Bushedwhacked Bride (21 page)
“But, Reverend, the Reklaws are standing up for us,
battling the consortium,” Joshua argued. “Surely you
gotta agree. Didn’t you say today that the Good Lord will vanquish our enemies?”
“He’ll vanquish them through His justice, not through
the breaking of the laws of man.”
The men fell glumly silent, deferring to the reverend.
But Jessica noted that Cole, Joshua, and several other
men soon got up and strode off to talk in a huddle beneath
an oak tree.
Noting that Ma was happily involved in a conversation
with Mrs. Allgood and several other matrons, Jessica
talked with Wilma, but mostly had fun watching the boys.
Luke and Wes were happily flirting with Minerva and
Maybelle. Billy and Gabe were competing over Peaches. Dumpling was still being ignored, and was now pouting.
Then at last the plump, vivacious blonde went into action. She flounced up, grabbed a platter of chicken, then shoved it under Billy’s nose. “Honey, have you tried my
fried chicken?”
Billy grinned. “No, ma’am, but I’d be right proud to.”
He grabbed a leg, took a bite, and licked his lips. “Hot
damn, ma’am, that’s wonderful. And you cooked it
yourself?”
“Sure did,” Dumpling simpered. “But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Dumpling sashayed off, soon returning with another
plate. Leaning over, she all but shoved her ample bosom
in Billy’s face as she brandished the new platter just
inches from his nose. “Try my biscuits, honey.”
Billy’s gaze was riveted to Dumpling’s generous
breasts, and his voice held a telltale quiver. “Yes, ma’am.”
Reaching up, he grabbed a biscuit, took a bite, gazed at
Dumpling’s staggering attributes, and looked ecstatic
enough to faint.
“Well, what do you say, honey?” Dumpling pressed.
Billy grinned at Dumpling, then turned to Peaches and
Gabe and loudly cleared his throat. “Hey, folks, would
you scoot down a bit? I think Miss Dumpling would like
to set a spell.”
Peaches and Gabe scooted down, and Dumpling hap
pily seated herself next to Billy. Billy appeared thor
oughly bedazzled, and Jessica struggled not to laugh
aloud. She had to hand it to Dumpling—she was quite a
little operator.
***
On the way home, Billy’s brothers teased him. “Billy’s
got a dumpling for a girlfriend,” jeered Gabe.
“Yeah, and he’s gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry her
around,” taunted Luke.
“Who knows, maybe she’ll fatten him up a mite with that cookin’ of hers,” added Wes.
Even as Billy appeared ready to pop his cork, Ma
turned wrathfully on her sons. “Hush up that mean talk,
right now, you varmints. Miss Dumpling can’t help it if’n
she’s hefty. This unseemly talk makes me wonder what
you vipers must say about your own ma behind her
back.”
“Ma, we don’t say nothin’,” protested Billy.
“Hush up!” she scolded. “A little pipsqueak like you, you don’t deserve a fine woman like Miss Dumpling.”
“But Ma, I didn’t say nothin’ against her!” Billy
protested. “Why are ya blessing me out?”
“‘Cause the good Lord told me to,” Ma shot back.
“You was thinkin’ evil thoughts, I just know it.”
Billy rolled his eyes.
After a moment, Cole spoke up sternly. “You know,
you boys need to watch your mouths. That business about
growing watermelons just about did us in.”
“But everyone knew we was joshing,” protested Billy.
“You weren’t. You were acting like the ignorant hicks you are.”
The boys grumbled to one another.
“Well, no harm done, and you set everyone straight, Cole,” Gabe remarked. “ ‘Sides, we don’t know nothin’
about farming.”
“That’s obvious. And the more we’re around these peo
ple, the more suspicious they’re going to become.”
“Come on, Cole, don’t be such a spoilsport,” put in
Jessica.
He shot her a resentful look, but refrained from further
comment.
“Hey, Miss Jessie, ain’t them women beauteous?”
asked Billy.
“Weren’t those
women
beautiful.
And yes, they were.”
“‘Course we’re not through competing for you,” he
quickly added.
“Of course,” she agreed solemnly.
Cole shot Jessica a glare.
From the back of the buckboard, Wes spoke up. “Ma,
can we go back for prayer meeting on Wednesday night?
Miss Maybelle and the others, they’ll be a’comin.”
Ma turned to regard her younger sons in amazement.
“Well, I’ll be hanged. Prayer meeting, is it? There may be
hope for you heathens, after all.”
