An Unlikely Lady (14 page)

As soon as she nodded, Robert flicked his hand and the muzzle fell away from her mouth. Honesty sucked in a deep breath and licked her lips, which had gone numb from the pressure against them. “I thought you were dead,” she said when she could finally speak.

“Yes, I'm sure that distresses you greatly, but as you can see, I am alive and well—no thanks to your father.”

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “How did you find me?”

“Why, we followed the signs! ‘Sweetest Songbird in the West'—that could only be you.”

Oh, God. She'd known the stupid performance would bring nothing but trouble.

“Now, if you just tell us where your father is, I might be persuaded to let you go.”

“My father?” Obviously neither of them was aware that Deuce had died from their shoot
out. She had no idea what they wanted with him, but instinct told her to keep that bit of information to herself. “I don't know where he is. He left me just outside Durango. I haven't seen him in months.”

Her jaw was suddenly seized in a brutal grip. To Honesty's shame, tears of pain and fear burned at the back of her eyes.

“Don't lie to me, Honesty, I'm in no mood for your games. Either tell me where McGuire is hiding or I'll have to resort to measures neither of us wants.”

She had not a single doubt that Robert meant what he said. The look on his face when he'd shot at them in the alley was as fresh in her mind today as it was the day it had happened. “He's gone, I tell you. And he won't be coming back.”

“What are we gonna do now, ‘Bert?”

“What we should have done in the beginning.” Robert released his grip on her jaw and glanced at his brother. “Fetch the horses. We're taking her with us.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, yes you are. Your father and I had an arrangement, and he welched on it. But once he learns that we have you, he'll either come to his senses and tell us where he hid the money, or we'll kill you.”

Money? Honesty's stomach sank.
Oh, Papa, what have you done now?
“What money?”

“The million dollars McGuire told us he stashed away,” Roscoe hissed in her ear.

Honesty's eyes bulged and she almost laughed at the absurdity. “A million dollars? Surely you didn't believe him!” Honesty didn't know what shocked her more: her father's outrageous claim or Robert's gullibility. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Is that why you were so nice to me? Because you thought my father . . . that he . . . ? Great goose eggs, Robert, Deuce McGuire never had more than two nickels to rub together. And when he did, it was gone almost as soon as got it. He
swindled
you! Just as he has swindled countless other buffoons in his lifetime.”

Honesty realized too late that she'd stepped on a nerve; Robert's face turned a mottled red and she feared that he would take a swing at her.

“I am
not
a
buffoon.
Nor am I a man to be trifled with. Either you tell me where McGuire is, or you tell us where the money is hidden. Otherwise . . .” The pale blue eyes she'd found so alluring long ago turned to ice and he smiled coldly. “Well, let's just say that Roscoe here hasn't been with a woman in a good long while.”

The image painting itself in her mind sent dread through each nerve ending, and a chill broke out along her arms. Her father had one
significant flaw: a penchant for exaggeration. If Robert was to be believed—and she had no reason yet to doubt his story—Deuce had entered into some sort of agreement with Robert that involved, of all things, a hidden fortune.

And they expected her to produce it.

The truth is hidden in the flowing stones.

A shocking thought occurred—what if it wasn't one of his numerous exaggerations? What if the truth he wanted her to find was indeed a fortune? The notion seemed too ludicrous to consider, but at the same time, it would explain why she'd been the object of a hunt these last few months.

At this point, though, it didn't matter whether the money existed or not; Robert and his brother believed it did, which left her in a precarious situation. She could continue to deny any knowledge of her father's whereabouts and leave herself at the mercy of the hulking brute, or profess to know where the money was hidden—which might persuade them to let her go, but would also leave room for retaliation once they realized she'd sent them on a wild-goose chase. Neither option held much appeal.

Think, Honesty, think!
If only she could buy herself some time . . . “All right, I'll take you to my father.”

“No, you'll tell us where to find him.”

