Nevada Heat (18 page)

There was something else going on. Something beyond the birth of the baby.

Shelly cocked her head and studied Miranda as the woman bent over Serena, unnecessarily straightening the bedclothes. What else had the two people shared during that long, lonely night? Were the shadows in Miranda's eyes a betrayal of a new knowledge of passion?

Leaving the small bedroom, Shelly glared down at Ezra, still sleeping off his drunk. He should have stayed sober. He should have kept watch.

Shelly's insides twisted. If what she suspected was true, there was nothing to be gained by pointing fingers. Besides, if there was a finger to be pointed… it should be aimed at her. When her friend needed her, Shelly had been sound asleep in the arms of a man who was becoming altogether too important to her.

She walked over to the tiny cookstove. She fed some kindling to the half-dead fire and watched new flames spring up and devour the fresh wood. As Shelly reached for .the blackened-coffeepot she told herself it was too late to protect Miranda completely… but she made a silent vow to keep a watchful eye on Jesse Hogan, to see that he did no more damage.

#

"A couple more beers ought to do it," Buck said, and looped his fingers through the handles of six glass mugs, three in each hand. He grinned and carried the drinks through the crowd, back to the table he shared with Dave, Jesse, Miranda, Shelly, and Birdwell. As he set the glasses down carefully he smiled all around and ignored the fact that his was the only smiling face.

“C'mon now," he urged. "Let's have a drink to celebrate, huh?"

“Celebrate? After a night like we all had?" Birdwell shook his bald head. “I'm too durned tired to celebrate."

“I hear ya," Dave commented. "Why, I don't believe I got more than five minutes' sleep all night." He glanced at Shelly, but she looked away.

Jesse ignored the couple and reached for his drink.

Buck chuckled. "See there. Ol’ Jes don't mind celebratin', and to my way of thinkin', he had the worst night of all of us put together!"

“Just like a man," Shelly tossed in. "Serena's the one in pain,, but it's Jesse you feel for."

“Now don't get your back up, Miss Shelly." Buck lifted his glass and took a long drink. “I'm not takin' anything away from Serena. Lord knows, I'm right happy that the Good Lord saw fit to have women be the ones to bear children. It's only that anytime a man's got to be that close to a birthin'…" He shuddered and took another gulp. “Pure sets me to shiverin' just to think about it."

Jesse glanced at the other man and a halfhearted smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Reckon it's a good thing I left you behind, Hogan." Birdwell's calm, controlled voice cut off another of Buck's observations. “With Ezra passed out and such… well, you were a help to Miranda."

Jesse's fingers toyed with his glass. He didn't look up. Birdwell's gaze shifted from the silent man to the woman he considered a daughter. Miranda seemed intent on studying the white foam riding the top of her untouched beer.

"Lucky for all of us, we didn't need him at the canyon," Buck said. “Now, Birdwell, why you think them durned Indians just up and left the way they did?"

The big man shrugged. “No way of knowin'. Just be glad they did." He pushed away from the table and stood up. "Prob'ly just some young bucks out lookin' for a little fun. Sometimes they get frisky this time of year." He yawned. “We was just lucky none of their wild hair-teasin' shots hit anybody. What with the ricochets and such, it could've been a lot worse."

The others nodded solemnly.

"You think we hit any of them?" Buck wondered aloud.

“Doubt it." Birdwell drained the last of his beer. "Them Apaches was young. Not stupid. Don't believe I actually saw one of 'em all night." A jaw-cracking yawn split his features. "Anyhow, I'm purely tuckered out." Birdwell looked down at Miranda. "Ever'body in town's prob'ly gonna sleep for hours. We left the Sully boys up at the canyon mouth to keep watch. Anything happens, one of them'll hightail it in and let us know. But I reckon this little 'raid' is about done. Why don't you go to your cabin and get some rest yourself?"

