She stayed under longer than she needed, holding the jar inelegantly above her because she hadn’t thought out anything beyond getting away from that discomfort. Eventually, she had no choice but to surface. As she feared, when she did, they were all staring at her. Water dripped into her eyes. She blinked it away.
“I’m sorry.” The foolish apology just popped out, garnering more attention and more awkwardness.
Jenna sighed and took the jar from her hand. “No, we’re the ones who’re sorry. You don’t know us, and all we’ve done is bully you and bombard you since Jackson brought you through the door.”
“And cry tears all over you,” Mara added wryly.
“It’s all right, but I think you should have the cake.”
“We’ll all share.”
“Sit up,” Jenna ordered, moving behind her.
“Oh,” Mimi said over her right shoulder, “I can do it.”
“It” being washing her hair, but she might as well have been talking to herself. Cool cream plopped on her head.
“Hush. I’m apologizing.”
By washing her hair? “Um, thank you.”
Jenna was thorough and efficient. Mimi dug her nails into her palms, counting to one hundred to avoid jumping from the warm water. The tub was too small, the room too crowded. Her emotions too raw. Her defenses, like the bubbles that were disappearing with a silent disregard for her preferences.
“Jenna?” Evie observed.
“What?”
“You’re making Mimi uncomfortable.”
“Oh.”
What was Mimi supposed to say now? Holding the washcloth to her chest, she confessed. “I’ve been bathing myself for a long time.”
Jenna stepped back, her limp giving her steps an awkward-sounding rhythm that further jangled Mimi’s nerves.
“I’m sorry.”
Evie gathered the stack of towels and set them by the tub. “I bet you’ve done it in privacy, too.”
What could she say except the truth? “Yes.”
“Darn it, Evie!” Mara cursed, struggling to get out of the chair. “Couldn’t you have had this revelation before I sat down again?”
“Apparently not.” Evie held out her hands. “Come on, Moby-Dick. I’ll help you up.”
“Don’t think I don’t know you’re calling me a whale. I read that darn book.”
“And did you enjoy it?”
Mara huffed. “I’m saving that for the book discussion. But safe to say, I think Ahab needed a kick in the butt.”
“Mara always brings an interesting perspective to book club,” Jenna whispered to Mimi as she put the cork back on the shampoo.
“Has she read The Whale, Jenna?” Mara asked over her shoulder as Evie half encouraged, half pushed her out the door.
Jenna raised her eyebrows. Mimi shook her head.
“Nope.”
“She should. I bet she’d want to kick Ahab in the butt, too.”
Mimi couldn’t help a smile at the way Mara delivered that decree.
“You just want someone to argue on your side for once when we discuss motivation,” Evie teased.
“Just for that, I’m taking this cake with me, by the way.”
They continued to bicker as they left the room.
“You’ll have to forgive Mara for her enthusiasm,” Jenna apologized as their voices faded. “The doctor has put her on bed rest because of complications. On top of that, she has to stay here in town with Evie just in case something goes wrong again.”
Again? “I didn’t take offense.”
“Good. Being separated from Cougar and being forced to be still are the two worst things in the world for her, and she’s having to deal with both at the same time.” Jenna bit her lip and rubbed her thigh. “It wears on her.”
“I understand. I’m not myself, either.” That was an understatement.
This got her a long, considering look. “I can understand that.” With a last rub of her thigh, Jenna headed for the door. She paused when she reached it, one hand on the jamb. Mimi braced herself for whatever was coming. “I know the water’s getting cold and you want nothing more than to rinse that shampoo out of your hair. I also know this is none of my business, but Jackson saved my life once and Clint’s more than that. His happiness means a lot to me. So, if you really do just think of him as ‘a man you once kissed,’ please don’t lead him on.”
As if she’d even know how. “Jackson’s a grown man.”
Jenna drew herself to her full height. Her fingers drummed on the wood. “Who’s smitten with you.”
Mimi didn’t know what to do with that information. Should she believe it? Run from it? Her life was so complicated right now that Jackson caring for her was just one more thing to juggle when she already felt she had too many balls in the air. She couldn’t even muster anger. But she wanted to muster something. Anything. She was just so darned tired.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jenna hesitated a second longer, as if there was more she wanted to say, but with a last tap on the jamb, she settled for, “Thank you.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Mimi alone with her thoughts. And her fears.
* * *
• • •
The saloon was deserted this time of day.
“Looks like we’ve got our pick of tables,” Brad said.
“The one in the back corner looks good.”
“You read my mind. Far enough from the stench of the spittoon yet still affording a premium view of the occupants and the door.”
As they passed the bar, Jackson snagged a bottle of whiskey off the counter and motioned to the bartender for four glasses.
“You ever miss that fancy life of yours?”
“Not for a minute.”
“You’re happy being a preacher?”
