Chasing Rainbows (9 page)

Jake studied her for a long moment in silence. Then a small, cocky grin touched his lips. “Connors was cheating,” he finally said.

She blinked. “What?”

“He was cheating the whole time — and doing a hell of a poor job of it too. He dealt me three queens from the bottom of the deck. I picked up the fourth on the draw.”

Annie’s eyes widened in a flash of understanding. That was why Connors had been so sure he would win — and so furious when he didn’t. His hand had been rigged to beat three queens, not four. Picking up the fourth had been pure luck on Jake’s part — or perhaps some sleight of hand that had been his own doing.

In any case, Jake had known what Connors had been up to all along. He had played the part of the tinhorn rube so smoothly he’d even convinced her — just as he had doubtlessly convinced the other players at the table. That accomplished, he had waited until he was absolutely certain he could beat whatever Connors was holding, and then he had bet it all. It was that simple.

“Not bad, mister.”

Jake shrugged. “Let’s get some sleep.”

He continued down the alley and pulled back the broad livery door. Annie peered cautiously into the darkness, adjusting her eyes to the light of the interior. Only a few faint traces of moonlight seeped in through the cracks in the broad plank walls. Two horses were inside, dozing in their stalls. They lifted their heads toward Jake and Annie, snorted their displeasure at having been awakened, then went back to their naps. As the small individual stalls were thick with the stench of manure, Jake moved to the pile of fresh straw that sat in the center of the room. He kicked it a bit to flatten it out into a bed, then plopped down and stretched out.

Annie hesitated, then did the same, making her bed a few feet away from his. The straw was a bit scratchy, but at least it was warm. All things considered, their situation had considerably improved in the past few hours. Their bellies were full and they had money in their pockets and a roof over their heads. Things could have been worse.

She lay in silence for a while, listening to Jake breathe. Above her, through the holes in the roof, a few stars glimmered in an otherwise ebony sky. “You ever think about really making something out of yourself, mister?” she asked. “Not just spending your life traveling from saloon to saloon?”

“Nope.”

“You’re tired, ain’t you?”

“It’s late, Annie.”

“You know how I can tell? You sound more Southern. It comes out every now and then. Especially when you drink, or when you’re tired.”

“Does the accent bother you?”

“No. Why, should it?”

“It bothers some folks around here.”

“Hmmm.” Annie thought for a moment, staring up at the barn rafters. “Well, you might not want to change your life, mister, but I’m gonna change mine You just wait and see. I ain’t planning on being Outlaw Annie forever. Once I get my hotel running, I’m gonna be the grandest lady west of the Mississippi. That’ll show everybody.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yep. I’m gonna turn my whole life around. Near as I can tell, there’s just one thing it takes to make it in this world, and I’ve got it.”

“What’s that?”

“Pluck.”

“Pluck?”

“Pluck. That may be all the good Lord gave me, but at least He gave me plenty of it.”

“And just what exactly is pluck?” Although she couldn’t see his face, his voice sounded distinctly amused.

Choosing to overlook his flippant tone, she answered, “You can’t define it, it just is. Some call it grit, others call it sand. But I reckon it amounts to the same thing, man or woman. It means that nobody can ever knock you down, no matter what. It means never giving up, never backing down.”

She heard Jake rustling in the straw. “You know what I really wish you had, darlin’?”

“What?”

“Sense enough to go to sleep.”

She ignored that. Her mind was racing ahead, too full of thoughts that needed sorting out for her to be still. “You as good with your gun as you look?”

Jake sighed. “I’m still on the right side of the ground, ain’t I?”

“Then why didn’t you kill that fella?”

“You think I should have?”

“He had it coming, that’s for sure.”

“We’ve all got it coming.” In the shadowy darkness, a hint of melancholy crept into Jake’s voice. “Each and every one of us. And sooner or later, we’re all gonna get it. That’s about the only thing that’s certain in this whole damned world.” He pulled his hat down low over his face. “Now go to sleep. We’ll be tracking those bandits bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Annie awoke to the feel of coarse, scratchy straw tickling her nose. She sat up and gazed about her in bleary-eyed confusion, feeling as though she had just closed her eyes minutes earlier. Her memory of the night before flooded back as she saw Jake, attired in black woolen pants, a gray flannel shirt, and a full-length oilskin coat — along with his hat and boots — standing a few feet away. A cartridge belt hung low in his hips and two .38s filled the holsters.