She looked up and smiled at him. "Maybe I will at that. It was a long night…" Her gaze slid to Jesse, then moved on. Slowly she stood up and linked her arm through Birdwell's. "Walk me home?"

As the incongruous couple left Big Pete's place Buck looked at Jesse and said thoughtfully, "That Birdwell, now. He reminds me of a big ol’ blacksmith used to have 'a shop near my folks back home."

Jesse's fingers turned the beer mug.

“Yes, sir," Buck went on. “I get a hankerin' ever now and again to head on home… just to look the place over. See somethin' familiar. Know what I mean, Dave?"

Dave studied his partner for a long minute before saying, "Yeah, Buck. I sure do. Feel that way myself time to time."

"How 'bout you, Jesse?" Buck asked casually. "Where you from?"

Jesse flicked a quick glance at the man. "Texas." He lifted the mug and took a long swallow of cold beer.

Buck chuckled. "Well now, Texas is a big place. Where 'bouts is home?"

Jesse stared at the other man silently. Why all the questions? Was it possible that these men had begun to doubt him? Why? What had he done to arouse suspicion? Buck's gaze was open. Friendly. And still, Jesse hesitated.

Finally though, he told himself it wouldn't matter. Not one person in twenty would have even heard of his hometown. There was almost no chance at all that any of these folks would have heard about Carter and Della Hogan's death. After all, why would they care? Not only were they all outlaws… but what could the lives of a young couple on a small ranch in Texas mean to any of them?

He looked at Buck before saying quietly, "Coldwater." Was there a short flash of recognition in the other man's eyes? No, Jesse told himself, he was imagining things. Why the hell would anyone here mow a little place like Coldwater?

"That there's a new one on me," Buck said on a laugh. "How 'bout you, Dave? You ever hear of it?" Jesse looked at the blond man opposite him. Dave's features were as empty as a gambler's heart.

"No, sir, don't believe I ever have," Dave muttered.

"Not surprised," Jesse said, his lips curving involuntarily into a memory-filled smile. "Ain't much more than a spot in the road. It's about a day's ride-east of El Paso."

"Good country." Dave mumbled his comment and reached for his beer.

"Yeah."

“You lived in town, did ya?"

Jesse's brow furrowed as he stared at Buck. Why was the man so damned interested all of a sudden? Even Birdwell hadn't asked all these questions. Still… if he was to keep on the' good side of these fellas, maybe it was best to just keep his answers as close to the truth as he dared. Too many lies only made things more confusing. So he said, "No. Had me a ranch about twenty miles outside of town."

Jesse looked down at his suddenly trembling hands and missed the quick, worried look Dave and Buck exchanged.

#

But Shelly saw it. She didn't know quite what to make of it, either. But there were altogether too many strange things going on in Bandit's Canyon to suit her. She found herself wishing that none of these men had set foot inside her sanctuary. For three years she'd known a kind of peace she'd never hoped to find. For three years she'd lived safely in the midst of criminals and outcasts. For three years she'd been able to sleep the night through without worrying about attack.

She let her gaze move slowly over the men seated at her table. A chill crawled up her spine and she curled her fingers tight around the handle of her glass to keep from shaking. The three men, each of them wrapped in his own secrets, stared at each other, wariness battling curiosity. The other conversations in the bar faded away. The discordant noise of the untuned piano, slipped into silence. Shelly heard only her own thoughts and wished she could disregard even those.

Because somehow she had the distinct feeling that the men seated at her table had brought destruction with them.

#

Miranda slipped quietly out of her cabin and closed the door behind her. Her fingers tightened over the handle of the big basket she carried as she shot a quick, searching gaze over the street. No one. A satisfied smile curved her lips and she stepped down off the boardwalk and hurried toward the corral.

After sitting alone in her cabin for more than an hour, she was eager to be on her way. But now she was glad she'd waited. She'd given everyone in town time to be in their beds sleeping off the long night before. Now there wouldn't be anyone around to interfere with her plans.

