The Promise of Jenny Jones

by Maggie Osborne

  "Get your butt behind that tree!" After giving Jenny a shove, he dived toward the water trough and dropped into a crouch.

  She leaned around the tree trunk. "Crud on a crust!There's more of them!"

  Lifting his head above the trough, Ty spotted three men running toward the sound of the shots. Smiling and clapping her hands, Graciela called their names.

  "More fricking cousins! My God. She's got a cousin in every jerkwater village inMexico. They're everywhere."

  Swiftly, he assessed the situation and reached a reluctant conclusion. "We're outnumbered." He glanced toward the tree and saw that Jenny had stepped away from the trunk. He shouted to her over the sound of gunfire. "Damn it, get behind that tree!" She had more guts than brains. "Listen to me. We can't win this fight. Hold your fire and let them go."

  She whirled toward the water trough. "What are you saying, you son of a bitch? That we give up and let them take her?"

  "We'll get her back. But not if we're dead."

  She stared hard at him,then looked toward the street. Ty watched her face as she accepted the inevitable. Her shoulders slumped, her gun dropped to her side, and she covered her eyes with a shaking hand. A bullet chunked into the water trough; anotherpinged the dust in front of the tree. Cautiously, Ty raised his head, burning to return fire, but holding back because Graciela was happily running back and forth between the men. Frustrated, he made a fist and hit the trough hard enough to slop water over the sides.

  Now the Mexes were retreating toward the cantina, the man at the rear firing back at Ty and Jenny. "Wait!" Graciela shouted.

  She broke from the group of men and stood silently staring back at Jenny who had stepped into the street when she heard Graciela's shout. They looked at each other for a long moment,then Graciela wriggled her fingers in a shy wave, spun, and ran back to the men. One of the insolent bastards swung her up on his shoulders, arrogantly certain that Ty and Jenny wouldn't shoot, and the men moved swiftly toward the horses tied in front of the cantina.

  Jenny sagged against the tree trunk, watching with dulled eyes as the men trotted out of thevillage, Graciela perched in front of Cousin Jorje. "They'll kill her. You know that, don't you?" she said, not looking at him.

  Slowly Ty pulled to his feet and turned away from the dust kicked up by the Mexes' horses. He glared. "What the hell were you thinking about? Standing there in the middle of the street like some cocksure gunfighter with not a fricking thing between you and getting killed! You're damned lucky that Mex was a lousy shot. I'm amazed that you didn't take a bullet."

  "I did take a bullet."

  Swearing, he strode forward and ran his hands roughly over her shoulders, found the wetness just above her elbow. "Christ!" He stared down into her eyes. "Anywhere else?"

  "Just the arm."

  Shoving back her poncho, he gripped her shirt and tore it open down the sleeve. She winced when he probed the wound. "You live right. The shot passed through the fleshy part. It didn't hit bone."

  "We're wasting time, Sanders." She jerked away from him. "We've got to go after her."

  "We will," he said grimly, wiping blood off his fingers. "First we get you doctored."

  She made a snorting sound. "There's no doctor in this place. We need to go after them now."

  "Were the cousins specifically looking for you, or was this shoot-out the result of an accidental meeting? Because if it was accidental, then nothing is going to happen immediately. Graciela is safe until they decide what they're going to do. It takes two Mexicans a full day of arguing just to agree the sky is blue."

  Ty stopped, thinking about what he had just said, hearing the echo of his father. "Look," he said, frowning. "Four men, and that's what we've got here, are going to need two days merely to agree that they need a plan and another two or three days to decide what the plan's going to be."

  Jenny tilted her head. "You don't think much of the Mexicans, do you, Sanders?"

  He turned her toward the cantina and pulled her into step beside him. "For as long as I can remember, Don Antonio Barrancas has been trying to claim Sanders land as his, and he turns a blind eye when his men steal our cattle. His daughter split our family apart."

  "That's one family, and it could have been anyone. Barrancasdoesn't represent all Mexicans."

  He frowned at her. "Maybe I'm starting to see that. And maybe you should mind your own business."

