Taming of Jessi Rose (28 page)

Doyle grinned. “I don't think so, Laz.”

“Well, find him and tell him.”

And he left.

Doyle and Two Shafts began to laugh. Jessi rolled her eyes.

Upstairs, Griffin was engaged in a different kind of brawl, and ironically enough, the victim was also a Darcy. It seemed Reed was not as expert at poker as he believed himself to be, at least not when playing against Griffin. Stacked in front of the train robber were numerous piles of bills, gold eagles, double eagles, and octagonal-shaped slugs, most of which came out of the pockets of Darcy and his friends. Stacked in front of Reed, nothing. Word had it that when Reed had begun losing heavily, he'd sent somebody over to the bank to get more money to cover his last bets, but it hadn't mattered, Griffin had taken that too.

Jessi and Two Shafts entered the smoky silent room where the poker was being played and Jessi felt the tension immediately. Neil tipped over and very quietly related what was going on.

“Is Griffin really that good?” Jessi asked, looking at the gold stacked in front of her favorite train robber.

“Darcy and his friends will be lucky to still have their drawers on when Cheno is done with them.”

Jessi scanned the room. There were many familiar faces among the men ringing the room, like the glow
ering Percy West, but many that were not. She assumed that the few well-dressed White men looking on intently were investor friends of Darcy's. By some of the accents she could hear as they whispered back and forth, it was quite obvious that most were from England. Englishmen and other foreigners began flocking to Texas and buying up ranches back in '82, but they didn't seem to know a lot about cattle ranching. Rustlers preyed upon them mercilessly and most went broke during the hard winter of '84 and the drought of '85. She'd heard that many of the English had returned home because of the losses, leaving behind towns with names like Shamrock, Wellington, and Clarendon.

Jessi wondered if the Englishmen were throwing in with Reed Darcy on the railroad scheme in an attempt to offset those losses. The land around Vale would be lucrative if the railroad and Darcy were successful in their attempts to gain control, but they'd have to go through her first.

Neil's prophecy proved correct. Griffin fleeced Reed and his guests like spring sheep, and as the game lengthened and the stakes soared higher, more and more people began squeezing into the room to watch.

Jessi noted that Griffin played decisively, and that his cards never showed on his handsome face. A few of the Englishmen left the table, enraged not only by their losing, but by the former outlaw's expertise. His prowess at poker far exceeded their own and he had a pile of gold and notes stacked in front of him to prove it.

It was quite obvious to the onlookers that none of the men at the table had any business cutting cards with Griffin, especially Reed. The more he lost, the angrier he became and the more recklessly he played. During the late stages of the game, the third-to-last player folded, leaving Griffin and Reed to play on alone. Reed had lost a substantial amount of money, money Jessi
hoped he had because Griffin played poker like a man with a gift.

To aid Reed, some of his friends began staking him as the calls went higher and higher. They smugly assumed Griffin would not be able to match the amounts, but he had more than enough winnings to keep himself afloat, especially after Neil slapped the old carpet bag on the table. Auntie slapped some gold on the table for Griffin too, as did Doyle and the old doctor.

As it turned out, Griffin didn't need the support of his friends. When the last hand ended, you could hear a pin drop.

Griffin gathered up the cards and set them aside. “Well, Mr. Darcy. I believe you owe me roughly fifteen thousand dollars.”

The sum was astronomical, even for someone as wealthy as Reed. He looked stunned. Not only had he lost his own funds, but he'd squandered the hundreds he'd borrowed from his well-heeled friends. Jessi didn't believe any of them could afford to loose that much money.

“Deal another hand,” Darcy demanded angrily. “You owe me a chance to make good.”

“I gave you that chance an hour ago, remember?”

He had, and everyone in the room knew it. He'd owed Griffin ten thousand then, but instead of bowing out gracefully, Reed's pride had kept him playing and he'd gone another five thousand in the hole.

“There's no way I'm going to pay you fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Why not?” Griffin asked coolly. “Can't you back your bets?”

It was a double-edged question. Any answer Reed gave would land him in hot water.

Griffin waited, as did everyone else gathered around.

Jessi watched Reed glance around the room, and when
his eyes settled on hers, she met his gaze without emotion.

“Pay the man his money or your word won't be worth a dime anywhere,” one of the Englishmen warned.

“Shut up!” Reed's replied angrily. “Stay out of this.”

