Never Love a Cowboy (8 page)

Jessye pointed her spoon toward the circle of men. “So how come you never join them?”

“Because I value the worth of my dollar more than they do.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “Because you know Harry cheats.” She moved the beans around on her plate. “I don’t like to see him taking their money.”

“He doesn’t win every hand.”

“He wins enough. He doesn’t realize that the money these men make at the end of the trail has got to last them all year.”

“I would say that was their problem, not his. He offers the game. He doesn’t force them to play.”

“But gambling is like whiskey. Some men just can’t say no to it.”

“So perhaps your father should close down his saloon.”

Jerking her head around, she narrowed her eyes. “Your point being?”

“You can’t condemn one vice without condemning them all. Life is a series of choices, and as my father taught me, you live the remainder of your life with each choice made.”

“You always think with your head?”

“No. Unfortunately, when the situation warrants it, I tend to think with my heart. It is not so wise, and the regrets are—”

“Hot damn!” Magpie cried.

Jessye returned her attention to the men. Magpie wore a grin that spread from one ear to the other.

“Two aces. Who would a thought I’d beat you with
two aces? How much do I owe you now?”

She watched Harry glance at his tally sheet. Playing on credit was another idea she didn’t approve of, but she wasn’t about to start doling out anyone’s pay until they reached Sedalia.

“Let’s see, lad,” Harry said, making notations. “You owe me eighty-three dollars.”

Magpie’s smile eased. “Well, at least I can still get me a new pair of boots. Reckon I ought to call it a night.”

“You ain’t gettin’ them boots if you play him tomorrow,” one of the men sneered.

“Don’t know why you’re so uppity,” Magpie retorted. “You owe him ninety-six.”

“Yeah, but I feel Lady Luck is about to kiss my cheek,” Red said.

“That’s the only lady what’ll kiss you,” Magpie said with a guffaw.

“That’s one more than will kiss you,” Red told him.

“Now, gentlemen,” Harry said, raising a hand. “Enough with the insults. Who wants to play another round?”

Jessye watched the men toss in their rocks. Rocks instead of coins. She should have known Harry would work out a way to gamble with men who had yet to earn any dollars. She sighed. “Three weeks on the trail, and he’s already got most of their money in his pocket. No wonder it didn’t bother him when I wouldn’t sign him on as a partner. He’s gonna end up with a bundle of money anyway.”

“They only owe him on paper. If a good wind snatches it from his hand, they’ll have to start over.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I know he would. He cares nothing for the money, Jessye. He cares only about winning.”

Jessye watched one of the hands amble into camp, a worried expression on his face. “Cows are restless tonight, Dan. I think we need a few more riders circling the herd to lessen the chance of a stampede.”

Dan looked toward Kit. “It’ll make the men tired tomorrow, but a stampede could leave a few of them dead tonight.”

Kit nodded. “Take as many as you need.”

Without hesitation or complaint, the men tossed their cards into the circle and scrambled to their feet. The one thing they all knew and feared was a stampede. Jessye was surprised to see Harry gather up his cards before standing and heading for his horse. She didn’t want any of the men in harm’s way, but at least the Texans knew how to handle a stampede. The Englishmen…she didn’t want to think about what might happen to them if the cattle took off at a haphazard run. “We don’t need all of them out there,” she said.

“Harry?” Kit called. “I want to talk with you.”

She felt her stomach loosen. Why she worried about the scoundrel she’d never know, but she was grateful he wouldn’t be circling the skittish cows.

Harry strutted over like the lord of the manor. Only a contract kept him from officially being recognized as one of the partners. No man in the outfit questioned orders he gave, and he gave them as though he had the right. She’d considered putting him in his place a time or two, and she would if he ever gave an order with which she didn’t agree. Unfortunately, he had yet to make that mistake.

He hunkered down in front of them. She wondered
if he realized how much like a cowboy he actually looked posed as he was, his trousers tight across his thighs. Certainly not the way a man would sit in a lady’s parlor.

“What did you need?” Harry asked.

Kit reached into his pocket, withdrew his map, unfolded it, and spread it over the ground. “Do you remember my mentioning David Robertson?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but I thought we’d agreed—”

Kit smiled. “Hear me out before jumping to conclusions. They live near Dallas. By the end of the week, we’ll be close enough that I’d like to pay them a visit if you have no objections.”

“Why would I object to having an opportunity to engage in a meaningful conversation with people who appreciate the finer aspects of life?”

