Under a Texas Star (4 page)

"No, but chances are we'll run into trouble sometime on the trail. We'll come out all right. You're travelling with a Texas Ranger." He gave her a lazy smile. "Smart folk don't mess with Texas Rangers."

Vigilantly, Marly sat out her watch. She stood and stretched a couple of times, careful not to disturb Jase. Twice, she thought she heard something approaching the campfire. It was either her imagination or whatever it was thought better of bothering them.

It seemed Jase was determined not only to look out for her, but to teach her to look out for herself. It was unlikely that he suspected she was a girl. This left her with mixed feelings. Mostly, she was pleased she could perform her part so well. But beneath the guise of the charming, willful lad was the heart of a young woman with vanity enough to want to be considered attractive and feminine.

She replayed her shooting lesson in her mind. In her imagination, Jase's arms wrapped around her, guiding her shots. Then, taking the revolver back, he turned her in his arms and gazed lovingly down at her before letting loose her braid. Fingering the curls, he told her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.

Except, she thought, my hair would be matted with dust from the trail and the layers of clothing between us would hamper the kind of romantic scene I'd read about in the penny dreadfuls I'd hidden from Aunt Adele.

What she needed was a dress, but certainly not any dress she'd owned in her life. She needed a petticoat with an easy to loosen ribbon at the neck and maybe some ruffles. Though why she'd be wearing such a garment during a shooting lesson was hard to imagine.

When the moon reached its zenith, she gently roused Jase to take his watch. They exchanged a few words, then she took his place between the covers of his bedroll. She had not realized how tense or how chilled she had become until she relaxed under the blankets. They were still warm from Jase's body.

For a few pleasant moments, she dwelt on that thought.

Then fatigue plunged her into slumber.

Morning came too quickly.

Determined not to be a burden, Marly shoved aside her blanket and pretended that she wasn't dead tired. With the help of fresh coffee and biscuits, she managed to convince herself that she was well rested.

By the time the sun was visible on the horizon, they were on their way. Though she was sore in places she didn't like to mention, riding that early had its benefits. The landscape was beautiful in the dawn light. Later in the day, the sun would bleach the color out of the scenery. For now, everything was vibrant and the scent of sage wafted on the breeze.

Ahead of them lay the Sacramento mountain range. Around them, the plateau was so flat Marly could see the dust of riders far in the distance. No one came any closer than that.

Mid-morning, they stopped and let the horses graze for half an hour before setting off again. Around noon, Jase pointed out a good place for lunch, with grazing for the horses and a little shade. They dined on jerky and leftover biscuits from breakfast. Everything tasted wonderful.

But she was bone tired. She yearned for a nap.

"Come on, kid. We can get some target practice in while the horses rest."

Marly suppressed a groan. She ran through the possible responses that boys she knew might have. Target practice wasn't a chore, therefore dragging her heels wasn't appropriate. Maybe he'd put his arms around her again.

More cheerfu
l, she hitched up her pants and set her hat forward to shade her eyes after smoothing back sweat-soaked tendrils of hair.

"Not much to shoot at," she remarked.

She pulled a leaf of dry grass and used it dislodge a piece of jerky from between her teeth―an a
ction as unladylike as it was practical.

"We'll aim at the tops of the tall grass," Jase said.

Marly was required to repeat back all his lessons from the day before. Then he pointed to a stalk and let her shoot.

"You missed."

"I did not. I hit the one I was aiming at."

"Then you were aiming at the wrong one."

She pushed her hat back and gave him a hard stare.

Jase sighed and pulled a thread from his bandana. He marched into the long grass, tied the thread around one of the stalks and returned to her side.

"Okay," he said. "Can you see your target now?"

Marly aimed, fired and missed. She shook off her irritation, and after a moment of squinting at the grass, she tried again.

The top of the stalk disappeared.

Jase set up another four stalks. With careful aim, Marly hit each one. Then he threw a rock in the air. She nicked it, sending it spinning. She shot at it again, but was out of ammunition.

"We'll work on your loading skills later," Jase said, taking the gun. "We'd best rest a bit." Settling in the shade, he pulled a book out of his saddlebag and started reading.

