Desperate Hearts (36 page)

Jace circled the house twice looking for
Kyla before dismounting to search inside. He bounded up the steps
and grasped the knob to turn it. “Kyla!” he called, walking through
the parlor. Fear licked through him like the fire outside. No lamp
was lit, but the barn provided plenty of illumination.

Just when he began to fear the worst, that
she had been taken, he heard her voice, thin and scared, from a
darkened corner of the kitchen.

“
Jace?”

“
I’m here, honey,” he said
and groped for a match inside his pocket. When he lit it, he found
her huddled beside the stove, white and scared, with her revolver
in her lap. Their eyes connected, and with a cry she sprang from
the corner into his arms. She felt so small and fragile, especially
now that she was dressed in women’s clothes.

“
Oh, Jace—they came just
after sunset. I saw them,” said, her voice muffled against his
neck. “It was Jory and some of his men. I was so scared they’d take
me again, I hid by the stove.” He heard the disgust in her words,
as if she had failed somehow. God, she had more courage than the
twenty grown men who met in Porter’s barn.

“
Was there any shooting?”
he asked.

She shook her head. “But I was afraid they
would fire the house, too. I don’t know if Jory ever saw me, he
yelled up this way, saying that the Vigilance Union would destroy
the Midnighters. And that no one, not even Jace Rankin, could do
anything about it.

“
Yeah, well, we’ll see
about that. But for now, we’re going to the hotel. We can’t stay
here.”

Grateful for his strength and protection,
Kyla didn’t argue. It had been foolish, she realized now, to stay
out here alone. She had assumed that her only threat had been
Hardesty and that Luke Jory would have no interest in her.

He gave her a moment to get some clothes
together. Then with an escort of Jace and the Midnighters, Kyla set
out for town.

Among the men who rode with them through the
dark night, she detected a new energy, an anger that had not been
there before.

“
Damnation, if those
bastards are goin’ to start burnin’ houses and barns, we won’t have
nothin’ left!”

“
It’s time they was
stopped.”

“
Don’t you worry, Kyla,”
Jim Porter assured her. “When this is over, we’ll build you a new
barn.” To Jace he added, “This is somethin’ that affects
everyone—I’m thinkin’ you won’t have much trouble getting people to
help you now. Barn burnin’ is as bad as horse theft in these
parts.”

Kyla was also assured that some of the boys
the neighboring ranches would see to her cattle until this trouble
was behind them.

The streets were quiet when they reached
town, there was a vague feeling hanging over Blakely, as everyone
held a collective breath, waiting to see what might happen
next.

Staring down the disapproving glare from the
desk clerk, Jace took Kyla directly upstairs to his room. Though
more concealing, her soft skirt and blouse did not offer as much
camouflage as had the jeans and work shirt he had expected her to
wear.

“
I’m not going to put you
in another room and then spend my time worrying about someone
breaking in,” he said, opening the door. “Your safety is a hell of
a lot important than a desk clerk’s opinion of your
reputation.”

Strange that the bed loomed so large in
here, she thought, and glanced away from it. She had spent weeks
alone with him, in circumstances even more intimate than this, so
her own shyness baffled her. As if reading her thoughts, his eyes
connected with hers, deepening to blue smoke before he broke the
contact.

“
It’s late, so you, um, you
take the bed and I’ll just, uh, bunk here,” he said, gesturing at a
settee against wall.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him
he should sleep here on the bed next to her, as he had in
Misfortune. But that would probably be a mistake, given the sudden
awkward desire that had vibrated between them. He waited in the
hallway while she stripped to her camisole and drawers, and climbed
beneath the covers. When he came back in, she had already turned
down the lamp. Then she lay stiffly in the darkness, listening as
he searched for a comfortable place on the settee.

Kyla had not expected to see Jace again. She
knew she was safe from harm now. But her heart was once more in
critical danger.

