My Heart's Desire (42 page)

Jarret just managed to swallow his stew without choking. He saw Dancer's skeptical gaze and nodded, confirming Rennie's statement. "I can't sleep with one eye open," he said. "And neither can you. She'd kill us both."

"Seems that way," said Dancer.

When they finished eating Jarret cleaned the plates and utensils at the stream. He returned to find the furniture had been slightly rearranged. The table had been moved close to the bed, and Rennie was sitting up, shuffling cards from a well-worn deck. Dancer occupied one of the chairs set at a right angle to her.

Rennie looked up at Jarret as he entered, her bewildered gaze for him alone, and said, "He wanted to play."

Jarret couldn't fathom it either, but he didn't want to offend Dancer by not joining. The prospector had already gone to the trouble of boiling more water and making fresh tea. He was sitting at the table expectantly, greedily snatching up the cards that Rennie dealt.

Taking up the vacant chair, Jarret picked up his cards. "What are we playing?"

The game was five card draw, and the ante was nuggets of fool's gold that Dancer had collected from his claim. They only played a half-dozen hands before Rennie began to yawn. She was losing anyway, so she divided the last of her nuggets between Dancer and Jarret and lay back on the bed.

Jarret stopped shuffling and put down the cards. "Let me escort her to the privy now," he told Dancer, "or she'll be wanting to go later."

"Certainly," said Dancer. "I'll make some more tea."

Helping Rennie to her feet, Jarret supported her with his strong arm and led her outside. Once they were out of earshot of the house, he said, "It's the tea, Rennie. That's why you're so tired. Dancer's drugging us."

She yawned hugely, too sleepy to be surprised or worried. "I don't think I can fight it, Jarret."

"You don't have to. I'm not drinking any more. I'll keep you safe."

"I know you will."

Her absolute conviction that he was as good as his word made Jarret want to kiss her right there. He quelled the urge until they were just outside the door of the cabin again. Her lips tasted warmly of the tea. "Wipe that smile off your face," he whispered.

The night was inky. "You can't even see that I'm smiling."

"It doesn't matter. I know what you look like when I kiss you."

She gave him a light tap in the middle of his chest with her fist. "Braggart."

It was Jarret who had to tamp down his smile as they stepped back inside.

After tying Rennie's hands loosely to the bed, Jarret played another six hands with Dancer. The prospector won all his nuggets in the end, and Jarret was able to give the appearance of having lost to a better player. Jarret was also able to surreptitiously dump most of his tea between the cracks in the floorboards. It trickled into the dirt cellar with Dancer being none the wiser. When Jarret tiredly indicated he was ready to stop playing, Dancer obliged by helping him make up his bed on the floor. Once Jarret was settled the prospector turned back the lamps and climbed to the loft.

It seemed forever before Dancer Tubbs climbed down again. Jarret could hear more easily than he could see, and what he heard surprised him. The prospector put on his coat and gloves, took the pot of leftover stew from the hearth, picked up a plate and utensils, and carried it all outside. Jarret waited only long enough to assure himself Dancer was not immediately returning. He untied Rennie, grabbed his gun belt and coat, and then stepped outside in time to hear Dancer leaving on horseback.

Jarret followed on foot, certain now that Dancer was going to his claim and fairly confident the mine wasn't far from the cabin. As Jarret's eyes became adjusted to the darkness he was able to quicken his pace. The trail climbed by small increments, but the terrain was smooth. Jarret was able to keep the distance between them from widening, and Dancer led him right to the claim.

Pale yellow lantern light illuminated the mouth of the mine. Jarret stayed back, hidden in the rocks and shadows while Dancer dismounted. There was already a mule tethered to a post near the entrance, and Dancer hitched his horse alongside. As Jarret watched, the prospector unhooked the stew pot, a canteen, and the mess kit and walked into the adit. Jarret waited a minute before he moved silently toward the mine entrance. He paused at the lip, not able to see in without revealing himself, but able to hear the conversation inside.

"Thought you might be gettin' hungry," Dancer was saying. "I brung this for you. Good venison stew."

There was no reply, and Jarret guessed the other person in the adit was already eating.

"Take it easy," Dancer said. "You don't want to make yourself sick on it. There's plenty. I made sure we saved you some. The woman didn't eat much, and I only had a plateful myself."

This time Dancer's companion spoke. Although the voice was muted by a mouthful of food, Jarret had no trouble recognizing it. He stepped into the light and looked directly into the startled emerald eyes of John MacKenzie Worth.

Chapter 12

"Who the hell is it?" Jay Mac demanded, squinting at the entrance. "Dancer? Who's there? Is it one of the killers?"

For a heart-sickening moment Jarret thought Jay Mac was blind; then he watched the older man pat down his vest pocket in a habitual, absent-minded fashion, and understood the problem. He stepped closer.

"Is that what Dancer told you, Jay Mac?" asked Jarret. "That I was a killer?"

"Weren't no lie," Dancer grumbled. "You
are
a killer."

Jay Mac was sitting on the floor of the adit, his legs stretched in front of him. His back rested against a splintered timber, and he was holding a tin plate of stew in one hand at the level of his chest. His silver-threaded vest was rent in a half dozen places, but both shoulder seams of his shirt had been carefully mended. His trousers had been patched at the knee, and everything he wore was covered with a fine layer of rock dust. On the ground beside him lay a dirt-and sweat-stained knobby pine cane.

