Nevada Heat (9 page)

Bill jumped into the corral and, with the help of two others, grabbed the horse and held it steady.

"You 'bout had enough, Jes?"

Jesse staggered to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it. He bent over, snatched his hat off the ground, and slapped it against his thighs. He glanced up at Jim. "Not yet." Miranda's kiss and his own reaction were still too vivid a memory. If he stayed with the horses long enough, maybe their wildness would calm him.

"Shit, boy. That horse from hell ain't about to let you get back on! Give one of the others a chance, why don't you?"

Jesse frowned and walked across the corral toward the wild-eyed animal already prancing nervously. "Stay out of this, Jim. I'm gonna ride the damn hardhead if it kills me."

Jim propped one boot on the bottom rail and shook his head gloomily. “It just might at that, y'know."

Bill and two others held the horse steady as Jesse climbed back up. As soon as he was set, the three men jumped clear and just managed to avoid flying hooves.

“'Lo, Jim."

Jim Sully looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, Birdwell. Fine day, ain't it?"

“S'pose." Birdwell laid his shotgun on the top rail, both hands on the weapon to steady it.

Jim's eyebrows went straight up. “Huntin' bear, are ya?"

Birdwell didn't answer. Instead he asked quietly, “What do you know about this Jesse fella, anyway?"

Jim shrugged. “Not a helluva lot, I reckon. Why?"

Birdwell swung his head to look at the other man. His cold black eyes stared hard at the blond man. “Any reason why you ain't answerin'?"

“No.” Jim cleared his throat. “Hell, Birdwell. You know as well as me that most men on the run don't talk about theirselves."

Birdwell gazed at him steadily… waiting.

“Well.” Jim coughed again and turned back to the corral. Looking at Birdwell's surly face was enough to make a man jumpy. “Let's see now… we picked him up around Tucson a while back."

”How?”

"Huh?”

“I said how'd you come to hook up with him?"

"Oh." Jim's forehead wrinkled as he tried to remember the exact set of circumstances. The whole thing was almighty fuzzy. As a matter of fact, he couldn't rightly recall just how Jesse happened to find them. "He just rode up to the fire one night, clear as I can remember. Helped hisself to coffee, talked some to me and the boys…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, shit, Birdwell!" Jim straightened up and forced himself to look into the big man’s eyes. “I didn't know you was gonna give me no test on it or nothin'. How the hell am I s'posed to recall every blasted thing?"

Birdwell sighed and shook his head. "What do you know?"

“Let's see…" Jim shoved his hands in his pockets, pursed his lips, and narrowed his eyes in thought. "He don't hardly never complain." He nodded abruptly. "And that there is a good thing. Lord knows between Bill and them other two, I hear enough gripin' already."

"What else?"

"He's right even-tempered. I 'preciate that in a ridin' partner. Get a hothead in your bunch, and he's liable to shoot off his gun or his mouth at the wrong time and get ya into a peck of trouble." Jim glanced into the corral and saw that Jesse had about whipped that durn horse into shape. And he'd missed the last of the fight because of Birdwell's danged questions. He turned, frowning, back to the man on his right. "And I'll say this for him. Jesse always does his share. Whether it be takin' a turn as camp cook, sittin' night guard, or draggin' Bill outta some saloon when he's dead drunk. He's a hand, Birdwell. I got no complaints."

Birdwell nodded thoughtfully and picked up his gun. Cradling it in the hollow of his arm, he turned and walked away just as Jesse stepped up to the fence.

His hat in his hand, Jesse used his sleeve to mop sweat off his forehead. Squinting after Birdwell, he asked Jim, "What'd he want?"

Jim shrugged and grinned. "Askin' questions about you, son!"

“Me?” Jesse's gaze snapped back to the baby-faced outlaw. “What kind of questions?"

"Durn it! You, too?" Jim took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “What the hell's goin’ on here anyhow? How come all of a sudden I got to remember ever'thing that a body says?"

"What kind of questions, Jim?"

