Lady Outlaw (17 page)

Time and sound seemed to slow. Caleb peered into her face and then at her parted lips. What would it be like to kiss her, not in a moment of fear or as her hired hand, but because they both cared for the other? The thought made his heart pound as hard and fast as their feet because he knew he
did
care for her. He’d never expected to want to love again after losing Liza, but then nearly everything about Jennie took him by surprise. There was nothing he could have done to prepare himself for her or the way she made him feel. Her beauty, her loyalty, her stubborn pride and fierce determination, her wonderful family, even her annoying cows had somehow won him over. But was he truly prepared to give love another try?

Without warning, his boot caught the corner of his chair as they rounded the table again and Caleb stumbled forward. He nearly dropped Jennie, but she managed to fall against the table with a laugh.

“Guess I’m still better at shooting.” He rubbed the back of his warm neck. “Thank you for the dance, ladies. I think I’ll step outside for a bit.”

He hurried to the door. Behind him he heard light footsteps start to follow, but they stopped when Grandma Jones whispered, “Let him go.”

Caleb welcomed the baptism of cold night air on his face as he walked outside and to the corral. The notes of another song could be heard from the direction of the kitchen. Placing one foot on the bottom rung of the fence, he rested his arms against the top and stared at the milling cattle.

Unbidden, Liza’s face, framed in dark hair, appeared in his mind. She and Jennie were as different in personality as they were in coloring.

Liza had always been drawn to people and get-togethers, while Jennie had struck Caleb as quiet and reserved, at least until he’d gotten to know her. Now he knew she could be as witty and teasing as him. And that rock-hard strength—that was what he respected the most. When she put her mind to something, she wouldn’t give up.

Had she given up on the idea of them together? Part of him hoped not, but the other part cringed at the thought of caring for someone so deeply again. It had been three years. Could he open his heart to the possibility of pain and loss and love a second time?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wanted notice he’d fished from his saddlebag the other day. It was too dark now to see the face or type, but he’d memorized every detail anyway. He stared unseeing at the paper, feeling as though he held the last surviving shadow of his past. The notice represented all the grief and hate and vengeance that had driven him to be a bounty hunter. He’d made his peace with God about his actions, and yet, he’d kept this final reminder of all he’d lost—a love, a marriage, a family.

Shutting his eyes for a moment, Caleb opened them and blew out a long breath. Something deep inside him whispered it was time. He ripped the notice in half and then half again. When all that remained were tiny scraps of paper, he left the corral and walked north, past the house and barn. In the dark, he lifted his hand and let the pieces go. The wind whipped them into the air and scattered them like bits of snow over the sagebrush. The remnants of his past were gone.

Caleb headed back to the house, one of Will’s songs rising to his lips. He whistled as he strode through the yard and up the porch. Music still came from inside, which meant maybe he could get another dance with Jennie.

* * *

After the stage rolled to a stop in Fillmore, much later than Jennie had anticipated, she rushed down the steps and in the direction of the saloon. According to Nathan’s information, that was where the bandits would be lying low until midnight. She pulled her short jacket tighter around her body to keep out the chill of the evening air. The drop in temperature and the dark clouds smearing the sky signaled a good storm and made it seem much later than suppertime.

With her fingers gripped tightly around her purse, her pistol inside, she pushed through the saloon doors. Her entrance went largely unnoticed in the crowded room except for the men at the closest tables who grinned lewdly at her over their mugs of beer.

Ignoring them, Jennie headed toward the bar, scanning the room in both directions as she walked. Nathan had told her to search for a tall, redheaded fellow and a dark one with a scar on his cheek. No one in the mass of cowboys and businessmen matched his descriptions, but Jennie hadn’t expected to find them down here. Men who’d robbed six hundred from a stagecoach yesterday wouldn’t be openly mingling with the saloon crowd.

“Excuse me,” she said to the man behind the counter.

He glanced up from the shot glass he’d been cleaning with a rag. A look of surprise settled on his face. “Do you need something, miss?”

Jennie nodded. “I believe some friends of mine are staying with you tonight.” She gave the bartender the false names Nathan had provided. “Could you tell me which room they’re in?”

The man lifted a bushy eyebrow, still clearly puzzled by her presence. “Up the stairs, third door.” He waved a thumb at the nearby staircase.

“Thank you.” Jennie made her way across the room. Instead of ascending the stairs, though, she walked toward a group of saloon girls milling about a large table where a poker game was in full swing. She stopped a few feet away to observe them, scrutinizing the faces and behavior of each girl. She needed the cleverest and the prettiest to help her.

Once she decided, she strode forward and tapped the bare shoulder of a shapely blonde. The girl spun around, the smile on her face freezing into place at the sight of Jennie.

“What do ya want?” Her painted face scrunched in annoyance.

“I need your help with a couple of men upstairs.” Jennie pulled four five-dollar bills from her purse and showed the girl. “I’m willing to pay you and your friend there—” she pointed to a dark-eyed young lady loitering nearby “—twenty dollars to split between you.”

“Ten dollars apiece?” the girl exclaimed.

“Shh.” Jennie glanced around the room, relieved no one appeared to be listening to them.

“For ten dollars, I’d kiss the Pope.”

Jennie chuckled. “Not necessary. I only need you and your friend to get these two men to leave their room and come downstairs with you without any luggage. Then I need them detained for at least half an hour. Can you do that?”

“Consider it done, sweetheart.” The girl waved a hand at her friend. “Nellie. Come here.” The other girl frowned and wandered over.

“We got ourselves a more profitable job,” the blonde whispered to her, “that beats waitin’ around for these cowboys to finish up.”

