by Tanya Hanson
Jessy Belle considered the prospect. It was scary, not having a voice, but this way, she’d never have to answer to anybody. Right now, she was too tired and puny to invent a full-on sham, and she couldn’t very well tell the truth.
Playing forgetful was a right fine idea, too.
She shrugged, hoping he’d understand.
“All righty. You get some rest now,” Cleeland Redd said with a smile. “Now, my mutt could use some exercise but he’s accustomed to riding in that very spot. You like some company?”
Even her sore neck couldn’t stop her nods. A dog! Oh, she’d wanted one her whole life through. She held off a tremble, Pa shooting strays while he laughed. Claimed a pet was nothing but a fursack full of fleas and infection. And life with Ahab of course, with no chance to settle down anywhere, hadn’t given her a chance to hug or love anything.
Not even her brother.
Right now, the dog jumped up into the wagon and made himself at home by her side. Her heart melted. His fur wasn’t full of anything bad at all, other than dust and a burr. She put her hand on him. The warmth and softness of a childhood lost tickled her skin. And her heart melted again, this time not in a good way, when she remembered all the bad years.
Dagnab, most of her years had been bad, some way or other. She’d turned eighteen last week. It was high time for some good ones.
Cleeland Redd peered down at the two of them, and she took a few careful peeks at him from under the brim of the chewed-up straw hat. With his long dark hair trimmed neat at the ends, he was most good-looking. A moustache hugged his lip, and eyes the color of whiskey winked in the sun.
Then and there, she realized the truth. No man of evil character would ever be delivering goods to a passel of nuns. And sure as tarnation, nobody in Ahab’s employ would be carting around boxes of slates and books.
She smiled in sudden joy at the day’s outcome. She was alive. And for the first time in her life, in the company of a handsome, decent man. She’d never found a hidden spring, but she had found deliverance.
Cleeland Redd smiled slowly back. For a flash, his lids dropped over his eyes just like they might do as he fell asleep.
Hmmmm. Thinking of him asleep beside her flew butterflies and bumblebees in her stomach. Despite her pains, she felt a funny little tingle in a place she only thought about once a month, and then only because of the mess.
This now, this feeling was nice, and she’d like more of it. Starting with her pa way back when, no one of the male persuasion had ever been nice to her before. Leastways not without wanting something from her she didn’t want to give.
Then her heart started a sad tremble, almost like it was breaking in two. A man this kind and fine-looking would already have staked a claim on a real-live respectable woman somewhere.
Right then a new thought birthed itself inside her brain. Jessy Belle knew what she had to do even though the plan started up her tears. When they got to the mission, she’d join that group of nuns.
Last place on earth Ahab would come searching for her was a church.
Chapter Two
With the creek mumbling nearby, Renegade set off to explore. Night fell after a sunset turned the rocks gold, like those fairy tales about El Dorado.
Redd lit a fire. The evening had grown surprisingly cold and the scent of brewing Arbuckle’s filled the air. He needed something to help him stay awake and keep watch. Rumors had the Ahab Perkins gang meandering the ’Zona territory, and he had two fine mules for the nuns and his own calico to protect. ’Course the mutt would raise a fine ruckus if need be.
Damn horse thieves. Ought to be strung up, each and every one. And he’d heard lately they’d taken to robbing stagecoaches and passersby. Those fool dime novels just kept spreading their names and exploits like they were natural things.
Along with the animals, he now had a sick, scared woman to tend. She’d slept, the wagon wheels rocking her like a baby, but even then, she’d groaned the whole way. Tears dropped down her cheeks with her bad dreams.
Now she stirred and from his place by the fire, he saw her head pop over the side of the wagon.
“How do, ma’am,” he said, polite, and looked over at the supper he’d made her. He’d washed down jerky and hardtack with tipples of whiskey and creek water, but reckoned such a meal would discomfort her throat. So he’d busted the ’tack into pieces and soaked them with the last of his flask. The mush would go down easy, the whiskey would help her sleep the night through.
