Jesse caught her before she hit the ground, shocked by how thin she felt beneath her voluminous gown. He could feel every rib. The sharp outline of her hipbones. His palms cupped her belly.
He stiffened.
The overly rounded curve of her belly.
His thoughts flew backward in time to Rose and the sickness she'd experienced when carrying his nephew. A sickness triggered unexpectedly by sharp odors.
When Anora tried to wriggle from his grasp, his grip automatically tightened. She glared up at him, clearly too spent to fight.
He stared at her, hardly daring to allow his suspicions to surface. His thoughts must have been clearly written on his face, because suddenly she averted her gaze. When he felt the fight go out of her, he knew for sure. Recognized the unmistakable instinct of a mother protecting her unborn.
Jesse released her so abruptly she stumbled before catching her balance. As he turned away he felt the self-loathing rise up in his throat and threaten to choke him.
He forced himself back around to face her. “Why didn't you tell me?”
She raised her chin a notch and straightened her shoulders. “Nothing to tell.”
The rise of emotions was blinding and knocked him nearly senseless. She faced him all proud and defiant, the same way Rose had. Except with Rose he'd been the aggrieved brother defending his baby sister's virtue. In Anora's case he'd been the despoiler of that virtue. The lowest of the low. A cad of all times. And the man who ought to be calling him out for his actions lay dead and buried.
With a muffled exclamation of self-disgust Jesse turned and stumbled blindly toward Sully. It took every ounce of his strength to pull himself into the saddle. Once mounted, he rode away without a backward glance.
Anora watched him go, arms folded protectively across her abdomen, her emotions in a tangled knot. She'd never seen Jesse look so down on himself. For a minute there, she thought he'd cottoned on to her condition, but then the strangest thing had happened. She'd watched the bluster ooze clear out of him. Wherever that reprieve came from, it had bought her some badly needed time, a fact for which Anora was profoundly grateful. Either that, or he'd guessed the truth, and was hightailing to town, where he'd pack his bags and be on the next train.
“Good riddance,” Anora muttered as she turned to go inside, wishing with all her might that she meant it.
Something moved near Jesse, and the ripples of pain that split his skull were unbearable. He groaned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The movement increased, as did the pain, knifelike shards through which he recognized a woman's voice.
“ ‘Nuff of this nonsense, Jesse Quantrill,” Ricki said. “You lie here much longer, I'm gonna charge you rent.”
“Leave me ‘lone.” His tongue behaved like an uncooperative hunk of dry flannel, his words almost incoherent.
“I've left you alone long enough,” Ricki retorted. “Watched you fair try an’ kill yourself with alcohol poisoning. ‘Fraid I've had about all I'm prepared to put up with.”
Jesse tried to move, but the pain was too intense. “I'm dying.”
“You wish,” Ricki said. “Fact of the matter is, you got about the worst hangover I ever seen. And I don't feel sorry for you one whit.”
Jesse squeezed one eye open a slit. “What happened?”
“You tell me. All I got outta you was a lot of babbling about Rose and Anora.”
Anora! Memory came flooding back, despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. “How long I been out?”
“Two days. A record for you, far's I know.” As she spoke, Ricki pressed a glass into his hand. “Drink this and I'll get you some coffee.”
Jesse didn't dare sniff at the contents, just tossed the drink back and hoped his stomach didn't empty itself all over him. His innards lurched sourly; he clamped his lips tightly together, swallowed the bile, and felt a faint settling.
“I'm not even going to ask what that was.”
“Best not to,” Ricki said as she took the empty glass. “Think you can sit up?”
“Do I have to?”
“Uh-huh. Nice and slow. You'll feel dizzy at first.”
Dizzy wasn't the half of it. Sweat beaded his forehead. His entire body shook like a wet dog. Gritting his teeth, he swung his uncooperative legs to the floor one at a time, only to have the floor rush up to meet him.
He felt Ricki's arm around his shoulders holding him upright. As his breathing slowed closer to normal, he met her gaze.
“You gonna tell me what happened to send you off like this?”
He tried to shake his head and winced at the pain. “Can't.”
“Sure you can, soldier. This is Ricki, remember. You can tell me anything.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Like you have in the past.”
“Remember when Rose was in a family way? And Cameron refused to do the honorable thing?”
He thought he detected a faint wariness in her eyes, but it passed so quickly he decided he must have imagined it.
“You tried talking to him and things went bad.”
Jesse exhaled heavily. “Real bad. For a while there I wanted to take him apart, limb by limb, for what he'd done. But I never wanted him to die.”
“I know that. Rose knows that, too.”
“I've done the same thing.”
Ricki frowned. “What same thing?” She paused. “You don't mean you and some girl... Here? In Boulder Springs? Who on earth...?” Her voice fell flat. “Not that Anora King.”
“ ‘Fraid so.”
Ricki clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth thoughtfully. “You sure it's yours? I don't mean to be crude, but sometimes...”
“Not a shred of doubt.”
“Well then.” Ricki rose and poured him a cup of steaming black coffee. “I suppose the two of you'll be getting hitched.”
