King's Ransom

by Sharon Sala

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep the nausea that was boiling in her stomach at bay. She no longer hid the repulsion she felt in his presence.

  Duncan’s eyes narrowed, and an ugly smile came and went on his handsome face.

  “What’s the matter, princess?” he sneered. “Aren’t I good enough for you? Or am I not what you wanted after all? Let me guess…the princess wants the King, not the jester. Am I right?”

  Jesse gasped, suddenly aware of how defenseless and alone she was…and just how angry Duncan was.

  “Get out!” she ordered, drawing strength from deep within. She pointed her finger in his face and began advancing toward him. She wouldn’t be afraid…not in her own home. “Go home, Duncan.”

  Unconsciously Duncan backed away, surprised by her vehemence, but the ugly smile and threat in his demeanor remained. He wasn’t prepared to give up on this woman and her money this easily. He was too desperate.

  “You forgot about the weather,” he reminded her with a gleam in his eyes. “I can’t leave yet. It’s too dangerous.”

  “No, Duncan,” Jesse said ominously. “Not as dangerous as it will be if you stay here. Get out! Get out now…or I’ll tell King.”

  She couldn’t have made more of an impact if she’d slapped him. His easy way of life depended on staying within his nephew’s graces.

  “Damn you,” he whispered, as he grabbed his coat and gloves from the table in her living room. “One day you’ll be sorry, princess. One day you’ll be very sorry!”

  Jesse held her breath as he slammed the door suddenly behind him. She quickly locked the door and then sank limply onto the living room sofa. Her eyelids teared and she blinked furiously. Duncan was gone. She had nothing to cry about. Then she lowered her head to her knees and cried herself to sleep.

  * * *

  “Lunch is ready,” Maggie announced to Jesse, as she practically ran into the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows, but judiciously said nothing, as Duncan entered right behind Jesse with an odd expression on his face. Maggie knew there was old trouble between them but kept her thoughts to herself.

  “I’ll go get King,” Jesse offered breathlessly, and gave neither Maggie nor Duncan a chance to object. She exited the kitchen on the run.

  “You better put on some shoes,” Maggie called, but it was too late. Jesse was gone. “Here,” she said, as she placed a stack of plates in Duncan’s hands. “You can set the table.” She ignored his look of outrage and surprise and turned back to her pots and pans. It wouldn’t hurt him to earn his meal for a change.

  The hot, loose dust in the driveway made tiny poofs between Jesse’s bare toes as she hurried toward the horse barns. The thick, sweet scent of honeysuckle along the backyard fence wafted through the air, and Jesse inhaled deeply, satisfied, in spite of the heat, to be away from the cloying atmosphere inside the ranch house. A daring little sweet bee lit on the back curve of Jesse’s thigh and then quickly lifted off just before her hand reached him.

  Jesse squinted her eyes against the glare of the noonday sun and stopped for a moment in the shade of one of the red oaks lining the long driveway of the Double M. She held her breath and listened, then turned with a smile toward the gleaming white stalls where King’s brood mares were kept. She could hear him, even from here, issuing a short, decisive order to one of the hands. A horse’s neigh pierced the air in objection as men’s voices continued to call back and forth to one another. Jesse rounded the corner and slipped silently into the welcome depths of the cool, airy barns that opened at both ends to capture the maximum flow of air.

  A shiny, red king cab pickup truck pulling a matching air-conditioned horse trailer was backed into the barn area. It was obvious that King had just sold some of his stock.

  She watched as a young filly and two colts, part of his herd of two-year olds, were carefully loaded into the comfortable depths of the long trailer. She couldn’t hide her admiration at the way they responded to King’s handling. The beauty and clean lines of their distinctive build, their long, delicate legs, the magnificent width of their chests and long, flowing manes and tails belied the spirit and endurance for which the true Arabians were bred. She knew King suffered mixed feelings each time he had to part with his stock. Although that was why he raised him, selling them was always a difficult hurdle to pass.