Jessye felt the sting of his words as though he’d delivered each one with a bullet into her heart. She knew nothing of the finer aspects of life, and she wondered if he found conversations with her meaningless. But if he did, then why did he talk to her at all?

The answer hit her with an unerring truth: she was the only woman around.

“I have no idea how the war might have changed their financial situation. I did write him about our cattle venture. He views it as a great folly. Still, I would like to see for myself that they are well,” Kit said.

“Then we shall do so with my blessing.”

“Good. I thought we’d also let the men draw lots and give a few of them the night off. I have no idea what Dallas offers in the way of entertainment, but it must offer more than the open prairie.”

Harry glanced at Jessye. “Do you know anything about Dallas?”

She shrugged. “I only know the Shawnee Trail takes us by it.”

“Then it’ll be an adventure for us all,” Harry said as he unfolded his body.

“Where are you going?” Jessye asked, her gut tightening.

“To watch over the herd.”

“We’ve got enough men out there.”

“One more can’t hurt. Besides, I saw that young lad Slim head out with the others. If stampedes are truly as horrifying as these men indicate, he should be here at the camp.”

Jessye leapt to her feet. “But you won’t know what to do. You’ve never seen stampeding cattle.”

“Dan has recited the procedures so often I could handle the situation in my sleep.”

He walked off, and Jessye dropped to the ground. She knew he was right. Their wrangler, Slim, shouldn’t be out there, but durn it, she didn’t want Harry out there either.

“Put the stampede out of your mind, Jessye,” Kit said quietly. “It’s unlikely to happen with all the precautions we’re taking. Think of Dallas instead and the fine time we’ll have in the city.”

J
essye gazed out the window of her hostelry
room and watched the people walk the dusty streets of Dallas. The town consisted of little more than crude buildings, but a promise of greatness permeated the air.

She yearned for a hot bath and a soft bed. She’d enjoy both later tonight.

But this afternoon, she wanted to walk through the town, and she thought she’d be safe as long as she looked like a dirty, trail-weary cowboy—which she certainly was.

She longed to stroll into a saloon and take a look around, gather mental notes regarding the walls and the arrangement of the room so she’d have ideas on ways to improve her pa’s saloon once she returned to Fortune. She’d make good money on this trail drive, but it wouldn’t last a lifetime—she wanted to invest it in something that would.

She left the room quietly. The hostelry wasn’t fancy. Little in this town was. The hostelry had no back steps that she could use to slip out unnoticed. She descended the stairs into the main foyer. The
clerk behind the desk gave her a tight smile. She gave him a brusque nod. She cursed her hands for growing damp. What did it matter that he thought she was beneath him?

When this cattle drive was over and she held an abundance of money, she’d be the one looking down her nose. With a purpose to her stride, she started toward the double front doors.

“Jessye!”

She staggered to a halt at the echo of Harry’s voice. She turned to see him marching toward her. He
had
cleaned up, and her heart almost stopped beating as she took in his appearance. Cleanly shaven and dressed in his gambler’s clothes, he made her feel like a rag doll that should be tossed out. “Why are you all gussied up?” she asked as he stopped in front of her.

“Because there is some evidence of civilization in the area.” He cupped her elbow and leaned low so only she could hear. “I need an advance on my earnings.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

She watched as his jaw clenched, and she knew he didn’t like that she controlled the purse strings, but damn if she’d hand her money over to him without good reason.

“Kit fears we might not have enough money to purchase all the supplies we need to reach Sedalia. A man has invited me to participate in a private poker game later tonight, and I intend to ensure that we do have enough—”

“By risking what little we’ve got left on the turn of a card?”

“By risking my allotment,” he said in a taut voice.

“The rules are that every man gets paid when we reach Sedalia and not before. If I pay you, I’ll have to pay some amount to the others, and then I guarantee we won’t have enough for supplies.”

“Then give me a loan. I promise I’ll pay it back tenfold.”

“Harry, I know all about promises.”

“You know nothing about my promises—”

“Jessye?”

Her breath hitched at the familiar voice from her youth. She twisted her head slightly. Gerald Milton stood beside her, a hesitant smile on a face that was more rugged than she’d remembered, but still as handsome. Where was quicksand when she needed it to swallow her whole? She cleared her throat as quietly as she could. “Gerald?”

His smile grew. “What in God’s name are you doin’ here dressed like that?”

She cast a quick glance at Harry and saw suspicion slowly dawn within the emerald depths of his eyes. She forced herself to speak past the knot tightening her throat. “Herding cattle.”

