Two weeks of personal leave was more free time than Officer Kristen Ford could handle. A person could stroll down Pier 39 only so many times before feeling driven to leap off the nearest piling. The last thing she needed was to be compelled by sheer boredom into dwelling on her father’s recent death. She should be on duty, barreling down Divisidero in a squad car, breaking up gang brawls, settling domestic squabbles.
She needed to work. It was all she had left, now that the last remaining member of her family was gone.
But yielding to the powers that be, Kristen spent her mornings reading and catching up on “All My Children.” Inevitably, somebody from the station would stop by in the late afternoon to fill her in on gossip and sneak her any available paperwork on ongoing cases. Her nights consisted of reruns and microwave popcorn, tainted with a bitter attitude she couldn’t seem to shake.
Late one night, a loud knock at Kristen’s apartment door awoke her from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes to find herself staring up at the ceiling, her head thrown back over the couch. The theme from “Three’s Company” wound its way into her slowly reviving consciousness. She glanced groggily at the clock. It was two in the morning.
Sitting up, she rubbed her hand over her eyes and yawned. Her visitor grew impatient and leaned on the doorbell. “This better be good,” Kristen grumbled.
She dragged herself up from the couch. Without looking through the peephole, she turned the dead bolt and yanked the door open. A cold wind brushed her cheek as she frowned down at a tiny, unfamiliar woman standing on her doorstep in the glare of the porch light. “Don’t tell me, I’ve won ten million dollars in the Publishers’ Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.”
The woman looked as though she might laugh. Then she seemed to realize Kristen’s irritation and the bright smile melted away from her elfin face. “I’ve been sent to speak to you, Miss Ford.”
Kristen’s gaze drifted over the woman’s stylish, charcoal-gray suit with matching shoes, the brightly colored silk scarf draped over one of her shoulders, and the strands of pearls around her slim neck. “Riecher sent you, didn’t he?”
“Not exa — ”
“Look, I told him I don’t need therapy. I went through all of this when my mother died. I can handle it.”
“Of course you can,” the woman responded seriously.
Kristen leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me in my doorway, lady. I can tell when I’m being patronized. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble — I mean, Jesus, it’s two o’clock in the morning — but, really, I’m just fine.”
“Two o’clock?” The woman’s small eyes widened as if she hadn’t been aware of the hour. “The time of morning is of little consequence, Miss Ford. I am under explicit instructions to discuss this matter with you, on threat of dismissal.”
Kristen smiled at that. She knew Sergeant Riecher could be insistent when it came to giving orders. The poor woman had every reason to be in fear of her job. If Riecher ever found out Officer Ford was keeping tabs on her work while she was on leave, Kristen would be canned faster than Grandma’s peaches.
Tired of arguing in the doorway, Kristen decided it wouldn’t do much harm to let the woman come in and ask a few questions about her childhood discipline and toilet-training experiences. By now she was wide-awake anyway. She certainly had no pressing appointments in the morning. “You can come in for ten minutes, that’s all.”
The woman slipped past her. “I’ll have some tea and milk.”
Kristen threw her an irritated look and shut the door. “I don’t have any tea, any milk, or any coffee, for that matter. I’d offer you some cream-filled croissants, but the cook hasn’t made any yet this morning.”
The woman plopped down onto Kristen’s threadbare couch, her mouth rounding in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a — ahhh. You’re making a joke.” She smiled. “I like jokes — as long as they don’t pertain to me.”
Kristen began to regret her decision to let this strange woman into her home. She walked past the couch and stood, arms crossed, by the hearth. “Now you have nine minutes.”
The woman gave her a look of displeasure. “I have a question to put to you, Miss Ford.”
“I gather you have more than one.” Kristen assumed the good staff psychologist was here to pick her brain and then report the findings back to Riecher, whether good or bad. This mouse-sized woman could very well hold Kristen’s career in her hands.
“What would you say if I told you your entire life span is incorrect?”
Kristen narrowed her eyes. The woman’s question was odd, and she’d spoken in little more than a whisper. “That’s a figure of speech, right?”
The woman raised her dark brows. “I don’t think so.”
Kristen decided it would be best to play along. “I’d ask you what was so wrong with it.” She thought of her father’s death. “Besides the obvious.”
“Everything!” the woman cried, with such marked enthusiasm that Kristen recoiled in surprise. “Your family. Your home. Your date of birth — ”
“My date of birth?” Kristen repeated. This was the damnedest first session she’d ever experienced.
“Most assuredly your date of birth! My dear, you are a walking anachronism.”
“Anachrawhat?”
Appearing disgusted with Kristen’s inability to follow along, the woman said, “A misplacement in time.”
Kristen held up a hand. “Wait. If this is going to be a lesson on reincarnation, you might as well control your vocabulary. I don’t buy into that kinda stuff.”
The woman sighed. “I wish it could be as uncomplicated as reincarnation. No, Miss Ford, this is a rare, and quite twisted case of a person being deposited in the wrong time frame. It’s going to take the cooperation of at least one of the parties concerned. Since you have no further ties to this dimension, I chose to approach — ”
Kristen strode over to the couch. “Time’s up.”
“Time’s up?”
“I gave you ten minutes, and your time is up.” She took the woman by the arm and hauled her toward the door. “It’s apparent to me you’re not who I first thought you were.”
“But I — ”
Kristen opened the door and deposited the woman on the step where she’d found her. “Go dig yourself up another sucker, lady. Or better yet, get yourself a good therapist. You need one more than I do.”
The woman stood on the step, staring in shock at the closed door. “Well?” she demanded, looking up at the stars. “I did my very best. The girl didn’t even seem to care that I was risking my occupational status.” She paused. “Oh, don’t give me that,” she snapped after a moment. “Miss Ford only offered me ten minutes. I had no alternative but to get straight to the point. This isn’t my mess, you know. I’m not the Guide who sent her to the wrong site in the first place. Oh, but I’m always the one who has to clean it up, aren’t I?” She turned and began to walk down the sidewalk. “I always have to rush along behind all the incompetents, picking up all the bungled pieces.”
Her voice faded, and before long there was no sign of the woman ever having been there.
The sun shone brightly into Kristen’s window the next morning. She climbed out of bed and went into the shower, determined to wash away her dismal mood before it settled in for the day. Afterward she wrapped a towel around her wet hair, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a cream-colored sweater, and managed a smile for herself in the bathroom mirror. Her stomach growled brutally, and breakfast was now foremost in her mind.
Her refrigerated assets consisted of a bag of moldy cheddar cheese, a very old carton of strawberry yogurt, a half-eaten jar of Sweet Nubbins, and two sixteen-ounce boxes of baking soda.
The doorbell rang. She yanked the towel from her head and ran her fingers through her damp hair, hoping it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend stopping by uninvited, as he tended to do.
She opened the door and glared at the last person she’d expected to see again, and with an armful of groceries to boot. “I thought I’d made myself clear to you last night, lady, I’m not interested.”
Kristen moved to close the door, but the nervy little woman had the gall to block it with her foot.
“I understand your hesitation, Miss Ford.” Kristen could barely see her odd face behind an inviting box of Crunchy Crumb Donuts. “As you can see, I am really making an effort to get on your good side. Let me in and we’ll make breakfast.” The woman smiled around the grocery bag, as if the offer of food made her intrusion perfectly acceptable.
Kristen pressed her hands against either side of the doorjamb, blocking the woman’s way. “What is it that gives you the impression that I’m stupid?”
“Oh, you’re not stupid, Miss Ford,” the woman said. “I’ve never taken you for that. Even as a child you showed a remarkably sharp intellect and a keen eye for deception.”
Kristen smiled cynically. “That’s very good. I bet that little line’s earned you a buck or two. Tell me, is marriage to Donald Trump in my cards?”
The woman frowned. “The first thing you need to know if we’re going to get along is that I do not appreciate flippancy. My vocation is not an easy one, my dear, and your making fun of it does not rest well with me.”
“Does this mean I don’t get a fortune cookie?”
The woman’s dark eyes rolled toward the sky, and she mumbled, “She’s trying my patience.”
Kristen stepped back. “Then let me end this difficult situation.” She took advantage of the woman’s mistake of removing her foot and shut the door.
Kristen walked back to the refrigerator, bent on scrounging up something for breakfast.
“I’ve gone about this the customary way, Miss Ford.” Kristen froze to the floor, trying to make reason out of what she saw. “Time is too precious to waste any more of it evading your lack of faith.”
“How the hell did you get into my kitchen!” As a police officer, Kristen had been trained to react calmly to surprise attacks, but she couldn’t think of anything to do at the moment except stare.
“As I told you earlier this morning, I have something very important to speak with you about.”
The woman dropped her grocery bag onto the countertop, grabbed the box of Crunchy Crumb Donuts, and tossed them to Kristen. “Here. I know they’re your favorite.”
Kristen stared blankly at the box. They were her favorite donuts. Coming to her senses, she slammed them down on the trestle table beside her. “I don’t know how you got in here, but I want you out. And if you don’t hustle your buns, I’m gonna have you carted out of here in a tight white jacket with very long sleeves!”
The woman’s angry expression suddenly changed to one of pleading. “He needs you.”
“Who?”
“Your soul mate.”
“That’s it.” Kristen reached for the phone.
“You’re a disgraceful astonishment, Miss Ford,” the woman said in a tight voice. “I’ve been around for a long while, but not once has anyone ever had me carried off from their home. I haven’t done a blessed thing but attempt to help you.”
There was something about the woman’s reprimanding voice, a tone that reminded Kristen of her mother, that made her put down the receiver. She turned toward the woman and studied her for a good long while. “There’s something I want to know,” she finally said.
“And that is?”
“Why did you choose me?”
The woman laughed. “I didn’t choose you. You’re the product of an incompetent Guide. And I’m here to rectify the matter. It’s my job.”
“You probably saw the obituaries and figured I was a prime target, right? The grieving daughter with no living family to her name? Am I right?”
The woman moved closer. “I didn’t have to read the paper to know your father had departed. Yes, I have waited until his passing before contacting you. You would never have agreed had you any ties to this time frame.”
Kristen narrowed her eyes. “Agreed to what?”
The woman stood only inches away now. “A relocation.”
“You mean a change of job, a change of scenery?”
“I mean a change of life.”
Kristen tore open the box of miniature donuts on the table and shoved one in her mouth. “I suppose you have airline tickets and a passport for me in your purse?” she mumbled through her mouthful of food.
“Are you prepared to hear me out?”
Kristen’s stomach growled noisily. She eyed the bag of food on the counter. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll dig through there and make myself some breakfast, and you go right ahead with your pressing explanations.”
The woman paused, apparently deliberating about whether or not Kristen truly believed her. Then she nodded and began to pace the kitchen floor. “Do you agree that we all have an existence before achieving a temporal birth?”
Kristen lifted a carton of eggs from the bag, thrilled to find English muffins lying beneath. “Sounds good.”
“Do you believe we’re guided by a power greater than our own?”
“Uh-huh.” Kristen dropped a muffin into her pastry toaster and reached into the lower cupboard for a griddle.
“What of a purpose? Do you believe that each individual arrives here with an intent in mind, a preordained destiny, so to speak?”
“Now, there I’ll have to disagree with you.” Kristen peeled herself a banana, took a bite, and pointed toward the woman with the remaining end. “Belief in free will has always had sort of a special appeal to me.”
The woman pushed aside the piece of fruit. “I am not speaking of free will. I’m speaking of fate. Do you agree it’s fate that you meet the people you come into contact with every day? That each step in your life brings you closer to your ultimate purpose?”
Kristen began to crack open some eggs to fry. “If you’re telling me we all make free choices in our lives, but those choices inevitably lead us in one planned direction, okay. Yeah, I suppose I can handle that.”
“Can you handle the idea that you live in the wrong time line?”
Kristen paused. “More reincarnation stuff?”
“It is not stuff, Miss Ford, and I’ve already told you reincarnation has nothing to do with this. If we don’t act quickly, your soul mate will be forever lost.”
“Soul mate. You mentioned that once before.” Kristen returned to her eggs. “If you want me to follow this tale, you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
“He’s — ”
“He?”
“Yes. You’re a woman, he’s a . . . he.”
“Okay.” Kristen flipped her eggs.
“He’s your soul mate, the other half of you, the complement to who and what you are. As a rule, soul mates encounter each other during their mutual time frame and share their lives together. Each has specific qualities that balance the other out, like sweet and sour, light and dark, good and bad. Each set of soul mates has a Spiritual Guide such as myself. Naturally both members of the couple have to live in the same time and place. But, in your sad case, as in a few others, your Guide erred.”
“Erred?” Kristen slipped her fried eggs onto a plate and topped them off with a buttered English muffin.
“Inept is the only way to describe your previous Guide,” the woman muttered. “He sent you and your soul mate to different sites. You haven’t had the chance to balance each other out, my dear, and I’m afraid your mate has suffered the most from the separation.”
Plate in hand, Kristen sat at the table. “What’s this soul mate’s problem?” She blew on her steamy breakfast and picked up a fork.
“Well, he’s a . . . um . . . ”
Kristen glanced up. “He’s a what?”
The woman gave her a direct look. “He’s an outlaw.”
Kristen choked on her mouthful of food. “An outlaw? An outlaw! Who’s in charge up there? Wait, don’t tell me. God is really Abbott and Costello. They take alternate days off.”
The woman turned red. “That is certainly not the case.”
“Somebody isn’t too smart up there if they paired a copper up with a criminal,” Kristen said, laughing.
“You weren’t a copper and a criminal before this life. When you took him as your soul mate, you vowed to temper him with your goodness and guide him to a life of morality.”
Kristen jammed another bite of food into her mouth. “Well, it sounds like it’s too late for the guy now.”
“It’s not too late. That’s why I’m here. You have no further bonds to hold you to the twentieth century. You need to take your proper place in time before it is too late for him.”
Kristen finished off the last of her food and smiled. “I suppose you have a large, metal contraption with lots of fancy propellers waiting around the corner to whisk me back to where I’m supposed to be?”
“It’s not that complicated,” the woman responded. “All I need is your compliance.”
Kristen stood from the table. “I’ll get my purse.”
She stifled spurts of laughter all the way into her bedroom and found her shoes and purse where she always left them on the floor at the foot of her bed. What an incredible imagination, she thought.
She pulled on her flat-heeled black boots. The Guide would make a brilliant science-fiction writer. Kristen decided she would drop the poor woman off at the nearest hospital and see if they couldn’t do something for her.
Slinging her black duffel-style purse over her shoulder, she walked back to the kitchen. “I’m all set. What do you say we pass on the H. G. Wells model and take my car?”
The woman stood, her dark eyes wide. “So you’re agreeing?”
“Sure. Why not — ”
Kristen didn’t feel a thing. Nothing flashed or went black. She didn’t pass out or even fall down. She doubted she’d even blinked. The plain fact was, she now stood in the center of a railroad track, a hot wind whipping through her hair. Three pairs of hard, menacing eyes stared coldly down at her from faces covered with faded red bandannas.
Kristen’s knees went weak, to the point where it became an effort to stand. She stared in complete bafflement at the three men in front of her, vaguely noting their stiff positions on their horses, their covered faces, their drawn pistols. Her mind raced from one thought to the next in an attempt to rationalize how she’d come to be there. Then she hit upon the only conclusion: the donuts had been poisoned. They’d been poisoned, and now she lay in a hospital bed, lost in delirium.
A shot rang out, hitting the ground beside her feet. She spun around, only to come face-to-face with a gigantic black-and-red locomotive practically parked on her foot. She jerked back toward the men and blinked at the heavy smoke trailing from an old-fashioned pistol.
Then instinct took over.
She darted behind the train, slammed her body up against the black metal, and had her gun out of her purse before she noticed the engine’s heat warm her cheek. She could smell the acrid combination of coal and grease, could hear the scuffling of the conductor as he gathered the money the three men were demanding. She could see the reality about her, and suddenly she sensed the change in the air.
One of the men stepped out from the other side of the train. Kristen responded automatically. “Freeze!” She directed her shaky gun at him, trying to calm herself as she took in all that was happening around her.
He was a cowboy, from the dusty brim of his gray western hat to the worn leather of his gunbelt, from the tip of the relic Peacemaker he pointed at her to the scuffed toes of his cracked leather boots. By the hostile expression in his amber-colored eyes, Kristen could tell that Roy Rogers had not been his role model.
“What’s she doin’?” Kristen heard one of the other men call to him. The cowboy had been staring at her almost as hard as she’d been staring at him. Dust clung to his unmasked forehead and stuck in the lines around his eyes. “She’s just standin’ here,” he hollered back. His gaze moved over her clothes, assessing her. “I think she’s foreign.”
Kristen stared down the barrel of his casually aimed pistol. “Drop it, buddy,” she ordered.
“Drop it now. I want you down, mister, facefirst.”
From the change in his eyes, she knew she’d startled him with her demands. “She’s throwin’ around orders and pointin’ somethin’ at me.” He frowned suspiciously at her automatic gun.
“Well, if she’s all fired up, you best take whatever it is away from her before she hurts somebody,” was the irritated response.
Kristen demonstrated her best look of intent and saw a glint come into his eyes. “I don’t think she’s givin’ it up so easy.”
She could tell by his new squinting expression that he was reevaluating whatever his first impression of her had been. Then he raised his free hand in surrender and slipped his gun into the holster hanging down his right thigh.
Kristen gripped her gun tighter and shook her head slowly. “I want it on the ground.”
The man laughed, a cold sound, unnerving Kristen with his indifference to her. He folded his arms across his wide chest, content to stand there, blatantly disregarding her orders.
“I’m not going to tell you aga — ”
“Amigo!” Kristen heard a shout. “If you’re not out here by the count of ten, we’re leavin’ and takin’ your share with us!”
The cowboy unfolded his arms and held them out to his sides in an apologetic gesture. “Duty calls.”
Still determined, Kristen nodded. “Likewise.” Though she had no idea what to do with him, there was no way she was letting this gun-toting cowpoke get away.
The last thing she expected was for the man to turn and calmly walk away from her.
“Freeze!” she shouted. His steps didn’t falter. “Halt!” Jesus! She couldn’t just shoot him in the back.
By the time she’d followed him around the engine, he had hopped onto his trusty steed and ridden away.
Kristen turned back to the train, only to be blasted by its whistle as its wheels ground and screeched and began to roll slowly up the tracks. She was about to be left alone in the middle of God only knew where. If she was suffering from Lone Ranger hysteria, brought on somehow by the consumption of a bad Crunchy Crumb, then it wouldn’t matter what she did. But if, by the slightest, strangest chance, that little woman had actually . . . well, should she jump onto a train going to Mars, for all she knew, or should she just stay put and hope that with a little luck things might snap back to reality? Until she could come up with some feasible answers, Kristen chose to pass on modes of transportation that tended to attract armed robbers.
Whether lucid or otherwise, the best way to be found when lost is to stay put.‘
Staying put for well over two hours was not what Kristen had planned, though. After spending a while staring off into the empty distance, with nothing but tumbleweeds and groundhogs to keep her company, she began to think that perhaps the locomotive might not have been such a bad idea, after all. Her legs gradually regained their strength, her hands stopped shaking, and she believed she was handling the whole situation pretty well, considering she was in the midst of a Louis L’Amour delusion.
She began to talk herself hoarse, trying to reason out what might have happened, marveling at the power of the subconscious mind. Everything seemed so real. The air felt hot and dry, the sun felt warm on her back, even the railroad ties felt like wood and steel. Ah, but pain — pain was the one thing that wouldn’t be authentic. She could drive a nail through her hand and not feel it. Kristen pushed up the sleeve of her bulky cable knit and gave her arm a hard pinch. Pain registered quite clearly and she yelped, more from shock than hurt. She had felt it clear to her fingertips. Fear rising up in her, she threw back her head and shouted, “Laaaddddy! I don’t know what’s going on, but when I said I agreed, I wasn’t exactly being serious!”
She sat down on a railroad tie. A rumbling sound filled her ears, but it was no train. In the distance appeared a huge wall of dust, and through the center rode a group of mounted men. They charged up to her and stopped, their horses snorting and prancing beneath them.
“Who in the devil are you?” the man in front demanded.
Kristen caught the sun glinting off his silver star. “You must be the posse, right?” she said. She lifted her black purse strap over her shoulder. “Well, I’m a witness. I saw everything. You should ride me back to the station and take my statement.”
The sheriff and his five men chuckled. “Lady, the only thing I plan to ride is my horse.”
“I’ll take her up on her offer,” a man in the back piped up, followed by more laughter. “It won’t take me but a minute.”
“We got a job to do, Lewis,” the sheriff responded.
“Yeah, Sheriff, but doin’ a lady’s so much more fun.”
“Move out,” the sheriff ordered. Turning from Kristen, he kicked his horse into motion.
“Oh, but” — Kristen thought quickly — “but you’re going the wrong way!”
The sheriff stopped. He looked back at her with piercing eyes. “You saw which way they rode?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“You’re not getting a word out of me unless you hoist me up onto one of those animals and give me a lift back to your town.”
The sheriff didn’t look too happy with that answer. “Lewis!” he bellowed. “Give the lady a hand.”
Kristen blanched as the grinning Lewis, straggly blond hair whipping out from under his hat, lunged his horse forward. He took Kristen by the arm and heaved her up in front of him, locking one hand over her breast and pressing her up against his crotch.
“Which way?” the sheriff demanded.
Kristen pointed in the direction she’d seen the cowboy with the dirty gray hat ride. With a kick of the horse’s flanks, they were off. She clung to the saddle horn for dear life, swearing that if she fell and broke her neck, she’d hunt down that so-called Spiritual Guide and rip out her wings.
She was hot in her cable-knit sweater. Her legs were cramping. The man behind her smelled like bad yogurt.
Either she had been poisoned and now lay wallowing in delirium, or an evil fairy had just blasted her back to the past and left her there to die.
The horse beneath her trudged forward, bounding over fallen trees and boulders, moving ever upward. Kristen wondered when Rod Serling would step out from behind a tree and describe her fate to the viewing audience.
“Hold up,” the sheriff called from ahead. He pivoted his horse and trotted back to Kristen and Lewis. “I can see smoke from a camp up yonder. It’s time to put the woman down, Lewis.”
“Aw, Howard — ”
“You can’t keep her, Lewis. You knew that when I first let you bring her along. Now put her down.”
Kristen took hold of Lewis’s arm before he could lower her to the ground. “You’re not going to dump me here?” she inquired, too close to his rancid breath.
Lewis smiled into her face. “Ya see there, Sheriff. She likes me.”
“Put her down, Lewis.”
Kristen found herself planted firmly on the ground. She grabbed the sheriff’s bridle, and he looked down at her in surprise. “Sheriff, you can’t abandon me out here in the middle of nowhere.”
He eased his horse’s lead out of her hand. “Young lady, what lies up ahead of us is nothin’ for a woman.” He glanced down at her jeans. “Even a particularly strange one like yourself.”
“But I can help.” She pulled her automatic out of her purse.
The sheriff frowned down at the weapon.
“Darlin’, if that’s a gun, you best put it away before you get yourself hurt.”
For a brief, furious moment Kristen considered proving herself by putting a plug in Lewis. “You can’t just leave me here.”
“I sure the hell can,” the sheriff countered. “We’ll pick you up on our way back through, though, so don’t you worry yourself into a faint.”
Helplessly Kristen watched them move on without her.
Her throat was dry. Digging through her purse, she came up with an old stick of sugarless bubble gum and folded it into her mouth. She savored the new dampness in her mouth and then shouted, “Laaaadyyy!”
“What have you done, Miss Ford?”
Kristen spun around and faced the little woman. “Jesus,” she whispered. “You’re really here.”
The woman nodded. “And so are you.”
Kristen’s disbelief broke into a glare. “What the hell is going on? Do you have any idea what you beamed me into the middle of?” she shouted.
“Miss Ford, you have led them straight to him. Straight to him — ”
“I’ve been shot at, laughed at, stared at, and pawed at until I’m about to puke.”
“Those men are going to kill him!”
“I want you to take me home. Kill who?”
The woman sighed impatiently. “Your soul mate.”
“One of those train robbers? I couldn’t give less of a damn.”
The little woman looked horrified. “You can’t mean that. Why, that would be like letting them cut off one of your legs or arms. He’s a part of you — ”
“Not likely. Why couldn’t I have been soul mates with somebody easy, like Kevin Costner?”
“You chose him, and he you,” the woman insisted.
A train robber? Kristen doubted that. “So, just out of curiosity, which one is he? The one who shot at me? The one who laughed at me? Or maybe I’ve got it all wrong and it’s Lewis, the chivalrous deputy.”
“I’m not aware of who did what, Miss Ford. I was not there — ”
“Then how could you possibly know he’s going to get killed?” Kristen demanded.
The Guide cleared her throat as if about to make a standard speech. “I have a knowledge only of the immediate future. I wasn’t there earlier to witness your accounts, so I have no idea if he has approached you or not — though I can be quite certain he wouldn’t fire at you.”
“And how can you be so sure of that?”
“He couldn’t shoot you any more than you could shoot him. It doesn’t take a conscious knowledge of one another to feel the bond between you. You’ll understand more when you come face-to-face.”
“That won’t be happening. I don’t know how you did all this, I’m not even sure I believe you did do all this, but I want to be back in my apartment — now.”
“You can’t be serious,” the woman said, laughing. Then she got a look at Kristen’s serious face. “But you are needed here.”
“I’m not about to risk my neck for a man I don’t even know. He chose his way of life, let him live with it. Do I look like Mother Teresa?”
“I see,” the Guide said, clearly disappointed. “Well, unfortunately I won’t be able to return you to 1993.”
“What?”
“You agreed,” the woman reminded her. “You agreed to come here. If I recall correctly, your exact words were, ‘Sure, why not?’”
“But I didn’t believe you could actually — ”
“You agreed.”
“Are you telling me I can never go home?” Kristen demanded.
“No,” the woman said evasively. “What I am telling you is that I can’t take you there.”
“Then how — ”
“First you must fulfill a promise you made long ago. Then the decision must come from . . . higher up.”
Kristen’s eyes rounded. “God?” she whispered, feeling as though she should be ducking from prying eyes.
“If that’s the term you prefer, yes. Now, I won’t deceive you and say your days here will be easy. There will be many dangers, but I am convinced you have the integrity and willpower to pull yourself through and fulfill your promise.” The woman smiled.
“Wait a minute. What’s this promise?”
“A vow you made to temper your soul mate with goodness and bring him toward the light of morality.”
Kristen grunted. “Gee, is that all? I’m supposed to fulfill a promise I don’t remember making to some guy I don’t remember knowing?”
“You agreed to come here. Now you must keep your word.”
“And if I run into trouble? What then?”
“You aren’t the only one who is in need of help moving through time lines, Miss Ford. There are many who face the same dilemmas as you at this very moment. Therefore you will be expected to hold your own for extended periods of time.”
Kristen laughed bitterly. “Great, I’m on the time-share plan, alone in the land of the high-plains drifter.”
“You must find your soul mate and fulfill your promise to him.”
“Meaning I have a long talk with the guy about crime and how it doesn’t pay, and then I can go home?”
The Guide raised an eyebrow at this summation. “In a roundabout way . . . yes.”
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Kristen started walking in the direction the sheriff and his posse had ridden. This won’t be so hard, she told herself. I’ll see him, he’ll see me. We’ll have this spark of recognition. We’ll have a nice long chat and, wham —
A thought struck Kristen and she whirled back around. “We will know each other, won’t we?”
She stared at the emptiness around her. The little woman had vanished.
Kristen continued to walk toward the stream of gray smoke steadily rising up to the sky. She was amazed at the stupidity of those men as she scaled rocks and swatted at flies. Any Girl Scout knew that campfire smoke was a giveaway. She pulled another half-inch thorn from the soft sole of her right boot. The terrain was ruining her shoes.
She came to a solid rock crest. After crawling to the top, she hung her head over the edge and looked down on the train robbers’ camp. A little ways away, in the bushes across the river, would be the posse. That’s the way they always did it in the John Wayne movies. They’d hide in the trees and bushes until sunset and then rush in with guns blasting.
What she needed to do was warn the gang below without getting herself killed in the process. Her gun was out of the question. It made too much noise and would only start a full-blown shoot-out. She chewed her bubble gum and thought a moment, watching one of the men scoot around by the fire. She had nothing available to throw at them. She supposed the only other option left to her was a good solid shout.
She opened her mouth but heard a voice other than her own.
“You don’t know when to give up, do ya?”
Kristen turned. It was the cowboy in the gray hat. He’d removed his bandanna, revealing a week’s worth of black stubble covering his jaw and upper neck.
She smiled nervously at his rugged appearance. She had always appreciated a man with a gritty outdoorsy look about him, but this one was just a bit too authentic. “I thought you’d like to know, there are five men hiding in those trees over there.”
The man looked over his broad shoulder. “I counted six” — he looked back at her — “but you make seven.”
“Oh, I’m not one of them,” Kristen said quickly. “I’m only here to warn you.” She blanched at his cold glare. “And now that I have, I should be moving along.”
She tried to stand, but he pushed her back down with one leather-gloved hand. He stared at her for a moment, expelling a harsh laugh. “You’re quite a sight dressed in them boy’s clothes. Couldn’t the sheriff find a size that fit? But of course, you wouldn’t be as interestin’ in big trousers.”
Kristen shook her head, feeling a spark of fear at the cold way he continued to stare at her. “I’m not with them,” she said. She swallowed the tightness coming up in her throat. “Honest.”
“Nope,” he responded. “You’re with me.” He reached out and, with one mighty pull, lifted her up and flopped her, stomach first, over the front of his saddle. The pommel hit her full in the diaphragm, pushing the air out of her lungs. He held her on board with one hand, pressing on the back of her neck, shoving her chin painfully into his hard thigh.
If Kristen thought the posse ride up the mountain had been difficult, the ride down to the camp was just a cinder short of hell.
By the time the horse finally came to a stop, Kristen felt nauseated and bruised from head to toe. It hurt to breathe, and she wondered if she’d cracked a couple of ribs. The outlaw took her by the back of her hair and pulled her off his lap, dumping her hard onto the ground. Kristen added her rear to the injured list.
She struggled to her feet, holding her stomach where it felt like the pommel of his saddle had punctured her kidney. “You goddamned, bow-legged, two-bit Neanderthal!”
An angry light glittered in the man’s eyes, and Kristen restrained herself from saying anything further. In a change of tactics, she decided to try a little reasoning. “I came here to help you, to warn you about that posse, and this is how you show your gratitude?”
The man glared down at her from atop his pale horse. Lifting a boot, he gave her a shove in the chest that sent her back into the dirt. “I’ll be sure to show you my gratitude, honey, as soon as I’ve got the proper time.”
Kristen climbed back to her feet as another man, with thinning brown hair and a handlebar mustache, ran up to them. “You were right, Jack, I count six. Two up in that tree across the river, and four scattered behind them rocks. They got us cornered.”
The guy named Jack pinned Kristen with the cold amber of his eyes, but Kristen held his stare. “I wonder how they found us so soon,” he growled.
“Hank says that woman you caught led ‘em straight to us. Deceivin’ man-haters, each and every one of ‘em.” The man spat, apparently in disgust for the female gender.
Crossing her arms, Kristen narrowed her eyes at the skinny man. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”
Beneath his floppy tan hat, the man’s eyes wavered. “What you wanna know that for?”
“So the next time I step in something offensive, I’ll know what to call it.”
“Hell and damnation!” the man cried at Jack. “I suppose you want me to guard this piranha whilst you and Hank sit all cozy by the fire and make escapin’ plans?”
Kristen stepped back as Jack swung down from his horse. “Ain’t that your job, Bobby?” The tall outlaw took Kristen by the arm and shoved her against Bobby’s chest. “To shut your mouth and do what you’re told?”
“The deal don’t include baby-sittin’ no half-naked whore with the brains of a turnip.”
Kristen heaved herself away from the scrawny man. With one swing of her heavy purse she knocked the hat clean off his head and sent him back a few steps. “You got off easy this time, pal. You ever call me a brainless tramp again and I’ll feed you my shoe through your nose.”
Kristen heard Jack laugh behind her. She turned to see him walking toward a third man standing by the fire. “Don’t you walk away from me!” She hurried after him. “I’m telling you, I came here to help!”
He ignored her and kept on walking. She caught up with him at the fire, took hold of his arm, and swung him around to face her. “You’ve got a pretty rude habit there, Jack.”
He yanked his arm from her grasp, flinging her off balance and sending her, once again, to her knees. Kristen cringed as he towered over her, his hands reaching for her, but he was stopped short by the voice of the other man.
“Hold it a second, Jack.”
Kristen’s range of vision started about midhip and ended at the ground. The man Bobby had called Hank had nice thick thighs, and a shiny silver buckle that held up his gunbelt caught her eye. He wore tidy, dark-colored pants, and unlike Jack’s scuffed, cracked boots, Hank’s boots had a newly polished sheen to the toes.
A hand reached out, this time a helpful one, and Kristen took hold of it, climbing to her feet. This must be him. She knew it couldn’t be lanky Bobby over there, and there was no way it could be the primitive standing next to her. Hadn’t the Guide told her that she’d feel a bond the moment they came face-to-face? Hadn’t Hank for no apparent reason just saved her from this animal named Jack?
Hank’s eyes were a golden hue and much friendlier than either of the other two men. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and the dark texture of his hair glistened in the sun. Though clean shaven, he had that rugged look about him Kristen never failed to find appealing in a man.
He held her hand and smiled at her. Her stomach lurched at the contact. “Miss . . . ”
“Ford — Kristen Ford.”
“Miss Kristen Ford.” His smooth voice made Kristen’s ears tingle. “We’re in sort of a mess here — ”
“No thanks to her,” Jack interjected.
Kristen slid Jack a sidelong glance and then focused her attention on the charming man still holding her hand. “I understand.” She cringed inwardly at the breathlessness of her voice and quickly cleared her throat. “I have to admit I did lead those men here.” The handsome man’s smile faltered. “But I didn’t realize at the time. . . . I mean, I thought you were a gang of unscrupulous felons.” She laughed, as if she’d changed her opinion on that.
Hank’s full lips drooped on one side, his smile changing to a crooked grin. “That’s an understandable assessment, seeing’s how you just seen us rob a train.”
Kristen heard herself giggle. “I really would like to help you. If I can.” Where had that come from? Of course she could help. She could fight off that posse better than all three of them put together.
“This is all very touching,” Jack interjected. “But it’s about four hours till sunset. If we’re not gone by then, we’ll be dead before sunrise.”
Kristen removed her hand from Hank’s warm grip. “I suggest you — ”
“Who the hell asked what you’d suggest?” Jack snapped.
“I suggest,” Kristen repeated more firmly, “that you take me as a hostage.”
“Why the hell would we want to do that to ourselves, lady?” Jack asked.
“Because it’s the only way you’re going to get out of here, bright boy.”