But first things first.
“Let me help you down, ma’am,” he said, heat rising at what he had to say next. “Figure you might be needing some privacy by this time.”
He nodded toward a thicket of sagebrush. In the firelight, shadows flickered into gray circles underneath her eyes. She swallowed like it still hurt and reached for him.
When she hit the ground, her legs stood steady, which surprised him. She might be small and scared, but she was no feeble ninny. All by herself, she walked to the bushes, and he turned his back like a gentleman ought. She was shivering, though.
Pulling the blanket from the wagon, he found himself pleased with her warmth and scent still on it. When she got back to him, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and said, “Let’s get you set up by the fire. I got something for you to eat. It isn’t much, but it’ll calm you down and warm you up.”
He backed her down against the saddle on the ground, upon which he’d been leaning, and answered the question in her eyes.
“Yep, I’m driving this mule team and wagon to the mission for keeps. But my mustang Snapper’s along with us. So’s I can ride him back to my ranch outside Whisper Ridge, I lug my saddle along in the wagon.”
Hearing his name, the calico nickered in the dark.
“Got him and the mules ground-tethered just thataway, close to the water.” He pointed into the shadows, knowing right where the animals nuzzled the ground. His eyes were as good at night as they were by day. Scouting for Redd had been a natural occupation, just like breathing. But he didn’t miss it. Not for a second. Not after Tawana, and the buffalo, and all the other slaughter he’d seen.
“Snap follows the wagon by day, or runs on ahead for a bit. You’ll see him up close tomorrow. We’ll get to the mission by mid-morn,” he went on, knowing though that he’d keep his horse tied behind the wagon tomorrow if there was thieves about.
Her back was tense against the saddle, but she attacked the crude meal he’d made her with a bit of zeal. Redd was glad she could eat at all.
“Yep, my Snapper likes to run free on occasion, but he never goes far from me.” He had to laugh as he settled next to his guest. “A rogue, he was. Wild and free as the wind on the Plains. Named him Whippersnapper, as he was none but a colt. Roped him in from a wild herd and broke him myself. Sang to him plenty, but he snapped at me plenty during it all. But now we are the best of friends.”
He peered at her. Her face had come to life now although he disliked the trails of her tears. After a while he’d get her some creek water for a wash-up. Even though she couldn’t talk, he felt they were conversing right as rain.
“You know horseflesh?” he asked politely, then got serious. “Me and Renegade, now, we’ll be a bit more wakeful tonight. Heard talk the Ahab Perkins gang’s been prowling around these parts.”
At that, she choked with a gurgling sound, and he handed her his canteen.
“Take it easy on your throat, ma’am,” he warned, then tried to chuckle. “We got that whole creek next door, but don’t need to cause your innards any disquiet. And don’t you worry yourself about that Perkins gang. I take care of my own. Although…”
With a nod, he slowed, considering the possibilities as he sipped some Arbuckle’s, “…although there is a righteous reward out on each and every one of those hooligans. Such cash would go mighty far in completing my needs for my ranch if I were to track them down.”
Then she burst into tears.
Likely his mention of outlaws al
armed her gentle sensibilities after her violent attack. Feeling awkward, he took a deep breath and ended up communicating in a soothing tone he hadn’t used in years.
“Now, now, ma’am. Forgive such talk. Things are all right. I won’t go speaking any more things so distressing to your feminine feelings.” Like a pa, he patted her arm.
Likely the horrors of her day had caught up with her, now with night upon her. Darkness was always a time when demons slid into his own mind and dreams. Even in the gloom around him now, he didn’t mind admitting to a quiver of unrest. But he’d held onto his Army issue Colt .45 Peacemaker, slung a Bowie at his belt. Had kept a knife in his boot since he was a tad of eight. That was when Ma married The Devil.
And maybe if he kept himself thinking on this young woman’s tragedy, the sorrow over Tawana would keep away for once. Somehow darkness and loneliness always wed up with each other just at bedtime, breaking his heart worse than the first time.
