Part 43 (1/2)

CHAPTER FORTY.

The Damsel in Distress Later on, we came to a shallow creek that crossed the trail. Even though we still had some daylight left and could've gone on, it usually doesn't hurt to camp by water. I'd had no trouble yet with running low. It was dry country, though. If we moved on, no telling when we might run into another place with good water.

Other folks were likely to have the same notion. I didn't want company, and figured Jesse felt that way, too, so we followed the creek north till we were a good distance from the trail.

We found a fine spot that had high piles of rock on two sides, and even a few scrawny trees. They'd give us shade till the sun went down, and block out some of the wind that usually stirred up cold at night.

As I unsaddled General, Jesse said, ”You just stay here and don't you dare come looking for me. I'm going upstream for a spell.”

She wandered off. I stayed where I was, finished removing all my gear from General, set down the sack of oats for him, and groomed him while he ate. When I got done, Jesse still wasn't back yet. I let General wander down to the creek, but didn't follow him.

The reason Jesse had warned me off, I judged, was so she'd have privacy for bathing. It stirred me up some, thinking about that. I took a notion to climb the rocks and spy on her. It seemed like a lowdown thing to do, though. Besides, she might catch me at it and get riled.

So I hauled my saddle into the shade under a tree and leaned back against it to make myself comfortable. A soft breeze was blowing. I closed my eyes and listened to the birds. It was uncommon peaceful and nice. I might've drifted off to sleep except that my mind wouldn't let go of Jesse.

I kept remembering how she'd looked when we were fighting, her s.h.i.+rt open as she threw punches at me. And how she'd looked later, sprawled on the ground. She might be in the creek right now without a st.i.tch on. It was almost more than a body could stand.

I pictured how she might look, all bare and wet. Quite a bit slimmer than Sarah, not near as curvy, more like a boy. I wondered what her b.r.e.a.s.t.s might feel like. They weren't near as large as Sarah's. They'd looked like they might be hard, but then I recalled how they'd jiggled some while she swung at me. So they couldn't be terribly hard. Likely not as soft as Sarah's, though.

I recalled my first night in Sarah's bed, and how she'd cured me of being put off by b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Then I was thinking about the other fine times I'd had with Sarah. There'd been the dancing and the baths and all those other times we'd ended up having at each other. But there'd been the rest of it, too. Trips into town, horse rides and picnics, and the pure pleasure of just being with her-talking or reading, doing ch.o.r.es or sharing meals.

Pretty soon, I was missing her something terrible.

If only I hadn't seen that story about Whittle in the newspaper, we might still be at the house.

That set me to thinking about our railroad trip, and I got angry remembering Briggs. If that no-account hadn't thrown me off the train, we'd be together yet.

But he had thrown me off.

And I'd joined up with the gang.

It seemed likely that I would never see Sarah again. No telling where she might've gone to, by now. Maybe she'd traveled on to California with Briggs. I sure hoped not. But if she was fool enough to get pulled in by the likes of him, she deserved no better.

It made me feel ornery, thinking that way about her. I told myself she was too good for him, too smart for him. What she'd probably done was turn around and gone home to Coney Island. I hoped so.

That way, I would be able to find her again after I'd finished my business with Whittle.

Except I won't, I thought.

Till now, I hadn't given it much real thought. But I'd known, way in the back of my mind, that me and Sarah were finished. It finished between us the night I shot down those posse men.

After that, I was no longer fit for her.

Sarah and even Mother herself were good women. I was no better than a murderer. Best for all concerned if I never saw either one of them again.

I judged they'd be better off without me, anyway, on account of how they'd likely end up killed.

The same went for Jesse. But I was stuck with her.

I recalled how she'd put her arms around me there on the trail after we'd left the German behind. It seemed clear she was growing rather fond of me. I couldn't deny that I'd gotten fond of her, too.

She was full of gumption and her sa.s.sy ways appealed to me. Even if she'd been an ugly thing, I would've enjoyed her company. But she was awful pretty. Too pretty.

If I didn't watch out, I might find myself purely infatuated with her. That wouldn't do, at all.

I won't allow it, I told myself.

I'll only take her as far as the next town.

I won't spy on her. I won't touch her. I won't even think about her being a girl.

She's just someone who needs a ride.

My job's keeping her alive long enough to leave her behind.

After making up my mind about that, I felt somewhat better about the situation. I felt pretty near gallant. Jesse was a damsel in distress, me a knight determined not to lose my heart to her and only to fulfill my mission of delivering her to a safe haven.

With that settled, I figured it might be time to rouse my bones and start a fire. So I opened my eyes, and there was Jesse watching me. She sat nearby in a patch of sunlight, barefoot, arms resting across her upraised knees. Her ankles were wet. Water dripped off the cuffs of her dungarees. Her blue s.h.i.+rt was damp and clinging to her. It wasn't tucked in, but she'd used her belt to hold it shut around her waist. Her face glistened with specks of water. Her short hair wasn't fluffy any more, but lay against her head in thick, golden loops. A few of those hung across her brow. Two on the sides curled down in front of her ears and came to points.

In short, she looked wet and fresh and altogether splendid. She looked so fine it put a lump into my throat.

I could see it wouldn't be an easy task to keep my wits and not take a powerful liking to her.

The gleam in her green eyes and how she smiled didn't help at all.

Sitting up, I said, ”You could get yourself shot, you know, sneaking about in such a manner.”

”Bunk.u.m,” she said.

”There was a lawman I heard about, he ventilated his best friend when the bloke walked up behind him unannounced. It happens all the time, actually.”

”This must be my lucky day.”

”I'm quite serious.”

”Well, next time I find you sleeping, I'll be sure and pelt you with a stone.”

”I wasn't asleep.”

”Then you should've heard me coming. Ears no better than that, it's a wonder you've lasted.” A drop of water slid off one of her curls. It trickled down her eyebrow, so she wiped it away with the back of her hand. ”So then, you were playing possum.”

”Not at all,” I protested.

She narrowed her eyes. ”You were up in them rocks having a gander at me. Saw me coming back, so you scampered on down and let on like you'd spent your time dozing.”

A blush heated my face.

”Ah-ha!” She didn't seem angry, but pleased with herself for finding me out.