Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Aren’t you the one always telling me not to swear?”
“You told him that, too?” Lucky squeaked out.
Ellie suddenly realized that he had misconstrued her comments, and thought if she didn’t say something fast, he might be the one to spill the beans. “Lucky, read my lips. I told him I liked Ellie as a nickname.” She looked him straight in the eyes and repeated, “Ellie is my nickname.”
Zeke must have seen the need to change the subject because he quizzed Jesse. “Why would you be soaked to the skin a’fore you got here? You know good and well how fast storms come over these mountains, and I don’t recall you ever getting caught in one.”
“Yeah, well, he’s probably not usually getting shot at, either. Besides, Jesse is a wonderful woodsman. If it weren’t for him, I might have been wounded more severely than I was.”
Now that took the attention off her nickname, her swearing, and Jesse’s semi-naked state.
“You was shot?” Lucky shouted.
Jesse waved them towards the entrance to the cave. “I’ll tell you all about it while we wait outside for Ellie to change. Then I can have my shirt back and we can all ride into town together just like nothing’s wrong. You did remember to bring us some horses, didn’t you?” His voice faded as he corralled the guys outside.
Ellie chuckled even as she struggled to pull her shirt on over her sore arm. Zeke and Lucky thought she couldn’t keep the simplest things straight without their help. She thought to explain but never got the chance as they rode back to Peavine.
“You’d best head right to the mine, Jesse,” Zeke commented, pulling his horse to a stop. “Carlos has been asking ‘bout you. Me and Lucky’ll see Miss Elizabeth home.” Zeke had that funny tone of voice that Ellie knew spelled trouble.
“I was going to invite Jesse home for breakfast,” she said, just to judge his reaction.
“You goin’ to cook?” Lucky snorted, knowing full well he did the cooking for her.
Ellie shot him an evil look.
Zeke shook his head. “No, not a good idea at all.”
“Zeke, what the hell is going on?” Ellie turned her glare on him.
Lucky groaned at her language.
“Miss Elizabeth.” He emphasized her name and left the word hanging. It was enough to make the hair on Ellie’s neck prickle. Though he hadn’t said exactly what was up, she had the feeling a kabotch had been put to their plans.
Jesse leaned close, cupping her cheek with his hand to turn her head to face him. “It wouldn’t do your reputation any good to be seen coming into town with me; not with the way we both look. Zeke is right about that.” He stared at her with such longing, Ellie knew he didn’t want to leave.
“But--”
“Let Zeke see you home. If there’s any way around it, stay away from Clayton Scott. Regardless of what we didn’t find out in Carson, I don’t trust him any further than I did last week. Which wasn’t any at all.” With a quick kiss on the cheek, Jesse turned his horse away. “Get your bones up to the Nightingale with me, Lucky, so you can take my horse back to the livery.”
Lucky pouted at having to leave, but obediently followed Jesse towards the tree line. Zeke rode with Ellie up to the house, then took the horses down the street to the livery while she had a hot bath. Regardless of any brewing trouble, she made him swear he wouldn’t come back for a full hour.
A good soak, strong coffee and a cigarette didn’t help settle her nerves at all. The more she thought about the shooting on the mountainside, the more upset she became. Her stomach churned and her fingers trembled as she held the coffee mug. She had traveled all over the world, and lived in plenty of big cities, and yet she’d never in her life been mugged, much less actually shot. She was in the travel business, for God’s sake, and sure as hell didn’t go anywhere other than very secure, high-dollar resorts.
She sighed, knowing that those very safe resorts didn’t come close to offering the kind of excitement she had found with Jesse Cole in Peavine, Nevada. Excitement she didn’t want to end, even though she knew it would in a few short days. Maybe it would be better if she went ahead and left right now.
By the time Zeke returned, Ellie had jerked on her own Levi’s, shirt and hiking boots and was pacing the kitchen. She jumped him the instant he crossed the threshold. “Zeke, I want to go home. Right now.”
At the same time he shouted, “Miss Elizabeth is on her way back.” In exasperation he ran his hands through his hair.
