Never Love a Cowboy (23 page)

She now knew his body almost as well as she knew her own. Guilt should have gnawed at her. Instead sadness swelled within her. She would never again have a night like this, for although their bodies had
spoken volumes, neither of them had voiced declarations of love.

She eased toward the edge of the bed. Harry’s hold on her tightened.

“Where are you going?” he asked lazily.

“The night’s over.”

To her profound regret, he loosened his hold.

“A pity.”

She squeezed her eyes shut against the threatening tears. She moved away from him, snatched up her nightgown, and slid it over her head. Fearing her heart was reflected in her eyes, she rose and walked to the door, but she felt his gaze following her movements.

“Jessye?”

She glanced over her shoulder. He sat in the bed, the sheet draped up to his waist, his hair standing up on one side, almost making her smile, his face solemn.

He bunched his fists around the sheet. “I give you my word, as God is my witness, that I did not cheat your father the night I won the saloon.”

Relief swamped her, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she believed him now as she’d never believed him before. She gave a curt nod, tears burning the back of her throat. She put her hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and looked back at him. “What about last night? Did you cheat when we cut the deck?”

She saw the battle raging across his features before remorse settled within his eyes. “Yes.”

She fought back the tears and swallowed to push down the lump that had risen in her throat. She angled her chin defiantly. “Hell, Harry, I’d be flattered if I weren’t the only woman you have access to.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, she jerked open the door, walked through it, and slammed it in her wake. She heard him call her name, but she continued down the hallway, her shattering heart drowning the echo of his voice.

S
he should be bloody well flattered, Harrison
thought as he jerked up a pillow and brought his arm back to throw it at the door.

Her scent wafted around him. He lowered his arm and buried his face in the pillow, the pillow she’d lain on through the night. Her fragrance had seeped into the feathers, into his memory.

And memories were probably all he would have for the remainder of his life. A thousand times through the night he’d considered telling her that he loved her, but the words had clogged his throat.

He would rather die than hear her laughter if he revealed his heart. He had always valued the rewards of risk, and when he thought of all he might gain if he risked his heart…

He pulled the pillow away and glanced at the rumpled sheets where she had lain. Last night had been the sweetest of his life, and the most passionate. He had known it would be so.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his hip, he swung his legs off the bed and sat brooding. He should have
told her the truth, but her eyes had held such hope that he was a better man than he was.

Her faith in him was a burden he could not carry.

Jessye knew she should have flopped onto her bed and fallen into a deep sleep, but she was restless, feeling like a caged animal searching for a way to get beyond the iron bars. She’d been awake most of the night, sleeping only during small snatches of time. She’d hated the moments when she’d failed to stay awake. If Harry wasn’t making love to her, he was talking in a resonant voice that had served to arouse her passions as much as his hands and mouth.

He was a master with his hands. Little wonder he could manipulate cards. He’d certainly manipulated her: heart, body, and soul.

As much as she wanted to hate him for it, she couldn’t. She would carry the memories of last night with her until the day she died, knowing her final thoughts would be of him.

Her maudlin mood broke when she stepped into the kitchen. She narrowed her eyes at the mess she beheld. Harry
had
sent Billy to bed early—before he’d cleaned a single thing. Why had she expected less?

She heated the water and began washing the glasses, grateful for the distraction. Busy hands and all that. She smiled at the thought; it sounded too much like Harry.

She heard the shuffling gait and glanced over her shoulder.

“Gawd Almighty!” her father exclaimed as he glanced around the room with a critical eye. “Looks like a damned tornado come through here.”

“I think Harry excused Billy early, it being his first night and all.”

“Sounds like somethin’ Harry would do. Not doin’ things when they should be done just makes you have to work that much harder later on. Some men never learn that.”

She watched as her father slipped his head through the neck of his apron and tied it behind him. “You wash and I’ll dry,” he offered.

She nodded slightly and handed him a glass. She watched his wrinkled, gnarled hands efficiently wipe the glass just as he’d so often wiped away her sorrows. She felt the tears welling. “I love you, Pa.”

“I love you, too.” He touched his roughened knuckle to her cheek. “What’s wrong, girl?”

“I just needed to hear the words.”

He studied her as he had when she was a child reluctant to confess a wrongdoing. “You look tired, daughter.”

