Spirit's Song (12 page)

What the hell reason did Lula have to be jealous? He didn’t belong to her. He knew she was sweet on him, but hell, the woman earned her living on her back. He swore softly. He had always been fond of Lula, always thought she was a good-looking woman. Until he met Kaylynn. Lula’s dyed hair, rouged cheeks and painted lips seemed garish in the extreme when compared to Kaylynn’s quiet beauty.

Ordering another drink, he made his way to the back of the saloon where a poker game was in progress. He’d had enough of women for one night.

Taking a vacant seat, he bought into the game. He grinned to himself when he won the first hand with four queens.

Women, he mused. God love ’em.

Chapter Seventeen

It was after midnight when Jesse decided to call it a night. He bought a round of drinks for the table, then bid his companions a good night. It had been a profitable four hours. He’d won better than two hundred dollars, and he was feeling good when he left the saloon.

He stood on the boardwalk a minute, enjoying the night air, and then he crossed the street and headed for the hotel.

He paused outside Kaylynn’s door and then passed on by and went into his own room. He tossed his hat on the bedpost, ran a hand through his hair, then glanced at the connecting door.

She had probably been asleep for the last hour or so, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until he was sure she was safely tucked in for the night. It surprised him, the protective instincts she aroused in him. There was a vulnerability about her that made him want to wrap his arms around her, to shield her from the ugliness of the world.

Chiding himself for being a damn fool, he knocked softly on the door between their two rooms, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. When there was no answer, he knocked again, then opened the door.

The lamp beside the bed was lit. The room was empty.

Frowning, he crossed the threshold. The bed hadn’t been slept in. Her tunic and moccasins were in a neat pile on the chair beside the window. The hairbrush and other odds and ends she had bought were on the dresser.

Where the hell was she?

Leaving her room, he went downstairs.

The hotel clerk was dozing behind the desk. He sprang to his feet when Jesse thumped on the bell.

“Yes, sir?”

“The woman I came in with. Did you see her leave the hotel?”

The clerk ran a finger inside his shirt collar. “Why, yes, she left with a gentleman.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps three hours ago.” The clerk pulled his timepiece from his pocket and frowned. “Four hours at the most.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you recognize the man?”

“No, sir. Is anything wrong?”

“I don’t know. Do you remember what the man looked like?”

The clerk frowned thoughtfully. “He was about my height. Brown hair. Wore a black duster, and a fancy, two-gun rig.”

Jesse swore a short, pithy oath. “Obliged for your help.”

Vance Sandler. Jesse swore again as he turned away from the desk and headed for the stairs. What was Kaylynn thinking, to go off with some man she’d never met? And why had Sandler sought her out?

Damn the man. For all that they were friends, they’d always been competitors, vying for the prettiest saloon girls, chasing the highest bounties…

Shit! Taking the stairs two at a time, Jesse ran down the corridor and burst into his room. He should have known better than to believe anything Sandler said. The man lied with all the finesse of a season whore.

Rummaging through his saddlebags, he pulled out the sheaf of wanted posters, tossing them left and right until he found the one he was looking for.

Staring at the wrinkled piece of paper, he called himself every dirty name he could think of.

Ten Thousand Dollar Reward

For information regarding the whereabouts of Kaylynn Summers.

Description: Age 23

Height—5’ 7” Weight—135 pounds

Long auburn hair, Brown eyes

If found, contact Alan Summers First Bank of San Francisco

Jesse wadded the poster into a ball and hurled it against the far wall. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. How could he have been so stupid? He’d had the answer to who she was in his possession the whole time, only he’d been too blind to see it!

Cussing mightily, he gathered his gear and jammed it into his saddlebags, picked up his rifle, then went into Kaylynn’s room and gathered her few belongings as well. And all the time he cursed himself for being a fool. Ten thousand dollars right under his nose and he’d been too blind to see it!

He tried to tell himself that was the cause of his anger, that it had nothing to do with the fact that she was married to another man. Nothing at all to do with the tiny spark of hope that had flickered to life when she had stayed behind to look after him. He had clung to a faint, foolish hope that maybe she wasn’t totally repulsed by his ruined face, that, in time, she might even learn to care for him, that they might be able to build a life together.

With his saddlebags draped over one shoulder and his rifle under his arm, he stalked out of the hotel. His first stop was the livery.

Sean Murphy didn’t like being roused out of a warm bed in the middle of the night, but one look at Jesse’s face kept him from saying so. The bounty hunter looked as though he had just caught a glimpse of a hot and unforgiving hell.

“Did a man and woman ride out of here tonight?” Jesse asked.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t play games with me, Murph. I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry, laddie. They rode out about four hours ago.”

“You see which way they headed?”

Murph shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention, but it might be they headed west.”

“Were they ridin’ double?”

“No. Sandler bought a little dun-colored mare for the lady.”

“Saddle my horse. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

The man who owned the general store wasn’t any happier about being roused out of bed in the middle of the night than Murphy had been, but old Lon didn’t see fit to argue either.

Jesse rounded up enough supplies to last for a couple of days, dumped it all in a gunny sack and headed for the door.

“Hey, wait,” the shopkeeper called. “You didn’t pay for…”

“I’m good for it,” Jesse hollered over his shoulder.

Murphy was standing outside the stable, scratching the roan’s ears, when Jesse arrived.

“She’s important to ye, the lass,” Murphy remarked, and it wasn’t a question.

“Anyone ever tell you to mind your own business?” Jesse asked as he took the mare’s reins and swung into the saddle.

“All the time, boyo. All the time. I hope ye find her.”

“I’ll find her,” Jesse said, sliding the rifle into the boot. “I’ll find her.”