  King carefully led the last of the young horses into the trailer and then stepped back, allowing the men to remove the loading ramp and fasten the end gate of the trailer securely. It was only after he watched to assure himself that the truck and trailer had successfully cleared the barn opening that he spied Jesse standing in the shadows. He began walking toward her.

  Jesse saw him wave and smile, then saw a frown appear on his face and knew why before he got within shouting distance.

  “Lunch is ready,” she said, hoping she could sidetrack his train of thought. It didn’t work.

  “Where the hell are your shoes?” he growled, and glared fiercely at the wide, blue eyes staring back at him with feigned innocence.

  This was an old battle they’d fought for years. Jesse knew it was only for her own safety that he continually cautioned her, but she loved the feel of going barefoot. And at the age of twenty-five, she was unlikely to change.

  “Come on,” Jesse chided, ignoring his bluffed anger. She hurried toward the ranch house, assuming he would follow. “Maggie’s waiting.”

  King narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the gentle movement of her breasts under the skimpy little blue top she was wearing, but didn’t succeed. Then he realized she had nothing on under it. That made things even worse. The sexy sway of her hips in the matching shorts did nothing to help the increasing pressure behind the zipper of his Levi’s, and he cursed roundly under his breath as he hurried to catch up. Maybe if he walked beside her and not behind it would turn his mind to a safer channel.

  “You didn’t answer me, Jesse,” he said, as his husky voice broke the silence between them. “You know not to come barefoot around the barns.” Then his voice grew gentle, and he slid his hand along her arm, tightening on her wrist as he pulled her to a stop and made her face him. Her quiet statement blew everything else from his mind.

  “Duncan is here,” she said.

  King felt her pulse jump beneath his fingers, and he sighed in frustration. He’d wanted to be present at the first meeting between them. He didn’t know exactly why, but he suspected there was an old, unsettled problem he should know about. Yet he was uncertain about how to get the information from Jesse. She could be so damn hardheaded.

  “And,” she continued, gently pulling her wrist from his grasp, “I’ll try to be more careful. I promise.”

  King didn’t know whether she meant she’d be more careful about where she went barefoot, or more careful around Duncan. But it was too late to ask as Maggie’s impatient voice hurried them both inside.

  King quickly washed and changed into a fresh shirt, brushed most of the dust and grass from his pant legs, and hurried to the table. He’d kept them waiting too long. It didn’t pay to pull this stunt with Maggie many times. She’d fed leftovers to the barn cats more than once rather than put up with tardiness at the table. He’d eaten dozens of baloney sandwiches because of it.

  The food was good, the cool comfort of the house a welcome relief, and the conversation was casual and very ordinary. Yet King had never sat through a more uncomfortable meal in his life. Maggie talked on and on about the weatherman’s repeated daily warnings of fire danger due to the extreme drought. Duncan alternated between charming Maggie and looking at Jesse with an expression King felt almost obliged to punch off his face. He reluctantly decided that would not be wise, and sat silently, fuming over a situation he didn’t understand.

  Jesse blithely refused to look at either Duncan or King. Instead, she talked too much about absolutely nothing. King didn’t know whether to shout or leave in disgust. The decision was shelved as the shrill peal of the telephone startled the quartet aroun
d the table.

  “I’ll get it,” Jesse offered, anxious to get away from the antagonistic atmosphere hanging over the table. She scooted her chair back so quickly, King didn’t even have time to blink as she grabbed the wall phone by the kitchen cabinets.

  King watched the expression on her face change to one of disbelief and then terror. He debated with himself for about half a second until he saw her chin quiver. That was all it took. He rose from his chair with a violent move and grabbed the phone from her hand.

  “Who the hell is this?” he asked. But the voice that answered him was not what he’d expected.

  He sighed as he pulled Jesse gently into his arms, and absently rubbed his thumb against a tiny mole behind her ear. The ill-concealed elation of Captain Shockey’s voice and the message he had for them were what they’d all been waiting for, yet at the same time, fearing would come.