“I didn’t sleep much last night. I…I…” She turned her attention to the murky tub of water. “Harry told me that he didn’t cheat you the night he won the saloon.”

“And you stayed up ponderin’ that fact, feelin’ guilty for distrusting him? Why didn’t you just ask me? I coulda told you he didn’t cheat.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Now how would you know whether or not he cheated?”

“On account I was the one that did the cheatin’.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “What?”

He grinned with pride. “Yep. Used to be good at it when I was young, but your ma made me promise when I married her that I’d stop, and I kept that prom
ise. I haven’t cheated in years. I was grateful to see I hadn’t lost the knack for turnin’ a card.”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “Pa, you’re supposed to cheat to ensure that you win.”

His grin eased away and his eyes reflected wisdom. “You cheat when it’s worth it in order to gain somethin’ better.”

She widened her eyes. “But, Pa, you lost!”

“What did I lose, Jessye? A building? Wood and glass. And what did I win? My old daughter back. He was hurtin’ you, girl, and you were lettin’ him do it. Wouldn’t tell him to go to hell, not until he owned this saloon. Then you were standing up to him again.”

“Are you saying you lost this saloon on purpose so I’d tell him—”

“So you’d stop looking at him like he was a cripple. So he’d stop feeling like one. I gave him a reason to crawl out of bed in the morning. A man needs that. And look at what he’s done with the place. We’re making more money now than we ever have.”

“He needs it, and you don’t?”

He cupped her chin. “I have your love, Jessye girl. That’s all I need. Probably all he needs as well.”

She stared at him. “Are you saying I should love him?”

“Don’t you already?”

She jerked her chin free of his hold. “I’m trying not to. He’s a scoundrel, Pa. He knows nothing about loving. Why last night, he—” The heat suffused her face, hotter than the water she was using to clean the glasses. She couldn’t tell him the truth about last night.

“He what?”

“He just cheated me is all.”

Her father narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to be gettin’ out my shotgun?”

“No, Pa. I knew the risks when I sat down to play him.”

He leaned near. “I could teach you what I know of cheatin’—”

She smiled lovingly. “No, I think we got enough cheaters in this here saloon.”

Using the crutches for leverage and balance, Harrison slid his hand over the faro table. “Looks good, Gray.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I’m more than pleased. A share of the profits will go to you.”

“Then you’d best find an exceptional dealer.”

“I plan to handle that myself.”

Gray raised a brow. “Indeed? What do you know of faro?”

Since the night Jessye had spent in his bed, Harrison had fought to move beyond the shadows. Although his movements were still awkward, and he was dependent on the crutches, he knew his legs were growing stronger. But his hip. He feared it would never again have the strength to support the whole of his weight.

“I know the rules and I know that it will be a challenge. I need a challenge.”

The front door opened. Jessye stepped through and staggered to a stop, her eyes widening as she stared at him. He had avoided allowing her to see him as he truly was, always making certain he was at his table before she came downstairs for the day, never leaving before she retired for the night.

The excitement over the faro table had made him careless. He straightened himself as much as possible. “I thought you were seeing to supplies.”

She closed her mouth and the door. “I was.” She held out an envelope. “But you had this waiting at the post office.”

“What is it?”

“I think it’s from Kit.”

“Well, then bring it over. Let’s have a look.”

Despite her aloofness in the two weeks since their clandestine meeting, he could not prevent his gaze from caressing her as she strolled across the room. She was so incredibly lovely. He took the envelope from her, removed the parchment, and unfolded it.

“What does it say?” Gray asked.

He scowled at his friend. “Give me a moment to read it.” He had no idea what personal things Kit may have included.

Harry glanced up from the letter and met Jessye’s gaze. “He says your investment will be returned tenfold.”

She leaned forward, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Tenfold? You mean ten-times?”

“That’s what he says, and Kit has never been one to lie.”

She sank back against the wall as though all the breath had been knocked from her. “Tenfold. My God. I can go anywhere, do anything. Independent. I’ll be completely independent.”

Harrison felt as though someone had just bludgeoned him. When Kit returned, she would carry out her promise. She would leave. He darted a look at Gray. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

“I need to head home, anyway, but one more thing before I go.” He reached behind him, grabbed a cane with a hooked handle, and extended it toward Harrison. “I made this for you.”

