“So,” Rourke rumbled lazily, “what takes you to Rock Creek?”
“My sister,” she said. “She sent me a telegram asking me to come. I haven’t seen her in more than twelve years.” Hannah shivered. Twelve years was a lifetime. Would she even know Rose?
“Long time,” he mumbled. “Why now?”
Just like a man: right to the point.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “The tone of the telegram was rather urgent, but she didn’t say what was wrong.” She didn’t want to tell Jed Rourke that the only reason her sister was likely to send for her was because she and her worthless husband needed money.
“What about you?” she asked, not wanting to talk about Rose anymore.
He shrugged slightly, lifting and dropping incredibly broad shoulders. “I got an urgent telegram myself. An old friend asked for my help. Seems her husband was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Hannah sat up straight and looked directly into Jed Rourke’s scruffy, hard face. “In Rock Creek?”
“Yep,” he said nonchalantly. “Not that anyone’s grieving the good reverend’s demise.”
“Your friend”—a lady friend, she realized—“was married to the minister? And he was murdered?”
“That’s what she tells me.”
Hannah leaned back. “Why would she send for you in these circumstances?”
“Like I said, we’re old friends.”
She sensed a hint of reluctance in his lowered voice.
“I’ve been working for Pinkerton’s for the past year or so. I guess she figured I could do something to help.”
It was entirely possible that Jed Rourke would be a good man to have on one’s side in times of trouble, Hannah conceded.
“Are you the seven-foot-tall, mean-as-a-snake Jedidiah Rourke the bandits had heard tell of?”
He grinned, and that wicked smile was all the answer she needed.
“Why were they afraid of you?”
“Oh, they weren’t afraid of me. They were just curious.”
She didn’t believe that, not for a moment. They had been afraid, until they’d convinced themselves that this couldn’t possibly be Jedidiah Rourke.
“Why would they be curious?”
He gave the question some thought before he answered. “Because I have a number of very talented and dangerous friends,” he said softly.
It was an insufficient answer, but already she knew Jed Rourke well enough to know he would not be bullied into telling more than he wanted to tell. “So why were you on the stagecoach? They seemed surprised by your traveling arrangements.”
He mumbled something obscene. “I get Sylvia’s telegram and I’m headed to Rock Creek. Since I’m making good time, I stop in this little one-horse town. I go to a nice-lookin’ little saloon for a drink and a game of cards before I settle down for a night in a real bed.” He shook his head. “I shoulda known better. Not only did I lose my shirt to a crooked gambler, my horse came up lame the next morning. Bad luck,” he muttered. “There wasn’t a bank in town to wire money from my account, so I found myself in a sticky situation. Had to get to Rock Creek somehow.”
“I suppose your bad luck was fortunate for us,” she conceded, realizing how frightening it would have been to face the bandits without Jed Rourke.
“I suppose.”
He was right. Her mind had finally begun to slow down. Perhaps she’d sleep tonight after all.
“I could sure use a shot of whiskey right now,” Rourke said lowly. “Wyndham had some, but he drained his flask a while back. Ungrateful bastard,” he grumbled.
“Turn your back, Mr. Rourke,” Hannah said primly.
Stubborn as usual, he turned his eyes to her and pinned them on her face. “Why?”
She considered placing her hand on his hairy cheek and forcing him to turn away, but she was not so brave. She satisfied herself with a dismissive wave of her hand and a softly spoken, “Trust me, Mr. Rourke.”
Moving slowly and reluctantly, he spun about until his broad, buckskin-covered back was to her.
“Call me Jed,” he said. “Nobody calls me Mr. Rourke.”
Hannah kept her eyes on his back, in case he should decide to peek, and lifted her skirt slowly. She tried not to make any noise, but the rustle of fabric was loud in the dark, still night.
“Miss Winters,” Jed said, mocking her prim tone, “what are you doing back there?”
“Patience,” she said softly. “It’s a virtue, you know.”
“Not one of mine,” he grumbled.
