Jed (The Rock Creek Six Book 4)

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “I don’t know if Rose will agree....”

  “I won’t have her or the boys watch me hang,” he interrupted. “Promise me.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Promise.”

  She nodded once. “All right. You have my word.”

  Baxter laid back on the narrow cot and covered his eyes with his arm. He had already given up.

  “There’s still a chance that you’ll be found innocent,” she said, trying to inject some hope into her own voice.

  “I don’t think so,” he said in an expressionless voice. “I appreciate you trying, Hannah, I really do, but all you can do for me now is get Rose and the twins out of town when it’s over.”

  She wanted to reason with him, but in truth she had no argument. “If you remember anything, send the sheriff to me with a message. I’ll come right away.”

  “Thanks, Hannah,” he said, never lifting that concealing arm from his face.

  She was not surprised to find Jed in the sheriff’s outer office, sitting on the edge of Sullivan’s desk and talking in a low voice.

  All her frustration, all her anger, coalesced into a white hot ball of pain that centered in her midsection. “As you can see, no one’s killed me yet.”

  “Good for you,” he said plainly.

  She turned her attention to the sheriff. “Don’t you feed your prisoners? Baxter looks like a scarecrow!”

  “I take him food three times a day. I can’t make him eat,” Sullivan said sensibly.

  She’d started with such good intentions, but all her plans had fallen apart. It pained her to know she wasn’t going to be able to find the real killer. Damnation, she was not equipped for such a task. Jed and Sullivan, their friends Reese and Rico... If they set their minds to finding the real killer they could no doubt do so. Once again she had fallen short.

  If she could make anyone understand, it would be Jed. She turned her eyes to him, trying to smother her frustration. “He’s innocent. I swear it.”

  Jed shook his head. “I know you believe that...”

  “I believe it because it’s true,” she interrupted.

  “Hannah...” he began.

  She could hear the censure in his voice. She needed to hear no more.

  “Your old friend cries on your shoulder and bats her lashes at you and just like a man you fall for her artifice without a second thought. She... She begs you to see that a man hangs for a crime he did not commit, and you pat her on the head and say ‘Of course, sugarplum.’” Hannah reached out and smacked Jed on his chest with the flat of her hand. “If I cried and batted my lashes and told you Baxter was innocent, would you believe me then? What exactly does it take, Jedidiah Rourke, to get through that thick skull of yours?”

  He was not at all moved by her impassioned plea. “I don’t believe what Sylvia said because she cried and batted her damned lashes. You’re the one who’s looking at everything all cockeyed.” He pointed an accusing finger in her face.

  “Don’t shake that finger at me,” she demanded.

  “I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” he seethed.

  “Keep shaking that finger at me and I’ll break it off.”

  “Try and you’ll be picking your ass up off the floor before you know what happened.”

  Sullivan cleared his throat. “Am I going to have to lock both of you up?”

  Jed dropped his hand and Hannah took a step back. “I just can’t believe,” she said softly, “that I’m going to have to watch the wrong man hang.”

  With that, she spun about and left the sheriff’s office. Jed was right behind her.

  * * *

  Keeping Hannah at a distance for the past several days had been a good idea. She took care of her little investigation, and he watched. So far she’d minded her manners, and he hadn’t been called upon to step in on her behalf.

  She was in a huff now, stalking toward the hotel with her nose in the air and her spine straight... and just a little wiggle in her hips. He smiled at her back. If she knew how good she looked stalking away in a huff, she’d likely change her style.

  Eden thought he needed a sweet, young girl. Jed knew better. If he ever decided to settle down, he’d take a saucy woman like Hannah over a piece of fluff any day.

  Of course, he had no intention of settling down, so it didn’t make much sense to ponder the possibilities. Still, as Hannah stalked away he pondered. He most definitely pondered.

  Movement to the right caught his eye. Oliver Jennings, the cowboy who’d drawn his gun on Hannah last week, was walking down the boardwalk. Their paths, if Jed calculated correctly, would bring them face-to-face right about the hotel entrance.

  The mood Hannah was in, she was unlikely to yield way to the cowboy. Jennings was a hothead, but he was basically a good enough kid. Jed really, really didn’t want to have to shoot the boy.

  “Hannah,” he called.

  She stopped in the street. Hesitated. Then turned slowly. “Yes?”

  She stood there, cane in hand and chin high, as he approached. “You need to cool off. Let’s take a walk.”

  “I do not need to cool off, and the wind has picked up. It’s too cold for a...” She stopped midsentence, and it seemed her face fell, just a little. God in heaven, she looked lost. “All right,” she conceded. “Maybe a leisurely stroll wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  This time, instead of following, he walked beside her. Jennings passed safely by, casting a sharp glance in their direction, and then Jed led Hannah through the hotel lobby and out the back door. They walked down the garden path, then through the gate at the back of the garden.

  Leisurely stroll? Hannah’s step was purposeful and determined as she strode away from the heart of town. There was nothing leisurely about her pace or her demeanor. She remained silent. It just wasn’t natural.

  Finally, a decent distance from the hotel, she stopped. The tip of the cane tapped nervously at her feet, and a gust of wind whipped a strand of red hair loose and lashed it across her pale face.