  "I'm thinking about Graciela, and that makes it my business. Maybe your intolerance is one of the reasons I'm never going to let her go off alone with you."

  They stood nose to nose, glaring at each other.

  "Well, I take offense at that statement. I'm not so blinded by—certain things—that I'd dislike a child just because…" He was floundering here, starting to sputter. "If you're on some kind of mission to convince me that all Mexicans wear a halo—"

  "I'm not on any kind of mission except to keep my promise to a good woman. I'd be the first to concede that the Barrancas cousins are rotten sons of bitches."

  "That's the one thing in this world that you and I agree on." Taking her good arm, he pulled her into the cantina and ordered a bottle of tequila. "Sit there," he ordered, pointing to a stool in front of bare planks laid out as a bar. "Put your arm on the top."

  "¿Que esta?" The man behind the bar stared at Jenny's bloody arm. He feigned surprise, as if he hadn't heard the shots in the street, hadn't watched thecousins jump on their horses right in front of the open-faced cantina.

  "Your pals shot a woman. I'm going to clean her wound." Ty snarled. "You got a problem with that?" The man lifted both hands and moved backward a step. "How about you?" he asked Jenny.

  She shrugged. "Has to be done."

  Pushing back the edges of her poncho, he pulled open the halves of her bloody sleeve and inspected the wound at close quarters. A quarter of an inch to the left, and the bullet would have shattered bone, leaving her with a useless arm. A couple of inches to the right, and he'd be burying her right now. He poured tequila into a shot glass and shoved it toward her.

  "Drink up. This is going to hurt like hell."

  She tossed back the tequila without a gasp, suggesting she'd tipped a few in her time. "Been shot before. OutsideEl Paso." She wiped her good hand across her lips. "Some bastard tried to steal my rig and freight. He didn't get it. But he shot me just below the ribs." She looked up at him. "You ever been bored?"

  "About five years ago. One of old man Barrancas's men winged me when I rode onto Barrancas land looking for the cattle they stole." He poured her another shot of tequila, watched her throw it back.

  There wasn't a woman he knew or had ever known who would have sat there like Jenny Jones, bleeding on the bar and tossing back shots of tequila without a hitch in her husky voice, without a word of self-pity or complaint. Sitting there wounded, swapping tales about getting shot.

  Shaking his head, he splashed more tequila into his glass and touched the rim to hers "You know," he said, gazing at her cropped coppery hair before he let his glance slide to the clean angle of her jaw, "I can't explain this, but I have a powerful hankering for you. I beg pardon if that observation is out of line, but you strike me as a woman who's not averse to straight talk."

  Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline, and her mouth fell open. "You got a hankering? For me? Why?" Disgust pinched her mouth, and for a bad moment he thought the disgust was directed at him, but then she apologized. "It's the kid. I'm so sick of hearing the word why , I swore I'd never use it myself."

  He swallowed his tequila, watching her over the edge of the glass. "I can't answer that. I don't know why."

  She wasn't remotely similar to the women he'd lusted after in the past. There was nothing dainty or even particularly feminine about her. But he never thought of Jenny Jones without thinking what a hell of a woman she was. If he didn't dwell on her peculiar hairdo and unfashionably tanned skin, she was even good-looking. When he recalled her breasts and small waist, sweat appeared on his brow.

  Sh
e gave him a level look, turning the tequila glass between her fingers. "Graciela said you hated me for killing her mother."

  "That's not true." He thought a minute. He didn't want to call his niece a liar, but she'd stretched the truth on this one. "Graciela must have misunderstood," he said carefully.

  "That's good since it appears we need to work together to get her back." Eyes narrowed, she considered him with a thoughtful expression. "I was pretty damned pissed when I thought you hated me."

  That was an encouraging sign, he decided, pouring heranother tequila . "I was pretty damned pissed myself when you hog-tied me and left me in the dirt. I plan to even the score on that one." He shrugged. She was no tender greenhorn. She would understand the incident demanded a payback. "The thing is,I like your looks even with your hair whacked-up like that. It's a nice color. Better without the black."