Hannah snatched the engraved flask from the garter at her thigh, and quickly righted her skirt. “You can turn around, now.”
When Jed faced her again he eyed the flask, then clapped a large, long-fingered hand over his heart. “You’re a magician,” he teased.
“I carry the flask purely for emergency medicinal purposes,” she said demurely. “But in these unusual circumstances I’ll make an exception.”
He took the offered flask and uncapped it. “Don’t tell me, you had a cold a couple of years back.”
If there wasn’t something endearing about his grin she’d have snatched the flask away and drained it herself. She almost did just that, when Jed pinned his eyes to hers and wiped the rim of the neck with his thumb before lifting it to his mouth.
When he’d taken a healthy swig, he passed the flask to her. She wiped the rim with her sleeve before lifting it to her own mouth and taking a long, leisurely sip.
“So,” Jed said when she returned the flask to him, “who is your sister? I know a bunch of people in Rock Creek. Maybe I know her.”
“Rose Sutton,” Hannah said softly.
“Rose Sutton?” It was clear by the tone of his voice and the way his eyebrows shot up that Jed knew her. “You’re Rose’s sister?”
Oh, not him, too! All her life she’d been reminded that Rose was the pretty one, that the two of them looked nothing alike. That the fact they were related was utterly amazing. “Yes, hard as it is to imagine,” she snapped as she grabbed the flask from Jed and took another sip. The liquid burned her throat, but it did make her feel better.
He snatched the flask and took a long swallow of his own. Hannah found her eyes focusing on the workings of his throat, a long, muscular, utterly masculine throat. She blinked hard, dismissing her reaction as an effect of the liquor and her exhaustion.
“I never would’ve guessed,” he muttered.
Hannah maintained her dignity. If rising to her feet in the slim skirt weren’t such a chore, she would leap up this instant and walk away. Besides, the whiskey had already made her knees wobbly.
“You two don’t look anything alike,” Jed just had to say, “and as far as I can tell, Rose doesn’t have an ounce of gumption.”
It sounded like a compliment, but since she wasn’t sure she didn’t say thank you.
* * *
Hannah Winters swore she wasn’t sleepy, took another sip of whiskey, then promptly fell asleep and slid to the side so her head rested against his arm. Jed grabbed the blanket Mrs. Reynolds had issued for his use, and draped it over Hannah’s body.
Rose Sutton’s sister. Damn, he never would’ve guessed it. Hannah had fire in her eyes, a fresh mouth, and a steely determination he would’ve respected in any man. Rose let Baxter and those brats of hers run all over her.
Okay, Hannah should’ve known when to back down and when to keep that pretty mouth of hers shut, but he couldn’t fault her for defending Irene, or for sticking to her guns when she thought the road was the best route to Rock Creek. She was wrong, but hell... she didn’t know that.
And she carried a flask under her skirt. Hot damn. He wondered if she kept the flask tucked against her thigh with a red garter. He could well imagine something racy and forbidden beneath that prim and plain skirt of hers.
Hannah mumbled something incoherent in her sleep and raked her cheek up and down against his arm as she tried to get cozy. She squirmed a little, then hugged his arm and settled i
nto her deep sleep again.
Dying firelight danced on her face. Her lips parted slightly; her eyelashes fluttered. Resting, completely relaxed, she was a lot prettier than when she pursed her lips, and wrinkled her nose, and narrowed her eyes. And even then...
Her looks were different. Not exotic, not sweetly pretty, not ordinary in any way. When she relaxed like this her face had a charming quality he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was the lush mouth, he supposed, or the curve of her soft cheek, or the impish cant to her nose.
Ah, he’d like to get a good, long look at the garter on Hannah’s thigh. He’d like to take her to bed for a week and discover what other kinds of interesting secrets she kept. Unfortunately, Hannah Winters wasn’t the kind of woman a man bedded for a week and then walked away from, and that was the only kind of woman Jed had any use for.
