Nevada Heat (23 page)

"I don't know." He exhaled in a rush and pulled her close. Her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, Jesse said softly, “I only know that as long as I live, I'll carry you… and today, in my heart. No matter what else happens, Miranda" — he tilted her head back and forced her to look at him — “I’ll never be sorry. I only hope you won't be." A sudden, clear image of Miranda, soft and rounded with his child, flashed through his mind. Jesse was momentarily stunned as he realized for the first time what he might have done. Intuitively he knew that the chance of a pregnancy hadn't occurred to Miranda yet. Just as he knew that he would now have to stay in Bandit's Canyon. At least until he knew if she carried his child or not.

Surprisingly that thought didn't bother him in the least.

Miranda reached up and stroked one finger along his clenched jaw. “No, Jesse, I'll never be sorry. No matter what."

He studied her face for a long, breathless moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. His hands moved up and down her arms slowly and there was a sad good-bye in his touch. When she opened her mouth to speak, Jesse inhaled sharply.

"Gettin' late," he said. “We'd best head back."

He released her and went to pick up the basket and Miranda knew that he was already putting their time together behind him. Trying to distance from her before the people in town did it for him. She glanced up at the darkening sky overhead and rubbed her arms as a sudden, cold breeze shot through the hideaway.

The magic was gone.

#

"Whoa there, Miss Shelly." Dave reached out and grabbed her arm as she hurried past. "Where you off to in such a bother?"

She yanked at her arm, but Dave held her fast. “Let go," she warned.

"Here now." Dave grinned. "You look like you're off to do some scalpin'. Anybody I know?"

Shelly's lips twisted mutinously, but she said nothing.

“Just simmer down a bit, Miss Shelly." His grip on her arm loosened slightly and she pulled away. ”I just woke up, y'know. I ain't up to a whole lot of shenanigans till after at least one cup of coffee."

“I didn't ask for your help," Shelly pointed out, then continued on down the boardwalk, her heels clicking furiously.

He caught up in a few easy strides and walked briskly beside her. "You gonna tell me where you're goin'?"

“No.”

“Hmmm,” He glanced at her curiously and asked, "Serena all right?"

She shot him a look. "Serena's fine. Ezra's sittin' with her."

"Ezra?"

“What's wrong with Ezra?"

“Nothin'. Just a unusual choice for a nursemaid."

“I won't be gone long."

"That brings us back where we started." Dave grabbed her elbow again to slow her down some. "Where we goin'?"

Shelly drew a deep breath, looked pointedly at his hand until he pulled it away, then answered, "I’m goin' to see Birdwell."

“He ain't at his place." Dave grinned slowly. “He's down to Big Pete's havin' a wake-up shot.”

Her shoulders slumped, but she did a quick about face and began to back up the way she'd come. She should have known the big man wouldn't still be abed. More wasted time now. Hurrying toward the saloon at the end of the street, Shelly tried to ignore Dave's presence. It wasn't easy.

“What you want with Birdwell?"

“I need him to do somethin' for me."

"Well, what is it?" Dave stepped out in front of her and stopped dead, forcing her to a halt. "Maybe I could help. Save you a trip."

"No. It has to be Birdwell."

He sighed and shook his head. "Miss Shelly, I been tryin' real hard to convince you to trust me some." Her eyes narrowed and he hurried on. “I ain't askin' for a lot… just a little bit of faith, now and again." He cocked his head and smiled at her teasingly. “Kinda try me out. Give me a chance."

She tried to step around him, but he was too quick.

"Why don't you tell me what's got you so het up?"

Concern flashed in his blue eyes and Shelly was sorely tempted to confide in him. Memories of the long night spent safely in his arms rushed back, but she pushed them away. One night was not enough to convince her.

"Let me try to help?" he wheedled. “Huh? What d'ya say?"

"You can't help," she said finally, her decision made. “You'd be on his side."

His eyebrows shot straight up. "Well, now I got to know what's goin' on. C'mon with me." Dave took her arm firmly, allowing for no arguments, and pulled her toward the restaurant. “You can tell me over coffee."

Shelly cast one last look over her shoulder toward Big Pete's place before Dave hustled her inside the restaurant.

#

“You seen Miranda?" Birdwell looked up when Buck passed the table.

“No, sir, I ain't." Buck lifted his glass sheepishly. “But I ain't hardly left the saloon since we all come back, didn't even go to bed yet. So it ain't likely I'd see her, is it?"

Birdwell frowned. His black gaze moved over the small barroom, barely stopping at anyone, familiar figure. Something wasn't right. Oh, Miranda'd gone off on her own before, been doin' it since she was a child. Didn't usually stay gone this long, though. And there had been that Indian scare just the night before.

Besides, this time Jesse Hogan was gone, too.

Birdwell shook his shaggy head and snorted. Most times Miranda could take care of herself as well as any man. Hadn't he seen to that himself? But, he thought, now that she was grown, there was a different sort of danger. One that Birdwell didn't feel capable of saving her from.

He stared down into the dregs of his beer. Hell, he couldn't whip every man that came buzzin' 'round her. It'd be natural to miss one or two. A man couldn't be everywhere at once. And he had the feelin' that Jesse Hogan had managed somehow to get around him to Miranda.

If the two of them were off together somewhere right now, there wasn't a damn thing Birdwell could do about it. There was so many nooks and crannies and caves and the like in the canyon, the two of them could be just about anywhere. Shit, a man could walk right past their hidey-hole and not even see it.

Solemnly Birdwell lifted the mug and tossed the last of his beer down his throat. He signaled to Pete for another, then leaned back in his chair.

And if they were together? If Miranda was in love with Hogan? Then what?

Hell.

