Chapter Nine
The deafening roar of a pistol exploding nearby had Jenny screaming. She braced herself for the excruciating pain she knew would follow as the bullet tore through her body. At close range, a shot to her chest would be fatal for certain. Will’s face flashed in her mind. With her dead, who would take care of him?
Raised male voices and the sound of a scuffle followed the shot. Splintering furniture, bodies thudding to the floor, and other women’s screams added to the chaos. Jenny opened her eyes a crack and peeked through her lashes. Her hands came up searching for a wound. She scanned her chest for blood, but didn’t see any, nor did she feel the burning pain she’d expected. Finding nothing, she said a silent prayer of thanks.
“Hey!” the man holding her yelled, his roar thunderous in her ear. Shoving Jenny aside, he dove on the back of the man straddling Bart and pummeling him with brutal blows, the whole time shouting, “Get off my brother.”
Off balance, she fell to the floor, landing with bruising force on one hip. Immediately she rolled away from the brawling men, scurrying out of the way of their flying fists and elbows. Two on one seemed unfair, but she wasn’t about to dive in the middle of the fray. Instead, like a coward, she crawled across the dusty floor on hands and knees until she found a safe place under a table by the back wall. Trembling, she curled her legs into her chest and waited, offering up another prayer, this time for her would-be rescuer.
Unable to drown out the awful sounds of flesh striking flesh, grunts of pain and once, the crunch of something that sounded like bones breaking, Jenny closed her eyes at a particularly harsh blow that spattered blood across the floor near her feet. This went on for several minutes until cheers rose up from the crowd. She dared to peek.
One man rose to his feet, towering over the other two lying prone on the floor. His dark head came into view as he bent and took the gun from an unconscious Bart, quickly searching Archie who writhed in pain beside his brother, blood spurting through the fingers he had clamped to his nose. That explained the crunch.
“Step aside,” a new voice called as a pair of boots attached to denim-clad legs stopped in front of where she was hiding. Jenny recognized the voice and sighed in relief. Thank God, the marshal had arrived. “Heath, what the hell?”
Heath? She looked at the other pair of boots beside the whining Archie, the owner of which also wore denim over long legs that went on forever, muscular thighs, and a wide leather belt with a polished silver buckle. That’s all she could see with the table blocking the rest. Leaning ever so slightly forward, she saw a red chambray shirt stretched snugly over a broad chest and bulging biceps. The bunching muscles strained the seams. That they didn’t pop as he moved was a testament to the seamstress’ skill with a needle. She swallowed. Still unable to see his face, she inched forward until the corded neck above an open collar came into view and beyond that the handsome face of the man who had consumed a large part of her thoughts in the past long difficult weeks. Now he had saved her life. Seeing deep brown eyes and that ever-present wave of dark hair falling down over his brow, her heart raced from something other than fear. She scooted back before he could see her. If he recognized her, or if the marshal did, she’d be mortified and her reputation would be in tatters.
“Aaron, about damn time you showed up. If I’m going to do your job for you, I expect you to be at the ranch more often to help with mine.”
“Cut the crap and tell me what the hell happened.”
“These two idiots were fighting over a woman.”
“What woman?”
There was a brief halt in their conversation, before Heath’s boots turned one way, paused, made a half circle and faced the other way.
“She was right here, a little redhead in a pink satin dress.”
Trying to make herself as small as possible, she hoped against hope he wouldn’t notice her hiding spot. As usual, she had no luck, because a chair was dragged away and the next second his dark head appeared between the table legs as he crouched down. Immediately, she lowered her eyes. With the wig and makeup, plus her risqué dress, which was nothing like a dress Jenny Harper would ever wear, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her.
“There you are,” he said softly as he held out a hand in invitation. “Come on out, darlin’. You’re safe now.”
Another dark head and a pair of near identical brown eyes appeared beside his as Aaron squatted, also peering in at her. Dang! She dipped her chin, shaking her head so more of the fake red hair would cover her face. She’d been at the marshal’s house for supper so often recently that he was bound to know her.
“Miss, I’m Marshal Jackson.” His voice was deep and smooth, just like his brother. He pitched it low, offering reassurance as if he were gentling a skittish mare. “This is my brother Heath. He’s telling you true. You’re safe. The men are being taken to my jail as we speak.”