Jack made another move toward her, but Hank’s hand on his chest brought him up short. “That ain’t a bad idea she’s got there, Jack. The posse ain’t gonna shoot a woman.”
Jack studied Kristen unnervingly. “You and Bobby ride out. I’ll give you five minutes before I follow.”
Listening closely, Kristen realized she was about to be stuck there with Jack while Hank rode away. How was she supposed to fulfill her promise if the guy ran off and she never saw him again?
“I could stay here with Hank.”
The minute she’d said it Kristen knew it hadn’t been her place to speak up. Jack and Hank both looked at her as if she’d sprung from the jawbone of an ass.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Hank said as he started toward his horse. He jammed a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. “But a pair of willin’ thighs ain’t enough to risk my life for.”
All the admiration Kristen had held for handsome Hank bottomed out in the pit of her stomach. A pair of willing thighs? Her disappointment wasn’t soothed by Jack’s snort of laughter. She gave him a look meant to kill.
Jack took her by the arm and pulled her against the hard wall of his chest. Wrapping one tight arm around her still-aching ribs, he lifted his gun out of the holster with his free hand. “You hold real still now, honey, and we’ll see if we can get out of this soon enough for you to slip into Hank’s bedroll tonight.”
“Could you let up?” Kristen twisted beneath his grip. “You already broke my ribs on the ride down here. Now you’re trying for my back?”
Surprisingly his arm did loosen a little, enough for Kristen to take a breath, anyway. He settled his gun below her chin and called out across the river. “I know you and your boys are hidin’ up there, Sheriff! I’ve got a real pretty lady here who would like to keep herself that way. My two friends are gonna ride outta here, and if you or your deputies shoot the first bullet, I guarantee I’m gonna shoot the second. Do we understand each other? Do we?”
There was a long silence. Kristen noted for the first time the birds singing in the trees and the high-peaked mountains surrounding her. She wondered where she was. She also wondered when she was.
“Yeah!” came the response at last. “We hear ya!”
From behind her, Kristen heard the sound of two horses clamoring up the trail. She and Hank were separated.
Jack pulled her down to the rocky ground and sat her in between his thighs. The gun never left the side of her face. He pulled her against him and rested his gun elbow on his bent knee. “We could be here for a while,” he said. “You got any more of that chew?”
“Chew?”
“That tobacco you’ve been jawin’ since I found ya.”
Kristen grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”
“Gimme some.” She felt the gun go a little harder against her cheek.
“The man’s demanding gum at gunpoint.” She rolled her eyes. “A more heinous crime I have yet to hear of.”
Jack cocked the trigger. “I can fix that.”
“I don’t have any more! This is the last piece.” She took the pink wad of gum out of her mouth and held it up for him to see.
“You carryin’ around any diseases I should know about?”
“Not unless you count yourself.”
“Then that oughta do fine.” He leaned toward her hand and took the gum between his teeth.
The dark stubble on his chin scraped Kristen’s fingers and she jerked back in surprise. “Congratulations, you’ve managed to turn my stomach.”
He chuckled low in her ear. “Sharin’ chew ain’t no different from a long, deep kiss, honey.”
“Now there’s a pleasant thought.”
After a few seconds Jack asked, “What is this?”
“I told you, it’s gum.”
There was another pause, then: “What the hell am I supposed to do with it?”
“You’re the one who took it, you figure it out. I wouldn’t suggest swallowing it, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’ll clog up your insides. Gum everything up and plug everything that’s not supposed to be plugged. Kill you faster than you can snap your fingers.” Thank God the man couldn’t see the smile on her face when he hastily spat the gum clear to the river.
“I’m sure Hank and Bobby are long gone by now,” she said, hinting.
“Is that right.”
“How long do you plan on sitting here?”
“As long as it takes.”
“You mean as long as it takes for you to get up the guts to move?”
She heard him pull a hissing breath in through his teeth. “You know, lady, there ain’t many women who’d sit here aggravatin’ a man with a gun. I gotta figure you’re either a ruthless killer, the stupidest female I’ve ever met, or one bun short of a dozen.”
“I’m a cop.”
“You’re a what?”
“A police officer. You know, bang bang, you’re caught.”
“Uh-huh. One bun short of a dozen. Hey, Sheriff!” he shouted over her head.
“I’m listenin’!” came the reply.
“It’s my turn now! Me and the lady are going for a ride. I know you’re gonna have a clear shot at my back while I’m trudgin’ up that trail. Might I impress upon you the fact that no matter how bad I’m shot I’m bound to get a bullet into this little lady before I fall.”
“Let the woman go, friend. She’s just some loony bird we picked up on the trail.”
Kristen gasped at that description. Jack chuckled. “Then it’ll be my gentlemanly duty to give her a ride back into town.” He stood and pulled her up in front of him. “Remember, Sheriff! The first shot is yours, but the second is mine.”
He walked Kristen to his horse, held her tightly to him, and climbed with her up into the saddle. This time the pommel hit her in a very uncomfortable place.
“Back up a little, would you? The last thing I need right now is an intimate moment with your saddle horn.”
He laughed at her, but did as she asked. “Most women would be happy for what they get.”
“Most women aren’t me,” Kristen responded.
“That’s a fact. You tellin’ me you’ve had better?” He kicked his horse and sent it up the steep trail.
“Than your saddle horn? You’re joking, right?”
“You sound like a green boy braggin’ about his first roll in the hay.” From the amused tone of his voice, Kristen assumed he was doubting her appeal to the opposite sex, and that rankled her more than anything anybody had said to her so far.
“You sound jealous, Jack. Could it be that you’ve yet to have an intimate moment with anyone besides yourself?” He kicked the horse harder and it lurched beneath them, taking them to the top of the hill. God, she wished they’d just shoot him.
“Pull the hammer back and fire, you idiots,” she grumbled.
“Coaching them, are ya?” he whispered in her ear.
She jerked away from him. “I make a living bringing guys like you down.”
“Whorin’s a commendable profession in my point of view. But there ain’t much we can do about it till we’ve cleared this posse.”
“You wish, buddy.”
“What I wish” — she felt his face in her hair as he spoke — “is that you weren’t so full of piss and vinegar, ‘cause you sure the hell smell good.”
Kristen shrugged him off. “Don’t you think it’s time you put that gun away?”
He reholstered his gun and kicked the horse into a fast gallop. They rode in silence, with only the sound of the hooves pounding beneath them. Every so often Kristen considered somehow shoving the man off the horse and riding off without him, but two hours later found her stopped at the same railroad tracks where she’d first seen him.
“Here is where we part, crazy lady.”
“But where’s Hank?” she blurted.
Jack shook his head. “Goddamn if he doesn’t do it every time. A touch and a smile is all it takes. Goes to show you how empty-headed women really are.”
Kristen slipped down from his horse. “I’d rather be abandoned in the hot desert than ride another inch with you, anyway.”
He flashed her a cold smile. “Damn, and I had six more to go.”
Kristen watched Jack ride off toward the hills, relieved to be rid of him. But how would she find Hank?
Jack was a speck on the horizon when she saw another speck coming toward her from the other direction. It was even someone she knew, she realized as the figure approached. She pulled out her automatic and leveled it on him when he was close enough.
“Get down, Lewis. I want that horse.”
Kristen rode the skittish horse along at an erratic pace, marveling at how easy it had been to steal the animal. Wasn’t horse snatching a hanging offense in the Old West? Lewis had practically handed her this one on a silver platter. Of course she’d had to fire her gun above his head to prove once and for all how adept at shooting it she really was. But after that, he hadn’t raised a single protest.
It had been close to six years since Kristen had ridden a horse, and even then it had been a carefully guided ride through the trails of Yosemite. Unlike other girls, when Kristen was young, she hadn’t wished for a pony, she’d wished for a BB gun so she could go target shooting with her dad. If only she’d been normal as a child, she might not be in such an awkward situation at the moment. The stirrups were too low for her to reach, and she had no idea how to raise them, nor the time to stop and figure it out. She had to keep resituating herself in the saddle, and every time she tightened her legs to do so, the darn animal beneath her would come to a lumbering stop.
Because she couldn’t reach the stirrups, she couldn’t keep herself planted firmly in the saddle. This made for quite a bumpy ride, and her insides felt like they were spinning through a blender.
She plodded forward, letting the horse have his way for the most part while she took a good look around her. Everything seemed as it always had. The trees were tall, the sky was blue — well, maybe a little bluer — and the smell of skunk tainted the air as it always seemed to do in the woods. If she didn’t know it for a fact, if she hadn’t seen it happen right before her lucid eyes, it would have been difficult for her to believe that she had somehow stepped back in time.
She took her sunglasses out of her purse and put them on to block out the glare. Snatching out an elastic ponytail holder while she was at it, she tied her hair back from her face. A quick coating of cherry-flavored sunblock on her lips, and she was ready for anything. She supposed anybody who chanced to be watching her right now would guess right away she was a stranger”to these here parts,” a woman in jeans and a big old sweater, sporting sunglasses and trying to keep herself seated on a horse.
She’d been riding for over an hour when she finally caught a glimpse of Jack in the distance, riding on that pale horse of his. She kicked at her own mount, urging it to move at more than a casual walk, but it didn’t — or wouldn’t — and Jack disappeared behind a clump of thick trees. If she could only keep up with him, she knew he would eventually lead her straight to Hank.
She grumbled and leaned forward in the saddle to give her tailbone some relief. Her horse slowed down at the base of a steep incline. She had to grip the pommel with both hands to keep from sliding back to the ground. Once at the top, she looked out into a shallow valley, and there, some distance away, staring in her direction from astride his horse, sat Jack.
Kristen yanked back on the reins. Was he waiting for her? Or did he think she’d stopped following him?
She dug her heels into the sides of her horse, sending it tearing down the hill. Jack spun his own mount around, kicking up a cloud of dust in his haste to get away from her.
Unfortunately Kristen’s horse couldn’t keep up with Jack’s, and she finally had to stop before she fell off. Damn! For the trouble of chasing him she’d compounded her blisters and gotten a faceful of dust.
“I see a pattern happening here, Pokey.” Untying the canteen from the horn, she uncorked it and took a long swallow. “Has it occurred to you that every time I meet up with Cowboy Jack, he seems to be in a hurry to go the other direction? Now which way do you think he’s headed?” She ran her eyes up the valley wall Jack had ridden toward and saw nothing but flat, grassy land. There was no place to hide up there, but there might be on the other side.
She urged the horse forward. “Come on, Pokey. If we plan to get me out of here, we’re going to have to find Hank and talk some sense into his fat head.”
At nightfall, Kristen reached the top of the valley wall and saw the orange glow of a campfire. The day’s ride had taken its toll on the muscles in her legs, but at least she’d finally found Hank. She hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with him next, but if she could only get to their camp before starving to death, she figured she’d be doing fine.
As she rode closer, however, Kristen grew a little nervous about her reception. Jack hadn’t exactly shown her the way with open arms, and the last time she’d seen Hank he was gladly leaving her to face whatever fate had decided for her. And tiny little Bobby seemed to hate women altogether. How were they going to react to her uninvited visit?
The question was answered soon enough when she heard gunshots.
Her horse reared, throwing her off. She groaned as her backside hit the hard ground. “Don’t shoot! It’s me! Kristen!” she shouted. She tried to make out their dark shapes behind the trees.
“We know it’s you, lady!” Bobby yelled. “That’s why we’re shootin’!”
He fired at her again. She crouched and covered her head with her arms. “Dammit, Bobby, knock it off!”
“Stick it up there and I will!”
“Stop!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
There was a pause in the gunfire. Crickets chirped in the silence. “What do you want with us, woman?” Bobby finally called out.
“I want to see Hank.” She tried to catch her breath.
“That figures.” This time it was Jack’s deep, sarcastic voice she heard.
“Jack? You tell Hank I’m here.”
“He knows you’re here. He’s the one who told Bobby to run ya off.”
That was just short of maddening. “Tell him I need to talk to him.”
Jack stepped out of the shadows. The moon reflected off his dark hair, giving a sinister cast to the angular features of his stubbled face. “I’ve never met a woman so hot that she’d chase a man halfway across Nevada.”
Nevada? She was in Nevada? She stood up and faced the man who seemed hell-bent oncoming between her and her ticket home. “I’ll make a deal with you, Jack. You leave me alone, and I won’t kill you in your sleep.”
“Now, that’s awful funny.” He flashed her a smile. “You’ve been following me around all day, and you want me to leave you alone?”
“I’m too tired and too sore all over to have a debate with you. Those damn stirrups are too long.”
He slowly reached out to her, and she shoved his hand away. She had dealt with his kind a hundred times before, full-of-themselves tough guys trying to intimidate a female officer with as how of masculine confidence. She’d handled him as she’d handled all the others.
She widened her stance and crossed her arms. “Listen, tough guy. I’ve got better things to do than stand here playing with you. Now, you either make your move or get off my back.”
Jack cocked his head at her. “Holy Mother, you talk funny.”
“It’s called literacy.”
“Is that right? Well, around here it’s called lunacy.”
Kristen stood her ground. “Are you going to tell Hank I’m here or not?”
Jack stood his ground. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you plan to accommodate the rest of us when you finish with him.”
Kristen didn’t need a translation dictionary to understand what Jack was driving at. “The rest of you?”
“Well, not Bobby. He’s sorta scared of ya.”
Kristen nodded and repeated what seemed to be Jack’s favorite phrase, “Is that right?” She stepped closer, staring into his shadowed eyes. “I think I know what you need, Jack,” she whispered.
One of his strong hands came up her thigh and slipped around to her lower back. “I bet you do,” he replied softly.
“And I’m the woman to give it to you.”
His other hand came up and she found herself encircled in his arms. “I bet you are.”
One good thrust with her knee and Jack was on the ground. “Stomach cramps, Jack?”
Kristen hurried toward the glow of the fire through the trees. She had to fight to keep herself at a fast walk instead of following her instincts and running.
Hank sat hunched over a plate of food. She came to a stop in front of him, and he looked up at her, his eyes a golden glow. Then he actually frowned. Kristen relaxed when his lips finally curved into a warm smile. “Miss Ford. I see you’ve found your way back to us.”
“No thanks to that hulking cowboy Jack.” She stared at Hank’s plate of runny beans and her mouth started to water. “God, that looks good.”
“Well, help yourself.”
“Don’t you feed that deceptive bitch!” It was Jack, come back from the dead.
Kristen shoveled up a tin plate of sweet-smelling beans and darted behind Hank before Jack could stride into the circle of firelight. Bobby hurried up beside Jack. “She about knocked Jack’s nuts into next week!”
Hank rumbled with laughter. “Now, that sounds mighty painful.”
Jack eyed Kristen from across the fire. “I plan to make it mighty painful.”
“Now, Jack, I could never have it said that Hank Parrish doesn’t help a woman in need.”Kristen felt the heat of Hank’s hand on her upper thigh. “And by the looks of things, this here is a woman in need.”
With Hank as her apparent refuge, Kristen glared smugly at Jack and began eating the pile of beans on her plate. They were a little harder than she liked and took a good amount of chewing, but they seemed tasty to a person who hadn’t eaten since breakfast. When she finished, she looked up to find all three men staring at her: Bobby in terror, Jack in rage, and Hank in pure admiration.
“She’s pretty, ain’t she, Jack?” Hank smiled up at her and Kristen smiled back.
Kristen’s contentment was short-lived, however, for Jack took that opportunity to size her up. “She ain’t got much of a be-hind,” he said.
“Her chest looks kinda smallish,” said Bobby.
“Sorta scrawny lookin’,” Jack added.
“Could take her for a boy in them clothes.”
Kristen tossed her dirty plate to the ground. “No, a hefty sowlike woman I’m not. But what kind of taste should I expect from two men who go around smelling like pigs?”
“Do we stink, Jack?” Bobby asked softly.
“Not to my accountin’.”
Hank stood up in front of Kristen. Her self-confidence blossomed at the sight of his broad, protective back. “Miss Ford and I have some private business to attend to. Jack, how ‘bout you and Bobby go walk off the beans or somethin’.”
Could it be that Hank knew she needed to talk to him? Did he know why she was there?
Jack hesitated, giving Kristen the feeling that he had something else to say. Then he turned and followed Bobby from the campsite.
“You have to forgive them for their lack of manners, Miss Ford. They’re a little cautious with women. Females have a tendency to be possessive, and vindictive, where we’re concerned.”
“Do you have a problem with my being here?” Hank probably didn’t even know Bobby and Jack had tried to run her off, she realized.
He answered with a slowly spreading smile. “Not at all.” He walked away from her and sat beneath the low branches of a pine. “Come here.”
Kristen moved toward him. It was then that she realized Hank had stretched out upon a pile of blankets. Maybe he didn’t think she was there just to talk. Sex at this point in a relationship was out of the question in her book of rules, soul mates or not. “I really don’t think me coming over there is such a good idea.”
“Why’s that?” That was disappointment Kristen saw on his face, and, naturally, she loved it.
“You and I hardly know each other,” she said, laughing nervously. That was a stock answer if she’d ever heard one.
“I’d like to fix that. Come on. Come here.”He waved his hand in a coaxing manner.
Though the man was attractive, the temptation just wasn’t there for Kristen. “I don’t think so, Hank.”
He sprang to his feet, obviously not too pleased with her answer. She was sure he would walk away from her now and probably never look back.
He took her off guard when he lunged for her, grabbing her wrist brutally. “We can do this nicely, or we can do this rough, sweetheart. Either way we’re gonna do this.”
“Let go of my arm, Hank.”
“Don’t make me hurt ya, Miss Ford,” he said, breathing hotly into her face.
Kristen wrapped the fingers of her free hand around his wrist, spun around, and flipped him over her shoulder into the dirt. “Guess I’m not in the mood, Hank.”
Jack stepped out from the trees, and Bobby followed him. It was obvious Jack was fighting not to laugh, while Bobby looked as if he was about to bolt for his life. “Looks like she got the best of you,” Jack said, an ironic twist on his lips.
From his place in the dirt, Hank glared suspiciously at the two men. “You been spyin’,” he accused them.
“Nah. We just thought we’d check up and make sure she didn’t kill ya,” said Jack.
No one could miss the amusement in Jack’stone, and Hank’s face heated beneath the man’sscrutiny. He scrambled to his feet and dusted off his pants. Then he turned toward Kristen.
She backed up.
Hank took a determined stride in her direction. She felt a jolt of fear and was about to dive for her gun when Jack’s voice cut the tense silence.
“Don’t let it ever be said Hank Parrish killed a woman, ‘specially over the fact that he couldn’t coax her into his bed.”
Hank paused midstep. Rage swelled his face as his upper lip curled against his teeth. “I want you outta here, woman! I want you gone!”
The snort of a horse aroused Kristen from a fitful sleep. Cracking open her eyes, she expected to be greeted with the glare of the morning sun. Instead the coldness of dawn surrounded her, making her burrow deeper into Lewis’s bedroll. Fortunately Jack had managed to cool things off between her and Hank the night before. The men had ignored her for the most part after that, even when she’d brought Lewis’s bedroll to the fire and settled in for the night.
“Get your damn bony butt movin’, Bobby, before you wake her and the dead,” Kristen heard one of them whisper.
“Dammit, Hank, ya can’t expect a man to rise before the sun and not take a bit more time gettin’ his brain in gear,” Bobby responded.
Kristen forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly, feigning the posture of sleep. She’d slept with her gun in her hand last night, and now she readied it under her blanket, hoping they weren’t planning to do something stupid like jump her in her sleep.
“She’s a frightenin’ thing, ain’t she, Jack?”Kristen heard Bobby whisper. “Even when she’s asleep. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her leap up spittin’ blood and sproutin’ fangs.”
“I heard her just last night plannin’ your demise, Bobby,” Hank said, chuckling. “She sat there on her bedroll, sweet as you please, talkin’to herself until the wee hours about how she was gonna stick her long fingernails into your neck and drain out all your blood. Ain’t that right, Jack?”
Kristen recognized Jack’s derisive snort. “She’s layin’ there like a dead mule. Probably can’t find the strength to move before noon.”
Kristen had to suppress the urge to spring to her feet. She could terrify Bobby and defy Jack’s comment in one fell swoop.
“Never underestimate ‘em, Jack,” Bobby said. “My daddy used to say a woman’s heaven when you’re payin’ attention, but disregard them for more than a second and they’ll turn on ya faster than a sunbaked viper. It’s true. Ain’t it, Hank?”
“You sure got all the answers, Bobby.”
“Well, you two are in for trouble if ya don’tlisten. A woman’s good for one thing and one thing only. And when you’re finished . . . run like hell.”
Both of the other men broke into soft laughter, and Kristen could picture the confusion covering Bobby’s face. Just to test them, she grumbled a little and shifted her legs.
The effect was instantaneous. “Shee-oot!”she heard Bobby cry under his breath. “Did ya see that? She’s wakin’ up.”
“Yeah,” Hank whispered. “We better hurry up and get outta here.”
Kristen tensed. They really were planning to leave her before she woke up.
She cracked open an eye. Hank was with the horses checking the cinch on his saddle. Jack was downing a can of beans by the embers of last night’s fire, and Bobby was sitting on a rock five feet away, watching her as if she were a big hairy spider.
Kristen squeezed her lips together to keep from laughing. She’d heard of homophobic, but gynophobic? This guy was one for the medical books.
“How many times have I got to tell you to get yourself over there and pack up that bedroll?” Hank said to Bobby. “If you’re not ready by the time we are, we’re gonna leave you behind with her. Get over there. Get!”
Bobby hesitated and then stood up from his rock. He would have to walk by her to get to his bedroll. She let him tiptoe by unmolested, giving him the gift of security for the moment. She listened to the sound of him packing up his bedroll behind her and tried to keep herself from twitching with evil delight.
When the moment came, it was even more fun than Kristen had anticipated. Bobby walked by, more confident this time, and Kristen stuck out her hand. She gripped the ankle of his boot and sent him sailing, headfirst, into the ground. Kristen scrambled out of her bedroll, giving full vent to her laughter, and sat down in the middle of Bobby’s back. “You boys weren’t planning on leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere, were you?” she asked with a smile.
Hank stared at her with an astonished look on his face, Jack’s fork had paused midway between the can and his mouth, and all the while Bobby lay screaming, “Get this she-cat offa me!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack muttered.
“You should be ashamed,” Kristen said. “You should be apologizing for even thinking of abandoning me out here.”
“Apologize to the woman before she snaps my spine!” Bobby cried. He covered his head with his hands and whimpered.
“Get off of him before he faints,” Jack said.
“Gosh, Bobby. I was just playing around.” Wide-eyed with innocence, Kristen climbed off him. “The way you’re acting, you make me think you don’t like me or something.”
Bobby leaped up from the ground. Trying to gain his composure, he dusted at his shirt and pants. “Crazy woman,” he grumbled. “Never can turn your back on ‘em.”
Kristen bent down to pack Deputy Lewis’sbedroll. “So where are we heading today, boys?”
Hank was the first to speak. “Headed? Why, we’re headed to a fair today. Ain’t that right, Jack?”
Jack tossed his empty tin can into the woods and moved toward his horse. “A fair . . . Yeah. Right.”
Kristen tied her bedroll behind the saddle on Pokey’s back. The three men climbed onto their mounts, and she followed suit.
They rode for at least two hours, long enough for the sun to climb into the sky and for Kristen’s stomach to remind her that she hadn’teaten since last night’s beans. The three men stayed ahead of her, talking among themselves, which is precisely where Kristen wanted them, up front and in plain view.
“Where exactly is this fair?” she called to them. She couldn’t believe they thought her stupid enough to buy that story. She wondered where they were really headed.
“Well, Miss Ford,” Hank called back to her without turning around. “You see, it’s like this. We travel the roads, charging reasonable fares. They give, they live. Understand?”
Kristen’s good humor fled. These men were roaming the roads, searching for some poor, unsuspecting citizens to rob. “How can you be so pleased about taking money from a person who worked damn hard to earn it?” she demanded.
Hank laughed at her question. “Because I don’t want to work damn hard to earn mine.”
“Laziness,” she snorted. “There’s a novel excuse. Usually it’s because their starving kids need food, or their dying mother needs an operation.”
“Oh, you won’t hear them kinda excuses from us, Miss Ford. We’re particular about being honest in our dishonesty,” Bobby said.
“That’s right, Bobby,” Hank said. “That’swhy we don’t object to havin’ a witness, Miss Ford. That is, if you insist on followin’ us, which I can see you’re hell-bent on doin’.”
“You give, you live.”
Hank, Bobby, and Jack, their faces covered by red bandannas, stood by a wagon filled with people. Jack had his gun drawn, and the people in the wagon looked completely terrified. Kristen had been riding a few yards behind them, not wanting to be associated with their crime.
All eyes turned toward her as she rode up. The mustached man driving the wagon stared at her with wide blue eyes, as if willing her to run the other way. His jaw clenched angrily, Hank went back to relieving the people of their money and valuables. Kristen could see the tension in Jack’s upper body and wondered if he was fighting not to turn his gun on her.
“You realize I can’t let you take these people’s money,” Kristen announced.
She heard a snort from Jack, a groan from Bobby, and a short laugh from Hank. “You plannin’ on hittin’ me with that black bag of yours?” Hank challenged. “You even swing down from that horse and you’re gonna be one dead filly.” But Hank couldn’t shoot her, according to the Guide, so Kristen made a move to dismount. Then Jack swung his gun around in her direction. This dangerous man was a whole different story. After what she had done to Jack last night, she knew he was just waiting for her to give him a good enough reason. She stared at the pistol and then looked up at Jack. His cold stare didn’t waver, and Kristen decided that getting off her horse wasn’t such a good idea.
“Does this make you feel like men?” she asked angrily. “Does this hike up that testosterone level to indescribable peaks?”
Jack turned back toward the wagon, and Kristen urged Pokey a little closer. A baby cried. Kristen watched a young mother in the back of the wagon try to soothe the infant. Two small children came into view, each clutching dolls to their chests, too frightened to breathe.
“This is despicable,” Kristen continued. “How can you sleep at night after stealing from babies?”
Hank reached out and snatched a doll from one of the children. The child squealed and scrambled to her mother’s side. Laughing, Hank held up the doll for Kristen to see. “It’s the easiest thing in the world.” He turned to the man driving the wagon and tipped his hat. “Thank you for your contribution, sir. I do hope we meet again.”
Kristen glared at the men as they climbed up onto their horses. Hank was so pleased with himself she thought she might be sick. This was no soul mate of hers. The children’s soft cries caught her attention and she looked back at the family in the wagon.
Without a second thought, Kristen kicked Pokey over to Hank, snatched the doll from his hands, and tossed it back to the little girl. She didn’t blink at the way Hank’s lip curled up over his teeth, or at the heated curses that followed. She only knew she’d helped that family, if only in a small way. To hell with Hank Parrish.
Kristen lay on Deputy Lewis’s bedroll that night, tucked warmly by the fire with her automatic once again gripped in her hand. There were three unscrupulous men not ten feet away, and she hadn’t a friend among them. The Guide had been right about Hank Parrish being in desperate need of some morality. After his actions that day, however, Kristen doubted she was the woman for the job. She didn’t even like him.
Her ribs still ached from the rough treatment the day before, and her backside was practically numb after another day of treacherous riding. Closing her eyes, she tried to drift off to sleep, determined that in the morning she would contact the Guide and see if she could renegotiate.
When morning came, Kristen discovered she’d slept much more soundly than she had the night before. The campsite was empty, eerily quiet. The ground where three other people had slept the night before was bare. She’d been deserted, and she hadn’t heard a thing. Judging from the position of the sun, it had to be close to noon.
She rolled to her back and groaned as the muscles in her legs spasmed, her reward for two days of hard riding.
Her horse stood tied to a tree a few feet away. At least they hadn’t left her totally helpless. A lot of good the animal would do her, though, if she couldn’t get off the ground to mount it. Out of sheer determination, Kristen managed to sit upright and reach slowly for her boots.
The inside of her mouth tasted like the bottom of a ditch. She’d never been able to start her day right without taking a shower first thing in the morning, and now she faced the problem of not being able to brush her teeth.
She clenched her jaw and struggled to the horse. Lifting the canteen off the horn, she used the water and her finger and managed to bring her mouth to some semblance of freshness. She pulled her brush out of her purse, worked the tangles from her hair, and then braided it down her neck. She took a bag of M&Ms out of her purse — she was always prepared for an unexpectedly long stakeout — tore it open, and started munching.
“Am I to understand things are looking a little bleak?”
Kristen turned to see the Guide coming toward her. She swallowed her mouthful of candy. “Bleak? Try dire. He left me. All by myself. Without a scrap of food or a hint of where to go from here.”
The Guide smiled. “Then you and Mr. Parrish have met?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kristen laughed sarcastically. “We’ve met.”
The Guide raised an eyebrow. “A bit more difficult than you expected, is he?”
Kristen popped a few more candies into her mouth. “Most definitely.”
“Well, he’s resolute on robbing a stage today, so you’d best hurry and find him. He’s just over that far hill.”
“Hold on. Before you beam back out, we have a few things to discuss, you and I.” Kristen hobbled a few steps toward the woman. “Now, this guy is great looking and everything, but he seems a tad” — she pressed her lips together, searching for the right word — “unbalanced. And maybe I’m jumping to conclusions here, but I don’t think he wants me around any more than I want to be around. Are you following me on all this?”
The Guide slowly nodded her head. “He’s feeling protective of you, that’s all. He’s trying to keep you from harm by forcing you from his life. Don’t be fooled by his rough exterior, Miss Ford. Deep down, Mr. Parrish is a man capable of strong emotions.”
“He’s protecting me? The only strong emotions I’ve been witness to are rage and greed.” Kristen sighed. “Let’s face it, lady, this isn’t going to work. I just plain don’t like the guy. And he’s not going to see any plausible reason for me to keep tagging along behind him. He’s going to keep running away from me.”
The Guide smiled again. “Then you must make yourself indispensable.”
Kristen gave the woman an impatient glare. “I have no idea how to go about rehabilitating a psychotic criminal, especially one who has no desire to change. Can’t we just forget this whole thing?”
“I told you in the beginning it wouldn’t be easy, Miss Ford. And to answer your burning question, no, there will be no renegotiation. Now you had best mount your stallion.”
Kristen looked back toward the horse. Pokey, a stallion? She turned back, but the Guide had vanished.
Kristen noticed something different right away: the length of the stirrups fit the length of her legs perfectly. She didn’t remember telling Hank that her stirrups were too long, but he’d obviously noticed and taken care of the problem before abandoning her to the jackals. Maybe the guy had a little bit of a heart, after all?
When she crested the hill, it was apparent that the Guide had been lax in informing Kristen of how far over the hill Hank was, because she saw nothing but a flat, dry valley for miles and miles before her.
She kicked Pokey. The faithful horse plodded forward, sustained, as was Kristen, on canteen water and a handful of peanut M&M’s.
It was a while of dusty, dubious riding before she finally saw Hank and his two trigger-happy companions in the distance. Kristen had no doubt that the three men had seen her, because amid furious glances in her direction, there seemed to be a heated discussion going on between Hank and Jack as she rode up.
“I thought you were gonna make sure she was taken care of.” That was Hank, and what seemed like concern for her lit up his golden eyes.
“I left her a damn horse. What the hell do you want me to say?” Jack snapped back.
Justifiably Hank looked further enraged at this meager bit of security Jack had left for her. Kristen pulled up next to Hank and joined him in glaring at Jack.
“I want ya to tell me this is all some sort of mirage, Jack. That she ain’t sittin’ a horse right beside me. That you haven’t jeopardized . . . what the hell has gotten into you?”
Yeah! Kristen silently joined Hank. Tell Hank that you didn’t intentionally jeopardize the life of his soul mate by abandoning her with no food, you bumbling cowpoke!
But then Hank said something that interrupted Kristen’s train of thought. “The woman’s been followin’ us around like a curse for two days, and you left her a horse?”
Kristen’s smug bearing vanished. “Wait a minute!” she shouted. “Wait just a lousy minute. Are you telling me,” she addressed Hank, “that you wanted him to leave me there with nothing? No food? No extra water? No means of transportation?”
“Lady,” Hank snapped, “for all I care, he could have skinned you alive and made shoes out of your tongue.”
Kristen dropped her reins and threw her hands up in the air. “I give up!” she shouted at the sky. “This man doesn’t give a damn about me, and yet you claim we’ve bonded for all eternity or some bull like that?”
“Woman?” Bobby whispered. “You have fallen off the planet Earth.”
Kristen shut Bobby up with one furious glance. “It’s pretty apparent to me, Madam Guide, that this guy is exactly what I first surmised him to be, an unconscionable criminal out to make a fast buck. You get me outta here, lady! I’d rather be riddled with bullets in the twentieth century than spend one more day in the presence of the hood, the cad, and the scrawny. Let the jerk fix his own damn life!”
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Hank barked. “Not only is she a bona fide pest, she’s deranged.”
Kristen jerked her horse in the direction from which she’d come. She allowed herself one look at Jack’s comical expression of confusion and mumbled, “Thank you for raising the stirrups.”
A brief flicker of denial crossed Jack’s face, but Kristen had now realized the indifferent cowboy went a dimension deeper than she’d first thought. After all, he had been the one who had left her the horse.
She glanced over her shoulder at Hank and wondered how the hell she could have been assigned to this man from among the many millions being born into the world. “Hank?” she said with a smile. “May your heart be filled with lead.”
Hank reached out and snatched the reins from Kristen’s hands. “Do you really expect me to believe you’re ridin’ out, never to return? Lady, you’ve been like a bad case of the crabs ever since you stepped out from behind that train!”
Kristen gave Hank a dramatic frown of concern. “You really need to look into some stress management. Those little veins standing out on your forehead might explode all over your face someday.”
Kristen found it surprising that she’d even thought the man attractive. When he thinned his lips, as he did now, and puffed up his cheeks, he reminded her of a lizard. “You take this bitch up into the hills, Bobby,” Hank snarled. “You put a hole in her the size of your fist. Make it a good one so she don’t plug it up and come chasing after us again.”
“I’ll take her,” Jack said softly.
“But, Jack.” Hank sobered. “That stage could be here any minute. What do we do if you’re not back in time?”
“I’ll be back.”
Without another word, Jack took Kristen’s reins. She followed him quietly as he towed her and Pokey back toward the hills. Though she knew what Jack had planned for her, Kristen wasn’t worried. It would have been stupid of her to fight three armed men, but once she was alone with Jack, it would be a snap to pull out her gun and put a hole in him the size of his fist. Then she was going to find that Guide from hell and demand her situation be reconsidered.
“You’re a fool.” They’d ridden all the way to the base of the hills before Jack offered up these priceless words of wisdom.
Kristen glared at his back. “Thank you very much.” She opened her purse and quietly lifted out her automatic.
“Talk about lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth,” he continued. “Ya know, when I left you that animal, I expected you to hightail it into Volcano, not come runnin’ back to Hank.”
