Taming of Jessi Rose (14 page)

“Hey, are you still with me?”

Jessi was brought back to the present by his soft teasing voice. She shook herself free of her brooding thoughts. “I'm sorry. Yes, I'm still here.”

“Do we need to talk about last night?”

Her eyes met his gaze. “I don't know, do we?”

“Should I apologize?”

“No, that isn't necessary. But…can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Why do I feel like I wasn't supposed to be enjoying what we did last night?”

He searched her eyes and saw nothing but openness and honesty reflected there. He chose his answer carefully. “Because society puts a lot of fences around women, and not enjoying yourself is supposed to be one of them.”

“So is enjoying it wrong?”

He shrugged. “I don't think so, but I'm a train robber, not a philosopher or a theologian. I guess every lady has to make up her own mind.”

Jessi supposed he was right, but her questions were still unanswered.

“
Did
you enjoy last night?” he asked her then.

“My answer will only swell your head.”

“I take it that means you did.”

“I'm not answering you, Griffin Blake.”

Her smile gave him all the answers he needed. “Good, I'm glad. Maybe we can do it again sometime soon.” His manner turned serious then, and he reached out and traced her mouth. “Never apologize for enjoying what you feel.” He kissed her softly but soundly, then turned her loose. “So, what do you have planned for today?”

Still feeling the echoes of the kiss, she found it took a moment for her mind to get moving again. “I should probably go to town and speak with Joth's teacher, Mr. Trent, about Joth taking his lessons at home. I'm fairly certain he'll favor the decision. He likes Joth a lot.”

“Need an escort?”

“I'd love one.”

A
s they prepared to leave, Jessi hoped her concern about leaving the house unguarded didn't show in her face because she didn't want to worry Joth. Hiding her feelings from Griffin turned out to be a bit more difficult.

“Worried about Darcy's men paying the house a visit while we're gone?”

She glanced over at him as she tightened the cinch on her saddle. He'd only been with them a little while but it seemed he was learning her all too well.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “But since Darcy won't know we're coming into town, I'm counting on there not being enough time for him to send somebody out here before we get back.”

Griff agreed with her logic, but he wanted to banish Darcy from her life once and for all. She shouldn't have to worry about whether or not her home would still be standing when she returned from town. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that things around her would be changing soon, but Jessi was the kind of woman who needed to see action, not hear words, so he kept what he had to say inside.

The sight of Joth leading his beloved Buttercup from the barn signaled it was time to go.

“Me and Buttercup are ready. Aunt Jessi.”

“Okay, then, let's head out. You and Buttercup lead the way.”

The mounted Jessi and Griffin followed Joth out to the road.

When Jessi taught school in Vale nearly a decade ago, there'd been no schoolhouse. All learning had taken place in the field behind Doyle Keel's blacksmith shop. Now the students were taught in the church. A few years back, there'd been talk about building a real school, but with all the uncertainty facing the town's future, the idea had been dropped.

As they rode slowly down the dusty main street, Jessi did her best to ignore the people stopping on the walk and in the doorways of the businesses to stare at the three riders from the Clayton ranch. Because of the ill feelings her presence usually aroused she rarely came to Vale. She was certain that by the time she reached the church everybody in town would be aware of her arrival. Without a doubt the smug-faced women on the walks would be whispering behind their hands, but she kept her eyes focused straight ahead and did not increase her mount's pace.

A woman's loud voice rang out, “Go home, you whore!”

“Yeah, get out of town unless you're coming to sell your land!” a man chimed in.

“Sell your land, whore!”

A furious Griffin turned in his saddle to try and identify the taunters but could not. All of the faces looked the same: hateful, suspicious. He turned back to Jessi to gauge her reaction. She was sitting ramrod straight in the saddle and refused to meet his eyes. Only the defiant raising of her chin let him know she'd felt the barbs.

The anger tightening Joth's mouth and shoulders showed that he'd been affected too, making Griff won
der if the Claytons were forced to endure this foul-mouthing every time they came into town. If so, he thought it about time someone made it stop. Looking out at the faces lining the walks once more, the fuming Griff decided he'd follow Jessi's lead in dealing with the good citizens of Vale for now, but he wouldn't put up with them slurring her for very much longer.

When they entered the church, Mr. Trent was pleased to see Jessi and Joth and excused himself from the silent, staring students to speak with them. Trent was a short, round man with a ready smile, and he nodded politely when Jessi introduced him to Griff. While Trent and Jessi discussed the lessons Joth needed to master while at home, Griff and Joth waited outside.

