Nevada Heat (14 page)

“I ain't deliverin' no baby. I'm goin' to the canyon with ever'body else."

Birdwell straightened up to his full, imposing height “You'll go where I tell ya! I say who goes to the canyon." He narrowed his gaze and glared at the younger man. "You know what to do with Serena?"

“No… I…”

“I think he knows, Birdwell," Miranda broke in, and stared at Jesse as he spoke. "At the very least he knows more than I do. You can leave Ezra, too, if you want. Though if the Apaches get past you all, one gun around here more or less won't make that big a difference.”

Jesse ran one hand over his face. Avoiding Miranda's gaze, he looked directly at Birdwell. “Don't I get any say-so in this? I never delivered no human baby. Just cows and horses and such.”

His features were strained and tight, and Miranda heard the tiniest note of panic in his voice. Birdwell obviously didn't, because he countered, "That'll do. Cain't be that much different." He looked at Miranda. "All right. You can keep him here. But Ezra stays, too."

Jesse took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

Birdwell cut him off. "You do what you can for Serena." His black gaze flicked to Miranda and back to Jesse. "And nothin' else! Y'hear?"

Jesse snorted, snatched his hat off, turned on his heel, and marched off down the street, mumbling fiercely.

"You be all right?" Birdwell's whispered concern pulled Miranda back from her speculation about Jesse.

“Yes.” She reached up, pulled the bald man's head down, and kissed his bearded cheek. “We'll be fine. You take care, Birdwell. You're all the family I've got." She patted his broad chest nervously.

Birdwell closed his fingers over her hand and squeezed it. One of his rare smiles lit up his eyes. His voice gruff with emotion, he said softly, "Hell, it'd take a sight more than a pack of surly Apaches to do me in. 'Sides, it's prob'ly just a few young bucks lookin' to cut loose their wolf for a while." He grinned suddenly. "Hell, you know as well as me, them boys feel like they got to hit us a couple times a year… just so's we won't get too comfortable."

Immediately he turned for the cliffs. Then he looked over his shoulder and added, “You watch out for that fella. I ain't so sure about him, Miranda. Matter of fact, I'm a lot more sure about them Indians than him. There's somethin' that ain't right there.”

She nodded. “I’ll be careful." Miranda watched her honorary uncle until he rounded the corner, then she turned and ran down the street toward Serena's cabin. Her long legs moved easily in the buckskin trousers and every time her moccasined feet hit the dirt, they seemed to pound out Birdwell's concern. Ain't right… ain't right… ain't right…

#

Shelly glared at the smiling blond man opposite her. His sparse mustache rode his full lips and curved up at the comers of his mouth. Disgusted, she turned away from him and looked out over the roaring water as it rushed past them. Only an hour or so ago it had been bone-dry. Now it looked as though every drop of water the Good Lord ever created was gathered together there… all to keep her from, escaping Dave Black.

“Really somethin', ain't it?”

She jumped. He was altogether too close. Shelly took a step to one side and nodded.

He moved up again. Pointing to the water, he said softly, “Look there… a big ol’ cottonwood branch."

Her eyes followed the dipping, swaying tree branch, its wet leaves glistening in the late sun. The water turned it, pushed and prodded it until it was dragged beneath the surface.

“Wonder how far it come?" he murmured softly, just behind her ear. Shelly stood as stiff as an iron bar. She felt his breath on the back of her neck and tried to sidestep him. It didn't work.

He touched her arm, and when she jumped uneasily, he let go. The flood in the wash seemed to get louder, its thundering power filling the air around them. Dirt-colored water swirled around rocks, plucked at the roots of quivering mesquite bushes, and went on. She took a step toward the rushing water and he grabbed her arm firmly. This time he held on.

“What the hell are you doin'?" he shouted.

She turned quickly, met his gaze for a split second, then turned away again. "Going back to town."

A gust of wind and the roaring river snatched her voice the moment it left her throat, but Dave read her intentions on her face.

"Are you loco? You can't get back to town. Me neither. We're stuck here for a while, Shelly. Can't you see that?"

“No!” She yanked her arm from his grasp and looked up at him through the eyes of a trapped animal.

“What the hell did I ever do to you, woman?" Dave's fingers curled helplessly into fists at his sides. “Why the hell do you jump like a high-backed cat every time I get too close?"

She looked around her wildly. Her hair slipped loose from its knot and the wind picked up the waist-length mass and swirled it around her features like a black cloud of smoke. Irritably Shelly snatched at it while at the same time stepping back from the angry man across from her.

He took a step closer and she took two back. Instinctively she moved to keep him at a safe distance. Daylight faded quickly as the sun disappeared behind the cliffs. Between the growing darkness and her own hair whipping across her face, Shelly moved blindly in a last-ditch attempt to get away from Dave.

Her right foot stepped back and landed on the cold surface of the raging water, causing Shelly to lose her balance. Her arms waving frantically, she hoped for something to grab onto as her body tipped toward the crashing torrent below.

Before she had time to scream, Dave's arm shot out and snaked around her. Instinctively Shelly grabbed him, her fingers curling tightly around his strong forearms. With two quick, backward steps, he had them both safely away from the edge of the wash.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. Shelly finally raised her gaze to meet his and briefly he saw a shy, feminine awareness shining at him. Then, he watched helplessly as the haunted, distrustful shadows crept back into her eyes. When she tried to pull away, he refused to allow it. His grip on her waist tightened. He smiled down at her and continued to hold her close.

"Let me go."

“Not yet."

She glared at him and made one last futile attempt to wrench herself from his grasp.

“Now settle down, Miss Shelly." Dave shook his head gently. "You got no reason to be all upset."