Kristen fingered the cool handle of her gun. “Then you’re right,” she said. “I am a fool.”
Their horses started moving up the gradual incline, swaying slowly beneath them. Kristen watched Jack’s relaxed movement in the saddle, the way he matched the rhythm of his horse. “So, you gonna kill me, Jack?”
Jack stopped his horse and rotated at the waist to look back at her. He stared at her for a moment and then said, “I get the feelin’ if I did that, Miss Ford, you’d come back to haunt me. You’ve shown yourself to be nothin’ if not persistent.”
Kristen didn’t trust his answer enough to put her gun away. “What about Hank?”
“You leave my brother to me — ”
“That son of a bitch is your brother?”
Jack circled his horse and pulled up beside her. Calmly facing in the opposite direction, he looked down into the valley. “And this son of a bitch is his. Now, I suggest you take advantage of my inattention and ride like hell, Miss Ford.”
Kristen slipped her gun back into her purse and stared at the profile of Jack’s stubbly face, at the way his dark hair curled over the top of his ear, the way his tanned cheekbone sloped toward his nose. With all her attention focused on Hank, Kristen had never noticed how handsome Jack Parrish was.
Parrish!
The sudden realization hit Kristen like a two-hundred-pound suitcase dropped on her head from a passing airplane. Her eyes widened and she studied Jack more closely, thinking extensively on all they’d been through since their first meeting at the train.
Even then he hadn’t shot her, and she hadn’t been able to shoot him when he’d walked away. Although he’d treated her roughly when he had taken her hostage to outsmart the posse, he’d still deposited her right back on the railroad tracks, where her chances of rescue would have been good.
He could have shot her when she’d followed him to camp two nights ago, but he hadn’t. Instead he’d let Bobby, who apparently couldn’t hit the butt of an elephant, try to warn her off. And that night with Hank — she could see it all clearly now — he’d blatantly interrupted her confrontation with Hank, going so far as to goad his brother into not hurting her. He’d left her the horse with raised stirrups, and now he was setting her free, even though Hank and Bobby would surely put him through the ringer for it.
For the first time since her arrival, things were beginning to make sense to Kristen. It wasn’t Hank . . . it was Jack.
It had been Jack all along.
It took Jack a second to realize Miss Ford didn’t intend to move. He glanced sideways at her, wondering once again what kind of demented things were going on inside that pretty head of hers that wasn’t screwed on quite right.
She’d scared the hell out of him, charging up to him and Hank that way. The woman simply seemed bent on getting herself killed. Hell, women liked his little brother, that was a known fact. They liked Hank’s spiffy clothes, his neatly combed hair, his sugary smile. But Jack couldn’t believe this particular woman was so determined to ensnare Hank that she’d risk her neck to get him.
“Lady,” he finally said. “Do you want me to shoot ya?”
She raised one of her eyebrows, a tendency of hers he found damn sexy, and gave him a little half smile. “Do you really believe you could do that, Jack?”
That almost made him laugh, but he knew better than to show a woman like this anything except the cold, ruthless side of Jack Parrish, or the next thing he’d know she’d be chasing after him. “Honey, I’ve killed more men than you have petticoats.”
“I don’t have any petticoats,” she replied smugly.
Jack didn’t believe that for a second. There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t have at least two — one for church and one for tossing up over her head for optimum impact at just the right moment.
He studied her unshakable countenance, wondering where she had come up with such unwavering poise in the presence of a blood-thirsty bandit, and how she had the strength to stand up to a band of roaming outlaws whose only rules were kill or be killed, take or be taken, run or be run down.
No matter his generosity in letting her go, she still wasn’t budging. Jack looked away, deciding it was time to try to rattle her again. “Tell you what. I’m gonna give you to the count of ten. Then I’m gonna knock you off that horse.”
Jack heard something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but he didn’t look at her to find out for sure. He started at one, and by the time he reached six he began to wonder what the hell he was going to do if she didn’t move. Damnation! He’d knock her off that horse, that’s what he’d do.
By the time he reached ten, Jack had ground his teeth together so tightly the number was barely audible. Reaching out, he yanked Kristen from her horse and onto his. She sat across his lap facing him, her lips curving into a maddening smile.
He glared down at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He shook her. “Do you have a death wish, lady? ‘Cause if that’s the case, I just may oblige ya.”
She only smiled, patting him on the chest as she would an overexcited puppy. “This whole thing is damned infuriating, isn’t it, Jack?”
“Jesus Christ, lady. You’re a goose short of a gaggle.”
“Actually,” she said, rubbing her stomach, “I’m a meal short of a coma.”
“When was the last time you had a decent meal?”
“Do peanut M&M’s count?”
Jack cursed softly under his breath and reached back into one of his saddlebags. “Here.” He handed her a piece of jerky. “You okay on water?”
He watched her sniff the dried piece of meat before attempting to fold the whole six inches of it into her mouth. He pulled the length out from between her lips. “I’m impressed. But it works better if you chew on the end of it.”
“I’ve still got some water in that canteen thing.”
Jack sighed and said, “That canteen thing was barely half-full this morning.” He unlooped his own canteen from his horn and wrapped it around hers. He looked back and saw that she was looking curiously at buttons on his shirt.
“Are these bone?” she asked. She glanced up at him as though this fact was a surprise to her.
“No, ma’am, they’re lizard eyeballs.” She made a god-awful face and leaned away from him. She may be feisty as they come, he thought, but, damn, she was gullible.
He watched her chew on the strip of jerky for a while, practically mesmerized by the motion of her mouth and the workings of her little white teeth. He had a strong temptation to offer her his ear and say, “Go ahead, honey, gnaw yourself happy.”
Lord, she was an enticing piece of work, with her glittering gold hair and her shapely little hips. He’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t picture her in those tight denims, or that ungainly shirt that only made him wonder what might lie beneath it. He wouldn’t let her voice knock around in his head until he went nuts wanting to hear it again, and he wasn’t about to further the fantasy he’d flashed that first time he’d seen her standing all skittish behind the train. No, he wouldn’t imagine his hands tangled in her hair, her long bare legs wrapped around his hips. . . .
In one quick motion, Jack shifted Kristen back onto her horse. He was breathing a little faster than usual. She yelped, but he didn’t care, he was hurting a whole lot more than she was at the moment.
“Ride over the hills and head east,” he said.
“Uh-uh.”
“Uh-uh?” He took her face in a tight grip and pulled her closer. She grabbed his hand but didn’t try to break free. “Lady, I’m sure this has all been like a trip to the candy store for you, but you’re lookin’ at a man who could twist your head off your shoulders in one turn. I want you outta here. I want you back in Volcano, or wherever the hell you came from. You’re wastin’ my time, and I am through messin’ around.”
He released her. She rubbed the red marks his gloves had left on her jaw. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You were in a hurry to rob that stage. What a pity, I’ve probably kept you too long.”
“I suggest, for your sake, you start prayin’ that ain’t the case.”
She adjusted the strap of that funny black sack she always hung from her shoulder and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Why do you rob people, Jack?”
He wanted to laugh at that, but years of habit kept him from smiling. The result was a hollow, cynical sound even to his own ears. “Now there’s a stupid question.”
“Revenge against civilization? Restitution for all denied you as a child? Settling the score against those more fortunate?”
Jack crossed his arms and listened to her ramble. Where she came up with half the bizarre things she said, the devil only knew. Sometime sit was difficult just following her line of thought. “I rob people, Miss Ford, because it happens to be my chosen occupation. I enjoy it.” She gave him a skeptical look. “Now, why is it women find that so hard to believe?”
“Because nobody could possibly love a job where they risk their life every — “ She cut herself off and hesitated. “I suppose I understand more than I thought,” she said finally.
“Well, gee, ma’am, your understandin’ is all I need to live out the rest of my days a happy man.”
“What’s that?”
A cloud of churned-up dust was heading toward them. Two riders couldn’t kick that much sand. It had to be the stage. If Bobby and Hank had hit it, which he hoped they hadn’t tried when they were minus one man, the stage wouldn’t be in any shape to travel anywhere, let alone that fast.
Taking hold of Kristen’s reins, Jack led her up toward the top of the canyon wall. He dismounted and yanked her down beside him. They crept to an overhang, where they watched the stage speed by.
Pulled along behind it sat Hank and Bobby, hunched down over their horses to keep from falling off.
“Goddammit all ta hell!” Jack shouted.
He took Kristen brutally by the arm and practically tossed her over the edge to get her to look at the results of her interference. “Get a good gander, lady. Because of you, my brother’s gonna hang!”
“Because of me?” Kristen shouted. She wrenched herself free of Jack’s tight grip and backed away from the edge of the cliff. “I’m not the one who held a gun on the stage and demanded all their money! I’m not the one who could have shot somebody in the process!”
“If it hadn’t been for you, I’da been down there with ‘em!”
“Then if it hadn’t been for me, you’d be hangin’, too!”
Jack’s anger settled into a simmer. “Hank’s right. You are some sorta curse.”
He strode past her and swung onto his horse. “Where are you going?” Kristen demanded.
“To get my brother.”
Kristen grabbed his reins, and though she could see the impulse in his eyes, he didn’t yank them from her hand. “You’re only going to succeed in getting yourself caught right along with them, Jack.” She had to slow him down long enough to get him to think clearly. “Hank and Bobby won’t be hanged right off the bat. They’ll get a trial, won’t they?”
Jack gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah, they’ll get a trial. As if that would make a bit of difference.”
“Then you have plenty of time to think of something intelligent to do about this, instead of going off half-cocked.”
He relaxed back into the saddle. Kristen took this as a sign that he was coming around to her way of thinking. “You know I’m right. If you go in there with guns blasting, you’ll either get yourself killed or wind up in the same situation Hank and Bobby are in.”
Jack paused. “I suppose there’s not much I can do until dark.”
“Exactly. We’ll make camp outside of town — ”
“Don’t even start with me, woman. The last thing I need is you followin’ me around, foulin’ things up even worse.”
Kristen released his reins and set her hands on her hips. “This is not my fault.”
“Lady, if the sun fell from the sky, I’ve no doubt you would’ve had something to do with it.” Without even a wave, he kicked his horse and trotted away.
“I should let you go, you bullheaded cowpoke!” she shouted after him. “If you think I’m enjoying my little vacation in the wilderness, you’re one goose short of a dozen!”
She stood there staring stubbornly after him as he rode on, not knowing what she’d do once she lost sight of him. One thing she did know, she wouldn’t survive out here in the wilderness without him. Out of desperation, she dashed to Pokey, threw herself in the saddle, and urged the horse into a fast run.
When she’d finally caught up with Jack, he pretended not to notice her. That was fine with her. She didn’t enjoy his company any more than he enjoyed hers. Like it or not, though, they were stuck with each other, a distasteful fact she didn’t think he was ready to hear just yet.
“So now you’ve decided to latch onto me, is that it, lady?”
His long silence had only compounded Kristen’s anger. And now all he had to offer was a wisecrack?
“Listen, buddy. You apparently don’t like me any more than I like you. So how’s about we call it quits in the making-friends department?”
He gave her a cold look. “Is that what you want to be, Miss Ford? My friend?”
“What I want, Jack, is to go home. To the best of my knowledge that means spending some quality time with you.”
“Is that right,” he drawled.
“God, I hate it when you say that. It’s the most noncommittal answer I’ve ever heard!”
That made Jack laugh. “Is that right?”
Kristen grit her teeth and felt her upper lip twitch. “You’re a provoking, hot-tempered, foul-smelling jerk.”
He shifted in the saddle and produced something that might have been mistaken for a grin, but after knowing Jack for only three days, Kristen knew better than to hope for that. “Don’t you say the sweetest things.”
“Do you have some sort of problem speaking in more than clipped sentences?” Kristen retaliated. “The idea of riding the range with a murdering mute doesn’t exactly fill me with enthusiasm.”
“Then I suggest you turn yourself around,” was Jack’s response. But Kristen had no intention of doing that.
The day advanced as slowly as the mountains moved past them. Jack rode on, whether she stayed by his side or not. He seemed to accept the fact that she existed, but not once during the times she and Pokey fell behind did he turn to check on their progress. If she’d misstepped and fallen into the Grand Canyon, he wouldn’t have turned to wave good-bye. With Hank, Kristen had felt that if she whopped him over the head with a thick stick, she might win him over. But with Jack’s brooding stubbornness, she had no doubt that the stick would suffer the most.
Jack stopped suddenly, his attention frozen on the rise in the distance. His shoulders tensed, and he slipped his pistol from its holster.
“What is it?” Kristen followed his gaze, shielding her eyes with her hand.
“Indians.”
He’d spoken in a low voice, the kind reserved for dreaded things, and a thrill of alarm raced through Kristen. She could see them on the rise now, the sun blurring them into a darkened streak. “How many?”
Jack squinted. “Probably four or five. Too many to fight.”
I don’t suppose a friendly how would help any?”
“Renegades know only one thing, Miss Ford.”
“And that is?”
“Kill the white man.”
Kristen gathered her courage. “We can take four or five.” She unlatched her purse and lifted out her automatic.
Jack grabbed hold of her wrist. “We’ll be dead before I hit the first one. I want you to bury your heels into that stallion and ride, arrow straight. Volcano’s only about five miles ahead.”
“What about you — ”
“Wrap your legs around that horse and ride, woman!”
With a lusty “Yaahh!” Jack smacked Pokey’s flank and the horse took off. Kristen heard a piercing shout. The Indians had started their attack. She looked back and saw Jack keeping close behind her, but the Indians were gaining on them, pounding after them like thunder beneath the earth. She hunched over Pokey’s neck and said a silent prayer as arrows whizzed past her, landing in the ground mere feet in front of them.
Jack pulled up next to her. “Can’t you ride any faster than that!” The wind whipped against his hat and carried his words away.
Kristen shook her head, squinting at the dust in the air.
“Then say your prayers, lady! We’re two dead hombres!”
Was he giving up? Kristen had dealt with worse than this — waterfront gangs equipped with Uzies and sawed-off shotguns, drug dealers who would do anything to prevent an interruption of their business or a disturbance of their stash, murderers who would rather kill a cop than spend any time in jail.
She pulled back sharply on her reins and saw the shocked expression on Jack’s face as he raced by her. She spun her horse around to face the four men pounding toward her, screaming bloodcurdling cries far surpassing those she’d ever heard in the movies. She steadied Pokey and raised her gun, leveling off at the one in the lead.
The force of the shot knocked the Indian from his horse. His companions faltered, but only for a second, before they came charging directly at her, their painted faces distorted into masks of rage. Kristen fired twice this time, and hit both men she had aimed for. They both fell, leaving one shocked Indian sitting frozen on his horse before her.
Her heart pounded insanely in her chest. Her breath coming in short fast spurts, she watched the magnificent man lower his bow and arrow and stare at her in astonishment. She, in turn, slowly lowered her gun, in awe of a truly authentic Indian. His black hair hung loosely down his shoulders and back, except for one patch woven into a gleaming braid over his left ear. There were no feathers on him that she could see, and nothing covering his lean shoulders and chest. He wore a simple brown cloth over his hips and a quiver of arrows slung across his back.
A shot rang out. A tiny black-red hole appeared in the center of the Indian’s bare chest, and he joined his dead companions on the ground.
Kristen whipped around to face Jack. He’d dismounted and was striding toward her, his gun still smoking from the shot. “You bastard!” she shouted down at him. “He was surrendering!”
“He wasn’t surrendering.” Jack nudged the Indian’s body with the toe of his boot. He bent down and jerked a short-handled tomahawk from the Indian’s grip. Kristen had been so enraptured with his appearance that she’d failed to see the deadly weapon he had held in his hand. “This redskin sure had your attention, didn’t he?”
“I’ve never seen anything like him before.” Kristen continued to gaze at the tomahawk. She felt a tremble race through her. If not for Jack, that weapon would be embedded in her and not resting innocently in his hand.
He stepped over to her. Reaching up, he cautiously took the gun from her hand. “Where the hell did you get this thing?”
Kristen snatched it back from beneath his probing eyes. “It’s foreign.” She clicked the safety catch on and put it back into her purse.
“Foreign or not, that was some mighty pretty shootin’.” Admiration sparkled in the depths of his amber eyes.
“Now what? What do we do with these guys?” Kristen wasn’t in the mood for Jack’s sudden compliments. She had just killed three men and couldn’t still the trembles beginning to rattle her body.
“Nothing. Leave ‘em.”
Kristen didn’t argue with Jack’s callous answer. She hadn’t an idea herself of what to do with them and didn’t want to have to look at the Indians any longer than necessary, anyway. Giving Pokey a furious kick, she followed Jack as he led her away, determined not to glance back.
They made camp by a stream just outside of Volcano. Kristen sat quietly while Jack gathered dried weeds and twigs to build a fire. She was learning that staying out of Jack’s way was the best method of getting on his good side, or at least the best way to stay off his bad side.
“So what’s your plan?” she asked after he’d spooned her a helping of hard beans. She grimaced down at her plate. “Don’t you eat anything besides beans?”
“My plan ain’t any of your concern, and no, I don’t.”
“Isn’t.”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t any of my concern.”
“That’s right.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t explode after eating this day in and day out.”
Jack looked up at her through his thick lashes. “Ridin’ downwind of me has never been remarked on as a pleasure, ma’am,” he drawled. “But damn if I don’t stay warm in the saddle.”
Kristen laughed through a mouthful of food, the tangy flavor of beans burning her sinuses. She wondered if perhaps Jack Parrish had a sense of humor after all. She studied his eyes, contemplating whether she saw laughter or ambivalence.
“Where you from?”
His question knocked her thinking from one time frame to the next. She’d actually forgotten for a while how unbelievable her being there really was. It hadn’t occurred to her to tell anyone where she’d come from, not that they could think her any crazier than they already did. “San Francisco,” she replied.
“You’re a ways from home.”
“Further than you think,” she mumbled. “And how ‘bout you, Jack Parrish? Where are you from?”
Jack scraped his fork noisily against his tin plate. “Hell,” he murmured.
His response had been so soft, Kristen wondered if she’d been meant to hear it. “Now, there’s a distance.”
He snorted and tossed his empty plate to the ground in front of him. “Not so far on a fast horse.” He said no more on the subject.
Kristen finished her dinner, set her plate down, and propped her chin in her palm to stare at him through the flickering flames, wishing she could peek into his ear and read his mind.
He watched the fire. The shadows danced on his stubbly jaw, and the orange glow high-lighted his angular features. He drew circles in the sand with one finger, like a fidgety boy. From the intent look in his eyes, Kristen decided he must be thinking up a plan — one that would, without a doubt, not include her.
“I can help you, Jack.”
He looked up at her as though he’d forgotten her presence, and she caught a surprising glimpse of friendliness before he shuttered his eyes again. Kristen was struck with the strangest desire to drop down next to him and touch him. “If you’d only give me the chance,” she added.
“No.”
He seemed to be rejecting more than just her simple offer. “You’ve seen how I handle a gun. I can protect myself and you — ”
Jack’s shoulders tensed. “What makes you think I need your help?” he bellowed.
“Go ahead then!” she yelled back. “Go get yourself all shot up. See if I give a damn!” She stood up. “You aren’t the only one who can bellow, Jack Parrish. I can be just as bullheaded and gratingly obnoxious as you!”
Jack looked back to the fire. “Apparently,” he grumbled.
“Up yours,” she retorted.
He turned back to her. “Up my what?” he taunted, not quite smiling.
“Up anything it’ll fit, pal. Anything at all.”
His brows raised. “And if it’ll fit better up you?”
Kristen was not surprised he’d come up with a crude remark like that. “Then give it your best shot.”
Jack climbed to his feet. Kristen refused to take a step back. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face upward. “You oughta be careful with those kinds of invitations, Miss Ford.” She felt his hot breath in her eyes. “A man like me could take you up on ‘em at any given moment.”
Kristen lingered next to Jack in the darkness, wondering what the hell she thought she was doing. Was it the way Jack had adamantly refused her help that had made her so determined to come with him? Maybe it was the way his amber eyes had gleamed in the light of their campfire, the way his strong hands had pushed through his dark hair, the way his indifferent expression had dared her to help him. Or maybe it was all of the above. Regardless, she doubted that helping Jack with a jailbreak would be consistent with introducing him to a life of morality.
They had waited until the small hours of the morning before riding silently into Volcano, where Kristen caught her first glimpse of an honest-to-God western town. The roads were a mixture of dirt, mud, and potholes, littered with garbage and horse manure. Weathered boards served as sidewalks, and from what she could make out in the moonlight, not a drop of paint had ever touched a single building. Kristen had been to Disneyland, three times as a matter of fact, and this bore no resemblance whatsoever to Frontier Land.
Jack knew precisely where the jail was, which gave Kristen pause. Wasn’t that akin to your blind date knowing directions to the red-light district?
They wrapped their reins around a post plastered with fliers and Wanted posters across from the jail. Kristen noted the bars on every window of the jail and on the front door.
She pulled a stray flier off the bottom of her boot and read the smudged words and the date of June 17, 1890. “This says Volcano’s looking for a new marshal,” she said to Jack. “Maybe they don’t have anybody to guard the jail tonight.”
Jack didn’t answer.
“So what do you think?” she continued. “Can you squeeze through those bars?”
She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she heard his sound of impatience. “Miss Ford, I did not ask you to come along. As a matter of fact, I recall offerin’ you cash if you’d agree to stay put.”
“I’m supposed to sit out in the middle of Timbuktu while you trot up here and get yourself killed? I think not, Mr. Parrish. Now, I don’t suppose you’d like to let me in on how you plan to get through that door?”
“There weren’t bars the last time I was here.”
“I get the impression that your visits to these particular hangouts are frequent?”
“I’ve seen the inside of a few cells. Don’t tell me my tainted reputation lessens me in your eyes.”
“It’s not possible for you to be less in my eyes, Jack.”
He grunted and turned away. That was one more point for her. Kristen found herself enjoying holding her own with Jack’s indifference. It was certainly better than dwelling on the fact that she was stuck with the devil himself, doing everything she could to be useful so he wouldn’t cast her out of purgatory.
Jack settled his hat on his head and stepped down off the boardwalk. He strode across the street, not looking this way or that, and proceeded up to the jailhouse door.
Kristen watched him jiggle the locked door and peer in through the barred windows. There was no way to get in, and the knowledge of this made Kristen smile. On their ride into town she’d mentally prepared a flowery speech on morals and respect for the law. Now it seemed it wouldn’t be necessary.
She was still smiling smugly when Jack returned to her and said, “You got a bean stuck to your front tooth.”
Kristen wanted more than ever to knock his hat right off his arrogant head. “So you can’t get in. You gave it your best shot. Can you remember where we parked?”
“I’m gonna need some dynamite — ”
“Some what?”
“The general store’s just around the corner.”
“They carry that kinda stuff in a store? Wait a minute!” She took hold of his arm before he could walk away. He spun on her. Recalling the grave repercussions of the last time she’d grabbed Jack’s arm, Kristen let go in a big hurry. “You can’t just blow up the jail. You could kill people, including dear brother Hank.”
“Not if I do it right.”
He was walking away again, and Kristen stood there, powerless to stop him. She had to stop him. This could very well kill him, and where would she be then? If only she could think of another way for Jack to free his brother.
Then it hit her. It seemed crazy, but actually crazy enough to work. Her plan just might help Jack free his brother and get her soul mate back on the right side of the law all in one fell swoop. Back in the Old West, towns would sell their souls to get a hired gun as their marshal. Who better to put the fear of God in criminals than a man with a fast gun and a killer reputation?
With a skip to her stride, Kristen hurried after Jack as he turned a far corner. With that arrogant smile, those cold amber eyes, and a wildly embellished reputation, Jack Parrish was going to be the best candidate for marshal Volcano, Nevada, had ever seen.
“When pigs fly outta my butt!”
“Shhh!” Kristen glanced around the quiet street, the noise of a distant saloon perking her ears. The store she and Jack stood in front of was hushed in emptiness. “Do you want to wake the entire city? When was the last time you were in this town? Could anyone recognize you here?”
“Nobody nowhere could recognize me, lady,” Jack growled, “but eternity wouldn’t be long enough for you to convince me to run for marshal in any town.” He pulled his hat down low over his eyes.
“But, Jack, if we build you up as a hard-edged gunslinger, they’d kill to have you as marshal — excuse the pun. Come on, it’s safer than dynamite and a hell of a lot more fun.”
“It’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.” He turned back toward the store.
“And nuking the jail is born of pure genius?”
Jack paused in his efforts to wrench open the locked door. “It sounds to me like you don’t approve of my plan, as if that would make a difference in hell.”
“You’re going to bring the whole town out of their beds chasing after us, Jack. We’ll get caught, if we don’t get blown to smithereens first.”
“No one asked you to come along, Miss Ford.”
“So you keep reminding me. But like it or not, I am along, and I’m not about to let you get us both hanged.”
“To save our necks you’ve come up with this priceless gem of a plan? You figure this town to be so stupid they’d hire the brother of the man they’ve got locked up?”
“They don’t know who you are, you said so yourself,” Kristen insisted. “We’ll shave you and buy you some clean clothes. We’ll think you up a phony name. You’re about to become the fastest, meanest gun this side of the Rockies.”
Jack’s laughter fell just short of cruel. “The last thing I want is to be known as a fast gun, lady. I don’t long for an early death.”
It was time for Kristen to take another approach. “I understand,” she muttered. “You’re afraid.”
“What?” Jack spat out.
“You’re afraid they won’t believe you as a ruthless, lawless man. You’d rather take the easy way out and blow up the jail. You’re scared. It’s understandable.”
Jack yanked her, hard, against his chest, slamming the breath from her lungs. He stuck his face inches from hers, the brim of his hat resting on the top of her head. “You may be fine to look at, lady, but don’t fool yourself into believin’ I won’t slit your throat and toss you in the nearest ditch.”
Kristen felt Jack’s strong fingers dig through her heavy sweater and into the backs of her arms. Maybe provoking him hadn’t been the wisest of decisions. “Jack.” Her voice was shaking. “Jack, I want you to think about all your options before you run headlong into this. I don’t want you getting yourself killed — ”
“Why?”
It was only a single word whispered briskly, hotly into her face, but it made Kristen’s knees weak, made her pulse throb in her neck. As if a bolt of searing lightning had flown from the sky and surged through her, Kristen felt a sudden flash of recognition pass between them. She knew him only as a cold, ruthless criminal, but suddenly she found herself craving for him to touch her and kiss her. She wanted to feel the weight of this man pressing down on her. So much so that she almost gave in to the impulse to pull his head toward her. “Because impulsiveness breeds regret.” That was something her father had told her once, during one of his lengthy sermons Kristen had actually listened to. And she believed both she and Jack could profit from a little caution. “I — I think there might be a safer way to do this. If you get caught, it’ll mean the end of us both — and Hank.”
Jack’s grip relaxed, but he didn’t let go of her. “Hank. That’s it, isn’t it? The reason you’re here? The reason you’re all fired up about a little dynamite?”
Trying to ignore her desire, Kristen lifted her chin and glared. “If you’ll remember, Mr. Parrish, it was you who swore to break your brother out of jail. You who rode like hell on wheels to get to this town. And you who can’t blow the jail up fast enough. In my opinion we should dump Hank, and Bobby, and skip Dodge City in a hot minute!”
Jack stepped back, leaving Kristen relieved yet strangely bereft. She had to admit that the Guide had been right. Despite his insensitivity, his total lack of warmth, and his raw brutality toward her, Jack Parrish could get her heart pounding faster than any other man she ever met.
“I only want to get out of here in one piece,” she managed to say through the odd tightness in her throat.
Jack covered his forehead with one large hand and rubbed his eyes. “This could take months.”
Kristen’s hopes soared. “One week. That’s what I figure it’ll take to give you the reputation you’ll need. Then you can swagger up to whoever’s in charge and tell them you’re interested in the job.”
Dare she hope he might be considering this? Fear suddenly seized her. If Jack did agree, there would be no turning back. What if they were discovered?
Jack grunted. “I can’t believe I’m considerin’ this. What if they don’t give me the job?”
“Then I’ll help you light the fuse.”
“We’ll need a cover,” Kristen said hours later as they sat on opposite sides of a campfire.
Jack narrowed his eyes at her. He hated it when she said things he didn’t understand. Where was she really from? With those peculiar clothes of hers, he doubted it was San Francisco. France was a safer bet. The French had always been a little odd, from his point of view.
“And a hotel room,” she continued. She filled her mouth with beans. Then she looked up at him, her face pale in the firelight. “No offense, but the thought of living around a campfire for a week doesn’t excite me. You do have money, don’t you?”
Amazed that she could eat again at this late hour, Jack picked up a nearby stick and tossed it onto the flames. A shower of orange sparks popped up and floated skyward. “Plenty.”
“Good. Now, the first thing we need to do is make them believe you’re an intimidating, but honest gunfighter. You keep scowling, Jack, and the intimidating part won’t be so difficult to prove.”
Jack tossed her a black look, wishing he’d never agreed to her stupid plan in the first place. His brother was gonna laugh him out of his boots. Jack Parrish, Town Marshal? Dear Mother of God, what had gotten into him?
“You just leave everything to me,” she said.
Damn if that didn’t make him even more nervous.
“I’ll play your younger sister. That’ll make you more sympathetic, and it’ll give me the chance to spread around a credible story.”
“The deal doesn’t include you bein’ part of this.”
“You really believe you can pull this off alone?” She sat there, her head cocked, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Sheer determination kept Jack from vaulting the fire and sampling her full mouth, sheer determination not to surrender to the urge. “I’m sure I can handle it from here,” he said.
What irritated him even more than not being able to understand her, was that she always thought she was right, and in fact, she usually was.
“Alone, it’ll take you months to earn the reputation I can spread around in days,” she said.
“Is there anything you don’t know, Miss Ford?”
It took her a moment for the tone of his remark to sink in. “Did you just imply that I’m a know-it-all?”
Jack tossed another stick on the fire. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you sure as hell implied it. Come on, Jack. Let’s hear what’s on your mighty mind. Give us a taste of your great plan of action.”
“Have you always been this pushy?”
That did it. She leaped up from the ground. He expected her to stomp away, but then he remembered whom he was dealing with. She took three huge strides and ended up in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. “If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be dead three times over.”
Jack didn’t rise from his seated position on the ground. Instead he gave her the height advantage as he stared up at her, wondering what she’d do if he grabbed her and hauled her down next to him. “How do ya figure that?”
“I volunteered to be your hostage, saving you from the posse. I blew away three damn Indians. And if it hadn’t been for me and my quick thinking, there’d be little bits and pieces of you scattered all over Nevada from a dynamite explosion. People would be growing corn in your fertilizer.”
“Gosh, ma’am, I wonder how I ever survived the last thirty years without ya.”
“I suppose we owe the last thirty to Hank.”
Jack silently counted to ten. That’s what his ma had always done whenever he’d tried her patience a bit too far. The woman was trying to provoke him, he could see that. She couldn’t stand the idea that he remained calm while she set herself into a snit.
But Kristen wasn’t giving up. “No wonder you want Hank out of jail so badly. Who else could you find to tuck you in at night, and help you onto your horsey?”
Jack wanted to strangle her. Instead he replied, “I was sorta hopin’ you could do the first, and be the last.”
Kristen threw back her head and laughed, revealing the smooth slope of her neck. “Another crude remark? My, my, Jack, one wouldn’t think you were quick enough to keep up with an intelligent conversation.”
Neither of them moved. They held each other’s stare, and the air around them crackled with animosity. No woman on earth had ever dared to push Jack. But this was Kristen. Kristen was brave, Kristen was clever, and she was as tempting as hell.
At times he wanted her so badly he could feel it like a tight knot squeezing at his insides, like a fire raging through his veins.
He stood, but only after he was sure he’d collected himself enough to not touch her. “You’re a raving lunatic,” he said. He walked toward the horses.
“And you’re a jackass,” she threw at his back. He knew it drove her nuts when he walked away from her. Not able to let her comment lie, he smacked himself on the behind and said, “This, Miss Ford, is a Jack ass.”
Dawn crept over the horizon, and Kristen still couldn’t sleep. She felt infuriatingly miserable about having lost her temper with Jack earlier. A cool attitude in the face of one of her nasty rages had never failed to provoke her, and in an effort to goad Jack into a satisfying fight, she’d insulted him like a child. She needed to clear the air.
She’d never been able to hold a decent grudge. The idea of someone harboring resentment toward her had always made her quick with the apologies. But how did she smooth things over with a hardened man like Jack Parrish? She wasn’t so sure he cared one way or the other. While she sat up worried sick over whether he hated the sight of her, he slept like a baby on the other side of the dwindling fire. The man apparently had no viable conscience.
She sat there staring at his huddled form, one minute admiring him, the next condemning his every snore. Why couldn’t he just wake up and let her tell him how sorry she was? Why couldn’t he roll over and smile just enough to let her know he didn’t despise her as much as he seemed to? “Damn you, Parrish,” she mumbled under her breath. “Why couldn’t you have been a warm, sensitive beach bum, instead of a cold, indifferent outlaw?”
“You still blabberin’ over there?”
The sound of his rough, sleepy voice stuck Kristen’s heart to her ribs. “I thought you were asleep.”
Jack stretched his long legs out beneath his blanket and rolled toward her. He propped his head up in his hand. “You got somethin’ else you need to say to me, Miss Ford?”
Kristen pulled her itchy wool blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? You just really piss me off sometimes, Parrish. I am not a know-it-all.”
She heard him sigh. “I didn’t call you that, Miss Ford.”
“But you were thinking it,” she snapped.
There was a meaningful moment of silence. “Does it really matter to you what I think?”
“Yes,” she whispered so low that he couldn’t hear. Surprisingly his opinion of her mattered to her a great deal. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you care what I think?”
He hesitated. “I don’t even care what I think.”
“Well, that’s a great attitude. It leaves me with tremendous confidence in you.”
“We got a lot to do today, Miss Ford. Do you think it wise to lose so much sleep over somethin’ this paltry?”
“I can’t sleep angry,” she grumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She stretched out on her bedroll, tucked the blanket all around her, and closed her eyes. “Jack?”
“Yup?”
“I just want you to know I’m not mad at you anymore.”
“There’s a load off my shoulders.”
There was silence all around as Kristen felt herself drifting off. A light breeze ruffled her hair into her face and teased at her nose. Today would be her best chance to prove to Jack just how invaluable she could be. Today she had to make him glad he hadn’t abandoned her in the wilderness without a horse.
Kristen nearly jumped from her skin at the sight of the clean-shaven face staring down at her. Bright sunlight blinded her temporarily when she opened her eyes, but now there was no mistaking the smooth planes of Jack’s handsome face. What a crime it had been to hide that strong jaw behind all that dark stubble.
“You plannin’ on gettin’ up?”
Her eyes traveled over his crouched form. He’d changed from his brown shirt to a relatively clean blue one. From the lack of smell, she knew he’d bathed in the stream. He hadn’t put his hat on yet, and his neatly combed, dark head of hair glistened in the sun. “Don’t you look spiffy.” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed gravel.