Marly flopped down on the hard ground, irked at the lack of appreciation for her improving skills. After all, a day ago she had never even held a handgun, much less fired one. Jase hadn't seemed to notice how much better she was at riding either.

She considered sulking, but decided it was too much effort. It was much easier to stake a claim to a patch of shade and imagine saving Jase from some undefined danger. And rubbing his nose in it.

Jase gave
Marly's shoulder a gentle shake. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other and he was tempted to say something―if he could think of something that wouldn't cause trouble.

Instead, he stood and gave her a ha
nd up.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked, her attention shifting from the sun to the saddled horses, then back to him.

"Couple of hours. You looked like you needed it."

She shuffled her feet. "Did you sleep?"

"I rested my eyes a bit.

Again, their gaze met and he resisted the urge to tell her he knew she was no boy. She broke contact first this time and began to brush dirt and dried grass off her clothes.

"Tomorrow, we'll just rest at noontime," he said. "Target practice can wait until the evenin'. You're pretty good. I might just make a sharpshooter out of you."

He saw pleasure, pride and just a touch of preening flit across her face before she thanked him for the compliment. Squelching a gallant impulse to help her into the saddle, he swung up onto Grandee. He waited as she mounted Trouble with only a little difficulty.

Jase, he thought, you are riding the trail to Perdition. And I don't mean the half-dozen mining towns of the same name.

He had told Marly that he picked this trail because it was shorter. Loo
king at a map, it seemed shorter than the stage route. If they rode hard, it could be a faster route―but he had no intention of riding hard.

He told himself that he picked the trail to give him time to prepare Marly for what was ahead. That plan would make
sense if she actually was a boy who needed a mentor to keep him alive and on the right side of the law. Instead of teaching her to ride, shoot and track, he should have spent his time finding out who Aunt Adele was and sending the girl home. Now he was stuck with the masquerade until trail's end. Or until he admitted he was a fool.

Before stopping for the night, he shot a rabbit for dinner. The sound startled Marly, who was staring dreamily into the setting sun. It upset Trouble too and he unseated her. Both gave Jase an indignant glare.

"Get used to it," he advised, squelching the desire to apologize. Or laugh.

Later, Marly skinned the rabbit with practiced ease. She rubbed the flesh with fresh sage she'd picked. Next, she gathered fuel for the fire and salt from their supplies. She skewered the rabbit and set it to roast above the fire. After burying the head and offal away from the camp, she set to the task of scraping the skin.

"Another skill your aunt taught you?" Jase asked as he worked on his chore of cleaning weapons.

"The older I got, the more Aunt Adele expected me to cook. She was busy teaching and doing church work. Rabbit and chicken were the meats I most often had to put on the table."

"You prepare them, but you won't shoot them?"

"I'm not against hunting for food. I've killed chickens. And Aunt Adele had me help butcher the hog she bought one year. I didn't like it much." She chewed her bottom lip. "Some folks enjoy killing. I don't. I guess I'll do it if I have to."

"You can leave the hunting to me."

After the meal, Jase pulled out the battered book he'd been reading and offered it to Marly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sensing an unasked question, he added, "Many cowboys carry the Bible on the trail. I once met a man who carried Plutarch's Lives. I prefer Shakespeare."

"I didn't know this about you."

"Well, now you do." He closed his eyes, recalling Marly's earlier words.
"Some folks enjoy killing."

He hoped that wasn't how she saw him. He didn't think of himself as a killer, but he couldn't deny that death was part of his stock in trade.

As he dozed off, he remembered the feel of Marly's body against his. He imagined taking her in his arms, pulling her close and devouring her with kisses.

Would she return those kisses or shy away from him?

Just past midnight, Jase woke to the smell of coffee. As he stretched, Marly glanced up from the book and gave him a warm smile.

Coffee, company and that smile sure beats waking up alone, he thought.

Then he tasted the coffee. Good God.

He didn't mean to be rude. The expression on his face was a natural reflex.

"It's not very good," she admitted, "but if you sip it slowly, I guarantee you won't fall asleep."

He nodded toward the book. "Which one are you reading?"

"As You Like It."

"Maybe it's time I reread that one."

A suspicious frown creased Marly's brow. "Really."

"It's one of my favorites," he added. Although he'd always thought a girl dressing up as a boy to be a bit improbable.