Jesse Hogan. Birdwell rubbed his bearded jaw and propped one boot on the chair next to him. What was it about Hogan that didn't ring true? Nothin' for certain. Nothin' that Birdwell could put a name to. It was more of a feelin' than anything else. He'd spent years livin' on the outside of the law. Trustin' his own judgment of people had saved his bacon time and again over the years. And every gut instinct he had was tellin' Birdwell that somethin' about Jesse Hogan wasn't right.

That man was no outlaw. Birdwell's jaw clenched and he stared blankly into the smoky air of the saloon. For some reason, Hogan was bound and determined to pretend to be a badman. But he had no more claim to the name than Birdwell did to bein' a solid citizen.

Pete brought another beer to the table and took away the empty glass. A burst of laughter from the corner drew Birdwell's gaze. He watched Buck Farley, his arm looped over Fat Alice's shoulders. That's another one, Birdwell told himself. Buck and his ridin' partner, Dave. Them two was all wrong, just as much as Jesse.

What the hell was goin' on?

Sighing, the big man lifted his glass, tilted his head back, and chugged down the beer. He slapped the mug back onto the table and pushed himself to his feet. He was just gettin' too damn old for all of this. He should have gotten out of the canyon two years ago when Judd died. He should have forced Miranda to leave. Hell, she deserved better than this! Outlaws and whores wasn't the kind of folks she could build a decent life with. He wanted her to have a home. Maybe a husband. A family.

Grumbling softly, he told himself that he should have taken all the money he'd saved over the years and bought himself and Miranda a place. A ranch maybe, near some nice little town where she could go to church socials and meet a good man whose face she'd never see on a wanted poster.

But he'd let himself be talked into stayin'. A reluctant smile curved his lips momentarily. Miranda wouldn't hear of "deserting" Bandit's Canyon and the folks she thought of as family. Her soft heart kept askin' what would happen to Ezra and Pete, Shelly, Alice and Wilma? Where would the others go for the winter? Who would take care of 'em?

And now he'd waited too long. If she had feelin's for Hogan, he'd never get her to leave. Miranda was a good woman, but she had a head as hard as the rocks in the canyon.

If he could have Judd Perry in front of him for just five minutes, Birdwell knew that he'd give his old friend what for. Between the two of them, they'd managed to wedge Miranda into a corner that she might not be able to get out of.

Disgusted, Birdwell turned and left the saloon. He stood on the boardwalk, his gaze fixed on the far rock wall. It was almost sunset, and the canyon walls seemed to glow with the captured heat of the desert sun. A lavender sky hung over the craggy peaks and Birdwell fancied he could see Miranda making her way down the narrow path toward home.

He stroked his full beard thoughtfully. If she truly cared for Jesse Hogan, there might be a way out of this situation after all. Birdwell smiled softly. Hogan was no outlaw, he felt it in his bones. But the man might make a good husband.

#

Jesse stretched out his hand to help her over the last patch of loose pebbles scattered over the trail. Even as he felt her fingers wrap around his, he knew that she didn't need his help. He knew that her reason for taking his hand was the same as his for offering it.

The need to touch again.

And Lord, he needed to touch her again. To hold her. To hear her voice, soft and low in his ear. How would he ever be able to leave her? Since Miranda, the cold that had enveloped him for the last two years had disappeared. How could he ever go back to the loneliness he'd known before? How would he survive?

His fingers tightened over hers as if her hand was a rope, tossed to a drowning man. A rope he never wanted to let go of. Jesse even found himself hoping that he'd given her a baby that afternoon.

"Jesse?"

Miranda's voice shattered his wayward thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about Texas — about Coldwater."

He flinched and hoped she didn't notice. Coldwater. All of the memories he'd tried to bury for the last two years rushed back at him, smothering the new, bittersweet images in his brain. In a sea of emotion, he moved his thumb across her knuckles, smoothing over her comforting warmth. His right hand, though, tightened convulsively over the handle of the basket he carried.

Portraits of his brother and sister-in-law swam before his eyes. The ranch they'd worked so hard for, abandoned now and neglected. Miles and miles of open country. Cottonwood trees and the flower bed with Della's prized roses. The barn he and Carter had finished just before the first big snow. And the corral where they'd had their last fight.

Jesse wished suddenly that Miranda had been able to see his home before it had all changed forever. He wished that he could take her now to meet Carter and Della. Della would have liked Miranda. The two of them would have gotten on well together. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sad parody of a smile. He and Carter wouldn't have stood a chance around two such strong-minded females!

What a time the four of them could have had!

"Jesse?"

His jaw clenched, Jesse tried to steady his breathing. He fought to separate the painful memories from the good. He didn't want to concentrate solely on his brother and sister-in-law's deaths anymore. The images of them laughing and loving each other were so much more important. In this long quest for revenge-justice, he didn't want to lose sight of the people they were. And until he'd come to the canyon and found Miranda, Jesse realized that he'd almost forgotten the living, breathing family he'd lost in the face of their terrible, senseless deaths.

“Jesse?” she said again, more hesitantly this time.

He stopped and turned to look at her. Miranda's shining blue-green eyes held him and wouldn't let go. Without saying a word, she seemed to urge him to speak. To invite her into his pain and let her share and understand it.

She gave him an uncertain smile and Jesse felt a loosening of the last iron band of loneliness that had held him prisoner so long.

Chapter 14

"Jesse?” Miranda laid her hand on his forearm. “Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

She watched him as he set the basket down, then reached up to pull off his hat. He stepped closer to the cliff edge of the path and squinted down at the town below. Miranda followed his gaze and, for the first time, realized just how small her home looked, nestled deep in the canyon. A wispy tendril of smoke lifted and coiled above the restaurant chimney. From the far end of the street came muted bits of piano music. The town was waking up again.