He glanced down at himself, and then at her. Kristen instantly felt self-conscious. No doubt her hair was sticking up Don King style. She probably had creases embedded in her face from sleeping so heavily, and she could taste how foul her breath was. “My kingdom for a shower.”
“It hasn’t rained here in over three months.”
She didn’t have the patience at the moment to explain to Jack that rain was not exactly what she’d meant, although she’d gladly settle for a little sprinkle. She was tempted to use the stream as he had done, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to strip down in front of an unpredictable outlaw in a three-inch-deep stream.
“I suppose we should get moving,” she grumbled.
He handed her a piece of jerky. Just what she wanted first thing in the morning, a spicy strip of cardboard.
“Maybe you should put on a skirt.”
Kristen clenched the piece of jerky between her teeth and sat up. “I don’t have a skirt.”
“You expect to win over the town dressed like that?”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Kristen had to admit she was a little stained and dusty, but she didn’t smell half as bad as some of the men she’d come across in the last four days.
“Lady, you might as well ride buck naked into Volcano.”
Kristen climbed up from her bedroll. She pulled her oversized sweater down low over her hips. “You people are fooling yourselves dressing women in yards of material down to their toes. I’ve got a news flash for ya, pal, everybody’s got an ass.” She grabbed hold of the end of her bedroll and rolled it into a tight cylinder. Scowling, she hefted it onto her shoulder and stomped over to where Pokey stood tied to a tree.
Jack rustled around in his saddlebags and produced his discarded, very filthy, brown shirt. “Tie this around your waist.”
Kristen gritted her teeth. He was making her feel like the town tramp. “I’m not wearing that smelly rag.”
He took her by the arm and yanked her back against him. “You’ll wear it,” he said gruffly. He wrapped the sleeves around her hips and tied them in a tight knot against her stomach. “And you won’t take it off until I let ya. We’ll head straight for the dress shop so you can buy some decent clothes.”
Kristen spun away from him. His criticism stung more than the brutal grip of his hands. “I’ll take it off when I damn well please! Don’t think for a second you can lord over me, Jack. Either we work together or we don’t work at all.”
Jack climbed up onto his horse and turned it toward town. “Suits me fine, lady.”
Kristen mounted Pokey and headed after him. “God, you’re so pigheaded. You can’t stand the fact that you need my help, can you?”
“What I can’t stand, Miss Ford, is you bein’ so damn bossy all the time. You got more mouth than the Mississippi — ”
“And you’re about a ten on the irritation scale,” Kristen snapped.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then Kristen said, “I’ve been thinking about our names.”
“Is that right.”
Clenching her jaw, she ignored Jack’s stock response. “Since nobody knows me, we should keep my name the same to avoid confusion. And since my last name is Ford, that would make you the same.”
“Unless you’re widowed — ”
“I’m too young to be widowed.”
“Not by my accountin’.”
Kristen gripped her reins tighter. “What kind of crack is that?”
“Nothin’ kind about it.”
Kristen narrowed her eyes on the mountains in the distance, trying to remain calm. “I’m only twenty-four.”
“Only?”
“That’s a hell of a lot younger than you are,” she retorted. “You’ve got one foot already in the grave.”
“I’m experienced.”
“You’re experienced and I’m old?” she returned.
Jack kept his eyes straight ahead. “You should be married and have five kids by now.”
“Five?”
“Folks aren’t gonna believe you’re twenty-four and never been married.”
Kristen edged up next to him. Their horses rocked in time with each other. “Then I won’t be twenty-four. How’s twenty-two?”
Jack shook his head.
Kristen gritted her teeth. “Twenty?”
He turned and gave her a long look. “We’ll be pushin’ it.”
“Oh, well, thank you very much. You just play your part and I’ll play mine.”
“Why is Mr. and Miss Ford in Volcano?”
“Traveling.”
Jack cast her a dubious glance. “Traveling out in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason?”
“Vacationing. Visiting friends.”
“What friends?”
“I don’t know. You think of something.”
“We’re here for the gold.”
“Gold?”
“Just passin’ through Nevada lookin’ for a healthy claim.”
“Yeah, gold. But, gee, folks. If’n ya need yourselves a mighty rough ‘n tough marshal, I suppose my brother Jack here can accommodate ya.”
Volcano, Nevada, proved to be a different town in the middle of the day. Gone were the quiet, empty thoroughfares where the only movement was the dust in the air. In attendance were well over a hundred archaically dressed people milling about on the main street, peering in windows, chatting in groups on the boardwalks, and hustling back and forth across the crowded street.
“It’s like a ‘Little House on the Prairie’ reunion,” Kristen mumbled, staring as if she were a child at the circus. In her best estimation, there wasn’t a gullible face in the bunch. Where was the stumbling town drunk? The overweight and balding saloon keeper? The timid deputy? She had thought she would feel superior to these country bumpkins, with their down-home morals, outdated beliefs, and supposed lack of intelligence, but these people were plain intimidating. Her sudden cowardice could have had something to do with the fact that she planned to lie through her teeth to each and every one of them over the course of the next week. But the understanding of her fear didn’t lessen it one bit.
As promised, Jack led her directly to the nearest clothing store. He swung down from the saddle and then reached his arms up to her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered suspiciously. She felt like she’d just entered the land of Oz, and any minute now munchkins would attack her from the alleyways.
“I’m helpin’ you down.”
“You never helped me down before.”
“I wasn’t Jack Ford before.”
Kristen had never been helped from a horse. Unfortunately it showed. She ended up half-sprawled over Jack’s shoulder before she finally landed safely on the ground. “Sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed for herself and for him. But she’d liked the touch of his firm hands on her waist more than she’d ever thought she would.
Jack shook his head and led her to the store. A bell clanged as they opened the door. The smell of lavender filled Kristen’s nose. Yards and yards of colorful fabrics lined the walls, but there were no jeans stacked in the corners of this store, and no discount racks to sift through.
Pushy salespeople obviously carried over from generation to generation. No sooner had Jack said, “Buy what you need,” than a dark-haired woman charged toward them. She was wearing a heavy-looking dress that started wide at her toes, went tight at the waist and around the bust, and even tighter at the neck. The woman looked like she was being swallowed up by a gigantic blue bell.
“Something for the lady today?” she asked. Kristen knew darn well she had heard what Jack had said. The woman stood in front of them expectantly, her dark eyes gleaming for the kill, and Kristen wasn’t sure what to say. She looked helplessly to Jack.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’ve got some things to take care of. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Kristen stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. The clanging of the door chime signaled Jack’s mutiny. The woman took her by the arm and dragged her to the center of the store, standing her in front of a rack of dresses that looked so heavy Kristen was surprised the whole thing didn’t collapse.
“See anything that catches your eye?”
“Actually” — Kristen grimaced as she reached out and felt the tonnage of one long skirt — ”I was hoping for something a bit more . . . light?” She looked at the woman hopefully. Could there be any microminis stuffed in the back room?
The woman raised her dark brows haughtily. “I can have the dress made in any color you wish, my dear. Perhaps a pale gray?”
Kristen envisioned herself walking down the street dressed as Mary Poppins. “Don’t you have anything without such a tight neck?”
“Ah. You’re shopping for an evening gown. Something to wear at the mayoral ball? We have a few premade gowns to select from, and a wide array of patterns and styles.” She stepped over to a bolt of brilliant gold velvet. “With the right petticoats, this particular fabric would sparkle on you.”
“Petticoats?” Kristen practically squeaked.
“Well, yes. We can supply all your needs here, young lady.”
“And just what are all my needs?” Kristen hoped the woman would let her in on the secret.
The woman clasped her hands together against the fullness of her skirt. “That depends on how generous your husband is.”
“My hus — oh, he’s not my husband.” Kristen saw censure fill the woman’s eyes. “He’s my brother. My brother Jack.” That appeased the woman.
“Well, I’m sure your brother would want you to purchase all that you need, as he indicated before he left.”
“All right, then, I guess I’ll get everything I need.” Whatever that meant.
The saleswoman’s expression was eager. “Which is?”
Kristen smiled tightly and shrugged. “Everything?”
The woman’s hand flew to her clothed neck. “Wonderful.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Hildegard Stanley.”
Kristen took her hand. “Kristen Ford. My brother and I are in town looking for gold.”
“Even a miner’s sister needs decent clothing.” For the first time the woman took a good look at Kristen’s attire. She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed regally at her nose. “Your brother’s clothing seems a bit . . . small for you.”
“We both decided it was time for a new wardrobe.”
“Come in the back. We’ll start with a camisole.”
Camisole. There’s a word Kristen recognized. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
She followed Hildegard to a spacious dressing room in the back, where she was instructed to remove every stitch of her clothing. Kristen made the mistake, however, of modestly leaving on her bra and French-cut underwear.
Hildegard bustled back into the room, a pile of white garments draped over her arm. She took one look at Kristen and cried, “What in heaven’s name happened to your corset!”
Kristen’s hands flew up to cover her chest. “It — it’s the latest style,” she responded, thinking quickly.
The woman circled her, tugging at the back of the bra where the hooks latched. “I hardly think letting one’s tummy protrude is the latest style. And what are these?” Hildegard snapped the elastic on the leg of Kristen’s underwear.
Stepping from the woman’s reach, Kristen turned to face her. “The whole reason I’m here is to buy some decent clothing. Could we just get on with it, please?”
“You’ll have to take those off.” Hildegard sniffed.
Trying to overcome her uneasiness about being naked before the eyes of this apparently very condemning woman, Kristen took off her bra and panties. Hildegard didn’t waste a second in shoving Kristen’s head and arms through the soft white camisole and drawing closed the pink ribbon at the neckline.
“Now the pantalets.” Hildegard held out a pair of short white pants, the same lightweight material as the camisole.
Kristen took them and stuck in one leg. Then she frowned, pulled out her leg, and handed the garment back. “They’re torn.”
“I beg your pardon?” Looking insulted, the woman took them back and inspected every seam. “These are very finely made, young lady. Not a misplaced stitch on the entire garment.”
“Whoever made them forgot to sew up the crotch. Or is that hole for my third leg?”
Hildegard’s lips pursed, her face turning a light shade of pink. “Young lady. That is for the convenience.”
A hole in the crotch meant only one kind of convenience to Kristen. Despite her attempts not to, she giggled.
“A proper lady doesn’t discuss such things, but it is a necessary fact of life,” Hildegard said stiffly, holding out the pantalets. Kristen slipped them on. It felt odd to wear underwear and still feel air between her legs. She pulled on the pink ribbon drawstring at her waist and tied it in a bow.
“Now your hosiery.”
Kristen faltered in accepting this article. There was nothing worse than panty hose on a hot, humid day.
“Put them on carefully, and I’ll find you some pink garters.”
Kristen did as she was told. They weren’t panty hose, but real, old-fashioned stockings that hit her at midthigh. Pale pink with embroidered rosebuds going up the outside, they felt like fine silk against her legs.
Hildegard reentered, with numerous articles this time. “Here are your garters.”
Kristen pushed her foot through, eased one over her calf and up her thigh, and tied it into place. By the time she’d finished with the other garter, Hildegard was standing before her with another device Kristen clearly recognized: a corset.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Nonsense.” The woman wrapped it around Kristen’s back and fastened it loosely with a dozen metal pegs in the front. “You’re much too short of torso to abandon a corset. And we need to readjust the fullness in your chest the good Lord has given you.”
The woman circled behind, and Kristen waited warily, the corset scene from Gone With the Wind racing through her mind. “Not too — ” Hildegard yanked the ties in the back and the wind flew from Kristen’s lungs.
“Blow out all your breath,” the woman ordered.
“Not on your life!”
Kristen heard a displeased sigh. The woman fiddled some more and then stepped back to the front. “There you are. You’re all laced up.” She smiled.
“I suppose breathing isn’t a consideration?” Her ribs were being pressed together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and it felt as if she had a two-by-four glued to her spine.
Hildegard held up another garment, which closely resembled a camisole, and Kristen stuck her arms through that. The woman buttoned up its six shell buttons and settled it snugly over the corset.
Next came layers of petticoats, until Kristen felt as if she could stand without her feet touching the ground. Then Hildegard strapped on the bustle. Great, Kristen thought, a billion hours of StairMaster, and I’m reduced to this.
“I’ve chosen a plum-colored gown for you.” Hildegard departed and soon returned with a truly lovely velvet gown with short, off the shoulder puffy sleeves and, fortunately, a low-cut neckline. After stepping into yet another petticoat, which matched the gown, the dress was carefully eased over Kristen’s head, settled over her waist, and buttoned all the way up her back. With the addition of a pair of violet satin slippers, Kristen was ready for the ball.
Hildegard stepped back and smiled. “Lovely,” she declared.
Kristen stared at herself in the long oval mirror by the wall. She supposed she’d be fine as long as she never had to move. She had to be wearing at least fifty pounds of clothing. But she liked the way the corset lifted her chest, sort of like an extreme version of the push-up bra. “I’ll take it.”
“Good,” the woman chirped. “Now let’s get you out of it so you can try on some others.”
“Others? We just spent an hour getting me into all this. No, I’ll just wear this out, thank you.”
“Miss Ford, you certainly do not plan on wearing an evening gown out in broad daylight?”
“I don’t see why I can’t.” She was prepared to do just about anything to avoid being redressed. And redressed and redressed.
“For one thing, the dust will dull the velvet. And for another” — the woman faltered a bit, then whispered — ”your breasts are exposed.”
Kristen stared blankly, confused. “I’m only allowed to expose my breasts at night?”
“The dress is only proper in the evening, Miss Ford. Hence the term evening gown. Now, I have three or four lovely walking dresses I believe will suit you nicely.”
The woman darted out of the room, and Kristen had a feeling she would be in that store for the rest of her life.
Kristen wriggled in the pale blue dress she wore, fighting to get comfortable in the restricted confines of her tight corset. It gave new meaning to the expression having your heart in your throat.
It had taken her three hours, but she’d finally escaped Hildegard Stanley, who had promised to have the other dresses, hats, gloves, stockings, shoes, and underthings delivered to the hotel where Jack had acquired rooms. While Kristen had been pushed, poked, and prodded, Jack had been milling about town, renting rooms, boarding the horses, and having a quiet drink at the local bar.
He walked beside her now, moving easily in his comfortable denim pants, ignoring her for the most part, as he usually did. “Where are we going?” Kristen asked.
“Lunch.”
Kristen wove through a group of noisy children passing by them. “Good. I could eat a horse.” Her shoe caught on the hem of her long skirt and she stumbled. “Could you slow down a little?” she snapped. “It’s not easy hauling Macy’s entire fall line around on your back.”
Jack stopped, but not because of Kristen’s complaint. They had reached the hotel and local restaurant. They went through the open door, and Kristen stared up a long, red carpeted stairway. To the right was the reception desk, and to the left, a busy room filled with tables. It had been almost four days since she’d had a decent meal.
“I hope they have chicken. I could really go for a drumstick with some mashed potatoes and gravy.”
She followed Jack to a table, where they sat in uncomfortable silence, waiting for a waitress. He wasn’t looking at her, Kristen noticed right away. Normally he had at least one baleful stare to offer, but this afternoon he seemed captivated by the salt-and-pepper shakers and the napkin holder on their table.
“I’ll tell if you steal them.”
Her words broke his trance. He frowned at her.
A young-looking waitress finally came up to their table. “What can I get for ya this afternoon? We got fried steak, fried chicken. The barbecued beans are pretty good.”
Kristen flashed a look at Jack. His mouth twitched but didn’t quite reach a smile. “Those beans sound tasty,” he said.
“Don’t you dare,” Kristen threatened him. She turned back to the woman, who watched them with interest. “I want chicken. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy.”
The waitress nodded and looked at Jack. “We’ll have two chicken dinners,” he said.
Kristen scowled at him as the waitress moved away. “If I’m forced to eat one more bean, I’ll sprout.”
Jack’s eyes twinkled, but then his humor fled as quickly as it had appeared. “Miss Ford, I have somethin’ I’d like to ask you.”
Jack was actually starting a conversation? Kristen sat up in her chair to pay particular attention to this milestone in their relationship. “All right,” she whispered. “But call me Kristen. I’m supposed to be your sister, remember?”
With a flick of his wrist, Jack slid her sunglasses across the table. They spun and came to a stop against her folded hands. “What the hell is that?” he asked with a drilling glare.
He’d been through her purse. She’d foolishly left it hanging over the pommel of her saddle.
“These?” Kristen picked them up, opening and closing them, while Jack continued to stare at her suspiciously. “They’re sunglasses.” Why lie?
“Sunglasses,” he repeated in a doubtful tone. “They don’t look like any pair of spectacles I’ve ever seen. Why do they have mirrors instead of glass?”
“That’s the way they were made.” Checking to be sure no one watched, Kristen ducked down a little in her chair, slipped the glasses on, and whispered, “They protect your eyes from the glare of the sun. The mirrors are an added bonus. Nobody can see what you’re looking at.”
Jack sized her up for a moment, then he reached across the table and took them off her nose. “And what about these?” Unfolding his other hand, he dumped a wad of change and dollar bills onto the table.
“Uh.” Kristen smiled hesitantly. “It’s fake. See.” She held up a nickel. “The date says 1984. Funny, don’t you think?”
Jack wasn’t laughing. In fact he was looking more and more suspicious. “What’s this for?” Down onto the table went her combination calculator-address book.
Kristen groaned to herself. This explanation was going to be a tough one. How do you explain to a man who barely understands electricity that solar rays can power a machine that does math faster than a human brain?
She picked up the pocket-sized gadget and decided to avoid commenting on the thing all together. She slipped it into the pocket on the front of her skirt. “That’s just a silly toy I bought in Europe.”
Jack glanced about warily and then leaned across the table toward her. “It makes numbers.” He spoke low, as if what he were telling her would come as a shock.
“It’s all a cheap trick, Jack. You know, like magic. I collect things like this.”
Jack leaned back. Kristen held her breath as he delved into his pants pocket to pull out another oddity. “What magical things does this do?”
At the sight of the tampon dangling from his fingers, Kristen let out a shriek. “Give me that!” She snatched it from his hand. “Don’t you know it’s rude to rifle through a woman’s purse! You inconsiderate — what else did you steal from me?”
The conversation ceased as the waitress placed their food on the table. Jack stuffed food into his mouth, still eyeing Kristen from across his plate.
“I’ll thank you to stay out of my things from now on.” Kristen picked at her chicken. “You don’t see me sifting through your saddlebags. It’s disrespectful and — and insensitive. And it makes me think you don’t trust me.”
The look that crossed Jack’s face confirmed this. She dropped her fork to her plate. “You don’t trust me? After everything I’ve done for you, you don’t trust me? I don’t believe it. I’m risking my life for him, and he doesn’t trust me.”
“Seems to me you’re startin’ to get the idea I don’t trust ya,” he drawled.
“You’re the one who’s the criminal, not me. You’re the one who went through my stuff. What is it? What have I done to make you not trust me?”
“You led that posse straight to us,” he reminded her.
“That was a mistake,” Kristen grumbled. She shrugged dismissively. “I didn’t know who you were at the time.”
“Now that you know we’re the Parrish gang, everything’s changed?” he said in a low voice.
Kristen swallowed a bite of greasy chicken. “You don’t have to sound so doubtful. Of course everything’s changed. You wouldn’t understand. It’s all very complicated.”
An angry light flickered in Jack’s eyes. “Far be it for me to understand the crazed workings of an impassioned woman’s mind.”
Kristen stopped eating long enough to ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you think Hank’s gonna be forever grateful you’ve helped him break out of jail, you’re a leg short of the whole spider, lady. When it comes to women, he’s no more a fool than I am.”
Jack continued eating while Kristen debated whether or not to enlighten him. “You’re still stuck on the theory that I’m here because of Hank, aren’t you?”
Jack didn’t answer. He shoveled food into his mouth, signaling that he was finished with his end of the conversation. Why bother? He didn’t deserve the consideration, and he certainly wouldn’t believe her.
She ate the rest of her lunch in silence, snatching glances at Jack, who acted like she’d vanished into thin air. He was a stubborn man, no doubt about that. When he decided he was finished with a person, he was absolutely finished.
She drank down her glass of lukewarm water and stood. “Where’s my room?”
Jack wiped his face with his napkin instead of his sleeve, which shocked Kristen. He stood up, dropped a few coins on the table, and led her toward the staircase. “I’ll take you up.”
“I don’t need you as a baby-sitter. I can find the room all by myself.” She held out her hand for the key.
Jack gave her a hard glare and took hold of her arm. “I said, I’ll take you up. You know, your uppity attitude is starting to aggravate me, lady.”
Kristen attempted to wrench her arm free as they moved toward the bottom of the stairway. “No more than your obstinacy aggravates me. It’s nice to know we’re so evenly matched, isn’t it?”
A well-dressed young man stepped in front of them, blocking Jack’s way to the stairs. “Is there a problem here?”
“No problem at all, mister.” Jack smiled frigidly.
“You’re hurting my arm,” Kristen whispered. Jack’s grip relaxed, but he didn’t release her.
“Seems the lady isn’t interested in joining you upstairs, sir.” The man smiled back. “Perhaps you should let her go.”
“Perhaps” — Jack shoved the man backward with his free hand — ”you should butt the hell out.”
“Jack, stop!” Kristen shouted before the younger man had a chance to confront Jack again. “Please don’t shoot another one. Please?” She took hold of the front of Jack’s shirt.
Jack gave her a confused look. “Forgive my brother,” she said to the young man. “I’ve been quite a trial for him in the last few weeks, and his treatment of me is unfortunately deserved.”
The young man wouldn’t give up. He reached for her free arm. “That gives him no right to — ”
“You touch her and I’ll rip your heart out.”
Jack’s quiet threat sounded a bit too convincing, even to Kristen. She gave him a conspiring look before continuing with her drama. “Jack Ford, if you kill one more person, I swear I shall wire Mama about what a cold-blooded monster you’ve become in the last few years.”
The light of understanding finally filtered into Jack’s bewildered eyes. “If you didn’t attract every sweet-smellin’ poppinjay this side of Arkansas, I wouldn’t be havin’ to fight ‘em all off with cold lead.”
Kristen smiled up at him. “But this man is only trying to help me, Jack. He’s not sweet on me, are you, sir?” She turned to the suddenly pale young savior.
“I, um — no. No, I am not. Not that your sister isn’t the loveliest” — at Jack’s darkening frown, the man corrected himself — ”I mean the friendliest young woman in town. I think I’ll just be moving along.”
The man skirted around them. Kristen followed his progress out into the street, where he stopped a passerby to recount his harrowing experience with emphatic gestures and occasional rises in his voice. Even the desk clerk appeared cowed. Kristen smiled at Jack, and this time she allowed him to lead her up the stairs.
“It’s already working,” she whispered.
“Let’s hope some young hothead doesn’t take it upon himself to check my speed and accuracy.”
He led her to Room 3, inserted the key, and opened the door. The sight of the contents of her purse dumped all over the bed greeted her.
She rushed forward and crammed everything back into the black bag. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your hands out of my things from now on.”
“I’m heading for the saloon,” he announced.
“Show me where I can wash my face and I’ll be right with you.”
“You’re not coming.”
“I am.” She stood in the center of her room and crossed her arms.
“You’re not.” Jack blocked the doorway.
“I thought we’d decided you wouldn’t do this alone.”
“There are some things, Miss Ford, a woman can’t do, and some places a woman can’t go.”
Actually, seeing the inside of a smelly, dark saloon wasn’t high on Kristen’s list. A good nap was higher. “Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, relenting.
Jack relaxed his stance. “You’ll stay put?”
“For a while.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’d do best to stay put, lady. The streets get dangerous after dark.”
“Then I suggest you don’t make me come looking for you, Jack.”
He turned from the room and closed the door. Kristen listened to the thud of his boots as he walked down the hallway and back down the stairs.
Jack pushed his way through the swinging doors of the saloon. The smoke in the room clouded around his head and burned his already tired eyes. Though it was still a few hours before nightfall, a substantial group already crowded around the bar and poker tables.
Ignoring the timid glances of the other men in the room, he dropped into the nearest vacant chair and called for an entire bottle of whiskey. It would take more than one strong drink to rid his thoughts of the fetching firebrand waiting in the hotel across the street. Why he didn’t throw little Miss Ford to the bed and take her once and for all, Jack hadn’t the damnedest idea. There was just something about the woman that prevented him from treating her as he would any other female. One more good reason to finish his business in town and ride out in a big hurry.
The bartender dropped a full bottle and a glass on Jack’s table and darted back behind the bar. Although Jack hated to admit Kristen had been right once again, it seemed that her plan had already begun to work. Merely sitting in the saloon was earning him more stares than he’d had in a lifetime of crime. Not only had folks heard of his encounter with the young man in the hotel, they’d begun taking it upon themselves to embellish it. It seemed this new fella, Jack Ford, had knocked the poor mite down and held him at gunpoint until the young man had apologized for interfering in family business.
Lifting his glass, Jack drank to Hank’s freedom. He and Bobby would be out of jail faster than they could pin the marshal’s star on Jack’s chest.
“You Ford?”
Jack glanced up at the tall boy standing next to his table. He didn’t like the way the kid fidgeted in his presence, as if he were afraid the big bad gunfighter would whip out his pistol and shoot him for the sin of just standing there. “I’m Ford.”
“I — I been asked to tell ya, there’s someone awaitin’ ya outside. He says to tell ya to cock your pistol now ‘cause you won’t have no time to do it later.”
Jack dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Tell him I’ll be there.”
The boy scampered off. Jack poured himself another drink. It seemed he was being given an opportunity to prove himself a killer.
The loud shot awakened Kristen from her nap. She hurried to the window and lifted back the curtain. The setting sun glared brightly against the glass and cast long shadows over the town below. Apparently Volcano’s nightlife began even before the sun went down. Judging from the prone body in the street below, it looked like she’d just missed an authentic gunfight.
It was close to nightfall and Jack hadn’t returned yet. The time had come for her to go out in search of him.
She hadn’t even turned the knob when Jack barged in, his expression tense, his eyes wild. “You and your damn ideas,” he shot out as he burst past her. “That babe in arms is lucky I didn’t kill him.”
Kristen felt the blood in her face drain to her toes. “That was your gunfight?”
Jack spun around toward her. “Yes, Miss Ford. That was my gunfight. But I’d prefer to look upon it as a tutorial. If the kid’s got any brains, this’ll serve as a proper lesson for the little upstart.”
“I never dreamed — ”
“No, lady, I’m sure you didn’t. And I’m sure that kid down there won’t be the last to challenge me.”
“Jesus, Jack. You could’ve been killed.” Kristen took him gently by the arm. “Sit down, relax. Did he get you anywhere?” She searched his body with her eyes and gasped at a tiny streak of blood on his right thigh.
“It’s just a scratch,” Jack grumbled.
Kristen retrieved a damp cloth from the washbasin and dropped down on the floor between his knees. Pulling aside the tear in his pants, she dabbed at the nick in his hard thigh.
Jack made a painful hissing sound through his teeth. “That hurts!”
“All the more reason to clean it. Hold still.”
“I’ve been tellin’ you about this kinda thing all along. But you have a real hard time listenin’ to anybody but yourself. I never thought I’d see the day” — the pain made him hiss through his teeth again — “but damn if you aren’t the most arrogant human being I have ever come across!”
“Me, arrogant?” She ended her ministrations and tossed the cloth into the corner. “You’re one to talk, pal. I can’t even look your way without being trounced by a frown dark enough to cast the earth into blackness. Don’t you call me arrogant.”
“You’re mouthy, too,” he growled.
“Somebody has to keep the conversation rolling. Left up to you, we’d both have to be expert mimes!”
In the short moment of silence that ensued, something in Jack’s bright eyes honed in on the deepest desire in Kristen’s soul. She wanted him to kiss her, and had wanted it since the moment he’d lifted her down from the horse outside the store. Hesitating, she saw the animosity in his eyes fade and a flame of hunger flicker and ignite.
He bent his head, and she met him halfway.
Her thoughts dulled and her stomach jumped. She opened her lips beneath the gratifying pressure of his mouth and found herself being pushed back on the bed. She clutched at his broad shoulders and then twined her fingers in the thickness of his hair. A dizzying surge of pleasure coursed through her. With a lazy, sensuous movement, he rubbed his tongue against hers.
Dear God, she felt weak. When she felt Jack’s large hand slide up her stomach and press into her breast through the stiffness of her corset, she knew she’d died and gone to heaven.
His mouth continued to caress her lips. She welcomed his weight, ran her fingers over his muscular shoulders and down his arms. He moved against her, his touch tantalizing her. She could feel a slow warmth spreading through her.
His tongue traced a path to her earlobe. “I’ll pay you whatever it takes, Kristen, whatever it takes . . . .”
Kristen’s eyes flew open. “Pay me?” Her passion froze like water in winter. “Pay me!” she screeched.
“Jesus, all right.” Grumbling, Jack climbed off her and pulled a fold of bills from his pocket. “Couldn’t this wait till we were finished?”
Astonished, Kristen lumbered up and struggled to stand in the center of the bed. “You slimy son of a bitch! I don’t want your goddamned money. Get the hell out of my room!” She picked up a porcelain figurine from the nightstand and threw it at him. “Get out!”
The figurine missed him by a hair and shattered against the wall. Startled, Jack pointed a warning finger at her. “Playing hard to get is no way to earn a livin’, Miss Ford.”
“I am not a prostitute!” she screamed. “I am a decent, law-abiding citizen who shouldn’t have to be in the same room as dirt like you!”
Calling Jack dirt had probably been the wrong thing to say. The hard expression returned to his face. He climbed up onto the bed and took her by the wrist. Their combined weights sank the mattress in the center, making it even more difficult for Kristen to maintain her balance. She hadn’t the strength to pull away from him when he hauled her up against his chest.
His free hand rose. She flinched back out of instinct, sure he was about to strike her, but he only took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed leisurely at her bottom lip. “You’re too mouthy by far,” he murmured. His eyelids drooped and, surprisingly, he kissed her again.
Kristen groaned. She shouldn’t be letting him treat her this way. She should exercise her rights from the very beginning, let him know exactly how he’d be allowed to approach her. But his touch had more of an effect on her than she would ever have believed. His mouth on hers tore down her resistance and rebuilt the passion of moments before.
Without warning, he pulled away from her. A scowl slipped over his face.
Kristen stared up at him, mesmerized. “What is it?” she whispered.
“You’re a clincher, aren’t you?”
“Clincher?”
“A woman who comes with a catch.”
Kristen smiled up at him. “And if I am?”
Jack released his hold on her. He moved back, the motion threatening Kristen’s balance. “I’m not the kind of man who allows himself to get lost in a woman, Miss Ford. Clinchers have never been my style.” He jumped off the bed and moved to the door. “I’m stayin’ across the hall if you need anything.”
“Anything?” Her body screamed for him to return and finish what he’d started.
“We can go down to dinner as soon as you’re ready,” he said over his shoulder. Then he left the room and shut the door behind him.
Kristen dropped herself down onto the bed with a bounce. She sat there in disbelief. The man could have had her at the drop of a hankie, but he’d chosen to walk away.
After a moment of deliberation, a broad smile crept up on her face. Rough ‘n’ tough Jack Parrish was afraid of her, afraid that one night with her would tuck him firmly in her pocket for eternity. A clincher? After a kiss like that, she figured he might be right. The question was, dare she pursue the matter further?
They sat at the same table for dinner as they had for lunch. Jack ordered them both bowls of steaming beef stew with crusty rolls and sweet cream butter on the side. Their mood was subdued, to say the least. As usual, Jack spoke little, but for once, Kristen couldn’t find the courage to fill the gaps in their stilted conversation.
The restaurant was practically empty, and the few patrons present went out of their way not to gawk at the gunslinger and his sister. The waitress stayed by their table only long enough to take their orders and deliver their food. It proved to be an uncomfortable and uneventful meal, until Deputy Lewis strolled in.
Kristen noticed him first, and her eyes widened. She reached across the table and grabbed Jack’s hand before he could take another bite. His eyes flicked up at her, and she gestured emphatically toward the door with her head.
He looked over his shoulder at the man and then turned back to her. Looking annoyed, he went back to his meal.
“It’s a member of that posse,” Kristen whispered. “He’ll recognize me for sure.”
Jack snatched another inconspicuous glance at the man as Lewis slid into a chair at the table across from them. Kristen shielded her face behind her hand and looked at the wall. “What are we going to do?”
“How much does he know about you?”
Kristen thought a moment. “Not a lot.”
“That’s even more than he knows about me,” Jack replied. “We got separated during the robbery. You were taken off the train.”
Kristen grimaced. “But I stole the man’s horse.”
Jack’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Don’t they hang people for stealing horses?” Kristen’s voice squeaked at the question.
“Not if you can think up a good enough reason for doin’ it.”
“I was chasing after you — ”
“Well, well. Miss Ford.” Deputy Lewis strode over to their table and grinned in his usual lewd manner. “What a pleasure it is to see you here tonight. Me and the sheriff’s been lookin’ all over for ya. We was afraid you’d gone and got yourself killed by that bloodthirsty gang.”
Gathering her courage, Kristen turned to the deputy and gave him a contemptuous glare. “Your concern is touching, Deputy, but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine here with my brother. Have you met my brother? Jack Ford, meet Deputy Lewis.”
The blood drained from Lewis’s face. He must have already heard of Jack’s blossoming reputation. “Ain’t you the fella what winged Rand McDuff’s boy this afternoon?” he asked Jack with narrowed eyes.
“The boy needed a lesson,” was Jack’s response.
Their whole plan was in jeopardy of being blown out of the water, and Jack just sat there chowing down his stew. She glanced back at Lewis’s rigid face.
“The lad’s lucky he come up against a man of your compassion, Ford. He could be peaceably dead right now instead of harborin’ a shattered arm he’ll probably never use again.”
Kristen sank down in her chair at Lewis’s sarcastic tone. It didn’t pay to be flippant with Jack, who now set his spoon down in his bowl, wiped his face with his napkin, and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe the boy shoulda stayed in his own backyard.”
“You look awful familiar to me, mister,” Lewis pressed on. “Have we met before?”
“If we’d met before, you wouldn’t have forgotten.”
The frigid tone of Jack’s voice was enough to send shivers up anyone’s spine. Deputy Lewis shuffled uncomfortably in his boots. “You best keep an eye on your sister, Ford. She’s trouble, sure as day.”
“You let me worry about my sister, Deputy. I wouldn’t want to hear of you botherin’ her . . . .” Jack let his threat hang in the tense air.
“There’s a little matter of her thievin’ my horse.”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Jack said calmly.
“I got me five other witnesses. The posse was ridin’ along right behind me — ”
“Are you sayin’ my little sister stole your horse right out from under you with a posse lookin’ on? Not only does that sound farfetched, Deputy, it sounds downright pathetic.” Jack smirked at the hesitation on Lewis’s face. “You’re interruptin’ our meal.”
