Jessi lifted the cup and saucer, the way her mother had taught her, and nearly cried out loud at the sharp pain radiating from her knuckles to her wrist. Looking down, she noticed they were no longer an angry shade of red, but more of a purple now and swelling. She’d thought the color would fade as her anger had.
“You want Doc to take a look at your hand?”
The boarding house owner was staring at Jessi’s hand. Jessi cringed as she tried to steady the saucer and fit her finger through the delicate cup handle.
“ ’Tis just bruised,” Jessi assured her, hoping she was right.
“As I was saying, if you don’t have anywhere to stay, I have an empty room.”
Jessi knew the moment the offer was made that she couldn’t accept if it was offered in charity. She might be in a strange country without a friend, but she still had her pride. “How much will the room cost?”
“I think we can come to some sort of agreement,” Mrs. Swenson said.
“I’ve a fair hand in the kitchen and am not afraid of hard work.” Jessi hoped it would be enough until she found a paying job. “Do ye know of anyone who is looking for kitchen help or someone to clean houses?”
“Why don’t you plan on staying with me for now?” the older woman asked. “It gets lonely when my man’s not around.”
Jessi hadn’t noticed any man. “Would that be Mr. Swenson then?”
Mrs. Swenson’s face flushed, reminding Jessi of one of her mother’s fairy roses. The blush made the other woman look years younger and had Jessi wondering just how old Mrs. Swenson was.
“No. He’s been gone for years. I meant Ben—er, Marshal Justiss.”
The dreamy look said it all. Mrs. Swenson had a sweetheart. “Does he live here?”
Mrs. Swenson’s hand went to her breast and she started choking on the mouthful of tea she’d just swallowed.
Jessi was on her feet in a flash and pounding Mrs. Swenson on her back. “Easy now,” she soothed when the choking subsided. “I’ll take that as a no, he’s not living here.”
Mrs. Swenson’s now-pale face was expressive, and there was no doubt in Jessi’s mind that the older woman was in love with the marshal.
She couldn’t keep from asking, “Does he know how you feel about him?”
The other woman smiled. “Yes.”
“Well, then, there shouldn’t be a problem if he does come by now and again, is there?”
Jessi watched the other woman’s shoulders sag and the stiffness leave her by degrees until the two sat across from one another relaxing over their tea.
Jessi wondered what Mrs. Swenson’s story was. What was it like having a sweetheart? She’d never really had one. She’d loved John for so long, she hadn’t given a thought to any of the young men back home in the village when they’d started to come around hoping to court her. Her older brother had encouraged them, but she hadn’t been interested.
And then there was the worry of her mother and older brother trying to keep her away from the Reilly family. While Jessi knew it didn’t have anything to do with the Reillys’ reputation in town, it still hurt that her own family didn’t trust her to make her own decisions or respect them.
She tried not to think about the real reason behind the animosity between their two families.
“…won’t you let me send someone to fetch Doc?”
Jessi’s eyes closed and her heart stumbled in her chest as she remembered all the years she’d had to face her mother’s derision whenever Jessi wandered over to the Reilly cottage. It wasn’t her fault she preferred the company of kindly Mrs. Reilly to her own mother. Mrs. Reilly didn’t wallow in the past, but then again, Mrs. Reilly had married the man Jessi’s mother had loved.
The day Jessi had boarded the ship that would take her thousands of miles away from her family and the country of her birth, her mother hadn’t cared enough to see her off. They had said everything that needed saying the night before. Her mother’s words still echoed in her head. Ye’ve made yer bed. Now lie in it.
“I’ll be right back.”
Jessi nodded but didn’t look at Mrs. Swenson, and therefore didn’t realize the woman was very concerned about her. Sighing, she set aside her troubled thoughts of home and tried to concentrate on the problems before her.
She was in a strange country, virtually alone, without family or friends. Well; actually, she’d been befriended by the redheaded Mr. Flynn, and the boarding house owner, Mrs. Swenson. It was time she stopped feeling sorry for herself and started to work out a plan to earn her keep.
