Three

A whoosh of air left Duel’s mouth.

What the hell kind of man would do this to a woman?

Such depth of savagery. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but imagine Jessie’s screams as the heated metal touched her skin. His stomach roiling, he hugged Marley Rose tighter.

“Gaga goo.” Marley wriggled, pulling on his bottom lip. Then the chubby fingers sneaked beneath his collarless shirt.

“Oh no you don’t, little darlin’.” With a painful tug he broke her hold and sat her on the bedroll. “For a little tadpole you sure know how to torture a man.”

The tiny girl puckered up to cry.

“Aw now, please don’t bawl.” He rifled through his saddlebags for the rag doll Mrs. Patrick had thrust on him. Marley greedily reached for it, sticking tufts of yarn doll hair in her mouth. “Play with that while I milk the goat. And stay where I put you. Hear?”

He lifted a well-used pail and glared at the nanny. “I’d rather kiss a rattler than do this.”

The goat bleated and eyed him with disdain when he untied the rope.

“All right, I hear you. But we’ve got a baby girl to feed.” The animal balked when he tried to direct her to a tree stump. “We can do this easy or I can break your ornery neck, you good-for-nothing varmint.”

Heavy breathing and a few choice expletives ended the scuffle, and Duel finally secured the nanny to a sturdy branch. Worn out, he plopped down on the stump and placed the pail strategically under the swollen udders. After several tries, he was able to get a thin stream of milk to land in the container.

“This ain’t so difficult. Mind over matter.” Movement from the vicinity of the bedroll captured his attention, and the next squirt landed across the toes of his boots.

“Marley Rose, play with your doll, honey. Stay on the… Don’t put that in your mouth!”

Panic brought him to his feet. She had something brown and gooey clutched in her hand, which was halfway to her mouth. The pail went flying as he scrambled. Round chocolate eyes stared innocently at him when he grabbed for the offending goo. He gagged at the smell. Horse manure.

“I swear, child. The good Lord didn’t give you much sense when he put you on this earth.” Keeping her hand outstretched, he lunged for the creek before he remembered Jessie was there, most likely bare as a newborn babe.

A quick detour took him to the basin of water he’d drawn earlier. By the time he managed to pry Marley’s fist open, she’d smeared the excrement up and down his shirtsleeve.

Ignoring her angry squalls, he washed her hands thoroughly. “Some things are just downright putrid, Marley Rose. That’s why I’m here, I suppose, to teach you the difference between vittles an’ horse shit.”

“Pa pa. Pa pa. Pa pa.”

Duel felt some of the tightness in his chest melt away under the brilliance of her smile. He mustn’t lend too much weight to the child’s babbling. Still, it sounded an awful lot like “papa.” His heart jerked painfully.

“No, darlin’, I’m not your papa. Don’t ever call me that.” He couldn’t allow anyone to refer to him that way.

He gave her an extra hug before he plopped her little bottom back on the pallet. Keeping one eye on her, he pulled off his shirt. He’d wash it later at the creek, but for now he’d have to go without.

Not trusting the child to stay put, and not knowing what to do with her, he bent to pick her up. Just at that moment something rammed him from behind and he went flying. Duel spat dirt. Rolling over, he found the goat calmly chewing above him. Gleeful giggles filled the morning air.

“Damn your hide, you mangy critter. For two cents I’d set you loose.” He gave Marley Rose a stern glare. “And you quit laughing, little lady. I think you’re in cahoots with that blasted nanny.”

Holding Marley firmly in one arm, he led the goat back to the tree and tied it with a triple knot. “There. See if you get loose from that.”

Wasted milk soaked into the soil, bringing a new frown to his brow. Aunt Bessie’s garter!

What gave him the notion he could raise this child? He must have gotten a snoot full of peyote. Couldn’t even handle one stupid goat. A string of curses followed as he righted the overturned pail and resumed his seat on the stump.

With Marley astride one knee, he soothed the animal with a few words of encouragement before wrapping a hand around a teat. Not enough hand motion. He shifted the child’s position and tried again. The white liquid went everywhere but the pail. Intent on his chore, he didn’t hear Jessie approach until she stood beside him.

Until that moment, he hadn’t given much thought to his bare torso. It had seemed as natural as breathing. Now, he became uncomfortably aware that he wore no shirt, and the urge to hide his nakedness with crossed arms was an overpowering one.