“Do the folks around here always treat your aunt this way?”

“Yep,” Joth replied softly. “That's the reason we don't come to town much. Aunt Jessi says it doesn't bother her, but I don't think she's telling the truth.”

Griff didn't think so either. Regardless of how the folks around here felt about Jessi Clayton, she had feelings. She'd also endured a mountain of hell in her life and she deserved better.

“Do you think you can make them leave her alone?” Joth asked, looking up at Griffin solemnly.

“I'm going to try my best, cowboy,” Griff pledged gravely.

Joth nodded and his voice became distant. “Sometimes, at night, when she thinks I'm asleep, she cries. I don't like it when she cries.”

Griff didn't like hearing that either. It reminded him of another woman long ago. She too had cried in response to the terrible hand life had dealt her way. Griff still carried her memory and his grief deep in his heart. “Well, you did the right thing writing to Marshal Wildhorse for help.”

Joth turned and stared. “How'd you know about that?”

“He's the one who sent me.”

Joth's eyes widened.

“But you have to keep it a secret for now. Think you can do that?”

“Golly, yeah! Does Aunt Jessi know the marshal sent you?”

“Yes.”

Joth smiled and said, “Good.”

Her business with Joth's teacher now complete, Jessi said her good-byes and went out to join Griffin and Joth.

As they mounted for the ride home, Joth asked, “Did Mr. Trent say it was okay for me to have school at home?”

“Yes he did, and he gave me enough lessons to take you through the summer.”

Joth did't look happy so Jessi added, “Joth, I know how much you enjoy coming to school, but I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“I know.”

Jessi added one more negative mark to Reed Darcy's slate. Although there were some children at the school who gave Joth a hard time, he did have a few friends and she knew he would miss them dearly. “What can I do to cheer you up?”

“Let me beat you at marbles when we get home.”

Jessi smiled. “But if I
let
you win, where's the victory in that?”

Joth never got a chance to reply, because as they rode slowly by the Darcy Hotel, they all quieted at the sight of the lone rider who stood waiting for them in the middle of the street. Jessi recognized Clem Davis immediately and her manner turned grim. “Joth, you and Buttercup drop back behind me and Griffin.”

Without a word, Joth did as he was told.

Griffin also recognized the man. “What's a yellow belly like Percy West doing here in Vale?”

Never taking her eyes off of her enemy, Jessi said, “Percy West? Here, he's Clem Davis, the man who killed my father.”

A shocked Griff stared at her cold eyes for a moment, then turned his attention to the man he knew as Percy West and his anger at this town grew even larger. He'd met West some years back, up in Cooperwater, Montana. Griffin and a few friends had been in the town, resting up after a particularly lucrative robbery, when the nineteen-year-old West and his gang of young outlaws rode in and began terrorizing the local citizens. Griffin and his friends had to convince the gang to prey elsewhere, but not before Percy's seventeen-year-old brother Zeke shot and killed a six-year-old boy. Although Zeke swore the killing had been an accident, he did hang for the deed. Griff doubted the swinging did much to mend the mother's broken heart.

Jessi could see folks on the streets watching with much interest, but she had no plans to give them a show. She'd let Davis say whatever Darcy had sent him out here to say and then she, Griff and Joth would head home.

“Afternoon, Miss Clayton,” Davis said, as they brought their horses to a halt. His young, ferret-thin face sneered smugly at Jessi as he sucked on a toothpick. She supposed his blocking the street was another one of his attempts to intimidate her, but since it was daylight and she didn't have her back to him, she was fairly certain she had little to fear.

When she didn't reply to his greeting, he turned his attention to Griffin and gave him a small smile of recognition. “Mr. Darcy told me you were in town.”

Griffin's smile did not reach his eyes. “Well, if it isn't
Percy
. Thought you'd've gotten religion by now. Last
time I saw you, you were hightailing it out of Montana so fast, you didn't even have time stay for your brother's trial.”

The sneering lip curled. “The name's Davis. Clem Davis.”

“No, the name's Percy,” Griff corrected him with a dangerous glint in his faceted eyes. “Percy West. Does Darcy know you're not using your real name?”

Clem didn't reply.

“Miss Clayton seems to think you shot her pa in the back. That true?”

Davis put on his most innocent face. “I wasn't there that night.”

Griffin didn't believe him for a moment and wanted to drag him behind a horse until he told the truth.

