Jenny sprang from the bed and grabbed his arm. “Please don’t go. You’ve got to be dead tired and that’s how accidents happen, and next time you might not be so lucky.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Then maybe that’ll settle it for both of us.” He withdrew his arm from her grasp and left the room.
***
Jenny couldn’t decide if Jason was spending long hours at the Dusty to get away from her and her incessant probing into his past, or because a new vein of silver ore had just been uncovered. The silver strike was the reason she gave the brides for his absence at dinner the past week, and no one questioned. Most were too preoccupied with their love interests to care. Jenny regretted Jason’s absence when the women were present, because he played the role of loving husband, and was open with his affections, and it gave her a reason to touch his face or take his hand or snuggle in the curve of his arm.
But over the past week, he didn’t return to the house until late in the evening. He’d spend a little time with Lily, who at five months would squeal and laugh and jabber Dada whenever he came into her room, then raise her arms for him to pick her up. She could now stand while holding his fingers, and like a proud father, Jason bragged that she was very advanced for her age. Then he’d tuck her in bed, kiss her goodnight, touch Jenny’s cheek as he passed through her room, and close the door. It was clear he wanted to put some distance between them.
If she hadn't been so unrelenting in pressuring him to open his heart to her about his dark past, or to give her the love she so desperately wanted from him as her husband, she wouldn't have driven him away. She wasn’t entitled to either. He’d been candid about things from the start. With just a little patience, he might have come to her in his own time. Now she doubted he ever would. For today, she looked forward to going to town with Maddy Jenkins, Isabelle Herring and Laura Tanner. They wanted to go to the mercantile and visit some of the new businesses: two dry goods stores, a shoemaker, a candy shop, and a fine new theater where traveling troupes of actors would be putting on a play the next week.
By late afternoon they’d finished their shopping. They had just stepped out of the dry goods store when they saw a man, with a face as cold and hard as granite and eyes to match, riding into town on a horse, and leading a mule with a dead body slung across its back. Word spread, and as the man plodded through town, people lined the street, Jenny and the young women among them.
As the man passed, an old prospector who was standing beside them, said with a snort of disgust, “Bounty hunter,” then spit in the dirt behind the man.
Others stepped off the boardwalk and did the same.
That evening, Jason was late for dinner. Unlike evenings before, when he’d squeezed Jenny’s shoulder or kissed her cheek before taking his place at the opposite end of the table, he sat down with little more than a nod. While the women chatted about their trip to town, he sat silently, eating. His face looked troubled, and he seemed particularly preoccupied. Nothing was said about the bounty hunter until Isabelle looked at Jenny, sitting to her left, and said, “Do you know anything about bounty hunters?”
Jenny shrugged. “Only that they’re the scum of the earth according to my late husband, who was a marshal. He said they were mean, hateful men who traveled alone, that their only friends were their horse, their Remington, and their Colt Peacemaker.”
“I thought they captured murderers, outlaws and desperate criminals,” Maddy said. “It seems to me like they’re doing folks a service.”
“They’re killers,” Jenny said. “They do it for the money.”
Laura, who was sitting opposite Jenny, said, “I suppose they should be paid, since they’re taking a chance with their own lives while tracking down that sort.”
“That may be,” Jenny said, “but it’s also said that their saddle bags are filled with WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE posters, and that more often than not, they bring their victims in dead because a dead man doesn’t need to be fed on the trail. I imagine that’s what happened today. That bounty hunter didn't look the sort who'd want to bother feeding a man on the trail.”
“He was surely mean-looking,” Maddy said. “But I suppose you get that way when you spend all your time hunting down people for money. I wonder who the dead man was, if he was a notorious desperado. I’d hate to think we had those around here.”
Jenny looked at Jason. “Did you happen to hear who the dead man was, love? You must have seen the bounty hunter when he came into town today...” her voice wavered to a halt when she saw the strained look on Jason's face and the sheen of sweat coating his brow.
At first he didn’t answer, and she thought he hadn’t heard. Then he looked at her through narrowed eyes, and said, “I don’t know anything about it.” His clipped dry tone told Jenny he knew more than he was willing to say. Much more.
He knew who the bounty hunter was.
All around her, conversations began to fade, and a sense of foreboding crept over her. Was the man one of Jason’s enemies of whom he spoke, and was Jason’s past finally catching up with him? That thought taking root, she had the terrible awareness that one day she might see Jason’s body slung over the back of a mule being led by the sinister figure who had ridden into town today, and she could never live with such a memory.
Maybe now it was time for her to take Lily and move on.
CHAPTER NINE
Jason sat hunched over the bar in the Golden Fleece, nursing a whiskey while listening to the buzz around him...
“They’re all loners... Never stay in one place... Have to keep movin'…"
“No marshal to pay the bounty so he headed to Black Hawk...”
“Never been around these parts before... No one knows who he is...”
