King's Ransom (20 page)

The worry Jesse
had about his statement was that her problem might never be solved. Where did
that leave her? Now she had a house she couldn't go back to, a job at which she
wasn't welcome, and a man who had tried to kidnap her still at large. And, here
she was, hiding in the very place she'd sworn never to come back to.

"Excuse
me," she muttered, looking at neither King nor Maggie, as she bolted for
the front door.

They watched her
go, looking helplessly at each other for guidance. Finally, at Maggie's insistence,
King followed her outside into the summer night.

The night sky was
unusually dark, although the moon was almost full. But Jesse didn't notice the
absence of stars or the accumulation of clouds slowly gathering in the south.
She was too full of herself, certain that her life had taken a downward spiral
she'd never be able to stop.

A chorus of
bullfrogs competed with the cricket string quartet for dominance in the night
symphony. Somewhere off to the west, a coyote's single yip preceded an entire
choir of howls and calls that sent a shiver down Jesse's spine. They echoed the
loneliness and emptiness she felt inside. She shuddered as the coyote chorus
ended as abruptly as it had begun. A few fireflies fluttered in the black space
above the horizon, flickering like earthbound stars and just as hard to catch.

Jesse walked out
into the enveloping darkness and let it close around her, drawing her into its
secrets like a moth drawn to the light. Scents assailed her senses from every
direction, and Jesse knew she could have pinpointed her location at any given
moment.

The honeysuckle,
heavy with sweet-smelling blossom, reclined over and along the fence around
the front yard and blended its tantalizing odor with the sharper, astringent
tang of towering junipers. The air was still, and only the soft, gentle night
sounds intruded into Jesse's thoughts. She felt anxiety slowly seeping away.
She put her hands out in front of her and when they connected with a rough,
grainy textured barrier, she climbed upon the top rail of the wooden fence and
took a precarious seat.

The front door
slammed loudly, telling her someone had followed her into the darkness.
Probably King. Her suspicions were correct and she heard his voice call out to
her.

"Here,"
she answered, then heard him coming her way.

"What,
Jesse?" King asked with his usual abbreviated speech.

"Everything
is out of control," she finally answered. Her voice was barely above a
whisper. She was afraid to say it too loud. What was left of her world might
come apart, too.

King didn't
respond, but stood silently, allowing her time to collect her thoughts before
she continued.

"As of
today, I no longer have a job." Then she added, "At least until this
is over, which may be never. I have a house I can't go back to. I have
nothing."

"Yes, you
do," King answered in his deep, husky growl. "You have Maggie . . .
and Turner . . . and me." Then he grudgingly added, "Hell, you even
have Duncan worrying about you, and I've never known him to care about anything
but himself."

He heard her
sharp, indrawn breath and then nothing. No answer, no response at all to the
mention of Duncan's name. King had finally had enough of this silence.

"That does
it," he mumbled.

He walked so
close to Jesse she could hear him breathing, yet she could barely distinguish
the outline of his shoulders in the darkness.

"Jesse, I
want to know . . . and don't lie to me. I'll know if you do. What's between you
and Duncan?"

For the longest time
Jesse held her silence and then, finally, she let out a long, defeated sigh,
and shifted to a less precarious position on the fence.

"Nothing,"
she answered quietly, and then added, "at least not now."

King's heart skipped
a beat. He wasn't so sure he wanted to hear the rest of her answer, but
something made him persist.

"Sometimes
you seem to be afraid of him. Has he . . . has he hurt you, or done something
that made you uneasy? If he did . . ."

"No!
No!" Jesse interrupted. "It's just, he wanted more from me than I was
willing to give."

"Like
what?" King asked harshly, imagining the worst. But Jesse's answer
rendered him speechless.

"He wanted
to marry me."

"My
God!" King finally muttered. "Where the hell was I when all this was
going on?" But he knew the answer to his own question before he'd finished
asking it. This had all taken place after Jesse went to St. Louis.

"Do you love
him?" King finally managed to ask, and felt his stomach begin to draw when
she hesitated.

"No. But
once, for about five minutes, I considered trying," Jesse answered sadly.

"Were you
that lonely, Jess?" King muttered. "Why would you
try
to love?"

It was the
longest time before Jesse spoke. She debated with herself about even answering
him and then decided it was time he knew.

"I suppose .
. . because he looked like you."

King couldn't
think. He couldn't speak. He couldn't have taken a step if his life depended on
it. Finally, he managed to speak past the huge, aching knot in his throat.

"Why, if he
looked like me, couldn't you love him?"

Her answer nearly
broke his heart.

"Because he
wasn't you."

King was
devastated. Everything about her demeanor told him that he'd just lost something
very precious without even knowing it had been there for the taking. It hurt to
think. It hurt to talk. But he had to know.

"Jesse, am I
the reason you left the Double M three years ago?"

"Yes,"
she answered sharply. She was angry with herself for being so weak where he was
concerned. Angry because King was so blind where she was concerned. "And
now, it looks like you're the reason I had to come home, doesn't it? Makes you
wonder just how cruel life can be with the little jokes it plays on us from
time to time."

She took a deep,
shaky breath and then continued.