“My shirt…Marley Rose.” At the moment, he would have considered the unsavory piece of clothing a godsend. “It smelled. I had to take it off,” he finished lamely.

Without a word, Jessie raised the hem of her very damp skirt. What in blazes? He wasn’t sure he had the stomach for another brand.

Unsure of her intentions, he watched her rip a flounce from her petticoat. Using the torn fabric, she fashioned a sling, which she looped over his shoulder and under one arm.

Her hands brushed lightly against him as she arranged the contraption and tied it. Sweat dampened his chest hairs. Duel felt as if he’d chomped down on a handful of hot chili peppers.

When she reached for Marley Rose, he realized she had designed a crude papoose wrap such as an Indian woman might have used.

“Now, why didn’t I think of this?” Wonderment washed over him as Jessie settled the tiny girl on his back. “You seem to have a knack for little ones. Have any of your own?”

Jessie reacted as if he’d slapped her. He didn’t miss the wet mist that quickly filled her eyes or the way she kept pushing the mass of curls off her face, tucking them behind her ear.

“No.” Her voice was barely audible. She turned away as if ashamed. The sadness, clearly evident, made him regret the question.

“I’m worse than a tenderfoot in the child-rearing department.” He tried to ignore the smarting pain that shot through him when the tiny girl twisted her fingers in his thick hair and yanked. “I’m certain of one thing, though. Next time you rig this contraption, turn Marley Rose to face the other way. She deals out more misery than a bloodthirsty savage.”

Jessie’s back stiffened. She stared vacantly into the distance, lost in thought. Another place, another time. White knuckles clenched by her side told the depth of her anguish.

You stupid jackass, McClain! Someone beat the woman to within an inch of her life and you have to talk about bloodthirsty savages. Of all the dunderheaded things to do. No way to treat a lady. Show a little decency.

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to say anything uncalled for.”

Jessie turned, and he noticed the color of her eyes for the first time. The one that wasn’t swelled perfectly matched the flowers on his mother’s prized china. Lily McClain, God rest her soul, had declared them Wedgwood blue.

Did she have a husband? Was he responsible for her condition? Duel speculated on the possibility as he continued to direct the stream of milk into the pail.

“Don’t mean to pry, and if it’s none of my business, just say so. This man who’d be looking for you, is he your husband?” He shot her a cursory glance while he wrested both ears from Marley Rose’s steel grip. They were the latest part of his anatomy to capture the child’s fascination. Besides, he didn’t want anything to interfere with hearing Jessie’s answer.

Her chin quivered an instant before she forced her head high. “No. The ones who come want justice.”

For the second time since he’d met her he wanted to pull her against him and hold her safe. His throat clogged with a thick huskiness. “The only justice they’ll find if they come is a piece of hot lead.”

The goat lifted a back leg. Duel grabbed the half-full pail, dodging the kick aimed his way. “Oh, no you don’t.”

His boots crunched on the hard ground when he stood. Jessie seemed oblivious to him as he strode to retrieve the child’s bottle from the bedroll. The mysterious woman was once again lost somewhere inside herself. Lost and so alone.

“I’m taking Marley Rose home to Tranquility.” He tugged the nipple off the bottle. It released with a plop, and the smell of curdled milk reached his nose. “Phew. Girl, didn’t know you’d be so darn much trouble.”

Marley giggled excitedly, riding piggyback to the creek to rinse out the container. Jessie had moved to the campfire when he returned. The forlorn look etched shadows across her face as she stared into the flames.

“You’re welcome to join us if you’ve a mind. Lord knows I need help with this young’un.” Something wet ran down his back. He could hazard a pretty good guess what it was. This baby business was no bed of roses.

Luckily, he managed to fill the bottle after missing the opening only a few times. Pulling the rubber nipple over the top proved the biggest challenge. It appeared to have shrunk when he took it off, because he didn’t see any way in hell of getting it to fit.

“Let me.”

Jessie had crept up beside him again. The ghostly way she moved gave him the willies. Their hands touched when she took the two items, making her jerk back in alarm. Sheer terror contorted her features into a mask.

“You all right?” He’d never felt so helpless. What could a man say to ease the torment of a woman who’d suffered what she had? It would take more comforting words than he knew.