Chapter Eighteen
At home, Jessica felt the need to speak with Cole, to
thank him for his cooperation today. Although she didn’t
want to encourage him, she hoped she might get their re
lationship back on a more civil basis. She couldn’t really blame him for being miffed and angry. She’d given her
self to him in a moment of weakness, then had cut him
off. For men, these matters were always so simple, and
every problem could be resolved in bed. For her, the is
sues were far more complex.
She didn’t find Cole around the house or in its immediate environs. Then the sounds of gunfire prompted her
to walk past the barnyard toward an abandoned chicken
coop. That was where she spotted him, shooting at bottles
lined up on the ledge of the old shed. Her heart automat
ically hammered at the sight of him; he looked so sexy, still wearing his fine white linen shirt and dark trousers, especially with the intent look on his tanned face as he
fired his Colt, shattering bottle after bottle.
She questioned the wisdom of speaking with him alone this way. She remembered all too well what had happened
to her the last time they’d been alone. But. they were much
closer to the house this time and she doubted Cole would
try anything; there was too much risk of discovery.
Once he stopped to reload, she stepped into the clearing. “You pretending those bottles are me, Cole?”
Startled, he turned to her. “Well, hello, Miss Jessie.
Nice afternoon, isn’t it?”
She moved closer, crossing her arms over her bosom.
“Yes, nice afternoon. But you haven’t answered my
question.”
Cole grimly turned to fire, blowing apart another bot
tle. “Now, why would I want to pretend those bottles
are you?”
Jessica laughed ruefully. “Oh, I can think of lots of reasons.” She moved closer. “But for now, let’s start with the
fact that you’re not pleased with me for insisting everyone go to church today, even though you offered your
support.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Actually, I found the outing rather educational, especially talking to the miners who
were there. Seems there’s a lot of backing for what the
gang is doing.”
“The people of the church are frustrated and angry. But
that doesn’t make what you’re doing right.”
He merely shrugged and fired another shot.
“You know, Cole, if you really were an authentic
Robin Hood, you’d give some of your proceeds to the
church, to the people in the town whom the consortium is
harming.”
“That’s a thought,” he conceded, firing again.
“So what are you doing here—practicing for your next
robbery?”
His answer was punctuated by more gunshots. “Any
one living in these parts who isn’t schooled in self-de
fense is a fool.”
“Then I’m a fool?”
Cole turned, shoving the pistol into his waist. “You
pointed a loaded gun at me and didn’t know the first thing
about firing it. What do you think that makes
you,
Jessie?”
She felt wounded by his harsh words. “You’re still mad
about that?”
He moved closer, breath hot on her cheek, eyes blazing
into hers. “You know damn well what I’m mad about.”
“Yes, I suppose I do,” she conceded.
“You’re a tease, Jessie.”
“I am not!” she protested.
“Really?” he mocked. “You gave yourself to me, then
you pulled away. That’s a tease in my book.”
Wretchedly, she twisted a bit of her skirt fabric. “Cole,
I didn’t mean to.”
“Mean to what? Give yourself to me—or pull away?”
She swallowed hard. “Don’t you know I feel torn about
this, too? I—I just wanted to thank you for your cooperation today. And I was hoping we might become—well, friends again.”
“Friends?” He seized her by the shoulders. “I’m not
going to be your friend, Jessie.
Ever.
You got that straight?”
She nodded vigorously.
He turned, grimly reloading his pistol, then firing off
another round.
“Guess I’ll go, then.”
He turned. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to learn to fire a pis
tol—and a rifle, too. Ma knows how.”
“I’m shocked she needs anything besides her broom.”
At last he smiled.
“Cole . . .” Feeling a bit encouraged, she asked, “Were
you at least pleased with your brothers’ progress today?”
“Progress? You mean with the ladies?”
“Yes. They need the influence of respectable women.”
“And you’re not jealous?”
“Of course not. I’m relieved. You know I never wanted
you and your brothers to compete for me.”
His expression darkened and he didn’t comment.
She stepped closer. “Look, there’s something else I
want.”
“Yes?”
She bravely met his eye. “I want to teach the children
in town.”
He shook his head. “Jessie, you’re gonna dig our
graves with all this socializing.”
“I disagree! After seeing the needs of the children in Mariposa, I must insist on going in to teach—at least a couple of days a week.”
“And if I say no?”
She touched his arm, watched a muscle work in his
jaw. “You had the privilege of a basic education. Now
your brothers are benefiting from the same. Would you
deny that to the town’s children?”