Harrison wished Grayson had presented it to him before Jessye had arrived. It was bad enough that she’d seen him on crutches. He didn’t want her to think he might never progress beyond a cane. But the workmanship on Gray’s gift was remarkable. “It’s a very handsome…piece of work. Thank you.”

“I just wanted it to be there when you were ready for it.”

“I do appreciate it.”

Gray nodded. “Let me know how the table works out.”

“I will.” He watched Gray walk through the door before returning his attention to Jessye.

She moved forward and braced her hands on the table, concern clearly reflected in her eyes. “Kit said more than that. He has some bad news.”

“No, no bad news. However, he doesn’t plan to rush back.”

She smiled brightly, closing her fists and pressing them to her chest as though she needed to hold all the good news close. “It doesn’t matter. Just knowing that it’s coming—”

“Jessye…”

Her smile withered away. “What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “The night that you came to my room. I took no precautions to ensure that I did not get you with child. I realize it’s only been a little over two weeks, probably too soon to know for sure—”

She waved a hand in the air. “I took precautions.”

He was caught off guard not only by her words, but also by the disappointment reeling through him. “What?”

“After you kissed me in Dallas, I figured sooner or later I’d weaken. After you put Kit to bed, I went out and talked with some soiled doves—”

“You went out alone at night!”

“Will you calm down. I survived.”

“Only by the grace of God. Have you any idea what might have happened?”

“Yes! I could have gone through the hell of havin’ to give up another baby. So I had
those
women tell me a couple of things that I could do to make sure I didn’t get with child.” She lifted a shoulder. “That evening on the trail after you almost drowned, I was
caught unaware, but the night I came to your room, I came prepared. I’m never going through the hell of giving up my baby again.”

“I would have married you.”

A corner of her mouth curved up into a knowing smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, but you can’t stay faithful to the top card on the deck if you think the one on the bottom is better looking.”

He watched her stroll away, the pain in his hip insignificant when compared to the anguish in his heart.

Harrison studied his reflection in the mirror. He thought he looked quite dapper. When he wasn’t sitting at the faro table, he practiced walking in his room with the cane Gray had made for him. He’d fallen more than once, bruising his pride more than his body.

But tonight he’d bathed, shaved, trimmed his hair, and put on his starched white shirt, red brocade vest, black waistcoat, and trousers.

A bloody shame no one would see him.

But he wanted his first excursion into the saloon to be late at night, after everyone had gone to bed. He still wasn’t pleased with the speed of his walk, but shuffling across the small bedroom had grown tedious. He needed to push a little harder, a greater distance.

He heard the tinkle of glasses, pots, and pans fall into silence. He held his breath, listening for Billy’s footsteps echoing along the hallway. Jessye would have already retired. Her father as well. Billy was the last for the night.

He met his gaze in the mirror. “Let’s see how you do, old boy.”

Squaring his shoulders, he leaned heavily on the cane, and with minute steps made his way to the door. Quietly, he opened it and peered into the hall. All was clear.

He moved into the hallway, trying to ignore the horrid sound of one foot dragging after the other. Still, he no longer heard the
clomp, clomp
of one crutch hitting the floor before another. The cane was quieter, but it did not provide the support to which he’d become accustomed. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he strained to breathe as though he were running instead of moving at a snail’s pace. He wouldn’t make it to the faro table on the far side of the saloon tonight, but by God, he would not stop until he’d at least reached his table at the back of the saloon.

He turned the corner. The table came into sight.

“Harry!”

He jerked his head around and froze. Jessye stood at the bar, her mouth agape.

“Harry, you’re walking.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

She smiled with absolute pleasure. “I would. Sit down. Let’s celebrate.” She leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

Pride had him taking larger steps than was wise. Near the table, he teetered, grabbed the chair for support, and practically toppled onto the seat, the jarring motion sending shards of pain through his hip. “I’d intended this exercise to be done in private, not before an audience,” he grumbled as he righted himself.

“Ah, Harry, when will you realize that I don’t care
that you’re not as graceful as you once were.” She sat and poured whiskey into the glasses.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been drinking already.”

“Just one. Maybe two. All right. Three. I couldn’t sleep. Thought it would help.” She smiled brightly. “When do you think Kit will get here?”