Clumsily she shifted the basket from one hand to the other, her body leaning to one side to offset the weight. It wasn't going to be an easy climb, hauling the basket along, but it would be worth it. Miranda bit her lip uneasily as she thought about what Birdwell's reaction to her plan would be. Hopefully, though, he wouldn't find out what she'd done. All she had to do was get back to town before anyone woke up. And they were all so tired, they should sleep for hours!

Miranda breathed deeply, drawing the sun-warmed desert into her lungs. Strange, she thought. By all rights she, too, should be sound asleep, exhausted from a night without sleep and the worry she'd experienced.

Not to mention, her brain chided, the extraordinary encounter she'd experienced with Jesse only that morning. She'd been so weak… so drained after he'd… well. She stopped, switched the basket to her other hand, and tried to turn her mind to something else. Determinedly she kept climbing the familiar, narrow path winding its way up the red cliff face of the canyon. Still, it was strange, Miranda told herself, that the very act that had left her wobbly arid languid, could, only a couple of hours later, fill her with a driving energy and a need to be busy!

A tingling sensation curled in her loins as though her body was ready and waiting for Jesse's knowledgeable fingers to touch her again. Her breath quickened, her heart pounded, and the palms of her hands became suddenly too damp to carry the basket another step.

Miranda set her burden down in the middle of the path and leaned back against the cliff wall. The sun-heated rock burned against her shirt and she felt the sting of it on her flesh. But she didn't move away. Deliberately she arched closer to the rock, leaning her head back and staring at the wide expanse of cloudless, blue afternoon sky above. Miranda tried desperately to concentrate on the jagged, heated boulder behind her. Instead the canyon's heat seemed to make the burning between her legs even hotter and more impossible to ignore.

What was happening to her? Her eyes wide, she searched the heavens for an answer and found nothing. Miranda flicked a quick glance toward the town below. From this distance Bandit's Canyon looked like a ghost town. Abandoned. Yet her aching body reminded her that Jesse was below. Probably sleeping like everyone else, but still, he was there.

She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but somehow she'd gone far beyond her initial attraction to Jesse Hogan. And it was far too late now to pretend that she could still honor the vow made to her mother. Heaven knew, Miranda had never intended to care for an outlaw. It had simply happened. And now that it had, she was powerless to do anything about it. Even if she wanted to.

Inhaling sharply, Miranda turned her back on the town and Jesse Hogan. She reached down, grabbed the basket, and started climbing again. Maybe if she walked fast enough, climbed high enough, she would be able to outdistance the aching need she felt to go back and find Jesse.

#

He stepped out of the shadows and paused for a long moment. She'd almost spotted him. If he'd been. just a hair slower, Miranda would have caught him in the act of following her.

And why shouldn't she? For God's sake, man! Why're you sneakin' around like a drunk at a teetotaler's party? He snorted. He knew good and well why he was creepin' from rock to rock, stayin' undercover. 'Cause he didn't trust himself alone with her anymore — that’s why!

Jesse snatched his hat off and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. This was the most damn fool thing he could ever remember doing. If he'd had the sense God gave a rock, he'd have simply waked up Birdwell and told the man what Miranda was up to. But no. No, he had to follow her to Lord knew where. In the heat of the day, climbing straight up the goddamn cliff!

And just what the hell did she have in the damn basket?

Disgusted, Jesse braced his palms on either side of the rock niche he'd slipped into and pushed himself clear. Then, slowly, he began his climb again. He couldn't let her take off on her own. Hell, anything might happen. Not counting Indians… she could fall, be snake-bit …with Miranda, there was just no tellin' what she could get herself into!

Besides, he told himself, with all the other men in town sittin' up all night on the rocks, it was only right that he chase her down. All he'd had to do was deliver a baby!

He looked up the path and shook his head. Lord, she was a fast climber! Why hadn't she just stayed in town to sleep, like everybody else? After all they'd been through, you'd think she'd have passed out as deadly as Ezra. Didn't she have the sense to be tired?