“Fair close, I guess.” She cocked her head at him. “You thinking they knew I'd be by about then?”
“It's one possibility.”
“ ‘Cause they knew about my money pouch. I wear it around my middle under my apron.”
“What did the man look like? The one who spoke to you?”
Anora shuddered delicately. “He smelled something awful. Like a privy on a hot day.”
Jesse bit back a grin, keenly aware of Anora's scent, fresh and clean, with just the faintest hint of honeysuckle or wild rose. Tendrils of escaped hair framed her face in springy curls, and he was tempted to reach out and remove the confining pins, to watch the tresses tumble about her shoulders, see the sparks of deep color stabbed to life by the sun's rays.
“Couldn't tell how tall he was,” Anora was saying, “on account of he never got down from his horse. Had a hat on, so's I couldn't see the color of his hair, either. Whiskers were darkish. Mean, slitty little eyes. Oh, and he was missing some teeth. Right here.”
Parting her lips, she pressed an index finger against her small, even teeth. Her lips were soft and rosy. Moist. Kissable lips. With difficulty Jesse pulled his attention away from her mouth and back to the matter at hand.
“Any idea how much money they made off with?”
Anora shook her head. “Oftentimes I stop at Lettie's and pay some on my account. But I didn't today, on account of it being so hot and all. I just wanted to get home.”
“They might have known that,” Jesse said finally. “One of them could have been in town, watching you. That would explain how they knew where you kept the money.” Suddenly restless, he stood. It didn't seem to be such a good idea, sitting so close to her. “This the wheelbarrow that broke on you?”
“That's it, all right.” Anora followed as Jesse hunkered down next to the wheelbarrow. The wood was warped and peeling, the metal rusted so badly it was a wonder she made it into town and back every day. “Nut's gone.” He moved the barrow slightly and Anora gave a little squeal of pain. Glancing down he saw he had rolled the wheel over her foot.
“Lord, I'm sorry. I had no idea you were standing so close.” Anora bit her lower lip. Her luminescent green eyes shone with unshed tears. Seeing the bright red outline of the wheel's mark on her foot and cursing his clumsiness, Jesse swept her into his arms. Felt like she weighed no more than a handful of feathers. “You have any ice in the house?”
Anora shook her head.
Looking around, Jesse determined the way to the creek and made his way there, ducking under the line of laundry and following the slightly overgrown pathway at the back of the shack.
“Where are you taking me?” It seemed to take Anora forever to find her voice. First had come the sudden pain, stealing her breath, followed by the heady sensation of being caught up in this man's arms and cradled against his firmly muscled chest like a heroine in one of those novels Penny was teaching her to read. The books described perfectly the way she was feeling right this minute. Flushed and dizzy. Butterflies beating at her insides. Difficulty with speech. She felt all those things and more.
“We'll get some cold water on your foot so it doesn't swell. I hope nothing's broken. Can you feel your toes?”
Anora couldn't feel a thing aside from the banded strength of his arms beneath her bottom. The steady, even beat of his heart where her arm pressed his chest. Echoed by the erratic fluttering of her own heart.
“I'm not sure.”
They reached the creek, and Jesse deposited her on a sun-warmed boulder, setting her down as gently as if she were a newborn babe. Without a thought to her modesty, he pushed her skirt up past her knees and plunged her foot into the icy water.
Anora sucked in her breath.
Jesse's concerned gaze flew to her face. “Did I hurt you again?”
“Not a bit.” She spoke candidly. “In fact I think maybe you're the most gentle man I've ever met.”
“That's a strange thing to say, considering how I nearabouts crushed every bone in your foot. Can you move your toes?”
He raised her foot gently. Anora obligingly wiggled her toes, wincing at the discomfort. Despite the cold water, the flesh was swelling, and Jesse guided it back into the cold water. “That's a relief. I guess it's just bruised.”
He held her foot in the water, cupping her heel, his thumbnail absently grazing her instep. The warmth that his touch triggered, spiraling up the length of her leg, was in direct contrast to the icy water rushing over her foot. As he squatted alongside her, Anora focused on his hat, below which his glossy dark hair escaped and brushed the collar of his jacket. Having the sudden urge to reach out and twine her fingers through a handful of his hair, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap as if she didn't trust her own limbs.