By then, the girl was shaking so hard he pulled her against his chest. Her heart pounded against his beneath the blanket bundling her. One of her arms climbed around his neck, the other hugged his back. It was nice, holding a woman in his arms again. Until he remembered the dangers of giving away his heart.
Not to mention his vow of faithfulness to Tawana.
But this poor girl trembled so hard she might be a rickety tree in a winter wind. He didn’t resist putting his lips against her hair, mumbling words, not of love, but of peace and comfort.
Words promising her again and again that everything would be all right.
“Let’s get you tucked into bed,” he said finally, able to get to his feet with her in his arms. “I’ll be right close by, all night long. Whatever you need.”
After he settled her in the wagon, he set to secure the animals. “Now, ’Gade, it’s up to you to keep us safe. You sound the alarum, boy, you hear?”
Then he couldn’t help laughing. He wasn’t all by himself anymore. His passenger must think him right addled to keep conversation with a dog.
Checking her face, he saw it once again twisted with tears. And she was shaking hard as ever. That blanket pushed up to her ears wasn’t doing the trick. Truth was, the night was colder than last. He had no choice.
After poking between his teeth with his knife tip and chewing on some river grass, he rinsed his mouth and washed his face. Then he hopped in the wagon and settled himself beside her. He meant no disrespect. Two bodies were warmer than one.
A heat long forgotten seeped into his bones, crept into the notch of his legs, that place of wonder that Tawana hadn’t gotten to know. His chest hurt. They hadn’t had time for much at all.
And he scolded his unruly brain. Likely his passenger belonged to some other man, same as himself still belonging to Tawana. He reined in his feelings.
Then he remembered The Devil who had been his mother’s legal mate. She might be running from such a fiend.
Truth to tell, the safest place for her was that convent up ahead. Safest for him, too. He felt snowed under by his feelings.
Not just as protector, but as a man.
****
The air was cool, the morning sun warm on her face when Jessy Belle woke up, her backside spooned up against Cleeland Redd. His arms held her tight, clasping together just under her bosoms.
She shivered but with heat. My God, had he spent the whole night next to her? Even if he had, she had no fear that he’d taken advantage. He’d promised to keep her safe from her own brother and he was friends with nuns.
Besides. Even with the sun’s warmth, her face boiled. She knew down to her bones a man like Cleeland Redd would make sure a woman remembered a night of his loving.
Truth was, Cleeland Redd beat out any other male she’d ever known just with his behavior alone. Even on the trail, he kept himself clean and presentable, hadn’t cussed once or chawed tobacco or treated the critters mean. Or worst of all, passed wind.
All she wanted was to cuddle up next to him to sleep forever, get full of more of those deep down good feelings from yesterday that were simmering new. Right now she could feel a ridge of hardness against her back and reckoned she knew just what it was.
She snuggled against him like she had a right to. The air was still cold from the night just past. Then the thought of those nuns came crashing back. Yesterday she’d vowed to become one of them, for safekeeping. And that meant she couldn’t have a man at all.
Surviving a noose hadn’t made life easier one single bit. She didn’t dare bring Ahab’s wrath down on this man’s head. Besides, he might already have a woman or a wife.
Something like jealousy burned for a long sad minute.
Sitting up in the wagon, she couldn’t help a grin as she looked down at him. He could keep watch sleeping tight as a baby? Then she saw the mules and mustang tied safe to the wagon, Renegade standing guard. With dismay, she remembered her outburst, and him drawing her close.
Him asking her if she knew horseflesh.
Her eyes closed, hopeless. She knew it so well she could collect the best from a livery in pitch dark. But that was over. Now she was grown up and respectable. With his fine ways and manners, Cleeland Redd need never know of her wasted youth as an outlaw and pickpocket.
Yes, indeed, she had to keep herself a secret for many reasons. Cleeland Redd had announced his interest in the reward money. And likely there would be a hefty price on her head if that grave of hers was ever dug up empty.
