Page 41 of The Promise of Jenny Jones

The sun was directly overhead when the train chuffed into the Verde Flores station. The terrain had altered and softened. Trees flanked the river that tumbled through town, clumps of mesquite and creosote bush flowed away from the village perimeters.

An hour earlier, according to plan, they had exchanged places with a family in the last seats across the aisle so Graciela wouldn’t be framed in the window on the depot side of the train.

As soon as the train lurched to a stop, Ty glanced at Jenny who nodded grimly, then he walked down the aisle and stepped outside onto the platform between the cars.

He quickly glanced across the sagging depot porch.

People rushed to greet passengers getting off, others stood, gathering belongings prior to boarding.

Leaning out, Ty looked up and down the length of the train, then, scowling, he returned inside and slid into the seat next to Jenny.

“Three men,” he said quietly. “One’s on the platform. One just boarded the car directly behind the locomotive. The other is checking the cars at the rear.”

She nodded. “They’ll walk through the cars, working toward each other.”

“That’s my guess.” He touched Graciela’s shoulder, gazed into her wide eyes. “We discussed this, remember?” She nodded solemnly. “If one of them gets past us, you run outside and make a hell of a noise. We’ll see you or hear you. Otherwise, stay right here. Don’t move.”

When he finished, Jenny placed her hands on Graciela’s shoulders and peered into her face. “Don’t go having any second thoughts. Don’t start thinking your cousins want to take you back to Aunt Tete. You know what they want.” Graciela bit her lips and nodded. “Say it.”

“Money,” his niece whispered. “They want to hurt me.”

“That’s right,” Jenny stated firmly. “If you get some crackbrained idea about joining up with a cousin, say this word: Snakes.” She stared into Graciela’s eyes. “We have to trust you, kid. Graciela. We’re trusting you not to run off. Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Your word is your bond.”

Ty touched Jenny’s shoulder. “She understands. We’re losing time.” When she stood and straightened her shoulders, he watched her gaze harden as she shifted her thoughts toward the men searching for them. “You go forward, I’ll take the back.”

He wasted another minute gazing deep into her eyes, fighting a protective urge. The straw hat and skirt made him very aware that she was a woman. It impressed him as crazy to send a female off to fight a man.

Hell, what was he thinking? He’d known men who couldn’t throw a punch as hard as she did. “How’s your arm?”

“Like new. Get moving.” She glanced at Graciela again, then turned smartly in a swirl of skirts and strode toward the door at the front of the car without a backward glance.

He frowned, watching her go. He would have felt better about this if she’d been wearing her usual trousers and shapeless poncho.

“Don’t worry,” Graciela said calmly, not a doubt in her voice or demeanor. “Jenny is very strong and very brave.”

“Yes, she is.” Leaving Graciela alone concerned him. “Don’t move.”

But she did. Before he had taken two steps, she changed seats, moving forward to sit with a Mexican family. He nodded. She was a clever kid.

Moving quickly, he walked through the next crowded passenger car, then the next.

The cousins weren’t leaving anything to chance.

The man he’d spotted at the tail end of the train had started with the boxcars first. Once Ty was certain the man hadn’t yet entered the passenger cars, he dropped to the ground and sprinted to the closest boxcar.

The doors were open and he pulled himself inside, almost colliding with a man preparing to jump out.

Ty didn’t give the bastard a chance to collect his thoughts. Springing to his feet, he came up with an uppercut that sent the Barrancas cousin flying back among the horses and mules.

Pressing his advantage, he jumped forward and took a fist in the gut. Hammering at each other, the two of them rolled in the bedding, trying to avoid stamping hooves.

Jenny walked swiftly through the forward car, stepped onto the platform, then peered through the window into the next car. Immediately, she ducked out of sight. Chulo moved slowly down the middle aisle, scanning each face he passed.

Leaning out of the platform enclosure, she tried to judge how close they were to departure. She noticed the officials were already aboard before a cloud of steam obscured her vision. The whistle shrieked overhead, then the cars lurched and clashed together.

As the train rolled forward, she grabbed an iron handle to steady her balance, then withdrew her pistol and waited for the door to open. When it did, she let Chulo step past her and reach for the door to the next car before she moved up and jabbed him in the spine with the barrel of her pistol.

