Harry—”

  He touched a finger to her lips. “You’re right. You deserve the words and so much more. A marriage should not come about because of the turn of a card.”

  Moaning, he worked his way down to one knee, gripping the cane with one hand. She bit back her cry at his efforts, his harsh breathing resounding around her. Why couldn’t she hav
e been content—

  He lifted his gaze to her, and within the emerald depths she saw her answer. Never had he looked at her with such intense vulnerability or overwhelming love.

  He took her hand, and the trembling she’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by strength. She watched him swallow.

  “I love you, Jessye. Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”

  The tears burst forth, and she nodded. “Yes, oh yes.” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, covering his mouth with her own. His arm pressed her more closely against him as the kiss deepened into a sweetness that was joyous to receive.

  She trailed her mouth along his jaw. “Oh, Harry, I love you so much.”

  “Good, because I’m going to need help getting up.”

  She leaned back, meeting his gaze. “Thank you. Thank you for the words, thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

  “My one regret is that I can’t carry you to that bed.”

  She smiled seductively and rose to her feet. She helped him stand. Rising on her toes, she nipped the beloved dent in his chin. “I bet you can follow me.”

  She took a step back and began to unbutton her bodice. Another step. Another button. Until she reached the bed. Slowly she removed all her clothing until it pooled on the floor beside her.

  Harrison caught his breath at the sight of Jessye standing magnificently before him with nothing but gossamer shadows playing over her flesh. Leaning on his cane, he limped toward her, for the first time experiencing no shame over his awkward movements.

  Only now did he realize that he had been crippled long before he came to Texas. Only now, with this woman, did he feel truly healed. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her tenderly. She was his, not because of the turn of a card but because of the change of a heart.

  How fortunate he was that she would not allow him to cheat them.

  He sank on the bed. She put his cane aside. He relished the movement of her hands as she removed his clothing.

  Then she was beside him, flesh against flesh, heat pouring into heat, passion yielding to passion.

  Jessye felt Harry’s hands gliding over her body as though he’d never before touched her. The gentleness of his exploration was devastating to her senses. She’d never felt so cherished.

  He had given her his body before, his soul, and now he was truly gifting her with his heart.