Lewis pointed a shaky finger and moved away from the table. “I’ll have my eye on you, Ford.”
“I’ll be all a-tingle.”
Kristen folded her hands in her lap and grinned stupidly as Jack went back to his dinner. Here she’d been all shaky at the knees, and he’d calmly taken control of the situation.
He ate the last of his roll and drank down the last of his water, oblivious to her admiration. “Are you finished?” he finally asked her.
“Finished eating, or finished staring?”
Jack looked up at her through his lashes. “Both.”
“I’m just impressed. I never realized you could be so masterful.” Kristen grinned.
“I handled it.”
“Or so embarrassed at a meager compliment,” she added.
He gave her an impatient stare. Jack Parrish had more sides to him than Kristen ever would have imagined.
If he could just close his eyes long enough to fall asleep, Jack figured Kristen wouldn’t haunt him anymore.
He kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed, shutting his eyes tight. His mind filled with images of releasing his brother from jail. Damn Hank and his impetuousness. If the fool had only waited for him to return that day, none of this would be happening. Jack was half-tempted to forget the promise he’d made to their mother and leave his brother to hang. He was sick to death of pulling Hank out of one scrape after the next, risking his neck so his little brother could make a clean getaway.
And now there was Kristen — plucky, impulsive Kristen. He wasn’t sure where she’d come from, but he knew exactly where he wanted to take her: on a long, bumpy ride to heaven. He wanted to wrap her hair around his hands and pull her to his mouth, to kiss her till she moaned and fell back on the bed with him.
With a furious growl, Jack lurched upright. He was never going to get any sleep if he didn’t get her out of his head. Setting his feet on the cold floor, he fought the image of her lying tucked into her bed, her golden hair spread against the white of the pillow. He wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t go to her. One tumble and he’d be lost. Their kiss had proven that. One full taste of her and he’d be tied to her till the day he died. The idea of such bondage sent a chill through him and hardened his resolve. No one person would ever own him, not as long as he had any say in the matter.
The soft knock at his door scared the living hell out of him. He knew who it would be, and he knew the strength of his will was about to be tested.
“Jack?” he heard her whisper through the wood. “Jack, are you awake?”
Gritting his teeth, he stood up and yanked open the door. She waited there, fully dressed, staring up at him with her liquid gray eyes. “I need your help.”
Stepping aside, he let her enter and then closed the door against the draft filtering down the hallway. She moved to the center of his room and spun around to face him, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “I can’t get my clothes off,” she said in a rush.
Oh, Jack thought, was that all? She couldn’t get her clothes off? He closed his eyes against the sight of her.
“It’s these darn buttons,” Kristen continued. She turned her back to him, her hands straining around her sides. “I can’t reach them. How is a person supposed to get out of all this?”
From the irritated tone of her voice, Jack figured she’d been fighting with her clothes for some time, maybe even standing in the hall outside his door trying to muster the courage to knock. She lifted her shoulder-length hair out of his way and he took a step toward her. Doing his best to think of her as the sister she was pretending to be, he lifted his hands and unlatched the first button against her neck. Two more tiny buttons and his mouth went dry. Another tiny button and he couldn’t help but lightly caress the creamy pale skin he’d revealed along her collar.
His hands soon moved of their own free will, popping out buttons, smoothing back the blue material. She didn’t twitch or say a word as he touched her, but he could hear her breath quicken with each faint movement of his hands.
When the last button had been undone, her thin white underthings lying open to his eyes, he ran his hands smoothly up her back and skimmed his mouth along her bare neck. She released her hair, and it fell like a golden curtain around his face.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She moved away from him and glided toward the door. “If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”
She was gone before Jack could think to say anything. He dropped to the edge of the bed and sat there, wondering what had happened. She’d breezed into his room, asked him to undress her, given him a good eyeful, and then left him with the feel of her cool, silken skin still on his hands.
Jack dropped his face into his palms and rubbed his forehead. “Damnation,” he muttered. Kristen was playing games with him.
And a woman playing games was a dangerous thing indeed.
Kristen sank into the hot water and let it soak away days’ worth of sweat and dust. She washed herself with a bar of flowery-smelling soap and scrubbed her hair with the same, and when she finally stepped out of the round wooden tub, she felt like a new woman.
Taking care to dress herself in something with buttons up the front — although enlisting Jack’s help the night before had been an idea born of pure genius — she dismissed the corset and elected to wear the pantalets and one petticoat. She chose to pass on the wire bustle.
Dressed comfortably in a long skirt of pale gray and a ruffled white shirt, she was ready to approach Jack. She slipped on her boots as she proceeded across the hall to his door. She smoothed her hair, trying to calm her nerves, and knocked. After receiving no answer, she knocked again, a little harder this time. Apparently he wasn’t in his room.
She hurried down the stairs and out onto the street, wondering where Jack could have gone. What if she’d scared him off last night? What if he’d packed up his things and ridden out of town? Would he have gladly thrown his brother to the wolves only to get away from the crazy lady with the buttons down her back? God, she hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far.
Kristen frantically looked up both sides of the street but didn’t see Jack’s distinctive figure or gray western hat. She stepped off the boardwalk and hurried in the direction of the saloon across the street.
She stopped under the huge sign at the entrance to the Painted Lady and hesitated. Then she took hold of the twin doors to prevent them from swinging and announcing her presence. Jack had warned her the night before that women weren’t welcome in saloons, something she couldn’t help but resent, but chances were that if Jack were still in town, he would be in there somewhere.
Unable to quell her curiosity, she peered over the top of the rough wood and into the bar beyond. The first thing to catch her eye was a gigantic painting of a bare-breasted woman raising a glass of foaming beer over a naked infant. Squinting to get a better look, Kristen bit her lip against a heated protest and continued her assessment of the place.
Even at such an early hour, the bar was filled with men, some apparently there to drink, some to gamble at the card tables or maybe the pool table in the far corner. The room was dark and smoky, teeming with the odors of sweat, liquor, and cigarettes. Paintings hung on every wall, all of them impressions of barely dressed or completely nude women, all life-size, and all insulting to any right-minded female.
She pushed back the doors and stepped inside. Every eye followed her as she strode toward the long bar, brought down her fist, and ordered a mug of beer. It felt good, this bucking of the system. She was doing the unheard of, entering where no woman had gone before, seeing things no woman had seen before. She felt like a pioneer . . . until she caught sight of the woman sitting on Jack Parrish’s lap in the corner.
In a stroke of unfettered jealousy, Kristen realized she was not the first of her sex but rather the first of her breed to enter this all-male domain. Clearly certain types of women frequented saloons on a regular basis.
She glued on her deadliest smile and waved to Jack from across the room. “Hello, Jack,” she called to him. “What’s that you’ve got stuck to your leg?”
“I’m not servin’ ya,” the bartender said to her. “You get on outta here.”
Kristen turned back and gave the bartender a firm nod. “Darn it, but you’re right. You men should reserve the right to get drunk and fall asleep in your own vomit. Women shouldn’t be allowed to participate in such a timeworn tradition.”
She pushed away from the bar and approached Jack, staring down every male eye that dared meet hers. “Except,” she continued, “except women like the bounteous — what was your name, dear?”
The blond woman on Jack’s lap smiled through batting eyelashes, thick pink blush, and a startling number of fake beauty marks. “Bonnie.”
“Ah, yes.” Kristen smiled sardonically. “The bounteous Bonnie. A woman to rouse the fires in a man’s soul. A woman to satisfy every man’s desire. A woman to shut her mouth, do her job, or not get paid.”
Bonnie didn’t look happy with that accounting, but for that matter, neither did Jack. Angry murmurs began filtering through the room, threats backed more by bravado than intent. Kristen stood in front of Jack and the floozy entwined about his neck. His hard stare told her he wasn’t exactly glad to see her.
“Barkeep?” The sudden sound of Jack’s deep, steady voice set Kristen’s nerves on edge. “My sister asked for a beer.”
Nobody thought to argue with the vicious gunslinger. They all went back to nursing their drinks and cheating each other at cards.
Kristen steeled herself and sat down across from Jack at the table. “I go to your room this morning and you aren’t there,” she managed to say. Then she realized she sounded like a spurned lover.
“I had things to do.” Jack took a swig of whatever filled his shot glass.
The lovely Bonnie twirled her fingers idly in Jack’s thick hair. Kristen accepted the beer the stiff-faced barkeep brought her and took a huge, burning swallow. She grimaced as warm beer slid down her throat. “Don’t you people know how to make ice?”
“Was there some reason you followed me here, Kristen?” Jack asked softly, his mood still unreadable.
Kristen did her best to appear uninterested. “Actually, finding you here was pure luck, if you could call it that.” The prostitute was still running her hands through Jack’s hair, as if she hoped to ignite it by friction. “Bonnie, why don’t you cut yourself off a chunk and go play with it in the corner?”
Jack lifted the woman from his lap. “Go to your room. I’ll be up as soon as I finish my drink.”
Kristen blanched at the thought of Jack’s hands on that overblossomed woman. “Going slumming, Jack. Or is this normal behavior for you?”
Jack flashed her a heated look. “You got a problem, sister dear?”
Finally, a hint of his temper. Kristen was used to Jack’s anger. She could deal with it much more easily than his complacency.
“‘Cause if you do,” he continued, “I don’t give two halves of a damn. Your approval isn’t a consideration of mine when I’m goin’ about the course of my day.”
“You can catch all kinds of diseases sleeping with a woman like that,” Kristen grumbled.
Jack didn’t respond. Kristen could tell that she’d lost the decided edge she had somehow gained the day before. She had pushed him too far. Chasing him away certainly hadn’t been her aim. She had only wanted to tempt him a little, tempt him into giving her another one of those kisses, maybe more. Her plan had obviously backfired. Instead of warming him up to her, she had frozen him colder than he’d been before and chased him into the arms of a professional. Games had never been Kristen’s style, and now she was jeopardizing her chances of getting home because of a foolish desire she had for some two-bit cowboy.
“Sometimes you act like a sulking little boy,” she said, frustrated with herself.
Jack set down his empty glass. “Is that right.”
“You’re in here boozing it up just because you didn’t get any last night. How typical of a man.”
Jack narrowed his amber eyes. “I never understand half the damn things you say.”
“We can’t talk here,” Kristen whispered. “Come outside with me.”
Jack reluctantly stood and followed her out through the swinging doors and around to a quiet alley alongside the saloon.
Kristen took a deep breath. “I know you’re in there drinking and whoring to make up for not sleeping with me last night.”
Jack’s eyes crinkled, but not in anger this time. Up from his chest flew a solid bark of deep laughter. “You’re outta your mind.”
Kristen stiffened. “I’m right, and you know it.”
“Miss Ford, you’re readin’ more into that kiss than you should have. I’ve kissed half a dozen women and said the same sugary words I said to you last night, but because of all you’re doin’ to help me and my brother out, I decided to spare you from what always turns out to be a painful partin’.”
Kristen felt the punch of those words in her stomach. But despite the lump in her throat, she persisted in getting some answers. “What do you mean, parting?”
“You see there?” Jack raised his brows. “You’re already attached. You expect that when this is all through, Hank, Bobby, and I’ll take you along with us.”
Kristen frowned. Actually, with a couple of exceptions named Hank and Bobby, that’s precisely what she’d been thinking. Unless she got zapped out of here, she wasn’t about to be left sitting here with her hand in the cookie jar.
Jack shook his head. “It ain’t gonna happen. If we’d been together last night, our eventual partin’ would be that much more painful for you.”
“Oh, spare me your sermon on integrity, Jack. You are not riding into the sunset and leaving me here to take the fall!” After a calming deep breath, Kristen continued, “I will not be left here, Jack Parrish,” she whispered heatedly.
“You are not coming with me.”
“You don’t understand. You see, if I don’t stick with you, I kiss life as I know it good-bye.”
Jack grinned coolly. “That’s awful sweet. You’re still not goin’.”
Kristen threw up her arms. “Fine! Go to your damn Bonnie. But this discussion isn’t over. Not by a long shot!”
Jack watched Kristen spin on her heel and turn the corner, heading toward the hotel. That oughta teach the woman not to play games with him, he thought. Considering what she’d done to him last night, she’d gotten off easy . . . . Then why did he feel like he’d just kicked a stray dog?
Bonnie lay all soft and naked in her bed for him. All he had to do was go back into the bar and climb the stairs to her room. Upon further thought, he decided a bath and a shave would serve him better, and he headed for the barber.
Kristen stormed into her room, not sure if she was more angry or more hurt by Jack’s statements. She’d been trounced by men before, and had even done some trouncing herself, but the other rejections hadn’t bothered her half as much as Jack’s.
How could he be so cold to her after warming her so thoroughly with his touch the night before? How could she have been stupid enough to believe one pleasurable kiss could thaw his iceberg of a heart? She had been right in her earlier assessment: Jack had no viable conscience. He may as well have slipped a knife from his pocket and cut out her heart.
“Men!” she shouted aloud. “They’re all pigs!” A tight lump of emotion caught in her voice. “I want out of here. I want out! I never wanted to do this in the first place!” she cried, wildly hoping that someone up there would hear her.
Putting her face into her hands, she let loose the tears she had held back for so long. Then she straightened up and regained control. She wasn’t going to cry over him. He had never really liked her anyway. She had been fooling herself like a schoolgirl with a crush on the quarterback.
She sniffed. She wanted to go straight down to the stable, get her a horse, and ride away from this sorry excuse for a town. But then she remembered she had absolutely no place to go, and no one to turn to. Her chin quivered. “Are you happy!” she cried at whoever was in charge up there. “For the sake of some lawless bastard, you’ve ruined my life, my whole damn life!”
Yanking open the buttons on her shirt, she tore the garment from her arms. “I am not dressing like Mary Poppins anymore, not for another second!” Pulling the hooks free, she threw the corset across the room. “I am putting on my tiny, cling-free underwear. No more pantalets” — she sneered at the word — “and no more flapping petticoats!”
She dressed in her jeans, her bra, and the light cotton shirt she’d had on a moment ago. “This is called rebelling,” she said. “You can expect my full disagreement until you send me home. I’m not helping your pal Jack. He doesn’t deserve my time, or yours, for that matter. Don’t you have better things to do than snatch unsuspecting women from their homes and force them to aid heartless criminals who wouldn’t have the integrity to save a dying puppy?”
Her fit of self-pity subsiding, she glanced at her previous attire strewn about the floor. She stood in the silence of her room, wondering if she’d just condemned her soul to damnation.
She walked to the dresser mirror and braided her hair away from her face. She stood there and stared at her reflection for a moment, noting that she looked the same as she had last week, which was now over one hundred years in the future.
She watched her eyes fill with tears. After all the times she’d felt alone — first when her mother had died, and then when she’d lost her father — now she was, really and truly, alone. A sob broke from her chest.
There was a knock on her door, and Kristen jumped in surprise. Dabbing at the tears on her face, she called, “Coming!” and pinched at her pale cheeks. Assuming it was Jack, she checked her face in the mirror one more time and then opened the door. A disappointed scowl gathered on her face. A blond boy of no more than twelve stood shaking nervously in front of her.
“Y-your brother . . . He . . . he — ”
“He what? For God’s sake, kid, spit it out.” Kristen had no room for patience, especially where Jack Parrish was concerned.
“He’s dead.”
Kristen felt the world fall out from under her feet. “He’s what?” she whispered.
“Come on,” the boy said as he rushed down the red carpeted stairs.
Numb, Kristen hurried after the boy, not willing to believe what he’d said was true. Jack couldn’t be dead. She’d just seen him not a half hour ago, glaring coldly at her in an alleyway.
She rushed past people on the boardwalk, keeping the boy in her sight as he wove through the crowds and turned down a side street. After a few more turns, Kristen began to wonder just how far Jack had wandered before getting himself killed.
“Hey, kid!” she called. Not hearing her, the boy rounded another corner. She followed him into a deserted alleyway and came up short. The boy had vanished. The dangerous vibration of silence enveloped her, raising goose bumps on her arms.
Hugging herself, she inched forward carefully. “Kid, where are you?”
A sharp crack from behind her slammed her heart against her ribs, and Kristen whirled around to confront the sound. A large, black-bearded man stood at the alley’s entrance. Grinning, he slowly recoiled the whip he’d just cracked for the purpose of gaining her attention.
“Afternoon, Miss Ford.” He spat tobacco juice in her direction. “Ain’t your brother ever warned you it’s dangerous to wander down dark alleys by yourself?”
Fear rose up in Kristen, true and strong. Without her gun she felt unprotected, naked against the world. “I followed a boy in here. Have you seen him?” Though trying her best, she couldn’t keep her voice from quavering.
The man laughed softly and began to walk toward her. “That boy? He earned his keep. He’s long gone by now.”
She’d been set up. Fortunately Jack probably wasn’t dead. But if she didn’t think of something fast, her own future didn’t look too promising. Trying to call upon her professional courage, she narrowed her eyes. “What do you want from me?”
The man advanced further. “Pends on what you’re willin’ to give, sweetie.”
Kristen tried to work her way around him, but he blocked her path. “I’m not willing to give a damn thing,” she returned.
“Good.” The man grinned. He was close enough now that Kristen could see his blackened teeth, could smell his rank odor. “That means I get to take all you got.”
He reached for her. She avoided his grasp. He laughed at her futile effort to escape. “You ain’t gonna get away, sweetie.” He snapped his whip against the ground by her feet, distracting her long enough to get a good grip on her arm with his free hand.
His strength amazed Kristen. She struggled against the wall of his immense chest, pounding against his clothes filled with sweat and dirt. She raised her knee but was spun to face forward before she could make any kind of contact. He wrapped his whip around her neck, its rough coils digging into her throat, threatening to cut off her air. With a brutal shove, he pushed her toward the far wall of the alleyway.
“You just hold real still, sweetie, and this’ll all be over with fast. We’ll just bend you over this here barrel.”
Kristen was shoved over the top of a waist-high wooden barrel, the hard edge of it jutting into her stomach. He had a grip on her hair while still holding tight to the whip, cutting off just enough air to quiet her struggles. “I wanted a tasta you the minute you sauntered inta that bar.”
She heard the sound of him fumbling with his pants, and squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and humiliation.
“I said to myself, I said, Howard, that there’s a woman what’ll satisfy you like no other has.”
Kristen kicked back futilely and clawed at the whip around her neck. Then the man grew strangely quiet behind her. She opened her eyes a crack. “Now, that there is a grave inconvenience,” she heard him grumble. “A woman in pants is a sin against man.”
A spark of hope filled Kristen’s heart. Would this inconvenience be enough to make the bastard leave her alone?
His next words answered her question and sent an icy chill of dread up her back. “Suppose I’ll just have ta cut ‘em off ya.”
He yanked her shirttails out of her pants. She felt the cold of steel press against the curve in her spine and wondered how shredded her skin would be by the time he was finished removing her jeans.
“This shouldn’t take too long,” he whispered against her neck, about to start cutting.
“I don’t mean to interrupt.” The familiar deep voice brought more relief to Kristen than she’d ever felt in her life. It was Jack, come to save her. “There’s something I needed to ask my sister,” he said.
The man behind her had stopped his intended attack on her clothes. “You take one more step and I’ll snap her neck, friend.”
Kristen gagged as the whip squeezed tighter against her windpipe, the barrel under her digging deeper into her stomach.
“One question,” she heard Jack insist. “Then I’ll be about my business.”
Kristen sensed the man’s hesitation. “Hurry it up then,” he finally demanded.
“Miss Ford? I don’t suppose this man gained your consent before trussin’ you up like a prebranded cow?”
Somehow Kristen found the strength to shake her head.
She heard the sound of Jack’s cold laughter. “Then I suppose I’ll be about my business.”
An explosion rent the air. Black gunsmoke billowed through the alleyway. Kristen heard the man behind her gasp. He fell to the ground, dragging her down onto his rounded belly. She clawed at the whip, struggling furiously to free herself from strangulation.
And then Jack was there. He loosened the whip’s coils and lifted her up against his solid frame. Kristen couldn’t speak, out of a combination of fear, gratitude, and pain in her throat. He held her against him as he walked down the alleyway, down the boardwalks, and back to their hotel. If people were curious at her disheveled state, they didn’t bother to inquire. Jack’s stride was slow but determined, his expression openly murderous, and there wasn’t a soul alive who would have dared approach him at that moment.
He eased her up the carpeted staircase and into her room, where he sat her on the edge of the bed and moved to get a wet cloth.
In silence, he knelt before her and placed the cloth against her neck. She sucked in a breath. “That hurts.” Her voice sounded strained and raw.
“All the more reason to clean it,” he replied softly.
When he removed the cloth to refold it, Kristen saw the blood marring the white material. “I’m bleeding?” she said, her voice only a croak.
“Whips can be very hard on delicate skin, Miss Ford.”
“Am I all right?” she rasped.
Jack paused in his doctoring. He looked up at her, and for the first time she saw compassion in his expression and warmth radiating from his eyes. “Except for a voice resembling a frog’s after a shot of whiskey, I’d say you’re okay. May I ask what you were doin’ in a deserted alleyway on the other side of town?”
“A boy — ” Kristen started to explain.
“Scrawny kid? Blond heada hair?”
Kristen nodded. “He told me” — she felt tears brim her eyes — “he told me you were dead.”
Jack went back to tending her scraped neck, apparently not able to deal with her fit of tears. “He was paid to lure you there, the same way I had to pay him to tell me where you were. I bet that kid makes a damn good livin’.”
She took hold of the cloth in his hands. “I can do this. You don’t have to stay.”
Their eyes met again, and the ensuing pause seemed like a lifetime.
“You know,” Jack finally said. “If that gets infected, you’ll lose your head.”
It took a moment, but when Kristen realized he’d actually meant that to be a joke, she laughed, though it sounded more like a coughing sound. He gave her a friendly smile, the best she’d seen to date, and took the cloth back to the washbasin.
“I don’t suppose they make a bandage big enough to cover this?” she said.
He surprised her by laying her back against the pillows and bringing a blanket up to cover her. “Nope. But you’ll feel better after you get some rest.”
“Rest is the cure? But I’m practically mute,” she croaked. He smiled again, and she was amazed that it didn’t crack his face right down the center. “And I bet that makes you all a-tingle,” she added with a slight laugh.
He unbuckled his gunbelt. She stared at him in surprise and trepidation as he stretched himself out next to her on the bed. “What are you doing?”
He wrapped his big arms around her waist and pulled her up against him. “Keepin’ an eye on you.”
Kristen stiffened. “You’ve got more than your eye on me, Jack.”
“I don’t want you sneakin’ off and gettin’ into trouble when I’m not lookin’,” he answered, and snuggled into her side. “I’ve decided we’ll share this room.”
Kristen turned her head and looked at him. He lay next to her, his eyes shut, his chin resting on her shoulder. “You’ve decided. Maybe I don’t want to share a room with you.”
His answer was a knowing smile that warmed her in more ways than one. “Is that right.”
A loud snore brought Kristen into full consciousness. She cracked open one eye and came face-to-face with Jack, his breath fanning her face, his nose brushing against her own.
Afraid that moving might wake him, she lay still, studying his long black lashes, the way his eyelids flickered every so often to follow the path of a dream, the tiny lines around his eyes. She had never figured out his age, but his hair had yet to show signs of gray. Up close, she guessed that he was about thirty or thirty-five, young enough to still keep up, but old enough to know his stuff.
This thought sent a surge of heat through her. She was a glutton for punishment, that was the only way to explain the inane feelings she had for this harsh, insensitive criminal whose mood swings made him seem almost psychotic. One minute he was somber to the point of depression; the next, he was furious; the next, cold and sarcastic. The only mood he seemed to lack in abundance was happiness.
She had yet to see him really smile. Oh, there had been hints, flashes of his teeth or twitches of his lips, but never a full-blown, your-dentist-would-be-proud, genuine, gleaming smile. She had the urge to lift the corners of his mouth into some semblance of pleasure. What would he look like happy? What would engaging laughter do to that already handsome face?
“How’s your throat?”
Her eyes flew to his, her breath catching in her chest. “Much better.”
A familiar frown creased his brow. “Sounds to me like it’s still botherin’ you.”
How could Kristen tell him that the huskiness in her voice had nothing to do with her injury? She cleared her throat and rolled out of his arms. “It’s much better. Really.” She sat up on the other side of the bed. “Sounds like it’s raining outside,” she added quickly. A roll of thunder followed her words.
Jack rose up from the bed and sat on the opposite edge. “Hungry?”
Kristen averted her eyes from his broad back. “Not especially.”
“You sure get by on little.”
“I’m a cheap date.”
She listened as the rain hit the roof overhead and smacked against the windowpane. A burst of lightning lit the dim room, throwing eerie shadows upon the walls. “Sort of sets a disquieting afternoon, don’t you think?” she said.
Jack stood and walked to the window. “Sort of.”
She watched him lift back the curtain and peer through the water-streaked window. Another burst of thunder rolled and ended in a loud clap that sent a visible jolt through him. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, giving away his apprehension.
Kristen turned full toward him, observing the erratic movement of his eyes, the tight grip he had on the curtain. The next clap of thunder convinced her she wasn’t far from the mark. He actually jumped and swallowed hard enough to dislodge his Adam’s apple.
She rose up from the bed and circled around to him. “You know,” she said softly, “if you count the seconds between lightning and thunder, you can tell where the center of the storm is.”
Jack glanced toward her distractedly and then returned his attention to the window. He looked like a timid little boy and the whole scene tugged at Kristen’s heart.
“Has it always bothered you?” she asked.
“What?”
“I don’t suppose you want to talk about it.”
Jack’s hand fell from the curtain. He turned to face her. “No, Miss Ford, I don’t.”
She watched him cross the room and open the door. “I was only trying to help. Where are you going?”
“To get my things. I told you, we’re sharin’ this room.”
“I don’t recall you asking my permission to share.”
“I don’t recall needin’ it.”
Kristen opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that, but he shut the door on her. She glared at the ceiling and waited for him to return.
The sights and sounds of the storm once again intruded, dancing shadows across the walls and rumbling through the room. Jack pushed his way back through the door and dumped his saddlebags on the floor.
“You don’t expect me to just sit back and let you snuggle up to me in that bed, do you?” she demanded. “You made it very clear to me only this morning what an indiscreet user of women you are, and that you had no intention of entering into a lasting relationship of any kind.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You’ll what?”
“I said, I’ll sleep on the floor. No need to get your petticoats in a bunch, Miss Ford.”
Damned if that wasn’t downright discouraging. She hadn’t wanted him to give in so easily. She’d wanted him to insist on sharing her bed, or at least to plead and beg to do so, so she could rest assured that he indeed wanted her. “Good,” she said with a smug lift of her chin. “The last thing I need is your hulking body rolling over and crushing me in my sleep.”
“Judging by the measly amount of food you put away, Miss Ford, that wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do.”
“Stop calling me Miss Ford.”
“Forgive me. What is it you’d like me to call you?”
“Kristen would be nice. I don’t go around calling you Mr. Parrish. I’d appreciate a return of the favor, if you don’t mind.”
Jack was back at the window, staring out at the pouring rain. “What’s got you all hiked up?”
Kristen smiled ruefully. “Oh, the usual, your lousy attitude. Standing there gaping out the window isn’t going to make the storm go away any faster.”
Jack moved from the window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the wall. “I saw my brother this morning.”
Kristen’s eyes rounded. “Did he see you?”
“It was only a brief glimpse. They were walking him in the yard behind the jail.”
“And Bobby?”
“They never walk more than one prisoner at a time.”
“Was this before or after you spent the morning with Bonnie?” As soon as she said it, she wanted to kick herself for sounding so resentful.
A half smile tipped the corners of Jack’s mouth. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not. I just resent the fact that you treat other women with affection and treat me like something stuck to the bottom of your damned boot.”
Jack was silent. She had the niggling suspicion he was fighting a laugh. “That bothers you?”
“That drives me stark raving mad!” Then she said more softly, “How did I ever earn your unwavering disdain?”
A clap of thunder boomed through the room, and Jack turned white as a sheet. Despite her exasperation with him and his aversion to assistance of any kind, Kristen uncrossed his tightly clenched arms. “The thunder bothers you, it’s obvious.”
Jack shook his head in denial.
Even through his closed expression, Kristen could sense his vulnerability. “We all have fears, even big strong bad guys like yourself. It’s nothing to be, ashamed of.”
She took him by the hand and pulled him down to the floor with her. “Want to know what I’m afraid of?” Jack looked at her warily. “The dark. At night I sleep with my Magic Covers pulled over my head.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid to ask,” he grumbled.
Kristen stood. She retrieved two pillows and the blanket from the bed. “Magic Covers? That’s the name my dad gave my blanket when I was little.”
She handed Jack a pillow and smiled when he imitated her by clutching it in front of him. She spread the blanket between the two of them to keep their legs warm.
“Like most little girls, I thought my daddy was the biggest, bravest, strongest man in the whole world. When he was around, nothing could hurt me, not the monster of the closet, not the creature under the bed, not even knife-wielding, gun-toting bogeymen.”
Lightning flashed. Jack tensed visibly.
“Dad was Prince Charming and Rambo all rolled up into one. Unfortunately he was a policeman. And policemen have to take turns working the graveyard shift. That meant he was gone at the worst possible time for me, the middle of the night.”
Jack was now listening carefully.
“Well, you can imagine my dilemma. There I was, six years old, fighting to stay awake because if the monster in the closet was gonna come out, it was gonna be on the night my dad wasn’t there to scare him off.” She laughed at the memory.
“After a week of the graveyard shift, my parents finally started to catch on. I think the dark circles under my eyes and the frequent afternoon naps sort of gave it away. A good long talk with my dad brought the problem to the surface. I could tell he felt responsible for the whole thing, felt guilty that he couldn’t be home at night to chase away my demons.”
Memories Kristen hadn’t recalled in a long time dampened her eyes. “He came home that next morning with a present for me. It was a full-sized blanket with pictures of his face all over it. It was the tackiest thing.” She laughed. “But it worked, and we called it the Magic Blanket. Night after night of graveyard shifts followed, but I slept like a baby bundled up in that blanket.”
Jack toyed with the eyelet cover on the pillow. “He sounds like a good man, your father.”
“He was.” Kristen’s chin quivered. The wound of her father’s unexpected death was still too fresh. She sniffled. “Anyway, my whole point in this tedious tale is that everybody’s scared of something, Jack. To this day, I’m still a little afraid of the dark. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just need to find your own personal Magic Blanket.”
“Your father’s dead?”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper.
Jack’s face darkened. “Mine, too.”
“Did he die young?”
“Not young enough.”
Kristen hesitated and then stumbled forward. “You and your dad didn’t get along?”
“Get along?” Jack snorted in growing darkness. “Unlike you and your fairy-tale life, Kristen, some of us were stuck with sires a rabid dog didn’t deserve.”
Kristen’s mood sank at the bitterness in Jack’s voice. Had his life really been as bad as all that? “I’m sorry.”
“You’re what?”
“I said I was sorry.” Kristen spoke louder this time, assuming he hadn’t heard her correctly.
Jack grabbed her by the arm. “I don’t need your pity. The regrets of a woman are about as useful and as soothing as a bellyful of sand! Save your sympathy for somebody who needs it.”
“Jack, let go of my arm,” Kristen whispered, stricken by his biting words.
“I’ll let go of your goddamned arm when I goddamned well feel like it! That’s the difference between you and me, Kristen, you’re a giver . . . I’m a taker.”
Without warning, his mouth smothered hers. Kristen felt the world tilt beneath her. Conflicting emotions spun through her head. Though fighting was her first impulse, the part of her that had long ago succumbed to Jack wanted nothing but to give in, to bask in the touch of his hands, to revel in the pressure of his mouth.
His rough, aggressive kiss held her captive, a kiss full of passion and need. Kristen might have reasoned that such passion could only result in disaster, but her feelings for Jack Parrish had nothing to do with reason.
He kissed her with punishing sweetness, his lips hard and searching, and passion rose up in her like a burning fire. She clutched the back of his neck, meeting his need with an equal and undeniable yearning of her own.
When he finally moved away from her, she ached to pull him back. He took her firmly around the waist and pulled her up tight against him. “Tell me to leave,” he whispered, his breath searing against her cheek. “Tell me I’m a bastard who doesn’t deserve to kiss your shoes.”
Kristen shook her head. She refused to say what neither one of them truly wished. Giving her a last forewarning stare, Jack released the buttons on the front of her shirt. Unwavering from his purpose, he slid the thin garment off her shoulders and down her arms. His burning gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders to her bra, pausing only briefly to examine it before easing the lacy cups aside.
Her name tumbled from his lips like a swift caress, and his eyes lifted to hers. He lifted a hand to encompass one of her breasts, his palm moving magically over her skin. She’d never dreamed that hands could be so insistent and yet so gentle. He outlined each nipple with his fingers and then bent to touch them with his lips.
A delicious shudder moved through Kristen’s body, a longing ache building between her thighs. Jack stripped the rest of her clothes quickly and swept her, weightless, into his arms. In two strides he carried her to the bed.
She moaned softly as he laid her down, and trembled at the powerful hold he seemed to have over her senses. She heard the rustle of his clothing as it hit the floor, and then he was above her, pressing every naked inch of his body to hers. He reclaimed her mouth with a savage intensity, his tongue nudging against her lips, sending shivers of desire through her. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, skimming her palms over the textures of his body, her fingers delving into his muscular curves.
“You’ve driven me mad,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. He kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat and his mouth wandered up the tingling cord of her neck.
He rubbed the soft strands of her hair against his face and kissed her again. Then he lifted his mouth until it hovered just above hers. “We’re both crazy.”
Kristen slipped her hands around his neck, drawing him to her for another taste. It was a kiss that scorched her heart, leaving her smoldering to the core.
His mouth trailed a path down her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She touched his hair with trembling hands and guided him to her most sensitive places. She’d never felt such an exhilarating response to any man. Jack played upon her with a reckless sort of passion, driving her to an incredible hunger.
Jack was on top of her. She could feel his heat course down the entire length of her body. Her breasts tingled against the hair on his chest and she could feel his heart thundering against her own. He pressed his flat belly against hers and she felt the first tremors of ecstasy. Every curve of her body molded to his. It was as if they’d been made for each other since the beginning of time.
With slow inevitability, his hands moved down her back, over her hips and thighs. He skimmed his palm down her stomach, his fingers parting her soft curling hair to stroke her and draw her to a height of passion she’d never known before. Pushing her head back into the pillow, Kristen groaned with pleasure.
He moved himself into the spread of her thighs. Holding tightly to his straining shoulders, Kristen urged him into her body.
The pleasure of their joining was pure and explosive. Her breath rushed out in a startled gasp while Jack strained above her, unleashing his fervor. She arched upward to offer them both the fulfillment they craved.
