Authors: Maureen Child
She stopped, spun around, and looked carefully behind her. That same sound again. A spiral of uneasiness flowed through her. She was far enough away from the town that a call for help would go unheard. And to get back to town, she would have to pass the spot where the sounds were coming from.
It had to be an animal. It could be a mountain lion. Or a hungry coyote. Shelly's mouth dried up and her throat closed. Her breath came in shallow puffs as she studied the land around her.
Slowly, carefully, her hand moved to the hem of her skirt. Inching the material up the length of her leg, Shelly didn't stop until her fingers had closed around the wooden handle of the knife she wore strapped to her thigh. For the first time she desperately wished she'd listened to Miranda two years ago when her friend advised her to carry a gun with her outside of town.
When she had the knife in hand, she straightened abruptly and called out, "Who is it? Who's out there?"
The wind pushed through clumps of sagebrush and mesquite. Prickly-pear cactus and ocotillo bushes stood silently by. Shelly caught a rustle of movement from the corner of her eye and turned to meet whatever waited for her. Her grip on the knife tightened, and for the briefest of moments she wished heartily that she'd stayed in town to keep an eye on Jesse Hogan.
But, she told herself as her gaze moved inexorably on, in the last weeks he and Miranda had hardly spoken more than a few words to each other. And so she'd thought it would be safe enough for her to leave town for a little while. Safe! she snorted. Now it wasn't Jesse Hogan's intentions she had to worry about, it was…
"You?" Her knife hand dropped to her side, though she kept a firm grip on her weapon.
Dave Black stumbled out from behind an ocotillo bush and cursed softly when inch-long thorns on the long, tentacle-like branches caught at his shirt and hat. When he was finally free of the tall, spindly cactus, Dave glared at it as if it were a living enemy deliberately trying to trap him.
“Afternoon, Shelly." He smiled and walked toward her.
#
Miranda carried the coffeepot into the dining room. Her gaze flicked to Jesse, sitting at a corner table with the Sullys. Helplessly her heartbeat quickened when he smiled and shook his head at something Jim had said.
Deliberately she turned away and set the big tin pot on the main table, where the men could help themselves. Then she went back into the safety of the kitchen. She stood in front of the stove and gave the stew pot a few good stirs. Clouds of steam rose up and she leaned into them gratefully. The heat would explain away any redness in her cheeks.
She'd never realized before how long two weeks could be. She felt as though every nerve in her body was stretched to/the breaking point and beyond. It had sounded so simple when she'd explained her plan to Jesse. But there was nothing easy about treating him with the polite friendliness she gave the others.
Even remembering the vow she'd made to her mother was becoming more difficult. Miranda moved away from the stove and walked to the back window. She held the stiff, white curtains aside and stared out at the cliff face. So many memories had come back in the last few days.
Things she hadn't thought of in years. Her mother and father holding hands and taking walks by the light of a summer sunset. Their shared laughter and whispers. The way they would look at each other, and even in a crowded room, Miranda knew that in their hearts they were alone together. And as much as they loved and doted on her, Miranda realized that their love for each other was a rare, deep emotion that even she couldn't intrude on.
Oh, she remembered the fear as well. Judd had pretty much retired when he built the canyon town and brought Teresa there to live. But every once in a while something would come over him and he would ride off. Either alone or with a few of the men from town. And during the days that he was gone, Miranda remembered clearly how her mother would spend most of each day near the mouth of the canyon, waiting for sight of him.
She dropped the curtain back into place. Those were the times when Teresa would talk to her daughter about her future. When she told Miranda that this was not the kind of life she should lead. That living with fear was too high a price to be paid no matter how much she loved a man.
Miranda walked over to the oven, pulled open the door with a towel-draped hand and took out the two, golden-brown loaves of bread. She inhaled deeply, turned, and set them down on the wood counter behind her. As she lifted them from their pans Miranda reminded herself that as soon as Judd had come back from one of his "trips," Teresa's words of warning were lost in the happiness of her parents' eager reunion.
She sighed and folded the towel neatly. How many times, she wondered, had she sat alone in the restaurant in the middle of the night, remembering the love between her parents? How many times had she dreamed of finding that kind of love for herself? But she'd never met anyone who'd even come close to kindling that kind of feeling in her. Until Jesse Hogan came to the canyon.
But he was an outlaw. Exactly the kind of man she'd been warned against.
Miranda let her head fall back on her neck. As she stared blankly at the ceiling, her brain conjured up the image of his face. Even the fates seemed to be working against them. It seemed that as soon as they'd decided to ignore the disquieting feelings between them, they were thrown together more often than before. Whether it be at Big Pete's saloon, helping to repair the roof after the storm or sorting supplies brought in by a passing bandit. No matter how hard they tried to stay apart, something had brought them together.
And Miranda was finding it harder than ever to keep her vow to her mother in mind.
As if to taunt her, images of Jesse raced through her mind. Miranda closed her eyes tightly to savor them. His eyes. His smile. The way he looked at her out of the corner of his eye when he thought she couldn't see him. How he'd helped her with the never-ending chores that no one but she ever bothered with. How he crossed his arms over his chest defensively as if that move would keep him separate from the others. And how butterflies filled her stomach when his mouth came down on hers.
Whether he liked it or not, Miranda felt that she was beginning to know Jesse Hogan very well. And it frightened her just a little to realize that the better she knew him, the more she liked him.
Chapter 8
“M’randa!"
She looked up, startled at the shouting voice. Someone was running toward the kitchen door.
“M’randa!" The swinging door flew inward, slammed into the wall behind it, and swung back into Ezra Banks’s hysterical face. “M’randa!" he called again, and pushed at the door once more.