They switched places. She tucked down into his bedroll and he draped the blanket around his shoulders to keep the chill off his back.

He wondered if she accepted this arrangement as convention, or whether she knew that he gave up his warm covers for her sake.

"Do you regret taking me along?" she asked, startling him. "I've been a lot of trouble and I know I'm slowing you down."

He had no idea what to say.

"It has crossed my mind," she said, "that for a fraction of the cost, you could have put me on a stage for El Paso."

"Is that what you want?"

"No!"

Trouble gave an indignant whinny.

In a softer tone, Marly said, "Though I have someplace to be, I'm not in a big hurry to get there. I have to the end of the month to get to El Paso. That's still twenty-three days away."

"I know it's not the business of the Texas Rangers, but do you think you could tell me why you're goin' to El Paso?"

Marly rolled over on her back and stared at the stars. When she spoke, her tone was detached. "At the end of the month, maybe a bit later, a package should be arriving with my
name on it. I didn't send it, but I've got to receive it or a lot of people will lose their savings. If I can, I also want to catch the guy who used my name―and me―to cheat my friends."

"Sounds like it could be Ranger business."

"The crime was committed in
Kansas. Notices went out. The common wisdom seems to be that the folks of Cherryville should learn from their mistakes and get on with it."

"But that's not good enough for Marly Landers," Jase remarked without rancor.

"Nope."

"What's this bandito's name?"

"Charlie Meese. Though I think he's used other names."

"No doubt." He had a bad taste in his mouth. "Get some sleep, Marly. We're a couple of days out of Fortuna and El Paso is a four-day ride from there. I'll get you there in plenty of time to take care
of your business."

And his.

Chapter 4

Fortuna was a frontier town west of the Pecos River, a synonym for wild. Law had reached it―just barely. The town was on the Sunset Trail, the southernmost overland route to California. Spring and summer saw a season
al growth of the town with the movement of wagon trains. The rest of the year, it was the center of commerce for the area's residents. Since these included cattle, sheep and horse ranchers, plus a few stubborn homesteaders, a handful of itinerant prospectors and 'civilized' Indians, Fortuna was a lively spot year round.

Jase's plan was to stock up and move on, which didn't impress Marly much, especially when he told her the second half of their trek to El Paso would be longer, with harder trails, colder nights and a chance of trouble from man and nature.

"We'll be stayin' at The Oasis," he said. "Friend of mine owns the saloon."

"The
saloon
?"

"One of them. Last time I was through Fortuna, there were three, not counting the dance hall that burned down. 'Course, that was a couple of years ago now."

Given the picture he drew, Marly was surprised that her first sight of Fortuna was a shining white church spire.

"You didn't say anything about a church," she said.

"New to me. There used to be a meetin' hall for services. Caught fire the same night the dance hall went up in flames."

The steeple of the church acted as a beacon. She watched it change color, graying as the amber sun set behind it. By the time they crossed the river that defined the town's east boundary, the church was barely visible in the twilight. Then it disappeared altogether as the intervening houses blocked the church from view.

To the right, lanterns illuminated front porches and windows glowed golden-yellow. On the left, open fires cast eerie flickering lights on tents and shacks built in and around burned ruins of a building.

She shivered. "Who lives there?"

"The old. The outcasts. Every society's got its fringes. That's Fortuna's."

"Was that the dance hall or the meeting hall?"

"Both. They were side-by-side. With the livery over there." He pointed down the road. "They were the town's first buildings."

Marly got her first glimpse of The Oasis just before turning down Main Street. It was an impressive two-story building set back from the road. A wide veranda wrapped around it and there was a balcony above. Both had hanging lanterns and flower baskets. It looked like a respectable but expensive hotel and seemed out of place in a frontier town.

Then they turned the corner.

The hotel was a bright star on the darkened street. The veranda widened, serving as a sidewalk. The lanterns burned brighter and were augmented by the light pouring out of the open casement windows and French doors. The main entrance was at the end of the block, angled to face out onto the intersection. Hanging from the balcony above the entrance was a sign decorated with flowering cactus and desert roses.

The Oasis
, it proclaimed in flowery script.

"This place is a hotel?" Marly asked with disbelief.