“Shit. Just the usual. Who are ya? What do I know about ya? That kinda thing." Jim reached across the fence and punched Jesse's shoulder. “Don't pay him no mind, Jes. It's just his way. Sometimes Birdwell's like a old woman."

"Yeah. An old woman with a revolvin' shotgun."

“Yeah, well…" Jim turned the subject to something more interesting. "You gonna have another go at one of them mustangs now that you settled that one's hash?"

Jesse put his hat on and tore his gaze away from the big man's broad back. “Yeah. Yeah, I am." He turned and walked back to the far side of the corral, where the next wild horse waited.

Somehow Jesse managed to keep from turning and taking another look at Birdwell's retreating figure. He didn’t like this one bit. Hell, he'd guessed that the big man was wary of him, but it sounded now like his suspicions were growing.

What if he found out somehow that Jesse wasn't an outlaw at all? That he'd been pretending so's he'd have a way of gettin' into the canyon?

That's not all you should be worryin over, his brain reminded him. What do you think’ll happen if Birdwell finds out about you kissin' Miranda this mornin'? Jesse kicked at the dirt, disgusted. He knew good and well what would happen. He'd get thrown out of town. Or worse.

Dammit. Jesse rubbed his jaw viciously. What the hell had he been thinkin'? He had no business kissin' that woman! And why in the Sam Hill had she kissed him back?

Suddenly every awakened, unwanted feeling he'd experienced in that kiss came rushing back. His heart pounded, his breath quickened, and his palms itched to hold her again. He came up alongside the next horse he was set to ride and motioned one of the men to get out of his way. Grabbing hold of the saddle horn, he pulled himself up and settled in. His fingers wrapped around the rope. He gritted his teeth. Jesse was determined to rid himself of the feelings Miranda sparked if he had to ride and break every damned wild horse on the place.

Even if it meant breaking a few of his own bones. The men let go and the horse charged. Jesse's body snapped back and forth. Jarring, pounding pain coursed through his body, and when the horse made a sharp left turn, Jesse flew off into the dirt. Landing on his back, Jesse took a long moment to get to his feet. When he finally managed it, he heard Jim call out, “Hey, Jes. Forgot to tell ya. M'randa wants us all out to the graveyard this afternoon. We got to bury Bobby."

Jesse brushed his hands against his thighs disgustedly. Damn near broke his back that time and it didn't do no good at all. Miranda was still in his mind. Not only that, he would have to see her again much too soon. At a burial.

He sighed and walked to the horse. Just what he needed. Another funeral.

#

The sandy-haired man rolled over onto his side. Reaching out, he grabbed the naked woman lying next to him and pulled her closer. She muttered sleepily as his hand moved over the curve of her hip. His head propped up on one hand, the man idly explored the woman's body with the other. As he did, his gaze moved over the room he'd been in for the last two days. Blood red drapes hung over the two windows, effectively shutting out daylight. The walls were covered with a garishly colored flowered paper and a painting of an ugly, nude woman reclining on a chaise hung on the far wall. A blue haze of cigarette smoke drifted through the air and blended badly with the stale smell of whiskey and sweat. The sheets beneath him were wrinkled and hot, the feather pillows long since flattened into uselessness. On the left side of the bed, a full-length, standing mirror faced him. Deliberately he tossed the covers off the woman beside him and stared at her backside reflected in the mirror. His tanned, work-roughened hand cupped her snow-white buttocks and he smiled at the image it made.

She stirred slightly and he gave her a little pinch. She moaned and moved closer. He grinned at his own reflection. Lottie'd been good fun. Not too bad a way to pass the time, he told himself. Lord knew she was eager enough. And still… he frowned and the man in the mirror glowered back at him. His gaze moved over the reflected image of her back. From shoulder to calf, she was a well-built woman. But her hair was red. Her eyes a murky brown. And she had too much meat on her willing bones.

Deliberately his brain created another woman's image. In the shining glass, the man now saw a smaller, curvy woman with soft brown hair and blue-green eyes filled with desire. For him. In his mind's eye, the woman reached for him hungrily and he watched her hands move over his thick body.

