The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 13

  "Just love my kid sister, is all," he said.

  She stepped away from him, searching his sad eyes, and wishing with everything in her that he could find the happiness he so richly deserved. Someday, maybe… "I love you, too," she told him. "Thanks, Ben."

  He nodded, and reached for his hat. "Gotta go," he said, and headed out the door. Same as he'd done every Sunday since he came back from his year of solitude in the hills of Tennessee. He spent Sunday mornings at the cemetery where his young wife was buried. It was enough to make a grown woman bawl like a newborn calf.

  Wes rose, breaking into her thoughts. "I'm headed out, too. Be back in time for chores tonight." He didn't offer any explanations, just left.

  "Now what is he up to?" Garrett asked.

  Chelsea tilted her head. "I know, but if you tell him I found out, I'll wring your neck." She sat back and sipped her coffee. "He's been spending time out near the Comanche reservation where he was born."

  "Really?" Jessi was surprised. She'd never known Wes to show any inkling at all toward getting in touch with his roots on his mother's side. Hell, he'd lived here on the ranch since he was seven. Maria Brand had treated him as if he were her own child, and never once let him feel an outcast just because he was the product of her husband's infidelity.

  Chelsea nodded and slipped a hand over Garrett's. "Don't be upset by this. I've said all along that Wes has something missing inside him, and you know as well as I do he needs to do this."

  Garrett nodded. "I'm not upset, darlin'. Just amazed at how right you always manage to be." He leaned over and kissed her. "C'mon, Elliot. Looks like it's you and me riding the fencelines this morning."

  Elliot wolfed down another sausage patty on his way out the door, slamming his hat on with his free hand. "Fine by me," he said around the food. "I can practice roping a few head."

  Garrett shook his head in mock exasperation, with just a hint of indulgence, and the two left. Minutes later, Jessi heard the gentle slapping of hooves as they rode away. She started clearing the table, with Pedro rubbing around her calves in a shameless effort to extract more scraps.

  "So what's really been wrong with you these past few days?" Chelsea asked.

  Jessi drew a breath. She'd known this was coming. But she wasn't going to tell Chelsea about the very slim chance she might be pregnant, because it was so very unlikely that there was no sense in worrying her. "I don't know," she said, instead. "I guess Lash just isn't the man I thought he was."

  "Disappointed you, did he?"

  Jess nodded.

  "I know how that goes. Hell, I'll never forget your big lug of a brother trying to romance me just to keep me from leaving here and putting myself in danger. When I found out, I was sure that everything he was pretending to feel for me was only a part of his act. Of course, at the time, he thought so, too."

  Jessi tilted her head. "Is there supposed to be some lesson in this tale for me?"

  "Yeah," Chelsea said. "Men can be pretty stupid when it comes to matters of the heart, Jess. They can tell themselves all sorts of things, make up all kinds of excuses for the feelings they just don't understand. But in the end, they figure it out." She frowned. "Sometimes it takes clubbing them over the head, though."

  Jessi laughed out loud for the first time in days. Clubbing Lash over the head held a wonderful appeal to her right now.

  Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the screen door, and to Jessi's surprise, Ol' Blue got up from his nap under the kitchen table, faced the door and growled.

  On the other side of the door, a bulky man with beady little black button eyes and a bit of a paunch around his middle peered at them. "This the Brand ranch?"

  "Sure is," Jessi replied, moving to the door, but not opening it. She didn't want Blue to up and bite the stranger. "Can I help you with something?"

  "I sure hope so." He smiled broadly. "Name's Zane, ma'am. I'm Lash Monroe's brother … well, foster brother, anyway."

  Lash's foster brother? Jessi returned the smile and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door on the still-snarling hound dog and taking the beefy hand the man offered. "Well, I'll be. Lash never mentioned you. I'm Jessi Brand, Lash's … friend." She stumbled a little over the last word, then gave her head a shake and motioned the man to take a seat on the porch swing. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee, iced tea?"

  "No, no, I'm fine, but thank you kindly. I was hoping to find Lash. Been a long time, you know."