"Just don't
expect me to thank you for making me tell you what you should have known, King
McCandless. It's obvious the level of caring between us is not a balanced
proposition. Just as soon as this nightmare is over, and I have to believe it
soon will be, I'll be out of your life. Everything will be back to normal. So
please," she said with a muffled sob, "don't let my presence put any
pressure on you. I don't expect anything from you
...
or Duncan. I've had just about all I can take from McCandless
men to last me a lifetime."

She slipped off
the fence rail and went past him so quietly he didn't even realize she was
gone. Not until he reached out did he discover that there was nothing in his
arms but empty darkness.

The clouds
belched a long, low, faraway rumble. King looked up at the dark, moonless sky
in surprise. Maybe it was finally going to rain. He knew the thunder was far
away and moving in the wrong direction to help this dry, dusty land tonight. He
also knew it would take more than rain to put his relationship with Jesse back
together. He wanted to follow her into the house, finish what they'd started in
the hayloft and fill the huge, aching hole she'd just punched in his heart. But
now, because he'd been so blind, and made her tell more than she'd obviously
intended, she'd resent anything he said or did. She was going to think it was
pity, or assuaging the guilt he'd already admitted he felt because of the
attempted kidnapping. They hurt her to get to him. Then he'd hurt her by being
so damn blind. Jesse was right. The McCandless men had really let her down.

"Dear
Lord," King whispered to the starless sky, "help me find a way to
make Jesse believe. I can't let her go again. If I do, I'll lose her for sure
this time . . . and I think it would kill me."

He bowed his head
and turned, walking back into the house to shut out the night, and to shut
himself in with loneliness and pain.

TEN

The wind whipped
over the rolling hills, flattening the dry grass and weeds to the ground. It
whipped Jesse's hair into her mouth and eyes with stinging gusts. She covered
her mouth and nose to keep from inhaling the clouds of red dust that hurtled
wildly through the air.

"Hurry!"
Maggie urged, as she and Jesse grabbed at the last of the clothes on the
clothesline.

Jesse nodded,
waved Maggie into the house, and gathered the last of the clothes alone. The
dust storm had come up so quickly. One minute the sky had been bright, the
sunshine getting ready to do its worst; the next thing they realized, a low
hanging pall of rusty sky was hurtling at them in gale force.

"My
word!" Maggie gasped, as Jesse staggered into the door with her arms full
of dusty clothes that would have to be re-washed. "This reminds me of the
Dust Bowl days. Lord knows we don't want that to happen again. We sure need a
rain."

"Here,
Maggie," Jesse urged. "Let me start the washing. You've already done
this once. This time it's my turn."

"You just
talked me into it, honey. Thanks a bunch. I believe I'll go clean up while you
start the wash. I feel like I just ate a bowl of sand."

Jesse grinned.
"I know what you mean. Oh!" she added, "as soon as I start a
load to wash, I'm going to go check on Tariq. He was out in the corral earlier
this morning. I may need to put him up if someone didn't already think of it.
King took most of the men with him to the stockyards. They're hauling off the
herd of cattle that was pastured by the big pond."

"Okay, but
be careful," Maggie cautioned, then went through the utility room into the
kitchen.

Jesse put on a
long-sleeved shirt to use as a shield against the sharp, stinging sand, wrapped
a scarf around her head, leaving only her eyes visible, and started toward the
horse bam in her makeshift armor.

The wind blew in
one long, continuous blast from the Oklahoma corridor, south toward Texas,
carrying dust from as far away as the Dakotas, picking up momentum and density
as it passed from state to state along the line of the storm front.

Jesse struggled
to keep her feet on the ground as she lowered her head and pushed herself
forward step by step. She heard King's big white stallion neighing frantically
as she neared the barns. The wild winds and swirling dust were driving the
horse into a frenzy. There was no place he could go to get away from the storm.

Jesse dashed
quickly through the barn and into the stall area leading into the corrals. She
whistled sharply, but the wind blew the sound away from Tariq. He didn't hear
her approach. Jesse grabbed a rope, quickly made a noose, and walked out into
the corral, letting the long loop drag in the swirling dust. She didn't want to
scare the horse anymore than he already was.

"Come here,
boy," she called again, and this time Tariq saw her. He answered her call
with a frightened nicker, spun about before he oriented himself in the storm,
and came toward her at a trot.

Jesse slipped the
rope over his head and quickly led him out of the storm into the shelter of the
barn.

"Here's an empty
stall, fella. I know you don't like to be shut up, but something tells me you
won't fuss much today."

Tariq flicked his
little ears back and forth, calming at the sound of Jesse's voice and the
relief of being away from the stinging dust and wind. He tossed his head as she
slipped the rope from his neck, then nudged her arm as she began to rub him
down, brushing most of the red dirt from the horse's snowy coat.

She gave him a
final pat, walked out of the stall, and shut the half door behind her. The lariat
rope lay in a tangle on the barn floor and she picked it up, deftly working it
into a proper nest of loops, and hung it on a peg by the stall door. She dusted
her hands against her pant legs, and surprised herself when she realized all
that she'd just accomplished had been done with no pain or weakness to her
hands. She pulled the scarf away from her face and looked down in surprise.

"They don't
hurt," Jesse whispered to herself. "My God! They don't hurt at all.
Now," she muttered, pulling the scarf back around her face before making
a dash for the house, "if only the rest of my life would heal as
quickly."