Lone Star 04 (3 page)

Why?
Jessie wondered. They'd come from the Old World to get a new start. What was scaring them off? Instinct, and a few lessons learned the hard way, told her the cartel had its hand in the deal somewhere.

Finally, Jessie drifted off to sleep, but her waking thoughts followed her into dark and fitful dreams ...

 

 

When Jessie Starbuck entered the diner for breakfast, she earned the admiring glances of every male in the car—and chilly looks from their wives. For the sake of comfort, she'd cast aside her more tailored traveling wear in favor of faded, sky-blue denims and a matching jacket. The wide brown leather belt emphasized the natural slimness of her waist. The denims were scandalously tight, and when Jessie moved down the aisle to the click of her boots, the motion caused lovely things to happen to her firm bottom.

She was aware of the whispers in her wake, and ignored them. Trailing a wealth of riotous, strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulders, she made her way to the table Ki was holding. The strain of the day before and a nearly sleepless night should have left her drawn and depressed. Instead, her stubborn Starbuck heritage had come to the fore, and she'd traded the mood for a saucy and impish air. She would
not
give in to her troubles, and by God, anything that got in her way would wish it hadn‘t!

“Morning,” she greeted Ki cheerily. “Slept well, I hope?”

“As well as you, I'm sure,” he said, raising his brow a bare quarter-inch.

Jessie got the message and stuck out her tongue. “All right, so I didn't. And you didn‘t, either.” She gave a light shrug and glanced out the window.
“Beautiful
day, Ki. Just marvelous!”

“Yes, it is quite pleasant,” he agreed. Her cheery mood pleased him, and he held back a smile. Samurai discipline was certainly not Jessie's way, but sometimes she showed a remarkable ability to be what she wanted to be—in spite of what was going on around her. “I've ordered eggs, ham, and muffins,” he said solemnly. “Will that be sufficent?”

“Don't be cute,” warned Jessie. “Not till I've downed some of that good railroad coffee.”

Ki hailed a waiter, who immediately filled their cups. Jessie made a pleasant sound in her throat and went after the scalding liquid.

“Oooooh, my dear! My goodness
gracious!”

Jessie paused and stared, the cup halfway to her lips. The chubby little lady waddled down the aisle toward the table, swinging her purse in delight.

“Child, if you are not the
image
of my daughter, Lou Ann? Lord, I
never!
Is this seat taken, honey?”

“Uh—”

“Oh, good!” She slapped a hand to her ample breasts and sank down across from Jessie. “Just hate to eat alone. You know?” She blinked through spectacles that made her eyes look as big as small moons. “Don't tell me now. No, wait, let me get it m‘self.” She tapped a finger on her teeth. “You ain't a Wheeler, are you? No, the Wheelers don't run to pretty hair, and you sure got that.” Suddenly her eyes lit up and she stabbed the air with her hand. “A
Morrison.
Now that's it, tell me I'm wrong, child.”

“I'm terribly sorry.” Jessie grinned and shook her head. “I don't think I'm either one. Guess I'm mostly a Starbuck.”

The woman's face fell. “Oh, dear, you just
got
to be kin somewhere. Lord, if you an' Lou Ann was sittin' side by side, it'd be like tryin' to tell one pea from another. ‘Course, she's a little stouter.” She cackled and shook at the thought. “A
little
stouter, I say. That and then some! All us Wheeler girls take to fat. Runs in the family.” She leaned toward Jessie and frowned. “You suppose they got tea on this train, 'stead of coffee, dear? You get real
nice
tea on the Union Pacific. Don't know why the other lines don't do it. Now, when I come into Denver last May—no, I'm tellin' a lie. Was it May, or last part of April? Had to be May, ‘cause Lottie was expectin' her first and that'd be May. Lord, I said to Lou Ann—”

Jessie rolled her eyes and cast a furtive glance at Ki. Ki, though, pretended great interest in the steaming hot muffins and crisp fresh ham arriving at the table.
Coward,
Jessie thought ruefully.
Some samurai you are!