Was he going to have to admit he couldn't cover the bets?
Jessi wondered.

“All right,” Darcy finally relented. “I'm a bit short of cash right now. What else will you accept?”

The crowd began to buzz.

Griffin said, “Well, let's see. How about this? You turn over all the mortgages you've called in for the last, oh let's say, two years, and I'll consider the debt paid.”

Reed's jaw dropped, and so did Jessi's. Those in town who'd lost their mortgages had been leasing their land from the Darcy bank at prices so high, the payments left them little money for much else. Some of them were also in the room, and seemed as bowled over as Reed.

“That's out of the question!” Reed stormed.

“Then I want my money. Now.”

“You can't expect me to pay it to you right at this moment!”

“Why not? Had I lost, you would be demanding the same.”

He was right, and Reed and everyone else knew it.

Jessi eyed Reed's friends. They too were watching the tense situation unfold. Some looked genuinely displeased with this turn of events, but she couldn't determine whether their displeasure was aimed at Reed's handling of their stakes or at his waffling on paying the debt.

Then she heard one of the Englishmen mutter, “I should've known better than to invest in a bloody coon,” and she had her answer.

As if someone had given the foreigners a silent signal, they all began saying their good-byes.

“Hey, wait,” Reed exclaimed, rising from his chair. “Aren't we still meeting later?”

“No,” one of the Englishmen replied pointedly. “It's obvious that you've problems here, Darcy. My investment group will let you know what we decide later on in the week.”

Darcy tried to charm them. “Now, hold on, you aren't going to pull up stakes over a little poker game, are you? I can cover the amount, believe me, I can.”

The men did not seem convinced. “We'll be in touch. Oh, and when we do, we expect you to have
all
your ducks in a row.”

And they filed out.

Darcy dropped back into his chair like a sack of meal. One of the men who clerked in the bank made a move as if to say something, but Reed barked, “I don't need or want your opinion. Go to the bank and get the deeds.”

The clerk's jaw tightened, but he did as he was told.

When the man departed, Reed stood and said to Griffin, “I'm sure you'll understand why I don't want to sit here and look at you until he returns. I'll be at my hotel.”

Without uttering another word, he forcefully pushed past the folks gathered around and left the room. Percy and his men exited right behind their boss. For a moment there was silence, and then a man in the back asked hesitantly, “What are you going to do with the deeds, Blake?”

Griffin grinned. “Why, turn them back over to their owners, of course.”

The room erupted with cheers. Jessi went to his side, and couldn't remember ever being so pleased.

Reed's clerk returned less than an hour later and
handed the deeds over to Griffin. With the glowering Percy West at his side, the clerk then announced, “Mr. Darcy wants everyone out of
his
saloon immediately. Any stragglers will be shot on sight for trespassing.”

He stormed out.

Auntie came over and shook Griffin's hand. “Thanks, Griffin. Even though Darcy's closing down my party, I can't complain. The look on his face when you asked him to pay up is something I'll take to my grave.”

People began leaving and a grinning Neil July told Griffin, “You know, you ruined Darcy's evening.”

“Can't take you anywhere,” Two Shafts kidded.

With Jessi by his side, Griffin ignored his friends for a moment and announced to the departing crowd, “You folks can see about these deeds tomorrow at the Clayton ranch.”

Many of those in the room paused and looked warily over at Jessi, who returned their looks without comment.

“This ain't over Blake,” Percy promised as the Clayton clan passed him by.

“No, it isn't, Percy,” Griff replied. “We'll see you soon.”

“What a game!” Jessi exclaimed as they stepped out into cool night air and struck out toward the buckboard. They noticed that everyone seemed to be taking Reed's threats seriously. Folks were not tarrying.

“Yes, it was.”

“I told you Cheno would take their drawers, Miss Jessi,” Neil declared. “He even got a deed to some old Scottish castle as part of the winnings from one of those barons.”

“What a Black train robber's going to do with a castle in Scotland is anyone's guess,” Griffin cracked. He noticed Jessi's bandaged hand for the first time. He frowned as he cradled the hand. “What happened to you?”

“Well, Minerva was being rude, so I taught her some manners.”

A concerned Griffin looked at the hand then up into her eyes. “You know ladies don't brawl in the street.”

“I think Minerva knows that now.”

He chuckled. “Are you all right?”

“It still throbs a bit, but Dr. Salt says it isn't broken.”

