King's Ransom (12 page)
Authors: Sharon Sala
"You didn't
answer me, Jesse," he said, as his husky voice broke the silence between
them. "You know not to come barefoot around the barns." Then his
voice grew gentle, and he slid his hand along her arm, tightening on her wrist
as he pulled her to a stop and made her face him. Her quiet statement blew
everything else from his mind.
"
said.
King felt her
pulse jump beneath his fingers, and he sighed in frustration. He'd wanted to be
present at the first meeting between them. He didn't know exactly why, but he
suspected there was an old, unsettled problem he should know about. Yet he was
uncertain about how to get the information from Jesse. She could be so damn hardheaded.
"And,"
she continued, gently pulling her wrist from his grasp, "I'll try to be
more careful. I promise."
King didn't know
whether she meant she'd be more careful about where she went barefoot, or more
careful around
But it was too late to ask as Maggie's impatient voice hurried them both
inside.
King quickly
washed and changed into a fresh shirt, brushed most of the dust and grass from
his pant legs, and hurried to the table. He'd kept them waiting too long. It
didn't pay to pull this stunt with Maggie many times. She'd fed leftovers to
the barn cats more than once rather than put up with tardiness at the table.
He'd eaten dozens of baloney sandwiches because of it.
The food was
good, the cool comfort of the house a welcome relief, and the conversation was
casual and very ordinary. Yet King had never sat through a more uncomfortable
meal in his life. Maggie talked on and on about the weatherman's repeated daily
warnings of fire danger due to the extreme drought.
and looking at Jesse with an expression King felt almost obliged to punch off
his face. He reluctantly decided that would not be wise, and sat silently,
fuming over a situation he didn't understand.
Jesse blithely
refused to look at either Duncan or King. Instead, she talked too much about
absolutely nothing. King didn't know whether to shout or leave in disgust. The
decision was shelved as the shrill peal of the telephone startled the quartet
around the table.
"I'll get
it," Jesse offered, anxious to get away from the antagonistic atmosphere
hanging over the table. She scooted her chair back so quickly, King didn't even
have time to blink as she grabbed the wall phone by the kitchen cabinets.
King watched the
expression on her face change to one of disbelief and then terror. He debated
with himself for about half a second until he saw her chin quiver. That was
all it took. He rose from his chair with a violent move and grabbed the phone
from her hand.
"Who the
hell is this?" he asked. But the voice that answered him was not what he'd
expected.
He sighed as he
pulled Jesse gently into his arms, and absently rubbed his thumb against a tiny
mole behind her ear. The ill-concealed elation of Captain Shockey's voice and
the message he had for them were what they'd all been waiting for, yet at the
same time, fearing would come.
"Do you have
him in custody?" King asked, and then turned and frowned at Duncan as he
abruptly stood upright, knocking his chair over backward with a loud bang. He turned
away too soon and missed the look of pure panic that accompanied his uncle's
odd behavior.
"Okay,"
King said, after listening to Captain Shockey's request. "I want to
propose an alternate solution to this new turn of events. Since all you have at
this time are pictures, couldn't you send copies to the
them there? I don't think she's up to a trip back to
King felt the
breath leave Jesse's body as she stood stiffly beneath his hands, waiting
anxiously for an answer to King's request.
"Great!"
King said. "That's even better. And Shockey," he said after a pause,
"thanks."
He hung up the
phone and turned to face his waiting audience.
"The
on a tip from a store clerk, think there's a good possibility that their
suspect was caught on videotape as he entered and exited their store. They are
sending a copy of the tape here for Jesse to see. You don't have to go back to
You don't even have to go to
He felt her relaxing against him. "It's going to be okay."
"Well,
that's wonderful news, isn't it, Maggie?"
his chair upright. "I've got to be running along now. Thanks for the meal.
And, Jesse
...
it was good to see you
again. Take care." He disappeared.
"Well,"
Maggie muttered. "Easy come, easy go." Then she turned and pointed at
Jesse's drawn countenance. "And you, my dear, are due a rest. I don't
want any argument. King
..."
she
pointed again, including him in her orders. "See that she minds for a
change."
Jesse stifled a
sob, threw her arms around Maggie's neck, and kissed the mass of tiny wrinkles
on her cheek.
"I love
you," Jesse whispered in her ear. "And I almost always mind
you." Then, ignoring Maggie's snort, she let King lead her from the
kitchen.
"Are you all
right?" he asked softly, as he watched carefully for any signs of undue
stress. He didn't want another flashback episode.
"Yes,"
she answered. "Thanks for helping me. I don't know what made me freeze up.
Hearing Captain Shockey's voice made everything come crashing back. For a few
hours today, I almost let myself believe that everything was more or less back
to normal. The phone call was just a bitter reminder of how I'd been fooling
myself.''
King struggled
with the urge to kiss every tiny frown that lined her forehead and made the
usual tilt of her mouth droop with despair. The more he was around her, the
more he had to struggle to keep his hands off. He didn't know what was
happening to him, but he knew whatever he was feeling for Jesse had nothing to
do with pity.
"Would you
mind running me a bath, King? I'm too sticky and dusty to sleep on anything but
the back porch unless I clean up."