Ned Beckett! Jason plunked his glass on the bar and walked out. Sixteen years may have passed, and Beckett wore a beard and a mustache now, but there was no mistaking those glacial-blue eyes. When Beckett passed him on the street, that hard cold gaze fixed on him, and in that instant he knew Beckett recognized him, and remembered. Why the man had never tracked him years ago he couldn’t figure, other than Beckett may have felt a kind of twisted respect for a youth with little more that fuzz for whiskers besting him at his own game. But Beckett knew where to find him now, and he’d be back, first to unravel Jason's carefully woven life and make it a living hell, then to cut him down and haul him in, though Beckett knew he’d be taken down as well. Jason proved he had the where-with-all to do it, sixteen years ago.
Jason’s mind traveled back to that dark period in his life when he was an eighteen-year-old bounty hunter on the trail of men who’d raped and murdered. A man was wanted for horse stealing, bank robbery, rape and murder, and there was a large bounty on his head. Ned Beckett, already a seasoned hunter, goaded him into pairing up. Beckett would get three-quarters of the bounty to his one-quarter. He agreed, then realized too late that Beckett wanted a greenhorn kid to do his dirty work, while Beckett would take the bulk of the bounty. This was to be Jason’s eighth and final capture. After that, he planned to move west with the gold rush.
But during the capture, the man they were tracking managed to get on his horse and flee. Jason grabbed his gun and beaded in on the man, but never fired. Beckett was livid. His face red, cords standing out in his neck, he yelled, "You could’ve dropped that son of a bitch but you didn't fire a goddamned shot!"
Jason, who’d made it a policy to take his captives alive, replied, “That’s because I don’t shoot people in the back.”
Beckett pinned him with that cold, blue stare and said, “If you’re riding with me, boy, you’ll learn to shoot to kill.”
Jason looked him square in the eyes and replied, “A few things about me you’d better get straight, Beckett. I bring my captives in alive, I always finish the job, and I won't ride with any man who calls me 'boy’!" He mounted his horse and rode off. Within the week, Jason captured Clay Hutchins alive and took the full bounty. And Ned Beckett was the laughingstock among his peers that a kid
had beaten him at his own game.
Tales circulated for years about the mysterious young bounty hunter who’d disappeared without a trace. Until he’d made a major gold discovery in Colorado Territory…
***
Jenny looked into Jason’s bedroom. He had not been home for five nights, ever since the subject of the bounty hunter came up. After dinner that night he left the house without saying a word. When Wilma stopped by four days later, she mentioned having seen Jason nursing a whiskey at the Golden Fleece the first night, which took Jenny by surprise—Jason was not a drinking man. The second night he’d sat in on a faro game, though he rarely played. And the third night he’d been seen at the Tin Bucket with some of his men from the Phantom. Wilma offered nothing more, and Jenny didn’t ask.
Jenny explained to the brides that Jason was spending long hours at the Dusty to resolve some problems there, and that he didn’t get home until very late at night, and the women never questioned. Where Jason had been sleeping was a mystery, and Jenny had no intention of asking Wilma if she knew. The thought of him finding comfort in the arms of another woman brought a flurry of queasiness to Jenny’s stomach. It also made her want to climb into his bed and take care of his carnal needs so he’d never be tempted to seek satisfaction from anyone but his wife...
The back of her neck began to tingle, as if someone were watching her. Slowly she turned, and when she saw him standing in the doorway, she could barely breathe. But after she’d hardened to the sight of him, she had to clamp her mouth shut to hold back the torrent of questions near bursting from her lips: Where had he gone? Why had he gone? Where had he slept? The nature of their marriage did not give her the right to ask.
He stepped into the room and stood just inside the door, his hat in his hands, his face tired and drawn. “I owe you an explanation,” he said.
Jenny willed her voice to be steady, not turn soft and wobbly as she said, “Our marriage doesn’t require you to explain. I know you have physical needs that aren’t being met and I don’t expect you to live like a monk because of our arrangement.” She wanted to back away but didn’t have the will to do so; the pull to move towards him was too strong. “I only ask that you be discrete, or at least let me know when you plan to be gone so I can prepare an excuse as to why my husband isn’t with me.”
Feeling as if he were being tugged toward Jenny by unseen, outstretched hands, Jason moved a step closer. For the past four days he’d tried to keep an emotional distance from her, but the harder he tried, the more preoccupied he became with wanting her. “It’s not like you think,” he said, finding himself yet another step closer. “I wasn’t with a woman. I needed time away from you and Lily to think.”
Jenny looked at him dubiously. “Think about what?”
“How to begin disentangling our lives. When to begin doing it.”
Jenny's hands fluttered around like two restless birds. “Is that what you want? For Lily and me to return to Iowa now?”
“You know it’s not,” Jason said, wanting to take those restless hands and place them around his neck and pull her into his arms. “It’s the way it has to be.”
Jenny's eyes sharpened with awareness. “It’s the bounty hunter. You know him."
Jason gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Our paths crossed a long time ago.”
“Is he going to come after you?”
The fear and uncertainty in her eyes brought him yet another step closer, and when he saw the soft sheen of unshed tears he forgot his reasons for keeping his distance and took her in his arms. “Ah Jenny, when you look at me like that...”
Jenny tightened her arms around him. “Will that man come after you?” she asked.
“He might,” Jason replied, inhaling the sweet woman scent of her, “and I don’t want you and Lily here if he does.”
