The Promise of Jenny Jones

by Maggie Osborne

  "Ty?" she whispered, leaning forward to look across at him.

  "Hmmm?"

  "Before tonight, I never hadan …" She didn't know the proper word. Lordy, Lordy. She hadn't even suspected that a woman could erupt like that. "Ty? I thought I knew about—you know, men and women—but I didn't know a damned thing."

  "Well, you sure do now," he said softly. A low chuckle groaned from his side of the room. "You sure know now."

  CHAPTER 15

  U ncertain if the Barrancas cousins were searching for them inChihuahua, Ty and Jenny stayed off the streets as much as possible, seldom venturing outside their hotel room. Jenny decided being cooped up in the room was the worst part of her healing process. She would go stark raving mad if she heard Graciela whine, "What can I do now?" one more time.

  Staring blindly at the pages of a Mark Twain novel that Ty had bought for her, she considered her situation regarding Graciela. She didn't want to be a parent, had sworn never to be a parent, and she hated being forced into the responsibilities of a parent. She didn't like kids, had never liked kids,didn't believe that she ever would like kids.

  But, much as she detested it, she was starting to sound like a parent. This astonished her as greatly as hearing parental-type admonitions and cajoling fall from Ty's handsome mouth.

  If their circumstance hadn't been so wearing and worrisome, it might have been amusing. She and Ty were two people who disliked children and had never expected to have to deal with any. But here they were, struggling with parental problems such as lack of privacy and setting an example, arguing over a six-year-old and expectations of her capabilities, and, at the moment, trying to hang on to their sanity while confronted with a bored and irritable kid.

  Given the same situation, would actual parents have taught their child to play poker and twenty-one? Jenny had to believe they would, even Marguarita.

  "Should I raise, call, or fold?" Graciela asked impatiently, tipping her hand toward Jenny while shielding her cards from Ty's sharp glance.

  Jenny sighed and looked up from her book. She'd read the same paragraph ten times. "I told you. I make it a practice never to advise a man how he should play his hand."

  "I'm not a man. I'm a kid. Fold, right?"

  Jenny looked into Graciela's disappointed eyes and nodded. "I'm not telling you what to do, but," she leaned over the corner of the table to whisper, "you only have a pair of fours. If it was me, I'd fold. Now don't interrupt me again."

  Graciela tossed her cards on the table with a look of disgust, and watched Ty grin andpull a pile of matchsticks toward his chest. "Let's play again."

  "Can't," Ty said, counting his matchsticks. "It's almost time for supper."

  Jenny considered abandoning any attempt to read. "Teach her how to play solitaire, will you?" she suggested. "That will give us a break."

  "I don't want to learn another game, I want to play poker," Graciela insisted, pushing her mouth into a pout. "And I want to win. Mama and Aunt Tete let me win at games."

  Jenny laughed, and even Ty grinned. "Well, you can forget that. Nobody here is going to 'let' you win. The day you win a pot from me or your uncle Ty, you can pat yourself on the back because you'll have won it honestly. Until that distant and improbable day, you are going to lose, so just make up your mind to it. Now stop talking, I'm trying to read."

  "Why don't you read out loud while Uncle Ty and I play another game of poker?"

  Jenny narrowed her eyes and sighed. "I read to you this morning. Now I want to read to myself. Maybe I'll read more to you on the train, but not now. So, shut up."

  Graciela let her shoulders slump and did her best to look utterly dejected. Jenny studied her a minute, then slammed her book shut.

  "Since you already feel rotten, this is a good time to remind you that your uncle Ty and I are going out tonight. I don't want any grief from you about this."

  Graciela's mouth dropped in exaggerated astonishment, and she stiffened in outrage. "You're going out without me?"

  Ty shuffled the cards and eased them back into the box. "I hired the hotel owner's wife—you know her, Senora Jaramillo—to stay with you while we're gone. You won't be alone."

  "I hate Senora Jaramillo. She's fat, and she has a mustache. I won't stay with her, I won't!"

  "Yeah, you will," Jenny said calmly. "You can scream and shout and cry all you want, but you're staying here. I told you aboutthis three days ago when I showed you my new gown."