  No, she didn't know. "Sorry, but he's not here today. He's in town, probably at the sheriff's office. You can check there. Or … I could call him and tell him you're here."

  "Naw, no need to bother him if he's busy. You say he's with the sheriff? That Lash. He always was one to get himself in trouble. I should have known he'd be in hot water."

  Jessi blinked and, despite her anger at Lash, felt her hackles rise just a little. "Lash isn't in any trouble, Mr. … uh … Zane. He's working as a deputy." Had her chin lifted just a little as she said that? "He's helping my brother Garrett—Garrett's the sheriff here—to solve a rash of cattle rustling in the area."

  "Well, I'll be! Lash is a lawman? Imagine that."

  "Doesn't seem so hard to imagine to me," she muttered.

  The man chuckled. "Well, you didn't know him when I did. Close as two peas in a pod, we were. I adored the little runt. Damn, I'm sorry I missed him, but I just found out he was in town, and I couldn't resist the urge to stop by and find out what he's been doin' with himself. Heard he was working here on the ranch."

  "Well, yes, he does that, too."

  "Busy fella," Zane said. He stretched his arms along the back of the porch swing while gazing out at the horizon. "This looks like a mighty big spread. You run many cattle?"

  "A thousand head," she said proudly.

  "Well, now, I musta missed all those cattle driving in. I seen only a dozen or so heifers out in the pasture." He pointed. "Sure is a beautiful ranch, though."

  He was a friendly, talkative sort, Jessi decided. And hell, so long as he was Lash's brother, she figured she ought to be friendly.

  "A thousand head," he said, sighing and shaking his head in wonder. "Now that is one sight I'd give just about anything to see. Always wanted a ranch, myself. Maybe someday…"

  "Do you ride, Zane?" she asked impulsively.

  He smiled brightly, and gave her a nod.

  It was a nice long chat they had as they rode side by side at a comfortable walk, and Jessi showed Zane around the ranch. He was so very polite, and genuinely interested in everything about the ranch, and her brothers, and her clinic. He seemed to hang on her every word, asking lots of questions, wanting to know everything about his brother's life of late. Jessi wondered why Lash had never mentioned him before.

  When they finally said goodbye at the front porch, Jessi found herself inviting Zane back to visit anytime. She wished later that he'd talked more about himself and his childhood with Lash. Maybe she could have learned more about Zane's pigheaded foster brother that way. Ah, well, she thought, waving to the stranger as he drove away, maybe next time he visited he'd volunteer more.

  He'd asked her to dinner. Flattering, but not a very attractive offer. She'd eased out of it with a noncommittal reply. But maybe if she accepted, she could get him to talk about Lash. Maybe she could figure out just why it was he was so damned hung up on freedom, and roaming, and so deathly against being tied down by anything or anyone.

  Maybe she ought to go ahead and have that dinner with Zane. She'd think on it. It irked her to realize, that despite her claims to the contrary, she still hadn't given up on her hopelessly thickheaded drifter.

  Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Lash leaned over the polished hardwood bar, nursing a beer and a headache brought on by thinking too much. He couldn't figure Jessi out, and he'd decided it was high time he quit trying. She didn't want him. Fine. He'd just consider it a narrow escape and get on with his life.
The best thing to do, the way he figured it, was to avoid her as best he could until he and Garrett wrapped up this investigation, and then get the hell outta Dodge.

  Unfortunately, all of those things were easier to decide, than to actually do. He still wanted her. Every time he saw that girl, he ached with wanting her. The memory of that one time he'd been with her haunted him. Bits of it, feelings, sensations, hearing her heartfelt declaration of love, in a voice rough and loud with passion, the way she'd touched him, the way it had felt to be inside her—all of it—drifted through his dreams at night, and kept his mind so stirred up by day that he couldn't think about anything else.

  The longer he stayed away from her, the more he missed her. And yet, he avoided her. Because he didn't understand any of this. And to tell the truth, it scared him.

  Garrett had told him Jessi was spending Sunday at the ranch when Lash stopped in that morning. He'd run into Garrett out near the pasture, saddling up to ride the fencelines, so he'd decided to avoid the house. He'd helped with the various tasks that needed doing around the place, and then he'd headed back into town, never once venturing near the house, where he might run into her. He didn't want a repeat of the other night being played out in front of her family. Vases sailing at his head might make them start asking questions.