“How would it change things if Lily and I were gone?” Jenny asked.
Jason felt her body warm and yielding against his and fought the urge to carry her into his bedroom and claim her as his wife. For four days he’d thought of nothing but that... That, and the fact that he’d soon be sending her away. “Like you told Jack Bishop, you buried one husband and you don’t intend to bury another. When you leave here, our marriage will be dissolved and you will no longer have a husband.”
Jenny touched her hand to his cheek, and said, “In my heart, you’ll always be my husband, Jason. Nothing will ever change that.”
Jason captured her hand and felt her wedding ring against his palm. Her words mirrored his feelings. After she was gone, he would always picture that ring on her finger and think of her as his wife, the only woman who’d ever taken his heart captive and refused to let it go.
She looked up at him. “Would Myles have known that man?"
Jason felt his gut clench. He was getting weary of evading her questions. “Your husband didn’t talk about himself or his past,” he lied. In the end, the man calling himself Myles MacDonald had given him a bellyful of himself and his past, sixteen years of searching and preparing a revenge he’d been intent on carrying out.
Jenny glared at him. “He was your marshal, Jason. Why do you always refer to him as my husband, never Myles?”
Because his name was not Myles, it was James... James Dagget, Jason came a heartbeat away from saying. And Jenny didn’t need to know the reason why he’d changed his name.
“Our relationship was strictly business. We weren’t on a first-name basis.” Jason wondered how far she’d press the issue of that ill-fated day. There was little more he could disclose without opening doors to more questions.
“I’d still like to know one thing about Myles,” Jenny said.
Jason allowed a long stretch of silence to come between them while bracing for what that question might be. He’d given her four days to contemplate his reaction to the bounty hunter. Hindsight told him he should have diverted her attention from the subject by staying home, playing with Lily, talking about the theater troupe coming to town or the new vein at the Phantom or the fact that they were coming close to shutting down operations at the Dusty because the silver ore was too poor to mine. But he’d run away instead, feeding her doubts and fueling her questions. Having to cover for James Dagget was stretching his acting capabilities to the limit. Holding his gaze, Jenny asked, “Did Myles die a hero?”
Of anything she might have asked, that caught Jason totally off guard. Trying to make James Dagget into a hero in the eyes of his widow was a challenge he wasn‘t up to. Grasping for a half-truth, he said, “He stood his ground and never backed down.”
Jenny seemed to accept that. Then her brows gathered, and she said, “What can I tell Lily about him some day that would make her proud?”
Again, another half-lie. “Just tell her that her father was fearless and steadfast and had one of the fastest draws in the territory, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Because the other man was quicker on the draw,” Jenny stated.
Jason nodded.
“Who was the other man?”
“I can’t say. I never saw his face.” True. But no one sees his own image when facing down a challenger.
Again, that dubious look. “You and Myles were both skilled gunmen," Jenny said. "How did the man manage to get away?”
“We were caught by surprise.” Yet another half-truth. He’d been surprised as hell to learn from Myles MacDonald who he really was. And James Dagget realized too late that he was no match for the man he’d come west to track down and kill.
Jenny sat on the bed, hands clenched in her lap. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “It is time for us to leave. I saw the mining report and there doesn’t appear to be silver worth mining in the Dusty. So, I guess there’s really no reason for Lily and me to stay.”
Jason sat beside her and covered her hands with his. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I intended to tell you but put it off,” he said, then regretted the endearment. It wouldn’t put them on a track towards disentangling their lives. “We’ve worked ever
y vein and there’s no ore worth mining. We’ll probably shut down operations next week.”
Jenny looked at his big hand covering hers and the patchwork of cuts and bruises from working the mine. “I’m glad you’ll be out of there,” she said. “But what will we tell the brides about why I’m leaving?”
Jason's hand still covering hers, he replied, “We’ll tell them you’re going east to stay with your family for the winter. By spring the brides will be married and they won’t give much thought as to what happened between Mr. and Mrs. Jason Colby.”
Jenny felt the sting of tears. Jason put his arm around her and pulled her against him. Jenny sat in the curve of his arm, absorbing his warmth while trying to come to terms with the fact that this phase of her life was quickly coming to an end and she didn't want to face a future without Jason. But it seemed she had no choice. He stubbornly continued to exclude her from his carefully-guarded past, and it was time to face reality.
She shrugged off his arm and stood. “You’re right of course,” she said, blinking back the tears. “It is time for us to go, now, before winter sets in. We’re already into September." The break would be hard, but it would be clean. Jason would make certain of that. And once back in Iowa, she could begin to piece together the shreds of her life.
Jason pulled himself up and stood facing at her. He raised a hand as if to touch her, then lowered it. He said nothing, just stared at her, the muscles in his jaw flexing.
After a few moments, Jenny said, “I’ll be ready to leave by the end of the week.”
Jason looked toward Lily’s room and said, “Can I see her now?”
Jenny shook her head. “You said we should begin disentangling our lives and I think it should start with you and Lily. You’ve been gone four days and three of those days I could barely get her to sleep because she was waiting for you to tuck her in. Last night was the first night she didn’t cry herself to sleep while reaching for someone who wasn’t there.”
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