Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jessie was determined to make believe she was fine. While it was a hopeless lie and she knew how false the cover was, Jessie was desperate to keep the rest of the world from seeing it too.

Jessie hated the daytime on days like today. Days when the cloudless sky shone and bright the same deep blue as Langley's eyes. She also hated the nighttime—every nighttime—because it was then that she longed for Langley's arms the most. She would dream of lying against his chest, hearing his heart, and when she awoke alone it would tear her heart apart all over again.

She hated every person she saw with red hair. She hated freckles.

Jessie sighed. The simple truth was that these days she hated everything.

Hadn't Jessie been the one to decide that things needed to be over with Langley? Hadn't she been the one to let him walk away? And hadn't she decided that she had good reason to do what she'd done?

Jessie nodded as she plodded along slowly on her mare. The answer to those questions was yes and yet for some reason it was getting harder and harder to justify her decisions as time went on.

As odd as it was, Jessie was on her way to see her mama. She had only see the woman a handful of times over the years but Jessie knew where to find her. No matter how tough Jessie wanted the world to think she was, right now she needed someone to lean on. Langley was gone, her pa was dead and that meant the only other person Jessie had to choose was her mama—even if the woman was a no good, lying, cheating whore.

Jessie tightened her duster coat against the chill in the air. It was late October and winter was coming—even in east Texas.

She saw the town appear in the distance and her stomach clenched. She always felt apprehensive and a bit nauseous when she knew she'd be seeing he mama. Jessie hitched her horse at the saloon and headed in to get some liquid courage before she headed to the brothel.

Jessie had no real hope that she and her mother would have a true heart to heart moment. Leah Burke had never been a real mother to Jessie and probably wouldn't have any idea how to help her through her heartbreak. But the ache still remained inside Jessie to have a mama.

Or maybe it was simply an ache for a cure to her loneliness. Being without Langley had taught Jessie the meaning of that word.

Jessie cursed under her breath. Self-pity wasn't something that Jessie had ever had much use for. She downed her beer and then headed to a poker table. After losing several hands and deciding her mind was too distracted to stay on the game, Jessie stood and left the saloon.

It was time to find her mama.

She walked on stiff legs down the street to the fancy two story building on the corner of town. Her mother had been working in that building for as long as Jessie could remember and her pa had avoided this town as if he'd been afraid he'd die just from stepping foot inside it.

Jessie stopped at the heavy wood door and wiped her damp palms on her worn buckskin pants before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

"Can I help.. Jessie!" Madame Francine exclaimed as she came out from behind the velvet draped counter and breezed across the entryway toward her.

Jessie stood there stiffly as the elderly woman hugged her. It was easy to tell by looking at Francine's clear complexion and her girlish figure that she had been quite beautiful back in her younger days.

"You get more beautiful each and every time I see you," Madam Francine noted. "You could go quite far in this line of work."

Jessie rolled her eyes and Madam Francine nodded warmly. "Yes, I know. You're not interested."

"I'm here to see my mother. Is she around?"

Madame nodded and her slender arm motioned toward the stairs. "She's still sleeping. As you know, dear, we stay up most of the night around here."

Jessie nodded but refused to let herself think about what her mother was doing that kept her up all night. Sometimes it was easier to pretend that she didn't know what her mother did for a living. Jessie wasn't a good person destined to live a good life. She was the daughter of a drunken whore and a drunken, abusive card cheat.

"I'll just wake her up," Jessie replied as she headed for the grand stairway. The brothel her mother worked in was nice as far as brothels went. The walls were draped with red silk and the floors were covered with gold rugs that always felt soft despite the traffic they saw. The banisters and wood within the place were all dark, rich mahogany and the lamps were covered with thin shades that made them glow.

"Don't bother her for too long, dear," Madame Francine warned. "I need her fresh for tonight."

Jessie chose not to respond. She hated coming here. She hated Madame Francine. She hated the scents that always lingered in this place.

Jessie walked to her mama's room and adjusted her gun belt on her hips. A deep breath did nothing to calm her nerves. Jessie had faced down death. She had killed men. She had lied and cheated the best of them and had faced countless dangerous situations—and yet somehow, facing her mother made all those things seem like child's play. The woman had a way of making Jessie feel small and worthless just as she'd always felt as a child.

Why had she even come here?

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Jessie knocked on the door. "Who is it? I'm not working right now. You'll have to come back after nine tonight." Leah Burke's voice was raspy from years of smoking but Jessie knew it by heart.

"It's me," Jessie replied simply.

She heard movement within the room. The clinking of bottles had Jessie imagining what the woman probably looked like just now as she slid bottles under pillows and into drawers to hide the evidence of her addictions from her daughter.

"Wait a moment," her mama called. "I'm not decent."

Jessie could hear the slur in her words then and knew the woman was drunk. Jessie needed to leave.

"I'll come back another time," she said, turning to go.

The door was thrown open behind her and Jessie stopped in her tracks. "Nonsense! I haven't seen my only daughter in over a year!"

Jessie turned. Disgust and disappointment swirled in her gut. Looking at her mother was like looking in a mirror that showed her twenty years into the future. Leah had had the same eyes, hair, nose and dimpled chin that she had passed to her daughter.