  She tugged on a short strand near her ear and frowned. "Lice."

  "I figured something like that." A tall, strong-boned woman wasn't to every man's taste, but he responded powerfully to the challenge she presented. "And I admire your style. Hell, who can explain a hankering. You aren't like any woman I ever met."

  "That's for damned sure," she said with a laugh. For a moment he thought she might be blushing, but he decided her cheeks were more likely flushed with sun and pain.

  Still, it impressed the hell out of him that she could sit there with a shot-up arm and laugh, paying no mind at all to the people gathered outside the cantina, staring in. She was an astonishing woman. And it hadn't escaped his notice that her arm was milky white down to her cuff line. He reckoned the rest of her body was white, too, except for the part brushed with flame. The part separating legs long enough to wrap around a man and guide him where he wanted to go. Imagination paralyzed him.

  After a minute he swallowed and wiped a hand across his forehead. "It's time. Hold your arm steady." Shifting so she sat sideways to the plank bar, she extended her arm, made a fist and lowered her head. When he poured the tequila into her wound, she sucked in a sharp hissing breath and blinked rapidly. Her eyes swam, but no tears spilled over.

  "It's all right to cry."

  "No, it isn't," she muttered between her teeth.

  After he'd washed the wound thoroughly and cleaned the blood off her arm, he poured the last of the tequila into their glasses and waited until she'd tossed hers back.

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?" Her voice was husky, and her eyes glistened with a damp shine, but Gawd a'mighty, she'd taken the pain like a man.

  Ty decided he'd never wanted to bed a woman as badly as he wanted to bed this one. Since most women were docile creatures, he seldom thought in terms of taming a woman. But Jenny Jones was for damned sure not docile. She was prickly, stubborn, and exciting in a way he hadn't experienced before.

  "Do you have a hankering for me, too?" He snapped the question, irritated that he had to humble himself by asking. He'd made a declaration here, and she owed him better than to leave him dangling and wondering. He'd revealed himself, and he deserved a revelation in return.

  "I guess I do," she admitted after a lengthy hesitation, scowling up at him. "I don't fricking like it much, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I got a hankering for you, too." She glanced at the man behind the bar. "I need two thin slices of pork rind, por favor."

  "And some bandage strips," Ty added.

  "Listen. Just because we got a mutual hankering, doesn't mean we have to act on it." Her chin came up on a mulish angle. "Aside from the hankering, there isn't much about you that I like. So far, you've been a pain in the behind. And I might as well tell you, I've followed through on one hankering and getting shot was more of an enjoyable experience. I didn't like it."

  That was disappointing news. The minute she'd admitted sharing his hankering, wild images had exploded through his mind like fireworks. Since she didn't seem to do things halfway, he'd figured her for a robust and enthusiastic partner. But somewhere along her trail, a man had treated her badly. That was a damned shame. Women were like fillies. Break 'em right, and they'd give a man pleasure every time he climbed in the saddle; break 'em harsh or carelessly, and they were nothing but trouble forever after.

  He'd have to think about this.

  Taking the supplies from the bartender, he curved the pork rind on both sides of her wound and bound them in place by wrapping strips of cloth around her arm. Her skin was warm and taut, and she had good muscle definition. If she hadn't been wearing the shapeless poncho, he could have treated himself to a stolen glance at her magnificent breasts.

  "I didn't say we had to act on the hankering," he commented casually. He wasn't positive that she'd stated an outright rejection, but in case she leaned in that direction, he wanted her to know he hadn't made any firm offer.

  Standing, she touched her fingertips to the wrapped arm. Her eyes were clear and her step as steady as his. Looking at her, no one would guess that the two of them had just topped half a bottle of tequila. Ty hadn't considered it until now, but holding her liquor was a good quality in a woman.

  "How come you're blathering about hankering," she demanded, striding to the front of the cantina, "instead of planning how we get your niece back? Don't you care about her? Or is she just some Mexican brat to you?"

  His gaze snapped down hard. "How I feel about the kid is none of your business."

