Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  "No, I won't give you any arguments," she answered in a subdued voice.

  His burning look surveyed her flushed face, her kiss-swollen mouth, and he smiled, his eyes filled with latent tenderness and triumph.

  Jessica allowed him his moment of glory. She clamped her teeth together and forced back the heated accusation that was on the tip of her tongue, consoling herself by re­flecting that Devlin's victory was only temporary. She was merely being wise, appearing to surrender while she was still at his mercy.

  Yet she wasn't beaten, by any means. What Devlin saw as capitulation, she saw merely as tactical retreat.

  Chapter 17

  He cradled her in his arms on their ride back. Despite the urgency of going after Purcell, Devlin tenderly put Jess to bed—which included making her drink a shot of whiskey to help her sleep. Then, after repeating his or­der for her to stay put, locking the doors, and posting her Chinese servant in the hall as an armed bodyguard, he went to fetch her father.

  The Diamond Dust Saloon was filled with cigar smoke and crowded to overflowing by a more prosperous class of clientele than most mining town saloons could boast, but there was no immediate sign of Riley. Entering the private parlor, Devlin spied the elegant figure of Ashton Burke seated at Lena's faro table, basking in the raven-haired beauty's proprietary smile. A moment later Devlin found Riley playing poker at a rear table and pulled him away.

  Riley's face turned a chalky shade of white when he learned that his daughter had been abducted by a vengeful killer and given to the notorious madam of an illicit opium den. Devlin managed to allay some of his alarm, only by swearing that Jess had come to no harm, and that she was at this moment tucked safely in her own bed, asleep. Even so, Devlin had to forcibly restrain Riley from pelting out the door at a run.

  "She's all right," Devlin reassured him. "And I left Kwan to watch over her. Right now I could use your help getting my gear together. I intend to ride after Purcell as soon as possible. I promised Jess I would deal with him, and I'd better do it if I want to keep her from going after Purcell herself."

  "Kwan's with her. you say?"

  "Yes . . . and she should be asleep by now. You won't want to wake her."

  "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

  They went up to Devlin's hotel room next door, where he changed clothes while Riley gathered up weapons and ammunition. As they worked, Devlin filled Riley in on ev­erything else Jess had learned from Purcell, including her suspicions that Purcell was part of the armed gang that had robbed the Colorado Central.

  "Makes sense," Riley commented with a thoughtful frown. "As Burke's mine foreman, he could find out when bullion shipments were going out. 'Course, most of the trains down to Denver from here would have some amount of silver."

  "Sixty thousand dollars' worth?"

  "Mmmm. Maybe not that much." Stuffing several boxes of .44 cartridges into Devlin's saddlebags, Riley changed the subject. "Are you sure it's all that smart to be going af­ter Purcell on your own? If he really is working with that gang, he could be a passel of trouble—more than you could handle on your own."

  "I'm hoping to persuade the marshal to ride with me."

  "That lily-livered coward?"

  "That's what Jess said."

  "I better go with you when you talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to me, but I doubt it. Virgil Lockwood has been in Burke's pocket since the last two elections. You might do better to get the Clear Creek County sheriff—darn. You can't. I heard Matt Nash rode over to Blackhawk yester­day."

  "I'll go alone if I have to. Purcell isn't going to get away."

  Riley nodded and started checking the contents of the bedroll. "I'm right grateful that you talked Jess out of go­ing. It scared the tarnation out of me the last time you two took off."

  "It wasn't easy getting her to stay here, I can assure you." Devlin grimaced as he remembered what he'd had to do to extract Jess's promise. "I've never met a woman as stubborn as she is. She's worse than one of Haverty's mules." A wry half smile curved his lips as he pulled on a fresh chambray shirt. "How did you raise a daughter like her anyway?"

  There was a pregnant pause. "You telling me you don't care for my Jessie?" Riley asked in a tone that held a hard edge.

  At the question, Devlin looked up to find the man studying him intently. Deciding a diplomatic reply was in order, he gave Riley a grin that had been known to charm even irate fathers. "That isn't the case, and you know it. It's just that sometimes she annoys the living daylights out of me."