“Zeke, I am back.”
“I mean the real Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, God,” Ellie groaned, dropping into a kitchen chair, her own problems forgotten. “How do you know?”
“I happened to be walking past the telegraph office and Jimmy Jones bumped right into me, hurrying so fast he weren’t watching where he’s going. Darned near knocked me right down, he did.”
“Zeke, stick to the story.”
“Well, I says to him to watch it, and he says how he’s got a telegram for Mr. Scott. I figure it won’t hurt none to have a look-see, so I says I’ll take it to the bank seeing as how I’m going there, anyway. Jimmy Jones didn’t mind none seeing as how I gave him a dollar.” Zeke appeared quite pleased with himself, and Ellie had to admit he kept on top of things.
“And?” she prompted.
Zeke slapped a scrap of paper on the table as he spoke. “It was a telegram from Miss Elizabeth.”
“No.” Ellie scanned the rough handwriting. “How come Jimmy wouldn’t realize I couldn’t be in town and out of town at the same time?”
“I suppose if’n he figured on it a’tall, he’d figure you was just recent gone, which you was.” Zeke shrugged to show his unconcern for Jimmy Jones.
“How long do we have?”
“I hurried on down to the stage depot, but Elmer don’t keep much for schedules. He says the stage gets here when he sees a cloud of dust down the road a piece. So I looks at his map and figures seven, maybe eight days.”
“That’s cutting it mighty close.”
“Yep, but just think of what could of happened if’n I didn't get that telegram. Just the same, you and Jesse was shot at, and I’m thinking there’s more mischief going on than we know.”
“You’re right. Why would someone suddenly try to get rid of Jesse; or me?”
“There’s no good reason for trying to claim jump the Nightingale ‘cuz she ain’t been producing much all this time.”
“Yes, but I still say either Scott or Elizabeth know more than they’re telling and it’s directly related to Jesse’s mine.”
“Even so, you’d best take Jesse’s advice and stay away from that man.”
“Zeke, I can’t do that. I’m supposed to be in cahoots with him. How can I ignore him and act like he doesn’t exist? If I do, he won’t tell me any more of what he has planned.”
“We could figure it out on our own if’n we had to. ‘Sides, you sure don’t want to be doing with that snake’s belly what I’m thinking you and Jesse were doing all this time.”
Ellie blushed and for an instant considered telling him to mind his own business. But in reality, she and Jesse were his business. With a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders in confusion. “Zeke, there’s a place he’s touched in me where no one else has ever been. Even when he’s gone, I can still feel him here,” she touched her heart, “and here,” she moved her hand to her head. “He’s constantly with me; he’s all I think about.”
Zeke slowly shook his head. “Missy, you ain’t gonna get all ‘motional and mushy on us now, are you? You know we gotta change history right this time. Then you go home.”
Ellie slammed back her chair as she jumped to her feet. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She shouted, then immediately burst into tears. She stood in front of Zeke, wringing her hands. Through tears, she searched his face as she spoke. “Zeke, I don’t want to leave him.”
“Oh, boy, that’ll change history for sure.”
* *
*
Zeke had not been able to come up with any kind of answer to Ellie’s anguished pleas to be allowed to stay in this century. Ellie hadn’t wanted to come to this place; hadn’t wanted to help with anything, but once they had brought her through the mine to Peavine, she had fallen in love.
Whether that would put a kink in history and destroy their plans, or whether things could progress as indicated, they just didn’t know. And if they couldn’t save Jesse this time around, Ellie didn’t want to live in either century.
Ellie cried herself to sleep that night, dreams of Jesse’s tender lovemaking finally giving her rest. The next morning, it was all she could manage to drag her weary body out of bed when someone knocked on the door.
Clayton’s astonished look when she greeted him told her that her swollen eyes and scratchy throat didn’t do much for her appearance. She didn’t care. When he grabbed her arm and she winced, he didn’t even look surprised. It was almost as though he had known she had been hurt. That fact did register in Ellie’s fuzzy mind.
