Nevada Heat (35 page)

His breath rushed from him and he almost wept with relief. "Holy God, Miranda," he whispered in her ear. “You liked to scared me out of ten years."

Quickly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn, wrinkled red bandanna. Crumpling it in one hand, he held it against her side tightly to stop the bleeding.

Jesse heard Dave's horse approaching only moments later and looked up to see the worried concern in his friend's eyes.

“Jesus!” he cried. "She ain't…"

“No.” Jesse grinned. For the first time in two years he felt like laughing and dancing and just plain old jumping up and down. "Looks a helluva lot worse than it is. Not much more than a scratch."

"But the bastard tried to kill her?" Dave's fingers tightened around the reins and his horse danced nervously at the smell of fresh blood.

Jesse shook his head. “From what I saw, M'randa was tryin' to pull the gun away from him. Think it was an accident." He looked back down at the woman in his arms. Accident or not, he'd come too close to losing her.

“Which way'd he go?"

Jesse jerked his head in the right direction. "His horse is pretty well shot. Don't think you'll have too much trouble catchin' up to him."

Dave nodded. "You and her be all right?"

"Yeah." Jesse's left hand smoothed down Miranda's shoulder. "Soon's I get the bleedin' stopped, we'll head for town."

Dave nodded. "See you there. Look after Shelly for me."

"Right." As Dave started off Jesse called out, "Watch out for him now. From what I hear, the man's almighty good with that gun!"

Dave raised one hand to acknowledge the warning and then was lost in the rising cloud of dust.

Miranda stirred restlessly.

“Lay still now, M'randa," Jesse whispered, and tightened his hold on the still-bleeding flesh wound.

"Jesse?"

Her eyes opened and he felt himself falling into the glorious turquoise depths. Thank you, God, he cried silently. "It's all right, darlin'," he said softly. “Everything's all right now."

"Forbes?"

"Gone. Dave went after him."

"He shot me…."

"Yeah." He swallowed heavily and fought down the urge to squeeze her. "But you'll be fine."

Tears filled her eyes and her bottom lip quivered.

"He killed my father, Jesse. He killed him so he could have me."

There was nothing he could say. Instead he tightened his hold on her, bent down, and smoothed his lips over hers gently. Jesse knew that he would never be able to touch her enough. In the years to come, he would always remember this day and how close he'd come to losing everything he held dear. And he swore to himself that he would never waste a minute of their time together.

“I knew you'd come, Jesse." She sighed and closed her eyes again. “I knew it."

Jesse smiled and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "'Course I came, darlin'." He smiled even though she couldn't see it. "We got a weddin' to see to."

A short time later Jesse had Miranda on the saddle before him. Her breath, warm and soft against his neck, and her hand against his chest filled him with a surge of love so overpowering, he trembled slightly at its strength.

She shifted position slightly and he drew her up closer to his heart. He turned his horse around to head for town. He'd feel a lot better once the doctor had looked her over.

The weary animal hadn't taken more than a step or two when a single shot rang out in the distance. Jesse pulled up on the reins and glanced back over his shoulder. Only a minute later two more shots echoed in the stillness.

Epilogue

One month later…

"Still don't see why you had to shoot him!" Buck adjusted his sling, then grabbed up a nearby shot glass and tossed its contents down his throat.

“Jesus, Buck!" Dave gripped his mug of beer tightly and scowled at his partner. "How many times do I have to tell you? Forbes drew on me! He didn't give me no choice! I had to shoot him."

Buck sniffed, pulled at his too tight string tie, and looked past his friend for the bartender. “You always was too damn fast for your own good!" He lifted his empty glass as a signal for a refill and added, “The boys back home was countin' on a good hangin'. They're gonna be some disappointed."

Dave rolled his eyes, took a long drink of the cold beer, and said shortly, “The cap'n wasn't much upset."

“Hmmph! Cap’n's all business. He don't care how you do it, just so's you do it."

“The wire he sent last week proves that," Dave went on, speaking loud enough to drown Buck and the others out “Says he's got a job for you to do as soon as you're fit."

Buck frowned. “You still set on quittin', then?"

Shelly walked up and linked her arm through her husband's. Dave looked down at her and grinned before turning back to his old friend. “You bet on it. From here on out, I'm a rancher, not a Ranger."

“Dance with me?" Shelly smiled up at Dave and her new husband caught his breath. Only a month of marriage and she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Why, if things kept goin' like they were, he thought, by the time they'd been married twenty years, he wouldn't be able to look at her without shadin' his eyes!

As his arm snaked around her waist and the fingers of his left hand entwined themselves with hers, he told himself he could hardly wait.

They slipped effortlessly into the dance and were quickly enveloped in the moving crowd of people. Buck turned his back and waved the fingers of his good hand for the bartender. Shaking his head, he silently swore, “I told him womenfolks was trouble!”

“Yes, sir, Birdwell,” Jim Sully pointed out for the fifth time, “I think goin' back to ranchin' is the right thing to do.”

Birdwell nodded, his eyes blank, his head pounding. He'd been listening to Jim for more than an hour now, and if he didn't get away quick…

“Did I tell you about the time me and Bill started in a new way of handlin' the roundups back in Montana?" Jim asked as he took another hearty swallow of the saloon's best whiskey.

"Yeah, Jim," Birdwell groaned, "you told me."

"I didn't think so."

