An Unlikely Lady (25 page)

Jesse had never given much thought to what turned innocent girls into soiled doves, but over the next couple of hours, he found himself dwelling on Honesty's comment. Sure, women went into the profession for all the reasons Rose had once told him: abandonment, desperation, greed.

But Honesty . . . He wondered if, in her quest to belong to someone, she would belong to everyone or anyone.

Including him.

And he found himself thinking about her family, what kind of upbringing she had. Dangerous thoughts for a man who wanted nothing more than to escort her safely into her brother's keeping so he could be rid of her.

She'd obviously been fond of her father; the ring she wore around her neck testified to that. And she obviously had a large measure of loyalty, or she wouldn't be risking neck and limb traveling across badlands to find a vagabond brother.

She had no fear of people, no qualms over taking off on her own and going afer something she wanted, and she was very good at hiding her thoughts. Hell, she'd make a damned good detective if she weren't so blasted annoying.

Would marriage to a woman of those qualities be all that much of a hardship?

But he could never have a relationship with a
woman he couldn't trust. If she would be truthful with him, he might understand. But he'd given her plenty of chances to come clean, and time after time, she'd come up with some cockamamie story, or avoided the subject altogether. And he'd been burned too badly to be truthful with her.

He should have left her at the Triple Ace; Ace and Annie would have watched out for her. Except he'd given his word to find her another escort if they didn't find her brother by the time they hit the Texas border and he'd do just that.

“This is Tascosa?” Honesty asked a couple hours later as they approached the town where Jesse had once posed as a deputy.

“What there is of it,” he replied.

“I don't like this place, Jesse. It gives me a bad feeling, like spiders crawling up the back of my neck.”

He studied her curiously, then scanned the town. Nothing out of the ordinary: Mickey McCormick's Livery, Jenkins' and Dunn's Saloon, the Wright and Farnsworth General Store, and the old courthouse, now Cal Farley's Boys' Ranch. Most of the buildings were made of brick, some of lumber, and a few even had pretty shade trees in front of them. It was just a town.

Yet, Honesty's face had gone pasty white.

“All right then, let's go.” He pressed the
reins against the horse's neck to turn him around. “If we travel fast, we can be in Sage Flat by tomorrow.”

“But I thought you wanted to find me another escort.”

“And I thought you wanted to see wild horses?”

As his meaning dawned, her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” He didn't dare examine why he'd suddenly turned against the idea of unloading his troublesome baggage. Except the thought of someone else spending their days and nights with Honesty set his teeth on edge. He found himself wanting to show her all the places he'd been, the things he'd seen and had taken for granted or just plain hadn't appreciated.

“Be careful, Jesse. I might start thinking there's a heart inside that glorious chest of yours.” She kicked the little mare into a canter.

Jesse plucked his shirt away from his skin and peered down his shirt. She thought his chest gorgeous? He grinned. Damn minx.

He didn't know what in the Sam Hill had gotten into Honesty, but he liked it. Not once since leaving the mission had he been forced to track her down, bail her out of trouble, or rescue her from the clutches of any thugs. In fact, she'd been strangely cooperative and astonishingly obedient.

Maybe something he'd said had finally stuck.

They hit Sage Flat well after noon the next day, too early for the rowdy crowd, too late for the marketers. Jesse guided his gelding directly to the town's only hotel, which was directly across the street from the Two-Bit Saloon, but there wasn't much he could do to change that.

“Why are we stopping here?” Honesty asked as he helped her dismount. “I thought we were going to see the horses.”

“We are.” He wrapped his fingers around her elbow and ushered her into the lobby. “First thing in the morning.”

She came to a skidding halt. “What?”

“I've got some business to tend to. We'll stay the night here, then head over to the canyon first thing in the morning.”

“But I want to see the horses now!”

“I know, and so does everyone else in town now, too.”

Suddenly aware that her outburst had drawn the attention of several guests, she lowered her voice. “What kind of business is so important that it can't wait one day?”