It became a raw act of possession, a hot tide of passion raging through them both. With each deepening thrust, Kristen trembled with the intensity of Jack’s sheer strength. Her fingers moved over the taut flesh of his back, impelling him onward. The fires of anticipation finally burned out of control, and with a fevered groan he lurched inside her, taking her past desire into the sweet fulfillment of a final explosion.
She brushed her lips against Jack’s hot skin. The hunger they had for each other finally sated, a sigh of satisfaction shook through him. He rolled from her, sprawling out beside her on the bed. The coolness of the room drifted over Kristen, and reality intruded once again.
Jack reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and she sank willingly into his embrace, luxuriating in an amazing sense of completion.
The rain stopped, leaving thick clouds to block out the sun until nightfall. Kristen listened to Jack’s even breathing, his heart thudding gently in his chest, so calm compared with an hour ago. He slept peacefully with her wrapped, naked, in his arms. Every so often his hands would slide over her back and hips, caressing her skin even in his sleep.
A knock at the door woke him, sending them both scrambling for their clothes like two teenagers about to be caught in bed together. Kristen jammed her arms into her long shirt. Jack hopped around, trying to get into his pants.
In the middle of it all, Kristen’s head cleared.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “This is ridiculous.” She threw her jeans down to the floor. “We’re two grown adults. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
Jack closed the last button on his fly and picked up his blue shirt. “Maybe not in your mind,” he said. “But I doubt the good folks of Volcano will feel the same way about incest.”
Kristen’s eyes widened. She snatched her jeans from the floor and stumbled into them as a second knock came.
Jack crossed to the door and rested his hand on the knob until Kristen had her clothes on straight. “Ready?” he asked after she’d zipped her pants.
Smoothing down her hair, she rushed to the window and tried to look casual. “Ready.”
The door swung open. Deputy Lewis stood on the threshold, grinning broadly. “Hello, folks.” He had his gun in his hand, a clear indication of why he was there.
Jack reached instinctively for the gun he’d forgotten to strap to his hip. Kristen’s purse was lying at the foot of the bed, her gun too far away to offer them any aid.
“So you’ve finally gotten up the nerve to arrest me, Lewis?” she said. “You’re not satisfied appearing to be a fool, you need to prove yourself one as well?”
Lewis looked too delighted, too sure of himself as he stood in the doorway, his gun trained on Jack. Something was up. His smug manner attested to something far more impressive than just an arrest for horse theft.
“You naughty little boy,” Lewis said, smirking. “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you it ain’t proper to screw your own sister?”
Jack tensed. Fearing the violence rising up in him, Kristen moved toward the two men. “This coming from a prime example of inbreeding,” she said. “Do you plan to tell us why you’re standing there with a gun, or are we supposed to guess?”
Lewis curled his lip. “I’m gonna enjoy hangin’ your brothers.” He sneered. Then he turned back to Jack. “I knew I’d seen you before.” He cocked the hammer on his pistol. “Jack Parrish. You and your brother Hank bear a strong resemblance to each other.”
Kristen’s heart sank to her toes. They’d been discovered. Backing up slowly, she eased down onto the foot of the bed.
Jack gave a brittle laugh. “You think you got it all figured out, don’t ya, Deputy?”
Lewis steadied his gun. “I don’t think so, Parrish, I know so. You and your brother have been robbin’ trains and stages all across Nevada and Arizona for the last ten years. And now I’ve gotcha.” He flashed a smile. “A thousand dollars. Did ya know that’s what they’re asking for ya? Small change, I say, for the bastard sons of Clay Allison.”
Kristen’s jaw dropped open. Clay Allison? The notorious gunslinger Clay Allison?
“Your daddy might have escaped the noose,” Lewis went on, “but you, my friend, will not.”
“You really believe you can pull off what no lawman, includin’ Pinkertons, has been able to do?” Jack asked. “You, Deputy Lewis? A man who let a woman steal his horse right out from under him.”
With a furious growl, Lewis jammed the barrel of his gun into Jack’s abdomen. Jack doubled over, and Kristen felt a moment of panic. She eased her hand down the side of the bed and nudged open her purse.
“I could shoot you now, Parrish, and still get every dime. Ain’t nobody gonna complain!”
Recovering from the blow, Jack smiled down at the pistol. “You think I’d prefer the noose?”
Sweat beaded on Lewis’s forehead. “I expect you to come along quietly. You wouldn’t want your sister gettin’ hurt.”
Jack smiled brutally. “I got news for ya, Lewis,” he whispered. “She ain’t my sister.”
Lewis darted a glance at Kristen, who hid the gun she’d just lifted from her purse in the folds of the blanket at the foot of the bed. “I shoulda guessed that,” Lewis responded with hesitation. “She don’t look nothing like the two of ya. But that don’t make no difference. I’m taking you in, Parrish. You and your brother can swing to your Maker side by side.”
Kristen lifted her gun. “Put down the pistol, Lewis.”
Both men turned to face her. Jack’s lips thinned to a tight, reproachful line. “What the hell are you doin’?”
“Taking care of business,” Kristen responded without taking her eyes off Lewis.
“Put the gun on the floor.” She stood up.
“And then you get down there, Lewis, facefirst.”
She saw the deputy hesitate, tempted to pull the trigger on the gun he still had pressed to Jack’s side. She stared him down. She knew now that she would protect Jack Parrish to the end. “Don’t try it, Lewis. It’ll only get you buried that much quicker.”
One more sweaty pause, and Lewis released the hammer on his gun. He stooped down and set it at Jack’s feet, and then flattened himself against the hard wood floor. “He ain’t worth it, lady,” he said.
Kristen glanced at Jack and their eyes met. She wondered if Lewis was right. Could any man be worth all the laws she was breaking? A week ago she would have thought not. But somehow, somewhere along the line, the rules had all changed.
“Who else knows about Jack?” Kristen asked for the third time. Jack had trussed Lewis’s chest so tightly to the back of the wooden chair Kristen wondered if the deputy could even breathe. The deputy wasn’t talking, which was better than him yelling, but her and Jack’s lives depended on whether or not anybody else knew Jack’s true identity. “Answer me,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
Jack stepped back from the window where he’d been keeping an eye out to see if anybody had followed Lewis. “Answer the lady, lawman. Or would you rather I open your mouth with the painful end of my gun?” To further his meaning, Jack reached out and pressed the bore of his pistol to the deputy’s lips.
“N-nobody,” Lewis blurted. “Nobody — I swear.”
Kristen turned to Jack. “Do you think we can believe him?”
Jack reholstered his gun. “He wanted the reward all to himself.”
“Are . . . are you gonna kill me now?” Lewis squeaked.
“We’ll keep you for a while,” Kristen said, “until we’ve finished what we came here to do.”
Lewis darted glances back and forth from Kristen to Jack. “What did you come here for? If you’s wantin’ to break out your brother, why haven’t ya done it yet?”
“Don’t worry, Lewis. Your visit with us won’t be a long one.” Kristen hoped that was true. She’d never walked to the wrong side of the law before, and it most definitely did not agree with her.
Jack yanked his gun back out of its holster. “Somebody’s comin’.”
Kristen looked anxiously at the deputy. “How do you know they’re coming up here?”
“‘Cause it’s the sheriff, with some fella in a suit.”
Kristen gagged Lewis’s mouth with the bandanna he had around his neck. “What do we do with him?”
Jack glanced around the room. “Help me get him into the closet.”
Taking hold of the back of the chair, they dragged the wide-eyed deputy, bumping and skidding across the floor, into the large closet. Jack handed Kristen his gun. She was shocked at the weight of it, the awkward feel of it in her hands.
“Can you keep him quiet?”
Kristen gave the deputy a hard look. “If he wants to stay alive.”
Jack shut the closet door and Kristen was alone in the dark with Lewis. She could hear his heavy breathing mingled with her own fast anxious breaths, and then she heard the knock and the sound of the front door swinging open on its creaky hinges.
“Jack Ford?” she heard an unfamiliar man ask.
“Yup,” Jack responded.
“I’m Mayor Nathan Collins. This here’s Sheriff Howard Newcomb. We’re here on official business.”
“What can I do for you two gentlemen?” Jack’s voice sounded light, almost pleasant. Kristen took this as a good sign.
“We’ve come to offer you a job.”
Kristen had to cover her mouth to keep from shouting with laughter. She heard a grunt from Lewis and poked him with Jack’s gun. In all her wildest dreams, she’d never dared to hope the town would come to Jack.
“Not interested,” Jack responded.
Kristen froze. Not interested!
“We haven’t even told you the job yet,” the mayor replied congenially.
“I’ve done enough of these kinds of jobs to know what they entail. I’m travelin’, Mayor, with my younger sister, hopin’ to find a little gold along the way. My gun ain’t for hire at the moment.”
Kristen’s fears turned into admiration. Jack was a master haggler.
She heard the mayor chuckle. “We ain’t interested in a shootist, Mr. Ford. We’re looking to make you our next marshal.”
Jack gave a disbelieving laugh. “I think the mayor here has had a little too much to drink, Sheriff.”
“You’re in good standin’ around town,” said another voice, which Kristen assumed was the sheriff’s. “Folks admire and respect you. You’ve got a fast hand, a sharp eye — ”
“And a killer reputation,” Jack cut in.
“That, too.” The mayor chuckled. “We wanna hire ya.”
There was a long silence, and then Jack said, “I don’t think so.”
Kristen gritted her teeth. He seemed to be playing it just a little too close to the vest.
“Pays eight dollars a week.”
She heard Jack’s slow whistle. “Eight dollars? Must be a perilous job.”
The mayor chuckled once again. “Not really, son. We just want the best, and we’re willing to pay for it.”
“Eight dollars.” Jack pondered.
“Eight dollars an’ all the whiskey you can drink.”
Kristen crossed her fingers. If Jack turned them down one more time, they might just walk.
She heard Jack clear his throat. She held her breath and said a little prayer.
“Looks like you boys got yourselves a new marshal.”
It took them thirty minutes and three tries to get Deputy Lewis into Jack’s old room across the hall. Every time they opened the door, someone would appear in the hallway and they’d have to abort the mission. Finally Jack threw open the door, and they went for it. Kristen pushed while he pulled on the back of the chair, and they skidded the deputy across the hall.
Once inside, Kristen shut the door and leaned against it in relief. The last thing they needed was to be caught kidnapping a lawman. “We did it.”
Jack set the wide-eyed deputy against the far wall. “Yeah. But for how long? Somebody’s bound to miss him sooner or later.”
“Well, you’re the new marshal. It’s just a matter of time before you get the keys.”
Lewis struggled at his bounds, mumbling against his gag, and Jack gave her a direct look. “We gotta keep him quiet.”
“What do you think they’ll do if they catch us?”
“Ever been to a hanging?”
Kristen ordered herself to remain calm. “No, but they sound very painful.”
Jack snorted at the understatement.
“Who’s going to take the first shift with him?”
“You mean tonight?”
“Yeah, I mean tonight. We have to keep him quiet, remember?”
“No.” The look he gave her made her knees weak. “Not tonight.”
Kristen cleared her throat. “But if he makes enough noise, the maid might check the room.”
Jack walked across the floor toward her, and she held her breath. There was no mistaking the look of desire in his eyes. “Muffled noises comin’ from hotel rooms are pretty common.”
Staring up at him, remembering what they’d shared only a few hours ago, she was very tempted. But what if he were wrong, and Lewis’s noises weren’t ignored? “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“To hell with your good ideas.”
He bent toward her and kissed her one lingering time. It was almost enough to make Kristen take the risk. Chances were that not a soul would discover the good deputy tonight. She and Jack could simply return to her room. But the thought of being marched up a gallows to have a thick rope drawn tightly around her neck made Kristen bring her hands up to Jack’s chest and stop him from kissing her again. “We can’t.”
Jack paused, and then he looked over his shoulder at the deputy, who watched them intently. “I’m starting to dislike our new friend a great deal,” he grumbled.
Kristen moved toward the bed. “I’ll take the first shift.”
Jack took her by the arm and hauled her back in front of him. “I’ll take the first shift. You can watch him during the day.”
Kristen smiled at the note of possessiveness in his voice. “He’s all tied up, Jack. What is it you think we might do?”
Jack didn’t rise to her bait. “You’re not sleepin’ in the same room with him. It’s my room. I’ll take the first shift. You can watch him tomorrow when I’m bein’ sworn in.”
Kristen’s smile faded. “But I wanted to see you sworn in. I’ve risked just as much as you to pull this whole thing off. I want to be there for the grand finale, not stuck here in the room with him.”
“What do you suggest?” Jack replied. “That I send a polite note to the mayor explainin’ why you’ll be standin’ in for me? We can’t both go and guard the deputy.”
“Dammit, Parrish.” Kristen realized she had no choice. “All right, fine. You watch him now, I’ll watch him tomorrow, but you better be prepared to tell me every little detail when you get back.”
Jack turned her toward the door. “Go to bed, Miss Ford.”
She turned back to him. “Kristen. Remember?”
Jack took her chin in his fingers. “Go to bed, Kristen.”
This kiss wasn’t meant to be an enticement like the last, but Kristen’s stomach apparently didn’t recognize the difference. She wound her hands around his neck and threaded her fingers in his hair. He groaned and pulled her closer.
A muffled noise from Lewis eventually separated them.
“Good night,” she whispered. She turned and hurried from the room before she could give in and drag Jack with her.
The large ballroom echoed the sounds of a small string orchestra. Lights from four gas chandeliers cast shadows on the carved ceiling. The din of a hundred chattering voices filled Kristen’s ears, but none more so than those of the four girls who stood in a tight circle next to her.
She had had a long, uneasy day, and as she’d informed Jack upon his announcement of the mayoral ball that evening, she had no desire to sit on the sidelines and watch old-fashioned women attempt to dance in rigid corsets and bustles. The thought alone sent her into a fit of laughter.
While Jack had been away all day being sworn in, accepting congratulations, and getting drunk with the town council, she’d been stuck in his old room at the hotel, tending to Deputy Lewis. And she’d had a hell of a day keeping that man quiet.
The deputy had learned early on in the morning that she had no intention of hurting him. And he’d quickly taken advantage. If he wasn’t grumbling and muttering loudly, he was thumping his feet on the floor, or making some other kind of racket. She’d ended up putting a thick quilt beneath him and pillow sheets over his head, just to muffle his noise a little more. By evening, she had hoped to be resting in the quiet of her own room, not partying with the townsfolk.
But here she stood, on the sidelines, having given in to Jack’s theory that even though the mayor had sworn him in that morning, the town council could still change their minds. Kristen was under the sneaking suspicion that Jack was beginning to enjoy his popularity and just wanted to bask in the public eye as much as possible before he left town. She only hoped Deputy Lewis was resting quietly in the closet where they’d left him.
“I heard he shot a man down in Phoenix for splattering mud on a woman’s skirts.”
Kristen rolled her eyes at the young girl’s dreamy-voiced account. Jack’s reputation preceded him, or rather exceeded him, everywhere they went. And half the town knew Deputy Lewis was missing. Everyone knew Lewis had gotten on Jack’s bad side right off the bat, and they all suspected Jack of being involved in the deputy’s disappearance. But nobody seemed to care. They had themselves a bona fide gunslinger for a lawman, and that was all that mattered to the town of Volcano.
“He’s killed twenty-nine men, they say. One for every year of his life.”
“And all of them on account of insulting a woman.”
“Oh, he moves divinely. The man was made to dance.”
Kristen smirked inwardly. The man was made to irritate her, and she would hear no arguments.
“I bet he dances divinely beneath the covers.”
The group broke into silly giggles. “Sally Mae,” one girl whispered fiercely, “you say the most outrageous things.”
Kristen had heard enough. She lifted her cumbersome skirts and moved around the edge of the dance floor. She strolled toward a small group of ladies gathered near the door.
“It is not the prerogative of man to place such restrictions upon the upstanding women of this community! We must stand up for our rights, dear sisters, though they be few, and demand more, many more!”
The mayor’s wife, to whom Kristen had been introduced earlier, stood in the center of a growing group and was attempting to rouse them into rebellion.
“How long must we bear the weight of their heavy thumbs? How many elections do we let pass before we insist on being counted? How crushed must our spirits be before we rise up as one and demand that which we are being denied?”
Kristen moved closer, a sense of pride straightening her shoulders. This must be how the women’s movement had all begun, with small groups of women, growing restless with their husbands’ rules, longing to stretch their arms and touch the endless sky of freedom their male counterparts enjoyed.
“No longer shall we suffer under their rule,” the woman named Emily Collins continued. “No longer shall we accept being referred to as property, livestock, chattel. We, dear sisters, are the roots of this country. Without us there would be no sympathy, no generosity. Without us there would be no comfort, no nourishment for the soul. Without us there would be no children to replenish this earth!”
“Pardon me for sayin’ so, Mrs. Collins, but my husband does put forth a small effort with that particular task.”
Emily Collins turned to scowl at the smirking, plump woman behind her. “Is that a fact, Caroline Jones? And tell me, what age do you think your children would have been fortunate enough to reach if your husband had been given sole care of them after their birth?”
Caroline Jones’s smile slipped from her face, and she blinked rapidly.
“Perhaps the ripe old age of an hour?” Emily answered her own question. “We birth them, we nurse them, we raise them, we teach them right from wrong, good from bad, and when our boys reach the age of maturity, we’re cast down from the pedestal on which we stood, only to be treated no better than the rug they wipe their boots on after a hard day’s work. Is this right, I ask you? Is this justice?”
Kristen felt a hand on her shoulder. “Tempted to order ‘em up a round of beer, Miss Ford?”
She turned and looked into Jack’s bright eyes. “I believe the question is, would you?”
Jack gave a compliant lift of his brows. “Like you said, a woman should be allowed to drink and fall asleep in her own vomit, just like a man. You haven’t danced yet,” he added.
“Danced?” she laughed. “Get back to me when they play some Paula Abdul.”
It seemed Jack had long ago given up on trying to understand her. He took her by the arm. “Come and waltz with me.”
Kristen planted her feet, refusing to step into the groups of swirling, dancing couples and humiliate herself beyond belief. “No thanks.”
“No thanks? I’m asking you to dance.”
“I realize you’ve not been lacking in the dance-partner department this evening, Mr. Marshal, but this particular swooning female is not interested.”
A slow grin tipped one corner of Jack’s mouth. “You don’t know how to dance.”
Kristen brushed his hand from her arm. “I do too know how to dance. I just don’t know how to dance like that,” she said, gesturing toward the dance floor.
Jack slipped his arm around her back. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Knowing she was going to regret it, Kristen still allowed Jack to lead her out onto the floor. She looked nervously at the people around her as he turned her toward him, clasped her fingers in his, and placed his hand on the small of her back.
He took a step forward; she stumbled back. He took a step back; she stumbled forward.
Kristen concentrated on Jack’s feet, trying not to let her embarrassment show.
Jack took another step forward. Kristen faltered and gripped his shoulder for support. He persevered until she’d crunched his toes beneath her boots. Muttering an oath, Jack stopped and Kristen stammered an apology. Moving her forward, Jack tried again, only to be faced with the same disastrous results.
He finally gave up. “Is there a reason you keep jumping all over my feet?”
Knowing people were starting to stare, Kristen maintained a rigid smile. “I told you,” she forced out from between her clenched teeth, “I don’t know how to waltz.”
“What woman doesn’t know how to waltz?” Jack demanded.
“This one.”
“Let’s try again.”
“Let’s not.” Kristen shook off his hand and stepped back from him. “Where in the rules does it say I have to learn to waltz?”
“Do you want to make a good impression on this town or not?”
“Why would I care? We’re only going to be here for a few more days,” she whispered.
“Have it your way then,” he replied. He turned and left her standing there.
At a loss, Kristen smiled at those who stared. Then she followed Jack outside to the porch, where he stood staring at the heavy clouds in the sky. “One of these days,” she said, “you’re going to walk away from me like that and get a spiraling object embedded in the back of your skull.”
Jack stood half-bent, his elbows propping him up on the porch railing. “I’m only trying to help you.”
She slipped up next to him and leaned against the rail. “If waltzing is that important to you, Jack, then I’ll — ”
“No.” He turned to her. “It’s not the damn dance. It’s the town. They don’t know you, they haven’t accepted you. We’ve gotta fix that before I leave, or they’ll — ”
“Wait a second,” Kristen interrupted him. “Before you leave? Forgive me for even thinking this, but I thought last night everything between us changed.”
Jack looked away, shaking his head. “For one brief, crazy moment I thought you were different.”
Kristen stiffened. “Meaning?”
Jack faced her, anger written all over his face.
“You’re a carbon copy of every woman I’ve ever come across. The way you each get a man into your bed may be different, but the way you simper to keep him there is always the same.” His voice dropped down an octave. “I suppose that like all the others, when I leave, you’ll turn me in and gladly point out the direction I rode?”
Kristen’s lower lip trembled with indignity. “It wouldn’t be worth my energy being vindictive toward a bastard like you. Has it ever occurred to you, Jack, that like you, all I was after was a good lay?”
Jack’s amber eyes narrowed. “You have a very offensive mouth for a woman.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday when we were making love.” His nostrils flared at her blatant reminder of their interlude. “Or were you talking from between your legs at the time?”
“Damn, you’re enraging,” he said, clenching his jaw. “I’m only trying to help you. I don’t want it on my conscience that I left you behind in a town that hanged you for my crime.”
“No, you wouldn’t want that.”
“They’ll do it if they think for one second you’ve helped me.”
“And Deputy Lewis?” Kristen demanded.
“What’s to keep him from talking?”
Jack looked away, his closed expression telling her everything.
“You’re not going to kill him. I won’t let you.”
“You won’t let me!” Jack barked back at her.
“No. I won’t.”
“Again, you have the half-assed notion that I need your permission to piss, Miss Ford.”
“I’m not going to let you kill somebody, Jack, especially for my sake. Besides, I’m not staying behind. And that’s something I don’t need your permission for.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why are you so hell-bent on followin’ me?”
Here was a question that demanded some careful thought. Kristen could tell him the truth, that she hoped to go home after she changed the course of his life. But she wasn’t so sure that was the true reason anymore. The truth was, she’d come to care for Jack, despite his rudeness, his coldness, and his apparent disregard for her. She needed to be with him, that was a fact, no matter that he glared, yelled, brooded, or insulted her.
There was a tenderness to him, something he didn’t want others to see, but she’d seen it in the last week when he’d tried to protect her from Hank, when he’d relented and let her tag along behind him, and when he’d saved her from the man in the alleyway. She had caught it in occasional glances, half smiles, and even a small laugh every now and then. There was a gentle, sensitive, caring man somewhere inside Jack Parrish. Kristen had only cracked the surface.
She took a deep breath and said, “I’m so bent on following you because I need you.” She knew she couldn’t say more without scaring him, and even at those few noncommittal words he turned away. “It’s that plain, that simple.” She touched his arm to regain his attention. “I need you. I don’t have anybody else.”
Jack raised his hand to cup her face. His gaze was warm, his touch gentle. “Then I feel sorry for you, Miss Ford. Real sorry.”
He walked away from her, back into the house. Tears burned at Kristen’s eyes, but she sniffed them away with a toss of her head. He wasn’t going to leave her behind, not even if she had to stuff herself into one of his saddlebags.
It was well past midnight before they left the ball. A half-moon hung in the sky, muted by an occasional layer of clouds. A cool breeze rustled down and lifted Kristen’s hair off her shoulders. Walking alongside Jack on the boardwalk, she pulled her loosely knit shawl closer around her.
“You cold?” Jack shrugged an arm out of his jacket.
Though the thought of wrapping herself up in his spicy scent was appealing, Kristen shook her head. She was learning that to get too close to Jack Parrish meant getting hurt. She needed to keep her distance from him for a while, if only to rebuild her morale.
“When will you make your move?” she asked.
“Huh?” The startled look he gave her indicated that he’d misinterpreted her question.
“For Hank and Bobby. When are you planning to spring them?”
“Oh. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Do you have the key?”
Flashing a triumphant grin, he jangled the keys in his jacket pocket. “There’ve been times in my life when I would have handed over somebody’s granny to get a hold of one of these. I wonder if one key fits all.”
Kristen deliberated before asking her next question. “You’ve been in jail a lot, haven’t you, Jack?”
“I’ve done my share of time.”
“But that time in jail hasn’t been enough to daunt you into going straight?”
“If you’re askin’ me whether it’s discouraged me into walkin’ on the right side of the law, then I figure it’s pretty clear it hasn’t.”
She shook her head with a soft laugh. “It’s funny how different, and yet so alike, you and I are.”
Jack gave her a surprised glance. “You’ve been in jail? No, wait, don’t tell me. You killed a man by embedding a china plate into the back of his skull.”
Kristen laughed. “No, I’ve never been sent to jail.”
In front of their hotel, he paused to turn to her. “Then how is it you find us so alike?”
Kristen glanced up into his shadowed face.
“We both followed in the footsteps of our fathers.”
All at once his expression darkened. He looked down at her with that familiar baleful stare. “My father ran too fast for me to keep up with his footsteps, Miss Ford.” He moved toward the hotel door, but Kristen blocked his way.
“Your contempt for him is strong, Jack,” she whispered. “Why, then? Why did you allow yourself to become what he was?”
“I’m not anything like my father!” Jack’s deep, sudden shout rang out through the still night air. “Do you know” — he took Kristen brutally by the arm — “that he used to put us up against a wall and shoot at us for target practice? Clay Allison’s idea of fishin’ was taking his two- and six-year-old bastard sons down to the river and throwin’ ‘em in. Do you have any idea the terror a boy feels when he can’t trust his life with his own father? We are nothin’ alike, you and me, nothing at all.” He shoved her away from him.
Kristen fell back against the wall of the hotel. Rage built in her, pure and strong. The man may have barely survived a tragic childhood, but she was sick to death of taking the blame for it, of being treated as if it had all been her fault, of being pushed, shoved, pulled, yanked, bellowed at, leered at, glared at. It was time to stand up to the devil and give him a taste of his own hell.
Even though she knew one strike from Jack’s hand could knock her senseless, she took a firm grip on his coat sleeve and pulled him around to face her. “Poor, pitiful, defenseless Jack!” she spat. “His daddy didn’t love him, and the women he sleeps with expect commitments from him. Poor, poor, Jack!”
With a dangerous glint in his eye, he took her by the front of her shawl and pressed her up against the hotel wall.
“Go ahead!” she cried. “Beat the hell out of me! See if that’ll make the pain go away. See if that’ll make the truth of your past just a bad dream you can shake off. I don’t care!”
Tears pooled in Kristen’s eyes. “I’m sick of taking the punishment for all the sins others have committed against you. I’m tired of your moody frowns and your hateful stares. Grow up, Jack!” she shouted into his face. “Life isn’t fair! We’re all born into this screwed-up world, and just when we think we’ve got it all figured out, we die. Where’s the justice in that? You go around acting like life has it in for you. Well, I’ve got news for you, pal, life has it in for all of us! And you’re right, we’re nothing alike. I choose to make my mark in life, and you choose to let life mark you!”
There was a long moment of silence before Jack released his hold on her shawl. His hard eyes riveted to her face, and he backed away from her. Kristen’s heart cried out for him, for the tortured little boy he once was, and for the tormented man he’d become. “Take life in your hands, Jack,” she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Make it what you want it to be. Don’t let it grow into what you and I both know it’s becoming.”
Jack turned and walked in the direction of the jail, leaving Kristen with the wind brushing at the dampness on her face. She hung her head and let the tears fall, wondering if she’d ever see him again.
That night, as Kristen lay burrowed beneath the covers of her bed, thunder once again rent the stillness of the room. She couldn’t fall asleep.
She’d made sure Deputy Lewis sat tied up, gagged, and sound asleep in the closet in the room across the hall. Then she’d put on a night-gown and climbed into bed. But guilt gnawed at her, and it was only magnified by the oncoming storm. Where would Jack find shelter from the rain? Was he already miles away from town, with Hank and Bobby riding in his wake?
Tossing her covers aside, she rose from the bed to look out the window. Rain fell in great sheets, so fast that she could barely make out the sign on the Painted Lady across the street. Drops pounded against the roof and splattered against the window, flooding the ground with puddles that wouldn’t dry for days.
What would she do if Jack had left her? Her days of chasing him were over, she knew that for certain. Her heart couldn’t withstand another round of verbal warfare or emotional battle. But he was out there somewhere, with the rain falling all around him, with the wind biting at his face and the thunder battering at his nerves.
“Where are you, Jack?” she whispered against the cold pane of glass. She wiped the fog her warm breath had made. “Come back to me.”
She had barely uttered these words when the door to her room creaked open. Kristen pulled back from the window and crouched by the dresser, hidden in the shadows, as a tall man eased his way into her room and shut the door. A roll of thunder reverberated in her ears. Her heart pounded with expectancy.
“Kristen?” It was Jack. “Kristen?” he whispered again. She watched him move to the bed and run his hands across the blankets. After finding nothing, he threw the covers on the floor in frustration. “Where the devil are you?”
Kristen remained where she was, watching his silhouette in the dim light as he sat at the foot of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Her heart melting at his distress, she stepped out of the shadows. “I haven’t left, if that’s what you’re hoping,” she found the courage to say.
His head came up. He stared into the darkness at her. “Why are you hiding?”
“I was looking out the window, wondering. . . .”
“Wondering where I was?”
“I’ll get you a towel.”
She headed across the floor toward the closet, but Jack stopped her. “Just help me get these wet clothes off,” he said as he lifted a sodden boot to her.
She hesitated for only a moment before walking toward him. She gripped his boot by the heel and wrenched it off his foot. “How long have you been out in the downpour?”
Jack was watching her carefully. “Long enough to soak my head.”
He stood and went to work at the buttons on his fly. He was so wet his pants stuck to his muscular legs like a second skin. He struggled with them for a while and finally said, “Help me get these off.”
She tugged from the back, he peeled from the front, and they had his denim pants stripped to the floor in seconds. He didn’t bother to unbutton his shirt, he just tore the buttons free and peeled it from his arms. “The rain went right through my jacket,” he said, his teeth beginning to chatter.
Kristen nodded stiffly, trying not to look at him as he stood naked and shivering in the middle of the floor. “You should probably get under the covers before you freeze to death,” she said. She picked up the blanket that lay at his feet. “I’ll sleep in the other room.”
“Nobody’s heard the deputy yet. He’ll be fine on his own tonight.”
Kristen stiffened. “Then I’ll sleep right here on the floor.”
“It’s too cold to sleep on the floor. We’ll share the bed.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He took one smooth step toward her, his magnificent nakedness staring her boldly in the face. “Do you need an engraved invitation, Miss Ford?” he asked.
Kristen clenched her fists at her sides to remind herself how angry at him she was supposed to be. “Am I to understand that this is your version of an apology? Offering to take me to bed?”
At her harsh question, Jack’s expression turned serious. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Yes,” he murmured so softly she barely heard. Slipping his cool fingers up her bare arms, he said, “I know I can be a real son of a bitch at times.”
His hands ran up her neck, his palms brushing the sides of her face and smoothing the hair back from her eyes. “I want you wrapped around me again, Kristen,” he whispered, his breath warm on her face. “I’ve burned like hell for you every second since yesterday.”
Kristen didn’t know whether to groan with desire or throw a fit. Did this mean she’d gotten through to him? Or did it only mean he planned to use her one more time before he left?
His hands slid from her throat to the tops of her breasts covered by her thin nightgown. He looked down at her, the dim light from the window silhouetting her figure. “You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kristen stared up into his impassioned face, hovering on the line between giving in and rejecting him. Her heart beat a rapid rhythm in her chest. Her breath quickened. He rubbed his thumbs enticingly at her nipples, shooting sparks of desire down her spine.
His lips smothered her impassioned moan. Hot and hungry, his mouth seared over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “I thought you’d left me,” she breathed in between partings of their lips.
“How could I” — he rained kisses down her neck — “when you need me so much?”
She smiled and pulled him back to her mouth. His tongue nudged against her lips, and she allowed him the deeper intimacy, feeling his body shudder with a need that matched her own. In a quick motion, he lifted her nightgown from her body and tossed it to the floor.
He gently pressed her, naked, to the wall. His hands roamed her stomach, skimmed over each of her ribs, and caressed the undersides of her breasts. The stubble on his chin scraped against her skin as he nuzzled ravenously at her neck. How was it that this dangerous, deadly man made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before?
His hands slid down the sides of her back, cupping her curves, lifting her up against him.
Gripping his broad shoulders, Kristen wrapped her legs around his narrow hips. She bit at his ear and lightly rubbed her face over the roughness of his jaw.
Jack entered her with a growl. She threw back her head, a sigh of pleasure pouring from the back of her throat. He was magnificent, this soul mate of hers, and only in their physical joining had she ever felt complete.
He pressed into her, his hands moving over her tightened thighs, clutching at her hips. He eased himself out, achingly slowly, his palms skimming her ribs, rising higher to cup her breasts and fondle her nipples.
He kissed her throat, her shoulders, the tops of her breasts. With the wall as leverage, he made love to her with a fierceness to rival the storm outside. Theirs was a brutal passion, rough and rugged, and her lips bruised beneath his insatiable kisses. He stoked a fire in her that burned brighter than the sun as, thrust after thrust, he forced her to a shattering end.
Kristen clutched at him as he found his own release. She held him in the circle of her arms until his breathing calmed and the tension left him. “Promise me, Jack,” she then whispered. “Promise me you won’t leave me here.”
He lifted his head from the hollow of her throat. She couldn’t see what emotion burned in his face, but knew he had softened since their earlier confrontation. She took his face in her hands and looked deeply into his shadowed eyes. “Promise me,” she repeated.
She felt his convulsive swallow and knew he battled with values she might never understand. “I promise I won’t leave you here,” he whispered to her through the darkness.
And for the first time in her life, Kristen fell in love.
“Where’s your mother, Jack?” She lay stretched out next to him on the bed the next morning, her fingers tracing tiny circles on his chest. The storm outside still raged. It took Jack a moment to respond to her question, a moment that told her she’d found another sensitive subject. “My father caught her stealing money from him to feed us.”
“And?”
“He shot her.”
Stunned, Kristen stopped her idle motions on his chest. “He . . . he killed her?”
Tucking his hands behind his head, Jack stared blankly at the ceiling and nodded. “On a night just like last night. I remember wonderin’ if I’d really heard the shot, or if it had just been the thunder.”
Compassion rose up in Kristen, but she’d learned that to offer Jack Parrish sympathy meant a showdown she might never forget. “How old were you?”
“Ten,” he answered without hesitation. The memory was apparently very clear in his mind.
“Was he jailed?”
“I told you,” Jack answered calmly as if he were responding to a perfectly normal question, “my dad ran too fast for anybody to keep up.”
“What happened to you and Hank?”
“Relatives of my ma’s took us in. We bounced from one home after the other. We finally got sick of it and struck out on our own.”
Getting this kind of information out of Jack so easily was akin to the wall falling in Germany. Kristen knew she had to proceed carefully, but not without a small amount of excitement that he was finally opening up to her. “How old were you when you and Hank struck out?”