* * *

When Kyla awoke the next morning, Jace was
already gone. She found a heavily laden breakfast tray and a note
from him telling her that he might be gone for hours, but to admit
no one except him. She would find her revolver on the bureau,
cleaned, oiled, and loaded. And under no circumstances was she to
leave this room.

She went to the window and looked at the
street below. Saturdays were always busy in Blakely, particularly
around harvest time. But on this morning the streets were empty.
Still, a sense of expectation lingered, just as it had the night
before. Some of the shades on the shop windows were pulled although
the clock in the bank’s window read nine-forty. Even the Pine Cone
Saloon was closed. At least it wasn’t serving the general public,
although she saw members of the Vigilance Union straggle into the
saloon and not come out again.

She gripped the windowsill. Something was
coming—it was as vague yet as tangible as an approaching
thunderstorm.

As the hours wore on and Jace did not
return, Kyla felt her nerves being stretched to their limit. Was he
safe? What was happening? She knew she could not defy his
instructions and leave this room, but she began pacing.

At dusk, she was dozing on the settee by the
window when the sound of horses’ hooves and the jingle of bit and
bridle stirred her from her nap. She sat up straight and looked out
the window, and her jaw dropped.

Below in the street she saw scores of
mounted riders approaching. They rode calmly but fully armed down
the main street of the dusty little cow town. Each carried a
lighted pine knot torch and the street was lit as bright as
day.

“
What in the world . . .”
Kyla began, and then she saw him. There was Jace Rankin at the head
of the procession of what looked to be about eighty men. Eighty
Midnighters! She recognized original members, but also saw many men
who had previously hung back out of fear of reprisal. With her
throat as dry as chalk and her heart pounding in her chest, she
craned her neck to see. The riders halted across the street and
amassed in a semicircle outside the Pine Cone Saloon.

“
Jory, you murdering barn
burner!” Jace’s voice ricocheted off the buildings like rolling
thunder. “Bring out your cattle rustlers and fight! The Midnighters
are calling you out!”

A breathless thrill rippled through Kyla—she
had never been so proud of anyone as she was of Jace at moment.
Even though she watched from the second floor, he sat his horse as
if he were ten feet tall. And with his strong leadership, the
others had finally been galvanized into taking action.

No sound came from the saloon, although she
saw a window shade move aside, as if the coward within were peeking
at his conquerors.

“
Come out, Jory!" Jace
called again, and now the rest began to take up the chant. “Jory!
Jory! Jory!”

Still no one emerged from the Pine Cone
Saloon. After an hour, Kyla watched with a knot in her throat as
Jace climbed down from his horse and mounted the steps the in front
of the saloon. He faced the men he had brought here, his eyes
gleaming like fire and ice.

“
See what cowards the
vigilantes are?” He gestured at closed doors behind him. “Are you
men ready to take back your town from these egg-sucking weasels,
and make it a decent place to live again?”

A cheer rolled through them, heartfelt and
plainspoken.

He nodded and turned toward the saloon. “The
Vigilance Union is dead!”

Then from the back, someone yelled, “They’re
gettin’ away! They snuck out the back of the Pine Cone!” A few of
the group broke ranks to chase after them.

“
Let ’em go!” Jim Porter
called, standing in stirrups. “Let ’em go! There’s no place in this
county where those men will be able to show their faces again.
Blakely will never let them come back.”

Kyla’s eyes welled up with tears as she
watched from the window. The tyranny that had gripped this town for
so long had at last been defeated.

And they had a bounty hunter with a killer’s
reputation to thank for it.

* * *

It was decided that Kyla would linger awhile
at Jim Porter’s place until she could hire hands to return to her
ranch with her. Although Jory and many of men were seen riding out
of town between sunrise and morning, there was no point in putting
herself danger again.

In front of the hotel the next morning, Jace
took Kyla’s hand in his. “Well, I guess this is good-bye,” he
said.

The sun cast a copper halo on the top of her
hair. It had grown longer, he realized. He wished he could be
around to see how it looked when it reached length she yearned
for.

