Never Love a Cowboy (15 page)

He scooted over to her, and Jessye wrapped her arms around the trembling boy. He released a wrenching sob.

“Shh,” Jessye cooed, rocking him gently as his tears drenched her shirt.

She watched Harry and Tom walk away to handle their ghastly chore. Her respect for Harry grew. He’d manipulated the boy right into the place where he needed to be, and he’d done it without stripping Jake of his pride.

“I’m not sure we should continue with this venture,” Kit said.

Harrison studied the young boys sitting in front of the fire, a blanket draped around each of them. “Because of their experience this afternoon?”

“Because it seems no one is getting through to Sedalia. We met up with another group of men before dusk. It’s not only jayhawkers, but farmers with rifles that are rebelling against anyone bringing the cattle through. For what these men will gain when we reach the end of the trail, I cannot in all good conscience place them in harm’s way.”

Harrison turned his attention to Jessye and quirked a brow. “What do you think?”

“I ain’t much on quitting.”

“You prefer to experience a few more afternoons like the one you had today?” Kit asked.

“That’s unfair, Kit,” Harrison snapped. He looked at Dan. “What are your thoughts?”

Dan shrugged. “The men knew the risks when they signed on. I ain’t heard no grumbling.”

Kit sighed heavily. “It’s my understanding that this
vindictiveness runs rampant through the area. Perhaps it’s somehow related to feelings stirred up during the war—”

“Then we head west,” Harrison suggested calmly. “Around Kansas. If no one is getting the cattle to Sedalia anyway, then we’re still likely to be the first ones to get them to the northern market.”

“I wasn’t aware of any trails that went around Kansas,” Kit said.

“Far as I know, there aren’t any,” Dan informed him.

“So we’ll blaze a new trail,” Harrison said.

“Which will make the trek a bit more arduous,” Kit said. “Not to mention longer.”

“Then let’s compromise. Map out a new route in case it’s needed. Meanwhile, I will continue to scout ahead—”

“And risk being killed?”

Harrison shook his head in frustration. “Tom, how many men attacked you?”

Tom looked up as though still trying to determine what had happened and where he was. “Six. Seven.”

Harrison met Kit’s gaze. “Listen to me. They were two boys with fifty head of cattle. We’re three thousand head and over two dozen men carting guns that they are not afraid to use. A half dozen men will not attempt to stop us.”

“I don’t share your confidence,” Kit said.

“I don’t like your idea of going alone,” Jessye said.

Harrison gritted his teeth. “I am less likely to attract attention if I am alone.”

“A woman and a man traveling are less—”

“But you are not dressed like a woman.” He cursed himself at the pain that flashed in her eyes. “I simply
meant that they are not going to realize you are a woman until they are close enough to see you clearly, and if they are that close, I don’t want you there.”

She angled her chin, and he knew he had no hope of winning the battle.

“I’m going.” She spun on her heel and strode from the camp.

Kit chuckled. “I see you two kissed and made up.”

Harrison glared at him. “You’re going to pay dearly for that little prank you played.”

Kit grinned. “Someday, Harry, you’ll thank me.”

As Jessye dismounted and led her horse to the small stream, she couldn’t imagine why she’d insisted on accompanying Harry on this trek. The silence between them stretched tauter than a hangman’s rope once the trapdoor had sprung open.

The sun had passed straight overhead a few hours before. Gauging distance was not her strong suit, but she suspected that they needed to head back soon if they wanted to make camp by nightfall.

“Today’s journey makes me wonder if we aren’t on a fool’s errand,” Harry murmured as he hunkered down at the water’s edge.

She heard the displeasure in his voice. “I thought we all agreed it was best to have a look-see before we brought the cattle through.”

“I’m not questioning the wisdom of caution. I’m only wondering why we haven’t crossed paths with anyone.”

“You suspect something?”

His hat shadowed his face, making it impossible to figure out what he might be thinking.

“Perhaps we should have brought a few cattle with us—something to stir up the dust and make some noise. Something to draw attention so we might discern what dangers our passing might arouse.”

“Reckon we could do that tomorrow.”

He swept his hat from his head, and his gaze came to rest on her. “If it increases our chance of running into danger, I’d rather someone else accompany me.”