* * * * *

Kaylynn stared at the man sitting across the fire from her.

He was tall and thin, with brown hair and green eyes. He had told her his name was Sandler, and that he was taking her home.

Home to Alan.

Feeling numb, she wrapped her arms around her body. Ten thousand dollars. Alan had put up a reward of ten thousand dollars for her return. A bubble of hysterical laughter rose in her throat. Jesse would probably be mad as a wet cat when he found out he had let ten thousand dollars slip through his fingers.

Jesse. She closed her eyes, the thought of him warming her more than the flames. They had shared little, said little, yet she felt as though she had known him all her life, been waiting for him all her life. His image rose before her, tall and lean, as rugged and enduring as the hills, his face as scarred as her heart.

A tear slid down her cheek. She would never see him again. She told herself it was just as well. They were worlds apart—culturally, ethnically, financially. She was bound by the laws and restrictions of the society in which she lived; he was bound by nothing at all. She was afraid of life, of living. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

She was a married woman, shackled by the vows she had spoken with such hope and conviction. Jesse was as free as the wind, but she belonged to Alan. As his wife, she was his property, just like his fancy house and his shiny carriage.

Alan. She feared and hated him as much as she had once thought she loved him. She watched the dancing flames, wondering if she had ever really loved Alan Summers. With startling clarity, she realized she had never really known him. She had been overwhelmed by his attention, flattered that such an important man, such an extraordinarily handsome man, would be interested in her. She had been blinded by his smile, charmed by his courtly manners, thrilled at the thought of moving to San Francisco, living in a mansion, having a dozen servants to wait on her. She had been so enamored of the package, of the pretty colored paper and bright, shiny ribbons, that she had never lifted the lid, never taken the time to look inside the box and see that it was filled, not with beauty, but with ugliness and cruelty.

“It’s time to turn in.”

With a start, Kaylynn looked up to see her captor standing beside her, a short length of rope in his hand. He meant to tie her up, she thought, suddenly frantic.

“Please,” she said, “please don’t take me back there.”

“You pay me ten grand, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Too bad.”

“Please. You don’t understand…”

“Lady, all I understand is money. And ten thousand dollars is a heap of money.”

She nodded, her expression resigned. “Could I have a cup of coffee before I go to bed?”

He looked at her a moment, then nodded. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then cradled the cup between her palms.

With a sigh of impatience, Sandler sat down. Pulling a knife from a sheath inside his boot, he began to clean his fingernails.

Kaylynn stared into the dwindling flames. She couldn’t go back to Alan. The very thought of what he would do to her made her sick with fear.

She sipped the coffee, then put the cup on the ground. She couldn’t go back to Alan. She had to get away from here.

Now.

Tonight.

Sandler picked up the rope. “You ready now?”

“I have to…to.” She felt her cheeks burn. “You know?”

Sandler grunted. “Be quick about it.”

With a nod, she walked into the darkness until she was sure she was out of sight, and then she began searching for a stick, a rock, anything she could use as a weapon.

“Hurry up, lady!”

Heart pounding, she picked up a rock the size of her fist and tiptoed back toward the fire. Sandler was still sitting there, his back toward her.

It was now or never.

He turned as she brought the rock down on his head, his expression one of utter astonishment. With a sharp cry of surprise and pain, he toppled to the ground. Blood oozed from the side of his head.

Oh, Lord, had she killed him? She bent down and placed her hand over his heart, reassured by the strong, steady beat. Thank God, he was still alive.

Rising, she hurried to where the horses were tethered. She had to get away, now, before he woke up. Saddling her horse would take too much time. Standing on a rock, she pulled herself onto the back of the horse she had ridden earlier. It was a pretty little dun mare, with three black stockings. Taking up the reins to Sandler’s horse, she rode out of camp, the thought of going back to Alan far more frightening than anything she might encounter in the dark.

It felt strange, riding bareback. Taking a deep breath, she urged the horse in the direction she hoped was east. She tried to remember the few landmarks they passed earlier. With any luck, she would find her way back to Red Creek.

* * * * *

Jesse swore under his breath. It hadn’t been easy, tracking in the dark. Fortunately, Sandler wasn’t making any effort to hide his trail; still, even with the help of a full moon, it had been slow going. But the sign was there—two horses headed west. The nearest town was Bourdrie. No doubt Sandler figured to catch a stage headed west from there.

He swore again, wondering if the bounty hunter would ride straight through to Bourdrie. If that was the case, Jesse knew he would never catch them, not with the lead Sandler had. He had to hope that Kaylynn would slow the other man down, that Sandler had made camp for the night.

The sky was turning gray when the roan snorted, her ears pricking forward. Straightening in the saddle, Jesse peered into the distance. Had he heard something? The roan made a soft snuffling noise, and then Jesse heard it, the sound of hoofbeats off to the left.

He slid the rifle out of the saddle boot, his ears tracking the sound. A horse whinnied in the distance. There was the sound of brush being trampled, and then two horses crested a small rise.

Jesse grinned as he recognized the woman on the back of the dun mare.

“Hey,” he drawled.

Kaylynn’s eyes grew wide as Jesse dismounted and walked toward her. He looked up at her for a long moment, and then, slowly, he reached for her. With a sigh, she slid into his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Kaylynn nodded, too close to tears to speak.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, wondering why this man, of all men, should make her feel so safe.

“Where’s Sandler?”

“Back there somewhere.”

“How’d you get away?”

She burrowed deeper into his arms, remembering how afraid she had been when she had opened the hotel door expecting Jesse and found a stranger with a gun instead. “I hit him over the head with a rock. I thought I’d killed him.”