"What the hell's going on?" Jay Mac demanded again. His eyes narrowed farther, and he studied the intruder from top to bottom. Recognition came when Jarret hunkered down in front of him and Jay Mac's hard stare set-tied on the amused and reckless slant of Jarret's mouth. "My God," he said softly, unbelieving of what his eyes finally told him. "It's you."

Dancer took away Jay Mac's plate before it was dropped. "You know him?" he asked.

"I know him. He helped me out once." He reached out to shake Jarret's hand. "Too bad you weren't around to help me out a second time."

Jarret grasped Jay Mac's hand firmly. "Stopping weddings is one thing, I don't think I could have done much about that train wreck."

"I wasn't referring to the train—" He stopped. "Oh, never mind. I'm through interfering anyway."

Jarret snorted, letting Jay Mac know what he thought. "You don't look much worse for your ordeal," he said. "I take it Dancer's been taking good care of you all this time?"

"The best of care."

Dancer shuffled away, uncomfortable with the praise and being even briefly at the center of attention.

Jay Mac picked up the plate again and began to eat. "You don't mind, do you? I haven't had anything since this morning."

"Go right ahead. You've been here all day?"

He nodded. "I've been helping Dancer with his claim since I was well enough to work." He showed Jarret one of his hands. It was calloused, with dirt under the nails and rock dust lying in the furrows of the knuckles. "It's been good to work like this again. I come out in the morning and stay most of the day. Today, because Dancer was worried about you, I didn't return to the cabin."

"He led you to believe I was dangerous?"

"That's right, but he was only trying to protect me. How would he know you weren't dangerous?"

"Because he
knows
me. Isn't that right, Dancer?" Jarret turned to the prospector only to find he had moved. He spun around, facing the entrance now, and saw Dancer standing on the threshold with his Winchester raised. "Put it down, Dancer. I'm not looking for any trouble."

"Neither am I," the prospector said. "You go on your way, leave me and my friend alone, and we'll all be fine."

Jarret stood slowly, raising his hands, palms up, to the level of his waist. "He's the reason I've come," he said quietly, evenly. He didn't want to spook Dancer. "But I think you realized that, didn't you? There's nothing much that gets past you."

"Nothin' much."

"Do you know who my traveling companion is, then?" he asked.

Dancer's chin jutted forward aggressively. "It's a sure thing she ain't never killed no one," he said, almost daring Jarret to contradict him.

"That's right, she hasn't."

"I thought so. And she weren't really sick neither."

"Not as sick as she appeared to be, no, but she was very ill a short time ago. She's not all that strong yet." He paused to let that sink in, then said, "I think you might have a guess about her identity, Dancer."

"Humph."

Jarret suspected Dancer knew and didn't want to admit it to himself or anyone else. Some sort of bond had been forged between Jay Mac and the old prospector in the months since the train wreck, and Dancer was fighting to keep the only human connection he had made in more than twenty years. "Do you want me to say?" Jarret asked calmly. "You know what it means. She's come a long way to find him."

"I didn't hurt her none."

"I know. But if we don't go back soon, she'll wake up and be frightened that we're gone."

Using the cane for support, Jay Mac struggled up to his knees. He squinted in Dancer's direction. "What's he talking about, Dancer? You told me the woman with him murdered her husband."

"That's what he told me," said Dancer defensively, jerking his rifle at Jarret to emphasize his point.

Jarret realized belatedly that Jay Mac wouldn't know any differently. He probably had first suspected that Jarret's path had crossed his because of a bounty. "But it isn't true," Jarret said. "Tell him, Dancer."

"She got your eyes!" Dancer shouted. His face contorted briefly in anger. The web of scars on the side of his face pulsated as his jaw clenched. He raised the rifle, prepared to shoot, then just as suddenly changed his mind. He spun around on the balls of his feet and charged out of the mine.

Jarret leaned a little weakly against one of the support timbers and waited for his heart to still. He glanced down at his useless right hand as the tingling skittered along his skin from wrist to elbow to shoulder. He swore curtly under his breath.

Jay Mac hauled himself to a stand, leaning heavily on the cane. "You took quite a chance not drawing on him," he said.

"There's not much sense in it when a Winchester's already staring you in the face." To say nothing of the fact that he couldn't have drawn if he'd wanted.

"Still, you took measure of the man's character and realized he wouldn't hurt you. It's not in Dancer to hurt a soul." He looked toward the entrance but couldn't see more than a blur of light and shadow. "Don't worry about him; he'll go off in the hills for a while, then come back when he's ready." He turned to Jarret. "What did he mean about the woman's eyes being mine? Who's come here with you?"

"It's Rennie, sir," Jarret said, finding he had it in him to raise a smile. "She's brought your spectacles."

* * *

Jarret guided the mule back to the cabin while Jay Mac rode. It was a sight that Jarret wasn't likely to forget, and he let the railroad tycoon know it. Jay Mac wanted to hear everything about how they had found him, but Jarret wouldn't oblige him. "You need to hear it from your daughter," was all he said, and the subject was closed.

Jay Mac leaned on Jarret to get from the lean-to to the cabin. "My right leg's healed fine," he said, "but I just sprained the left one again the other day. Dancer warned me I was trying to do too much, that I wasn't strong enough, but I—"

Holding up his hand, Jarret cut him off. "You don't have to explain, sir. I know about how deep the stubborn streak goes."

He chuckled appreciatively. At the door he paused, and his quiet tone was solemn. "I've got no complaints about Dancer Tubbs," he said. "He saved my life. Still, I doubt you can ever know how glad I am you're here. I couldn't have made it out of here for weeks yet, perhaps not even then, and probably not on my own. I've known for a while now that Dancer wasn't going to help me leave."