He sighed. “You sure like to turn the knife, don’t you?”
“It’s the truth.”
He glanced away toward the trees, his expression
tense. “Just what is it you want to do?”
“Well, for starters, I need to go into town to speak with
the mayor—about the school and also about writing up
the town’s history for Founders’ Day.”
“Founders’ Day?”
“Didn’t you hear your ma volunteer to help make
quilts for the bazaar?”
He flung a hand outward. “Damn it, Jessie, what are
you going to have all of us do next? Make lace tatting?”
“Cole, please.”
He continued to frown for a long moment. “Very well,”
he conceded at last. “Guess I still have a soft spot when you wheedle, woman. I’ll take you to town.”
“I can go myself.”
“Really?” he mocked. “You don’t even know how to defend yourself.”
“I’ll borrow Ma’s broom.”
He chuckled. “Not good enough.”
Laughing herself, she nodded toward his pistol. “Then
why don’t you show me?”
His suddenly sensual gaze caught hers. “Show you
what?”
She eyed him in reproach. “How to use the pistol, of
course.”
He dipped into a mocking bow. “Yes, ma’am.”
She watched Cole stride off to a barrel filled with dis
carded bottles, then position several more on top of the coop. He sauntered back, turned, and pointed the pistol
toward the coop.
“Now watch,” he directed. “Here’s how you hold the pistol . . . Here’s how you cock it
. . .
Here’s how you
shoot.” After discharging a round, he asked, “Want to
try?”
“Sure.”
He moved closer, putting the heavy pistol in her hand.
“Now don’t tense up.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “A little hard when one
is holding an instrument of death.”
“I’ll help.” Cole moved behind her, curling his body
around hers, placing his hand over hers on the pistol.
“Now just relax. Point the pistol. Cock it. Now shoot.”
Though it was hard to concentrate with him so tempt
ingly close, Jessica complied, wincing and recoiling as
the first shot rang out. Although she missed the bottles, she did hit the coop.
“Not bad,” Cole commented. “But just like I told you,
you’re too tense. Try again.”
Jessica struggled to relax, and succeeded in not flinch
ing as she fired off several more rounds, each one strik
ing closer to the bottles themselves. Meanwhile, she felt
Cole’s lips moving to her cheek—and was stunned at the torrent of emotion his mouth stirred in her.
“Cole, please don’t.”
“Just trying to relax you, honey.”
“Well, you’re not succeeding.” She fired another
round, this time shattering a glass.
“Bravo, you’re getting better.” He was nuzzling her
neck.
Jessica’s voice trembled badly. “And you shouldn’t be putting the moves on a woman holding a loaded gun.”
“Tell me about it,” he agreed dryly.
Abruptly Cole seized the pistol from Jessica’s fingers and shoved it back in his waist. Then he turned her into his arms and crushed her close.
“Cole—”
“I miss you, Jessie,” he whispered against her hair.
His words, his nearness, were pure torture. Jessica shut
her eyes tightly, trying to hold back a floodtide of emo
tion. But she couldn’t stop her senses from reacting to his
exciting nearness, especially his tenderness and lack of
aggression. It would be so easy to give in, and she wanted
him so badly. But it would be another huge mistake.
“I know, Cole,” she whispered at last. “I miss you,
too.”
“Do you, honey?” His arms tightened. “I miss the
smell of your hair, your kisses, the little sounds you made
when I was inside you. You want me inside you again,
don’t you, honey?”
His words were sensual torture. “Please, Cole, stop.”
“Why?”
She pulled back, miserably meeting his gaze. “Because
you’ll get us both in trouble, get me pregnant.”
He sighed heavily. “Are you so afraid to trust me?”
She stepped out of his arms. “It’s not just trust, Cole. You have to change. And despite all your sweet-talk, you’re really not willing to do so, are you?”
His silence was ample answer. With a resigned expres
sion, she turned and walked away.
Cole watched her leave in anguish. His heart urged him
to run after her, but his pride held him back. For hadn’t
she spoken the truth? He’d offered to marry her, but could
he really give her all the love and devotion a husband
should, much less a safe and secure future? Was he ready
to make sacrifices for her, to change for her? He wanted
her, wanted to make love to her, but was he really ready
to share his life with her in the most profound sense? He still hadn’t shared with her his deepest hurts and feelings.
He wanted her all right, but on his own terms. He real
ized sadly that his terms might never be good enough for
her. She needed and deserved much more.