Johanna Lindsey - Brave the Wild Wind

“You like to spread yourself around?” she said nastily.

“You could say that.” He grinned. “But only because I’ve never found a woman I could bear staying around for any length of time. Once they think they have you hooked, the romance is over and the pettiness begins, the nagging, the jealousy. That’s the time to move on.”

“Are you trying to tell me all women are like that?” Jessie asked quietly.

“Of course not. There are all kinds back East, but you have to understand that certain, well, types come west: those already married, their daughters looking to get married, and women who pretend they’re not interested until they’re asked.”

“This latter group of women includes saloon and dancehall girls, I take it?”

“They are the most fun,” he said, knowing he was in dangerous territory.

“Whores, in other words?”

“Now I wouldn’t call them that,” he said indignantly.

“Is that how you met Rachel?” she sneered.

He frowned, annoyed. “Obviously no one’s told you, so I might as well. Rachel was alone, starving, and obviously pregnant when my stepfather Jonathan Ewing brought her home.”

“Your stepfather?”

“That surprises you?”

Jessie was a good deal more than surprised. She had thought Ewing was Billy’s father, but obviously Will Phengle was. Did Billy know that? And then it came to her that Rachel was thirty-four now. Ten years ago, at twenty-four, she would have been a lot older than Chase. So they probably hadn’t had an affair.

“Where was your mother?” Jessie asked.

“She had died not long before.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said flatly.

There was obviously bitterness there, but Jessie didn’t want to know about it. She had enough bitterness of her own.

“So your stepfather married Rachel, even with her carrying another man’s child?”

“Because of that child,” Chase replied curtly. Good heavens, Jessie thought, what was going on? “The bastard waited to marry her till after she’d given birth to a son. I’ve no doubt he would have kicked her out if the baby had been a girl.”

Jessie gasped. “Another man just like Thomas Blair! And I thought he was one of a kind.”

“Well, there was a reason. Your father could have children. Jonathan Ewing couldn’t. He was a rich man and wanted a son to take over his small empire. It was the only reason he married my mother. He didn’t love her, he just wanted me. And she didn’t care about anything except his wealth. Well, I cared all right. I hated his guts.” He was silent, then went ahead.

“I was old enough to understand his motives, old enough to resent his high-handedness. He thought wealth could buy him anything. I wasn’t willing to accept him, because I already had a father somewhere.

So Ewing and I had a long, drawn-out battle. It never ended. Rachel made it easier, though, in the last year I was there. She was kind. She cared about me, and she was a good buffer between us. She helped me then. Do you see now why I want to return the favor?”

Jessie was silent. His childhood had been awful, fighting a father, losing a mother. But his earlier confession showed him to be a philandering bastard nonetheless.

“You don’t really know Rachel,” Jessie said.

“I think I know her better—” He stopped, staring into the distance behind her. “Someone seems awfully curious about us.”

“What?”

“One of your friendly Indians, no doubt.”

Jessie swung around quickly and followed his gaze. An Indian sat on a spotted pony a good distance away. He just sat there, staring toward them. Was it White Thunder? No, he would have come forward to greet her. Jessie got up and rummaged through her saddlebags, got her field glasses, and turned them on the Indian.

She lowered her glasses after a moment and said, “Now why would he be here, do you suppose?”

“A reservation Indian?” Chase asked.

She glanced at him and shook her head. “All Indians are reservation Indians to you, aren’t they? God, but you’re a hardhead. I tried to explain to you... Oh, what’s the difference!”

Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying we’re in danger?”

“I’m in no danger, but I don’t know about you,” she replied cruelly. “Look,” he said impatiently, “will you explain?”

“That’s a Sioux warrior out there. They don’t leave their territory unless it’s for a good reason, and they don’t sit and watch you without a reason, either.”

“You think there might be more of them?”

Jessie shook her head. “I don’t think so. When I met Little Hawk last week, he was alone.”

“You met him last week?” Chase echoed.

She turned away to put her field glasses back, delighted by the confusion she was causing him. “He shared my food and camp one night. He wasn’t very friendly about it. He was quite arrogant, in fact. But that’s often their way.” And then she grinned at Chase. “Actually, he did want to be friendly with me in one sense, but I said no.”

Chase managed to conceal his disbelief. “So he wanted you? I suppose that’s why he’s here now.”

Jessie looked at him sharply, but his expression revealed none of what he was thinking. “I can’t imagine what he’s doing out there, but I’m not conceited enough to think he would come looking for me.”

“Well, just in case he did, why don’t we show him you’re not available?”

Before she caught on, Chase pulled her into his arms, and his mouth came down on hers. The contact was as jolting as being knocked off a horse. She was stunned, leaning back against his arms, letting herself succumb to the pressure of his lips. But even as she came to her senses, she didn’t move. She liked the feel and taste of him, the heady sensation overcoming her. She’d certainly never been kissed like that before, and she realized it was because he knew what he was doing.

Why, it was experience, of course! Chase knew women very well, she reminded herself. Even as Jessie became indignant, however, she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away.

But they had both forgotten Little Hawk. Chase released Jessie as soon as he heard the horse galloping toward them. In a second, the Indian was leaping off his horse. Chase didn’t even have time to raise his hands in defense before Little Hawk, flying through the air, caught him at the throat and threw him to the ground.