She didn’t reply, just ran her tongue cautiously across her bottom lip. Then, before he could blink, she melded nipple and bottle together, once again proving herself to be capable and efficient, important things in raising a child.

“Much obliged.” Duel accepted the fully assembled bottle.

Light fingertips brushed his bare skin when she lifted Marley Rose from her perch. He reasoned it was the heat of the sun’s rays that caused the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. Had to be.

He ducked his head, hoping she couldn’t read his thoughts. He must have lost every lick of sense he had. The last thing on earth he needed was a woman. And the way she recoiled from him clearly expressed her view of men.

Relieved of the babe, he dove into his saddlebags for the extra shirt he carried. Pulling it on, he could hardly button it fast enough. Covering his upper body made him feel a whole lot better. Not much he could do about his wet buckskins, though. The wind would have to dry them.

His growling stomach reminded him of the rabbits he’d killed. That blasted goat had taken too much time. Better get a move on or the sun would be overhead before he knew it.

“I could sure use your help, ma’am. That is, if you want to come along.” Now that he was fully clothed, he could glance at her directly.

Jessie had found a seat on the large rock he’d propped against during the night. She cradled Marley in her arms as if she was a precious treasure. The girl’s noisy sucking on the fresh goat milk blended with the animal’s protesting bleats.

The woman’s attention appeared to rest solely on Marley Rose. She caressed the dark curls. “What would you want in return?”

Given what she’d gone through, her suspicion was expected, right down to the stony grit in her tone.

“Only your kindness with the babe, nothing more.” When she swung her head in his direction, he matched her intent gaze with honesty. “Make you a deal. I swear on the McClain family Bible I’ll never lay a hand on you. I offer you safekeeping. When we get to Tranquility, I’ll see you get any place you want to go.”

“You promise?” Jessie’s voice broke.

Duel didn’t make deals lightly. “The word of a McClain has stood the test of war, famine, flood, and pestilence. I come from a long line of promise-makers. Heck, my grandfather once parted the Colorado River with his cane because he gave his word.”

That brought a hint of a smile to Jessie’s lips.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, mister.”

At that, Marley Rose raised her head and grinned as if to say she was relieved to have someone along with good horse sense.

“Drop the ‘mister.’ Name’s Duel.” He threw it out offhand, trying to sound nonchalant as he bent to the task of gutting and skinning the rabbits.

“Don’t think I can do that, Mr. McClain.” Her manner stiffened again, shattering the small headway he’d made.

“Suit yourself.” Duel lifted the cleaned rabbits by the feet and marched off to wash them in the creek.

After he speared them with sharpened sticks and propped them over the low fire, he led the horses to the water to drink. He didn’t remember his soiled shirt until he squatted on his heels to splash water on his face. He’d wash it before they broke camp.

A prideful woman, the mysterious Miss Jessie. Her refusal to call him by his name demonstrated her will to keep him at arm’s length. Gaining her trust would take a lot longer than what they had. One thing for certain, she’d be mighty upset if she knew he’d seen the brand on her shoulder.

He smoothed the long neck of Jessie’s sorrel. Now in the light of day, he sized up the pretty mare. Good horseflesh if he ever saw any. He ran his hand down each leg, checking for signs of lameness. Better to know now than a mile or two down the trail. Then he came to the flank, and his hand froze.

The animal carried a Diamond J brand—the same that marked Jessie.

Suddenly, bits and pieces of things he’d heard crashed together. The Diamond J ranch sprawled over fifty thousand acres down along the Rio Grande, or so the barkeep in the border town of El Paso had told him. Duel couldn’t recall who owned the spread. Damn! Too much rotgut and too many nights of forgetting.

Preacher nickered and roughly nudged his arm.

“Jealous of the sorrel, huh?” He chuckled and gave the mustang his undivided attention. “Or just reminding me you’re still around?”

Light footsteps sounded from behind, and he turned.

“Beautiful horse, Mr. McClain.” Jessie held up his shirt. “The babe fell asleep. I saw your shirt lying there. Thought I’d wash it for you.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“I’m offering. I want to repay you for sharing your campfire last night.” She knelt, dunked the shirt in the water, and began to scrub.

“You don’t owe me anything, ma’am.” It was a heck of a thing to see a woman touching his clothing so intimate-like.

“I intend to keep it that way.”