Jim's face was flushed, his tie crooked, and his words were beginning to slur. But that wouldn't stop him, Birdwell knew. “It was back in Montana in spring of sixty-six." He paused. "Or was it sixty-seven?" Birdwell's head dropped to his chest.

Ezra smiled shyly at Miranda. Then the old gambler bowed his head, lifted her hand to his lips, and placed a soft, quick kiss on her fingertips. “Ain’t you are the prettiest thing I ever saw, M'randa. Even more beautiful than your mother, I think."

Miranda leaned toward him and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Ezra. For everything." She waved her hand down the length of her new, meadow-green gown. “It was so sweet of you to give me this lovely dress to be married in."

The gambler blushed and ran one finger under his collar. Miranda'd never seen Ezra looking more dapper, in his stiff white shirt and spanking-clean black broadcloth suit. With his hair combed and every speck of dust gone from his old bowler hat, she now had a notion of what a handsome rogue he must have been in his younger days.

"Just a small thank-you for the years of family you've given me," he said quietly.

On impulse, Miranda took his hand in hers. “Are you sure you won't come with us to Texas?"

"No." He shook his head, but she could see that he was pleased that she'd asked him again. "No, I'm gonna head down to Tucson, meet up with Pete and the girls."

"But you'll come visit, won't ya, Ezra?" Jesse stepped up behind his brand-new wife and laid one hand on her shoulder.

"Sure will." He grinned up at the younger man. "You folks expect me next winter, all right?" Then Ezra turned for the bar with a decidedly light step.

"How you doin', Mrs. Hogan?"

“That sounds nice." She smiled and leaned back into her husband's strong arms.

"Yeah, I think so." He watched the dancers in front of him for a long moment before commenting, "Shelly and Dave do pretty good together, don't they?"

“Uh-huh.” Miranda turned and looked up at him, smiling. "Of course, like she keeps telling me, she's an old married woman now."

He chuckled softly. "A whole month on us makes her an expert, does it?"

"According to her."

“Well, if we hadn't had to wait for you and Buck to heal up, we could've been married a month by now, too." Jesse curved one arm around behind her, pulling her close to him.

She let her gaze rake over her handsome husband, from his shining new suit to his slicked-down hair. Her heart pounded heavily and she decided that she must be a completely wanton woman. The only thing she wanted to do was leave her own wedding party and hurry Jesse upstairs to the room that awaited them.

“I see what you're thinkin', Miranda," he breathed, and leaned down to kiss her. "And I figure a few more minutes down here, and nobody's gonna notice if we slip out."

His thumb began to move in lazy circles over the small of her back and she locked her knees to keep from falling against him.

And though she'd never thought to be so happy, there was still one thing niggling at her brain. It didn't matter that they'd already talked about it. She had to know that he was all right with what had happened in the desert.

Her features clouded over slightly. “Jesse, I know I've already said this, but I'm sorry I kept you from settling things with Forbes on your own."

The smile on his face faded and his green eyes softened as he looked at her. Slowly, deliberately he bent down and kissed her forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth.

His lips moved against hers leisurely, lovingly, and it was a long, full moment before he straightened up again. “M'randa, darlin', Forbes is finished. And” — his hands reached up to cup her face gently — “as far as I go, it was finished when he rode away from you. That was all that mattered to me, M'randa." His eyes roamed over her face and his thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You bein' safe. With me. Lovin' me. That's everything."

The proof of his words was etched plainly on his features and she felt as though they had finally put his past behind them.

“But what about you?" he asked then, his fingers lifting her chin slightly. "How do you feel knowin' that Bandit's Canyon don't exist anymore?"

It only hurt for a moment. The brief jab of pain for something that would never be again.

Dave had spent almost a solid week apologizing for burning down the bandit town. But he'd had his orders from the Rangers. He was to see to it that outlaws wouldn't have a place to hole up in anymore. And, Miranda thought, if she were to be completely honest, she would have to agree with the Rangers.

Times had changed. The kind of men looking for a hideout now were not the kind she would have welcomed anyway. Birdwell was right when he'd told her that it was time to let go of the past and move on.

Miranda stared into her husband's eyes, reached up, and smoothed back a wayward lock of his hair. Softly she told him, "I'm all right. Bandit's Canyon is finished, too. But before it died, it gave me my future. You, Jesse."

This time when he bent to claim her mouth, Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly. She parted his lips with her tongue and felt his gasp of pleasure shoot through her as well.

He was right. Nothing mattered but this. Being together. It was everything.

“Here now!" Birdwell stepped up to the entwined couple and deftly separated them. "Save some o’ that for later, you two!"

A sprinkling of laughter floated up into the air from the smiling people surrounding them.

Birdwell placed his hands on Miranda's shoulders, kissed her forehead loudly, and proclaimed in a booming voice, “Before these here two sneak off, leavin' us to party alone” — a cheer sounded out from the crowd — “we think they ought to dance for us, just once. Make this whole thing kinda official like."

Everyone started clapping and Jesse and Miranda were gently shoved toward the center of the floor. They stood uncertainly for a moment or two, basking in the love and friendship offered them by the waiting people. Then, as the fiddler struck up the soft, sweet strains of "Barbara Allen," Jesse bowed formally to his wife.

“Mrs. Hogan" — he grinned — “would you do me the honor?"

She held the edges of her skirt out and curtsied deeply. Then slipping her hand into his, she whispered, “A pleasure, Mr. Hogan."

Together they glided around the floor with the ease that comes from long practice… or love.

The End

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