Jennie led the girls to the stairs where she repeated her instructions, emphasizing the part about no luggage coming downstairs.

“Here’s your money.” She handed each girl two bills, which they tucked into their boots. She knew it might be foolish to give them all of the money up-front, but she was already behind schedule. “Whatever you do, don’t tell them about me.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us.” The blonde one sniffed, her hands on her hips. “We’ll have ’em down here in five minutes or you can have your money back.”

Jennie smiled at her confidence. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime,” the dark-eyed girl said over her shoulder as they sauntered up the stairs.

Jennie watched them until they reached the upstairs hall, then she slipped into the shadows beside the staircase. She’d carefully constructed her plan during the tedious stage ride, and yet, she couldn’t help but worry. Everything hinged on the girls’ ability to get the bandits downstairs—without their money—and hold them long enough for Jennie to do her job.

With nothing to do except wait, she gnawed on her thumbnail, her stomach churning with nerves. The nervous action reminded her of all the times Caleb had noticed it and she lowered her hand to her side. She didn’t want to think about Caleb now, not in the middle of a saloon about to take money from thugs.

To clear her mind, she reached into her purse for her pistol.
She checked her gun again, even though she’d loaded it before leaving home.

The sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs made her press against the wall. Holding her breath, Jennie trained her gaze on the last few steps. High-pitched giggles and the murmur of male voices moved closer.

At last, she saw them. The tall redhead had his arm draped around the shoulders of the dark-eyed girl and the bearded man with the scar clasped the waist of the blonde.

“Why don’t we buy you ladies a drink?” the taller one said.

As the group walked to the bar, Jennie slipped out of the shadows. She put her gun back into the purse dangling from her wrist. She forced her feet to take slow, measured steps up the stairs, so as not to draw attention. When she reached the upstairs hall, she allowed herself a long, full breath at having made it this far.

She counted the doors as she walked, stopping in front of the third one. She turned the knob and found it locked. Expecting as much, she knelt on the worn carpet and removed a hairpin from inside her hat. Like she’d learned, she stuck the makeshift key into the lock and jiggled it until she heard a soft click. She turned the handle and the door opened.

Smiling at the relative ease of it all, Jennie rose to her feet and walked into the room. The sound of snoring brought her footsteps to a halt and made her heart leap painfully in panic. Nathan had told her there would only be two robbers. Did she have the wrong room?

She leaned out the doorway and counted the doors off the main hallway. She had the right room.
But who’s inside?
She hesitated, unsure whether to proceed or leave, until the memory of Mr. Dixon’s notice with the ugly word
foreclosure
on top entered her mind.
I’m not giving up yet.

Squaring her shoulders, Jennie crept back through the open door. She shut it softly behind her. The room was modestly furnished with a dresser, a wash basin, a table and chairs and a bed.

A large man lay facedown across the bed, his massive back rising with deep snores, his hand still gripping a bottle. Two more bottles and several dirty glasses sat on the table. The stench of alcohol hung in the stale air.

Jennie made a slow canvas around the room, searching for the bag of money and keeping her steps mere whispers against the floor. The man on the bed continued his drunken slumber. She found two saddlebags dumped into one corner, but neither of them held the cash.

Frowning, she set the bags back into place and surveyed her surroundings once more. Nothing appeared odd or out of place except a lumpy blanket wadded up beside the man’s feet. She tiptoed forward and knelt at the foot of the bed. Lifting a corner of the blanket, she pushed her hand under the fabric. Her fingers touched something smooth and hard—a bag.

Squelching the urge to laugh, Jennie inched the bag toward her. A muffled groan made her freeze, her hand caught beneath the blanket. The bed shook as the man shifted his weight. Once more the room filled with the sound of heavy breathing.

Jennie waited another half minute before resuming her task. At last the bag bumped softly against the footboard. In one quick movement, she lifted the edge of the blanket and pulled the bag onto the floor. She untwisted the metal clasp and peered inside. Neat stacks of cash brought a smile to her face.

Jennie stowed her purse and gun inside the bag before taking it with her to the door. She needed to hurry; it had taken her more time than she’d intended to find the money.

With a last look at the sleeping bandit, she walked out the door and closed it. She headed down the hall, hoping to slip out the saloon’s main doors unnoticed, but a short man blocked the way to the stairs. She stopped, and their eyes met.

“I know you.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re one of the cowboys who stole my cattle for Mr. King. You were in Beaver the other week. Have you been following me?”

She knew the answer even before his face blanched.

“Why are you here?” She took a defensive step forward, the money and the bandits momentarily forgotten in the wake of her anger.

Frowning, the cowhand hurried down the stairs, plowing into the tall redhead and the scarred dark-haired man coming up. Too late, Jennie realized her time had run out. She spun around, away from the bandits, searching for some way to escape.

“Whataya got there, missy?” one of them asked.

Jennie ignored him and sprinted toward the closest room. She prayed it wasn’t locked. She grabbed the knob and pushed against the door, throwing a glance at the men coming after her.

“Hey, that’s our money,” the man with the scar on his face said.

“It’s the little imp who’s been stealing everybody’s dough,” the tall one replied as Jennie bolted into the room and slammed the door behind her.

Twisting the lock into place, Jennie frantically searched the empty apartment for a way to escape. There was only one choice.

She crossed to the window, listening to the sound of the men’s boots smacking the floor outside the door. Soon they were pounding their fists against the wood. Shouted profanities and threats seeped into the room from the hallway.

Visibly shaking, Jennie pushed up the window and stuck out her head. Crates of empty bottles and several old barrels were scattered along the outer wall, about ten feet below. She could probably jump and survive.