Jesse scribbled a false name into the register book, received the room key, then escorted Honesty up the stairs. “Well, seeing if your brother has been here, for starters. And I need to find out if the judge is in town; if he isn't, I want to know how long it will be before he
passes through again.” He also needed to send a wire to McParland, letting him know where he could be reached; he hoped there would be some news on George Mallory by now, too. “I shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours.” He slipped the key in the door and turned the lock. “While I'm gone, I do not want you leaving this room. No more stunts like the one in La Veta, understand?”

She folded her arms over her breasts and pursed her lips.

Jesse sighed. He was beginning to understand that mutinous expression well enough to know that it didn't bode well. Two casual steps brought him close enough to feel the anger and the hurt emanating from her skin. “Honesty?”

She refused to look at him.

His lips quirked. He tipped his head to one side, then the other, trying to catch her eye.

She turned partly away from him.

“Now, darlin' . . .” He caught her chin with his finger and gently forced her to turn back in his direction. “You know I wouldn't be leaving you if it wasn't important, don't you?” he asked in his silkiest tone.

She peered at him from beneath her lashes. He could see her weakening. There really was something to be said for catching more flies with honey.

Pressing his advantage, Jesse moved in closer; his breaths mingled with hers, and his gaze fixed on her lips. In his mind's eyes, he saw himself leaning in, inch by inch. By inch. “I won't be long; I give you my word.” He slid his finger along her jaw. “Will you wait for me?”

Those long, thick lashes of hers crept up. Her eyes locked with his. He saw his own reflection in her dilated pupils, and his breath damned up in his lungs at the desire in them.

An eternity seemed to pass before she finally nodded.

Jesse smiled inwardly. Women weren't the only ones who could use sensuality as a weapon of persuasion. It had just been so long since he'd used his own, he'd all but forgotten its power. “I promise, as soon as my business is finished, I'll come back and . . . keep you company.” He gave her a slow wink and an even slower grin.

Her mouth fell open.

Then before he gave in to the temptation to test her responses further, he took a step backward. “In the meantime, try and relax, okay? I'll have a—”

“I know, you'll have a bath sent up.” She sighed, and it sounded so defeated that he might have changed his mind if there wasn't so much at stake. He rocked his Stetson on his
head, checked the load in his Colt, then headed for the door.

“Remember what I said, Honesty; do not leave this room. Believe me, this is one town you wouldn't want to be caught in alone.”

The minute the door closed behind Jesse, Honesty's smile vanished. Scoundrel. If he thought he could seduce her into waiting meekly in the room while he jaunted about town, he was sadly mistaken. The man was up to no good, and the longer she stayed in his company, the greater the danger that he would discover her true identity. His errands would take him an hour, two at most, before he returned. If she hurried, she should have just enough time to slip over to the canyon, do a bit of exploring, then slip back.

Taking a page out of Annie's book, she borrowed a pair of Jesse's trousers. They were a bit too snug around the waist and hips, and she hated the way the coarse fabric felt against her skin, but at least it would afford her some protection. And there was a lot more freedom to split-legged garments than skirts, which had a tendency to get tangled in everything in her path.

Once she deemed the hall was clear, she closed and locked the door behind her,
pocketed the key, then strode down the corridor to a door that, as she predicted, opened to an outside stairwell.

For just a moment she stood on the threshold, her hand around the knob, her heart stammering in her chest. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe Jesse was right, and she should go back to her room and stay there and . . .

And what? Let him think that every time he snapped his fingers, she would blithely follow?

No. Something was wrong. She couldn't explain it, she couldn't define it, but she could feel it. There'd been a knot in the back of her throat the size of a melon for the last two days, the skin on the back of her neck burned, and she had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that if she didn't find whatever it was her father wanted her to find soon, she'd wouldn't find it at all.

