Chasing Rainbows (39 page)

“Of what?”

“Why, the sign, of course.”

Jake gave it a cursory glance. “You’re really going through with this, then.”

His voice held no encouragement. He took hold of Weed’s reins and led him toward the barn. Annie followed, determined not to give up. The barn smelled of horses and leather and hay, a welcome break from the rank odors of the hotel. Deep twilight shadows filled the stalls, tinting the an with purple and rose, and changing the golden piles of hay to a soft, mellow amber. Jake lit a kerosene lantern and hung it on the wall, softly illuminating the space.

Annie watched the play of his muscles beneath his shirt as he lifted Weed’s saddle and set it on a nearby rail. He wordlessly picked up a brush and began grooming his mount, brushing his coat with long, even strokes. Annie knew that touch. It was firm and gentle, soft and soothing. He had once brushed his strong hands over her body in just the same manner as he was brushing Weed. Although Jake was clearly trying to ignore her, Annie knew that he was as aware of her presence as she was of his. The air between them was highly charged, thick and heavy with tension.

The tension wasn’t sexual, however. Annie had felt something like it once before in a saloon. Two men had been playing poker when their game had suddenly erupted. The players had slammed down then cards and lurched to their feet, each man calling the other a cheat and a liar. Annie had held her breath and waited, wondering which one would be the first to make a move for his gun. The same air of stress and nerve-racking anticipation now hung between her and Jake.

The memory of that game gave her the inspiration she needed for approaching him. She moved forward and leaned against the door to Weed’s stall. “What would you do if you were dealt a bad hand, and you’d staked everything you owned on the game?” When he didn’t answer, Annie bravely continued, “You’d play it out, that’s what you would do. That’s exactly what I intend to do. This is my home now. It’s not what I expected, but I think I can make it work. I’m staying, Jake. I’m through running.”

He turned and looked at her for a long minute. “Your choice,” he said flatly.

It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but it would have to do. “I appreciate your agreeing to stay on.”

“For a little while.”

His words cut through her. “Right. For a little while.” Annie glanced around the stall, avoiding his eyes. Once she had sufficiently composed her emotions, she pasted a smile on her face and said brightly, “Jennie Mae’s fixing dinner tonight. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes. It’ll be ready in a few minutes if you want to get washed up. I thought it might be a nice chance for us all to get to know one another.”

With an abrupt reversal of motion, Jake reached for Weed’s saddle and tossed it over the stallion’s back. “I won’t be here.”

“But you just bedded Weed down,” she protested.

“I changed my mind.”

“Where are you going?”

Jake glanced up, meeting her eyes for the first time that evening. “That, darlin’, is none of your damned business.”

Annie clenched her fists, watching as Jake led Weed out of the barn. She wanted Jake Moran, she needed him, and she loved him. But not like this. In that realization, she found a strength she had never known she possessed. She followed him outside, clutching her coat tightly against the cool night breeze.

“Jake?”

He stopped, then slowly turned. “What?”

“This is my hotel now. I own it. I might owe you money, but you’ll still be working for me. The next time you tell me to go to hell, you’re fired.”

She turned without another word and made her way inside.

Jake knew he had done nothing wrong. Annie was the one who had betrayed him, not the other way around. Yet, despite everything he knew, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy, not to mention guilty as hell. It was idiotic, really, when it was his neck that was about to be stretched. Still the feeling persisted, growing stronger every time he looked at Annie and saw the hurt and confusion in her big golden-brown eyes.

She was good — he’d give her that. She had spun him upside down and inside out and still continued to do so. In his conceit, Jake had imagined that he had enough intelligence — if not just plain old gut-level intuition — to determine who was lying and who was not. Therefore what astounded him most was not Annie’s deviousness but his own idiocy. The legendary Outlaw Annie had acted the part of an innocent ingénue, and he had bought it.