  Riley's expression didn't lighten up. "I'd say the feeling is mutual. What's going on between you two, anyway? You've been at each other's throats like a pair of cats ever since the mine cave."

  "I suggest you ask your daughter."

  "I did. She wouldn't tell me." He held Devlin's gaze de­liberately. "Jess's been acting mighty strange lately. I guess maybe it's because she's in love with you."

  Devlin's grin faded abruptly. "Would you mind telling me what makes you think so?" he asked after a moment.

  "I know my daughter, Garrett. She's not the same per­son she was a month ago. She colors up like a tomato whenever she hears your name. And she was actually cussing the other day. That isn't like Jess."

  Devlin couldn't stop the sudden pounding of his heart. "That doesn't mean she's in love with me."

  "No? She'd never get so riled at somebody she only felt lukewarm toward. She either hates you or loves you, and I don't think it's hate."

  "I'm not so sure about that." He grimaced, remember­ing. "She wasn't exactly overjoyed to learn the size of my bank account. And she considered my purchasing an inter­est in the Wildstar nothing less than treason. She accused me to my face of knowing about the lode beforehand and trying to swindle you out of your money. That doesn't sound much like love to me."

  Riley's mouth curved in a faint grin. "Oh, I didn't say she likes being in love with you. Fact is, she's fighting it just as hard as she can. But I kind of hope she loses the battle. I'd be happy to have you as a son-in-law."

  Devlin sucked in his breath sharply. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"

  "Don't see any reason to. I think you ought to marry her."

  A bit stunned and a bit wary, Devlin stood there grim and unmoving, his hands halted in the process of buckling his gun belt. He knew instinctively that what Riley was telling him was true. He'd known too many women not to recognize the signs. Jessica was in love with him. He'd succeeded at least partially in his goal to make her eat her words.

  He just didn't know precisely what he intended to do about it.

  He didn't much care for being cornered this way by her father, either. But there was no way he could ignore the is­sue, stated so baldly. Riley wanted him to marry his daughter.

  He was mildly surprised when Riley did an about-face and offered him a way out.

  '"Course, if you don't love her, that's something else. Jess deserves the love of a good man." Riley began tying the leather thongs of the bedroll. "All I want is for her to be happy, and it wouldn't make her happy to have a hus­band who didn't love her . . . or who wasn't going to give up his other women and be faithful to her."

  "Are you finished?" Devlin asked abruptly, avoiding an answer as he resumed tightening his gun belt. "I need to get going."

  Riley didn't look away. "With your gear, I am," he said, implying that he wasn't done with the subject. "You may recall I told you something about my late wife, son. Burke loved Jenny Ann, but he lost her because he wouldn't marry her. So you ought to think about this long and hard—about what's really important in life. You could be the richest man in Colorado, but it won't keep you warm in winter, at least not the kind of warmth that means any­thing. Your letting Jessie get away could be the biggest mistake of your life."

  Refusing to reply, Devlin put on his hat and hefted his rifle. He knew better than most that wealth was cold com­fort. For a long, long time he'd been dissatisfied with his life. But until he'd come to Silver Plume, he'd never been so
aware of the emptiness. He realized something vital was missing—like the love and companionship Riley Sommers shared with his daughter. A relationship that was strong and enduring.

  He wanted that kind of relationship in his life, Devlin acknowledged. But his feelings for Jess were intense and complex, and he didn't want to be rushed into sorting them out. Even if he did decide to marry Jessica, he in­tended to go about it slowly. His scars ran deep. He'd been mistaken about a woman's love before, and he wasn't about to set himself up for such a fall again. He wanted to be damn sure that what he felt for her was real, and what she felt for him would last.

  When they reached the street, it was near midnight, but the music and revelry coming from the saloons and dance halls along Main Street hadn't diminished in the slightest. They fastened Devlin's saddlebags and bedroll on his horse. Riley had recovered enough from his wound to play poker but not enough to climb into a saddle without pain, so they walked the several blocks through the darkness to his small house, with Devlin leading his mount. - It became immediately clear, however, that Riley wasn't going to let the previous subject die.