  "Right now, Graciela is my only business."

  "Where's your gear?" When she talked about Graciela, her face changed. A fierce determination tightened her expression. She truly believed she was responsible for his niece.

  "Down a couple of blocks." When she turned, her face was half in shadow, half in sunshine. "I'm not going anywhere with you until I know how you feel about Graciela. If you aren't committed to getting her back, I need to know it right now."

  Ty moved past her into the street,then stopped, forcing a man on a burro to ride around them.

  "Here's how it is. I'm no happier about havinga Barrancas in the family than my father was," he said, speaking between his teeth. "But Graciela is my brother's daughter, and I promised Robert that I'd bring her home to him. I also promised my brother that I'd take care of his wife and child if anything ever happens to him. I gave my word. You told me that you never lie, so you'll understand what that promise means. Graciela is part of my family, she's part of me, and she's my responsibility. I'm not leavingMexicowithout her."

  Jenny adjusted the sling he'd fashioned over her arm,then leaned toward him, her expression combative. "I have good news for you, mister. If something happens to Robert, you're off the hook because Marguarita asked me to raise Graciela and I gave her my word that I would. And I will."

  "No stranger is going to raise my niece. Not you, not anyone else. She has my mother and she has me. She has family."

  "She also has Don Antonio, and Marguarita didn't want him raising her daughter either. She picked me."

  They stood close enough that he felt the heat rolling off of her, felt the power of her splendid body.

  "The only reason you care what happens to Graciela is because you made a promise to Marguarita," he stated flatly, staring at her mouth.

  Her eyes blazed and her body tensed. "And I mean to keep that promise if it kills me. Or if I have to kill you. You are not going to raise Graciela. I am."

  Never in his life had he wanted to punch someone as much as he wanted to punch the woman staring a challenge into his eyes. But if he raised a hand against her, she'd come right back at him, regardless of her wounded arm, and they'd be fighting and rolling in the dirt street of this tiny village whose curious population stood in doorways staring at them.

  He had no idea how he could want to bed a woman and want to knock her senseless at the same time. It was a mystery to ponder some other time.

  "The fact is," he snarled, opening and closing his fists, "neither of us has to raise Graciela. Robert will do that. As I've said before, your job is finished. Over. You'd do us both a favor if you'd ride
out of here and forget about my niece."

  Her lip curled away from straight white teeth. "Did the odds change when I wasn't looking? Did a few of the Barrancas cousins shoot themselves? Or do you plan to go up against four men all by your stupid self? You aren't that good, Sanders."

  He flushed, remembering how she'd left him hog-tied in the dirt. His fists closed hard. She didn't know just how good he was, but his time would come, damn it. "You and I can't keep stealing Graciela back and forth. We have to work this out."

  "There's nothing to work out," she said, spinning away from him and walking forward. "I'm taking the kid to Robert. Me, not you. I gave my promise, and that's the end of it." She threw the words back at him. "If you want to tag along … well, I agree that's better than what we've been doing. It's up to you. I don't give a piss what you decide."

  He didn't talk to her while she collected her gear and watched him saddle her horse; he didn't talk until they were a mile east of the village, following a clear trail left by the cousins.

  "Your wound isn't bad," he commented stiffly, coming up alongside her mare. "You should be able to use your arm in a couple of days."

  "I could use it now if I had to," she snapped.

  Crimson shadows stretched before them, cast by a bloodred sunset. Ty judged they could ride another thirty minutes,then they'd have to set up camp for the night. "We can't make plans until we find out where the cousins are going and what they intend to do."

  "They're heading toward the railroad, and they plan to kill Graciela. The only questions are when and how."

  Her lack of doubt troubled him. "I want to play devil's advocate for a minute."

  She scowled,then muttered, "Wait." After whipping a dictionary out of her roll, she thumbed the pages, held the book to the sunset light streaming over her shoulder,then she nodded grimly. "Go ahead. Be an advocate, you're aperfect devil."

  "All you have is Marguarita's opinion that the Barrancas cousins intend to harm Graciela."