He had been as gullible as any greenhorn who’d ever plopped himself down at a poker table, laid down his money, looked at his cards, and asked what beat what. Worse, really, because at least the greenhorn didn’t know any better. Jake knew better. And still he had allowed himself to be taken in. Instead of using Annie as a means to an end, he had allowed her to become the end herself. For a short time there, he had thought of settling down with her… actually building a home together. He had erred in the most fundamental way, ignoring a rule that was obvious to any man who had ever held a gun: Keep your eye on what you want to hit. He’d allowed his aim to drift off target. Instead of focusing on capturing the Mundy Gang, he had focused his entire attention on Annie.

Well, no more.

And yet, despite his determination, he still harbored seeds of doubt. Annie was part of the gang… Annie wasn’t part of the gang. His mind seesawed back and forth. Depending on the day, the hour, and the minute, he could sway himself either way. The thought buzzed around his head continually, as annoying and insistent as a fly at a summer picnic. He couldn’t get away from it, or from his thoughts of Annie.

Two full weeks had gone by since their arrival in Cooperton. True to his word, Sheriff Cayne had wired Jake the money he had held in trust for him. Walter Pogue and his deputies were on their way. Jake had absolutely no idea where to tell them to find the Mundys once they did arrive, despite the fact that he had spent the past two weeks lurking around the property searching for signs of the gang.

Worse still, in the two weeks that had passed, Jake had seen nothing to indicate that Annie was interested in anything beyond fixing up her hotel. In his opinion, The Palace had been beyond hopeless disrepair. It was as forlorn a fleabag as any he had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. To his amazement, however, Annie and the other women appeared determined to make a go of it. While Jake had absented himself as much as possible from the hustle and bustle, he couldn’t help but notice that Annie had spent every minute of every day working her pretty little ass off. She was still wearing her holsters, but now she was packing a set of hammers in them instead of her guns.

The building had needed soap and water, paint, carpentry, and a thorough disinfecting. Annie and the women fought fleas, lice, roaches, mud, and tobacco stains. They washed and repaired sheets, restuffed mattresses, beat rugs, mended draperies, restuffed the upholstery, scrubbed and polished the wood floors, replaced windows rotted out by weather and age, cleaned the stove, cleared the chimney of birds’ nests, and whitewashed the walls.

From what he had heard, Annie had spent every last nickel of her own savings. When that had run out, she had taken loans from the women who lived there, spending their money as well as her own to fix up the hotel. Although their reception in town had been decidedly cool, the townspeople apparently weren’t adverse to taking their money. The women bought new pots and pans from a traveling man and linens from the general mercantile. They contracted with a woman in town for vegetables until their own garden started producing, bought home-baked pies from the preacher’s wife, and made arrangements with a local rancher for the delivery of milk and an occasional slaughtered pig or side of beef.

The results had been amazing. Determined to achieve respectability for the hotel and to create a reputation for the saloon, Annie had ingeniously divided the two buildings. She hired a carpenter from town to seal off the inner wall completely, making the saloon and the hotel two distinct and separate entities, each with its own entrance. To distinguish them further, she whitewashed the hotel and painted the doors and shutters an attractive dark green, while she left the walls of the saloon their natural cedar, allowing the wood to continue to weather gracefully. She had christened the saloon the
Bella Luna
and hung a large crescent moon above the door. A plaque posted on the outer wall read discreetly:
A saloon for gentlemen. Serving the territory’s best cigars, whiskey, beer, and bitters. Honest tables.

Then she hired a bartender, a tiny wizard of a man named Johnny Dill. He had short, spiky gray hair, a face like a bulldog, and the loyalty to match. He was a good choice. He took over the bar like he had lived there all his life. In the five days that the Bella Luna had been open for business, Johnny had listened to dozens of long-winded, boring stories without a single yawn, had kicked out rowdy drunks before they became destructive drunks, hadn’t watered down the whiskey — at least, not so much that any of his customers could tell — and had broken up three fistfights, and he stayed out of Jake’s business when it came to running the tables.

The saloon’s only connection to the hotel was through a back door that led to the hotel’s kitchen. In that way, Annie was able to offer full home-cooked meals to both the patrons of the Bella Luna and the patrons of Foster’s Hotel. Jake watched as Carlotta swung through that back door, carrying two plates of ham, eggs, and fried potatoes. She deposited the food and went back to the bar for a round of beer. All in all, Jake thought, glancing around, it was a damned fine saloon. It boasted a long, polished bar with a looking glass above it, shiny wood floors rather than sawdust, comfortable tables and chairs, and wide windows that looked out on the street. It was masculine but welcoming, a relaxing place for a man to settle in and while away a few spare hours.