He laughed. “Jessye, everyone knows that a woman does not herd cattle—”

“I’d be mindful of what you say regarding my fiancée,” Harry commanded in a tightly controlled voice.

Gerald snapped his gaze to Harry. “Your fiancée? Why I had no idea when I invited you to join us in a little poker game that you knew Jessye…so well.”

His voice hinted at an intimacy shared between a man and woman. He reached out to touch her cheek,
and Jessye jerked back. She saw the flash of anger in the blue eyes she’d once drowned in.

“Me and Jessye go way back, don’t we, darlin’? Maybe Bainbridge here would like to know exactly how well we know each other.”

“Jessye and I share our secrets,” Harry said as he slipped his arm around her and pulled her snugly against his side. She’d never been more grateful for the support in her life. If he felt her trembling, he gave no indication. “I know you chose the South over her.”

“So you’re willing to take tarnished goods and a bastard—”

“The baby died,” Jessye lied.

For the barest of moments, Jessye thought she detected regret in his eyes before his smile returned. “I imagine that was for the best.” He looked to Harry. “You still gonna join us tonight?”

“No, I’ve decided you’ve taken enough.”

“It was good to see you, Jessye.” He winked. “You keep tellin’ people you’re just herdin’ cattle. Hell, lookin’ like that, maybe you are.”

He started walking away. She took a step toward him, and Harry jerked her back against his side. “Let him go. What in God’s name possessed you to fall in love with that?”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t like that before the war. He was sweet—” Blinking back the tears burning her eyes, she bit her knuckle to keep herself from saying more. She swung around. “What possessed you to say I was your fiancée?”

“Haven’t a clue, but it seemed the thing to say at the time. Besides, I thought it might offer you a little
protection from the lust emanating from him.”

She snorted. “Lust? The way I’m lookin’? He was right. No man would want me.”

“It’s your spirit that attracts men. You could be covered from head to toe in mud, and men would find you attractive.”

“Desperate men, maybe. And that’s the last thing I want. That and you gambling away my money.”

“When he invited me to play, I didn’t realize who he was. You never told me his last name…” Harrison shrugged. “It’s just as well. We have a party to attend this evening.”

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened. “What?”

Harry looked at her casually. “You were there when Kit mentioned that he wanted to visit with the Robertsons. As it turns out, they’re hosting a small party this evening, and we’ve been invited.”

With her heart pounding, Jessye took a step back. “I don’t have a dress to wear.”

“I realize that. I assumed you were on your way to find a seamstress. You knew Kit planned for us to visit—”

“I knew you and Kit planned to visit them. I didn’t know you meant for me to go.” She released a nervous burst of laughter. “Besides, a seamstress can’t make a dress in a day.”

“For someone as small as you, she could no doubt make it in an afternoon, which she will need to do, since we have to be there at seven.”

“I’m sure the invitation didn’t include me.”

“I’m certain that it did.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I’ve got nothing to wear, and I’m not spending our supply money on
a dress just to impress some rich folks.” She shoved her way past him, heading back to her room. Suddenly, she was grateful that they were only spending one night in Dallas. So far, she thought the town should be more aptly named Hell.

As though he handled a newborn babe, Harry pulled the wooden box out of his bag. He ran his fingers over the carving that reflected his family’s coat of arms. He lifted the lid and smiled at the pair of dueling pistols housed inside. The box and pistols had been a gift from his grandfather.

With his palm, he cupped one of the pistols. He’d like to use it to send Gerald Milton to hell. But these Texans knew little of the proper way of dueling.

Besides, the pistols were of more value if left inside the box. Gently, he closed the lid, relishing the distinct, audible click.

A man could be hurt in many ways. His mother had taught him that physical pain resulted in the least anguish, the memories of the agony diminishing over time—but emotional pain could last forever, the torment increasing as moments passed into years.

He’d seen the pain reflected in Jessye’s eyes when she’d first caught sight of Gerald Milton. He would find a way to ease her suffering even if it cost him his life.

Jessye lay on her side, her knees almost touching her chest, curled as she imagined her child had been as she grew inside her. She didn’t know what had possessed her to tell Gerald that the baby had died. Maybe she’d feared that he wouldn’t care that their
daughter had lived and that Jessye had been forced to give her up. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted her shortcomings to be viewed through his eyes.

Had she been stronger, more independent, maybe now she would enjoy her child’s smiles and wipe away her tears. She could only pray that she’d been right to give her to the couple at the mission, could only hope that her child was well and truly loved.