“What makes you say that?”
“ ‘Cause I know you. Honorable to a fault.”
Jesse snorted. “Anora hates me.”
Ricki cocked her head to one side. “They say love walks a fair close line next to hate. ‘Sides which, I've seen the way she looks at you. Matter of fact, I've seen the way you look at her. Which, I expect, is how you got yourself into this fix.”
“We both know I'm not husband material.”
“Oh, well then,” Ricki said airily. “In that case I'd best come by and help you pack. Train goes through at noon. You can just hightail it straight out of town and away from your responsibilities.”
Jesse drained his coffee cup with a noisy slurp.
“You got a real talent for knowing just the right thing to say.”
“I try,” Ricki said, with a smile. “I do my almighty best.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 14
Jesse wouldn't call it luck, exactly, but as he watched Anora cross the street and go inside the church, he admitted it was an opportunity. For, while he'd been chafing to have a word with her in private, he was reluctant to go back to the ranch, feeling unsure of his welcome.
Unsure? Hell. In her place, he'd as soon blow his head off as talk civilly. But surely if he came upon her in the house of the Lord...
Swiftly Jesse crossed the road. As he climbed the steps to the church and reached to remove his hat he scowled, realizing his palms were damp with sweat. He felt as nervous as a schoolboy at his first dance. And he didn't much cotton to the fact of Anora having that kind of effect on him.
Inside he paused and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He hoped he wouldn't find Anora cloistered with the preacher, confessing to having engaged in the act of procreation outside of the marriage bed.
He spotted her standing alone up near the statue of the Blessed Mother. As he watched she leaned forward and touched her taper to a candle. The flame flared as the second candle took light and Anora sank to her knees. Noiselessly Jesse started toward her, before he had time to change his mind.
He reached her side and stood, scarcely daring to b
reathe. Anora's head was bowed, her eyes closed, as her lips moved in silent prayer. He drew a deep breath and filled his nostrils with the smell of her. Country blossoms, fresh clean air. Scented soap. His heart pounded so loud behind his ribs surely she could hear it, but if she did she didn't let on.
Eyes raised to the statue before him, he added his own particular version of prayer, then dropped to his knees alongside Anora. She started. Her eyes flew open wide and she sucked in her breath at the sight of him, kind of a soundless gasp.
“Wouldn't have taken you for one to set much store in the Lord,” Jesse mumbled, not knowing what else to say. He turned his hat round and round in his hands as he spoke.
“There's plenty you don't know about me, Jesse Quantrill,” she retorted. “By that same token, what brings you here?”
“I followed you in.”
“Why?”
When he spoke, his voice was unsteady. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” She appeared inordinately interested in the flickering candles near the statue's feet.
Emotions welled through him furiously strong and fast. Anger. Uncertainty. Guilt. “We'll be married.” The words came out terse and clipped, not at all the way he'd meant to ask her.
Her head snapped back as if he'd struck her. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice was a harsh whisper in that holy place, and he lowered his own accordingly, leaned instinctively close, to where he could feel the warmth of her breath and watch the sudden activity of a small vein pulsing near her throat.
“I said we'll be married. I'll not have any bastard running around wondering who his daddy is and why he didn't stick around long enough to give his mama his name.”
“I'll see you in hell before I marry the likes of you.”
At least she didn't bother to deny it. “You carry my child.”
Her eyes on his were unemotional. He only wished he could be as stalwart as she. But she'd had a longer time to get used to the idea. To formulate her moves. “No one need know. They'll all think it's Ben's.”
“Over my dead body.”
Color flowed into her face, making her look strong and spirited. “I made the mistake of playing at marriage before. I won't be party to it a second time.”
“Don't expect me to sit back and watch my child passed off as another's.”
“You know what you can do about that, don't you?”
“What's that?”
“Leave. We both know you never intended to stay in Boulder Springs.”
Jesse inhaled sharply. “Things change.”
“Do they? Do they really, Jesse? You walked out on me, full of self-righteous fury at what you saw as my duplicity.” She paused for breath, her eyes searching his face. “For us to marry would be to live another lie.”
“I did you wrong,” Jesse said stiffly. “I believe in honoring my obligations.”
Anora got to her feet and studied him, the way he vibrated with barely suppressed self-righteousness. “I was not wronged. I made my choice freely. Now I live with the consequences of that choice. I'll hear no talk from you of obligations.”
His lips thinned stubbornly. “I'll give you a spell to get used to the idea, if that's what you need.”
“There's naught to get used to,” Anora said. “I'll be just another widow lady raising her child alone. Happens all the time.”
Jesse rose and ran a hand through his hair.
“There's no point putting me off, ‘cause I won't be.”
Anora cocked her head thoughtfully. He sounded as if he meant every word. But hadn't she heard other men sound sincere as the preacher one minute, forgetting a gal's name the next?
“This kind of thing happen to you before?”
“Nope.”
But she saw the shadow momentarily darken his eyes and knew something was buried in his past. “Well,” she said with false brightness. “I'll think on what you said.” As she spoke, her mind leapt ahead. Did she have enough money to disappear for a while? Someplace Jesse wouldn't find her. She thought about the ranch. The only home she'd ever known. Could she bear to leave it? To leave behind her two best friends, Lettie and Penny?