He held his gun at his side, against his leg. She twisted it out of his fingers and smiled when he swore. “Put your hands flat against the door,” she ordered crisply, tossing his pistol off of the train.

Already Verde Flores receded behind them and the train was moving faster.

Hot wind blew across the platform, caught Jenny’s straw hat and snatched it away, fluttered her skirt around her ankles.

She waited for the train to reach top speed, idly listening to Chulo swear and threaten and tell her what he and the Barrancases were going to do to her.

She couldn’t steal their little cousin. They would kill her.

They would take their pleasure on her first. And et cetera.

Jenny liked the word, et cetera. It covered a lot of ground.

“All right, pig, here’s what we’re going to do.

” She shoved the pistol barrel tight against the roll of fat at his waist. “You’re going to take one step backward, turn right, and you’re going to jump off this train.

If you even think about hesitating, I’ll shoot.

” She moved back, opening a space between them so he couldn’t grab her. “Move, you son of a whore. Jump. ”

Wind whipped her hair and skirt, the platform swayed back and forth beneath her boots. And Chulo was fast.

He spun with a snarl and she didn’t see the knife in his fist until it had slashed across her waist and the bloodied blade flashed in the sunlight.

She staggered backward toward the door of the forward car, firing as she fell.

Chulo doubled forward, grabbing his gut.

Jenny didn’t see him fall off the train.

She was frantically grabbing for a handle, trying to keep her hem from snagging in the coupling.

When she felt safe, she looked up. The platform was empty.

The son of a bitch had gone over the side.

Now she peered down at herself, inspecting a red stain seeping across her white blouse.

Damn it. The wound didn’t hurt yet, but it would.

Swearing between her teeth, she shoved her hot pistol into her waistband.

Pressing a hand against the wound, she shrugged her shawl into place to conceal the blood, then jerked open the heavy door, walked through the passenger car, across the next platform, and into the following car.

Ty stood up beside Graciela and strode toward her, glaring and kicking chickens out of the aisle. He gripped her shoulders. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Do whatever it takes to move the people sitting across the aisle from us. We need privacy.”

When he lifted a questioning eyebrow, she opened her shawl enough to reveal a glimpse of blood. “Christ!” His eyes returned to her face. “How bad?”

“Don’t know yet,” she said through clenched teeth. The pain was beginning. “My guess is, I’ll need some stitching.”

“I’ll get that family moved.”

He managed it faster than she would have imagined, changing sullen resistance to smiling acquiescence with a handful of pesos.

Jenny pressed her hand to the wound, feeling the blood well between her fingers, and hoped her weaving steps would be attributed to the motion of the train.

By the time she reached the last seat, sweat gleamed on her forehead and her face was ashen.

Dropping onto the seat, she closed her eyes.

“Jenny?” Graciela stared at her.

“Your son-of-a-bitch cousin Chulo knifed me.”

Leaning over her, Graciela tugged at the edge of the shawl, then gasped and covered her mouth. She twisted away, one hand pressed to her stomach, one hand against her lips.

Ty sat across from them facing forward, watching to make sure no one paid them any attention. “Let’s see how bad it is,” he growled.

Jenny swallowed, then removed her pistol and handed it to him. Clamping down a groan, she eased her blouse out of her waistband and raised it to a point beneath her breasts. “You tell me. How bad?” she whispered, watching his face.

He met her eyes. “About four inches long. Looks shallow at the ends, deeper in the middle. You’re right. You need stitches.” Reaching beneath the seat, he pulled up a set of saddlebags, then swept a look down the length of the car. “Any ideas on how we’re going to manage this?”

“How long before we reach Chihuahua?”

He shrugged. “Assuming a minimum of stops, probably not until midmorning tomorrow.”

It was too long to wait. She needed tending now. “All right.” Concentrating, she tested the pain for bite and depth, decided she could bear it. There wasn’t much choice. “You carrying any liquor in those saddlebags, cowboy? I could sure use a drink.”

He removed a bottle of tequila, pulled the cork with his teeth, then handed it across to her.

“Obliged,” she muttered, before taking a long pull.

Liquid fire roared toward her belly. “All right. Find Graciela’s nightshift.

It’s probably the cleanest thing we’ve got.

Tear it into bandage strips, and we’ll need a couple of mop-up rags. ”

Graciela sat on her knees on the seat, staring at Jenny with tears running down her cheeks. “I forgot to tell God not to punish you.”