Not everything Annie had planned had gone as smoothly as she had hoped, however. Although Annie hadn’t come to him directly, he had heard through Dora and others of the mysterious accidents that had plagued them during the renovations. They had started out as pranks: cow chips were dumped in a vat of beer purchased for the Bella Luna, a skunk was tossed down the chimney, and sheets that had been washed and hung out to dry were knocked down and dragged through the mud. In time, the pranks became increasingly disturbing and dangerous. A small fire had mysteriously started in the barn. A wood banister gave way, almost sending Jennie Mae pitching down the stairs. A large looking glass had been cracked just enough to shatter in Francine’s hands when she picked it up.

And when Annie wasn’t fighting the anonymous pranksters, she was dealing with rowdy former clients. Jake had been in the middle of a game of seven-card stud when he had heard shotgun blasts coming from the hotel and the sound of women screaming. He had bolted up and gone running next door, his guns cocked and ready, his heart in his throat and his pulse hammering wildly. He had been certain he was about to find either Annie or one of the women lying in a pool of blood. Instead he had found Annie and Dora standing shoulder to shoulder on the front porch, smoke pouring from the barrel of Dora’s buffalo gun. Across from them were two drunken miners, dressed in nothing but their red-flannel skivvies. The men were swearing up a storm and demanding to be let inside. A second shotgun blast from Dora’s gun had scattered a thick spray of mud at their feet and persuaded them to find their fun elsewhere.

Jake’s relief that Annie had not been hurt had been a living, tangible thing. He had let out his breath in a rush, realizing only then that he had been holding it in. His hands had been shaking as he holstered his weapons, and a cold bead of sweat had trickled down his back. Not trusting his voice to speak, he had simply nodded at the women and walked wordlessly back to the Bella Luna.

That was the main reason Jake was so mad at Annie. It wasn’t just her lies and deceit. That he could deal with, maybe even understand. He was furious with her because he was so goddamned afraid. If there was one thing in this world Jake hated more than anything, it was being scared. And Annie scared the shit out of him. He was scared that she might be injured by one of the mysterious pranks. Scared that she might be hurt by one of the bordello’s former clients. Scared she might be shot dead one day while riding with the Mundy Gang. Scared she might be picked up by the law and hanged.

He felt constantly on guard, ever watchful and wary. Since their confrontation outside the barn two weeks ago, Annie had made herself conspicuously absent, obviously determined to avoid him at all costs When their paths did cross, she acknowledged him with nothing more than a cool nod and continued on her way. True to her word, she had left the running of the saloon to him, while she had taken over the hotel. She hadn’t even so much as set foot inside the Bella Luna — at least, not while he was there.

Which was why it came as an even greater shock to hear the bat-wing doors of the saloon slam open and see Annie storm inside, looking like the wrath of hell. Her boots rapped against the wood floor as she strode purposefully across the room. Her color was high, and her eyes were stormy. Her breath came in short, jerky gasps, reminding him of the last time they had made love. Annie, however, did not look ready to make love. The lady looked like she was spoiling for a fight.

Jake leaned back in his chair, perversely happy to give it to her. “Miss me?” he drawled.

She ignored him and lifted up his coffee cup, taking a quick whiff. “Keeping sober, I see,” she announced churlishly as she set the cup down. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Jake froze. “Annie, darlin’?”

“What? And don’t call me darlin’.”

“If you were a man, I’d kill you for that,” he said slowly. “You understand me?”

Silence had already fallen over the room at Annie’s stormy entrance Now the four men who sat at Jake’s table sucked in their breath and edged back their chairs, staring from Jake to Annie with undisguised fascination.

Annie drew herself up and glanced around the room, as though suddenly aware of their audience. She took a deep breath and sent Jake a tight nod. “I wonder if I might speak to you privately, Mr. Moran?”