Two Shafts put in, “She did us proud, Cheno. Dropped Minerva like a sack of rocks. Too bad you missed it.”

“Yes, it is. Are you ready to go home?” Griffin asked. He knew how tough she was; her hand could be aching like hell and she'd never say a word.

“Yes. Oh by the way—” Jessi said to Griffin.

She quickly related the details of her talk with the drunken Roscoe Darcy, adding, “He's says he might be willing to talk to the authorities about Reed's hand in my father's death.”

“That's good news,” Griffin told her. “Now, if we can just convince at least one more person to get on the stand and tell the truth about that night, we might just have us a cooked Reed.”

“Poor Percy,” Neil spoke mockingly. “Looks like his time has come.”

“Yes, it does,” his brother voiced in agreement. “Yes, it does.”

Jessi and Griffin left the Twins to their own devices and then headed out of town.

“Sleepy?” he asked.

“Not really. Too much excitement, I think.”

“Care for a ride in the moonlight?”

“Yes, I would,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Then let's go.”

W
hile Griff handled the reins, Jessi linked her arm with his and rested her head lovingly against his strong shoulder. “That first night you rode up to the house, I had no idea we'd end up this way.”

“Neither did I. You weren't real neighborly, as I remember.”

Her soft chuckle blended with the night. “I had a reason not to be, don't you think?”

“Yeah, I do. If I'd had Darcy on my back, l'd've been ornery too.”

Her thoughts turned to her nemesis. “Do you think he's finished now? His friends didn't appear very pleased tonight.”

“I think there are cracks growing in his walls even as we speak.”

“I hope you're right. I'm tired of fighting.”

“Well, let's not talk about him anymore. You'll spoil the mood.”

Jessi smiled. “Okay, what shall we talk about?” Then it came to her. “I know. Let's stop for a moment before we go home.”

“Where?”

Jessi gave him directions to a spot on Clayton land
that had a large stand of trees. “I've something to show you.”

He drove them to the patch of trees, then stopped. “What is it?”

She turned so that her back was to him. “Can you see well enough to undo my buttons?”

He laughed. “What?”

“Undo my buttons. Or don't you wish to see my fancy French underwear anymore?”

His smile was a mixture of surprise and delight. “You are getting more outrageous every day, Jessi Rose Clayton.”

She smiled at him provocatively over her shoulder. “It's all your fault. I never acted this way until you came riding into my life.”

He undid her buttons slowly, and as he progressed, Jessi shivered deliciously to the soft brush of his lips against her skin.

“Do you think we'll still be doing this when we're both old and gray?” he murmured.

Jessi didn't respond, she was too busy melting. She'd never thought she'd harbor such intense feelings for one man, or that those feelings would make her do something as outrageous as having him undress her in the moonlight, but here there wasn't another person for miles so she was free to be as outrageous as she wished. When all the buttons were freed, she stood and he carefully removed the costly dress. Moments later she was clad in nothing but shoes, hose, and her corset.

Griff could feel his manhood rising to the occasion. Over the years he'd undressed his share of beautiful women, but nothing compared to this heat-filled exchange. The corset was small and black. He couldn't decide which bewitched him more, the swell of her breasts above the bodice, or the sweet flair of her hips below the garment. The frilly black garters anchoring
the hose on her beautiful dark thighs only added to his excitement.

“Gillie says it's French sateen,” Jessi told him, turning slowly so he could see. It was trimmed with Russian lace and the tiny gray ribbons that centered the top of the bodice had been fashioned of silk. Noting the hot interest in his vividly colored eyes, she asked, “Was it worth the wait?”

“Oh, yes.”

He leaned forward and touched his lips to the soft, rounded swell of each dark breast, while his hand lovingly caressed the yielding flesh of her tempting bottom. Fired by the sensuous sight and feel of her, he dragged the black silk drawers down and off, rendering her deliciously bare from the middle of her hips down. She could already feel herself beginning to flow in response to his wandering hands and decided she enjoyed being outrageous very much.

He undid the silk ribbon and the two buttons directly beneath it and used his hands to brush open the halves of the boned corset. Her breasts were now free to be pleasured and he went about it slowly, using both his hands and his mouth until she arched and groaned.

He brushed his cheek against a berry hard nipple, whispering, “You're mine, Jessi Rose…my sweet night rose…”

He covered the nipple with his warm mouth, then bit her with love-gentled teeth. Jessi ran her hand over his soft red gold hair while he feasted, and as his ardor increased she found it hard to stand. His hand strayed to her bottom and urged her closer so he could explore the source of her desire: teasing, dallying, filling her blood with the soaring magic she'd come to crave.

