Authors: Lawless
It wasn’t that she never felt uncertainty. She did, all the time. Uncertainty and fear. But she’d learned to cover it up, to push it into a corner of her mind, as she did now. As she pushed away the knowledge that her Odysseus was really a paid gunslinger.
But she could not entirely dismiss that fact or another one. By either name—Jess or Lobo—he was as elusive as the wolf he called himself. She realized she could never hold a man like him, nor could anyone, just as Penelope could never hold her Odysseus, but like Penelope she would take what she could and treasure it, making memories to cherish in years to come.
She dressed quickly, determined to find some way to spend time with him alone. The examinations would be Friday, and she would dismiss class early that day to give her students time to study. And then she would find a way.
Willow wasn’t surprised that he didn’t join them for breakfast. Chad, who went out to call him, returned crestfallen, saying that Jess just wanted some bread and butter and that he’d eat in the barn. To Willow’s surprise, Estelle volunteered to take it. Brady kept his eyes on his plate, but Willow saw the muscles in his jaw tighten, and she wondered why.
Willow would have liked to take it herself, but she was too startled and pleased at Estelle’s offer. Two weeks earlier Estelle would never have made such an offer, would have, instead, hidden in her room at the thought. She looked at Estelle more carefully, noticing other changes. The fine blond hair had been brushed carefully, and some of the tight, pinched look was gone from her face.
Willow saw the startled look in Brady’s eyes and knew he’d noticed something different too. There was something else about him, a protectiveness she hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll go with you,” he said suddenly, and Estelle smiled shyly and nodded.
Well, well, well, Willow thought. Somehow Jess’s presence was making more than a few changes around there. She wondered if he had any idea how he was affecting the whole household. As far as she could tell, Brady had not had another drink since the day he left to find Jupiter. He already looked healthier, and his steps had more spring. Estelle looked almost pretty, and her cooking had certainly improved. Chad, who had also been wary of most strangers, was full of eagerness for each new day; even his studies had improved. Sallie Sue openly adored the new arrival, and the twins, well, the twins were probably the least affected. They had always been enough for each other, chortling over their own secrets and staying within their own charmed circle. But even they had shown new willingness to do chores when the stranger was around. They too, it seemed, wanted his approval. The barest nod seemed to please all her brood except Brady.
She knew Jess had no idea what he had done in a matter of days, and that was incredibly sad to her.
Willow was startled when, after she and the twins climbed aboard the buckboard, Jess rode up on his pinto. “I’m going along with you,” he announced stiffly. “There’s some things I need in town.”
Willow’s gaze met his. They were as startling a turquoise as ever, and as indecipherable. She nodded, too surprised to speak.
“I’ll ride on ahead,” he continued, “and meet you on the other side of the rise.”
There was nothing ominous in his voice, yet she felt a shiver of fear run up her spine. She thought about Sullivan’s visit, and the way he had asked where Lobo was. The question had surprised her, for she knew he didn’t approve of the gunman, and especially of him staying there. She had half feared he’d tried to convince Jess to leave. Now she wondered. She knew her eyes reflected the question, but she received no answer, only a steady stare, before he turned the pinto away and left a trail of dust in his wake.
On the way she saw him on and off in the distance, moving quickly as if looking for something. She wondered what he needed in town and whether he had any money or should she have offered some of the little they had. He’d obviously given up a lucrative offer from Alex, and she’d always heard that men in his profession never kept money for long. He certainly didn’t appear to have much; she’d never seen more than two shirts, although he’d kept them scrupulously clean. The only things of value he seemed to have was the horse, pistol, and rifle, the rifle obviously fine and well maintained, the wood glowing when the sun hit the stock.
She owed him some wages, but she had the feeling his pride would be wounded if she offered them.
He’d disappeared as they approached town, and she knew he didn’t want her to be seen with him. She ached inside with that knowledge, that he felt he would hurt her by being seen with her. Then she smiled as she thought how proud she’d be to sit next to him, to be at his side. No matter what he thought of himself, she’d never met more of a man.
She didn’t see him again in town. As she’d planned, she released school early. All the children from outlying ranches had their own horses, and she knew they’d have no problem getting home.
The sun was still high in the sky when she reached the ranch. She noticed Jess and Brady digging holes outside the fence that surrounded the house and garden, and she wondered what they were doing. She’d find out soon enough. She saw Jess look up at the sound of the wagon, his glance fixed on her for several seconds before returning to what he was doing.
Her curiosity piqued, she dismounted from the wagon as the twins started to unhitch the horse, and she made her way over to Brady and Jess. Her glance quickly took in the package next to a hole.
Jess’s eyes seemed to measure her. “None of the kids are to go outside this fence,” he said curtly.
“What…?”
“Dynamite,” he said, watching her face carefully, his eyes still cold.
“Dynamite?”
“Either Brady, Chad, or I will be here to keep the younger kids away,” he said. He pointed to a piece of red cloth on the ground about ten feet away. “Everyplace there’s a piece of red cloth, there’s dynamite just a little dust underneath.
“But—”
“You want to stay? There’s only one way to do it. Fight back. You ready for that?”
She looked at Brady, whose grim expression didn’t waver. “He’s right, Willow. Alex’s men will be back, and this time they’ll be prepared.”
Willow felt sick. She’d never thought it would go this far. Did she want men to die for a piece of land? Even this piece of land? Even her home?
“If everything goes according to plan, no one should get hurt, but the explosions will scare the hell out of them,” Brady said with reluctant admiration. “The dynamite can be detonated by”—Brady hesitated a moment before turning toward his companion—“By…his rifle. That’s why the red pieces of cloth are there.”
“But if they come at night?”