She came around the table quickly to meet him. Behind the older man, everyone in the restaurant was moving toward him, anxious and worried.
"What is it, Ezra?" She reached out and laid one hand on the shabby sleeve of his black coat. "Calm down now. Tell me what's wrong?"
His narrow chest heaved spasmodically while he tried to catch his breath. The man's normally neat gray hair stood out in a wild bush around his head and his faded blue eyes blinked rapidly.
His agitation was contagious. Miranda glanced up at the men behind him and read her own fears on their faces. Her gaze stopped on Jesse for a long moment and his green eyes soothed her, calming her rising sense of alarm. She turned back to Ezra.
Trying to help, she asked quickly, “Is it the law?"
He shook his head violently and took another shuddering breath.
"Apaches?"
Again his head shook negative. She heard the men move restively, a few of them muttering disjointed sentences, "Crazy ol’ coot… What the hell?… 'Bout stopped my heart…"
"Ezra… please," she said quietly. “What is it?"
He bent over, hands on his knees. Miranda heard the long breath he drew in, and as he released it he muttered, "Serena. The baby. It’s comin'."
"Well, shit!" one man's disgusted voice from the other room echoed out hollowly.
"Hellfire and damnation, Ezra!" Jim Sully called out. "Thought there was a man with a rope headin' our way."
The older man straightened up and shot the men a disgusted glare before turning back to Miranda. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I didn't know what else to do, M'randa. She's cryin' somethin' awful"
Miranda glanced over his head and saw Jesse's strained, pale face. Quickly she looked away. “It’s all right, Ezra. She'll be fine. Why don't you go get Shelly while I —“
"She ain't here."
"She's probably at her cabin," Miranda offered.
"Nope. She ain't. Already looked." He frowned and pushed his hair back from his face. “Went there first. When I couldn't find her, came right to you."
"Damn!" Miranda scowled. “I forgot she left town earlier this afternoon. Went for a walk." She shook her head. "Well, we'll just have to start without her. Hopefully she'll be back soon." She moved through the doorway, talking to herself more than Ezra. “I'll go get Fat Alice and Wilma. They should be able to help."
Ezra snorted. "Fat Alice is dead drunk… I don't know about Wilma."
A stab of worry clutched at Miranda. If she had to do this alone, she and Serena were in big trouble. She'd never even witnessed a birth before, let alone helped at one. Maybe Jim… no. For just a moment she'd considered asking Jim Sully. He was the one who took care of most of the cuts and gunshot wounds, when he was in town. But somehow Miranda couldn't imagine Jim's brash, loud sense of humor being of much comfort to Serena just now.
Then she remembered Jesse. How gentle, how kind he'd been to Bobby Sawyer. He'd seemed so sure of himself and what to do. Maybe he could help her now. She looked up. Searching for his face in the crowd. He was gone.
She didn't have time to wonder about his absence, only made a mental note to send someone to find him later. If she was the only one able to help Serena, she told herself, then she'd better get at it. And hope for the best.
Miranda stepped out onto the boardwalk into the dusky twilight. At the same time Buck Farley careened around the corner of the farthest building. His horse in a full run, Buck lay low over the animal's neck, urging the big black to run even faster. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jesse trot over to join the other waiting men.
At the restaurant, Buck sat up in the saddle, pulled back on the reins, and leaped to the ground before the horse had completely stopped moving. His eyes wide, he pointed back the way he'd come. “Bill Sully's still on watch. I come to get ya!"
Jim stepped down from the boardwalk, hand on his gun. "What happened?"
“Indian sign." Buck nodded toward the canyon. “From what we could guess, a good-sized raidin' party."
"Apache?" someone asked unnecessarily.
Buck spat "Who the hell else?"
Birdwell walked up to the crowd as Buck finished speaking. “They ain't gonna do much before daylight. But we best be set and waitin' long before then. You get on back to Bill. The rest of us'll be along directly."
"Yes, sir."
“Wait!” Miranda stepped up to Buck and grabbed his arm. "Shelly's not in town. She went out beyond the wash for a walk earlier."
He tugged at his hat brim and smiled reassuringly. "Don't you worry then, ma'am. If she crossed that wash, she's safe enough."
"What do you mean?"
"Flash flood. All that rain in the mountains, I reckon. Anyhow, she won't be comin' back real soon… but them Apaches ain't gonna be tryin' to swim that mess, neither!" He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “’Sides, she ain't alone. I saw Dave followin' after her."
"Quit your talkin' now and move out!" Birdwell bellowed.
“I'm already gone!" Buck leaped onto his horse's back, yanked at the reins to turn the big animal, then thundered back down the street, his long brown ponytail flying out behind him.
"All you men!" Birdwell shouted. "Get your rifles, shotguns, and somebody get the extra ammunition from the store." He looked from one man to the next. "Meet back here in five minutes! Get everybody out here!" As they started to move he added, "And somebody drag Fat Alice down to the cliffs. She'll be sober before sunup. With Shelly and Dave out of it, we'll need every extra gun hand."
The men started running in all different directions. Jesse turned to join them, but Miranda grabbed his arm. “Birdwell, I need Jesse to stay here."
The big man's black eyes narrowed. “Why's that?”
“Serena's having her baby. Shelly’s not here. Fat Alice is drunk and I'm not so sure about Wilma."
Birdwell cursed softly and spat into the dust. “Wilma's a helluva lot better shot than she is a midwife. I was already figurin' on leavin' you here to stay with Serena. And maybe leavin' Ezra here to protect the both of you."
“I don't need Jesse for protection, Birdwell. I can shoot as well as anyone here. I need him to deliver this baby!"
“No.”
They both turned to stare at Jesse. Even in the fading light, they could see how pale he was.