He glanced in her direction. “Good, you’re awake. Your clothes are by your feet.”

She glanced down at a small, neat pile of clothing sitting in the straw. Flipping through the stack of garments, she discovered a pair of navy wool pants, a red and navy checked flannel shirt, a set of thick cotton long-johns, sturdy socks, a honey-colored leather jacket that had been lined with lambs wool, and a matching pair of riding gloves. Everything was similar to what Jake wore, but scaled down to her size.

He frowned as he watched her. “Something wrong?” he asked, sounding slightly impatient. “I know they’re not very feminine, but I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

She shook her head, overlooking the insult. “These are fine, mister, real fine.”

“Then, why does your face look like that?”

Annie had no idea what her face looked like. She did know what she felt, however, although she doubted she could put it into words. Growing up, she had worn Pete’s old cast-offs while doing her chores around the house. For church, she’d worn cut-down versions of Mrs. Mundy’s old gowns. When she had ridden with the boys, she had worn whatever throw-outs she could get her hands on and stitch back together.

She reverently touched the clothing and said simply, “I ain’t never worn brand-new, store-bought clothes before.” Despite her attempts to rein in her emotions, her voice held all the wonder and awe of a child unwrapping a shiny toy on Christmas morning. “Ain’t they something? There isn’t a hole anywhere in sight, and they’re so clean they’re almost shiny.”

Embarrassed at the way she was carrying on over clothing that the fancy-pants gambler would no doubt consider mediocre at best, she quit speaking and looked away, wishing she could bury herself under the straw.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said after a minute.

Annie forced her eyes up to meet his gaze. If he did think her a bumbling simpleton, she couldn’t tell. A strange silvery light had entered his eyes, but she couldn’t begin to know how to interpret it. The man had his poker face on once again, and his expression was unfathomable.

“They’re fine, mister,” she said sincerely. “Real fine.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave you to change, then. There’s a bucket of fresh water in the corner if you want to wash up. We’ve got a four-hour ride ahead of us. Meet me at the cafe and we’ll get something to eat before we head out.”

They breakfasted on eggs that had been scrambled up spicy with peppers and onions, thick slices of salted ham, and fresh biscuits drenched in butter and honey. The coffee was hot, and the cook kept it flowing. Annie scooped out a portion of the eggs and set them on a small dish on the boardwalk for Cat to enjoy, then went back to her meal. Neither she nor Jake had much to say to each other, but she was too busy eating for the silence to bother her. She had eaten better during the few days she’d been with Jake Moran than she had in months.

She learned that Jake had made arrangements with the bartender earlier that morning to buy one of the livery horses, an ancient sorrel gelding named Sawdust, and a worn-out saddle. As he hadn’t had enough money to buy two horses, they made the journey riding double. Annie had elected to ride in front of Jake on the saddle, with Cat curled up in her lap, rather than sit behind him. Accustomed as she was to riding, a four-hour journey was still a lot of wear and tear on the rear if one spent it bouncing up and down on a horse’s rump.

A few miles out, however, she wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake. Jake rode confidently, with the reins low and loose in his hands. But that didn’t prevent his arms from closing in around her, wrapping her in his heady scent. Nor did it prevent her thighs from occasionally brushing up against his, her back from falling against his chest, or his chin from lightly grazing the top of her head. Annie stiffened her spine and sat up straight, determined to prevent any further contact. But it seemed the stiffer she held herself, the more inclined the horse was to veer into a rut or a gully and knock her against him once again.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” she finally demanded as Sawdust broke from a trot into a gallop and knocked her into Jake’s arms.

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice dripping innocence.

“Knocking me around like that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He veered sharply left, causing her breast and shoulder to brush softly against his arm.

“Very funny, mister.”