“Mrs. Swenson, I…” Jessi’s voice trailed off when she realized she was alone in the big kitchen. “Odd,” she said, pushing her chair back from the table so she could get up and walk around.
“Is anyone here?” she called out, walking from room to room.
When no one answered, she realized Mrs. Swenson must have been trying to tell Jessi where she’d gone, but Jessi hadn’t been listening. She’d been thinking about Ireland and John and feeling sorry for herself.
Uneasy being alone in the strange house, she walked back to the kitchen. At least in this one room, she felt comfortable. “I’ll just put the kettle on.” Reaching for the teakettle, she lifted it off the iron trivet and was startled when her grip gave way and her hand surrendered to the abuse she’d put it through a short while ago.
“Blast,” she mumbled, bending to retrieve the pot. Making sure to use her good hand, she lifted the pot and sighed at the dent in it. “My new landlady won’t be asking me to stay after she sees what I’ve done to her best kettle.”
“And just what might that be, miss?” a deep voice called out to her.
Jessi dropped the half-full pot on her foot and cried out as shards of pain splintered through her.
“Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
The voice was closer and had changed from challenging to soothing. Jessi was finally able to draw in a deep breath and look up. A handsome man with a silver star pinned to his vest towered over her.
Her first reaction was to step back, but she had nowhere to go. Her brain recognized the star. She remembered reading that his star proclaimed him to be a man of the law. No, that wasn’t what the book called it. The word was lawman! A man she could trust.
Feeling just a bit braver now that she’d reasoned out in her mind that the broad-shouldered man taking up the entire doorway to the kitchen meant her no harm, she lifted her chin and met his steady gaze.
She’d later swear a mix of surprise and admiration flitted through the man’s pretty green eyes. What kind of woman was she to be pining over her lost love John Reilly one moment, and thinking of the broad-shouldered, green-eyed lawman the next?
Hopeless, that’s what her Ma had often said. “Yer as hopeless as meself, pining after a man who doesn’t love ye, lass. Why can’t ye settle yer heart on one of the lads coming to court ye?”
Jessi remembered answering her mother, “For the same reason ye never could forgive John’s da for marrying someone else, or yerself for marrying a man ye didn’t love.”
Two of a kind, they were, Jessi realized. Like her mother before her, she was destined to give her heart once in this lifetime. Wasn’t it just her bad luck to have fallen in love with the dark-eyed, handsome John Reilly?
“Here,” the lawman urged, “have a seat, miss.”
She nodded and sat, glad to ease the weight off her injured foot. Wasn’t she the fool, sitting there on the edge of Mrs. Swenson’s chair, thinking about the man who didn’t want her and knowing it wouldn’t matter? She’d love him till she died.
“I heard about what happened when the stage arrived.”
The heat of her embarrassment slowly spread from her neck all the way to her hairline, but she refused to look away. “I’ve already apologized,” she said, wondering if her earlier fear had come to pass. The lawman had sought her out to run her out of town.
Some of her fears must have shown on her face, because he relaxed his stance and remov
ed his hat. “Heard that, too, miss.”
The stretch of silence grew longer and had her fighting the urge to squirm. Not wanting to appear ill-bred, she smoothed her skirts and pretended she wasn’t afraid. It usually worked, but this time was different. This time she was in danger of being tossed out of town when she’d only just arrived. That had never happened back home, where they knew of her temper and accepted her in spite of it. Was America so different? Why couldn’t John have stood by her? Then she wouldn’t be fretting right now.
“Are ye the sheriff, then?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. Marshal Justiss.” His penetrating gaze had her wanting to get up and dash outside before she confessed the whole of the plan she and Mrs. Reilly had concocted before she’d left Ireland.
“Me name’s Jessi Fahy,” she began. “I’ve been traveling forever.”
“It must seem that way, miss.” He nodded. “Especially if you’ve come as far as your lilt would lead me to believe.”
“Ye mean the way I speak?”