“Don't try it,” Jesse said shortly. “I'd find you.”
“I...I...” Anora bit her lower lip, nonplused. How could he have known what she was thinking? “I don't know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” Slowly he replaced his hat atop his head, his gaze never leaving hers, and Anora felt a deep shiver work its way from her brain to her toes. Jesse Quantrill was a man used to getting his own way.
Not this time.
She straightened her shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, Marshal. But I really shall manage just fine.”
“Don't patronize me, Anora.” He had hold of her almost before she saw him move, lightning fast. She heard a little squeak of protest and realized it came from her. “You got no choice. ‘Cause I'll make good and sure every meddling gossip in this town knows who fathered your babe.”
“No one would believe you.”
“If you think that, you don't know much about human nature. Folks are always ready to believe the worst. ‘Specially if they find it titillating.”
Anora felt her bluster fade. “Why, Jesse?” Her voice was the merest whisper as she appealed to his sense of decency. If he even had one. “What have I ever done to you?”
“You don't think denying me my own flesh and blood is enough?”
“Everyone knows men don't care about things like that.”
He was silent so long she wondered if he'd answer her. She watched the emotions flit across his face, a gamut of them she couldn't even begin to guess at. Mighty powerful emotions, if his grip on her shoulders was any indicator.
“Haven't you figured out yet that I'm different from most men?”
“No denying that,” she said softly. Even now she felt herself start to weaken. How easy it would be to nestle against him, to let him make everything come out right.
He abandoned you once! her conscience told her. Nothing to stop him from doing it again.
It was true!
And that was precisely why she was determined to do this on her own, no matter how much Jesse claimed to want a part of it. She knew, despite what he said, he'd lose interest soon enough and ride off into the sunset on that splendid horse of his. Better he did it sooner than later. Before she lost every last shred of pride and begged him to stay. Begged him to love her back.
“Well, Jesse Quantrill,” she said loftily, “I believe I have considered your offer in the manner in which it was extended.” She felt his grip loosen.
“Good.”
“I decline. If you choose to ruin my reputation, then let it rest on your head. Along with the part you played in sending Ben to his death.”
She'd scored a direct hit! Jesse released her, his face unnaturally pale beneath his tan.
“What did you say?” His words were long and drawn out, dangerously low.
“I hear the rumors. Folks figure you had it in for Ben. Maybe could have stopped him before he went inside that shack.”
She had to hand it to him, he recovered fast.
“Goes along with what I told you. How folks are more than willing to believe the worst.”
“Is it true?”
He sucked in his breath, his color high. Now she'd gone and made him angry, and she reveled in her newfound power. To know she could lash out and wound.
“I guess that's one thing you'll always wonder about.” He turned to go, then swung back around to face her. “I brought you this.” He pulled the pistol from his belt and held it toward her. “I brought you bullets for it, too.”
Anora looked from his face to the gun, then back to his face.
“Take it.” He gripped the barrel, handle pointed her way. She reached for it. The metal was still warm from resting against his waist.
“What's it for?”
“Protection.”
“Funny.” She stared down at the pistol
gripped in her small hand. “When the only person I need protecting from is you.”
“You think on what was said here today. I'll be by later for an answer.”
“I already gave you my answer.”
“Then I guess it'll be up to me to change your mind.”
The sickness passed as she'd known it would, and she actually started to feel in a fine fettle. Lettie and Penny both commented on how much better she was looking. “Kinda glowing from the inside out,” as Lettie put it. Anora, aware of the way her waistline had thickened and her bosom filled out, knew that while she was able to hide her news for now, she couldn't keep it a secret forever.
For the time being, though, she hugged her secret close as, for the first time ever, she found herself looking forward to the quiet peace of winter. Come spring she'd have her very own baby. She need never be alone again.
She'd not be alone today, either, from the looks of things. Coming toward her was a strange sight indeed: Jesse guiding a runabout pulled by a splendid pair of grays.
“Whoa!” He sawed on the reins and pulled to a stop just short of the porch. Anora forced her mouth into disapproving lines.
“I told you last week I didn't want you making a habit of dropping by.”
“And I believe I told you I'm quite accustomed to doing as I please.”
He jumped lightly to the ground and plucked up a basket, which he carried into the shack.
Anora tried to ignore him, but out of the corner of her eye she spotted a tin of chocolate biscuits peeking from the basket.
“I suppose you expect me to make you coffee, as well.”
“Not at all.” Jesse pulled a chair forward and straddled it as effortlessly as if he did it every day. “Fetch your prettiest bonnet. I'm taking you for a drive.” He gave her a critical once-over. “Put some color in those cheeks. You're looking a trifle pale for my tastes.”
“There's not one single thing wrong with my color,” she said.
Jesse tilted the chair precariously on its rear legs and eyed her thoroughly. “I guess there's not at that. Still, some fresh air would do you and the young one good.”
Anora's Pride Page 13