“Bloom for me, Jessi…” he said thickly, and the wanton slide of his seeking fingers made her do just that. She widened her stance, her body on fire. He plied her
expertly, sweetly until passion dewed her like rain.

Next she knew, his big hands were on her waist and she was being placed on the top edge of the seat's back. She braced herself with her hands and legs as he lowered himself to his knees. “I always wanted to see what you tasted like on a wagon seat…open your legs for me, Jessi…”

She did, without hesitation, unable to deny him or herself the wicked delight sure to follow. Using a bold finger, he played with her in the moonlight, then leaned forward and brought the shining prize to his mouth. He ravished her slowly, tenderly teasing and plying that vulnerable jewel until her hips rose in greedy, welcoming response. She was kindling and he was flame. Her whole world seemed centered on the erotic sensations. When the explosion ripped through her, she screamed his name into the night.

He brought her back to herself with a gentle touch, but the echoes continued to ripple inside her like flames in a breeze, making her shudder and pulse. Boneless, she slid down the seat.

Griff's own desire raged. He stood and divested himself of his clothing. “Let me show you another use for a wagon seat…”

The hot timbre of his voice and the cajoling movement of his knuckle over her swollen damp nipples raised her passions once more. She slid herself aside so he could sit, and as she looked down at him she felt desire fuel her with a glowing power.

The promise in her eyes as she moved sensually to his side was as bold and as brazen as any gaze Griffin had ever seen. She gave him a sly smile and then it was his turn to gasp as her warm hand covered him possessively and began to move. His head rolled back against the seat and his eyes closed. She worked her way down to the floor at his feet and gave him a taste of his own
medicine. He groaned in reaction and could barely string two breaths together, so sweet was the pain.

“Is this a good use of a wagon seat…?” she asked him, in a voice as hot as her outrageous little mouth.

Griffin couldn't answer; he could barely remember his own name.

When Jessi thought she'd tortured him enough, she slowly kissed her way up his autumn-colored body, pausing to flick her tongue against the whorl of his navel, then the flat sandy nipples. When she finally touched her mouth to his, he dragged her closer and kissed her deeply. He silently intimated the position he wished for her to take and she straddled his seated body with a wanton grace. He eased her down onto his pulsing need and she went weak feeling him slide slowly inside.

She was still moist from his earlier pleasuring and the warm tight feel of her enclosing him almost made his first thrust his last. He wanted nothing more than to let go and send his soul soaring high into the starry sky, but he wanted her to make the journey with him.

Holding her hips, he began a slow erotic rhythm that closed her eyes. In tandem with the seductive heat within, he placed roving kisses against the damp but night-cooled skin of her neck and the planes of her breasts.

Griffin knew he had little mental stamina left. Her uninhibited response to each vivid thrust he gave only increased his need. The enticing bounce of her breasts and the soft purrs she gave as she rode him brought on his first initial quakes of completion. He gripped her hips below the gaping black corset and shuddered as the intense orgasm washed over him. She followed a heartbeat later and they clung to each other, soaring in a world that held only their love.

It took a while for him to convince Jessi to put on her clothes so they could return to the ranch. Her desire
for more tempted him so mightily, it resulted in him brazenly making love to her again on a blanket atop the grass, and again on the wagon seat. Finally, they were both too sated for anything else but the ride home; and even then, they kissed and caressed each other every step of the way.

 

The next day, Jessi dealt with a steady stream of visitors. Darcy had turned over the deeds for most of the ranches and businesses in the area, and the owners all came to the Clayton ranch to see about their return.

The folks who were new in the area and hadn't been infected by the gossip surrounding Jessi's past came to the Clayton ranch humbly. A man named Faragut drove over with his wife and his three boys and told how he'd been reduced to sharecropping because the Darcy bank had prematurely foreclosed on his small patch of farmland. Like many folks snared by the vicious circle of sharecropping, the bank had taken most of his profits since the foreclosure, forcing him and his small family to borrow against the profits of the next year's crop in order to buy food, seed, and supplies. At year's end, they had little to show for their back-breaking work except a few dollars and more debt. When Jessi handed him back the deed, he and his wife had tears in their eyes.