He smiled. “The way you sound. It’s lovely, by the way,” he admitted. “A few of our town folk are from Ireland. I’m sure they’ve heard about you by now and will be stopping by before supper’s on.”
She didn’t know what to say. Was the marshal telling her they’d come to visit her in the jail, then? “Are ye after bringin’ me in?”
Impossibly, the big man smiled, and Jessi couldn’t help but notice the way his smile changed him from the hard-eyed, stern lawman to an approachable one.
“No, Miss Fahy,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what the laws are back in Ireland, but out here, punching a man’s lights out isn’t a crime.” His intense gaze caught hers and she couldn’t look away. “However,” he began, “public brawling is, so it’s a good thing the man had enough sense not to hit you back.”
“John’d never do that,” she said before she could stop herself. Since she’d admitted that much, she added, “He’s a good man.”
“Then I was right,” Marshal Justiss said. “You do know one another.”
Jessi felt her face flushing again. “Aye, we did, but he doesn’t remember me.”
“I’d venture to say, he’ll not likely forget you again, miss.”
His deep chuckle bothered her. Was he insulting John? “He’s a decent man,” she defended him, “and not one to be laughed at.”
The marshal agreed. “He’s always the first to either lend a hand or his strong back. Why don’t you tell me what prompted your attack?”
“I didn’t attack him,” she snapped. “I merely…” The words dried up on her tongue. She had been the first to swing. No, she’d been the only one to swing. John would never strike a woman. His mother would have skinned him alive.
“I, um—’Twas a terrible long journey,” she said, not knowing what else to say. She’d apologized to John; shouldn’t that be enough?
“No one’s ever knocked John Reilly flat on his back before.” The marshal’s eyes were twinkling, and she wondered what that was about.
She sniffed, then blew a stray curl out of her eyes as she said, “Well, only because no one knows what I know.”
“And that would be?” The marshal waited, breath held.
A sudden eerie feeling slithered through her, that the marshal was crafty enough to get her to reveal the secret that Mrs. Reilly had shared with her and no one else. No one, except Aiden Reilly, knew about John’s weak jaw, and they certainly wouldn’t be finding out from her.
“I won’t be tellin’ the likes of ye,” she said before she could stop herself. Shooting to her feet, she gripped her skirts in her tightly clenched fists, lifting them up, ready to run.
“Ben? What are you doing here?”
Mrs. Swenson’s arrival held off the inevitable. Jessi’d only been in town an hour and already she was about to be carted off to the . . . what was the word she’d read earlier? Hoosegow? Yes, that was it! Hoosegow.
“I’m ready to go now, Marshal.” Jessi met his startled gaze and lifted her hands in front of her. “Will ye be tyin’ me up before we go?”
When the man neither moved, nor answered her, she licked her suddenly dry lips. “I’m sorry to have broken yer laws me first day here, but ye see I’m not meself. It truly was a terrible long journey, and I’ve only just eaten for the first time since last night and—”
The older woman stepped around the marshal and wrapped her arm around Jessi. “Whatever you think is going to happen, isn’t. Marshal Justiss would never arrest you just because you happened to strike John Reilly. Although the women in town usually go out of their way to get John to smile at them.”
At the woman’s words, Jessi’s belly cramped. So he had truly forgotten all about her. And why not, she thought, remembering a few of the women who’d been standing outside the mercantile before John Reilly barreled into her, nearly knocking her on her arse. There had been three she’d noticed right away, standing together in a small circle, and although they were older than she, they’d been prettily dressed.
Looking down at her travel-stained skirts, she wanted to weep. She’d shamed herself and her kin by her actions and her appearance. Needing to make amends, she looked up and met the kindly gaze of the woman who’d taken her in without a fuss.
“Mrs. Swenson,” she began, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. “I know ye’ve offered me a place to stay until I get me feet under me and find work, but maybe it’s best if I use the last of me money to buy a ticket for the stage.”
“Where would you go?”