She sighed with relief, not for what he said, but in how he said it, as if she were a stranger. Now if she could figure a way out of this mess. Both men wanted her to come out, but she didn’t dare leave her safe little hidey-hole. How would she explain a woman of her station, at least the one she was portraying, being so afraid of a bar fight? Neither of these men was stupid. It was only a matter of time before one of them figured out that something wasn’t quite right about the Red Eye’s bashful new piano player. Unable to think of a way to stay where she was without appearing suspicious, she nodded and slowly crawled toward them.
Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms as they helped her stand. She swayed a little from the sudden change in position, or maybe it was a delayed response to having a gun pointed at her and coming so close to death. Whatever the cause, Heath caught her before her legs gave out. “Easy now, are you dizzy? Do you need me to fetch Doc?”
Keeping her voice disguised, she answered in a husky tone, “No, thank you, sir, I got up too fast, I think.” She tried to ease away, but his grip was firm and he wouldn’t let her go.
“Why don’t you sit down and gather your wits? You’ve had a real scare.”
He found the nearest chair and guided her into it.
“I’ll get you some water,” Aaron suggested.
He was gone before she could protest. Heath crouched beside her. She could feel his eyes on her and averted her head, studying her hands or staring at the floor. She even glanced to the side after Aaron once, looking anywhere but at Heath.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m certain.” She kept her answers short, not willing to risk her voice sounding familiar.
“Then why won’t you look at me? Surely you’re not shy.”
She stiffened. He didn’t elaborate, but Jenny got the implication. He thought her a whore and a woman of that vocation was anything but shy. Wait, it was Mary he thought was the whore. Although, if he discovered Jenny was under the disguise, wouldn’t it be the same thing? She’d be forever a fallen woman in Heath’s eyes. Tears prickled behind her eyelids as she concentrated on her hands in her lap.
“I don’t feel well.”
“I imagine not, after what you’ve been through. You need Doc. I’ll send someone after him.”
Suddenly, Charlotte was at her side. “Mary! Good grief! I was so frightened for you. Are you all right?”
She let the relief wash over her, thanking the heavens above for giving her a lucky break for a change. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, they overflowed. She rose and quite literally threw herself into her rescuer’s arms.
Charlotte had been there the day she walked in to ask about the job. Jenny hadn’t expected to be welcomed and put at ease. Although a complete stranger, and in a very unsavory line of work, Jenny found herself spilling her sad story to Charlotte. She was the only one in the saloon who knew the truth of who she really was. She was behind the disguise, had given her the dress and the wig and shown her how to apply the makeup. Thank goodness she had. From her vantage point at the piano, Jenny had seen men she’d known from town and been shocked when they’d gone upstairs with the girls. These same men sat beside their wives in Sunday service. A layer of her innocence had been shed in only a few hours at the Red Eye.
That same disguise was invaluable now with Heath and Aaron near. As Charlotte clasped her close to her generous bosom, Jenny let her. It was the perfect way to hide and her new friend seemed to sense this.
“Poor dear,” she whispered as she stroked her hair. With her arms wrapping her up tight, she turned her toward the stairs. “Come upstairs, Mary, and we’ll get you fixed back up.” As if an afterthought, she addressed Heath, glancing over her shoulder. “Thank you for saving my girl, Mr. Jackson. I’ve got her from here.”
Another voice entered the chaos; however, this one didn’t speak, it bellowed, breaking through the noise of the boisterous crowd and prompting another silence to settle over the packed saloon. “What in tarnation is going on down here?”
Charlotte turned and Jenny, who was adhered to her side, had no choice but to do so as well. As they faced the stairs, they saw Fenton Sneed, the Red Eye’s owner stomping down each tread, hitching up and buttoning his trousers as he went.
An answering bellow, not as booming, but impressively loud, burst from Charlotte. “Mary almost got killed while you were upstairs dabbin’ it up with Scarlett, you bastard.” Jenny flinched as her ear, mere inches from Charlotte’s mouth, rang uncomfortably. She wasn’t finished and took a step closer, dragging Jenny along as she moved. As the other woman continued angrily, just shy of a shout, Jenny had the presence of mind to cover her ear with her hand thereby preserving what was left of her hearing. “You’re supposed to see to the protection of the girls, not diddle your way through each and every one of them.”
“Don’t give me lip, woman. You’re in charge of the doves, but you ain’t in charge of me.” At the foot of the stairs, he stopped, put his hands on his hips, and raised his voice more, which before that moment seemed impossible. “George! Get your sorry ass in here.”