  Jessi had spent today at the clinic. Yeah, okay, he'd been keeping track of her. Avoiding her like the plague but for some reason unable to stop watching her without her knowing it. He was behaving like some crazed stalker, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he had this morbid need to look at her all the time. It only made him crave her touch all the more.

  God, he couldn't believe how very badly he wanted to kiss her again!

  Lash had seen the contractors packing up their gear, and most of them had left by noon today, with one or two men remaining to finish up with details. And then, early tonight, there had been a van backed up to the door with the name of a veterinary supply company painted on the side.

  The garage no longer resembled a garage. The overhead door was gone, replaced by a wide front window. The smaller door served as the main entrance. Lash was dying to see the inside of the place, but didn't figure that would be a very good idea. But he had managed to come up with excuses to drive by often enough to keep tabs on its progress. And on Jessi.

  He couldn't help but be worried about her. In fact, his concern for her was on his mind almost as much as his desire for her. He knew something was bothering her, something besides the fact that she'd decided he was the scum of the earth, that is. He'd thought it was a broken heart, but if it wasn't that, then it must be something else. And he was still—vainly, perhaps—convinced that whatever it was, it was his fault. The idea that he might have nothing to do with her odd mood bothered him too much even to consider.

  He took another sip from the foamy mug, and nearly choked on the brew when a voice from the past drifted over the jukebox's country twang and the clink of glasses. "Well, well, if it isn't my kid brother."

  Very carefully, Lash set the beer down, centering it in the damp ring it had left on the hardwood. He turned, telling himself that his worst nightmare from childhood hadn't just caught up with him. But it had. Zane smiled at him, but the grin didn't meet his piggish eyes as he sauntered forward to take a stool beside him.

  "Been a long time, Lash."

  "Not long enough," Lash said, and there was a prickling sensation dancing along his nape.

  "Oh, hell, can't we let bygones be bygones, brother?"

  "You're no brother of mine."

  Zane shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue. "Crying shame, that. 'Cause let me tell you, Lash, that little kitten over at the Texas Brand would make one fantasy of a sister-in-law."

  Lash's fists clenched, where they rested on the bar. "Maybe you'd like to tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

  "Why, Miss Jessi Brand, of course. She gets that look in her eyes when your name comes up. Then again, you always did have a way with the females."

  Teeth grated, Lash willed himself calm. "So, you've met Jessi."

  "Ah, well, yeah, I suppose you would be curious about that, now wouldn't you? Smart fella. I spent several hours with her Sunday morning, just sitting in that porch swing beside her and chatting like old pals. And then that sweet little thing invited me to go ridin' with her, and of course, being a red-blooded male, I took her up on it."

  Lash swallowed the sand in his throat.

  "I always did have a knack for taking things that were yours, little brother."

  "What the hell are you doing here, Zane?"

  Zane just shrugged. "Missed you. Wanted to catch up. But you don't need to say much, because that pretty little thing filled me in nice and thorough. We rode all over that sprawling ranch of hers … all alone. Just the two of us. 'Course, she did most of the talking. I was mostly enjoying the view."

  Lash stood up fast.

  Zane held up his hands. "Now, Lash, no need getting all excited. I didn't lay a finger on that pretty little thing." He tilted his head. "Not yet, anyway. Have you?"

  "You're slime, Zane, and I'm going to have to kick your ass for that. But before I do, maybe you'd like to tell me just what the hell you're really doing here. More importantly, are you gonna get out of town under your own steam, or am I gonna have to see to it that you leave in a pine box?"