“Elizabeth, I thought we had agreed to go for a ride today.” His voice, oiled and about as seductive as a snake charmer, didn’t fool Ellie.
She knew, also, that she had never agreed to go for a ride with him. Recalling Jesse’s warning, Ellie wondered just exactly how she could manage to stay away from the banker. He let himself into the house and closed the door when she backed up.
“Clayton, I don’t exactly feel up to a ride today.” She pulled her robe closer around her, tying the sash over a queasy stomach.
He took a step closer, looking her up and down. “Where have you been the past couple of days, Elizabeth? You look like hell.”
His tone irritated her and even if she was supposed to keep him happy, she just couldn’t let him get by with intimidating her. “I went to Carson on business.”
He reached out to trail a finger down her cheek. Ellie shivered at the coldness of his touch. “I know you were with Cole. I told you to stay away from him; that I’d take care of him.”
Ellie’s ears were ringing and her head was spinning. What had he said? She tried to concentrate on the conversation, but felt as though she’d been drugged and was standing outside herself.
“What kind of business do you have with Jesse Cole, Elizabeth?” Ellie felt the danger, even though his voice remained devoid of emotion. Still, she couldn’t think of any reply but the truth.
“Personal.” She tried to out stare him, but her eyes weren’t focusing.
He now stood directly in front of her, his chest lightly brushing her wrist as she clutched the front of her robe. He wrapped long, cold fingers around the front of her throat.
“How personal did it get, Elizabeth? Did you let him have your delectably soft body?” His fingers tightened painfully. “Did he tell you what we need to know after you sprawled in his bed?” He whispered the question just before his cool lips touched hers and he forced his tongue inside her mouth. Ellie didn’t move a muscle or respond in any way.
Still holding her with just his grip on her throat, Clayton stared at her with hard, cruel eyes. “You’re mine, Elizabeth, so get Cole out of your mind. He’s a dead man.”
Ellie closed her eyes and willed herself not to get sick. It’s all part of the plan to gain information, her mind zapped out a repetitive message, but her stomach refused to listen. With a groan, she twisted away and raced to her bedroom, barely dragging the chamber pot out from under the bed before her stomach rebelled entirely.
She didn’t realize Clayton had followed her until she sagged weakly to the floor, her back to the bed. She numbly flopped her head back against the mattress.
“Well, that’s thoroughly disgusting,” he said from the doorway, looking as though he thought she would contaminate him. “I suppose we’ll have to postpone our little outing, but at least if you’re sick, I don’t have to worry about you rendezvousing with Cole.”
“Go to hell,” Ellie retorted, though she wished she could sound more vehement.
“That’s more like it. A little spirit, but not too defiant. Come see me when you’re back on your feet.” Clayton laughed coarsely before adding, “Of course, you won’t stay on your feet long, but I don’t want you puking in my bed.”
Ellie closed her eyes, shaking like a leaf. Clayton was getting entirely too bold. She only hoped she could fend him off as long as it remained necessary. Regardless of Elizabeth’s history with the man, Ellie found him totally repulsive. She tried to count the number of days until they would be through with him, but darkness squeezed in around the edges of her vision.
She couldn’t lift herself off the floor without her head spinning dizzily. What had hit her so hard? She never got sick, but when she heard the front door slam behind Scott, she decided it had to be stress. Too weak to stand, she turned to her hands and knees and crawled towards the wash basin, wanting desperately to rinse out her mouth.
“Holy Mackerel, Miss Elizabeth,” Lucky screeched from the doorway and Ellie dropped the glass of water she had just managed to pour with shaking hands. Lucky scrambled over to where she sat in a heap. “Are you sick?”
If Ellie looked even one tenth as bad as she felt, Lucky didn’t need to ask. He must have agreed when she lifted her face to peer bleary eyed at him, for he silently shook his head, dropping his hat to the chair and gently lifting her under the arms to help her to bed.
“Water,” she whispered hoarsely.
After he fetched her a glass and took care of her chamber pot, Lucky stood by the bed, fidgeting with his hat.
“Go away.” Ellie wanted to die in peace and didn’t want witnesses to her dreadful state.