From the kitchen, George emerged holding a pie plate. “Yeah, boss?”
“You dumber-than-shit, good-for-nothin’ jackass. I’m paying you to protect my business, not stuff your fat face. One more fuckin’ stunt like this and you’re fired.” His eyes cut to Jenny. “And you. I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you. You’re done here. Get the hell out.”
“Fenton,” Charlotte cried in her defense. “It wasn’t her fault these two morons couldn’t keep their jack-rods in their britches. You’ve got no reason to see her sacked.”
“If it’s not her fault, it’s yours, goddammit. You talked me into this harebrained idea.” Faced off with Charlotte, his cheeks ruddy with anger, he stabbed his broad finger at Jenny. “Look at her. I knew better than to hire a piano player with red hair and big tits, and not expect every man that walked in here to want to fuck her. She flashes those big green eyes and gives them virginal looks. How’s a man supposed to resist?”
Jenny was horrified as every man in the room turned to stare at her; well, more specifically at her womanly parts. Thanks to Fenton Sneed, they leered at her hungrily like she was a ham in the butcher shop window down the street. She had to go, now.
“Charlotte,” she began, but her whisper was drowned out by Fenton as he continued his rant.
“She’s a cock tease is what she is. She probably had Archie and Bart drooling over her tits and haggling over the price. What do I get for all my trouble? Nothing! ’Cause she’s not in one of my rooms on her back when she spreads. Forget it. I’m gettin’ nothing for my troubles; she’s gone.”
“But, hon,” Charlotte cajoled, trying soft and beseeching. “Who’ll play the piano? How do you operate a saloon without a piano player?”
His face relaxed a little as he focused on Charlotte. Jenny was amazed as she watched the woman wheedle and smile at the scary owner. She’d called him hon.
“Fine. She can stay until I find a replacement—a male replacement. Until then, you are in charge of keeping her out of trouble. I’ll have no more brawling over the bitch.”
“Sure, hon. I’ll see to it. C’mon, Mary, let’s get you cleaned up.” Charlotte guided her to the stairs, pushing her up them ahead of her.
Jenny avoided Fenton’s angry stare as she slipped by him. She felt other eyes burning into her back, but the ones she worried about most were deep caramel brown, fringed with long dark lashes and belonged to Heath Jackson. Near the top of the steps, she couldn’t keep from peeking. With a sidelong glance, she swept the floor and sure enough, he stood watching, his arms folded across his broad chest, the marshal in the exact same pose next to him. The resemblance was uncanny; if she didn’t know that he was four years Aaron’s senior, she would have thought they were twins.
Not watching where she was going, her toe clipped the edge of a step as she got to the top. She fell headlong, seeing the boards coming at her face fast. Her hands flew out to catch herself, but fate intervened yet again as a set of strong hands caught her, curling around her arms.
“Whoa there, lil’ filly.” Hauling her upright, he didn’t release her until she was steady. “All set now?”
She nodded. Without looking up, she knew her rescuer was Luke Jackson. It was as if someone up in heaven was conspiring against her. “Mama,” she whispered in awe. Will was right; she’d hate the wig and the awful dress. She’d also hate that her sweet baby girl, as she always called her, had degraded herself and sunk to this level.
“Pardon, little red?” he asked, with a surprised chuckle.
“Nothing,” she said, wildly shaking her head at her lapse. What kind of saloon girl called for her mama?
“Hiya, Luke,” Charlotte cut in from behind her. “Little Mary here has had a fright. Thanks for saving her from taking a facer on the floor.” Charlotte grabbed Jenny’s hand and tugged her past him on down the hall. “C’mon, Mary, even I need a drink after all this excitement.”
* * *
“Of all the people I expected to find in a saloon fight, you were the last one, big brother.”
Luke walked up at the tail of Aaron’s comment. “What? I missed a fight?”
In amazement, Heath gaped at him. “Didn’t you hear the cursing, the women screaming, and the gunshot?”
“Nope. I was otherwise occupied with the charming Suzette. She said I made her toes curl up with pleasure.”
Snorting in amusement, Heath got in a little dig. “That’s all the curling you had time for. You were gone for under fifteen minutes.”
“I always heard you were a quick draw, old man,” Aaron said, tongue in cheek. “Now I know for sure.”