  Zane smiled, got to his feet, and swallowed the shot he'd ordered in one quick gulp. "I'm here on business. Won't be for long. A few more days at most. So do you have any claims on the woman or not, Lash? I really need to know, 'cause you know, I think she kinda likes me. I asked her out—dinner's how I put it, but we both know it isn't food I'm gonna be devouring. Man, I can't remember when I've seen such a sweet, tight little—"

  Lash's fist flashed out, connected with Zane's face, and the larger man rocked backward, falling over his stool to the floor. He gave his head a shake, rubbed his nose, then looked up at Lash and smiled. "Then you do return the lady's feelings. Hell, all the more reason for me to show her how a real man would feel when he—"

  Lash gripped the bastard's shirt and hauled him to his feet. "Don't let me catch you anywhere near her, you son of a bitch!"

  Grinning, Zane shook his head. Then he sucker-punched Lash in the belly. Lash released him and doubled over, but came up swinging.

  "Sheriff Brand! Hurry up! There's trouble at La Cucaracha!"

  Garrett shot up from behind the desk, grabbed his hat and headed out. He'd been working late in the office, again. This damned case was baffling him. He'd sent Lash home early, mostly because it was fairly obvious his mind wasn't on his work, anyway. Something was bothering his deputy. Lash wasn't himself at all.

  Seemed distracted and brooding all the time. But Garrett supposed it was none of his business.

  Well, maybe there was a silver lining in his being stuck here at the office late, yet again. He'd been close by to see to whatever little crisis had cropped up at the local bar.

  He strode down the cracked sidewalk, ignoring the shiny new pickup, nearly identical to his old one, that sat outside his office. The insurance company had finally come through. And Garrett didn't miss the little toaster-car one bit. His long strides ate up the distance between his office and the bar. Then he walked inside the smoky room, heard glass smashing, and looked up to see his deputy holding his own in a brawling match with a man twice his size. Both men looked pretty bad, though, and Garrett shook his head slowly, battling a smile of admiration for Lash's spunk. He headed over to break it up.

  He damn near took a fist to the head for his trouble. Ducking fast, Garrett spun around and caught the stranger's fist in his hand. "Care to explain what you're doing using my deputy for a punching bag, stranger?"

  The big guy stopped, glanced down at the badge pinned to Garrett's chest and lowered his hand, panting, sweaty and bleeding from several locations on his face. Behind him, Lash stood in much the same condition. "He started it," the big guy said. "You ask anybody in h
ere, Sheriff. Lash here hit me first."

  Brows lifted, Garrett glanced at Freddy Ortega for confirmation.

  The bartender piped up. "Yup, Garrett. I seen it all. Lash started the whole fight." He stood behind mahogany ridge, wiping glasses with a towel and acting utterly unruffled. "Right after this 'ere stranger insulted your baby sister, wasn't it?" he asked the beefy man.

  Garrett's brows lifted. "My sister, huh? Well, hell, didn't you know that's illegal here in Quinn?"

  "Wha—"

  "Hey, everybody, tell this fella about that law. How's it go again? Article four, section two. Hell, I oughtta have it memorized, seeing as how I just wrote it myself, right this minute." He spun the man around, twisting one arm behind his back, then pulled the other one to join it and snapped on a pair of handcuffs. Paul Loomis was sitting at a corner table, fighting a smile, and Garrett motioned to him. "Paul, you mind taking this pile of garbage on over to the jail and shoving him in a cell for me? I need to talk with my deputy."

  Paul touched the brim of his hat, and got to his feet, gripping the guy's elbow and leading him out of the bar. The big guy didn't resist, just sent a menacing glance over his shoulder at Lash. Then he glanced at Garrett. "You can't hold me for anything more serious than disorderly conduct," he called.

  "Try assaulting an officer," Garrett told him as he was marched out the door.

  As if on cue, the murmur of conversation and the clinking of ice in glasses resumed. Garrett turned to Lash. "That forehead of yours will need stitching. You can tell me about this little incident on the way to Doc's office."

  "Doc's out of town tonight," the bartender called. "Best take him on over to the clinic. Jessi's stitched up her brothers often enough to take care of that little cut."

  A chuckle went up from the patrons close enough to hear. "Been hanging around them Brands so long, he's getting to be just like 'em," one said.

  "Yep. Durn fool stranger ought to know better than to mess with that bunch." More hearty laughter followed as Garrett led Lash outside and along the sidewalk to the new pickup in front of the office.