  "You see, son, I don't want the same thing happening to Jess that happened to her ma. Jess shouldn't have to settle for second-best the way her ma did."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Jenny Ann wound up with me instead of Burke."

  "I doubt if anyone who knows the two of you would consider you second-best to Burke."

  "Well, Jenny Ann loved him."

  There was pain in his tone even now, Devlin noted. But then it couldn't be easy to stomach your wife loving an­other man.

  "Burke was a damn fool," Riley said with conviction, "for letting her get away. He didn't think she was good enough for him to marry."

  Devlin noted the pointed way Jess's father was looking at him. "I assure you," he replied carefully, "the notion that Jess might not be good enough to be my wife never entered my mind."

  The moonlight which etched the lines on the older man's forehead showed his concern.

  "I realize you only want your daughter's happiness," Devlin added softly, "but you're going to have to let us settle this on our own." He waited for that to sink in. When Riley slowly nodded, Devlin gave a wry smile. "Whatever way it turns out, though, I thank you for your faith in me. It's more than Jess has shown me."

  After a moment, Riley sighed. "I just don't want her tied to a loveless marriage."

  "I'll do my best to see that doesn't happen," Devlin said solemnly. "That much I can promise you."

  In the ensuing silence, Riley seemed lost in his reflec­tions. And when he spoke it was clear he was still dwell­ing on the past. "It's hell not knowing. Jenny Ann married me instead of Burke, but I never could be sure if she really loved me or if she was just making the best of the situa­tion."

  "Why else would she marry you?"

  "Because she had to."

  "Why, did her father force you two to marry?"

  "No, but—"

  Riley broke off, and there was another uncomfortable pause. Devlin had the feeling Jess's father wanted to tell him something but didn't know quite how.

  "You know," Devlin said slowly, choosing his words with care, "the first time I saw Jess and Burke together, it surprised me. The similarity in features was remarkable. They have the same color hair . . . the same nose and chin . . . the same determination."

  "You noticed that, did you?" Riley replied quietly.

  "And something else struck me as odd. Jess calls you by name instead of using 'Papa' or 'Father.' "

  There was a long pause. "I always thought you were an observant man. Nobody else ever saw the resemblance. I kept worrying that they would."

  "I take it Ashton Burke is Jess's natural father?"

  "Yes."

  The answer was so quiet that Devlin could barely hear. He wasn't really surprised to have his suspicions con­firmed. What surprised him was Riley's admitting it to him. That kind of honesty implied a great deal of trust. And something else, perhaps? The need for a sympathetic ear? His daughter's parentage wasn't something he could discuss with just anyone. Whatever, Devlin felt touched and honored that Riley had shared such a confidence. And somewhat uncomfortable, as well. He didn't like the idea of knowing such a secret and keeping it from Jess. In the past, he'd held back far more from her than he should have—which was a major bone of contention between them.

  "Jess obviously doesn't know," Devlin said pensively.

  Riley shook his head. "I never could bring myself to tell her. I thought she might come to hate me if she found out."

  "I don't think it would be possible for Jess to hate you."

  "I'm not so sure. She never has been able to abide dis­honesty. I did try to tell her the night I got shot, but she wouldn't let me talk. And I didn't try very hard afterward. I was afraid once she found out she wouldn't want to be my daughter any longer. I reckon that makes me a coward. I was afraid I'd lose her to Burke."

  "There isn't much chance of that. She despises Burke and all he stands for." Devlin gave a sardonic grin. "I should know. Jess has accused me on more than one occa­sion of being just like him."

  His attempt at lightening the conversation fell flat; Riley obviously was still trying to justify his actions to himself, if not to the man beside him.

  "Jess is more my daughter than she could ever be Ashton Burke's." It was said fiercely, with a hint of des­peration.

  "I don't doubt it."

  "There was a good reason for keeping it quiet twenty years ago," he tried to explain. "Jenny Ann didn't want anyone to know, especially Burke. That's why she married me in the first place, to keep people from finding out and to prevent a scandal—and to give her daughter a name."