  "I'm going, too!" Her hands formed into fists on the tabletop, and tears streamed down her face. "We own each other. We're responsible for each other. You have to take me too!"

  "Oh for heaven's sake." She frowned at Ty's stricken expression. "I know what you're thinking," she snapped. "But just remind yourself who the adults are and who the little snot is. If we let her get away with this crap, then she's right. She owns us." She turned a glare back to Graciela. "And that isn't going to happen."

  "I hate it when you talk about me like I can't hear you."

  "Graciela, honey," Ty said in a coaxing voice. "Senora Jaramillo knows how to play poker."

  Jenny noted that the kid didn't give in right away, but she brightened a little. Pride insisted that she string out her sulk and make it abundantly clear that she'd been hideously betrayed. By now, Jenny recognized the ploy, and she almost laughed. She wondered if she had tried to manipulate the adults in her life when she was Graciela's age. If so, she had been as certain of failure as was Graciela.

  Ty stood, guilt writ large across his face. "If I take you out for supper while Jenny is getting dressed, will that make you smile?"

  Jenny rolled her eyes. "And you said I'm an egg yolk. Look at you. She has you wrapped around her little finger."

  "I'll get my cape," Graciela said happily. Shooting Jenny a triumphant glance, she slid off her chair.

  "Sucker."

  Ty laughed and settled his hat on his head. "We'll be back in about an hour. Will that give you enough time to bathe and dress?"

  He had performed his ablutions earlier and stood before her tall and heart-stoppingly handsome, wearing tight-fitting black suede pants and a black velvet Mexican jacket over a starched white shirt. The flowing red tie at his collar caught her eye, as she hadn't seen him wear a tie until tonight.

  "You look wonderful," she said softly, letting her gaze travel along the taut muscle swelling at shoulder and thigh. A light shudder thrilled down her spine as she thought of the nights they had shared during this week. Now, they were familiar with each other's bodies. She knew he could shatter her with a kiss or a touch. And she knew she could direct him or stop him with a whisper. A glint of fledgling power shone in her eyes. "Where are we going?"

  "It's a surprise," he answered gruffly, narrowing his gaze on her lips. "I hope you'll enjoy what I have planned."

  He wouldn't say more, but the hard promise glittering in his expression spoke volumes. Wherever he planned to take her, she wouldn't be disappointed.

  She wet her lips and swallowed, smiling when she noticed his jaw tighten. "While you're out, would you check the train schedule? I'm feeling right as rain and ready to head forTexastomorrow. Graciela? You remind him. It's time to go."

  Because she was buoyed by the prospect of an evening alone with Ty, it struck her as amusing that Ty soothed Graciela's fits of temper by offering her a treat whereas Jenny aimed for the same result by assigning a task. The kid, she suspected, was clever enough to see through them both.

  After they departed, she ordered up a bath and carefully laid her new gown on one of the beds, letting her fingers linger on the whispery apricot-colored satin. A month ago the calluses on her palms would have snagged the smooth, embroidered fabric. Now that she wasn't driving every day or wrestling cartons of freight, her calluses had faded. Yesterday, for want of something to do, she had even borrowed Graciela's file and shaped her nails. Smiling, she decided that hell had frozen over the minute she applied a file to her thumbnail. Henceforth, sinners would shiver instead of s
weat.

  Graciela being Graciela, and knowing about such things, had bought a cake of rose-scented soap, and Jenny borrowed it for her bath, working the fragrant lather against her skin and scalp.

  One nice thing about short hair and dry desert air, she decided while toweling off, was how quickly her hair dried. Standing naked before the bureau, she leaned to the small mirror on top and combed her hair back from a center part so it would dry close to her head.

  Next she examined an item of clothing she had vowed would never touch her body, a corset. Laughing at an image of Ty buying such an intimate contraption, she held it up for inspection, flexed the steel bones, and studied the lace and ribbon trim. At least it hooked up the front. Even so, she doubted she would have worn the evil thing except that Graciela had insisted her gown wouldn't fit properly without a corset to nip her in here and push her up there.