She stiffened and her breath came fast and furious. Dave felt the tension in her body and sighed. What could he do to convince the woman that he meant her no harm? Hell, she'd damn near drowned herself just to get away from him! He glanced at the rising water and looked back at her set, determined features. If he wasn't careful, he knew that she was just fool enough to try it again, too.

Gritting his teeth against what he knew was coming, Dave quickly bent down, put one arm under her knees, and scooped her up. Shelly's jaw dropped, but she recovered in a hurry. Both of her legs started. kicking while she shoved at his chest.

"Turn me loose, mister, or so help me God, you're gonna be the sorriest bastard that ever walked!"

“Miss Shelly! That any way for a lady to talk?" He kept walking, intent on getting plenty of space between them and the floodwater.

The flat of her hand smacked across his cheek and Dave moved his jaw uncertainly. “There ain't no call for that neither."

“I’ll decide what's called for, you no-good —“

“Here now!" He frowned at her. 'I’ll set you down again. Just as soon as we’re clear of that durn water. You got no call to go smackin' me or callin' me names!"

"And you," Shelly countered, finally giving up the useless fight for freedom and lying still in his arms, "got no call to go pickin' me up and totin' me all over the canyon like I was a sack of potatoes! I didn't ask for your help."

“No, you surely didn't." He shook his head and kept walking toward an overhang of rock. "You wouldn't ask me or any other man for help if it meant your life… which it almost did!”

She crossed her arms and flattened her lips together into a grim line. When he finally set her on her feet, she turned away only to be turned right back by his strong hands.

“Now, Miss Shelly," he said softly, and waited for her to look up at him. “There's somethin' I think you -should know right off."

She stared at him suspiciously.

“I wouldn't never hurt you."

She snorted.

"And I won't allow nobody else to hurt you, neither."

Startled by the blunt declaration, she looked away. But not before Dave saw the sudden sheen of tears in her big brown eyes. A wave of tenderness tugged at his heart. He reached out and touched her cheek gently. Taking a deep breath, Dave said the words he'd wanted to say for weeks. “I love you, Miss Shelly."

He saw her shoulders stiffen, but he was too determined to quit now. She might not want to hear it, but he needed to say it.

“I reckon it'll take you a time to get used to that. Lord knows, it kinda took me by surprise." Dave chuckled. "But it's the truth. I do love you… and someday, Miss Shelly, you're gonna love me back."

She turned to face him slowly. Her eyes wary, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, she shook her head. “Mister, you shouldn't ought to be out on your own. I think you're outta your head."

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the rocks surrounding them. She only stared at him while the last traces of his laughter faded away. Finally Dave looked at her again, bent down, and brushed her lips briefly with his own. "Maybe so, darlin'. It surely ain't the first time I've heard that."

Shelly touched her lips with the tips of her fingers and didn't move away when he reached to cup her cheek.

“But I still love you. And that ain't never gonna change."

The look she shot him left no doubt as to her feelings, but Dave didn't care. She hadn't shied away from him.

It was something.

#

Miranda was sure that she'd have to search for Jesse, but he was standing right outside Serena's cabin, staring at the closed door as if a grizzly bear waited on the other side.

His jaw clenched, his body rigid, he didn't even react when Miranda came alongside and laid her hand on his arm.

"Jesse?" She waited what seemed an eternity for him to look at her. When he did, she saw fear and pain in his eyes.

His fingers closed over her hand. "Miranda, I can't do this. Don't ask me."

She wanted to tell him that it was all right. That she could do it alone.. She wanted to, but something inside her told Miranda that it would be the wrong thing to do. He didn't need her sympathy. He needed her strength. And that’s what he would get. There would be time enough later to find out why a pregnant woman affected him so.

“You have to do this, Jesse." She met his gaze and refused to let him look away. “I don't know anything about it. And Serena needs help." She took a deep breath. "Serena needs you." She paused a moment, then added, "And so do I."

Another eternity passed before Jesse exhaled heavily and nodded. He crossed the boardwalk, pulled at the latch, and opened the door. From an open doorway on his-right, Jesse heard Serena crying. As Miranda stepped into the cabin Ezra Banks came out of Serena's bedroom.

The older man's hand was shaking as he wiped his face with a rumpled, red bandanna. His red-rimmed eyes shot straight to Miranda gratefully then moved over Jesse. For the first time Ezra seemed pleased to see him.

"Praise heaven you come," the man mumbled softly. He took a few steps toward the young people in the doorway. "Oh, it's terrible," he said, shaking his head. "Terrible. She's hurtin' somethin' fierce! Poor Serena." He looked up at Jesse. “Do you know how to help her?"

Jesse shifted position uneasily. As far as he knew, the only thing that helped the pains was gettin' the baby out. He groaned silently. How in the hell had he gotten himself into this? His gaze flicked over the older man in front of him. Poor Ezra was a mess. And the man's panic was catchy. Jesse could feel the tremors begin in Miranda. She pressed close to him and held his hand tightly.

With his free hand, Jesse rubbed his jaw and glanced at the open doorway opposite him. Inside, Serena Dexter lay waiting. But would he see Serena… or would he see Della's image? Would the guilt that never left him keep him from helping someone else?

"Jesse?"

He looked down at Miranda and forced a smile. Her eyes were shadowed with worry and she was counting on him to set things right. The fear that had swamped him earlier faded slightly. There was no hope for it. He was good and caught. He had to deliver this baby. Otherwise all Serena had for help was Miranda and Ezra. “It’s all right, M'randa. We'll do fine."

Faith and confidence shone in her eyes and Jesse drew on it greedily. She almost made him believe that he could do this.

"Ezra," he said, turning to the other man before he could change his mind, "you gonna be helpin' out?"