“How's that feel?” Jesse lifted her foot from the water.
“Frozen solid.” Her foot and ankle were bright red from the cold. When she realized it wasn't her foot Jesse was looking at, but the exposed length of her legs, Anora brushed her skirt down below her knees. A lady never revealed her legs to a strange man this way. Well, only women like Richelle, the type whose company Jesse was no doubt accustomed to.
“Put your arms around my neck,” Jesse said, as he made to lift her back into his arms.
“That really isn't necessary. I can walk perfectly fine.”
Slanting her a dark, enigmatic look, Jesse took her arms and looped them around his neck. There went her breath again; stolen right out of her lungs. Then he lifted her, one arm behind her back, the other beneath her bottom. His gaze never left hers, and Anora couldn't look away. There was something in his eyes, something she'd never seen before, and it was having an awfully strange effect on her.
Instead of pulling away, she felt herself lean closer against him. Tightening her arms. She could feel the pulse beating in the corded vein on the side of his neck, keeping time with his heartbeat, which felt slow and heavy against her breasts.
Her breasts didn't feel normal, either. They felt hot. Swollen. Her hardened nipples brushed against Jesse's shirtfront as if no barrier of clothing separated them. Her breath caught in her throat. Her entire body was suffused with warmth. Her eyes widened at the way Jesse looked at her. Like he was hungry and she was food. Unconsciously she moistened her lips, stared up at his. Fascinated, she watched as he slowly lowered his head and captured her mouth beneath his own.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 3
His mouth on hers was hot, invasive, fueling a steadily growing whirlpool of sensation deep within her. A whirlpool of emotions that, instead of warning her to pull away, encouraged her tentative response.
Jesse was the one who pulled away, setting Anora abruptly on her feet as if he were burned by the feel of her. She swayed slightly and caught her balance, still off-kilter from the aftermath of his kiss.
Jesse looked severe. “Mrs. King, I apologize with every fiber of my being. I had no right to do that, and I wouldn't blame you one bit if you slapped my face.”
Belatedly Anora remembered she was supposed to be married. Married women didn't go around kissing other men. She struggled to regain her composure.
She supposed she ought to act all offended, when what she really felt was curiosity. He'd ended the kiss much too abruptly for her liking.
She raised her chin a notch and met his gaze. “You're right. You ought not to have done that, Marshal. I would suggest neither of us makes mention of it ever again.”
“Agreed.” Taking a deep breath, he scooped her back in his arms. This time Anora was aware of a difference in the way he held her, arms stretched out as far as possible, holding her away from himself as if she smelled bad.
She couldn't think of one single thing to say while he carried her back to the shack, but when he set foot on the sagging front stairs she struggled for release. “Please put me down.”
“Right after I carry you inside.”
Panic edged its way into Anora's ton
e. “I said, put me down.”
When Jesse continued as if he hadn't heard her, Anora did the first thing she thought of. She reached into his holster and tugged out his gun. That got his attention. He stopped so abruptly she almost tumbled from his arms, and he set her down as if she were a rock. As they stood on the rickety porch, eye to eye, inches apart, Anora noted a new look in Jesse's eyes. A dangerous look, as he narrowed his gaze and took her measure. When he moved, it was lightning-bolt swift. A blur of motion and the gun was wrested from her grasp. He continued to eye her steadily as he slid his gun back into his holster.
“A word of advice. Never point a gun at a man unless you have every intention of using it.”
Anora crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I wouldn't?”
“Anyone who's ever handled a gun could tell you've never had one in your hand before today.”
“Oh.” Anora's bluster faded. It was true her pa had refused to teach her to shoot. Told her that with him and Ben to protect her, she had no need. “Maybe I ought to get me a lesson or two. Deal with those robbers on my own terms.”
“You leave the robbers to me,” Jesse said grimly. “Although if I was you, till I get them behind bars, I'd have that husband of yours escort you back and forth from town.”