  “When Baxter first began to call on Rose,” she began, her voice soft but strong, “there was talk of war. Most of the men were quite... tireless about the subject, but Baxter never had much to say. I thought it was simply because he didn’t want to distress Rose. My sister has always been delicate,” she explained. “From the beginning, the talk of war disturbed her.”

  Smart woman, Jed thought, but he kept his mouth closed. He didn’t want to interrupt Hannah, not now.

  “When the time came to fight, Baxter refused. He had no desire to go to war, so he packed up to move West. When he asked my father for Rose’s hand, my father refused, saying that if Rose left the house with a traitor like Baxter, she’d go with nothing but the clothes on her back.” She paused, and it seemed her cheeks paled, even in this brisk, cool wind. “Baxter and Rose eloped that night, and my father, true to his word, declared that Rose was no longer his daughter.”

  Hannah looked squarely at Jed, with piercing, intelligent eyes. “Baxter didn’t refuse to fight as a moral or societal protest. He was simply afraid of killing and being killed. My father said he was a coward. Knowing what I do of you, I imagine you agree.” Her eyes pleaded with him; her lips went soft and... tempting. “Would a man who refused to fight, who gave up a small fortune—Rose’s share in the plantation—and moved West to escape it, stand over a seated man and stab him in the heart?”

  “I know it’s hard to understand, but where a woman is involved...”

  Hannah’s eyes hardened. “Oh, I don’t buy that poppycock. Baxter loved Rose, yes, but to kill for her? Over some crude, rejected advances?”

  “Are you sure the advances were rejected?” he asked calmly.

  She didn’t smack him with her cane; she slapped him soundly on the cheek.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Hannah raised that same hand to brush back the red hair that danced across her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning her back on him and heading with a
quick step back the way they’d come.

  Jed followed, staying directly behind her. “That’s all right. Sometimes nothing makes you feel better than hitting the person who’s just pissed you off.”

  “It didn’t make me feel better,” she said firmly. “And you didn’t piss me off.” She didn’t hesitate or prissily reword his statement. “I’m just incredibly frustrated. I’ve never handled frustration well,” she added lowly.

  His eyes fell to watch the sway of her hips. “Neither have I,” he grumbled.

  “Rose and Baxter are counting on me, and I’m going to fail miserably.”

  He caught up with her, and after a moment’s hesitation he draped his arm around her shoulder. She tensed, but didn’t pull away. “You’re doing the best you can,” he said. “More than anyone else would.”

  “Baxter wants me to take Rose and the boys out of town before he hangs, if he’s found guilty. He doesn’t want them to see... to watch...” For the first time, Hannah’s voice trembled and broke.

  And for the first time, Jed realized that Hannah wasn’t going to be here forever. The trial was on Monday. If Baxter was found guilty and sentenced to hang, would she load up Rose and the kids and be out of town that same afternoon?

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said, already planning how he might try to cheer her up; if all went well and she didn’t call him a mannerless barbarian, he might even walk her to her room and kiss her good night at the door.

  If she weren’t a lady, he’d be planning ways to get past that door tonight.

  “No,” she said softly. “I’m not hungry.” As she pulled away from him and went through the garden gate he considered arguing with her. He didn’t.

  * * *

  She had managed to avoid almost everyone for a full day. Hannah Winters, who never gave up, who never backed down, didn’t know what to do next. She was, for the first time in her life, completely and totally lost.

  And to make matters worse, Eden Sullivan had decided to hold a gathering of friends in the lobby of the hotel. Hannah had tried to gently decline the offer, but Eden was insistent.

  Hannah got the feeling that no one refused Eden Sullivan.

  She’d make an appearance, do her best to be polite, and then retire early. Claiming exhaustion would not be a lie. Still, she took the time to don her best blue silk and to fix her hair. There was no reason to become shabby just because she happened to be residing, for the moment, in a shabby little town.

  By the time she descended the stairs, the party was well underway. Eden had laid refreshments on the long front counter, and the friends in the room talked and laughed softly, with the kind of camaraderie one found among close friends and the kind of family Hannah herself had never known. The sheriff stood behind his wife, his arms wrapped loosely but protectively around her. Mary Reese and her husband, who was the most unlikely looking schoolteacher Hannah had ever seen, sat side by side on the green sofa, and Lily Salvatore, dressed for the performance she would give later in the evening at her entertainment house, sat in a fat green chair with her handsome husband, Rico, standing behind her, his hands placed proprietarily on her shoulders.

  Jed sat in a matching chair, his long legs thrust before him casually as he laughed at something Rico had said. He still wore his buckskin duster, as if he were prepared to stand up and depart at any moment.

  When he lifted his head and saw her standing on the stairway, his laughter died.

  Oh, she was a fool for not insisting that she did not want to attend this gathering! Turning and running now would make her look like a ninny, though, so she continued down the stairs with all the grace she could muster.

  Everyone was paired up, everyone but her and Jed. How mortifying.

  She had met everyone present, and out of the entire crowd she had only managed to annoy Sheriff Sullivan. And Jed, of course.