At that second, his gaze met hers. She felt that strange warmth down below where those places of mystery grew tense, wet even. Even underneath her camisole, her bosoms tightened worse than the days she’d bound herself with canvas to seem a boy.
He smiled back. “Feeling better?”
She nodded, but the sounds from her craw were still too soft to form words. Like before, she flapped her hands at her chest, but mostly kept down a new sob, wished she’d been a decent woman and they’d met under regular circumstances.
“We’ll get those nuns to doctor you up.” He stretched, long and lazy. Like waking up with her wasn’t such a disgraceful thing to do.
Maybe that meant he was unattached himself.
Well, she wasn’t. That convent was a dagnabbed good idea.
“I’m fine.” She mouthed the words, figuring he could see the shapes. “Breakfast?”
“You got a name?” he asked then, sitting up as she hopped down. Her feet hit the ground strong, but she figured she shouldn’t have tried to commune with him if he was so set on finding out things of a personal nature. For a while, she ought to act like she’d lost her mind somewhat, seem weak and addled. That would give her time aplenty to make herself presentable with one little made-up fact at a time.
Reaching back inside the wagon, she grabbed a slate and a bag of chalk from the box of supplies. Thank the good Lord Mama had prevailed, teaching Jessy Belle to read and write when Pa wasn’t looking. Lazy and ignorant, Ahab had taken right after Pa.
Truth was, one of her jobs had been clipping articles whenever the gang had been featured in a newspaper. Another had been reading aloud the childish dime novels that made light of Ahab’s crimes. Those tomfool stories turned him into something of a hero who simply helped innocent horses escape from evil ranchers and selfish cowboys.
Once in a while, she even wrote and posted letters to somebody special whenever any of them got sentimental.
“I know words,” she wrote as he hopped down, “but no memories.”
That simple statement ought to give her time to concoct something reasonable. Something that would inspire Cleeland Redd to think her a proper mate for him. Even though she’d already accepted a man like this having a woman already.
And even though she’d already determined herself to become a nun.
But as she held up the little slate, Cleeland Redd gave her frown and a squint. Like he’d just stepped in something he wished he hadn’t.
Her stomach growled just as her spirits sank deeper. She recalled most
of the blithering louts in Ahab’s employ. Pointing to her head and shaking it, she mouthed the words, reckoning Cleeland Redd couldn’t read. He wasn’t so perfect after all, not with a mind as lazy as her brother’s. She clucked like a mother.
He nodded. “Then I’ll call you Mary. After my mother.”
After his mother? She had to turn away, her heart pittering like schoolgirls she’d only read about. That had to mean something. Specially when it was the very name she’d picked for herself. To keep from making any significance of her thoughts, she scrabbled through the wagon and drew out a pot and a ladle and a big chunk of jerky.
“Soup,” she mouthed. She’d make him a quick meal, something to ward off the morning chill. And it’d go down easy for herself. Her throat was still ragged, all the way down her gullet.
Making meals was another way she had served the gang. She clearly remembered when Ahab had realized her growing bosoms meant she was finally a woman. And a woman cooked and cleaned for her man. In this case, men.
As she plodded around the creek bank, she liked Cleeland Redd watching her off and on while he tended the animals and kindled up the ashes. His eyes weren’t rude, unlike so many others. Renegade galloped around her skirts. Maybe in a storybook or another life they’d have been a real couple waking up after a campout with their dog along for the ride.
With their babe nurturing inside her.
Her face burned in spite of the cool morning. Where in hell had such an unruly thought come from?
Then she chided herself for cussing. After all, she was a woman of morals now.
And soon to be a nun. Her heart busted a little.
After filling the pot with creek water, she took her knife and chopped up some wild onions and sage leaves, threw in the jerky, and set it to heat over the fire. Then she dug around the wagon for some flour and baking powder and a Dutch oven.
Even an outlaw woman knew how to brew up beaten biscuits.
****
Redd’s heart sank to the bottom of the earth. Past China. Into hell. Was she going to want to talk to him in written words all the rest of the way?