  “Do you have him in custody?” King asked, and then turned and frowned at Duncan as he abruptly stood upright, knocking his chair over backward with a loud bang. He turned away too soon and missed the look of pure panic that accompanied his uncle’s odd behavior.

  “Okay,” King said, after listening to Captain Shockey’s request. “I want to propose an alternate solution to this new turn of events. Since all you have at this time are pictures, couldn’t you send copies to the Tulsa police department so Jesse can view them there? I don’t think she’s up to a trip back to St. Louis just yet.”

  King felt the breath leave Jesse’s body as she stood stiffly beneath his hands, waiting anxiously for an answer to King’s request.

  “Great!” King said. “That’s even better. And Shockey,” he said after a pause, “thanks.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to face his waiting audience.

  “The St. Louis police, acting on a tip from a store clerk, think there’s a good possibility that their suspect was caught on videotape as he entered and exited their store. They are sending a copy of the tape here for Jesse to see. You don’t have to go back to St. Louis sweetheart. You don’t even have to go to Tulsa.” He felt her relaxing against him. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Maggie.” Duncan said loudly, and reached down to set his chair upright. “I’ve got to be running along now. Thanks for the meal. And, Jesse…it was good to see you again. Take care.” He disappeared.

  “Well,” Maggie muttered. “Easy come, easy go.” Then she turned and pointed at Jesse’s drawn countenance. “And you, my dear, are due a rest. I don’t want any argument. King…” she pointed again, including him in her orders. “See that she minds for a change.”

  Jesse stifled a sob, threw her arms around Maggie’s neck, and kissed the mass of tiny wrinkles on her cheek.

  “I love you,” Jesse whispered in her ear. “And I almost always mind you.” Then, ignoring Maggie’s snort, she let King lead her from the kitchen.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly, as he watched carefully for any signs of undue stress. He didn’t want another flashback episode.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Thanks for helping me. I don’t know what made me freeze up. Hearing Captain Shockey’s voice made everything come crashing back. For a few hours today, I almost let myself believe that everything was more or less back to normal. The phone call was just a bitter reminder of how I’d been fooling myself.”

  King struggled with the urge to kiss every tiny frown that lined her forehead and made the usual tilt of her mouth droop with despair. The more he was around her, the more he had to struggle to keep his hands off. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he knew whatever he was feeling for Jesse had nothing to do with pity.

  “Would you mind running me a bath, King? I’m too sticky and dusty to sleep on anything but the back porch unless I clean up.”

  King made himself ignore the touch of her hand on his arm and refused to meet her eyes. He shoved his hands deep in the front pockets of his Levi’s and muttered, more harshly than he meant to, “Just use my shower. I’ve got to get back to the stables. There’s another buyer due soon and I don’t want to be late.”

  He backed out of her doorway and had to force himself not to run away from the stunned look on her face. He knew he’d sounded harsh and impatient, but showing his true feelings at a time like this didn’t seem prudent. Hell! he thought as he walked aimlessly to ward the barns. I don’t even know what my true feelings are.

  Jesse felt quick tears fill her eyes at the harshness of his voice and his hasty exit. She’d known this “coming home” thing wouldn’t work from the beginning. Unfortunately, for her own safety, she had no choice. No one saw her leaden steps, or the droop of her shoulders, as she pushed the door to his room open and quietly closed it behind her.

  It was late afternoon when King looked up from the rail he’d been nailing firmly back on the corral fence by the barn. He saw a cloud of dust coming closer and closer down the long driveway and frowned. He pulled an already damp handkerchief from his hip pocket and halted the salty beads of moisture on his forehead just before they slipped into his eyes. Then his heart quickened, and his feet began to move toward the ranch house before his brain told him why they should. It was the familiar shape of the white, four-door sedan and the long antenna whip on the back of the vehicle identifying it as a police car that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He realized it would be another sleepless night.