King made himself
ignore the touch of her hand on his arm and refused to meet her eyes. He shoved
his hands deep in the front pockets of his
meant to, "Just use my shower. I've got to get back to the stables. There's
another buyer due soon and I don't want to be late."
He backed out of
her doorway and had to force himself not to run away from the stunned look on
her face. He knew he'd sounded harsh and impatient, but showing his true
feelings at a time like this didn't seem prudent.
Hell!
he thought as he
walked aimlessly toward the barns. /
don't even know what my true feelings
are.
Jesse felt quick
tears fill her eyes at the harshness of his voice and his hasty exit. She'd
known this "coming home" thing wouldn't work from the beginning.
Unfortunately, for her own safety, she had no choice. No one saw her leaden
steps, or the droop of her shoulders, as she pushed the door to his room open
and quietly closed it behind her.
It was late
afternoon when King looked up from the rail he'd been nailing firmly back on
the corral fence by the barn. He saw a cloud of dust coming closer and closer
down the long driveway and frowned. He pulled an already damp handkerchief from
his hip pocket and halted the salty beads of moisture on his forehead just
before they slipped into his eyes. Then his heart quickened, and his feet
began to move toward the ranch house before his brain told him why they should.
It was the familiar shape of the white, four-door sedan and the long antenna
whip on the back of the vehicle identifying it as a police car that made the
hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He realized it would be another
sleepless night.
"Hell of a
deal," the sheriff said, as he solemnly greeted King. He'd known the McCandless
family for years, and held them in high regard. He had a daughter near Jesse
LeBeau's age, and knew how he would feel in similar circumstances. He hadn't
known of the attack on Jesse until he'd received the phone call and
instructions from
Later the same day, the special express package he now carried firmly in his
grasp had arrived, and he knew what he had to do.
"How's she
doing, King?" he asked.
"It's been
rough on her, Sheriff. But she's a survivor. She had to be or she wouldn't be
here today. I just hope to hell this is the man. I want the bastard behind
bars."
The sheriff
nodded in understanding and followed King into the house.
"Have a
seat," King indicated with a sweep of his hand, as he ushered the sheriff
into the den where a television and VCR rested on the shelf of the entertainment
center. "Maggie will bring you something cool to drink. I've got to go
find Jesse."
A quick word to
Maggie produced the answer to
Jesse's whereabouts,
and he went toward the bedroom wing while Maggie fixed the promised
refreshments.
King knocked
softly on Jesse's door. Nothing and no one seemed to be stirring. He knocked
again a bit sharper. After receiving no response again, he pushed the door
open, expecting to see Jesse sound asleep on her bed.
The room was
dark, the shades pulled against the glare of the hot July sun, and he blinked a
moment, giving his eyes time to adjust to the change of light. When he was
finally able to see, he frowned. The room was empty. King wiped a weary hand
across his face and decided to freshen up before he went looking elsewhere. He
didn't have far to go.
Jesse was curled
up in the middle of his bed. Even in the deepest of sleeps, she hugged his
pillow against her chest and face as King had held her against him the night
before. The loose cotton shift she was wearing was twisted and bunched high
above her knees and gave King much too much leg to try and ignore.
"God give me
strength," he muttered softly, and walked over to the side of his bed. He
felt his breath catch in his throat and had to swallow twice before he could
say her name. Finally it came out in a husky growl.
"Jesse, you
better wake up, girl, or you'll never sleep tonight."
His teasing voice
penetrated her dreamless slumber, and she smiled into her pillow before rolling
over on her back, stretching lazily against the teak-colored comforter on his
bed.
"Hi,"
she said slowly, and a soft, gentle smile creased her lips as she stretched her
hands above her head, pulling her shift a tiny bit higher.
King didn't even
know he'd moved. But he suddenly found himself on his hands and knees,
straddling her bare legs as he braced his hands on the mattress on either side
of her shoulders.
"You
lost?" he whispered, and gently pushed a dark, wavy lock of hair from her
eyes.
Jesse forgot to
breathe. Her eyes widened and she knew her heartbeat could probably be heard in
Please don't let
this be a dream,
she thought, and refused to move a muscle for fear the dream
would vanish.
"No, I'm not
lost," she finally answered, and looked long and hard, trying to read the
expression in King's eyes. "I'm never lost when I'm with you."
Her words hit him
in the stomach with fist force. "Oh, honey," he whispered, and leaned
forward, gently tasting the sleep-softened expression on her mouth.
The touch was
fleeting. The taste just a hint of what lay beneath him if he only dared take
it. He raised up, leaning back until he was sitting on the back of his boot
heels and felt as if he were being sucked up into the vortex of a storm. He
doubled his hands into fists and pressed them fiercely into his knees to keep
from touching her again. If he moved, he was afraid the next time he wouldn't
stop with a taste of Jesse LeBeau.
Jesse closed her
eyes as she saw him coming closer and was finally convinced she wasn't dreaming
as King's lips met hers. It may as well have been a branding iron. The
sensation was no less a mark of possession in her heart. Every inch of her
skin felt alive, every beat of her heart in tune with his own. Just as she
started to lock her hands behind his head and pull him closer, he moved away.
Jesse had to force herself not to cry aloud at the pain she experienced, or at
the distance once again between them.