Jessie stared, wide-eyed. She had never seen such a graceful leap from a galloping horse. But why wasn’t Chase getting up to fight? He wasn’t moving. Little Hawk pulled out his knife.

“No!” she shouted at him. “Little Hawk!”

She ran forward, getting there just as he reached Chase, and stepped between them. She and Little Hawk stared at each other for several moments. Finally he put his knife away and looked down at Chase. He spoke angrily, then fired rapid signs at her.

She was confused, interpreting as best she could. “You want to know what he is to me? But I don’t see—”

She stopped, remembering that he couldn’t understand her. “Maybe you’re just crazy,” she muttered. “I can’t explain... He means nothing to me.”

“Then why did you kiss him?”

Jessie gasped. “Why, you bastard!” she cried. “You knew English all the time. You let me rack my brains to try to remember sign language, so— Oh! When I think how frightened I was, and all you had to do was tell—”

“You talk too much, woman,” Little Hawk grunted. “Tell me why you kissed this man.”

“I didn’t. He did the kissing, and he did it so you would go away; There was no other reason for it, since he doesn’t like me and I can’t stand him. And why the hell am I explaining this to you? Why did you attack him?”

“Did you want his attention?”

“No, but—”

Little Hawk didn’t stay to listen, but went to his horse. He mounted and came back, sitting looking down at her.

“White Thunder has returned to his winter camp,” he said casually.

“So you do know him?”

“I have made his acquaintance since I met you. He tells me you have no man, only your father.”

“My father recently died.”

“Then you have no one?”

“I need no one,” she answered, exasperated.

Little Hawk smiled, surprising her yet again. “We will meet again, Looks Like Woman.”

“Damn!” she swore, turning back to Chase as Little Hawk rode away. He was lying still but breathing normally. She examined his head for damage and found a thick lump. She went to the creek, filled her hat with water, and threw the water in his face.

He came up sputtering and groaning, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did that sonofabitch attack me?” Chase asked, feeling his head. He winced as he found the tender bump.

“He could have killed you,” Jessie said harshly. “You’re not much of a fighter.”

He frowned. “What are you so riled about? Did you have to shoot him?”

“No, I didn’t have to shoot him. And I wouldn’t trade his life for yours, anyway.”

Her venom stung him. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

“Does it show?”

She moved away to saddle her horse. He was okay. She didn’t have to tend to him anymore.

With care for every movement, Chase went to his own horse to saddle up. “Why did he attack me? Do you know?” he asked.

“Figure it out for yourself, tenderfoot.”

“Damn it!” he swore. “Is it too much to ask for a little kindness from you? I’m the one who got hurt, you know.”

“And do you know why?” Jessie sneered. “Because of your showing off, that’s why.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re so angry? Because I kissed you?”

She didn’t answer. She silently mounted and rode off, leaving him to follow if he could. Chase climbed into the saddle, his head throbbing. He wasn’t sure anymore why he had kissed her, but it had been a stupid thing to do. He would make sure he was never tempted to do it again, ever.

TROUBLE began soon after they rode into Cheyenne. They left their horses at the livery stable, and Jessie went on to the hotel to get a room. She hadn’t told Chase her plans, so he was obliged to follow her, wondering what she had in mind. They were barely speaking. Jessie told him where he could find a doctor if he thought it was necessary, and then she continued to ignore him. Her set features and angry stride told him she didn’t want his company, and he knew damned well that if he asked about her plans she would tell him it was none of his business.

At the hotel, Jessie signed the register, and then Chase started to do the same. But before he could even finish, the book was suddenly snatched out of his hands.

“It’s just like he said, Charlie,” the man next to Chase called over his shoulder, chuckling. “There’s a K in front of her name.”

“Do you mind, friend?” Chase said angrily.

“Oh, sure thing, mister.” The man shoved the register back in front of Chase. He grinned. “Just wanted to check something.”

As he walked away, Chase glanced at Jessie’s name. Yes, there was a K in front of it. He then turned around to see that her path to the front door had been blocked by a squat, barrel-chested fellow. The lanky man who had just left Chase came up behind Jessie and slipped her gun out of her holster before she could stop him.

Chase waited for her reaction. It would be nice to see her let loose her terrible temper on someone else for a change.

But Jessie was just standing there, her back stiff, her hands on her hips, glaring.

“So Laton wasn’t joshin‘.” Charlie laughed. “He said the name on the deed was Kenneth Jesse Blair. But I said no, old Blair must have a son somewhere. That’s who he’s left his ranch to. Couldn’t be no girl named Kenneth. Didn’t I say that, Clee?”

“Your exact words,” the lanky Clee agreed, nodding.

“But Laton was right as usual,” Charlie went on. “We got us a bona fide Kenneth here. Don’t she look just like a Kenneth?”

“Britches and all,” Clee agreed again, snickering.

“You’ve had your fun, mister, and I’ve had enough of you,” Jessie said in a low voice, looking at Clee. “I’ll take my gun back now.”

“Will you?” Clee grinned. “What for, unless you’re man enough to use it. Are you man enough?”

The men laughed, delighted at the jest. Jessie didn’t think twice before she threw a punch at Clee’s mouth. Her gun dropped out of his hand, and Charlie’s face mottled with rage. He kicked her gun out of reach and grabbed her arms.

Chase had seen enough.