She nodded but said nothing more about him
staying in Blakely. Secretly he supposed he was disappointed, but
he had asked for it. How many times did he think could push her
away and tell her no before she gave up? It made their good-bye all
the more poignant as he gazed into her turquoise eyes.

She nodded. “I know. You did a wonderful
thing for this town, Jace,” she said. Her voice trembled but
remained dry-eyed.

“
If you ever need
anything—” He let the sentence unfinished. The truth was even if
she needed anything, with the life he lived she would have no way
to reach him. Every feeling that Lyle Upton had silenced in those
early years chose this moment to come to life, and the pain of
leaving her was as fierce as a raw nerve. The weight of his regrets
was growing heavier by the moment.

He took her into his arms and gave her a
long, soft kiss, one that expressed more love than any words he
could tell her. One that he would remember on those nights when he
had only the sound of rain and own heartbeat for company.

As she pressed her lips to his, Kyla knew
she could not be mad at Jace—he had done everything he had promised
to do, and more. If he could not love her, well, there was nothing
she could do about that. She couldn’t force him to it. Her throat
grew tight with longing.

Stepping away from her, he pulled his
horse’s reins from the hitching post and climbed into his saddle.
He gave her one long, final look, his ice blue eyes riveted on her
face, then pulled the horse around and kicked into a trot.

“
Good-bye, Jace,” she
choked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jace trotted slowly down Blakely’s main
street, steadfastly resisting the urge to look back over his
shoulder. Kyla might be back there watching him from the sidewalk,
and he didn’t want to know. He already felt sick and empty inside.
So he kept his gaze pointed forward and away from the thin November
sun that warmed his back.

He passed the shops and restaurant, the
church and homes. It was a pretty little town, a nice place that
would be better now that Luke Jory and his thieves had been dealt
with. It might even be a good place settle down, if a man was so
inclined. And if he was able to follow his inclinations.

But Jace was hoping to make it to California
before hard winter set in. He wondered just how far away it was. No
matter, he supposed. There was nothing to hold him here any longer.
He’d done the job he taken on back in Silver City when a young boy
with one hell of a sassy attitude and a lot of grit had come
looking for him.

He shifted in his saddle and looked at the
hills beyond town. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, the things he
and Kyla had lived through. Now he could look back and almost
chuckle over Mildred DeGroot walking in while he kissed Kyla and
believing that he kissing “the boy.” But he still shuddered when he
thought of sitting next to Kyla while she lay delirious with fever,
more dead than alive from Hobie McIntyre’s gunshot wound. And when
he remembered her a in yellow gown with ribbons in her hair, he had
to force himself to keep the horse aimed west.

But perhaps by coming here he had atoned for
the Bluebird Saloon. Maybe the woman and her little girl were
watching him from some peaceful place where no harm could come to
them, and they approved of what he had done for Kyla and Blakely.
He hoped so. He’d asked for their forgiveness often enough. Perhaps
he had it at last.

“
Hey, Rankin.”

Oh God, no, he thought. He knew the tone of
that phrase. Instantly, a dozen noonday scenes flashed through his
memory; a dozen hotheaded men with axes to grind or coup to count
had approached him with those very words.

“
Mr. Rankin,
wait.”

But when Jace looked up, he recognized not
only the speaker on the sidewalk, but the group of men he was with.
Most of them he had met yesterday. He nudged his horse to their
side of the street.

“
Something I can do for
you?” he asked, curious but on guard.

“
There might be something
we can do for each other.”

“
Yeah?”

“
We have a proposition to
discuss with you, if you’re of a mind.”

Sure, why not, he thought. That was the
mixed blessing of having nowhere to go and nothing to do. He had
all the time in the world.

* * *

Kyla went back to Jim Porter’s place that
afternoon with a heart as heavy as lead. Although she had believed
she could take it, watching Jace ride away for the last time was
the hardest thing she had done since they had set out together.