Anora's Pride Read online

  He recalled Ricki's words. If Rosco was smarter than Jesse gave him credit for, he was too smart to hole up anyplace that only had one way in. Or out. Jesse snapped a branch from the scrubby evergreen behind him and slowly retraced his steps, taking pains to brush away all evidence of his recent passing.

  Halfway down the hill he turned onto a different trail that took him up and over the hillside's natural contours to a spot over the top of the cave opening.

  It was slow going. The snow's surface had crusted over in some spots and started to sog up in others. He never knew if his next step would slip or sink. Jesse judged he had a couple hours of daylight left and didn't cotton to the thought of spending the night out here. Not with Rosco nearly close enough to touch.

  His instincts held him in good stead. The sloping hillside, which from a distance appeared to form a solid rock roof above the cave, was in actual fact a junction of two slopes that missed each other by about a foot and a half and left a hole big enough for a man to crawl in or out of the cave.

  Jesse eased himself close enough for a look inside. Yes, indeedy. The cave's interior was gloomy and dark, but enough light seeped through the entrance to show him that Rosco had made himself right comfortable. Jesse spied a mattress of sorts, with a bedroll atop it. A stash of supplies and ammo leaned up against one wall.

  He couldn't help but think about his pa and his two brothers, who'd met their end in a similar situation. How had Anora known his kin were wanted men? Small-town talk, he guessed, for like Rosco they'd been holed up in a cave in the hills. A posse tracked them down after they had robbed a bank. He knew his kin weren't above killing in a bid for freedom, but that particular day, they'd all three got taken down together. Jesse didn't like to think about it. He believed in justice, not vengeance, and he'd fought his whole life not to be like them, not to end his days the way they had.

  Anora picked listlessly at the tray of food Lettie placed across her lap. Her friend had been kindness itself, opening her home and her heart to care for Anora, and normally she suffered in good grace the older woman's cheerful chatter as she plumped pillows and straightened the coverlet.

  Today, however, was different. Lettie sat opposite her in silence. As she pleated the folds of her skirt between her fingers, her eyes didn't quite meet Anora's.

  “Today's the day the doc said I could get up.”

  Lettie nodded, her mind clearly elsewhere.

  “It'll feel good to be back home. Have my own bed and things around me.”

  That caught Lettie's attention. “You sure that's a good idea, sweetcheeks? The place will more than likely be chock full of bad memories.”

  “I have to face them sooner or later.”

  “Why not at least wait till Jesse comes back?”

  “He's not coming back,” Anora said.

  Lettie paled. “What do you mean, not coming back?” She jumped up and started to fiddle about the room. Anora watched her straighten an already straight picture. Rip an imaginary thread from the hem of the drapes.

  “Is he?” she asked pointedly.

  Lettie glanced her way and wrung her hands.

  “Sam said not to say anything. That it'd only upset you, there being nothing you can do and all.”

  “What did Sam think would upset me?”

  Lettie drew a deep breath, then spoke in a rush.

  “Sully showed up at the livery. Took three of the hands to calm him down enough to take off his saddle.”

  “Jesse loved that horse.”

  “Don't you dare speak of your husband in the past tense,” Lettie said sharply.

  “We both know if Sully's not with Jesse, it's because Jesse's dead.”

  “You don't know that for a fact.”

  “If, by some miracle, he's not dead, he might as well be,” Anora said. “He won't be coming back this way, anyway.”

  Lettie patted Anora's hand absently. “We'll all pray for Jesse's safe return.”

  Anora gave her friend a dark look. “Where Jesse's gone, it's too late for prayers.”

  As Jesse studied what little he could make out of the cave's interior, trying to gauge its full size and dimensions, he heard movement from below. He held his breath and waited for what seemed an eternity. He'd started to think his imagination was playing tricks on him when suddenly Rosco appeared directly beneath him. It was now or never.

  Resisting the urge to let loose with a war whoop, Jesse propelled himself, feet first, through the opening. His aim was bang on. He dropped right on top of the outlaw.