Without taking his eyes off of Davis, Griff told Jessi, “A few years back Percy here and some of his friends were running roughshod over a town up in Montana. Percy's brother Zeke shot a six-year-old boy in the back. He hung for it.”

“The boy had no business being on the street that day.”

“He was running for cover when you started shooting up that bank.”

Davis looked away as if he didn't want to acknowledge the truthfulness of Griff's account. “Zeke was drunk.”

“Jury didn't seem to think that was much of an excuse. Neither do I.”

Griffin almost relished the thought of going up against West again. In his mind Percy still owed for that boy's death even if he hadn't been the one directly responsible. “Is Darcy paying you enough to tangle with me again, Percy?”

Davis growled, “Quit calling me that, and yeah, he is. Offering me double pay to get rid of you.”

“Good. Better start saving it up so you can buy a good casket. I'm sure the undertaker'll be glad to help you pick one out.”

“Better pick one out for yourself, Kid. Too bad those redskin friends of yours won't be here to share it with you though.”

Griff eyed the young outlaw up and down. West was referring to Two Shafts and Neil July. They had been with Griff during that time in Montana. Two Shafts was part Comanche and Neil was a member of the Black Seminole tribe. Griff hated the word
redskins
. The slur incensed him just as much as the word
nigger.

In a falsely pleasant voice, Griff replied, “Funny you should mention them. They'll be here in a few days.”

The light-skinned West went visibly pale.

“Yep,” Griff added watching West fight and fail to regain his composure. “Two Shafts and his twin brother Neil are going to be real glad to see you.”

Griff hoped the news put the fear of God in West. Two Shafts and Neil were known as the Terrible Twins, and it was a name well earned. Griff could tell by West's furtive eyes that this scenario was not unfolding as West had planned. West was a mercenary. His services and his gun were hired out to the highest bidder, and only rarely did men like him meet resistance. “You sure Darcy's paying you enough for all this, Percy?”

“Dammit, stop calling me that!” he snapped like a whining child.

Jessi hid her grin. Percy was not the most manly name for a hired gun. It seemed a far more suitable moniker for the son of one of the English barons who'd been buying up Texas's cattle land for the past ten years. Her amusement at his expense only went so far, however. She'd had enough of him for today. “If we're all done chatting, I need to get home.”

Griff told her “I'm ready whenever you are, Miss Clayton.”

Jessi then asked West, “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, Mr. Darcy wants him out of town. The sooner, the better”

“Tell him I don't care what he wants,” Jessi responded quietly.

As they turned the reins of their horses to guide them around West, both Jessi and Griff saw West give a quick look up to a window of the hotel. Reed Darcy stood behind the glass. His anger showed plainly.

Griff waved up at him and Darcy snatched the drapes closed in sharp reply. Wondering who would make her smile when he left for Mexico, Jessi shook her head at Griffin's nose-tweaking ways and headed them up the street.

West called out angrily, “Watch your back, Blake!”

Griff didn't even bother turning around. “With you in town, I'd be a fool not to. See you around, Percy!”

Once they left the outskirts of town, everyone seemed to relax. When Joth asked to ride on ahead, Jessi gave him her permission, but only after cautioning him to stay within her sight.

After he galloped off, Jessi looked over at Griffin. “Our friend Percy looked positively ill when you told him about the arrival of your friends.”

“And well he should be. They're known as the Terrible Twins, and they live up to the name, but they're good men to have on our side”

“Were they with you when that boy was killed?”

“Yep They were as mad about it as the jury. The boy was coming home from school when Zeke and a few of his drunken buddies tried to shoot their way into the town's bank. The boy scrambled for cover but he wasn't fast enough. Broke that poor mother's heart.”

Jessi's own heart wrenched. It did not surprise her to
learn that the man she'd come to know as Clem Davis was no stranger to the sort of violence that had resulted in her father's death. Knowing that the man responsible for the boy's death had been brought to justice buoyed her somewhat. Now if she could only bring about justice for her father.

When they reached the ranch, Joth ran in to get his marbles. In preparation for their weekly contest, Jessi used a stick to draw an oval in the dirt of the empty corral while she waited for her nephew to return.

Griff, seated on the top rung of the fence, asked, “Do you really play marbles?”

“Do you really rob trains?”

Jessi was walking around the oval she'd drawn to make sure it was evenly rendered. “I've always loved it. There's something about watching a boy's face crumple when I win away his favorites,”

Griff grinned “Cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“Not cocky. Good. Do you play?”

“Haven't in years. I was pretty good, though”