It didn’t matter. Did it? Her heart would always be wherever John Reilly stood, not that the man would notice or care. Hadn’t he held her heart in his hands these five years past and done nothing but squeeze it dry?
“Anywhere but here,” she answered at last. The lone tear that escaped past her guard had her snapping out of her reverie. Loving John Reilly was her past and no doubt would be her future, but she’d be damned if she’d stick around long enough for the fool to know it.
“I’ve made a mistake,” she said looking at the marshal first and Mrs. Swenson second. “If you’ll not be takin’ me in, then I’d be obliged if ye’d tell me the name of the next town. I’m thinkin’ ’twould be a grand place to look for work.”
She was more tired than she could ever remember. The need to curl up into a tight ball of misery kept her from doing just that. She refused to cry over the man. Well, at least not when anyone else could see.
Mrs. Swenson looked at the marshal and nodded. What that was about, Jessi hadn’t a clue, but she didn’t really care. She’d made up her mind and she was leaving. “If ye’ll just tell me where John—er, Mr. Reilly left me bags, I’ll be goin’, then.”
“Why don’t you stay the night,” Mrs. Swenson suggested. “The stagecoach won’t be back this way until next week.”
“Oh.” That would be the way her luck had been going since she’d boarded that bloody ship! “If ye’re sure ye don’t mind,” she began, and when the older woman nodded, Jessi added, “and as long as ye let me help ye with yer chores.”
Chapter Four
Reilly came to and slowly opened his eyes.
His head ached like the devil was pounding nails into the back of it. If his jaw wasn’t broken, surely it must be cracked. His stomach roiled, and he knew he’d injured his brain again. The feeling was well remembered and unwelcome.
The last time it’d happened, he’d nearly been trampled by a bull, this time…his mind conjured up a vision of loveliness, and he groaned aloud.
“I was hoping you’d wake up soon.”
“Doc?”
The doctor lifted Reilly’s hand and slipped his fingers around to where Reilly knew the man would be searching for a pulse.
Reilly knew he was alive, and didn’t he ache in enough places know it? When he mumbled something to that effect beneath his breath, the older man chuckled.
“If you can think as much, you’re not as bad off a
s you’d led Mrs. Flaherty and me to believe.”
Reilly tried to push off the couch as he battled nausea and won, but was weak as water. Maybe his brain wasn’t as badly injured this time. “Bridget, why are ye still here?”
Her smile was soft and sweet as sugar. “I was worried about you.”
“I can take care of meself,” he mumbled, wishing his head would stop pounding and his stomach settle long enough for him to gather the strength to stand.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Bridget asked.
“Nothing to tell,” he grumbled. Women. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? She hadn’t been interested in him when he’d desperately wanted to hold her in his arms and protect her and her half-wild son from the world. She’d only had eyes for the man he worked for, his friend, Seamus Flaherty. Ah, but that had worked out for the best. He’d never laid his heart at her feet, as he’d done for…Pearl…his pride had been sorely trampled that time…but Pearl’d only had eyes for the town’s newest resident, a man from Boston.
He remembered belatedly that Bridget was expecting, and as such, needed to be wrapped in cotton batting and not exposed to harsh words or emotions. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Bridget,” he said, easing to the edge of the sofa so he could stand slowly without jarring his aching head. “I’d never meant to upset yer fragile constitution.”
The woman had the gall to laugh! And here he’d been bending over backwards to see that nothing he said or did would injure the babe she carried.
Women!
He’d never understand them, though he’d tried more than once. “Ye know yer husband, though one of me best friends, would have me skin tanned and tacked up to the side of his new barn if I said anything to upset ye.”
Bridget’s smile deepened. “I’ve always thought you were the kindest of men, John Reilly.” She rose, leaned close and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Why don’t you rest a little longer? I’ll explain things to Seamus.”
“I’d like to keep him here tonight.” The firm tone Doc used wasn’t lost on Reilly. He knew the man meant for him, not Bridget, to hear and obey his words.
The Irish Westerns Boxed Set Page 75