  “Hell of a deal,” the sheriff said, as he solemnly greeted King. He’d known the McCandless family for years, and held them in high regard. He had a daughter near Jesse LeBeau’s age, and knew how he would feel in similar circumstances. He hadn’t known of the attack on Jesse until he’d received the phone call and instructions from St. Louis. Later the same day, the special express package he now carried firmly in his grasp had arrived, and he knew what he had to do.

  “How’s she doing, King?” he asked.

  “It’s been rough on her, Sheriff. But she’s a survivor. She had to be or she wouldn’t be here today. I just hope to hell this is the man. I want the bastard behind bars.”

  The sheriff nodded in understanding and followed King into the house.

  “Have a seat,” King indicated with a sweep of his hand, as he ushered the sheriff into the den where a television and VCR rested on the shelf of the entertainment center. “Maggie will bring you something cool to drink. I’ve got to go find Jesse.”

  A quick word to Maggie produced the answer to Jesse’s whereabouts, and he went toward the bedroom wing while Maggie fixed the promised refreshments.

  King knocked softly on Jesse’s door. Nothing and no one seemed to be stirring. He knocked again a bit sharper. After receiving no response again, he pushed the door open, expecting to see Jesse sound asleep on her bed.

  The room was dark, the shades pulled against the glare of the hot July sun, and he blinked a moment, giving his eyes time to adjust to the change of light. When he was finally able to see, he frowned. The room was empty. King wiped a weary hand across his face and decided to freshen up before he went looking elsewhere. He didn’t have far to go.

  Jesse was curled up in the middle of his bed. Even in the deepest of sleeps, she hugged his pillow against her chest and face as King had held her against him the night before. The loose cotton shift she was wearing was twisted and bunched high above her knees and gave King much too much leg to try and ignore.

  “God give me strength,” he muttered softly, and walked over to the side of his bed. He felt his breath catch in his throat and had to swallow twice before he could say her name. Finally it came out in a husky growl.

  “Jesse, you better wake up, girl, or you’ll never sleep tonight.”

  His teasing voice penetrated her dreamless slumber, and she smiled into her pillow before rolling over on her back, stretching lazily against the teak-colored comforter on his bed.

  “Hi,” she said slowly, and a soft, gentle smile creased her lips as she stretched her hands above her head,
pulling her shift a tiny bit higher.

  King didn’t even know he’d moved. But he suddenly found himself on his hands and knees, straddling her bare legs as he braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

  “You lost?” he whispered, and gently pushed a dark, wavy lock of hair from her eyes.

  Jesse forgot to breathe. Her eyes widened and she knew her heartbeat could probably be heard in Tulsa. Please don’t let this be a dream, she thought, and refused to move a muscle for fear the dream would vanish.

  “No, I’m not lost,” she finally answered, and looked long and hard, trying to read the expression in King’s eyes. “I’m never lost when I’m with you.”

  Her words hit him in the stomach with fist force.

  “Oh, honey,” he whispered, and leaned forward, gently tasting the sleep-softened expression on her mouth.

  The touch was fleeting. The taste just a hint of what lay beneath him if he only dared take it. He raised up, leaning back until he was sitting on the back of his bootheels and felt as if he were being sucked up into the vortex of a storm. He doubled his hands into fists and pressed them fiercely into his knees to keep from touching her again. If he moved, he was afraid the next time he wouldn’t stop with a taste of Jesse LeBeau.

  Jesse closed her eyes as she saw him coming closer and was finally convinced she wasn’t dreaming as King’s lips met hers. It may as well have been a branding iron. The sensation was no less a mark of possession in her heart. Every inch of her skin felt alive, every beat of her heart in tune with his own. Just as she started to lock her hands behind his head and pull him closer, he moved away. Jesse had to force herself not to cry aloud at the pain she experienced, or at the distance once again between them.

  She watched in wide-eyed silence while he seemed to struggle with some overwhelming emotion, and wondered as she watched, why he had so suddenly stopped. Finally she could no longer wait, and gently ventured a touch on his leg and hand.