Jack took a moment to answer this time. “About sixteen, I guess.”
“How did the two of you survive?”
Jack laughed deeply. “We robbed everything we could get our little hands on.”
Kristen smiled at the warm sound of his laughter. “Well, you certainly didn’t starve.” She patted his solid, naked stomach.
“No. But we had our close calls just the same.”
“And yet you persisted?”
Jack turned to look at her. “We did what we had to do.”
Kristen nodded. “Will you always be an outlaw?” She ran a finger down the long bridge of his nose.
“Will you always be such a nag?” he said, grinning.
Her breath caught at the radiance of his smile. “Maybe,” she said with a laugh.
He rolled over her. “Then maybe I’ll be too busy keeping your mouth shut to be anything at all.”
His kiss was that of a man satisfied, the gentle, persuasive caress of a lover.
Hank gripped his stomach in laughter while Jack sat quietly, waiting for his brother’s fit to subside. “I don’t believe it,” Hank hooted. “Jack Parrish, outlaw and town marshal!”
“If you could keep your voice down, I’d appreciate it,” Jack said softly. “Eat your damn breakfast.”
Hank looked at Bobby in the next cell, and they both broke into guffaws. “I never woulda believed it if’n I hadn’t seen it myself!” Bobby shouted. “Looky at that there star. Gee, Jack, it sure is shiny.” Both men hooted some more.
“You got any better ideas on how to get the two of you outta this place without blowing you to bits?” Jack asked, his expression tight. “Now you can see all the trouble I’ve gone to, and all because you two got overanxious with that stage.”
“What was we supposed ta do?” Bobby demanded.
“Wait for you and Miss Ford to get done with business and miss out on all that gold?” Hank added. “Say, whatever happened to sweet little Miss Ford?”
Jack stared at Hank’s inquiring smile, deliberating whether or not to let his brother in on the truth. “She’s taken care of.”
“Ya shot her?” Bobby asked excitedly.
“No.”
“Ya dumped her?”
“No.”
“I’m starting to get this uneasy feeling in my innards, Jack,” Hank warned him. “What, exactly, did you do with Miss Ford?”
Jack looked his brother square in the eye. “Exactly? Well, first I dragged her through Indian country and into Volcano. Then I let her talk me outta blowin’ the two of you, and most likely myself, into smithereens. I bought her some new clothes. I fed her a decent meal. Then I helped her out of her new clothes and dressed us both up in the covers on her bed. Any questions?”
Bobby shook his head, wide-eyed. “Oh, Jack. This don’t sound good. You got that gleam, the kinda gleam only a clincher can put in a man’s eye.”
“But when you were through beddin’ her? Then you shot her, right, Jack? Tell me I’m right, Jack,” Hank pleaded.
“Have I ever shot a woman?”
“I’ve known a few you wanted ta shoot,” Bobby blurted out.
“Oh, Jesus. Sweet Mother of God,” Hank moaned. “You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you? Didn’t you learn anything from those two ladies down in New Mexico? What’s to stop this one from turnin’ us in the second we leave?”
“She doesn’t know where we’re headed,” Jack answered simply.
“That doesn’t change the facts, Jack. You can’t trust women, and little Miss Ford ain’t no different from the rest.”
Jack stood. He lifted a small key ring high enough for both men to see. “You want me to get you outta here later tonight? Then I suggest we drop this subject.”
“Don’t worry, Hank.” Bobby drooled over the sight of the keys. “We’re finally gettin’ outta here. At least Jack ain’t bringing the woman with us.”
Jack pushed the keys back into his pants pocket. “At least I’m not doin’ that.”
“Ya see there.” Bobby grinned. “Everything’s working out just fine.”
“But she wants to come, doesn’t she, Jack?” Hank pressed on. “Just like they always do.”
“I’m takin’ her to Cottonwoods to catch the first train west.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “And you think she’ll hop right on this train without poutin’ about how you shouldn’t leave her behind?”
Jack gave a soft laugh. “I doubt she’ll go along peacefully.”
“Then let me take her, Jack.”
Jack’s attention focused on his brother. Having seen how upset Hank was that Kristen still breathed, he questioned his brother’s motives.
“It’s pretty plain you don’t have the stomach for it,” Hank persisted. “She’ll come along quiet for me, and that way you don’t have to listen to her cryin’ on and on all the way to Cottonwoods.”
Jack considered this option. It was true he was bound to have a difficult time putting Kristen on that train, and that was if she agreed, which he knew she wouldn’t. Hank wouldn’t have an easier time of it, but Jack also knew that Hank wouldn’t give in to Kristen’s pleas or tears.
“There’s the matter of the deputy,” Jack said. “He figured out who I was. We had to tie him up and hide him in a room across the hall.”
“You want I should kill him, Jack?” Bobby asked.
“No,” Jack said. “Kristen doesn’t want the man killed.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed in an expression that told Jack he was churning something around in that head of his. “I’ll let the deputy go just outside of town, and then I’ll escort Miss Ford all the way to Cottonwoods. It’s the best way, Jack.”
Jack stepped closer to the bars and stared his brother down. “The way that woman’s got me tied up in knots, I’d have to agree. But, little brother, if you hurt her, if you touch a single strand of her golden hair, you’ll be sorry I didn’t let you hang.” Hank paled. “Me and Bobby’ll wait for you at the Arizona border,” Jack continued. “We’ll expect you to meet us in the camp by the Colorado River before the end of the week.” Jack stepped back. “Now get some rest, boys. Tonight’s a busy night.”
Kristen wrapped the loaf of bread she had bought from the restaurant in a cloth and tucked it into her saddlebag. She did the same with four of the apples and then took a bite out of the fifth. Jack had told her they were heading for Utah after they broke Hank and Bobby out tomorrow night.
She sat across from him on the floor of the room they were holding Lewis in. While the deputy looked on she and Jack were packing and cleaning their weapons for their hasty departure the next evening.
Jack had barely glanced at her since his visit to his brother that morning. He didn’t even seem intrigued, as he usually was, at the sight of her automatic gun.
Kristen ducked her head to catch his attention. “You seem awfully shy today. I don’t suppose Hank and Bobby gave you a hard time about bringing me along?”
Jack’s mouth curved into a half smile. He finished cleaning his pistol, inside and out, and picked up his shotgun to do the same.
“I suppose it’ll take some time for them to get used to me,” Kristen continued. “Just like I’ll have to get used to them.”
Finishing with her gun, she clicked on the safety catch and put it back into her purse. She picked up Jack’s pistol and slipped it into his holster hanging from the bedpost. She took another bite of her apple. “Have you given any thought to my idea of buying a ranch in Texas?”
“Me and the boys discussed it,” Jack mumbled back, working intently on his shotgun.
“Well, I didn’t exactly mean to include Hank and Bobby,” Kristen said with a frown. “But since the three of you are so close, I suppose they could buy a place next door. I’m not moving too fast for you, am I, Jack?”
He looked up distractedly.
“I mean, I never intended to stay. . . .” Kristen trailed off. “It’s just that so much has happened between us. More than I ever expected.” She searched Jack’s eyes for a reflection of the emotion she felt. “You do want me to stay with you, don’t you?”
Jack set down the shotgun. He took Kristen’s hand and whispered, “I want that more than anything.”
Kristen beamed at him and changed his grip into a firm handshake. “Then we’re a team, right, Parrish?”
Jack nodded, giving her a sad kind of smile, making Kristen wonder what Hank had really said that afternoon.
“Good.” She watched Jack closely. “‘cause, although this might sound a bit strange to you, I know things that can make us richer than you could ever imagine. No more stagecoaches for this team, huh-uh.” She shook her head. “We’re going legal all the way.”
Jack gave her an indulgent grin. “And a ranch in Texas is where this cartload of riches starts?”
“Yep. A nice chunk of oil-soaked Texas property.”
“Oil.” Jack looked skeptically.
“Yes, oil.”
“Kristen, there isn’t any oil in Texas. I heard they found some in Pennsylvania a while back — ”
“Have they looked for oil in Texas?”
“Not that I know of, but — ”
“Then how can you be so sure there isn’t any?”
Jack smiled with confidence. “The same way I know there aren’t wild animals roamin’ around in my head, even though I haven’t checked.”
Kristen raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? Because you were snoring like a wild pig just this morning.”
With an evil glint to his eyes, Jack stole a look at the deputy across the room. “It’s awful crowded in here. How ‘bout a picnic?”
Kristen glanced over at the window. The sun had finally come out that day, burning bright and hot on the town. A picnic. What better way for them to spend one of their last days in Volcano, Nevada?
A mile outside of town, Kristen sat in the grass and laughed as Jack lay stretched out in the shade of a tree, his hat resting on his chest, her sunglasses perched on his nose. He kept slipping the glasses up and down, checking the darkness from one moment to the next.
“These really work,” he finally said with a note of surprise.
“Of course they work.” Kristen giggled.
Jack sat up, his head turning her way. “And you can’t see what I’m lookin’ at?”
Kristen shook her head.
He continued to look her way, a slow smile creeping up on his face. “Then these could come in mighty handy.”
Kristen laughed some more. “The way you’re leering, you’d think they were X-ray.”
“X-ray?”
“X-ray glasses make it possible for you to see through things — namely clothing.”
Jack smiled. “You got any of those X rays?”
“No.” Kristen threw a chunk of sod at him. “They only exist in the fertile minds of men like you.”
Jack went back to looking at the shaded nature around him. “I can practically stare right at the sun with these on.”
“You’ll hurt your eyes doing that. Are you going to eat any more of this chicken?” Kristen pointed to the half-empty picnic basket beside her on the blanket.
Jack shook his head. She smiled as he crouched close to a resting bee and watched it through the darkened glass. “I’ll save it then. We can take it with us tomorrow night.”
Jack’s head came up. He left the bee and sat back against the tree, watching her wrap up their picnic lunch.
“How long will we have to wait tomorrow night before we can get Hank and Bobby and leave?”
Jack shrugged. “Past midnight.”
“Hank’s not going to be very happy to see me, is he?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Kristen pulled the handles of the picnic basket together and crawled off the blanket over to Jack. “You’re not at all sorry you’re doing this, are you? I mean, you’re not having any second thoughts?”
Jack took her hands and pulled her down to straddle his thighs. He moved her toward him and kissed her fully on the mouth. “I know I’m doin’ the right thing,” he muttered. “For me and for you.”
Kristen ran her hands up his chest, circling her fingers around the hard muscle of his shoulders. “You won’t regret the choice?” she whispered against his lips.
Jack didn’t answer. Instead he rolled her beneath him and into the tall grass.
The bright moon shone through the window, bathing their bodies in silver light as Jack made love to Kristen for the last time.
With worshipful hands he memorized the curves and valleys of her body, the taut but silken texture of her skin. As they moved together in a perfect, slow rhythm, he treasured each of her sighs, her impassioned moans, her loving whispers. He would remember her for the rest of his life as the one woman who had touched his soul, who had embraced him with her whole heart and given him his first and only taste of the civilized world. If only he had the ability to accept what she offered.
His heavy breath mingling with hers, he looked at her face and knew he would never forget the arch of her golden brows, the stubborn tilt of her chin, or the warm gray color of her eyes. She was a force to be reckoned with, a tempest that no man could ever truly tame. And she’d been his, if only for a short time.
She arched her back, offering him the sweetness of her breasts, begging him to take her. He bent his head to her, feeling the smoothness of her skin against his lips, the rigidness of her nipple against his tongue. She was heaven, the only heaven he’d ever know.
Pressing his lips to the vee between her breasts, Jack breathed in her musky scent and basked momentarily in the feel of her small hands gripping his shoulders. Kristen’s hands tangled in his hair, bringing his mouth back to hers so that he might once again feel the depth of her desire.
He captured her face, watching her eyes smolder as he strained over her, taking her with him when he crashed through the barriers of control.
Jack paused outside the jail house, remembering the time not so long ago when he’d first come there with Kristen. She had laughed at his effort, and he’d resented her for coming up with a better plan, but even then he had felt a connection with her that he still had a hard time defining.
Slipping the key into the lock, he swung the front door open with a tiny creak and stepped inside his office. He glanced at the desk in the corner that he would never sit at, the potbelly stove against the far wall that he would never fill with wood against the winter cold. He laughed to himself at the thought that he’d almost made something of himself here. Clay Allison’s son, a lawman? It just didn’t make sense. He’d gone too far over the wrong side of the line to think he could change now.
He put the key in the jailroom door and gave it a push.
“That you, Jack?” he heard Hank whisper.
“Yeah.” He slipped one more key in one more lock, and his brother was free at last.
Hank smacked him on the shoulder with exuberance. They both let Bobby out of his cell and, once they’d all gotten their bearings, moved into the outer office.
Jack handed them their holsters and pistols from the rack on the wall. Then he turned to his brother. “I left Kristen asleep in her bed. She’s in Room Three at the hotel down the street. The deputy’s across the hall.”
“Right.” Hank nodded. He buckled on his gunbelt.
Jack took him forcibly by the arm. “Remember what I told you, Hank. Not one hair.”
“Right, right. I’ll wake her up after you’ve had about fifteen minutes to ride. I’ll explain everything to her, Jack. Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Hey, do ya want me to tell her somethin’ like you love her and wish it didn’t have to end this way? Just for effect?”
Jack had never felt such a strong urge to strangle his brother. Suddenly the idea of escaping with Hank and Bobby made him feel like there was a rock in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell her I said it’s best this way. That I promised I wouldn’t leave her in town, and you’re there to see my word through.”
“And the deputy?” Hank asked.
“Like you said. Let him go outside of town.” Jack slipped on his leather gloves. “But only when you’re sure you and Kristen can get away clean. Make damned sure he doesn’t know where she’s headed.”
“And then I’ll meet you at the river camp by the end of the week.”
“Right.” Jack looked at Hank squarely one last time. “Don’t screw this up.”
Hank grinned back. “Don’t worry yourself so much, big brother. I’ll take care of everything.”
Hank eased open the door to Room 3 and slipped inside. Kristen was sleeping peacefully, bundled up in the bed, as if Jack had tucked her in himself before leaving. He stood at the foot of her bed and considered her for a moment, not liking her any more than he had the last time they’d met, but awed by her just the same. She’d managed, somehow, to bring Jack Parrish to heel. Even though Jack was at that very moment riding out of town with Bobby, Hank had no doubt that this woman had come to mean a great deal to his brother. Why else would Jack be so concerned for her safety? Why else would Jack consider putting himself at risk by going out of his way to place her on a train going west?
And then there was the question of this deputy. Hank turned and looked at the door across the hall. Kristen doesn’t want him killed. Those had been Jack’s exact words. Here was a lawman who could finger Jack as being a member of the Parrish gang, a man who could pick him out of a crowd, a man who was damned straight in the way, as far as Hank was concerned. But Kristen didn’t want him killed.
Hank glanced back to the woman in the bed. “You must have been some fine piece, lady,” he muttered under his breath in the darkness. “But you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Moving across the hall, he eased open the deputy’s door. “Deputy?” he whispered into the dark room. “It looks to me like you need them ropes loosened.”
Kristen yawned and stretched and opened her eyes to the new morning. She sensed before looking that Jack wasn’t in the room. Frowning at his absence, she rose and dressed herself, glad that this would be the last day she had to wear a petticoat and skirt. Tonight she would dress in a shirt and her jeans and ride off with Jack into the sunset — a Jack who no longer embraced the wrong side of the law, a Jack who would forge forward with a life of integrity and morality. Kristen wasn’t sure why the Guide hadn’t appeared to take her back to the future, but it didn’t matter. She had decided she wouldn’t be going back. There was nothing left for her in the twentieth century. Her place was here, with Jack.
There was a knock on the door and she broke into a wide smile. “Oh, Jack,” she said as she threw open the door, “you don’t have to — ”
It wasn’t Jack but the mayor and the sheriff who stood in her doorway, their expressions dire. Her first thought was that something had happened to Jack. Then she saw Deputy Lewis standing behind them. Her eyes darted past him to the room across the hall. The door stood halfway open. She looked back at the men, her skin tingling with alarm.
“Hello, Miss Ford.” The deputy smiled smugly.
“Miss Kristen Ford,” the sheriff began with an angry look. “We’re placin’ you under arrest.”
Kristen stared unseeing at the sheriff, wondering where Jack was, if they’d already arrested him. “And the charge is?” she managed to say.
“Horse stealin’, conspiracy, kidnappin’, jail-breakin’ — ”
“Jailbreaking?” Kristen interrupted. How could they accuse her of a crime she had yet to commit?
“Young lady,” the mayor said, “you and Jack Parrish have made fools out of this town. Unfortunately the Parrish gang got away, but we intend to make an example of you.”
Kristen felt her knees sag. “The gang got away?” she asked, trying not to panic. “The entire gang?”
She heard Lewis’s mocking laugh. “That’s right, Miss Ford, even your precious Jack. He left you high and dry. I told you he wasn’t worth this kinda trouble.”
Kristen struggled to understand. Maybe the deputy was lying. But these men had no reason to lie to her. The painful truth blindsided her heart. Jack had abandoned her, but that was the least of his crimes. Not only had he left her behind, he’d handed her to the sheriff on a silver platter by freeing Deputy Lewis. The deceitful son of a bitch had thrown her to the wolves.
Tears burned Kristen’s eyes at the fool she’d made of herself fawning over such a faithless bastard. He had made love to her, made her feel things she’d never felt before. But it had all been a lie, a way for him to throw her off balance so he could creep out of town while she lay nestled in the bed he’d put her in. Kristen felt her stomach turn.
“If you cooperate, things could go a lot easier for you, ma’am,” the sheriff said.
Kristen flinched at the pity she saw on the sheriff’s face and knew now why Jack hated sympathy so much. It left one with a distinct feeling of inferiority. Kristen found her voice. “What do you mean, cooperate?”
“Tell us where the gang was headed.”
For a brief, fleeting moment Kristen was tempted. It would have been so easy to say, “Utah. They’re headed straight for Utah.” But she couldn’t do it. No matter what Jack had done to her, she couldn’t turn on him as he had on her. “I don’t know,” she finally whispered.
“I told you she wouldn’t tell,” Lewis spoke up. “She’s as stubborn and low-down mean as he is.”
Kristen chided herself for not having let Jack shoot Lewis as he’d wanted to. She looked the sheriff directly in the eye. “I don’t know where they went,” she repeated.
The sheriff nodded. “Turn around and put your hands against the wall, Miss Ford.”
Kristen knew the procedure well enough, although she’d never been on the receiving end of a weapons search. She pressed her hands against the wall and leaned her cheek against the blue, textured wallpaper.
“You understand,” the sheriff spoke again as he ran his hands over her hips and her legs beneath her skirt, “that you’re goin’ to jail, Miss Ford?”
“Yes,” she answered in a shaky voice.
“You understand that some of the crimes you’ll be tried for are hangin’ offenses?”
Focusing her eyes on the wall, Kristen prevented the tears from falling. She found she couldn’t answer verbally this time and had to resort to nodding her head.
The sheriff turned her around to face him. “We may be able to minimize the sentence if you’d only tell us what you know,” he prodded once more.
Kristen shook her head and managed to force out, “I don’t know anything.”
She was walked out of the hotel and down the street, Deputy Lewis’s gun trained on her at all times. People had already gotten word of what was taking place, and a few of them sneered and made vicious comments as she passed.
They couldn’t reach the jail soon enough for Kristen. But when they stepped inside, she was confronted with the knowledge that Jack had been there only hours before, betraying her in every sense of the word.
Lewis led her to a first cell in a room of four. He tossed her a rough woolen blanket and slammed the door shut on her freedom. “Settle yourself in, Miss Ford,” he said, sneering. “Circuit judge ain’t expected for at least another week.”
Shutting the door to the outer office, he left her with only the silent room around her and the emptiness in her heart. “Jack Parrish,” she whispered. “You blackhearted bastard.” And then she screamed, “You goddamned, blackhearted bastard!”
She heard Lewis’s amused laughter from the other room and buried her face in her hands. She finally let the tears slip silently through her open fingers.
Jack pushed back his hat. Using his sleeve, he wiped the sweat and dirt clinging to his forehead. He sat on his horse beside Bobby and watched his brother approach, riding through the knee-deep river.
Hank smiled and waved with all the eagerness of a boy come home from war. “Hot as hell, ain’t it?” he called to Jack.
Jack waited for him to forge the river before asking the questions he’d been agonizing over for close to a week. “Did everything go as planned?”
Hank paused, looking offended at his brother’s suspicion. “Everything went exactly as I planned. You worry too much, Jack. Miss Ford has been very well taken care of.”
Jack remained skeptical. “She didn’t give you any trouble?”
“Not at all.”
“What did you do, Hank, tie her up and gag her? I know damn well she wouldn’t go along that peacefully.”
Hank shook his head. “So much grief over a woman, Jack. A woman.” He said the word with distaste. “Why, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were in love with her.”
For the second time in a week Jack felt the urge to strangle his brother. It wasn’t anybody’s business what he felt for Kristen, and if he did care to discuss it, which he didn’t, it certainly wouldn’t be with Hank, a man who openly despised her. “Just tell me you put her on the train.”
“All right. I put her on the train. Now, I’m anxious to get back to work. Whatcha got planned?”
Jack stared at him, tempted for a moment to vent his hostility, before responding, “Bobby’s got a line on a stage coming through to Las Vegas.”
Bobby joined the conversation. “And she’s plumb packed with pretty bags o’ gold. She was made for us, Hank. Me and Jack got it all figured out.”
Jack watched his brother ride off with Bobby toward their camp, Bobby chattering on about the plan to rob the stage the next day. He looked back in the direction from which Hank had come, wondering if Kristen really had walked away so easily. Despite how much Hank disliked her, Jack knew his brother didn’t have it in him to kill a woman, and since she hadn’t ridden out with him, she must have peacefully boarded the train.
Truth be told, Jack had half expected her to ride into camp alongside his brother. He’d felt a keen sense of disappointment that she hadn’t.
It was all for the best, though, Jack knew for sure. For the last week he’d done nothing but think about her, dream about her, long for her. Either he was one frog short of the pond or more in love with her than he or Hank realized. Anyway, he knew he’d done the right thing by leaving Kristen behind. His life was no life for her — always on the move, suspicious of everyone, constantly looking over his shoulder. Kristen deserved better than that.
Digging into his pocket, he took out the prize he’d stolen from her purse the night he left. He’d been searching for a remembrance, something that would bring Kristen to mind at only a glance. Upon discovery of her likeness captured in astonishingly vivid color, Jack had known that no matter how precious it might have been to her, he’d had to have it.
Looking at the photograph now, Jack still found its brilliant colors amazing, inconceivably capturing Kristen’s golden fall of hair beneath the dark, flat hat she wore, the rich ivory and peach tones of her smooth complexion, the deep blue color of her clothing. The large silver brooch pinned to her chest glowed so brightly it seemed he could reach out and feel the cool metal.
And the miniature American flag Kristen stood so proudly beside? Jack could make out every one of its white stars. He counted them every night by firelight, and no matter how often he checked, the number of the stars never changed. Fifty. Fifty stars . . . in a photograph that had somehow captured all the colors of the rainbow.
On the back of the picture were inscribed the words Officer Kristen Ford. He turned over the picture and read them again for perhaps the hundredth time, rubbing his thumb against the neat feminine writing he assumed was Kristen’s. But what had truly captivated Jack was the date written below her name: July 11, 1990.
Kristen shifted on her cot, trying to cover her feet with the small, ragged blanket. She drew her knees up to her chest and let the shivers race through her, trying to tell herself she was warmer than she actually felt.
Her trial was only a day away, and still the Guide hadn’t come. She’d called to the woman endlessly, day and night for a week. She had spent hours begging whoever could hear her to please send her back to her own time, telling them she’d tried to instigate some kind of morality in Jack Parrish, some kind of integrity, but the man had been too far gone by the time she’d met him. In fact, she’d given her whole self to the task of bringing Jack into the realm of the civilized, more than could have been expected of her. What more could they ask of her? What more could they want?
The townspeople were building a gallows for her in the field behind the jail, so sure were they that she would hang. She watched them toil daily over it from her tiny barred window, carefully fitting and nailing each board into its proper place as though they were building a sacred temple, not an instrument of death.
They came to her window on a regular basis to berate her, taunt her, and sometimes, as in the case of Emily Collins, to offer her comfort in the face of her “impending doom.” Kristen couldn’t really blame any of them for what they planned. After all, she had done the things she was accused of: she had stolen the deputy’s horse; she had aided and abetted Jack Parrish, a known fugitive; she had conspired with him to free Hank Parrish and Bobby Grant; and she had kidnapped an officer of the law.
No, the only person Kristen blamed was herself, for having faith in Jack, for believing that a lifelong criminal could change, for being stupid enough to fall in love with him before he’d proven himself to her. She decided that if she ever got back to the twentieth century, she was going to write a book: Men Who Are Innately Corrupt and the Irrational Women Who Trust Them. If she ever got back . . . Right now that option was looking very unlikely.
Pulling her legs tighter against her body, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep. Images of her days with Jack floated through her mind. As always, she tried to find a sign she might have missed — something he’d said, something he’d done, something that should have warned her of his deceit. But nothing came to mind except his distance from her the day before he’d left, the distance she had chalked up to embarrassment over something Hank might have said to him.
Tears dampened her eyes when she remembered how tenderly Jack had loved her that last night, how gently he’d coaxed her to fulfillment. That was the night he’d shown her what a giving heart he had. And then, the very next day, he’d shattered all her foolish delusions.
Kristen dabbed her eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry over Jack anymore, that she would devote her energy to trying to figure a way out of this mess. Now here it was, the night before her trial, and she had yet to come up with any sound ideas. She could always lie, perjure herself, and say she hadn’t known who Jack Parrish really was, hadn’t realized the ultimate goal of his scheme had been to break people out of jail. But the most heinous of her crimes, in the eyes of the law, was the horse stealing and the kidnapping. And Deputy Lewis was a highly reliable witness for the prosecution. No amount of lying was going to get her out of those misdeeds.
Kristen’s skin crawled just at the thought of Deputy Lewis. He had been given sole care of her during her stay in the jail and had availed himself of every opportunity to torment her. He had fed her, but only after she’d gone hungry for a while, and only after the food had become cold and unappetizing. He had kept her company, not for her entertainment but for his own. His jokes were disgusting, his sexual advances laughable.
One day he waltzed in with her purse slung over his arm, and Kristen went stone cold. He sat himself down in the chair he kept just outside her cell and began a thorough examination of her belongings. He set aside her keys, along with a small package of tissues and a bottle of Advil, which he shook but couldn’t get open. He dropped her brush and hair elastics to the ground. A half-eaten bag of M&M’s he sniffed and stuffed into his shirt pocket. He lifted out her spare underwear, held it up, and pulled on the elastic waist, leering at her suggestively. When that didn’t get a rise out of her, he took out her gun.
Kristen came to full attention at this point. A hope for her escape rested in the fingers of her jailor, if only she could get her hands on the weapon. “Be careful with that,” she said.
He laughed her off, turning the weapon all around to examine it. “How do you load this thing?” he asked.
But Kristen wasn’t giving him any answers. She knew the gun was on safety, unless Lewis took to flipping switches. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be going off accidentally.
Then he found the switch. “What’s this do?”
“Why don’t you point the gun at your head and find out?” She could only hope that he’d be stupid enough to come into the cell with it to get her to show him.
But with a glare, Lewis flipped off the safety switch, pointed the gun at the ceiling, and fired. It was a blast to wake the dead, and old plaster and timber fell all around him. “Whoa!” he shouted through the rubble, staring with renewed awe at the weapon in his hands. Then he tucked the gun into the front pocket of his pants. “I’m keepin’ this baby.”
When the sheriff burst in, wondering at all the noise, Lewis passed it off as a ploy to get Kristen’s attention. Her hopes sagged when the deputy left the room, her only means of escape tucked where her hands would never roam to retrieve it.
At least now Deputy Lewis would spend his time patching the hole in the roof instead of harassing his captive. Kristen laughed at the justice of that and wondered if she could hope to have him occupied at least till the end of the trial. Then she remembered the gallows. Her throat spasmed at the thought.
“Guide lady?” she whispered into the still, dark cell. “Am I going to die here?”
Jack crouched low behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, his red kerchief pulled up over his face, his gun ready in his hand. He checked his pocket watch. It was half past two. Wells Fargo, being the stickler for punctuality it was, should be hurrying toward them any minute now. Bobby and Hank were on the other side of the road, spaced far enough apart to cover both the front and rear of the stage once Jack had stopped it. The stage would hit the steep grade and slow to a crawl. Once it gained the top of the hill, Jack’s job was to jump out in front of it, take the lead horse’s reins, and bring the stage to a halt.
Normally the thought of such a dangerous task was exhilarating, but Jack hadn’t even broken into a nervous sweat. He’d known from the moment he’d woken up that morning and heard Hank and Bobby talking excitedly about the robbery that his heart just wasn’t in this job. Gone was the thrill he felt while planning a holdup, gone was the sense of power he felt in taking from others what they may have spent a lifetime earning, gone were his feelings of vengeful justice and sadistic pride. All that remained was a bad taste in his mouth, and the wonder at when his attitude had changed.
Kristen had once asked why he did what he did. Jack had answered honestly: because he enjoyed it. But now he actually felt sick at the thought of stopping the stage. He could be shot, or even killed. And then he’d never have a hope of seeing Kristen again.
Jack leaned back against the tree, staring up at the branches shielding him from the hot sun, wondering what he’d done with his life. He’d stolen, made enemies, killed at times. His life was like a runaway stage, heading with gathering speed for a deep ravine. He knew that if he didn’t pull up on the reins soon, there’d be no stopping before the inevitable plunge.
He heard the Wells Fargo coming toward the incline.
He saw the dust it made, rising up, a brown cloud floating to the sky.
He heard the axles creak as the horses struggled up the hill.
Suddenly Jack wasn’t sure what to do. He felt the weight of his mortality pushing hard on his chest. If he died here today, he would never see Kristen again. He understood, with a jolt of feeling, that he did want to see her again. He wanted her to smile at him, to argue with him, to flash her gray eyes at him and accept his kisses like a woman starved for his touch. He wanted to wrap himself up in her and let her chase away all his monsters. But the life of a road agent’s woman was no life for Kristen Ford.
By the time the first two horses of the four had gained the top of the hill, Jack had made his choice. A future with Kristen was worth more than all the gold in the world. Sitting quietly in the brush, he let the stage roll by, satisfied that he’d done the right thing for the first time in his life.
But Hank wasn’t so inclined. He jumped from behind his sheltering boulder and rushed to stop the stage. Jack swore from between clenched teeth, knowing he had no choice now but to aid his bother in the holdup, or they could all end up in jail this time.
Coming out from behind the tree, Jack cast his brother a murderous glare and pointed his rifle at the stage driver. “Throw down the box.”
The man complied, reaching beneath his seat for the Wells Fargo treasure box.
Bobby stepped up behind the stage and checked the rear boot. “Boot’s empty,” he called.
Hank strode to the door of the stage and held his brown hat next to the window. “Care to contribute to the length of your lives?” he asked loudly enough for all inside to hear. Hands appeared instantly, dropping valuables into the waiting hat.
Meanwhile Jack had the treasure box. He lifted the steel bar from his back pocket and pried open the lid. Resting in the bottom of the trunk were three full bags of gold powder, easily five thousand dollars’ worth. Staring down at the fortune before his eyes, he wondered how hard a man had to work to mine so much money.
Hank scurried up next to him and whooped with joy at the sight of their good luck. “We hit the jackpot, Bobby ol’ buddy,” he cried. He gave Jack a slap on the back. “I thought you’d run out on us for a minute there, brother.”
Jack raised a cold gaze to his brother. “Let ‘em ride, Bobby,” he called out.
Putting the reins to the four horses, the driver did his best to hurry the stage up the rest of the hill.
Bobby sauntered across the road toward Jack and Hank and gave his customary holler of relief. He was brought up short by the sight of not one, but three bags of gold. “Holy Mother of God,” Bobby whispered. He pulled the bandanna off his face. “We’re rich!” he shouted. “We’re rich!”
While Hank and Bobby did a jig in the middle of the road Jack pulled down his own bandanna and lifted the bags from the box. “One for each saddle,” he said darkly, and threw each of the men a bag. “Now you can count me out.”
Hank stopped cold and turned to stare in shock at his brother. “Count you out?” His eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, Jack?”
“I’m talkin’ about livin’ past the age of thirty,” Jack answered. “I’m talkin’ about makin’ somethin’ out of my life before I go feet up in some ditch, or worse yet, feet down in some gallows.”
“No. No, you’re not.” Hank marched toward him. “You’re talking about quittin’! Quittin’ on me. Quittin’ on Bobby. Pa always said there wasn’t nothin’ worse than a quitter.”
Jack clenched his hands to his sides. “Pa never said that, Hank,” he said in a low voice. “Pa visited us three, maybe four times in our whole lives. He wouldn’t have paused long enough to say that much.”
Hank moved in, inches from Jack’s face. “You callin’ me a liar?”
Jack stared his brother down. “I’m callin’ you a man with a bad memory.”
“Well, I’m callin’ you a traitor.”
“A man’s gotta go his own way sometime, Hank. I figure my time’s now.”
“Is she worth it, Jack?” Hank sneered. “Is she worth your life, your brother, your promise to our dyin’ ma?”
There was a moment of strained silence, and then Jack turned and walked toward his horse hidden in the trees.
Hank hurried along behind him. “Tell me, Jack!” he yelled. “I gotta know what it took to turn you against your own kin.”
Not in the mood for a confrontation, especially with a brother he might never see again, Jack ignored Hank as best he could. He stuffed the gold into his saddlebags, determined not to falter in his decision.
“Was it her flowery smell?” Hank persisted. “Her soft voice?”
Jack lifted a stirrup and checked the cinch on his saddle.
“Maybe it was the way she rode.”
Jack felt his back stiffen. His head came up, and he steeled himself for what was sure to come.
“Was that it, Jack? Did ya turn against your family ‘cause of the way some whore rode you?”
With a lurch, Jack sent his fist into Hank’s nose. Hank stumbled back. At first shocked, he wiped at his bleeding face, but then an expression of fury rose up in his eyes. “Is this how you keep a promise, Jack? By hittin’ me and then leavin’ me high and dry!”
His heart hammering, Jack pointed a finger at his brother. “That promise was made twenty years ago!” he shouted. “I promised Ma I’d look out for you, take care of you, protect you ‘cause you were only a little kid. But you’re a big boy now, Hank. You can screw your life up all by yourself!”
The two of them stood breathing hard. Then Hank smiled. “All right. Go ahead. Go to her.”
“I’m not doin’ this for her, Hank. I’m doin’ this for me.”
“Right,” Hank said. “Only you won’t find her in San Francisco.”