“I always was a preacher. I just used different methods of persuasion. That had to change.”
“Bullets do have a way of limiting the congregation.”
Brad’s lips tilted in a half smile. “Exactly.”
Jackson pulled out a chair. “Are Cougar and Clint coming?”
“Right after they finish up at the bank.” Brad shook his head. “Still can’t get over how respectable those two have gotten.”
“Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?” Jackson asked. “It wasn’t too long ago that you were the richest bounty out there.”
“My motto has always been if you’re going to sin, sin big.”
“And now you’re the Reverend Brad Swanson.”
Brad smiled, revealing even white teeth and the charm that had allowed him to escape capture all those years as an outlaw. “And now I’m the Rev. Which only proves God does work in mysterious ways.”
Jackson pulled the cork from the bottle. “Who drinks.”
Brad chuckled and nodded. “Who drinks.”
“A lot.”
Sunlight flashed as the swinging doors opened, brightening the gloomy interior. Two men entered the saloon, their silhouettes unmistakable in similarity in height and breadth of shoulder. Jackson set the other two glasses out before filling all four. As Cougar and Clint reached the table he tipped his hat. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”
“Afternoon.”
“Howdy.”
Clint sat kitty-corner to the Rev. Cougar grabbed a chair from the neighboring table, turned it around, and straddled it. “So what are we celebrating and who’s paying?”
Pushing the glasses over, Clint announced, “I don’t know what we’re celebrating, but the drinks are on me today.”
Cougar smiled. “In that case, I’ll have two.”
The first toast as always was silent, a glass raised in remembrance of those who’d passed. The second in friendship for those that remained
. It was a long-standing tradition between them, the ritual as bonding as the emotion. It was a hard life out here, where friends tended to be few and enemies were plentiful. Good people, and good friends, were respected in death as well as in life.
“So, fess up. Where’d you find the woman?” Clint asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“Believe it or not, at the bottom of a well.”
“Now, that has all the makings of an interesting story,” Brad said, swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass.
It did. Jackson just wasn’t sure yet how much of it he wanted to share. There was something different about Mimi. Something inexplicably appealing about her smile. Something addictive about her laugh. Something devastating about her tears. It wasn’t that he was an unfeeling man on his worst days. It was just, with Mimi, everything was sharper. More intense. More . . . right.
“You going to spill it or make us guess?” Cougar asked.
The next table over, a gambler played solitaire to pass the time before the evening crowd piled in. The swinging doors opened one more time. A drunk stumbled in. His staggering gate perfectly matched the erratic timbre of Jackson’s emotions. He finished his drink and poured another.
“Like that, is it?” Cougar asked, holding out his glass. Jackson topped it off.
“When I crossed the ridge, I noticed smoke coming from Half-Assed Bentley’s place. I rode over to check it out.”
“And?”
“The children were frantic. Mimi had fallen down the well, and it was filled with rattlers. When I got there, they were about to drop a lamp down.”
“It’s a wonder they didn’t burn her alive.”
“It wasn’t lit, but yeah.”
“Was she hurt?”
“Her arm.”
“And you?”
“Nothing I won’t recover from.”
“Uh-huh.” Brad leaned back in his chair. “Kevin was impressed with how you took on all those snakes. About a hundred, to hear him tell it.”
Jackson rolled his shoulder. “Kevin has an active imagination.”
“What were a woman and kids doing out there in the first place?”
“Bentley sold it to them.”
Clint frowned. “I’m going to have to have a talk with Bentley. He had to know selling that place to a woman and children was murder.”
Jackson forced his fingers to relax on the glass. “You’ll have to get in line.”
With a nod Clint acknowledged his right.
Cougar motioned to the bartender for another bottle before observing, “From what I’ve seen, Mimi’s a scrapper.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Hell no.” Cougar nodded thanks to the bartender for the bottle. He poured himself a drink. “It’d take a scrapper to keep pace with you.”
“Maybe I don’t want anybody to pace me.”
Brad tossed back a shot. “Well, you sure don’t want anybody you have to drag along.”
Maybe not. Maybe so. Truth be told, he hadn’t given much thought to what kind of partner he’d want in life. He’d just gotten to the realization that he was tired of drifting. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want.”
“If that’s the case, you got no business playing with a woman who’s responsible for three children.”
He took a sip of whiskey. Rolling it through his mouth consideringly before swallowing. “I know that.”
Cougar studied him through narrowed eyes. “But you’re not going to leave her alone.”
Jackson spun the glass in a slow circle, weighing his conscience against his desires. “Probably not.”
“Damn, Jackson.”
“I know.”
“Jen and I can take in the kids,” Clint offered.
“She’d never leave them.” And he wasn’t sure he’d want her to.
“She’s young for that much responsibility,” Brad said.
“She’s young for everything.”