Jessie couldn't fault the old lady—she was doing what old ladies did. It just wasn't the right morning to hear about overweight daughters named Lottie and Lou Ann. Jessie picked at her food, nodding now and then at her uninvited guest. At least, she thought drearily, no answers were required—just a nod in the right places.

Glancing up, she saw her acquaintance of the day before move past to the front of the diner. Torgler was sporting a handsomely cut black suit, a plum-covered vest, and a soft ivory shirt. The black pearl pin in his blue ascot was just the right size—neither too small nor overly pretentious. The man ignored Ki, nodded politely at Jessie, and vanished behind her.

Jessie ground her teeth and muttered under her breath. Torgler made a real show of being a gentleman, but she hadn't missed the way his eyes brushed over her breasts. There was nothing wrong with a man's admiration. Jessie welcomed it, and more than once gave back as good as she got. Torgler, though, was a sneak—not man enough to hang an honest smile on to his look.

“—Lou Ann's first young‘un. Lord, no, you'd think Jimmy come from a
whole
different family. He wasn't no more like—why, what's wrong, girl?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Jessie said lightly. She pushed back her chair and stood. “Be right back. Just catching a quick breath of air.” She shot a look at Ki and darted down the aisle before the old lady could get her engine going again.

The woman looked at Ki, a little frown creasing her brow. “That girl is
not
well,” she said darkly. “Not well
at
all. I got two of my own, and Lord, don't I know the signs!”

“I'm certain she is all right,” Ki assured her. “Truly.”

“Huh!” She sniffed at Ki and lifted her great bottom off the chair. “What's a
man
goin' to know ‘bout sufferin'? Think I can't see sick when it's starin' me in the face? Poor dear child!”

Ki watched her wander off after Jessie. She looked for all the world like a feather mattress loosely bound in baling wire—with a tuft of gray down spouting out the top. Poor Jessie, indeed! Ki suppressed a grin and went back to his breakfast.

 

 

Jessie stood between the two coaches and took a deep breath of cool morning air. Good God, the woman could talk the ears off a mule! One more word about Lottie and the kids and—the door opened behind her and Jessie turned abruptly.

“Oh,
there
you are, my dear!”

“What?” Jessie blinked and bit her lip. “Listen, it‘s—nice of you to worry, but I'm really all right. Honest.”

“I'm so glad to hear that, Miss Starbuck.” The pleasant smile faded. “Now get back away from that door—fast!”

“What? Hey, now—”

“Move
it, sister!” A hand slipped into the folds of her shawl and came out with a large Smith & Wesson. Jessie stared and backed off. The thick spectacles were suddenly gone, and so was the crackly old voice. The former grand-mother leveled the revolver and thumbed back the hammer. “Miss Starbuck, you got a choice,” she said evenly. “Jump off this train with your heart still pumping, or go off dead. Decide right now. Don't make a hell of a lot of difference to me, one way or the other.”

Jessie looked into the cold, slate-gray eyes and knew she meant it. “Mind telling me what this is all about? If it's a robbery, you—”

“Damn it,” the woman blurted, “I got no time to
talk!”
Jessica saw cords tighten in the lady's wrist, and knew the action came from a finger squeezing back on a trigger. God, the woman didn't intend to wait for an answer, she meant to kill her then and there!

“All
right,”
blurted Jessie, “I'll jump, damn it, if that's what you—” Jessie took one step toward the door, twisted at the waist, and kicked out hard with the toe of her right boot. The motion brought her body around at an angle, left shoulder slanting at the floor, left hand sweeping up fast under the woman's wrist. Foot and hand found their targets at once. The woman shrieked and came off her feet. A white blossom of fire exploded near Jessie's ear and singed her hair as the Smith & Wesson punched a neat hole in the roof. Jessie hung on and followed her assailant to the floor. The woman lashed out with her feet and bruised Jessie's ribs with her free hand. Jessie gritted her teeth and took it, fighting to keep the pistol out of her face. The woman was strong, and nowhere close to finished. Jessie tried to remember everything Ki had tried to teach her. She buried her head in the woman's shoulders and let the tight fists pound away and tear at her clothes. Nothing counted now except keeping that revolver aimed in some other direction. Again and again she slammed the thing hard against the steel floor. The woman cursed, came up off the floor, and bit Jessie's ear.