“No, I will
take
you to him. And if you or your brother lays one hand on me before we get there, I'll see to it that you never find him.”

An hour before dawn, Jesse awoke to a herd of longhorns stampeding through his skull. Gingerly he sat up, slid his legs over the edge of the mattress, and cradled his pounding head. He gave up trying to figure out how he'd made it into his own bed; at least he hadn't gone to Honesty's room last night and made a complete fool of himself. And he'd managed to earn an unexpected break on McGuire. Not that he much cottoned to the idea of traveling to Texas on the word of two bad seeds, but he didn't see that he had much choice. Right now, it was the only lead he had on McGuire's whereabouts.

Every sound, every movement, every breath sent excruciating waves of pain through his head as he dragged himself out of bed with agonizing slowness, but he figured a hangover was the least he deserved for being stupidly over-indulgent. He managed to dress himself without throwing up, then collected his saddlebags and hat. As soon as he settled up with Rose, he and Gemini would quit this place.

As he passed Honesty's closed door he briefly considered telling her goodbye, then thought better of it. The farther he stayed from
the little firebrand, the sooner he'd forget her, and the better off he'd be. He'd kept his word to Rose; his debt was paid. Time to kick the dust of this one-horse town from his heels.

With grim determination, he descended the stairs. None of their overnight guests were up and about yet and he'd managed to chase off the troublesome duo in the wee hours of the morning, which left the main room empty and hollow. Hard to believe that only last night, the place had been nearly busting at the seams with people. He hoped Rose had made enough profit to tide her over for a while.

He found her in the kitchen, taking an enameled pot off the stove. The glare from the window drove blinding shards of pain through his brain and his system rebelled at the pungent odor of brewed coffee. “Mornin', Scarlet,” he whispered gruffly.

“Mornin' Jesse. You're up early, and lookin' a bit green around the gills.” She poured him a cup of coffee and after adding a generous dose of whiskey, set it on the table. “Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better.”

Just the thought of putting one more drop of liquor down his gullet, turned his stomach. “No thanks, Scarlet. I think I'll just be on my way.”

“I expected as much.” She set the pot on the stove and claimed the cup for herself. “In fact,
I'm surprised you haven't gone after Honesty sooner. Any fool with eyes could see that the two of you were taken with each other.”

It took several seconds for the remark to register. “Wait—did you say Honesty left?”

“‘Bout ten, fifteen minutes ago. You didn't know?”

He shook his head, then regretted it when the longhorns stampeded again.

“But I thought she was . . . Well, I guess it don't matter now what I thought. Fact is, I was wrong, and I don't mind tellin' you that I don't like the idea of her goin' off on her own,” Rose said.

He didn't much like it, either. For all her gutsy determination, she didn't have a clue about what dangers she might face chasing after that gypsy brother of hers.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to reject her request . . .

Nope, nope, nope. By God, he'd let himself get sidetracked too many times to let it happen again. Honesty was a grown woman. He'd told her already that he had a job to do, and by God, he'd not let her or anyone else delay him another second.

No sooner did Jesse draw his pay from Rose than a ruckus outside brought the pair of them to the window. Clouds of dust rolled between
the saloon and the horse stalls, obscuring the source of the noise.

Jesse threw open the back door and raced outside with Rose not far behind, and shaded his eyes from the choking dust. In the distance, he could barely make out the shapes of three riders heading for the hills: two men and one woman.

Honesty.

On his horse.

“Hey! She stole my horse!”

Rose clutched his arm. “Jesse, she wouldn't do that.”

“She just did, goddamn it!” And no doubt the conniving little wench had been planning this since he'd turned down her request: grab the first two suckers she could find, and charm them into helping her find her brother. But if she thought he'd let her get away with swiping Gemini, she had another think coming.