  "I take it Burke doesn't know, either?"

  "There've been a few times that I've been tempted to tell him and watch him squirm. All these years he's been denying his own daughter all the fancy things he thinks are so important. And now this last. . . . He set his hired guns on his own flesh and blood." Riley shook his head. "I don't think even Burke would want to live with that."

  Devlin waited a few moments before saying quietly, "You don't think perhaps Jess has the right to make her own decisions?"

  "I suppose she does. To be honest, it would be a big re­lief for her to know. Jenny Ann left it to me to tell her if I wanted to. You think I should?"

  By then they had arrived at Riley's home. Devlin hesi­tated as he tied his horse to the porch rail. He was too in­volved to answer the question impartially. He had his own reasons for wanting Jess to know she was Burke's natural daughter. Realizing whose blood she shared might shake her up enough to make her reevaluate her fierce preju­dices, both against Burke and Devlin himself.

  Then again, it might only strengthen them.

  It hadn't escaped Devlin that his relationship with Jess wasn't so different from Burke's long-ago relationship with Jess's mother. They both had taken a young woman's innocence and been unwilling to make a commitment to her. Devlin found that a sobering, distasteful realization. Perhaps he had more in common with Burke than he wanted to admit.

  One thing was certain, though. Learning such a startling fact about herself at this late date would hurt Jessica pro­foundly.

  "I think you have to decide for yourself," Devlin said fi­nally. "I do know it would be better coming from you than someone else. If there's any chance of her discovering the truth some other way, then you should tell her now."

  Riley nodded thoughtfully as he unlocked the front door.

  Devlin frowned. The house was dark, even though a half hour ago he'd left a light burning in the hall. And when Riley had lit a lamp, he could see that Mr. Kwan was not at his appointed place.

  Worse, neither was Jess. Her bed was empty.

  A quick search of the small house gave no clue to her whereabouts. It was clear, however, that both she and her gear were gone.

  Only then did Devlin remember precisely how Jess had couched her promise to him. I won't
give you any argu­ments. Not "I won't go," or "I'll do as you say."

  Venting a choice expletive, Devlin gave her father a look Of utterly frustrated rage. Riley appeared worried and bewildered, but Devlin knew very well what had hap­pened.

  "Damn her, she's gone after Purcell!"

  She couldn't have had much of a head start. Devlin knew, but Jess's pursuit made his own that much more ur­gent. Thinking of her alone, at night, in the mountains, against a man of Purcell's stamp, was enough to make Devlin's blood run cold.

  When he declared his intention of immediately follow­ing her, however, Riley replied that he couldn't ride off half-cocked and insisted that he needed help. It would take an entire posse to bring in Purcell if he had hooked up with an outlaw gang. And they needed someone who knew the mountains. A man could hole up for weeks in the hun­dreds of peaks and canyons north of Silver Plume and never be found. They were banking on Purcell's heading north, since he'd told Jess he meant to visit friends there before leaving the state—probably to recover his stash of stolen money, they figured. North was also where Zeke McRoy had been hiding out, and the most likely direction for Jess to have ridden.

  "I'll going with you," Riley announced tersely. "I can shoot and I know the mountains."

  "Now who's acting half-cocked?" Devlin retorted. "You can't ride well enough with your back wound. You'll only slow me down."

  "I can keep up—"

  "No, dammit! You'd be less than useless to me on a long chase. You'd wind up keeling over in the saddle and I'd have to leave you there on the trail. If you think I'd care to face Jess after that, you can think again."

  Riley set his jaw. "She's my daughter and I'm going."

  Devlin cursed. He'd had this same discussion twice be­fore with Riley's muleheaded daughter, and he was getting a little tired of it. "I'll bring her back safely, Riley. Now, come on. We're wasting precious time with your foolish­ness."

  They argued a bit longer, but Devlin finally persuaded the older man that he hadn't recovered enough to meet the physical demands of a hard ride. Riley, however, still in­sisted Devlin had to have help. Jointly they concluded that they needed the marshal after all.