“It’s all right for you to be in danger, but not me? I’m not some mealymouthed spinster who’s afraid of her own shadow.”

He unfolded his body. “I never insinuated that you were. Why must you take exception to any suggestion I make to protect you?”

“I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself.”

“Why do you persist in proving you’re courageous? No one doubts that, least of all me. But a woman is susceptible to far greater dangers than men.”

“I’m not weak, Harry!”

“I never said you were.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her against him. Fire blazed within his eyes. “But neither are you completely safe.”

He slashed his mouth across hers, demanding surrender. Instinct warned her to fight, but her heart urged her to yield. And yield she did, her body melting against his, her soft curves pressing against sturdy muscles that had hardened in the passing months of working with cattle.

With a guttural groan, he plunged his tongue into her mouth with a rapacious hunger. If he sought to frighten her, he failed miserably, because she knew he wouldn’t harm her. Despite his words, with him she was safe.

He gentled the kiss, and his victory became hers, the outcome of the battle determined before it ever began. His strong hands tenderly cradled her face, tilting her head to accommodate his needs, to increase her pleasure. This kiss was more devastating than any that had come before it because now she knew what to expect, knew the difference between the kiss of a man and the kiss of a gangly, awkward boy. Harry’s kiss was born of experience, hers of desperation. She cursed herself for wanting him as badly as she did, knowing he wasn’t a man to share his heart.

He trailed his hot lips along her throat. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he murmured. “I thought these weeks of exile would lessen the desire that plagues me.” He lifted his head, met her gaze, and with his fingers, gently brushed the stray curling strands back from her face. “The gravest danger you face lies within me.”

She combed her fingers up into his black hair. “I don’t care.”

He chuckled low. “You should.”

His mouth covered hers, undemanding, without challenge. They were on even ground. She reveled in the knowledge as she slid her arms around his neck and raised up on the tips of her toes.

“Now, ain’t that sweet,” a deep voice mocked.

Jessye jerked back. Wearing buckskin britches and a fringed jacket, Gerald Milton sat astride a brown horse, six men behind him, guns drawn. “Gerald, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“First off, I’m here to get back the money your
fiancé
stole from me.”

Harry stepped before her, using his arm to move
her behind him. “I did not steal any money.”

One side of Gerald’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “Nobody wins that many hands of poker without cheatin’.”

Jessye stepped in front of Harry, her heart thundering. After her meeting with Madeline, she’d completely forgotten to ask Harry where he’d obtained money for supplies. “You played poker with him?”

“Be quiet,” he insisted as he pushed her so she was once again behind him.

“Yep, he showed up a little after midnight. Ain’t never seen a man shuffle a deck with one hand before.”

“A skill my grandfather taught me. But I assure you I didn’t cheat. I lost several hands.”

“But you never lost one to me, which I found mighty interestin’. Now, I want my money back.”

“I don’t have it. We used the money to purchase supplies.”

“Well now, that’s just too bad.”

Jessye watched with trepidation as Gerald gave a slight signal and his men dismounted.

“I tell you what we’ll do,” Gerald said. “We’ll do a little swappin’. You just leave them supplies with your cattle. Me and my boys will gather them all up tomorrow.”

“Are you implying that we turn our supplies and cattle over to you without a fight?” Harry asked.

“That’s right.”

“Expecting a snowstorm in hell, are you?”

Gerald’s mouth grew hard. “Stretch him for me, boys.”

Jessye watched in horror as the men descended on
Harry like a swarm of locusts. “No!” she screamed, hearing him grunt. She reached for her gun, but strong fingers closed around her wrist and stopped her from drawing.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She jerked her gaze to Gerald. “Why are you doing this?”

“Gotta enforce the laws of Kansas. Your cattle ain’t comin’ through.”

“You’re as bad as the jayhawkers.”

As he dragged her back, Gerald’s laughter drowned the grunts and moans of Harry’s struggles, his body blocked from her view. “We
are
the jayhawkers, darlin’.”

“You killed all those cattle,” she said, the surety nauseating her.

“Yeah, I sure hated doin’ that, but example is the best teacher.”