Brad shook his head. “She’s not too young for you, if that’s what you’re trying to imply, but I definitely get the impression that she’s in over her head.”
“Me, too. And she’s running from something.”
“Or someone.” That was from Clint.
Jackson looked up. Clint was the spitting image of his cousin Cougar. If you looked closely, his face was a little softer in the angles. But that was the only place where they differed. Both the McKinnleys were tough as nails. “What makes you say that?”
“I didn’t think much of it, but a week ago a couple men came through asking questions about a woman with kids. Claimed they were trying to catch up with a wagon train.”
“You didn’t believe them?”
Clint shrugged. “They didn’t look like family men.”
“Are they still around?”
“They moved on a few days ago.”
“Did they leave an address or way to be reached?”
Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to Jackson. “You might take a drink before opening it.”
Jackson didn’t want to drink. He wanted the truth. The paper crinkled as he unfolded it. A sketch in black unfolded along with type. A familiar layout to a man in his line of work. He looked up at Clint. “She’s wanted?”
“From the size of the reward, I’d say pretty badly.”
Shit.
Jackson smoothed the flyer out on the table. It wasn’t the best likeness, but the artist had nailed the eyes and the mouth. That kissable come-hither mouth. “A five-thousand-dollar reward for theft? What did she do, rob the pope?”
“Whatever she did, she pissed somebody off.”
Brad held out his hand. “May I?” He read quietly. “I recognize the name of who’s distributing the reward.”
“And?”
“I wouldn’t hand a rattlesnake over to him, but that’s not the worst of your problems.”
“Spill it, Rev.”
Brad tapped the paper. “She’s not only wanted by this man, she’s also married to him.”
Eleven
It was funny how two days could shake up a person’s life and make mincemeat of all their plans. Standing on Evie’s whitewashed front porch, a bag chock-full of donated clothing and other items from Jenna and Mara at her feet, Mimi waited for Jackson to bring the new buckboard around.
The spontaneous visit was over. The Rev and Evie had been generous hosts, but they were going home. From the side yard, she could hear the children’s laughter as they played a game of tag. The sun was shining and a cooling breeze was blowing. She should be happy, but the last forty-eight hours weighed on her spirit like lead. It’d been two days since the fight with Sunny. Two days in which she’d bounced between enjoyment and dread.
It was nobody’s fault but her own that she couldn’t land on a single emotion. She’d put up the walls over the years and hidden behind them, never understanding that she had been building not a shelter but a prison. But she understood it now. She understood a lot of things now. She used to tell herself she didn’t have enough experience living with other people to get along with them and that was why she preferred her own company. But the reality she’d discovered was that what she was lacking wasn’t experience so much as trust. She simply didn’t trust anyone.
She worried when Jenna invited the children over that she was stealing their love. She worried every time Jackson left the room that he wasn’t going to come back. She worried if she let herself relax and enjoy her new friends, she wouldn’t have the strength to do what needed to be done.
I won’t let him hurt you anymore.
Most of all, she worried that she didn’t have what it took to fulfill the promise she’d made the children in regard to Mac’s threats.
Her whole life had been about worrying and keeping control. Growing up a bastard, a so
cietal outcast, a repentant sacrifice to her mother’s religion, she’d had no choice. That need for control was so ingrained in her that it’d become a form of arrogance. She could see that now. She’d become so self-reliant that she couldn’t even trust herself. Not to do the right thing, anyway.
When she’d told herself she’d learned enough about deceit and treachery during her time with Mac to create a safe place for those kids, to give them everything their parents hadn’t, she’d been deluding herself and ended up taking them along for the ride. But the die was cast. There was nothing left to do but push forward.
Before she’d come to Cattle Crossing, she probably could’ve kept deceiving herself that she was capable of all she’d set out to do. That she had everything under control. But now that she’d experienced having the burden she’d put on her shoulders lifted briefly by Jackson’s friends, she didn’t know how to go back.
And then there was Jackson. The man who’d called her his siren, who’d kissed her lips, captured her imagination, saved her life. Jackson, who was supposedly smitten with her. Jackson, who’d stopped seeking out her company. Jackson, who’d inexplicably become a polite, perfectly well-behaved stranger.
The front door squeaked open. Evie stepped through, looking as fresh as a summer day in her yellow dress trimmed with white. “Jackson will be here any minute now with the wagon. Are you sure you have everything?”
Mimi forced a smile. “I’m sure.”
“I wish you’d let me wrap that material up in oilcloth to protect it. It’s a big investment you’re making.”
“I’m more worried about the oil ruining the material than any rain. Besides, it’s only got a three-hour journey. We should be all right.”
With minimal fanfare, the flatbed and mule rounded the corner. Little Lady was tied to the back. From the way she was prancing, it seemed she wasn’t too pleased at being regulated to second place.
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