“I’d better get Zeke,” Lucky contemplated out loud, “or maybe Jesse.”
“No,” Ellie tried to rear up in bed, but finding herself too weak, flopped back onto the pillow. “Please don’t get Jesse,” she cried softly. “I’m such a mess. I don’t want him to see me this way. I’ll be fine; I just need some rest.” She reached for his arm, but he had become indistinct and Ellie wondered if he had turned into a ghost again. She tried to focus, but the room grew steadily dark, and she only hoped that if she was being transported back to her own time, she wouldn’t arrive with the flu.
* * *
Ellie struggled against the fog in her brain. Arguing, though the exact words escaped her, slowly brought her back to consciousness, but with a sense of dread. Something had happened that she needed to remember. For whatever reason, she felt the urgency, but couldn’t recall the message.
“What’s we goin’ to do if’n she don’t get better?”
“Dang if I know. You sure you didn’t feed her something upsetting to her innards?”
“You always blame me, Zeke. I ain’t always at fault, you know.”
Ellie groaned, figuring she had been transported to hell, the two crusty old miners with her. From the heat suffocating her and the feel of cotton in her mouth, she’d place even money on the devil’s own back yard.
She tried to move her arms but couldn’t; her legs didn’t work either. Concentrating hard enough to give herself a headache, she forced scratchy eyes open to see two grisly faces peering down at her. Another groan escaped. Trying to raise an arm to block the bright sunshine from her eyes, she realized they had buried her under enough blankets to bake an Eskimo.
“Water,” she croaked, then gagged when Lucky tilted the glass too rapidly against her mouth. It took every ounce of energy she could muster to get one arm out from beneath the pile of quilts. She made a grab at the glass, but a stinging pain shot up her arm and she cried out.
“You two get away before you kill her.” The command came from the door. Lucky and Zeke immediately backed off.
Jesse marched over to the bed in a no nonsense fashion, a breakfast tray in his hands. He wore a soft blue chambray shirt tucked into snug breeches. His black hair glistened in the light; his blue eyes twinkled as he winked at her. To Ellie, he looked like an angel.
Here he came, all
scrubbed and shiny and smelling of fresh air and male. Ellie could feel the sweat clinging to her skin; could tell from the way her head felt that her hair was tangled. Regardless of the heat from the wealth of covers piled on top her, she wanted to crawl under them so Jesse couldn’t see her.
“Go away.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned her head to the wall.
“Yes, you two skedaddle back up to the mine. Tell Carlos I won’t get back today, and to let me know if he needs me.” Jesse placed the tray on the table, reached over her for another pillow, and gently lifted her shoulders forward to prop her up to eat. He ignored her silent tears, and while Ellie wanted to die of embarrassment, he seemed not to notice her condition.
He settled the tray on her lap, gave her a dazzling smile, then turned to shoo the other two from the room like an old mother hen. Ellie could hear them talking in low voices, but decided to ignore them as the scent of bacon and eggs reached her. With her good arm, she reached for her coffee, savoring the rich dark brew, and was dipping her toast into the last of her egg when Jesse returned.
“What happened?” Though she felt better with a full stomach, she knew she had been very, very sick. The last thing she recalled was retching when Clayton had come calling. That thought brought back the feeling of dread she had experienced earlier. She frowned in concentration.
Jesse sank into the chair beside her bed, stretching his long legs out before him, sipping his own coffee. For the moment, Ellie forgot her consternation as she took in the length of him, admiring the snug fit of his pants and the width of his shoulders.
“Somehow you got infection from that gunshot wound to your arm.” Jesse shook his head slightly. “I cleaned it thoroughly, and it was only a crease. There was no cause for it to flare up like it did.”
No wonder her arm still hurt, Ellie gingerly touched the bandage covering her upper arm. “I still feel woozy.”
“You had a fever. It’s a good thing Lucky found you when he did. Whatever kind of poison was on that bullet could have caused you to lose your arm.” Even as fuzzy as Ellie’s brain was, she could hear the anger in his voice.
Prospecting for Love Page 15