His breath coming fast, the sandy-haired man felt the steady pulsing in his loins and groaned deep in his throat. Lottie stretched out along the length of him and in the mirror. He stared as her pale, grasping hands moved over his hairy thighs. Her teeth nipped at his nipples and the blond man moved his hand up to the back of her head. His fingers threaded through her dyed copper-red hair and pulled her head back.

She looked up at him, running her tongue over her lips, her brown eyes still half-shut with sleep. The man allowed himself to pretend that those eyes were the deep, blue-green ones he wanted them to be. Lottie turned her head suddenly in his grip and moved her lips over the long scar on his forearm. Her tongue smoothed over his skin and he sucked in a deep breath. She never seemed to forget how sensitive that old knife wound was and how it affected him when she teased it with her mouth.

Slowly he lay down on his back and gave Lottie free rein to his flesh. Carefully, with practiced hands, the woman stroked his heated skin with her palms, occasionally scratching gently with her long, sharp fingernails. The man stared up at the ceiling and imagined the entrance to Bandit's Canyon.

Lottie's mouth touched the inside of his thigh and his body jerked slightly in response. He smiled lazily. She moved on, running her lips and fingertips over his calves. Deliberately he closed his mind to her actions and concentrated instead on his plans.

It was coming on to winter, he told himself. About time to find a spot and settle in. Mayhap now was the time to head for the canyon. It'd been a while since he'd been back. Miranda ought to be quite a sight now. All filled out good and proper.

Lottie's teeth worked at his abdomen and he stroked the back of her head idly. He glanced at her, watched her large breasts dance with her movements, and felt himself swell eagerly.

Yes, it was time. Time for him to go back to the canyon and claim what was his. Time for Miranda to realize what he'd known all along. She was meant for him. He was the only man worthy of her. And by God, this time he would have her. He grinned up at the ceiling and remembered the last time he was there.

Ol’ Judd Perry had actually had the nerve to refuse him. And after he'd done the right thing by talkin' to the old man first and all. Well, Judd wasn't around no more. And Birdwell was gettin' too damn old to worry about.

This time nothing would stop him.

Lottie's mouth closed around him and he allowed himself a brief moment to savor the damp warmth of her mouth before he pulled her off.

“What'sa matter, honey?" She grinned at him lazily. "Don't ya want it like that this time?"

"Yeah." He smiled back at her. "Yeah, I do. But I want to watch. I want to see you."

She straightened up, lifted her chin, and shook her wild tangle of hair back from her face. Sitting on her heels, her hands on her milky thighs, she sighed, "Why didn't ya say so, hon?" Slowly, with the concentrated glide of a snake, the woman eased her body down off the bed. Once she was kneeling on the floor, she crooked her index finger at him.

The blond sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Before we start, darlin'," she whispered, her fingernails dragging over his nipples, "let me see it again. You know what that does to me."

He grinned and half turned. He felt her finger move over his shoulder, following the design traced there.

"Ooh." She sighed heavily and moved her mouth over his shoulder and around to his chest. Her tongue darting quick, wet strokes on his flesh, she mumbled, "I just love that thing. I ain't never seen no Indian lance tattoo before."

He pushed all thoughts of the canyon away. No reason why he shouldn't pay attention and enjoy what Lottie did so well. The man lifted her slightly and took her nipples into his mouth, one after the other. When he released her, she slid down the length of him, brushing his chest with her breasts.

He stared into the mirror opposite him. Her hair tumbled freely over her shoulders and back. She sat on her heels, her rounded buttocks smooth and somewhat flattened. Her waist was narrow and the soles of her feet as pink as the rest of her. His gaze fixed on her, he threaded his thick fingers through her hair and drew her mouth to his member.

When her lips closed around him and her tongue moved over his swollen flesh, the man sucked in a gulp of air between clenched teeth. His fingers tightened and he held her fast. He concentrated on the image before him. Of the naked woman on the floor before him. Servicing him. Enjoying it. Wanting it as much as he did.