Luke scowled at them both. “I’ve never heard no complaints.”
“That’s because you’re paying ‘em, brother. Take it from me,” the newlywed Aaron advised, “find yourself a good woman and take your time. It will save you money and having a warm, soft armful to cuddle up with at night is its own reward.”
“I don’t need love advice from you, runt.”
Aaron, who was used to the slur although he was bigger than both of his older brothers, shrugged in response. “Your loss, Luke.”
Dismissing him, Luke considered Heath. “What made you jump in the middle of a brawl? Aaron’s right, it’s not like you at all.”
“It was hardly a brawl. The Parsons twins were drunk, acting like jackasses and harassing one of the women. The others were too lazy to do anything but watch and the woman needed help.”
“So you stepped in to save her, how gallant.” Luke’s smile was broad as he clapped Heath on the back. “Was she pretty?”
“You tell me. You just had your hands on her.”
He glanced to the top of the stairs as if expecting to see the woman still there. “The little redhead? I can only vouch for her pretty figure, which was obvious in that dress. I didn’t see her face.”
“She seemed rather shy,” Heath said thoughtfully.
Luke snorted. “A shy whore? Now that’s a rarity,”
“What makes you think she’s a whore?” Aaron asked. “I thought she was the piano player.”
“Now who’s being naïve, little brother?” Luke smirked. “It’s unlikely we’ll find a virgin or church-going girl in the Red Eye.”
“I’ve learned not to take anything for granted, but you’re probably right in this case. A church-going girl, can you imagine?” Aaron chuckled. “If you two are done causing trouble, come on home with me. Janelle is making fried chicken—chicken fingers, she called them—with some kind of mustard sauce.”
“She’s such a city girl,” Luke said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen a finger on a chicken. Is this one of her special future recipes?”
Aaron glanced around to see if anyone heard before answering. “Yep, from some place she called KFC. She also made a chocolate cake which she said was ‘da bomb,’ whatever that means.”
“I’m in,” Luke agreed.
“Heath?” Aaron prompted.
“Yeah, count me in too.” As he followed his brothers to the door, something Luke had said was bothering him.
He’d never seen a shy dove at the Red Eye, but Heath was sure he’d seen a blush on little red’s face when Sneed had ranted so crudely. He hadn’t questioned it, thinking it was a flush from all the excitement, but now that he thought of it, she’d burned crimson when he’d called her a cock tease. What kind of saloon girl blushed at salty language? Granted, Sneed’s was saltier than most, but it struck him as odd. He glanced once more at the top of the stairs before he walked out.
“You sure you didn’t take a punch to the head, Heath? You’re quiet.” Aaron made his observation at the hitching rail, as they mounted up.
“I’m fine.” He gingerly touched his jaw. “Archie got in a lucky punch, but it was a love pat compared to what I endured from you two growing up.” Heath hadn’t been expecting Archie to join in the row, especially after Bart had held him at gunpoint. He should have known that brothers stick together. No matter how angry Luke and Aaron got, he could always count on them to stand by him.
“If you’re off your feed, I’ll eat your cake, big brother. Janelle’s a fine cook. You’re a lucky dog, Aaron.”
“It didn’t start out that way. Did I ever tell you about the lead biscuits she made or the first pot of coffee?” Aaron asked as they trotted down Sixth Street toward the east end of town. “Worst cup of Arbuckle’s I’ve ever choked down and the biscuits were like doorstops. She was upset with me in the beginning, if you’ll recall. Anyway, I was concerned—for only a split second, mind you—that she was trying to kill me.”
“Death by biscuits? Sweet Janelle?” Luke shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Yeah, she’s sweet, but you’ve seen her temper. It turned out it was her first go-round with the stove and a coffeepot. She was used to something called a microwave oven and an automatic drip. Ma came by and gave her a few lessons and she’s taken to it like a duck to water.”
“No more grounds in your coffee?” Heath asked.
“Oh, ho… This was more than grounds. Like a stick in the mud, my spoon stood up straight in that sludge,” Aaron chuckled, shaking his head at the memory.
Luke and Health looked at him and grinned. Their new little sister had definitely loosened up their often too-serious little brother. Good for her, Heath thought, as they kicked their horses into a gallop. As he rode with chocolate cake and coffee on his mind, the saloon’s piano player was shuffled to a corner of his brain, forgotten—for a spell.