A keen sense of dread gripped Jack. In two long strides he had his brother by the throat. “I trusted you,” he growled into Hank’s face. “You swore to me you put her on that train!”
“No.” Hank struggled out, still smiling. “You asked me to tell you I put her on that train.”
“Where is she?” Jack tightened his grip. “Where?”
Hank made a gurgling sound before replying, “I . . . I left her in Volcano.”
With a stunned stare, Jack shoved Hank away from him. Dear God. He’d left her there? In Volcano? By now their entire scheme would have been uncovered. “I’ve gotta get to her.”
“It’s too late,” Hank said with a grin. “You see, I left Kristen there, but I also released the fine deputy. Like you asked me to.”
With a roar, Jack hit Hank again, this time in the stomach, sending his brother down to his knees in the dirt.
On the ground, Hank struggled to fill his lungs. “I thought . . . it’s what you’d want when you finally came to your senses,” he gasped. “Once you realized what a burden she was. Look what she’s done. She’s turned you against your own family!”
Jack stared down at his brother. “You did it for me? Is that your excuse, Hank?” He kicked him in the ribs. “You didn’t do it for me, you did it for yourself! Just like you do everything else.”
Jack straightened, regaining some semblance of his control. “Our pa was a murderin’, cheatin’, thievin’ son of a bitch.” He pointed a finger at his brother. “You can do whatever you want, but I’m not spendin’ another day of my life livin’ like him.”
Leaving Hank curled on the ground and Bobby staring with his mouth open, Jack strode away and swung up onto his horse. “Don’t cross my path in the future, brother. There’s a reward out for you, one I won’t be reluctant to collect.”
Riding hard, Jack took two days to reach Volcano — two days and one horse, as his mount collapsed from overexertion a mile outside of town. He walked the rest of the way, his saddlebags and shotgun slung over his shoulders.
The sun had not yet crested the horizon when he headed straight for the livery on the edge of town. Stepping in through the backdoor, he had no problem overpowering the young lad caring for the stabled horses. With one arm around the boy’s neck, he whispered, “I need two mounts. You gonna give me trouble about it?”
“N-no, sir,” the boy stammered. “H-help yourself.”
With a thick piece of hemp, Jack tied the boy’s hands and feet together, laid him facefirst in a pile of straw, and went about saddling the two best horses he could find. “Tell me about the latest news in Volcano, boy.”
“Y-you mean about the hangin’?” the boy squeaked.
Jack’s heart dropped down to his boots. He turned directly to the boy. “Tell me about the hangin’.”
“Well, they say she’s a hard-hearted, murderin’ witch, that never — ”
“She?”
“Yes, sir, a — a woman. The first to be hung in these parts, I suppose. But it’s like my pa says, if you do the vice you pay the price, no matter if you’re a man or a woman.”
“Your pa’s a wise man.” Jack turned back to cinching the saddles. “And when’s this woman to pay the price?”
“Today, this very dawn, sir.”
Jack paused to glance out the window. The sun was still not yet up. With steady intent, he worked his fingers faster at the saddle. “And you’re not attendin’ the hangin’?”
“The whole town’s out behind the jail. Pa included. Somebody had to stay and mind the livery.” The boy sniffled. “He’s gonna beat me green when he finds out I lost two of his best horses.”
Jack swung up into the saddle of the Appaloosa, tying the reins of the sorrel mare to his horn. He was about to give his mount a kick, but at the last moment he reached back into his saddlebags and tossed the bag of gold dust into the straw in front of the boy’s tear-streaked face. “That oughta pay for any inconvenience caused your pa.”
The street was deathly quiet. The boy was right; the whole town was probably at that moment poised around a gallows, waiting breathlessly to watch a woman hang. Fighting the urge to race through town to the jail house, Jack maneuvered his mount cautiously, heading in a direct path to the place he hoped to find Kristen still alive. As the sun sprayed its first rays through the sky, he told himself she had to be alive.
His hope lagged as he approached the jail house. Not a single guard stood posted outside, a sign that might mean there was no longer a prisoner to guard. He tethered the two horses quietly and peered down the narrow alleyway at the crowd of people gathered in the distance. Unholstering his gun, he moved forward, his boots thudding softly on the boardwalk. He stepped up and turned the knob on the jail-house door.
For once, the sight of Lewis was a welcome sight indeed. If the deputy was still guarding the jail, then Kristen surely had to be in a cell in the back.
Lewis stared in shock for a moment before opening his mouth to yell. “One sound,” Jack said, “and I’ll blow your head clean off.”
The deputy’s lips clamped shut.
“Hand me your gun.”
Lewis slid the pistol out of his holster and handed it to Jack.
“Now the keys.”
When Jack had the keys in his hand, he flashed the deputy a merry smile. “Only one guard for the prisoner, Deputy?”
“We didn’t think you’d come back for her, Parrish.”
“You underestimate people an awful lot, Lewis.” Jack pushed the man back into a chair and pulled another piece of rope from his pocket. He didn’t have enough to bind him securely, so he tied Lewis’s hands to a desk leg and hoped it would hold the man just long enough for him to get Kristen out. “Just like old times, eh, Lewis?”
Jack crossed the room, slipped the proper key into the jailroom door, and pulled it open. Kristen stood at the window of her cell with her back to him, staring out at the fate she believed awaited her.
“You’re late, Lewis,” she said without turning around. “And don’t think I’ll walk bravely from this cell. You’re going to have to drag me kicking and screaming the whole way.”
“You mean I have to get the horses, get the keys, and carry you from the jail?”
Kristen spun around to face him, her golden hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked at him with tears brimming on her lashes, and with a tremble to her lower lip she said his name.
It was only a statement, not the cry of joy Jack had expected. He stuck the key in her cell door and pushed it open. When she didn’t move toward him, he said, “I don’t really have to drag you out of here, do I? You aren’t one of those strange people who get accustomed to prison and are afraid to be let out?”
She stood there staring at him, with an expression he couldn’t identify. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“Kristen?” he said softly. “We really don’t have a lot of time.”
She moved toward him then, brushing past him with an air of indifference that raked his heart. He followed her out of the jailroom. Then she stopped short, and he bumped into her back. Lewis sat crouched in the same awkward position he’d been left in at the desk, but he had one of his hands free, and in it rested Kristen’s unusual gun.
“Where’d he get that?”
“He took it from my purse.”
“Stealing from a woman? Deputy, that’s appallin’.”
“It’s a lot more decent than what you did to her, Parrish.”
Still holding his own gun, Jack nodded. “I suppose so.” He pointed his gun at Lewis. “So what do you think? Who should fire first?”
With a knowing grin, Lewis aimed his gun at Kristen. Jack’s smile faded. “First the lovely Miss Ford is gonna walk around here, nice and slow, and untie me. Then we’re goin’ to a double hangin’.”
Jack started to step in front of Kristen, but she gave him a sharp poke with her elbow. “Move,” she said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You’ll back off, Parrish. Unless you want her to die right now.”
Reluctantly Jack let Kristen pass. She moved around the desk and bent to release the deputy from the rope still binding his hand to the desk leg. Once free, Lewis sat up in his chair and leered at her. “You’ve become very compliant during your stay here, Miss Ford. Now, shall we go?”
Lewis attempted to stand, but Kristen stepped in between the desk and his legs and prevented him from rising. His chair pressed against the wall, his only hope for escape was to climb out of it, but Lewis had too much pride to do that.
Jack’s heart leaped as Lewis leveled the gun at Kristen’s face. “Might I suggest you move, Miss Ford,” he said in a low, threatening voice.
The deputy’s finger hovered on the trigger, but Kristen stood her ground. “Suggest all you want.” She raised a hand and pressed her open palm against the barrel of the gun. Jack let out a cry of alarm, rushing toward the pair just as Lewis pulled back the trigger.
Click.
That was the only sound Jack heard. He opened his eyes and saw Deputy Lewis looking very perturbed and Kristen looking very smug.
“Damn thing’s empty!” Lewis cried. He attempted to pull the trigger again while Kristen continued to press her hand against the muzzle. Finally Lewis gave up, and Kristen snatched the gun from his hand.
Jack stepped forward and, with one solid punch to the jaw, knocked Lewis back cold in the chair. He took the man by the back of his shirt and dragged him into a cell. He slammed the cell door and paused to catch his breath, then he walked back to Kristen.
“You ever do somethin’ like that again and I’ll beat the livin’ daylights out of you. What if that gun hadn’t been empty?”
“It wasn’t.”
“What?”
“I pressed my hand against the slide and disabled the firing mechanism. Basic academy training.”
The way Kristen proclaimed that, Jack half believed her. He shook his head in amazement. “You are the damnedest woman.”
Kristen gave him an uninterested gaze. “Can I assume you have a horse out there for me?”
Jack crossed his arms, growing irritated with her coldness. “Yes.”
“Good.” She moved to the door. “Then I’ll be leaving.”
Jack hurried after her, took her by the arm, and spun her around to face him. “There’s a whole town crowded behind this building, Miss Ford. One loud noise, one distraction, and we’re both dead.”
Kristen threw off his hold. “I’ve proven myself to be a lot of things recently, Mr. Parrish, but inept isn’t one of them.”
Jack looked into her bitter face and wondered if she would ever forgive him for the mess he’d made. “If you have something to say to me, then maybe we should get it over with,” he finally said.
Kristen raised her brows, indicating she hadn’t a single thing to say. “Thank you for breaking me out. It’s been nice knowing you.”
She turned the knob. Jack flattened his hand against the door, preventing her from opening it. “We leave together, if I have to drag you out of here, kicking and screaming.”
Kristen hesitated. Jack held his breath, waiting for her response, knowing they had very little time before someone arrived at the jail to see what was taking so long for the prisoner to be escorted out. “I want you to show me the way to San Francisco,” she finally said. “And then I want you to drop off the face of the earth.”
Jack held back a flinch. “That won’t be a problem. Shall we go quietly?”
She nodded.
He let her ease open the door and then led her to their horses.
As soundlessly as possible, they picked their way through town, carefully watching for anyone out roaming the streets, but the town stood empty and quiet, other than the occasional bark of a stray dog.
By the time they reached the livery, Jack was beginning to feel a spark of self-respect. When they broke their horses into a fast run, he knew that for the first time since he could remember, he was firmly in control of his own destiny.
They rode in silence for hours. The tension was creating an ache in the small of Kristen’s back. She kept her face emotionless and her eyes forward, telling herself she didn’t care if Jack cast her anxious glances and seemed impatient for her to say something.
She didn’t know why he’d come — perhaps out of a sense of indebtedness, or maybe even guilt. Either way she wasn’t interested in his apology. She’d had faith in Jack Parrish once, she’d taken him at his word, and she’d learned the hard way that she had been a blind, trusting fool.
They rode west, toward the mountains, until the sun hung low in the sky and Kristen couldn’t keep herself seated in the saddle a moment longer. Before she could voice her misery, Jack pulled up and dismounted.
“We’ll make camp here for the night.”
“I think we should ride until we reach Frisco,” Kristen said, practically slurring her words. She was too groggy to keep her eyes open. She had been awake the entire night before, making peace with herself and her coming death.
Jack swung down from his horse. “Kristen, Frisco, as you put it, is a four-day ride at best. You’re barely stayin’ in the saddle.” He reached up to her. “Come on, it’s gettin’ dark. I’ll build us a fire.”
Despite her hatred for the man, Kristen couldn’t resist his strong arms. She tipped into him, falling against the firmness of Jack’s chest, and was asleep in an instant.
Later she awoke to the sound of a crackling fire and felt Jack’s long duster bound tightly around her. He sat next to her, prodding at the flames with a short stick. Without even looking at her, he said, “You slept for a few hours. Are you up to eatin’?”
Kristen eased up, stiffly, onto her elbow. “That depends on if you’re serving prime rib or beans.”
The side of his mouth turned upward into a smile. “How do you feel about bunnies?”
Rubbing her eyes, Kristen made a face. “Bunnies?”
“Yeah. You know, those grayish fluffy things with long ears, little pink noses, bobbing tails.”
Kristen’s stomach turned. “You cooked a bunny?”
Jack’s smile grew until it crinkled his eyes. “Nope,” he drawled. “But I bet beans sound pretty good now.”
Sinking back to the ground, Kristen rolled her eyes.
“So, where are Hank and Bobby?” she asked, after being handed a tin plate of Jack’s famous beans.
Jack shrugged. “Arizona, I s’pose.”
“Not in jail, I hope.”
Jack shook his head and laughed softly. “Not that I know of.”
She ate a few bites of food and then said, “You might have told me you were leaving. At least then I could have made plans for myself.”
Jack poked at the fire some more. “I know.”
“They almost hanged me.” Kristen felt tears burn at her sinuses, but she pushed them down with all her might. She wasn’t about to let Jack see how badly his abandonment had affected her.
“I know.”
“I was taken to trial. The town called me names you wouldn’t believe.” She tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow. “It was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
Jack turned to her. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”
“Sorry?” Kristen gave him a frigid look. “Aren’t you the one who says pity’s as useful as a bellyful of sand? Well, I don’t need your pity, Jack Parrish, any more than you ever needed mine.” She lowered her head, not caring that Jack had flinched at the bite of her words.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, Kristen,” he whispered.
“No. You probably hoped they’d hang me before you rode gallantly into town. God, you’re rich, pal, rich on insincerity.”
Jack stood and walked toward a pile of wood he’d gathered. He came back with another log, which he tossed into the flames, producing a burst of sparks. “You always knew the kind of man I was, Kristen. I never lied to you about that.”
Kristen narrowed her eyes. “I took you for a man of your word. You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
Jack looked directly at her. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave you there, in Volcano. And in my mind I didn’t.”
“Then one of us is mistaken, pal, ‘cause in my mind, not only was I left, I was jailed and tried!”
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t take you with me, Kristen. I’d be lookin’ out for you, you’d be lookin’ out for me. We’d both end up gettin’ ourselves killed.”
Kristen nodded in mock understanding. “So you decided to just get me killed and be done with the whole thing. I understand perfectly now.”
“I wanted you safely in San Francisco. I asked Hank to take you to Cottonwoods and put you on a train.”
Kristen was reluctant to hear Jack’s side of the story, afraid of being misled once again, but she waited for him to finish his tale so she could rip it all to pieces.
“Instead,” he went on, “Hank left you in Volcano and set the deputy free.” He turned to her with a pleading look. “I had no idea what he’d done. I made him swear to me that he’d taken care of you, that he’d put you on that train.”
“I guess broken promises run in the family.”
Jack let out a hopeless laugh and shook his head. “I had a feeling you’d doubt me. And an even stronger one that you’d never forgive me.”
Kristen nodded coldly. “Go with your gut on that one, Jack.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Well, that’s a load off.”
“And I don’t have any way of convincing you either.”
“If I didn’t know it with my own two eyes, you couldn’t convince me the sky was blue.”
Tossing another stick on the fire, Jack stood and brushed his hands on his pants. “I’ll see you to San Francisco, Miss Ford, then I’ll leave you to yourself. I’ll keep watch over the horses tonight. Get some sleep.”
Kristen watched him walk out of the circle of firelight. The temptation to believe his story tugged at her heart. She’d always believed in the goodness of people, always thought there was charity in the heart of every man, until Jack had proven her wrong.
He turned to her one last time in the darkness. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
Kristen’s eyes pooled with tears she hoped he couldn’t see. “For what?” she asked in a strained voice.
“For having the courage to believe in me once, whether I deserved it or not.”
The next morning came too early. Kristen opened her eyes and stared up at Jack. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept any better than she had. She took the strip of jerky he offered her and sat up from the hard ground to chew on it.
“We’ll be ridin’ hard today,” he said. “You might wanna keep your gun handy.”
“Why?”
“By now word’s gotten out. The whole area’s sure to be swarmin’ with posses lookin’ for the two of us. You’ll stick close, and run if I say run.”
“Will I?”
Jack gave her a hard look. “Yes, Miss Ford, you will. You will do exactly as I say, or I won’t be takin’ you anywhere.”
He had her on that one, Kristen decided. She certainly couldn’t force him to show her the way to San Francisco.
“And how can I be sure you’re not just showing me to the edge of a cliff?”
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Forgive me if I don’t.”
She stood and dusted off her long skirt. Jack walked away, and she fought the urge to run after him. After what she’d been through, she needed to be held, to be kissed. What she needed was the Jack she used to believe in, not the Jack who had betrayed her.
They mounted, side by side, and rode off with the early-morning sun on their backs.
Two hours later they climbed to the top of a rise and saw a posse heading toward them in the distance. Kristen’s heart pounded. The thought of being dragged back to Volcano to hang made her almost frantic with the desire to flee.
“Why are you just sitting there?” she demanded. “Let’s get out of here!”
Before she could turn and run, Jack took hold of her horse’s bridle. “Let’s wait and see which way they head.”
He climbed down from his mount, and she stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“I’ll tell you which way they’re headed, they’re headed directly for me! Now, you get back on that horse and get me the hell out of here!”
Jack grabbed her around the waist and hauled her down next to him. “I know what I’m doin’.”
She pushed away from him. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He pointed to the ground. “Get down and keep low.”
“I’m not going to crouch in the dirt and wait for my hangmen,” she said, her jaw clenched. “And if you think I will, then you’re a couple cookies short of the jar!”
“I said get down!” He pushed down on her head.
Kristen was forced to the ground at his feet. To make matters worse, he stood on her skirt so she couldn’t get back up. She knelt there, glaring at his boots, wishing she could kill him almost as much as hoping the posse wouldn’t find them.
She heard at least ten horses clamoring below her, and she held her breath, waiting for the triumphant shout that would mean she and Jack had been discovered. It never came. The sound of the horses grew distant and faint. She stole a peek up at Jack.
He stood over her, his shotgun poised, his eyes narrowed. She’d never seen him look so dangerous, almost proprietary. He lifted his foot and she stood, looking down at the small hole his heel had made in her gray skirt.
“This is going to be destroyed by the time I get to San Francisco.”
“You hate wearin’ those things anyway.”
What she hated was that he knew her so well. “Jack, I’d like to ride into San Francisco looking halfway decent.”
He shook his head and smiled. “You’re always hopin’ for the moon.”
Fighting the urge to slug him, she walked toward her horse. “Can we go now? Which way did that posse head?”
Jack mounted up beside her. “North. Toward Carson.”
“So?”
“So we keep goin’ west.” He pointed toward the mountains beyond. “Up and over.”
They didn’t stop for the rest of the day. The sun beat hard on her face as it rose higher. At one point Jack offered her his hat. When she refused, he crammed it down onto her head and threatened to strangle her if she took it off.
When darkness fell, they found an abandoned cave and made camp inside for the night. She sat huddled in Jack’s duster as he gathered wood from outside for a fire. She was tired and sore, and hungry for something besides jerky.
Watching him build the fire reminded her of the first camp they’d shared together outside of Volcano. It had been Jack who was distant then, pushing her away. She’d wanted him even then.
Now, it seemed, the tables had turned. She saw the hunger in his eyes every time he looked at her. She wasn’t stupid enough to satisfy his needs again, however. As far as she was concerned, he could lust till doomsday.
He came toward her and handed her a piece of jerky. She looked up at him in question. “Is this it?”
“Yup.”
“Not even any beans?”
“Nope.”
Kristen grimaced at the piece of dried, stringy meat in her fingers. “How many days did you say till Frisco?”
“I could always find you that bunny.”
“I’ll manage.” She took a bite.
He sat down next to her. “You warm enough?”
“Yes.”
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Need any water — ”
“Give it up, Jack,” she blurted. “All the kindness in the world isn’t going to get you into my bed again.”
He paused. “If you had a comfortable bed right now, you wouldn’t be able to keep me out of it, Kristen.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I suppose I do.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “But in that case, I wouldn’t bother with the kindness.”
Reminded of the rugged way he had made love to her, Kristen felt her stomach do a flip. “How could I forget your lack of manners?” Her voice sounded strained.
He leaned a little closer and whispered, “I could remind you.”
It took all her willpower to pull back from him.
Sighing, Jack looked away. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.”
“How can you say that? How can you say that I’m making things difficult when you ruined everything we had!”
Jack gave her a soft look. “You have to forget that — ”
“I don’t have to forget anything! To do that, I’d have to trust you again, and I never make the same mistake twice!”
She pulled his duster tightly around her and lay down on the soft cave floor. A few minutes later she heard him get up and move away from her. No, she couldn’t forget. If she forgot, she’d forgive, and then her heart would be laid open for Jack Parrish once again.
She lay awake through the night, unable to sleep. The fire went from hot flames to a pile of useless smoking coals. Nothing good ever seemed to last.
She had sensed such a connection between her and Jack, such a strong feeling of destiny. But, soul mate or not, Jack hadn’t felt it. Her integrity and honesty had not been enough to hold him. The plain truth was that he didn’t love her, and probably wasn’t capable of loving her the way she’d come to love him. She did still love him, she’d realized that when she’d turned to find him standing so proud and strong in her cell, the keys dangling from his fingertips. No matter what he’d done to her — lied, betrayed, endangered her very life — she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. But she couldn’t bring herself to trust him either.
Jack would see her to San Francisco, but then what? She had no family there, no job, no place to go at all, and over the course of the last week she’d come to the realization that the Guide had abandoned her completely. The only person she knew in the whole world was Jack. Her future seemed far less than promising.
The fire dwindled, and Kristen’s eyes began to resist her will to keep them open. With a fleeting thought of Jack sleeping out in the cold, she drifted toward sleep, but then the sound of a man’s voice jarred her back into full consciousness.
Jack was speaking to someone outside, although the voices were too far away for Kristen to make out what they were saying. A flash of dread seized her. What if it were Hank and Bobby? What if Jack was, at that very moment, saddling up to ride off with them again and leave her there, alone in the wilderness?
Kristen stood, pulled Jack’s duster tightly around her shoulders, and crept silently toward the mouth of the cave. She would hold Jack at gunpoint if that’s what it would take to make him see her safely into San Francisco. Damned if she was going to let him sneak out on her again!
Gaining the cave’s entrance, she stood in the shadows cast by the bright full moon and peered out at the three men standing with Jack. Straining her ears, she listened closely.
“We outsmarted ‘em, though,” a man with a thick beard and a dark coat was saying. “They banked on us followin’ the river down into the valley, but we headed for the mountains instead.” The three strangers laughed in unison and the bearded man added, “We didn’t figure you to be hidin’ this far north, Parrish. Normally you and Hank stick to south Nevada and Arizona.”
“Plans can change, Hydison,” Jack answered. “Hank and Bobby ran into a little trouble in Volcano.”
Hydison laughed. “Hank always was a hothead.” His face came up and looked toward where Kristen hid in the shadows. “Where is he anyway?”
“Inside, sleepin’ like a baby,” Jack said. “We pulled a job over the border a few days back. Been ridin’ like hell ever since.”
“I heard about that,” Hydison replied with interest. “Almost six thousand in gold dust. Wells Fargo ain’t too happy.”
“Makin’ Wells Fargo’s party list ain’t my aim in life,” Jack remarked with a hard edge to his voice.
Hydison laughed again, a laugh that was beginning to make Kristen nervous. For some reason, Jack had lied about Hank’s whereabouts, which made Kristen wonder if Hydison and his pals should be considered friend or foe.
Then Hydison stopped laughing. With all the grace of a slithering snake, he pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at Jack. “Let’s see it, Parrish.”
Kristen gripped the wall of the cave as Jack said with dark sarcasm, “I didn’t steal it to show it around to all my friends, Hydison. Besides, I don’t have it.”
Hydison and his two friends chuckled. “You expect us to believe you’ve been runnin’ hellbent for four days but took the time to stash three full bags of gold?”
“I gave it away.”
More laughter spilled forth from the three men.
Kristen looked wildly at the two horses tethered twenty feet away. Her gun was in the saddlebags on her mount. If only she could edge over there without being seen.
“What say we go wake up Hank and ask him where it is,” Hydison said. Kristen froze against the stone wall, her eyes darting about the empty cave for some place to hide.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Jack answered, “if you’re after a face full of buckshot. Hank sleeps with his shotgun for a pillow.”
“Then I reckon we’ll take what you got and be on our way.”
Kristen took a few careful steps toward the horses, aware that any second could bring the sound of Hydison’s gun being fired. She heard Jack’s deep laugh. “I’m tellin’ ya, Hydison, I gave the damn stuff away to a stable boy.”
A shot rang out against the mountains, echoing back a hollow response. She froze, then looked over at Jack. He was apparently uninjured.
“That was a warning, Parrish. The next one won’t go so wide.”
Kristen reached the horses and withdrew her gun from the bag hanging over the animal’s flank. At the intrusion, the horse nickered, and she was instantly the center of attention.
“Looky, Bill!” one of the men called. “It’s a woman.”
Kristen turned. Jack stared a hole clean through her, a look that told her in no uncertain terms how brainless he thought she was. She raised her gun. “He says he doesn’t have the gold, Hydison. Now how ‘bout if you leave.”
Hydison stared at her, looking speechless, then broke into laughter. “You know where it is, honey? How ‘bout you bring it over here to ol’ Billy. Then you and I can get down to some serious business.”
Taking her gun in a two-handed grip, Kristen sighted on Hydison. “My first shot won’t go wide.”
“Kristen,” Jack hissed. “Put down that goddamned thing and get your ass back in the cave!”
“And a mighty fine ass I bet it is.” Hydison snickered. “Kill her, Ted.”
The man on the right made a move for his gun, but Kristen redirected her aim and fired, dropping him before his gun cleared the holster. She shot the man on the left in the stomach, but he managed to get off a bullet that grazed her arm. She felt the burn clear to her neck.
She turned her attention to Bill Hydison, who stood in cold shock, still aiming his pistol at Jack. “Damn!” the man exclaimed. “You’re good, lady!” He leered. “But I’m better.”
Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Bill Hydison pointed his gun at her. She had him in her sights, but Jack jumped in front of the man just as his gun went off.
A dark stain spread across the back of Jack’s white shirt. Kristen heard the sound of her own scream. Jack fell to the ground, and she emptied her gun into Bill Hydison.
Her heart beating loudly in her ears, she ran to Jack. She fell to her knees beside him, crying out his name. His shirt was plastered with blood, and his face was pale in the bright moonlight. She fought another wrenching scream and prayed harder than she ever had in her life.
Jack opened his eyes. Staring at her through a watery mist, he swallowed hard and whispered her name.
Tears fell from Kristen’s eyes. She lifted his head and cradled him in her hands. “Jack, I’m sorry. I’m — ”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Are you . . . are you hurt?”
Kristen shook her head. She wasn’t going to worry him about a small nick on her arm. She brushed the hair off his forehead and noticed his skin growing cold. She felt a shiver race through him. She had to get him to a hospital before he bled to death. “Jack, where can I take you? Where is the nearest — ”
“I really did give the gold away, Kristen,” he interrupted in a raspy voice. “All I wanted . . . all I needed was you.”
Kristen nodded at his weak smile. Her tears continued to drip down, mixing with the blood on his shirt. “You’re gonna be okay.” She tried to smile back. “I’ll get help — ”
“I love you, Kristen.” One lone tear slipped from his eye and slid down his nose. “Forgive me. Please . . . please forgive me.”
Kristen’s chin quivered. She tried to find her voice. Of course she forgave him. How could she not? She loved him. More than anything in the world, she loved him.
Jack’s head rolled back heavily into her hands, and Kristen emitted a small whimper. She cried out his name, but his eyes flickered closed.
“I love you, too, Jack,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”
She took him by the shoulders and tried to get him to open his eyes. She shook him, determined to bring him around. “Don’t you leave me, you two-bit cowpoke! You hulking Neanderthal! Don’t you leave!”
Kristen fell over him in despair. Her eyes drifting closed, she embraced the blissful arms of unconsciousness.
Kristen found herself staring up at the ceiling of her apartment. She was lying on the living-room couch, and a jingle from a television ad was playing in the background.
She sat up and looked around the room. She was back in 1993. Everything looked the same as it had the night before she left.
“No.” Kristen shook her head. “It couldn’t have been a dream. I couldn’t have dreamed him!” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Jack,” she whispered.
It was then that she saw the blood, smeared all over her hands and the front of her shirt. “Oh, my God, it wasn’t a dream,” she whispered in horror.
“No.” A strangely familiar voice entered her consciousness with this single word.
“Give him back to me,” she pleaded.
“You’re dreaming, Miss Ford. This is simply your way of dealing with the tragedy you’ve witnessed. Open your eyes again, but this time open your mind as well.”
Kristen forced her eyes open. She was lying on a narrow bed, her feet propped up on pillows. There was the distant sound of voices, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol and ether. With a burst of fright, she tried to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there.
She moved to sit up, but the burning pain in her left arm sent her back to the hard bed with a gasp. She’d lost something . . . no, someone. Jack. Was he dead? Pain greater than the ache in her arm filled her heart, a loneliness vaster than anything she’d ever felt. A blinding, fresh batch of tears poured down her cheeks.
“Mrs. Ford? You’re awake then?”
Kristen looked up at a round-faced older man with thinning gray hair. Did she know him? He seemed to know her.
“Is that arm still hurting so badly?”
He expected a response, so Kristen gave him one. “No,” she whispered.
“Well, your husband’s about to shout down the rooftops he’s so worried about you, young lady.” The man smiled. “I was hoping you’d be awake and able to calm him down. He insisted I check on you before finishing his stitches.”
Kristen shook her head, confused. “I don’t have a hus — ”
“Krissstennn!” a booming voice shouted down the hall.
Kristen paled. “Jack?” she said, hardly daring to breathe. Was this yet another dream? She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and began to move slowly down the long hallway.
“Doctor! If you don’t bring me my wife, I’m gonna tear your heart out!”
Kristen stepped into the room at the end of the hall and stared in shock at the man in the bed. “Jack?”
His attention flew to her, and he broke into a relieved smile. “Kristen.” He sighed. “I wasn’t sure . . . they wouldn’t tell me how you were.”
“Jack!” Kristen cried, and rushed to his bed. “Jack, you’re alive! I saw blood everywhere — ”
Jack took her hand patiently. “Calm down. It’s only a little hole in the shoulder. The doc was able to get the bullet out.”
Tears filling her eyes, Kristen took his face in both of her hands and kissed every square inch of it. “You’re alive,” she interjected between kisses. “You’re alive.”
“Mrs. Ford, you are an apple short of the whole tree.” He laughed in obvious amusement.
Kristen leaned back and arched a brow. “Mrs. Ford?”
He shrugged. “The doctor wanted a name. When I told him I was Jack Ford, he just assumed you were my wife.”
“How did you get us here?” Kristen asked. She still couldn’t believe he was alive and lying next to her.
Jack looked confused. “I was going to ask you the same question.”
“But I didn’t — ”
“Okay, Mr. Ford.” The doctor walked in. “Are you satisfied with your wife’s health enough that we can finish this up? I have a broken bone to set in another room. Mrs. Ford, if you’ll wait outside.”
Reluctantly Kristen left Jack’s side. She kept her eyes on him as she backed slowly from the room, watching him through the glass of the door window to make sure he wouldn’t fade away. He gave her a broad grin and a wink.
She walked back to the room she’d been lying in when this whole bizarre scene had unfolded. She climbed back into the bed, still wondering what had happened. The last thing she recalled was holding Jack’s bloody body in her lap.
How had they gotten to a hospital? Where, in fact, were they?
For once, the Guide appeared in answer to her questions. Kristen looked up and saw her standing in the doorway.
Kristen shook her head and gave a little laugh. “You. I should have known. You did this. Brought us here. Saved Jack.”
The Guide smiled secretively. “I had a hand in it. But Jack saved himself.”
Kristen simply stared in confusion.
“He needed to redeem himself, prove that he deserved a second chance to have what he was denied when the two of you were sent to different time frames. By blocking the bullet meant for you, he placed your life before his own. Never before had he shown such selflessness, and we have you to thank for his rehabilitation, Miss Ford.”
“I don’t believe this,” was the only response Kristen could manage.
The woman folded her hands. “And now, if you’re ready, I’m prepared to fulfill my promise to you.”
“Your promise to me?”
“Yes. I’m surprised you’ve forgotten something that was so important to you only a few weeks ago. I’m prepared to send you home. All I need is your okay — ”
“No!” Kristen sat up and shouted. The little woman blanched. “I’m staying here. And don’t you dare zap me out like you did the last time!”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, positively, definitely. I want to stay here in 1890 with Jack.”
“All right, all right. You needn’t be so adamant. Truth be told, I never for a moment thought you’d agree to going back once it was all done and finished. They never do.”
“They don’t?”
“No. You all go through a period of re-orientation, but in the end you always decide that together is where you belong.” The woman checked her watch. “In fact, I should be getting back to a few of those others now.” The Guide rolled her eyes. “I’m working with a pair now that could make Solomon lose patience.”
Kristen laughed. “Well, I’m sure they’ll see reason soon enough.”
The Guide smirked. “If they don’t kill each other first.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“No.” The woman shook her head somberly. “But you might catch hints of my presence, especially when a stroke of luck comes your way.”
The woman turned to leave, but Kristen called to her one last time. “Lady? What’s your name, anyway?”
The woman turned and gave her a smile. “Destiny.”
Kristen stared at the spot where the Guide had stood and sighed contentedly. She’d made her decision. She would stay here with Jack, and they would live out the rest of their lives together, come what may.
She stood up and walked back down the hall, hoping the doctor had finished. She didn’t want to be away from Jack a second longer. She stepped into Jack’s room, glad to see the doctor had gone, and watched Jack as he rested with his eyes closed. He was so wonderful, so handsome, so strong, and he needed her. “I love you, Jack Parrish,” she said.
He opened his eyes and smiled tenderly at her. “Even after everything that’s happened?”
Kristen walked to his side and lifted his hand to her cheek. “Especially after everything that’s happened.”
“I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you, Kristen.”
Kristen laughed. “You’re not gonna lose me, Jack. I’ve chased you halfway across Nevada already.”
Jack caressed the side of her face. “I don’t know what brought you to me, but I’ll thank God for it every day, for the rest of my law-abiding life.”
Kristen felt the urge to tell him, to be honest with him about her past, where she was really from. They were starting a life together, and complete honesty was in order. “Jack? There’s something I need to tell you about where I’m from, how I came to be here.”
He pressed his fingers to her lips and shushed her with a shake of his head. “Nothing matters but the future we’ll make together. Let’s just chalk it all up to destiny and leave it at that.”
Kristen smiled, wondering if Jack somehow suspected. Maybe someday he’d ask her for an explanation. Until then, she wouldn’t utter a word about it.
Their meeting was destiny. . . .
Gazing at the man she loved, Kristen wondered if Jack had any idea how accurate his statement truly was.
Suzanne Elizabeth Witter is the author of eight books to date and has won numerous writing awards, including the prestigious Reviewer’s Choice. She is also currently involved in several long-term writing projects while working to earn her Masters Degree in Psychology. She spends her free time hiking and skiing with her children and her husband in their homestate of Washington.