A hard tap on her door brought her out of her reverie and self-pity. She despised these weakened moments when she doubted the actions she’d taken four years before. She’d done what she thought was best at the time. She gained little in looking back.

She swung her legs off the bed, crossed the room, and flung open the door. A woman stood before her, her silvering hair pulled back so tightly that it caused the skin across her face to tauten, giving her face a skeletal appearance. The woman hugged a brown package against her chest.

“Are you Jessye Kane?” she asked.

Jessye furrowed her brow and hesitated before responding. “Yes.”

“Good,” the woman snapped and walked briskly into the room. “I’m Gwen Harper. We haven’t much time.” She dropped the package on the bed and untied the string.

“Much time to do what?”

Gwen Harper folded back the brown paper and spread the most beautiful green material Jessye had ever seen across the bed. “Sew your gown.”

Jessye stepped back. “My gown?”

Gwen looked over her shoulder. “The gown you’re going to wear to the Robertsons’ party tonight.”

Jessye shook her head. “I’m not going to the Robertsons’ party.”

The woman knitted her brows together. “Mr. Bainbridge said you were. He told me to make you a proper gown to wear for this evening. He suggested the emerald silk, and I can certainly understand why. With your green eyes and red hair—”

“I am not spending my money on an outfit I’m only gonna wear one night—”

“Mr. Bainbridge has already purchased it.”

Instinctively, Jessye pressed her hand to the hidden pouch that circled her waist beneath her clothes. Thank God, she still felt the pouch bulging. Harry hadn’t found a way to pilfer her money. “What did he use to buy it?”

“Lincoln skins.”

Jessye stared at the woman, wondering where Harry had managed to latch on to Yankee money. She scolded herself. There was no longer a division between the states or the currency. Confederate money was useless. All they had was Yankee money, simply money, but accepting that reality was hard for some folks.

“Now, come on, we ain’t got much time before my daughter gets here to fix your hair—”

“Mrs. Harper, I am not going to the Robertsons’—”

“But you’ve been invited. They’re nice people and generous to the town, but not everyone gets an invite.” She took a step and leaned over slightly as though imparting a secret. “They’re richer than Midas, and their brick house is the most beautiful in the area, surrounded by so many oak trees you can barely see it. Some folks say they got an oak lawn.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” a deep voice boomed behind her. She spun around and glared at Harry. “And you will,” he finished.

“Where did you get money?” she whispered harshly, fearing he’d stolen it. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that the English picked money out of people’s pockets? With Harry’s deft fingers—

“Mrs. Harper, could you give us a moment alone?” Harry asked.

The woman glanced at the watch pinned just above her heart. “My girls will be here soon to help me sew, but we’re barely gonna have time to get this gown made as it is. If I don’t get it cut out—”

“One moment. That’s all I need.”

Mrs. Harper hurried past him, and Harry clicked the door shut. Jessye took a step back. She didn’t fear him, but the impropriety of being in a hostelry room alone with a man, a bed only a few feet away…“What have you done? Where did you get the money?”

“I bartered away my grandfather’s dueling pistols.”

Her heart battered against her chest. She’d seen the pistols when he’d offered to let Grayson Rhodes use them in a duel against Abbie Westland’s husband. She’d never seen a finer pair of guns. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. “But why purchase me a gown? Why not use the money for that poker game—”

“Because life is a game of chance. Every decision involves some risk. The magnitude of the return should always either equal or exceed the magnitude of the risk.” He crossed the room, and she watched
as he fingered the satiny material. “My grandfather’s words. He would not have approved of me trading his pistols for a game of poker where I could stack the odds in my favor.” A smile touched his lips. “But he would have approved of this venture, which has so damned little chance of success.”

He spun around. “I told you that Kit has concerns regarding our financial situation. We are driving more cattle than he anticipated; we’ve had to hire more men than he originally planned, which means the purchase of more supplies. You know what our money situation is like. It may become necessary to add an investor in order to gain what we need. Robertson thinks our cattle venture is doomed to failure. We must convince him otherwise. You are Kit’s partner. It’s imperative that Robertson meet you.”

“I hate parties.”

“We won’t stay long. Once you’ve taken a measure of each other, you and I will be free to leave.”

“And if this David Robertson finds me lacking?”

His gaze slowly traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her soiled boots. She hated his scrutiny but refused to cower before it. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his emerald gaze met hers. “If I thought for one second that his finding you lacking was a possibility, I would have never traded the one thing in my life that I ever treasured.”

He stalked across the room and jerked open the door. “I shall knock at precisely seven o’clock. Be ready.”