His wife whispered thickly, “May the Good Lord bless you always, Miss Jessi. Now my children can go back to school instead of the fields.”

As the Faraguts rode away in their rusted, battered buckboard, they waved, and Jessi waved back. She had tears in her eyes, too—Mrs. Faragut had given her the first blessing she'd received in many many years.

The owner of the Vale Barbershop, Wilson Cornell, and his wife Lydia, arrived shortly after the departing Faraguts. Unlike the Faraguts, Jessi knew the Cornells very well—so well that Jessi supposed hell must be
freezing over. Lydia Cornell had been one of Jessi's biggest detractors. In spite of the eggs, Jessi knew it was undoubtedly killing the woman to have to come with her husband to the Clayton ranch and ask for their mortgage back.

“Morning, Miss Jessi,” Wilson called as they came up the gravel walk. “Think we're going to get any rain soon?” Wilson had been one of her father's good friends and one the few men to come to Dexter Clayton's funeral. Jessi respected him for that.

“Hope so, Wilson, we could surely use some.”

Last summer's drought had been bad and this year seemed no better. All over the state, livestock and crops were dying from the extreme heat.

Lydia stepped up onto the porch. She was dressed in her best church dress and hat. “Morning, Jessi,” she said shortly.

“Morning, Lydia.”

“I suppose you're going to make us get down on our knees and thank you,” she accused haughtily.

“No, Lydia, I'm not, but if you feel the urge, be my guest.”

The barber glared at his wife before saying, “My apologies, Miss Jessi.”

“None needed. I know where I stand with Lydia and her friends. Here's your deed. Oh, and thanks for the eggs. Now, Wilson, get her off of my land.”

“You should have made her eat crow,” Griffin cracked, as he and the others came out onto the porch.

“I should've made her eat arsenic, the old bat.”

The next buckboard arriving carried visitors who brightened Jessi's mood. It was Auntie and her girls.

Dressed in her flashiest red dress, the heavyset, light-skinned woman jumped from the board and ran to the porch to engulf Jessi in a big hug. “The girls and I don't know how to thank you.”

Camille, Lottie, and Sylvia were decked out in their gaudy finery too. They smiled up at the Twins.

“Your boys can have free services anytime you want,” Sylvia promised.

“You too, Preacher,” Lottie said, with a grin and a sultry wink.

In response, he began to cough so violently, Jessi became worried.

Griff slapped his friend on the back. “Did you swallow something, old man?”

“Drinks will be on the house, too,” Auntie pledged, “and now that my new place is
my
place again, I'm going to enjoy it even more.”

When Jessi handed the saloon owner her mortgage, Auntie pulled Jessi to her ample bosom and gave her another smothering hug. “God bless you, little girl. Even if I never said so directly, you have been in my prayers for many, many years.”

Jessi returned the embrace. “I know, and it looks as if they're being answered. Thanks, Auntie.”

“You're welcome.” She finally released Jessi. “Boys, tonight I'm having a mortgage-burning party, and you are the guests of honor. Are you coming?”

Neil bowed. “We'd be honored.”

Auntie clapped her hands. “Good. Well, me and the girls are going to head back. You keep your rifle close, little girl, and if you or that handsome devil ever need us for
anything,
just holler.”

“We will,” Jessi replied genuinely.

“That's some woman,” Griffin declared, as they rode away.

Jessi agreed. “She's been a fixture here since I was young. The women in town don't respect her and her girls one bit, but they gladly accepted the money Auntie gave the town to buy new school books last year.”

Two Shafts spoke up. “Can I ask why everybody around calls you ‘little girl'?”

Jessi grinned. “Because I was such a handful growing up. It began with Gillie in school. She'd be teaching and I'd be causing mischief and she would say, ‘I've had just about enough out of you, little girl.'”

“How old were you?” Griffin asked, chuckling.

“Six. Then, as I reached eight and nine, I got into even more trouble. Folks would come stomping to the door and say to my mother, ‘That little girl of yours threw eggs at my cows,' or, ‘That little girl of yours just fell out of my tree.' I was a terror. Pretty soon, anytime anyone said, ‘That little girl did this or that,' everyone around knew it was me they were describing. Finally, it became a nickname.”

Griffin had a hard time squaring that mischievous girl child with the rawhide woman who knew her to be today. She held herself on such a tight rein, he couldn't imagine her running wild. What made her change? Had it been her mother's death or the time with Bob Winston? Griff wondered if he'd ever find out.