Of course this mirrors image had obviously not washed since working the night before and her heavily painted face was smeared, her gold streaked hair knotted and her white sleeping gown wrinkled and crooked. The stench of liquor and men coming off the woman would have downed a fully grown buffalo.

It was hard to believe that Leah Burke was the most expensive and highly sought after whore at this brothel. Jessie knew that by tonight she would be cleaned up, polished and looking like every man's dream.

"Jessie! You look so different! You've grown up!" Leah exclaimed.

Jessie shrugged. "Yeah, mama. I grew breasts."

Leah laughed. "I see that. You'd fit right in here now from the looks of you."

"Except that I'm not a whore and would never wear all that paint on my face."

"I am what I am, Jessie, and I offer no apologies," Leah countered with a haughty shrug. "Now come on in and visit with your mother a while."

Jessie nodded and followed her mama into the dimly lit room. She refused to sit in the padded chair beside the fireplace that her mother offered her and instead stood beside the wall. There was no way she'd be placing any part of her body in that chair—it was impossible to tell how many sweaty men had been panted in that chair.

"Where is that good for nothing father of yours?" Leah asked as she lit a cigarette. "Still taking you from town to town and teaching you how to be a liar and a cheat?"

"Versus a drunk and a whore?" Jessie asked dryly.

Leah glared at her as she took a seat on the unmade bed. "I don't drink any more than your father does and I make good money doing what I do—unlike him."

"Pa doesn't make any money anymore," Jessie countered. "He's dead."

Leah's fingers shook as the cigarette tumbled from her hands and the color drained from her cheeks. She stared unseeing at Jessie for several long moments before bending low and grabbing the cigarette off the rug smoothing her slippered foot over the char mark.

"Did the bastard finally get caught cheating at his favorite past time?" she asked before taking a hefty draw from the cigarette and holding the smoke in her lungs.

"No. He trusted someone he shouldn't have trusted and was shot by a man he considered a friend."

Leah winced but then she snorted as she blew out all that smoke in a rush and crossed her legs. "Serves him right," she sneered.

Jessie knew the woman didn't truly feel that way. Her reaction moments ago had been an honest one. Hearing about the death of her husband had bothered her.

"I killed the man that killed him," Jessie informed her. "And I took enough money off him to cover pa's part and then some." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small sack of money.

Leah stared hard at it a moment before snatching it from Jessie's hand. "He might as well help me a bit now that he's dead. He never did a damn thing while alive other than give me a few bruises."

"You earned those bruises," Jessie countered. "You never could be faithful."

Leah shrugged one dainty shoulder. "I can't help it. It is who I am and it's in my blood. My mother was what I am and so was her mother. And your father came from a long line of sinners. Love was not meant for people like us. It's too fragile a thing."

Jessie bit her cheek to keep from showing the tears that wanted to fall. Love wasn't for them..... Jessie had heard that a hundred times and knew it was true. She wished she'd never gotten a taste of love because then she wouldn't miss it so damned bad.

"I'd better go, mama. Francine didn't want me to keep you up too long."

Leah's eyes were staring at the wall and Jessie had a feeling the woman didn't even hear her speak as Jessie walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Jessie stood outside the door to gain control of her emotions for a moment. Seeing her mother had confirmed her resolution that the choices she'd made about Langley had been the correct ones—even if they were painful.

Jessie let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and then nearly jumped out of her skin when something banged loudly down in the entryway.

"Sir, we're not open yet. You'll have to come back tonight," Madame Francine's stern voice floated up the staircase.

"Dammit!" a man bellowed. "I came here for rutting and that's what I intend to do!"

"And if you come back tonight then you can do just that," Madame Francine replied.

Jessie's blood boiled when the sound of a fist striking flesh filled the air and Madame Francine cried out in pain. Jessie might not like the woman but she liked the idea of a man hitting a woman even less.

She ran down the staircase and pulled her gun when she found a big, burly man holding Madame Francine against the wall by her throat. His free hand was fondling her breast through the fabric of her dress.

"Let her go," Jessie ordered.

The man turned and instantly released his hold on Madame Francine when he saw Jessie. He grinned as his eyes fell on her gun. "Are you a spirited filly then?"

Jessie shook her head. "Get out or I will shoot you."

"I'm not scared of you," he hissed. He took a step forward and Jessie cocked her revolver. He tilted his head. "Is that how it's going to be?"

"Yeah, that's how it's gonna be," Jessie replied.

Madame Francine ran out the door, probably to get the sheriff. Jessie saw the man go for his gun. He was fast. She fired a shot but as the piece of iron and wood went off in her hand, a searing pain burned through her chest.

The man fell to the floor, blood pumping from the wound to his heart. Jessie couldn't draw a good breath. She fell to her knees, the pain unbearable. She didn't dare look down to see her own wound.

Her vision began to swim as blood soaked through her shirt and vest, dripping down her front. Jessie dropped to the floor, landing in a heap at the base of the staircase.

She was faintly aware of voices crying out for help as her eyes slipped closed. In her mind, the last thing she was aware of, was the memory of a pair of bright blue eyes and Langley's gentle voice telling her that everything was going to be just fine.