Jess shrugged. “I placed each bundle of dynamite at the same angle from a fence post. I’ll be able to estimate in the moonlight, though it might take me an extra shot or two.”
Willow looked at his face. There was no pride in the statement, no arrogance. It was said as a matter of fact, although she couldn’t imagine it being possible. She looked over at Brady and watched his expression, surprised to see the belief there.
“If anyone walks…”
Lobo shook his head. “It would take more than that. A gunshot or something very heavy, like a wagon. Even then I doubt it would ignite. It needs a direct hit. All the same, I want the kids to stay away.”
She nodded. “Are you almost through?”
“Two more,” he said. “Then I’ll take a look at the garden, see if we can plow a ditch from the river. It’s a long shot, and the crop’s almost dead, but it’s worth a try.”
Once again Willow could barely believe everything Jess had accomplished. The barn was finished, the corral strengthened, the dynamite purchased and planted. Now the garden. Did he ever stop? And what about food? An idea started forming in her mind.
“I’ll go with you to the river,” she said quickly. “I know exactly the place to run a ditch.”
He looked at her dubiously. So did Brady.
“I’ll be only a few minutes. Brady, can you saddle the horse?”
He eyed her suspiciously. “I can go.”
“No, I need to get away for a little while.” She gave him her most pleading smile.
She
did
need to get away. Brady knew that. Between the school and the ranch and her adopted family, she never had any time to herself. He’d complained of that frequently. He could hardly refuse now. Yet he couldn’t help feeling he shouldn’t leave those two alone, not when he felt the raw, vibrant attraction between them, not when he noticed the way their eyes met and didn’t waver. His only comfort was the look of dismay on Lobo’s face.
Willow didn’t wait for an answer, or approval, or consent. She dashed to the house and up the stairs to change into the dress with the fullest skirt and her boots. She didn’t have a sidesaddle, and she barely knew how to ride. Brady had tried to teach her, but she hadn’t been a very good pupil. She would probably disgrace herself. But she didn’t care. A few moments alone with Jess, perhaps even longer. That was worth almost anything.
She quickly twisted her hair into one long braid, then stopped at the kitchen to carefully place some fresh bread and cheese and a canteen of water into a sack.
When she arrived back at the corral, Jess was standing impatiently, a scowl on his face. But Willow’s one riding horse was saddled and waiting, and, after only a brief pause, Jess strode over to her, offering his cupped hands to help her mount.
Willow put her hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath the shirt, the heat of his skin reaching through the cloth, and she was unable to move for several seconds, reluctant to lose the intimate contact with him. But then she put her left foot in his hands and let him boost her up into the saddle so easily, she might have been a feather.
She was pleased that Betsy, named by old Jake, was elderly and easygoing, but even then she felt at a terrible disadvantage. She’d never seen anyone ride as well as Jess. But Willow stiffened her back, and with one hand on the reins and the other clutching the saddle horn as well as the bundle that Jess eyed curiously, she kicked Betsy into an awkward trot toward the well-worn path to the river.
It had been a cattle trail when Jake used to have a herd, and it was the path Gar used when his creek went dry. The river was only a quarter of a mile away, and there was a shady patch of cottonwoods nearby where on Sundays she would sometimes take the children for a picnic.
They rode in silence, Jess obviously concentrating on controlling the pinto, which danced skittishly, wanting, she supposed, to chase the wind as she had seen them do several days earlier. She was glad he purposely kept his eyes turned from her, for she felt awkward and ungainly. She knew the calves of her legs were showing and that her skirt was bunched awkwardly around her thighs. Yet nothing could dim the pleasure of being with him, of riding next to him, even when he was glowering, as he was then.
When they reached the river, she turned north and showed him where Gar watered his cattle. Jess would have to build his ditch farther away, or it could quickly be trampled and destroyed. They moved slowly up the river to the stand of trees.
Jess stopped and studied the terrain. It went slightly downhill toward the Taylor ranch. “Ever have any floods?” he said.
“Not as long as I’ve been here,” she replied. “But I heard there was a bad one about eight years ago.”
“The river flows south,” he said. “If we try to plow a ditch, we’ll have to dam just below here to send water toward your garden.
“That would cut off Alex,” she said.
His lips moved in a mirthless grin. “Exactly.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Perhaps we can solve two problems.”
She looked at him. His eyes were suddenly alive with an idea, and his countenance was not as cold, not as forbidding as usual “I…don’t think I understand.”
“This is your land. You can do what you want with it?”
“I—I suppose so.”
“If we build a dam, then we can get water to your crop—and have a bargaining tool.”
Willow didn’t miss the “we,” and she felt a rush of pleasure. “Alex will be furious.”
Jess shrugged. “He already is.”
“But can just the few of us do it?”
“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully as he eyed the river. It was low now, its bed wide. “We’d have to cut down some of your trees so they would fall over the riverbed and then stuff the cracks with mud and grass. We can use some of the dynamite we have left to dig the ditch to your garden.”
The dynamite. Willow’s attention changed direction. “Where did you get it?”
“The general store,” he said. “I suppose they supply the mines west of here.”
“But the money—”
His mouth tightened. “I didn’t ask you for any, did I?”
“But—”
His mouth crooked in as close to a smile as she’d seen. “Thank Newton. Expenses he paid me.”
“But—”
“Look,” he said, cutting off the expected protest. “He lied to me. No one lies to me. I told him that, right at the beginning. He owed me. For that matter, he owes you for all the trouble he’s causing.”
Willow stared at him, at the lean, bronze face that was almost like a sculpture in its implacable harshness. His eyes, which showed traces of excitement moments earlier, were still now, watchful and waiting. Shivers ran up and down her spine as he regarded her levelly, almost as if he were testing her.