"Not properly speakin'." Jase dismounted and indicated she should do the same. "There are rooms you can rent. They're kind of expensive, but they come with perks."

"How expensive?"

He flipped the reins over the rail and ignored her.

"How expensive?" she repeated, pursuing him up the stairs.

At the door, he took a deep breath. "They tend to be rented by the hour."

"Oh."

With a shrug, she followed him inside and once over the threshold, she stopped, transfixed.

The first time she tried to get work in a saloon was at the Palace in Wichita, Kansas. The size and opulence of the place intimidated her and the scantily clad ladies were shocking to a small town girl. She wasn't sorry to find they didn't need her.

The Oasis wasn't quite as big as the Palace, or as crowded. In every other way, it exceeded Wichita's finest.

Marly was knocked aside by a brick of a man in a smock coat. He grunted something inarticulate and made a beeline to one of the green baize-covered tables where other gentlemen were engaged in a card game. Beyond the card tables was an ignored roulette wheel.

"Excuse me," a female voice briskly.

Marly dodged an attractive, boldly dressed woman with a gaping bodice and a delicately painted face. She was one of several ladies that seemed to float like wheeled dolls, gliding between the casino area and the linen draped tables set for diners. They were nothing like the saloon women Marly had encountered in her travels, who at best could claim a shabby glamour.

"Don't stare," Jase said. "It ain't polite."

He had removed his hat upon entering and now shooed her with it toward the bar.

She nodded, then came to an abrupt halt.

Hanging above the mirrors behind the bar was the biggest painting she had ever seen. Rendered in vivid oil color, a voluptuous, auburn-haired Amazon was draped and posed in a suggestive manner. It was so lifelike that Marly's jaw dropped and a deep flush rose in her cheeks.

"If the boy's like that over my painting," a deep, throaty voice said, "what's he gonna do when he meets the real thing?"

Marly turned, musk perfume hitting her like a gut punch.

The Amazon woman from the painting stepped toward her. The glitter of colored sequins on the woman's skintight gown dazzled her as a bejeweled hand lifted her chin, closing her mouth. Through long, dark lashes, green eyes scrutinized Marly. Sculpted brows arched slightly. Then the hand dropped.

"A little young for The Oasis, isn't he, Jase?"

"The boy's old enough to have supper here."

Jase rested a heavy hand on Marly's shoulder. He pulled her in close to him, removed her hat and smoothed her hair.

Marly grabbed her hat back and held it in a tight fist.

"This is Marly Landers," he said. "He's in my charge for the time being. Marly, I would like to present my old
―"

"Not
old
, sugar."

"My
good
friend," he corrected, "and proprietor of this establishment, Jezebel."

Still nauseous from the perfume, Marly managed a small, insincere smile. "Ma'am."

"Charmed," Jezebel replied with equal insincerity.

Jase took the woman's
arm. "Got a room for us, Jez? We've been on the trail a spell and could use a bath and a proper bed."

"You always got a room here, sugar," she purred, leading them to the dining room. "Come and join me at my table. Happens I was just about to have Fred bring me my supper anyhow."

Jezebel's table was not hard to pick out. It was the only one on the raised stage beside the curved staircase. On the back wall, sconces dripping with faceted crystals bracketed long gilt-framed mirrors. The table itself was cherry wood, like the bar. So was the throne-like armchair that faced the room.

Standing next to the chair was a dignified-looking man with iron-gray hair, wearing a formal black, swallow-tail suit. He greeted Jase with a nod of recognition before holding Jezebel's chair.

Marly felt sick. It wasn't just the smell of perfume. Jase was ruggedly handsome, regardless of trail-worn clothes and untrimmed whiskers, whereas she looked plain and dirty. The only consolation she had in seeing her image in the mirror was the knowledge that her masquerade was safe. Besides, she wasn't one to spend her money on frivolous fancy dresses or face paint. Nor would Aunt Adele ever have allowed her these.

Still...

"What do you wanna eat?"Jase asked, interrupting her depressing thoughts.

"Not hungry," she whispered.

He frowned. "Since when?"

She sneezed from the perfume, gave a loud sniff and plopped into a chair. "Can I have a beer?"

Jase hesitated, pressing his lips together.

Her act was probably amusing him.

She arched one brow. "Well?"