The canyon was easy to locate, but the slide-rock that Annie told her about wasn't so easy to find. Hands on her hips, she scanned the visible length of the Palo Duro. She didn't know what she'd expected, but an eleven-mile chasm of striated rock as wide as it was deep had not been it. There was no way she'd be able to explore the entire eleven-mile-long canyon in one hour.

She could, however, make a dent in it.

Lips pressed together, she fetched the rope
from the little mare's saddle and set about finding a place to descend where she wouldn't break her fool neck. Just as she spotted a decent decline and lowered one foot over the edge, a wailing sound from across the prairie stopped her in her tracks. Honesty swung around.

Her heart froze at the sight of the figure riding on horseback along the canyon's rim, toward her.

Roscoe Treat!

She'd have recognized him anywhere, even without the buffalo-hide coat.

She dropped to the ground and crawled backward. He was still too far away to see her. Or even if he could see her, surely he wouldn't recognize her. She'd just wait here until he passed.

How had he found her? And where was Robert?

She buried her face into the ground and slid backward a bit more, trying to make herself as small and flat as possible without slipping down the cliff as the wailing grew closer. Honesty realized he was singing, or trying to. The obnoxious volume and slurred notes left her with no doubt that he'd had quite a bit to drink. That could play to her advantage.

Or not.

The instant Jesse stepped from the telegraph office, a sense of foreboding prickled across his
skin. Years of ingrained reaction kicked in, pushing him to the shadows. He reached for his Colt and snapped the safety strap free, even as he scanned the street for whatever had his senses going on instant alert.

He went to the room first. “Honesty? Honesty, we're in luck. I ran into an old friend who agreed to take—” The words fell on an empty room. Her bag was still on the bed, her money jar hidden inside, but no Honesty.

A red haze of fury clouded his eyes.

The little sneak had stolen off again.

O
ne hour passed.

Then two.

And still Roscoe roamed the prairie, singing himself hoarse. Honesty had managed to creep down to the floor of the canyon and climb back up a wall further north. She suffered one close call when he staggered to the rim, unbuttoned his pants, and peed barely two feet away from her. Nose curling, she inched sideways a couple of yards and tried to figure out how to get back to Sage Flat without him detecting her. Jesse would surely have returned by now and discovered her missing. He was probably tearing the town apart looking for her.

Or maybe he wasn't.

Maybe, like Roscoe, he was availing himself
of the local liquor stock and didn't even know she was gone.

She could hope, anyway.

If he found out that she'd disappeared on him again . . . She didn't want to contemplate what he would do, but she had no doubt he'd take more severe measures than tying her to his wrist.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't heard Roscoe in a few minutes. Honesty peeked over the rim one more time. Hope flared when she saw him sitting less than ten yards away in the high grasses, his shoulders slumped. “Please be sleeping, please be sleeping . . .”

Keeping her eyes on him, she hoisted herself onto flat ground and crawled on her stomach behind him, using her elbows and knees for leverage. She briefly considered making a run for it, but if Roscoe caught sight of her, she was done for.

And so, calling on every ounce of patience she could summon, she chose the safer route of caution and crawled toward her horse. It seemed to take forever to pass him; he stirred several times, his head bobbing drunkenly, but he gave no sign of noticing her. At last, with nothing but open ground between herself and the mare, Honesty rose to a crouch and closed the distance. Then she climbed into the saddle and rode like the wind.

She arrived back in Sage Flat in a cloud of dust just as the moon edged its way above the horizon. Quickly she brushed down the mare, then sprinted up the outside staircase. The key made a loud click in the door and Honesty winced. Peering through the crack, she breathed a sigh of relief at finding the room empty.

She slipped inside, shut the door, and turned the key.

“Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, noticing the clothes she wore. Jesse's trousers now had shredded holes in each knee, and dirt ground into the fibers, and one of the rolled leg cuffs had been torn half off. His gray cambric shirt was also beyond repair. She had to destroy the clothes before he saw them and guessed correctly that she'd once again been prowling about. She'd figure out something to tell him tomorrow when he discovered them missing.