  Together they landed heavily, sprawled across the cold dirt floor. Before Rosco could pull his firearm, Jesse had him pinned. He straddled the outlaw's chest and slammed his rifle barrel across his throat. Leaning his weight on the gun, he pressed, hard enough to see Rosco's eyes widen, not hard enough to crush his windpipe. Not yet.

  “ ‘Scuse me for dropping in this way,” Jesse drawled. “But then, surely you were expecting me. What's the matter? Didn't have time enough to roll out the welcome mat?”

  Rosco blinked furiously and tried to swallow.

  Jesse leaned on the gun a little harder. “Big mistake, Rosco. You ought to have killed me while you had the chance. The same way you killed my baby. And all those others. You never gave one of them a chance to defend themselves.”

  A gurgling sound issued from Rosco's throat as he attempted to talk. Jesse eased up a bit. Enough to hear Rosco's painful whisper. “You murdered my brother.”

  “Your brother was a clumsy fool who my sister loved in spite of that fact. I gave Cameron a chance to do the right thing. More chance than the boy deserved.” His voice wavered. A flood of red anger temporarily blinded him. “More chance than you gave my wife and daughter.”

  While Jesse fought to control the surge of emotions ripping through him, Rosco started to laugh. A maniacal laughter that chilled Jesse to the marrow of his bones. Instinctively he darted a glance over his shoulder. What had he missed?

  The laughter turned into a rattling cough and Jesse stared in horror at the bloodstained mucus and spittle Rosco produced. His suspicions sharpened. Was this a trap? A trick to have him let down his guard?

  “Get off me,” Rosco managed to say. “Leave me die in peace.”

  Jesse eased back a hair, rifle at the ready. Eyes watchful.

  “Why else do you think I led you here? Shot you down out of that trap?”

  “Surely not just so I could have the privilege of watching you draw your last breath?”

  “Enjoy it, boy. The same way I'm going to enjoy drawing my last breath, knowing I got you dead to rights.”

  Jesse shifted. This wasn't going at all according to plans. “Take another look, Rosco. Who's got who?”

  “I fixed you good,” Rosco chortled. “Little surprise to remember old Rosco by.”

  The outlaw linked his fingers together across his chest and closed his eyes. Warily Jesse got to his feet. When Rosco didn't move, he backed away a step, and studied his surroundings, eyes watchful, ears tuned for Rosco's slightest movement.

  “What sort of surprise?”

  When the outlaw didn't answer, Jesse kicked him with the toe of his boot. “Out with it, Rosco. What's my surprise?”

  The other man's head lolled limply to the side.

  “Won't work, Rosco. I'm not dumb enough to fall for your possum act.” Still no response. “Doesn't matter,” Jesse said. “You can't stay like that all night.”

  But Jesse was wrong. Rosco never did move. And when he finally edged back closer, Jesse was disgusted to learn he'd spent the last hour guarding a corpse. He stared in disbelief at the dead outlaw. How had Rosco pulled that off? To up and die like that, saving Jesse the trouble of killing him?

  He'd set out after Rosco with killing in his blood. Now he'd never know for certain if he was made of the same stuff as his kin or if he'd succeeded in walking his own walk. One good thing, at least. Rosco would never prey on innocent folk again.

  The outlaw's horse was tethere
d just outside the cave, and Jesse tossed the dead man across the saddle. Only one sure way to let Boulder Springs folks know for a certainty that Rosco's days of plaguing them were over. Just as he finished, he saw Sully slinking toward him, looking ashamed for having run off.

  “ ‘Bout time you showed up.” Jesse gave his mount an affection pat on the neck as he gathered the reins and mounted up. As they started back, Jesse was greeted by the most glorious sunset he had ever witnessed. Slowly he felt himself refill with the well-spring of life, to emerge transformed. Reborn. Arms raised heavenward, Jesse paid homage to the incredible feelings that surged through him. The sky was awash with color, raggedy streaks of crimson and orange, the brightness backlit with a purplish hue that slowly intensified to the deepest, darkest blue he'd ever seen. He wished Anora were here to see it. To share what was happening to him.

