«I’m not all that gentle, ma’am. But thank you. You stay close to your husband. Real close. This town has an ugly feel to it right now. Reminds me of Singapore, which is to say it reminds this sinner of Hell.»
Rafetipped his hat again and withdrew to the end of the store where harness was displayed. He reached for a long, coiled bullwhip. With smooth, almost invisible motions of his left wrist, he tested the whip’s balance and flexibility. Twenty-five feet of supple leather writhed as though alive beneath his skilled hand.
With a sigh at having lost a pleasant companion, Jessica turned away. She gave a longing glance to the Levis and shirt that Wolfe had discarded, but made no effort to retrieve them. She was still shocked by the primitive masculine possessiveness he had shown. She wanted to tell Wolfe that he needn’t be jealous ofRafe; she would rather have a single kind look from Wolfe than a week of kindness from Rafael Moran.
On the other hand, a bit of kindness from a stranger was better than no kindness at all.
Jessica went back to the dry-goods counter, found that Wolfe had paid for the purchases, and waited for the lanky teenage boy to gather up all the packages. The task would have gone more quickly if he had been able to keep his eyes on what he was doing rather than on the single tendril of mahogany hair that had slid out from beneath Jessica’s hat. The silky, subtle fire of the curl fascinated the boy, as did her light foreign accent and softly curving lips.
«Is everything all right?» Jessica asked finally.
Caught staring, the boy blushed to the roots of his badly cut hair. «Sorry, ma’am. I’ve never seen anything like you outside of the fairy tale books Ma used to read to me.»
«That’s very sweet of you,» Jessica said, hiding her smile. The boy’s transparent approval was like a balm after Wolfe’s constant anger. «Here. Let me get the door. You have far too many packages.»
Jessica opened the door, caught a package that was teetering on the edge of falling, and gathered her skirts above her ankles to avoid the mud and manure of the street. She looked both ways, having narrowly avoided disaster earlier when a rider had gone racing through the streets at a dead gallop, whooping and swinging an empty whiskey bottle overhead like a sword in one hand while firing a six-shooter with the other. The performance would have been more impressive if the pony hadn’t stopped suddenly, sending the rider head over heels into the muck.
«Careful, ma’am,» the boy said. «The town has gotten real lively since word of gold came out.»
«Gold?»
«Somewhere up in those mountains. San Juan country.»
«That’s where we’re going.»
«Thought so.»
«Why?»
«Your husband paid in raw gold,» the boy said simply. «Bought horses at the stable with gold, too. Word went through here like wildfire.»
When they were closer to the wagon, the boy looked hesitantly at Jessica. «Tell your husband to be careful, ma’am. Gold brings out the lowest kind of devil in men. From what I’ve heard, WolfeLonetree is a bad man in a fight, but he’s only one man. I’d hate to see a delicate girl like you come to grief.»
Jessica looked at the boy’s pale brown eyes and saw that he was older in many ways than she had thought from his awkwardness around her. She suspected that frontier living cut short the innocence of childhood. The boy was at least six years younger than she was, but he had an adult’s understanding of the harshness of life.
«Thank you,» she said softly. «Wolfe will —»
«Well, what do we have here?» asked a rough voice, cutting across Jessica’s reassurances. «Mighty fine clothes for a town like this. Mighty pretty gal, too. Come here, sugarplum. Old Ralph wants a good look at you.»
Jessica ignored the man who was standing at the rear of the wagon, wearing a split riding coat, muddy clothes and a wide leer.
«Put the packages in the back of the wagon, please,» she said to the boy.
While she spoke, she climbed into the wagon seat. Beneath the cover of her flowing skirts, her hand closed around the buggy whip.
«Ma’am,» the boy said. His face was pale, his voice urgent.
«Thank you. You may go back to the store now.»
Jessica smiled reassuringly, wanting only to remove the boy from the reach of the men who were gathering around the wagon.
«Please go. My husband will be along soon. Perhaps you could see what’s keeping him?»
«Yes, ma’am!»
Ralph’s hand shot out, but the boy twisted aside, evading capture. He sprinted for the stable, sending clots of mud flying with each step.
Jessica’s fingers tightened on the stock of the whip. She sat quietly, looking at the horizon, acting as though she were alone. The comments of the men gathering around the wagon told her she wasn’t alone, but they weren’t saying anything she chose to overhear.
A heavy, dirty hand grabbed a fold of her hem.
«By God, I haven’t felt anything this soft since Atlanta. Bet it’s even softer underneath.»
Several men laughed. The sound was as coarse as the muddy street.
The few townspeople brave enough to walk past Main Street’s raucous saloon saw what was happening, but hesitated to interfere. The eight men around the wagon were heavily armed and drunk enough to be ugly without being incapacitated in the least. They made a formidable gang.
Nor was Jessica known to the townspeople as other than the wife of ahalfbreed. It wasn’t a high personal recommendation in the raw frontier town, where Indians were thought to be worth a lot less than a good coon hound.
«A sawbuck says she’s wearing silk underwear,» called one of the men.
Ralph’s hand tightened on Jessica’s skirt. «Well, sugarplum, is you is or is youain’t?»
That witticism sent one man laughing until he could barely stand without the help of the wagon.
«Come on,» Ralph said. «Show a little leg to the lads.»
Jessica ignored him.
«Look at me when I talk to you,» he snarled. «Any slut that lies down with ahalfbreed should be damn grateful that a white man will even touch her.»
When Jessica felt her skirt shift, she wrenched the wagon whip free and brought its heavy stock down across the bridge of Ralph’s nose with all the force of her small body. Bellowing with rage and pain, Ralph let go of the skirt and grabbed his face. Blood spurted between his fingers. Before Jessica could turn to face the rest of her attackers, Ralph grabbed her wrist, pulling her off balance.
There was a sound like a pistol shot, followed by a high scream. The grip on her arm loosened. From the corner of her eye, Jessica sawRafe running toward her, wielding the supple bullwhip with lethal skill. As she watched, his left arm moved slightly and the long bullwhip leaped forward. The odd, pistol-like sound came again. Close to her, one of the attacker’s hats seemed to leap up and fell away in two pieces. Blood poured from a gash over the man’s eye.
Suddenly, the men were reaching beneath their coats.
«They have guns!» Jessica yelled.
She brought the buggy whip down as hard as she could on the closest man, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. There were five men left untouched, four more were running from the saloon, and they were all armed.
«Get down!» Rafe yelled.
Jessica ignored him, for she was too busy laying about with the buggy whip.
Rafe’sbullwhip sang out again, but this time it wrapped very gently around Jessica’s waist. The yankRafe gave wasn’t gentle at all. It pulled her right out of the wagon and into his arms as gunfire erupted around them. Pressed between the side of the wagon andRafe’s big body, Jessica saw little of the fight.
What she did see astonished her. Wolfe was down the street in front of the stable, two hundred yards away, and he was picking off men just as fast as he could lever bullets into the firing chamber. Lead whined and crashed around the wagon. The withering hail of bullets sent the men scattering.
All that prevented every one of the attackers from being killed was the fact that Jessica was in the middle of the fracas.