  Once she had assembled and donned her undergarments, she returned to her hair, pleased that it had dried slicked back from her face. Here her fingers moved with certainty. Though she would have submitted to a whipping rather than admit it, over the years she had secretly experimented with comb and brush. Hair, her own hair, was a feminine item that she understood. In a flash, she had pinned a circlet of flowers near the nape, creating the illusion of a bun on her neck.

  Next came a spritz of Graciela's rose cologne,then she hesitated. How foolish would she feel if she patted powder over her cheeks and bosom? Just a slight dusting. Before she could change her mind, she applied powder to her face, throat, and shoulders, then leaned to inspectherself .

  My Lord. She looked like a different person. The powder muted her tan, her slicked-back hair exposed a broad, rather noble forehead, she decided, shyly pleased. Tonight her eyes appeared as blue as a shining spring sky. Caught up in a transformation she had never worked before, she plucked a rose petal from the flowers in the window box and rubbed it over her lips, leaning to the mirror to judge the effect.

  With only minutes to spare before Ty and Graciela knocked, then opened the door, she carefully stepped into the apricot-colored satin gown and hooked the side closing, wishing for a full-length mirror so she could admire the poufs of pale green cascading down the back of the gown. The pale green matched the swirls of delicate embroidery adorning the slim front of her skirt and repeated in a wide ribbon bow at her breast.

  Staring down at herself, she imagined a newly emerged butterfly, a splendid creature heretofore hidden inside awaiting exactly the right moment and the right accessories to shine forth. Or maybe she merely looked like an elegantly gowned lady of the night. She didn't know.

  Ty and Graciela stopped in their tracks when they saw her.

  "Jenny!" Graciela breathed, staring. "You look beautiful."

  Crimson circles flared on her cheeks as she raised her eyes to Ty, and she smoothed trembling fingers over her hips. Only when she noticed that his gaze smoldered with a fire no woman could fail to mistake did the tremor in her hands alter from uncertainty to pleasure. Still …

  "Do I look like a whore?" she whispered, wondering if she should have avoided the powder androse petal lips.

  "You look … like a vision," he murmured hoarsely. "That gown fits like a second skin, and the color is wonderful with your hair."

  Her throat warmed with a rush of delight. But he was a man; she couldn't fully trust his response. Therefore, she turned an appeal to Graciela. "Is too much bosom hanging out?" Never in her life had she exposed this much flesh. When she glanced down, a mountain range of pale mounds met her gaze.

  Graciela walked around her, giving a tug here, straightening a fold there. "That's the fashion," she announced sagely, sounding as knowledgeable as an experienced shopkeeper. When she had completed a full circle, she stood back and, eyes wide with disbelief and admiration, and she said softly, "Oh Jenny. You look so beautiful. You look like a princess."

  "Oh my. Well, thank you." She cleared her throat, then darted a glance toward Ty, who hadn't moved. He stood as if rooted to the floor by the sight of her.

  "Jenny?" Graciela bit her lips in indecision, then nodded and touched the locket pin on her chest. "I … would you like to borrow my pin for tonight?"

  The shy offer blindsided her. During the entire time they had traveled together, through all their travails, Graciela had worn the locket. Always. Day and night. It was her most prized possession, the only tangible memory of her mother.

  Oh Lord. Jenny blinked hard and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "I would be honored to wear your pin," she murmured in a husky voice. Sitting on the side of the bed, she waited while Graciela removed the locket from her chest then carefully pinned it to the bodice of Jenny's gown. They gazed at each other for a lengthy moment,then Graciela leaned forward and brushed a hasty kiss across Jenny's cheek before she darted away to the window.

  Openmouthed, Jenny lifted a hand to her cheek and stared. If nothing else happened tonight, already it had become an evening she would remember for the rest of her life. Graciela had kissed her.

  "Well," she said, dropping her head and blinking hard. Were there tears in her eyes? No, of course not. "Where is my fan and bag? And where is Senora Jaramillo?"

  "I hear the good senora on the staircase," Ty said. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her. "My God, Jenny," he said softly, his voice thick. "I wish you could see yourself. You look … amazing."

  Hot with pleasure, she stood and collected her fan and bag from the top of the bureau, and dropped an apricot satin shawl over her shoulders, feeling the pale green fringe brush the crook of her arms. To cover a sudden bout of nervousness, she focused on Graciela while she tugged on her gloves, but she was acutely aware that Ty watched each small movement she made.