* * *
Rock Creek was a definite disappointment. Hannah sighed tiredly as she finally caught sight of the small, dusty town. She was covered in dust herself, her arms ached from carrying the bags, and her feet and legs could certainly not go on much longer. She’d tried to twist her hair into a proper bun that morning, after awakening to discover herself clasping and resting against Jed’s arm, but a number of strands fell soft and straight about her face. She exhaled and puffed away the hair that had fallen about her nose.
Fortunately for her, Jed had been sound asleep when she’d awakened just before dawn, and so had everyone else. No one had seen her sleeping in such an improper position. If Jed Rourke knew he’d certainly taunt her!
Tall and imposing and silent, Jed led them into town and directly down the center of the main thoroughfare. That weathered hat was perched on his head again, the worn brim sheltering his face from the sun and his startling blue eyes from her inspection.
The stagecoach driver broke away from the group and headed for the stage office, promising everyone that the company would collect their belongings from the abandoned stagecoach.
Without hesitating, Jed escorted the rest of them to the Paradise Hotel, which at three-stories high was the tallest structure in town but for the church bell tower.
Hannah struggled to catch up before Jed deposited them and went on his way. She should thank him, shouldn’t she? He had been quite efficient in these trying circumstances.
But before she reached Jed, he dropped the bags he’d carried from Wishing Rock to Rock Creek on the floor of the hotel lobby, and a beautiful young woman who’d been dusting the front counter squealed and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Jed lifted her off the ground and laughed as she kissed him on the cheek.
Unexpectedly, Hannah’s heart fell. He’d never said he was married, but then she’d never asked. She should have at least suspected as much.
Not that it made one iota of difference to her if Jed Rourke was married or not.
Jed placed the beautiful woman on her feet and turned to face the haggard traveling party.
“Eden, honey, I brought you a whole passel of folks to be fed and fixed.” Jed grinned warmly at the blond woman, and Hannah saw something that made her heart ache. He loved her.
“Mrs. Reynolds is here to visit her son. We’ll have to send someone out to his ranch to let them know she’s arrived.” He winked at the older woman. “I imagine she’ll want a nap and a bath while she’s waiting.”
“Bless you, Mr. Rourke,” Mrs. Reynolds said as she fell onto a green sofa in the middle of the lobby.
“Irene here should have someone waiting for her,” Jed continued. “Her pa’s probably worried sick.”
Irene leaned shyly forward. “No, I left school at the spur of the moment,” she whispered. “No one is expecting me.”
Jed’s disapproval showed in his narrowed eyes. “Well, we’ll get word to your folks, too, and let them know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Jed, his arm still draped casually around the blonde’s shoulders, turned to the gambler next. “And this is...”
“Mr. Wyndham has been a guest here before,” Eden said in a sweet voice that was only slightly distressed. “Your usual room?” she asked.
Wyndham nodded tiredly and trudged toward the desk to collect a key. Without a word of thanks he headed for the stairs.
When Jed’s eyes landed on Hannah, the light in them faded, just a little. “And what about you, Miss Winters? Will you and Bertie be staying here or with your sister?”
“Here, I think,” she said calmly. “From everything Rose has said about her home in previous letters, I don’t think she’ll have room for us.” Besides, she’d be more comfortable with her own living quarters. Twelve years! Living with Rose would be like moving in on top of a complete stranger.
The blonde, Jed’s Eden, left his side and approached Hannah with a smile. “Well, I’m dying to hear how all this came about, but I have a feeling the story will be better told on top of a bath, a nap, and a good meal.”
Hannah wanted to hate Eden, for being so disgustingly sweet and considerate and beautiful, for throwing her arms around Jed’s neck with such careless abandon.
“And you’re Rose’s sister?” Eden’s blue eyes softened with what appeared to be sympathy. “My goodness, she must’ve written you about the...”
“Hold it,” Jed snapped, his voice low. “Eden, turn around again. Slowly.” There was a touch of menace in his voice.
Eden complied, turning slowly to face him.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?”
“Just three months,” Eden answered with a warm smile. “I’m surprised you can tell.”
Jed grumbled something obscene.