Jake’s low, masculine rumble of laughter filled her ears. His breath fell warm and spicy on her neck. He adjusted the pressure of his thighs, dropping the gelding back into a smooth, even trot. “Relax, Annie. I won’t do it again.”

Annie grit her teeth and ignored him, hanging on to the saddle horn with all her might. At least she had her clothes on. Had she made the journey in nothing but that beaten-up saddle blanket she had worn yesterday, the constant teasing contact would have been unbearable.

As she thought about it, a slight frown touched her lips. While the gambler’s little game had been vaguely annoying, he hadn’t truly frightened her. Jake Moran had been touching her and teasing her, but she hadn’t been terrified. For the first time in years, a man had brushed his body against hers and Annie’s gut reaction had not been one of pure, blind panic. She had been uneasy, yes. Terrified, no. Astonished at the discovery, she almost wished Jake would veer off course again just so she could examine her reaction to him more closely.

He was true to his word, however, and Annie spent the remainder of their journey relatively unjostled. Eventually the canyons loomed up ahead of them. She scanned the horizon, her gaze caught by the movement of a dark shadow against the red earth of the canyon. Directly behind the shadow, a thin plume of gray smoke drifted up through the brilliant midday sky.

Jake reined the gelding to a stop. “Looks like we found our men.”

She peered intently at the canyon wall. “Maybe, maybe not. I reckon we better go find out.”

Despite the steadiness of her words, a shimmering excitement that was part fear and part challenge fired her belly. Jake urged Sawdust on, bringing him to a stop at the base of the canyon wall. There the sound of coarse laughter and rough male voices echoed out to meet them.

They dismounted. Jake left the reins loose, not bothering to hitch the animal to a tree. Annie didn’t need him to explain the action to her. She and Jake would either come out alive with their own horses and gear, in which case they wouldn’t need the worn-out gelding, or they wouldn’t come out at all. In either case, Sawdust was old enough and smart enough to find his way home on his own.

Crouched down low, they listened for a moment in silence, judging the voices. Three, perhaps four men, sounding drunk enough to be loud and careless but not drunk enough to pass out anytime soon. Wordlessly Jake gestured toward a rocky path that led partway up the canyon wall. Annie nodded. Tucking Cat into the crook of her arm, she scurried effortlessly up the narrow crevice, halting in a natural alcove created by two boulders. The vantage point gave them a unobstructed view of the camp below.

Three rough-looking men sat hunched around a meager fire. Two Colt revolvers, one hunting rifle, and a pistol lay scattered near their feet. A whiskey bottle passed between them. Their badly soiled clothing, matted hair, and crusted beards spoke of years of harsh living and suggested a distinct aversion to regular baths.

A nervous whinny sent Annie’s attention to the left of the camp, where she saw a primitively constructed corral. Five horses stood inside, Dulcie and Weed among them. She mulled the odds over in her mind. Three heavily armed, somewhat drunken, and probably desperate men, versus her and Jake. Not the best situation, but she’d faced worse and come out all right, and she reckoned Jake had as well. “I say we sneak in like this—” she began, but Jake immediately cut her off.

“I go in alone,” he said, his voice low and unyielding.

His attempt at chivalry was lost on her. She barely spared him a glance, her gaze focused intently on the men below. “Like hell you will. Don’t be an idiot.”

“I mean it, Annie. Stay out of my way.”

That got her attention. Her brows snapped together as her head swung around to face him. “Listen here, mister,” she whispered harshly, “I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. That’s what cost us our horses and gear in the first place, remember? So let’s talk plain. If we’re gonna dress pretty and wager on cards, we’ll do it your way. If we’re gonna break up a gang of low-down, thieving outlaws, we do it my way. You got that?”

She could see Jake struggling to hold on to his patience. He shot a sharp glance down below, but the men continued on as before, apparently unaware of the heated argument carried on in fierce whispers in the canyon above them. “We don’t have time for this,” he snapped. “You just stay out of it, you hear me?”

She brought up her chin. “You just try and keep me out of it. Now, are you gonna give me one of those guns you’re carrying or ain’t you?”

“Dammit, Annie, there are only three of them. I’ll handle it.”