  The mood sombered a little as she walked into the midst of them all. They were all thinking of Baxter, she imagined. Well, she wouldn’t stay long. Once she was gone they could resume their merriment unimpeded.

  Jed stood and offered her his chair, a gallant move that, for some reason, made Rico and Reese grin wickedly. Hannah ignored them. She didn’t know them well, but they were probably ill-mannered cretins like their friend Jed.

  Eden poured a cup of punch and handed it to Hannah, but Hannah declined the offered sweets. She hadn’t been able to eat much in the past three days. Her stomach was tied in knots.

  Hannah sipped her punch and sat back to listen. Rico and Lily talked about their business. Apparently Lily had made significant changes in Three Queens since coming to Rock Creek.

  Mary and Reese talked about the school and the children there and their own Georgie, and Reese even commented that the Sutton boys seemed to be maturing, at last. Hannah withheld a despairing sigh. Her blackmail had worked so well.

  Eden and Sullivan talked with great affection about the baby that would be born early in the summer. Goodness, they already had four children, but they seemed truly ecstatic about this one. The way they looked at each other and touched so easily and familiarly was strikingly tender. They would probably reproduce until the hotel was filled, Hannah thought with a touch of rancor and more than a touch of envy.

  She listened until the room started to swim and her heart pounded. The voices surrounding her became harsh and meaningless. Her skin felt suddenly hot, her cheeks flushed. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt trapped and nervous and downright ill; she only knew she had to get out of there. Now.

  Standing slowly, she used her cane for real support. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said when all eyes turned to her. “I think I need a breath of fresh air.”

  Without looking at any one of the curious people surrounding her, she headed for the back door and the fresh garden air that would surely bring her to her senses.

  She heard the hum of lowered voices behind her as she stepped outside and closed the door, and with her eyes closed she took a deep breath of cold air. When the door opened, a moment later, she knew without looking that it was Jed who had followed her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  She started to say “Yes, of course,” but couldn’t make herself lie to him. Everyone else, maybe, but not Jed. “Have you ever failed miserably?”

  “Yep,” he answered without hesitation.

  “I haven’t,” she whispered. “Until now. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’ve done everything you can.” His voice was low and soothing. “It’s time to sit back and let the chips fall where they will.”

  She shook her head but remained silent. How could she?

  “It’s cold out here,” Jed said. She expected him to try to herd her back inside, but he didn’t. He took off his buckskin coat and draped it over her shoulders. The coat was heavy, and on her short frame the hem hung to the ground. It enveloped her, cocooned her. The warmth, from the coat and the man who had been wearing it, seeped into her with a gratifying rush of heat.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You look like you have a headache,” he said, and before she could protest, he lifted his big hand and laid it on her, cupping her neck. With gentle fingers he began to massage her neck the way she’d massaged his, when he’d had a headache himself.

  She knew she should protest, tell him to take his hand off of her this instant, but like the buckskin jacket, that hand was intensely comforting. She closed her eyes and savored the sensations. His touch was so warm, strong and yet gentle, familiar and soothing.

  When her headache began to fade, she whispered, “Christmas is coming in less than two weeks, and my nephews might have to watch their father hang before the holiday arrives.” The very idea made her heart lurch in her chest. “All my life I’ve bought what I wanted and needed, but I can’t buy justice for my family.”

  Jed moved his hand from her neck to her shoulder, and forced her to turn around and face him. She didn’t falter, but tilted her head
back to look him in the eye without fear. Even in soft moonlight he was craggy and rough, all bristles and granite. How could such a man possess such a tender touch?

  “Let it go, Hannah,” he whispered.

  “I can’t.”

  “You’ve done everything possible, more than anyone else would have.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  Jed took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Even if Baxter is found guilty, he might not hang. The sentence is up to the judge. If I say a few words in his behalf, maybe the judge will go easy on him.”

  “Easy how?”

  “Prison,” Jed whispered.

  Baxter wouldn’t last long in prison, and they both knew it. Still, it was kind of him to offer.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  For a long, very still moment, Jed stared down at her. She didn’t look away; she didn’t play coy. Not with Jed. Finally his head began to move, almost imperceptibly, toward hers. Dipping and slanting, bending until his face was lost in shadow. Hannah held her breath. He was going to kiss her.

  Oh, she wanted him to kiss her. There was no reason for her desire, no logical explanation for the yearning that filled her. No matter how she tried to reason it away, that yearning remained, strong and steady.

  She allowed her eyes to drift shut. She held her breath. Heavens, she could feel him moving slowly, inexorably closer.

  The door opened before his lips met hers, and they each took a quick step back. Hannah’s eyes flew open.

  Of all the people in the world...

  “Jed,” Sylvia crooned, “Eden said you were out here.”

  “Nice of her,” Jed grumbled.

  “I have to talk to you,” the widow said softly, casting a murderous glance at Hannah.

  Suddenly the air was cold again. “Your coat,” Hannah said succinctly, whipping off the buckskin and handing it to Jed.

  If he had anything to say in response, she didn’t hear it. She shut out everything and entered the hotel lobby, said a quick good night to the folks who were still gathered around the green sofa, and climbed the stairs.