  He felt the blood pumping through his veins, a celebration of life, a victory unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Despite the bruised and battered state of his body, he felt more at peace, more alive, than any man had a right to. He reveled in each and every raw sensation coming at him from all directions. The smell of evergreen boughs, heavy with melting snow. The crunch of snow beneath his booted feet. The renewed beating of his own heart, overflowing with contentment and inner peace. A rightness to his life that took away his breath.

  It lasted for what could have been mere minutes, yet felt like an entire lifetime as he drank in the essence of life all around him. Then he turned and started west.

  They only got off track twice in the night, mostly because of the rain, which washed away the snow and made everything appear different. By the time they finally reached Boulder Springs, it was morning and he was wet, cold, hungry, and more tired than he'd ever been in his entire life.

  Jesse hesitated just outside of town. While his heart urged him in the direction of the Three Boulders, to Anora, his head steered him differently. Acknowledged that she had healing of her own to do. Hell, she might not even care about the transformation that had taken place in him. The new man he'd become.

  After delivering Rosco's body to the morgue, he headed instead for Ricki's, knowing his old friend would find him a bath and a bed. Time enough tomorrow, once he was rested and cleaned up, to figure out the best way to make things right between Anora and him.

  He rode down Main Street toward Ricki's as if seeing the town for the first time. The street was a river of mud, but the boardwalks were swept and clean. Nice enough little town. Not the sort of place he ever thought he'd land in permanently or anything. Still, if Anora was fixed to stay...

  He reined in his thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself. He hadn't a clue what Anora was fixing to do. Besides, whatever they did had to be something the two of them decided together, once the time was right. The road to Ricki's took him directly past the burial park, where a small gathering of black-clad mourners clustered together on the soggy knoll, silhouetted against the sky.

  Who'd died? As he drew closer, he recognized Ricki, Lettie and Sam, Penny. Not until he spotted Anora standing apart from the others, alongside the smallest casket he'd ever seen, did realization sink in. He'd arrived home in time for his daughter's burial.

  Pain slammed through his limbs as he dismounted and watched Charlie and Sam lower the miniature coffin into the inhospitable earth. The winter air rang with the thuds of frozen clods of dirt hitting the box. His child! He choked back a sob as he made his way to the graveside. Folks gave him a funny, sideways look and sort of melted into the background as he passed. No one spoke. He could have been a ghost. Maybe he had died, just hadn't left this earth. He could see everyone and nobody saw him. Nope. He was too bone-weary to be dead, yet not too exhausted to feel Anora's pain as he joined her before the final resting place of their child, dug before the ground froze.

  Jesse removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Words eluded him. He sneaked a sideways glance at Anora. The look of her pierced through to his core, that haunted look of a creature in unbearable agony, waiting only for someone to come along and put her out of her misery. He'd seen that look on a calf caught in a barbed-wire fence. And a coyote with his hindquarters shot nearly clean off, dragging himself by his front legs. He'd never expected to see it on the face of his wife.

  “I thought you were dead,” Anora said finally, no expression in her voice. She could have been discussing the weather. “We all did. ‘Specially after Sully showed up without you.”

  What were you expecting, Quantrill, after the way you ran out on her? A hero's welcome? Some indication that she's glad to see you alive and in one piece? Why should she be glad to see you at all?

  Jesse fastened his gaze on the simple wooden cross at the head of the grave, and he wondered who'd carved the marker. Etched out the name and the date. “You named her Sarah.” His voice didn't sound like his own. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That's a pretty name.”

  “I named her after my mother. Someone else who died before her time.”

  Jesse clenched his jaw so tight it hurt. He prayed for the wisdom to say the right thing. If the right thing even existed. He turned his head and forced himself to meet her gaze. Her eyes were as blank as her voice.

  “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you with the arrangements.”

  She nodded stiffly, her lips pinched tight together.

  Jesse drew a deep breath. “I know you think I ran out on you, at the time when you needed me most. It was something I just had to do.”