She bucked when her back hit the hard bark of a tree trunk, but his iron grip tightened around her. As Gerald pressed his body against hers to hold her in place, someone grabbed her arms, jerked them back, and tied her hands behind the tree. The rope bit into her wrists, the bark dug into her back. A cold shiver of revulsion slithered up her spine as he trailed his knuckles over her cheek.

“God, Jessye, I’d forgotten how spittin’ mad you could get.”

She took satisfaction in the feel of her booted foot making contact with his shin. Howling, he jumped back.

He narrowed his eyes into blue slits of rage. “You bitch.”

Fighting the urge to cower, she angled her chin and slid her gaze past him. Her stomach roiled, and she slammed her eyes closed against the sight of Harry, trussed up like a steer about to be branded. His arms over his head, his hands and feet were bound, the rope stretched taut, the ends wound around the saddle horns of two skittish horses that the riders were having trouble controlling. She could only imagine the humiliation coursing through him.

The fight drained from her like water through a sieve. She opened her eyes and met Gerald’s hard glare. She saw no remnants of the young man she’d loved. “Let him go.”

Gerald smiled in triumph. “Be happy to.” He sauntered over and stood slightly behind her, well out of reach of her foot. He fondled her breast, and she wanted to die of mortification.

“You send him and his friend back to Fortune—with nothin’ but their lives. You and me will take the cattle north, and we’ll split the profits.” His breath was cold against her ear. “You can warm my bed at night just like you did all them years back.”

“She’s not giving you anything, you bloody bastard!”

Jessye jerked her gaze to Harry, and her breath backed up in her lungs. Although bound, he lay in magnificent defiance, his hands clenched, his muscles bulging, his emerald eyes filled with fury. She thought if he managed to gain his freedom, he’d break Gerald in half like a stale loaf of bread.

Chuckling, Gerald released Jessye and swaggered toward his other prisoner. “That so?” He brought his leg back and kicked Harry in the side. Jessye jerked
as Harry recoiled and grunted, but the ropes kept him from curling into a ball.

“You’re gonna head back into Texas,” Gerald growled.

She saw Harry’s jaw clench. “I think not.”

Jessye flinched when Gerald kicked him again. “Gerald, stop it!” she cried.

Breathing heavily, Gerald stepped back. “Only if he gives me his word that he’ll walk back to Texas.”

Jessye opened her mouth to tell Harry to say whatever he needed to in order to save his skin. This time the cards weren’t stacked in his favor, and she desperately wanted him to fold his hand.

“Not bloody likely,” Harry said, his accent more pronounced, more haughty.

Gerald took a menacing step toward him, but Harry neither flinched nor cowered, which seemed to anger Gerald more. “Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll fix it so you can’t walk anywhere.”

Gerald mounted his horse and jerked back on the reins, causing the horse to whinny and rear up. Terror ripped through Jessye.

“Gerald, you can have the cattle,” Jessye yelled.

Harry pinned her with his gaze. “He bloody well cannot!”

“It’s not worth it, Harry.”

“We will not surrender the cattle,” Harry ground out, but in his eyes she recognized that he wasn’t truly referring to the cattle. He meant his own surrender—and for the first time, she realized the true gravity of the situation.

“You gonna give me the cattle, Jessye?” Gerald asked.

Within Harry’s eyes, she found not only her answer but also her strength. “No.”

Gerald laughed. “Then I’ll kill him.”

“I’ll rise up from the bowels of hell and drag you into Satan’s realm to keep me company.”

She’d never heard Harry’s voice carry such vehemence, and she almost believed he meant every word he’d spoken. Gerald hesitated only a heartbeat before he reared his horse up and brought him down. She heard the sickening snap of a bone and Harry’s strangled cry.

The horse whinnied and reared up. Its hooves churned the air before they slammed down on Harry’s legs. Harry groaned. The two men sitting astride the horses to which the ropes were secured urged the animals back until they lifted Harry off the ground. The other men yelled and cheered.

Jessye closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Dear God.” Tears stung her eyes as the cacophony of obscene noises grew hideous: the men’s jeers, Harry’s cries, the horses snorting and screaming, and Gerald’s constant stream of curses. Nothing on God’s green earth was worth this torment.