  "Mind what Senora Jaramillo tells you. Don't play poker for real money, only matchsticks, and go to bed when the senora tells you to. I better not hear that you were smoking, cussing, or drinking up here."

  The kid didn't smile. She was getting pissy again. "You didn't used to care when I went to bed."

  "I do now. Now I understand the responsibilities of this job. Whether I like it or not, I have to think about your best interests. If it's any comfort to you, I'd rather think about my best interests instead of yours. Frankly, thinking about you first and always is mostly a pain in the … neck."

  Ty removed his hat with a flourish, bowed before his niece,then kissed the top of her head. "Here's Senora Jaramillo now. We'll see you in the morning." When Graciela crossed her arms over her chest and spun around to present her back to him, he frowned at her a moment, then pressed his lips together and turned to greet Senora Jaramillo.

  After a few minutes with Senora Jaramillo, Jenny took his arm and they stepped into the corridor. The instant the door shut behind them, they halted. "Put your ear against the wood and see if you can tell if she's crying," Jenny whispered.

  Ty pressed his ear to the door. "They're talking."

  "You're positive that she isn't crying?" She pressed her fingers together. "I can't believe how rotten I feel about leaving her. I know she's deliberately trying to make us feel lousy. I know this. But damn it, her tactic fricking works."

  Instantly, she wished she hadn't cussed. Instinct insisted that cusswords didn't sit well on the lips of a woman wearing apricot-colored satin and matching shawl and slippers. For the first time in her life, Jenny felt an urge to beg pardon for talking the way she had talked for most of her life.

  Stepping away from the door, Ty framed her face between his palms and kissed her deeply and without haste, cutting off her dazed apology. When their lips parted, he gazed down into her wide eyes. "We are not going to talk about Graciela tonight, or the Barrancas cousins. We are not going to flog ourselves for leaving her. Tonight is ours. It belongs to us."

  Already her heart was slamming against the bones of her corset. "Where are we going," she asked breathlessly, more for something to say than from any real curiosity. As long as she was with Ty, as long as he continued to look at her with that slow
smolder lighting the back of his eyes, she didn't care where they dined.

  Dined. Well la-de-da.A length of satin, some ribbon and lace, and wasn't she the grand lady? It would be wise to keep in mind that she had skinned buffalos, had washed other people's dirty laundry,had driven a team of foul-smelling jacks. No apricot-colored satin was going to change who she was.

  "Come with me," Ty said, taking her gloved hand.

  At the staircase landing. Jenny turned to descend, but he laughed softly and tugged her toward the stairs leading up. A question leaped into her eyes, and he smiled, and said, "You'll see."

  When he stopped to fit a key into the door of a room on the top floor, Jenny burst out laughing. "You dog," she said, pressing her gloved fingers beneath eyes damp with laughter. "For this I needed an expensive new gown? And a corset?"

  But the room Ty led her into was not just another hotel room. Having never seen a suite before, Jenny gasped, and her gloved hands flew to her lips.

  It was as if they had stepped into a small, opulent house. Through a doorway, she glimpsed an elegant four-poster, but they stood in a beautifully furnished living room.

  Smiling, Ty took her arm and led her toward a circular stairway. "We're dining al fresco . Do you know what that means?"

  "I don't have a fricking idea what that means," she whispered, too awed to be irritated as she usually was when he used words she didn't comprehend.

  "It means in the fresh air, outside."

  The staircase circled up to a rooftop courtyard so lush and lovely it took Jenny's breath away. What seemed like hundreds of potted plants created a tropical riot of shade and color, winding up trellises, trailing along the stonerailings. Moving to the railing, Jenny peered down at the distant street to remind herself that she couldn't be standing in a real garden.

  Then she gazed out at a stunning view of the city bathed in sunset tones of russet and gold. Beyond the city stretched the desert rangelands, and in the distance she identified the dusky silhouette of the Sierras. Jenny had never been high enough to view such a panorama and the beauty of it stopped the breath in her throat. Floating above the city on a blossom-laden cloud, she decided if nothing else occurred tonight, this was already an unforgettable evening.