“Watch your language, Jedidiah,” Eden said in a low voice.
Amazingly enough, the vulgarity ceased.
Hannah had no desire to see the rest of this charming scene play out. “If you’ll just tell me which rooms are available,” she said, “I’d really like to... lie down a moment.” Her head swam, just a little. The tiring events were catching up with her in a hurry. “Connecting rooms would be ideal, but adjoining will be sufficient.”
Jed lifted his hand, pointing a stilling finger at her. “Just a minute,” he snapped. “I’m not finished.” He pinned cold, blue eyes on Eden. “I’m gonna kill him,” he said. “That son of a bitch knocked you up again!”
Hannah was suddenly riveted by the conversation. She’d definitely missed something....
Eden gave Hannah a long, warm smile. “Please forgive my brother. Jedidiah insists on treating me as if I were twelve, and since he has no qualms about voicing his strongest feelings on any given subject in front of anyone who happens to be present, well, it can be quite embarrassing.”
Brother. Hannah barely withheld a sigh of relief, then silently chastised herself for that welcome comfort. Jed Rourke’s life was none of her business. None at all. Still, he was a fascinating man. Any woman might find herself vaguely interested.
Eden turned to Jed with a serene smile. “The children will be so glad to see you, and you won’t recognize Fiona. Your niece has grown a foot since you were here last.”
Jed’s face softened, just a little. “How’s Teddy getting on with that rifle I gave him?”
Eden wrinkled her nose. “Very well, or so Sin tells me. I can’t stand to watch when he goes out to target practice. Whatever possessed you to give a weapon to a child?”
Jed smiled, and when he did Hannah could see the resemblance she’d missed before. Fair hair, blue eyes, and that smile. Of course, Jed was well over a foot taller than his sister, and where she was tiny and delicate he was broad and rugged.
“He won’t be a child much longer, Eden,” Jed said softly. “The boy’s growing up.”
“Your rooms,” Eden said, dismissing Jed’s argument and stepping behind the long front desk to fetch two keys. “These are the nicest I have available. They don’t connect, but are side by side on the second floor.”
Hannah took the keys from
Eden’s hand, and their eyes met.
“You were going to say something about my sister?” Hannah reminded her. “Is something wrong?”
Eden’s smile faded, and her eyes flicked over Hannah’s shoulder to find Jed. “Oh dear, I guess you haven’t heard,” she said softly. “Rose’s husband, Baxter, has been arrested for the murder of Reverend Clancy.”
Chapter 4
Jed was waiting outside the schoolhouse when the students were dismissed. Standing in the school yard with his arms crossed, his legs spread, and his countenance stony, the students who ran from the building gave him wide berth.
All but Millie, who ran straight for him and leaped into his arms, knowing she would be well caught. And Teddy and Rafe, who grinned widely and greeted him with open joy.
He’d never liked kids much, but there was something about these three orphans Eden and Sullivan had taken in and made their own that got to him. They’d made him their Uncle Jed; they’d accepted him, after some initial contention, as family.
He kissed Millie on the cheek and marveled at how she’d grown. When he placed her back on her feet he ruffled Rafe’s pale brown strands and told him, yet again, that when he was older he’d get his own rifle, and then he shook hands with Teddy, who at twelve years of age was already getting too old for publicly affectionate greetings from his uncle.
Damn, the boy had grown. Just a couple of years ago he’d been skinny and short. And silent. Teddy would never be a chatterbox, but he did speak these days. He even occasionally smiled.
Millie took Jed’s hand and tugged on it as she headed away from the school. “Let’s go. No school until Monday! I want to hear all about where you’ve been and who you met and what kinds of adventures you had while you were away.” She jumped up and down as she tried to pull him along.
Millie had always been an exuberant, loving child, and she adored hearing his stories when he landed in Rock Creek for a while. Rafe, who at ten was a year older than Millie, always listened intently, too, so to keep things interesting Jed usually embellished the stories. Just a little.
He’d never been able to fool Teddy, though.
Jed (The Rock Creek Six Book 4) Page 4