  “Always is.” Anora's gaze moved past him to the bleak winter landscape, and Jesse knew she was remembering her pa and Ben. Never around when she had a need of them. How could he convince her he was any different? Not just from the other men in her life, but different from the man he'd been three short days ago. Changed on the inside.

  He opened his mouth to tell her as much, but no words came out. He tried again. “I have so much to tell you. I don't rightly know where to start.”

  “Don't bother,” Anora said, turning away. “I'm through listening.”

  “Anora, wait. You don't mean that. You can't mean that.”

  She paused and gave him a glance that chilled him to the depths of his soul. Her eyes held the hollow emptiness of someone who had given up all faith. All belief. All hope. He'd done that to her. “I never meant anything more. Good-bye, Jesse.”

  As he watched her walk away, head high, spine rigid, Jesse knew he wasn't the only one who'd changed.

  He turned to his deputies. “I brought back Rosco's body.”

  Eddy and Charlie exchanged uncomfortable looks. “He's dead then?” Charlie asked.

  “Yeah,” Jesse said shortly. “Didn't even get the privilege of doing him in myself.”

  “How'd he die?”

  “Just up and died, far as I could tell. Why?”

  Charlie and Eddy continued to exchange uncomfortable looks. This time Eddy broke the silence. “Sorry ‘bout this, Jesse. But Charlie and I got our orders. We have to bring you in.”

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  * * *

  Chapter 22

  “Bring me in? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Charlie spat a plug of tobacco onto the ground.

  “Man showed up day before last. Name of Rosco Senior. Been in a huddle with the magistrate.”

  “What about?”

  “Claims there's a warrant for your arrest for killing his son.”

  “Which one?” Jesse asked.

  “How many you kill?” Eddy asked. His eyes were wide. He was enjoying this, Jesse thought.

  Jesse held out his hands. “You want to cuff me?”

  “I don't see as where that's necessary,” Charlie said. “Y'all will come peaceable. Right?”

  “Wouldn't have it any other way.” As they made their way past the recently deceased Rosco, Jesse spoke up. “Tell Rosco Senior I've delivered him another son to bury.”

  It took a couple of days to verify that the warrant was a
forgery, but things got complicated from there. Rosco Sr. started hollering how Jesse had killed his oldest boy, too. Denied him the right to a fair trial. And the doc couldn't rightly determine just how, exactly, the outlaw had died.

  Jesse was too wrung out to much care what happened next. Anora hated him, and some in the town were set to brand him a murderer. He knew he ought to start planning to defend himself against Rosco Sr.'s accusations, but right now he was just too weary to bother. He collapsed on the bunk in one of the cells and wondered if he'd ever feel like getting up.

  Rumors abounded in the town. Jesse was under arrest for killing Rosco Jr. No, he wasn't, someone else said. He'd volunteered to stay in jail till things were cleared up once and for all.

  Anora's limbs felt leaden as she paused outside the marshal's office, took a deep breath, and opened the door. She told herself she wasn't afraid to face Jesse. That he couldn't possibly hurt her any more than he already had. Still, the sight of him on the other side of the bars proved more wrenching than she'd thought it would.

  He lay on the bunk with his eyes closed. The same bunk where they'd almost made love the night of the dance. Her pulse leapt at the memory. At first Jesse acted as if he didn't know she was there, but after she cleared her throat for the third time he opened one eye. Even in the dim light she could tell he looked weary, as if he hadn't slept much. She told herself his lack of sleep was none of her concern.

  “What brings you this way? I thought you weren't speaking to me ever again.”

  “I've come to tell you that I'm applying for an annulment.”

  Jesse's lips twisted humorlessly. “An annulment? On what grounds?”

  She blushed. Glanced at her shoes. “You know.”

  Jesse rolled to his feet, crossed the cell, and brought his face to a level with hers. “I know we didn't have much of a marriage, you and I. One thing I sure as hell remember is that we consummated it. Or are you suffering a sudden convenient loss of memory of the times we made love?”