Jessie bellowed, jerked over fast, and shoved the woman's head into the wall. The gun fell free. The woman broke loose and went after it on all fours. Jessie leaped, determined to get there first.

Suddenly something swept past her, scooped the woman easily off the floor, and wrapped strong arms about her waist. Jessie shook her head and came to her feet. The woman screamed and cursed like a sailor, churning her legs in the air.

“We have a very active old lady here,” Ki grinned. “Very strong for her age.”

Jessie pulled her torn silk blouse together as well as she could and scooted around to Ki's side, carefully avoiding the kicking legs. “A little too active, if you ask me. And not all that old, either.” Jessie reached up and yanked off the iron-gray wig. A full head of shiny auburn hair sprang free and tumbled over the woman's shoulders.

“Damn you, leave me alone!” she screamed, twisting under Ki's steel grip.

“Granny, you've got real pretty hair under there,” said Jessie. “And I'll bet there's a face somewhere to go with it.” Using an edge of the woman's shawl, she scrubbed the weathered features with a vengeance. Years fell away like magic, along with overgrown brows and well-applied wrinkles. Jessie stepped back and took a look.

The girl glared. “You satisfied?”

“I guess so. Ki, she isn't a day older than I am. And I'll bet there's a lot more cotton than fat under that gown. Have you ever seen her before?”

“Ah, yes—I am afraid so,” Ki said dryly. “I saw her yesterday. She was sitting across the aisle from the men who attacked me.”

Jessie sighed and shook her head. “Miss, if you're half as smart as I think you are, you know you're in an awful lot of trouble. You want to be helpful or try the other way?”

“Go to hell, lady!” the girl snarled.

Jessie exchanged a quick glance with Ki. “If you know who I am, you likely know my friend here, too. He can touch a certain point on your neck and everything'll kind of go black for a while. Of course, if he doesn't do it just right . . .”

“Hey, now, look—” For a moment, the girl went pale.

“You want to tell me anything?”

“I . . . got nothing to say. Whatever you do to me!” Her eyes were still bold and determined, but her voice lacked some of the bravado of a moment before. Jessie had no intention of asking Ki to use his arts on the girl, and Ki well knew it. The girl, however, wasn't all that sure.

“Why don't we start off with something easy?” Jessie suggested. “What's your name?”

“It's... Lucy Jordan,” the girl said quickly.

Likely something she made up on the spot, thought Jessie. “Fine, Lucy. Now I know this wasn't your idea. Who put you up to it?”

Lucy laughed in her face. “A man named Smith, lady. It always is—‘less it's Jones sometimes!”

“Is he on this train?” Ki put in. “Can you point the man out?”

“Sure.” Lucy shrugged and gave him a wink over her shoulder. “If he's wearin' a big brown envelope with some fat bills in it, I'll know him right off. That's all I ever seen of him.”

“She's probably telling the truth,” sighed Jessie. “She's good, and the cartel hires only the best. I expect it happened the way she said. Somebody knows somebody who knows how to contact the right person, and nobody can trace the business back to the beginning.” She looked straight at Lucy Jordan. “Is that how it works, friend?”

Lucy shrugged, doing her best to show a lack of interest. “Listen, Miss Starbuck. Don't take it personal-like, all right? Hell, it's just a job. I got nothing against you.”

Jessie met the girl's eyes and felt a chill touch the back of her neck. She was young, and almost a striking beauty. She was also a professional assassin, and most likely meant just what she said. Jessica Starbuck or anyone else was a job and nothing more—a person who should have been cold meat right now, instead of standing up, talking to her killer.

“Thanks,” she told the girl calmly. “Knowing that sure makes me feel a whole lot better.”