Jesse plugged two fingers between his teeth and gave a sharp whistle. Gemini skidded to a stop and reared, and Jesse's heart dropped as Honesty rolled off the mustang's back end. Instantly, she picked herself off the ground and started running toward the saloon. The bigger of her companions seized Gemini's reins, while the other man swerved around and headed her off.

“Oh, shit,” Jesse whispered, the blood draining from his face as he watched Honesty get plucked up into the second man's saddle.

It took only a second for him to recognize the men: his no-account informants from the previous night. He had no idea why they'd come back to Last Hope after he'd chased them off, unless . . .

Shit. They couldn't have figured out that it had been
his
testimony that had helped send them to prison six years ago. His hair had been shorter and dark, and a waxed mustache supported the impression of the wealthy railroad investor he'd played at the time to catch them for fraud.

But one thing was abundantly clear: Honesty was not with the Treat brothers of her own free will. The question was, why had they taken her?

A string of female curses punctured the air. “Jesse, do something!”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he bellowed in helpless fury. “They've got my horse!”

Rose abruptly pushed him toward the stalls. “Take Bag-o'-Bones.”

“That pitiful plug? I'll be lucky if I can get him out of the stall!”

“Well, you've got to try. He's slow but he's steady, and he's better than nothing.”

Rose was right. He couldn't just let Honesty be stolen out from under their noses, and as much as it galled him, the mule was his only chance of rescuing her.

B
y the second or third day on the trail—Honesty was starting to lose count—she began to despair of ever getting away from Robert and his brute of a brother. Though they left her alone for the most part, they kept Gemini's reins tied to one of their saddles to avoid a repeated attempt of the animal's escape, and both watched her like beady-eyed hawks with a mouse in their sights. Even trips to the bushes were monitored with humiliating attention.

With nothing to occupy her time as she rode between the men and waited for one of Deuce's famous opportunities to present itself, her thoughts strayed more and more often to Jesse. Part of her, the part that found such pleasure in his smile and excitement at his touch, longed
for him with an intensity that bordered on a physical ache. The other part of her, the part that felt used and battered and betrayed by his duplicity, hoped he'd take a running jump off a high cliff.

How could she have been so stupid, not once, but twice? As hard as she tried not to let it affect her, his mysterious interest in her father weighed on her mind like a black cloud. She'd sensed from the beginning that his arrival in Last Hope hadn't been as innocent as he'd wanted her and Rose to believe, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he might have been after her father.

And therein lay the big mystery—why? Did Jesse believe in the fabled fortune, too? If Deuce had told Robert of the stashed million, what would have stopped him from telling others? Not a gosh-darn thing. So it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that Jesse might have caught wind of the tale, and like Robert, believed that she was the key to finding the money.

On the other hand, she supposed that Jesse really could have been stranded in Last Hope, had no idea she was Deuce's daughter, and had truly stayed at the Scarlet Rose to help a woman in need. His interest in her father could involve something completely unrelated to her. Deuce had been swindling people for years, after all,
so it was possible that Jesse, for all his apparent astuteness, had been duped by him, too. Hadn't she managed to convince him that they'd shared a night of passionate love-making?

Oh, she could drive herself daft trying to find answers to the questions, and it wouldn't change anything. Jesse had still been dishonest with her, she was still the captive of a pair of greedy fortune seekers, and until she figured out a way to elude them, she'd never learn the truth about anything.

Including how she could possibly pine for a man she'd known only a few days, and whom she couldn't trust as far as she could throw him.

With a sigh, she directed her attention to the narrow path ahead. They'd long since left behind the tiny valley that nestled Last Hope, and were now descending a mild, evergreen-studded slope between snow-capped peaks. Robert's constant vigilance wouldn't allow her to give any creeks they crossed more than a cursory exploration, nor did she dare sneak off on her own. Robert had already promised to strip her of freedom completely if she tried anything stupid. At least her hands weren't bound, and a little freedom at this point was better than no freedom. She'd get her break; she simply had to wait for it.