"No. And don't try tellin' me you're old enough either."

Marly had a good ear and managed a fair imitation of Jase's thickest accent. "I reckon you ain't got any call to chew me out. I just stretched the truth a mite."

"Do we have sarsaparilla, Fred?" Jezebel asked the man in the suit.

"Milk," Jase said.

Marly pouted. "But I want beer."

"Milk," he repeated.

She sniffed loudly. "I'm leaving."

Jase caught her by the wrist as she stood. He looked puzzled and not at all amused.

"I'm not hungry," she said, giving him a look of quiet desperation.

He relented. At least, his eyes told her that he relented.

"Fine. Go." He spoke as though he were talking to a recalcitrant child.

This infuriated her, but she stifled a response.

Fred cleared his throat. "I've taken the liberty of having your things taken up to room five, Master Jason."

His accent was British, Marly reckoned, and well-educated.

"Your mounts, of course, are being seen to," he added. "I will have bath water sent up after I take your orders for supper. Master Landers, I'll show you to your room."

Jezebel sighed. "Ain't he a jewel?"

"I'll be up later," Jase called out as Marly followed Fred up the stairs. "And I'll be checking behind your ears."

She paused, biting back a retort. Then she took the stairs two at a time.

Jase watched Marly leave, wishing he could follow her. He also wished he had forewarned her about The Oasis. He should have known the place would overwhelm her.

"Quite a handful," Jezebel said. "Where did he come from?"

"Kansas."

"I mean, what's he doing with you?"

For a moment, he was tempted to tell Jezebel the truth.

"His parents are dead." He moved to Marly's abandoned seat. "You might say I'm his self-appointed guardian 'til he finds other relatives."

A waiter bearing a silver tray placed a goblet of wine before Jezebel and a tankard of beer in front of Jase.

"You're a Ranger," Jezebel said, taking a sip of wine. "Didn't you tell me once that Rangers can't tie themselves down with family?"

"It's temporary, Jez. He's looking for a relation in El Paso. That's where we're headed."

Jezebel's brow puckered. "You mean you're not here to replace Strothers?"

"Ellery Strothers? I thought he left the Rangers."

"Strothers accepted the post of town marshal last fall. He didn't exactly endear himself to everyone around here. About a week back, he was killed. I thought you knew. Rumor has it, one of Egan's men shot him."

"Good lord, Jezebel, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Well, I wired the boys in Austin right off, Jase. When I saw you, I figured they sent you to handle the case. I asked for you particularly." She smiled. "I had to get you back here somehow."

Jase sighed. "I'll wire Austin tomorrow. I'm here now and I suppose the other business can wait. You better fill me in."

"Later."

As if on cue, a convoy of waiters ascended the stage and set out a repast fit for a queen.

"We got plenty of time, Jase."

"All right. We can talk business first thing tomorrow, over breakfast."

Jezebel glared. "You know I don't do mornings, sugar."

When he said nothing, she heaved a sigh, then nodded.

He suspected she wasn't through trying to change his mind.

At the top of the stairs, Marly and Fred were met by a stately woman with raven hair streaked with silver. Unlike the ladies downstairs, her gown was modest and simple.

"You are with Señor Strachan?"

"Yes, ma'am," Marly said.

"We will get you settled. I am Señora Consuela Mercedes Domintado de Vegas."

"Marly Landers."

"Come, Señor Landers. This way." She eyed Fred. "I'll take things from here. Gracias, Señor Fred."

With a rustle of silk, Señora de Vegas led Marly down the hall to the last door but one. It had no number.

"What's that?" Marly pointed to the unmarked door.

"That is Señorita Jezebel's quarters." She opened the door to room five. "This is your room. It is reserved for special guests of the Señorita."

Marly gave a long whistle.

The room was impressive. A four-poster bed was the centerpiece. Draped with red velvet, it dominated the room. An ornate footed bathtub with a cherub decorated cover sat between a bronze trimmed stove and the window. Closer examination revealed a pipe leading from the tub through the exterior wall.

"It drains?"

"Si," Señora de Vegas replied. "It drains."

Marly shook her head in wonderment. She explored the rest of the room and found their saddlebags sitting in the wardrobe. Hanging above them was a red-striped nightshirt and red quilted satin dressing gown.