“That's a sound idea, Marshal. A very sound idea.”
Jesse mounted Sully and headed back to town in a thoughtful mood. It had been obvious there was something in that shack Anora didn't want him to see. Which made him wonder if perhaps she was linked in with Rosco's gang somehow. The whole robbery story could have been concocted by Ben King to throw him off the scent.
Jesse frowned. No. He had a good instinct for when someone was lying, and he'd swear Anora was telling the truth. Still, her story didn't make much sense. Her description of the robber, sketchy as it was, matched Rosco. The outlaw and his boys had never struck in the daylight before, let alone bothered with the kind of money Anora would have been carrying. Which left Jesse feeling, deep in his gut, that at least one King, if not both, figured into the equation somehow. He just couldn't fit the pieces together.
Yet.
But he would. Given time, he'd get to the bottom of things, including Anora King's big secret hidden in the ramshackle cabin she called home.
The one thing he refused to dwell upon was just how good she'd felt trussed up tight against him today, nothing between him and her except that flimsy gown. The way she started to respond when he kissed her. He remembered Ricki saying how Ben King spent most evenings up at the saloon. In all likelihood Anora King was lonely and looking for some man to keep her company. That being the case, she could go do her looking someplace else.
He shook his head. Love. It was a strange bird to figure. But one thing was for sure. Love made ready fools out of anyone dumb enough to get hooked up in its clutches. He thought of his mother. His sister. Other men and women he'd known who'd succumbed to the malaise. Not for him. Never had been, never would be.
The hour approached midnight as Jesse made his rounds through the town. It had been a quiet night so far, but he was smart enough not to be lulled into a false sense of complacency. Rosco and his boys had an unpredictable way to them.
He was just passing by the Maverick when the door opened and a drunk staggered out, stumbled, did a few clumsy dance steps, tipped off the boardwalk, and landed facedown in the dirt. Seconds later he was snoring loudly. Jesse walked over and nudged him with the toe of his boot, turning his face into the thin stream of light spilling through the saloon doors. Ben King.
For some reason all he could think of was Anora, alone in that dismal shack, waiting for a husband who never showed up. Straightening, he pushed open the swinging doors into the saloon and walked up to the bar.
“Drink for you, Marshal?” asked the bartender, a man Jesse knew to have an unsavory reputation.
“Just saw Ben King stumble outta here. That his horse tied out front?”
“That sorry-looking gray? Kinda suits him, don't you think?”
Jesse took a breath and a chance. “Understand King was here last night, as well.”
The bartender's eyes shifted sideways. “Can't say as I recall.”
Jesse leaned closer. “Sure you do, Mac. He was playing poker with a couple of Rosco's boys. Never did climb on a winning streak, now did he?”
“Never does,” Mac muttered.
“It's last night interests me. I want to know what was said when King left. Everything that was said.”
“They were sitting at the back. Couldn't rightly hear.”
Jesse grabbed a handful of sweat-stained shirtfront. “That's not like you, Mac. You hear everything. I know. ‘Cause I hear everything, too. Like how there's a warrant out for you in Texas. The right word from me, and there'll be a couple of big, ugly bounty hunters in here before dawn. The type that's not too particular if they bring a man in dead or alive.”
A new line of perspiration broke out along Mac's shiny forehead. “That warrant's years old.”
“Some of us got long memories. Now, you gonna tell me what went down in here last night, or do I go over and wake up Jake over at the telegraph office?”
Mac licked his lips, cast his gaze sideways to see if anyone was in earshot. “It's like you said. King and a couple of Rosco's boys. Rosco was up at Ricki's. The boys took King's IOU. Said they'd be collecting the money by noon today, or he'd be minus a couple of fingers.”
“What did King say?”
Mac's voice dropped an octave. “He made ‘em promise not to hurt her.”
Jesse recoiled as if he'd just received a fist in the gut. “Hurt who?”
“The missus. King told the boys where she'd be and when. Told ‘em she wears a money pouch ‘round her middle ‘neath her apron.”
Not until Mac's eyes started to bulge, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically in his throat, did Jesse realize he'd unconsciously tightened his grip. Slowly he released the other man and dusted the wrinkled front of Mac's shirt.
He gave a grievous sigh. “I guessed it might be something like that.”
Mac licked his lips nervously. “The warrant,” he said, low-voiced. “That stays ‘tween me and you? I got your word?”
“My word,” Jesse said, as he turned and left the saloon.
Outside, King was sprawled exactly where Jesse had left him, snoring loudly enough to wake the neighborhood. Except no one bedded down till dawn in this part of town. Jesse considered tossing him in the drunk tank, aware that Eddy, his deputy, would complain long and loud. Any prisoners got sick in the cells, Eddy was the poor sot who cleaned up the mess.
An image of Anora came to mind, her pert little nose with its smattering of freckles, the way her hair dried in fetching corkscrews around her head. He glanced again at King, shook his head, then reached down and plucked the man from the street. He hauled King over to a rain barrel and took a certain perverse satisfaction out of pushing him underwater, head first. On the count of three, King stiffened, tried to bellow, and took in a mouthful of water.
Jesse hauled him up by the scruff of his neck, shook him, waited till he finished coughing, then dunked him again. It seemed to do the trick.
“What the...?”
“Go home, King.” Jesse tossed the other man onto his nag, put the reins in his hand, and gave the horse a wallop on its flank. He watched till they disappeared from sight. Then he turned and made his way to Ricki's.
“Darling, this is a pleasure,” Richelle gushed, as she breezed into what she referred to as her salon. “Naturally I had hoped we might get together, but I had no idea it would be so soon. Dare I hope you missed me more than you let on?”
“Save it, Ricki,” Jesse said shortly. He crossed the nauseatingly pink room and helped himself to a hefty measure of her best whiskey, tossing the liquor down his throat in a single swallow. It smoked its way down to his knees in a slow burn.
Ricki arranged herself on a padded chaise, taking pains to display a goodly portion of
her shapely calf. Her movements weren't lost on Jesse, who couldn't help comparing Ricki's lush curves to Anora's slender limbs. The realization of what he was doing deepened his frown, and Ricki sat forward.
“Must be something mighty important to crease up your poor old forehead like that,” she said.
“You had Rosco here last night.”
“Really? That's funny, I don't recall as to—”
Jesse closed the distance between them and planted himself in front of her, legs apart, arms crossed over his chest. “It's late, and I'm not in much of a mood. You sent for me because of Rosco and his thugs terrorizing the good citizens of Boulder Springs. Why would you even let him through the doors, Ricki? Why?”
Ricki swung her legs out of the way and patted the spot next to her. After a brief hesitation, Jesse sat down. “Surely you haven't been out of the game that long, Jesse. You have any idea what Rosco would do if I refused him entry? Like as not, he'd burn the place down and me along with it. Healthiest thing I can do is roll out the red carpet for the vermin.” She patted Jesse's knee. “Now that you're here, you'll catch the bastard red-handed. Save me and everyone else in Boulder Springs from worrying our poor little heads about him anymore.”
“I just picked Ben King up out of the gutter, drunk as a skunk.”
“What'd you do then?” Ricki watched him closely. Too closely. Jesse took care to keep his expression unreadable.
“Threw him on his horse and sent him on his way.”
Ricki shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I guess that's better than him spending the night in the jail. Can't help feeling sorry for that little gal he's married to, though.”
“You don't know the half of it,” Jesse said tightly. “You think she married him for love or pity?”
“What's the difference?” Ricki sat forward, eyes bright with sudden interest. “Hear she got robbed, in broad daylight, no less. Has Rosco no shame?”
“It appears not,” Jesse said, his lips tightening in a thin line. No shame. Same as Ben King.
The doors on the back of the schoolhouse flew open. A herd of children, some young, others nearly grown, scampered down the steps and nearly bowled Anora over. After the youngsters had scattered, Anora made her way inside to where Penny stood, her back to the door, erasing the chalkboard.
Anora's Pride Page 3
