Chapter Six: In Cold Blood

Jamie paced the parlor like a caged animal, routinely stopping by the window to watch Rose, still dancing with the new deputy from town.

At first, he'd been convinced her only motive was to anger him, but he began to worry as on his next round he saw her her laughing and talking animatedly with him and Teaspoon.

He knew her at least as well as he knew himself…or he used to…and he could tell when she was putting on an act. As she beamed at the tall man, he knew this was not an act.

"What in the world has gotten into you?"

Jamie flinched. It was Lou's voice. He was still staring out the window, and didn't want to turn and face her.

"Nothing."

"Mmm-hmm. It had better be something the way you stormed off like that. I had to tell poor Elizabeth that you'd taken ill. Have you?"

Yes, Jamie thought, noticing the churning of his stomach that had started when his lips touched Rose's and not stopped since. In fact, the sickness only grew as he saw Rose touch the deputy's arm and laugh, "I'm fine. I've got a headache."

"Your face is an open book, Jamie, just like mine and if you're going to lie to me at least be sure I can't see your reflection in the glass!"

Jamie finally dropped the curtain and turned around. His long strides carried him around the room first before he dropped, defeated, into a chair, clutching the arms with all his strength to keep himself still.

"What's this about? What is wrong with you?" Lou wondered, angrily, "It's hardly proper for you to be in here while your guests…"

"Worried about what's proper, are you? Well then maybe you'd better go see to Rose, who is at this moment throwing herself at the new deputy! It's indecent!"

Slow realization spread across Lou's face and she shook her head, "James Noah McCloud," Jamie, by habit, shrank in his chair feeling five years old as her sharp eyes pierced his, "You are jealous! Rose has shown the slightest interest…and that's all it is, interest, in another man and you've suddenly got to have her! All this time she gladly would have followed you to the end of the Earth, you didn't want her, and now that she's cast a glance at another man, you can't stand it!"

"That's not it!" Jamie bellowed, striking the chair with his fist.

"That's so small of you Jamie! Don't tell me this has nothing to do with Rose!"

"It has nothing to do with this new deputy!" Jamie growled back.

"What then? What is wrong with you if not the new deputy?"

Jamie groaned, and met her eyes. He wasn't one to kiss and tell, but damn it, he'd kissed Rose before she ever lay eyes on this man, had realized he felt more for her than any other girl he'd ever known-before she'd found the idiot she was dancing with now. He was on his way to tell her that when he saw her dancing with John Morgan. It wasn't simple jealousy, of that he was sure. But there was no way to prove that unless he told Lou about kissing her, which he would not. It was something between he and Rose.

"This isn't jealousy!"

"Then what else is it Jamie? Because it isn't fair to her to want her only when someone else does! You've had your chance, but I'm warning you, best to leave her alone for now! Because she'll only resent you if you approach her with this now, and you'll lose her trust."

"I already lost it, all right?" Jamie snapped back, "I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

He went to walk by her, but suddenly she pulled on his arm, and he stopped to look at her. She studied him, tears welling in her own eyes when she saw the pain in his own.

"You're a stubborn fool, and I know you won't listen to my advice, that you're going to tell her probably sooner than later, but I don't want either of you to get hurt. I love you both."

Jamie nodded, but said nothing. Planting a kiss on her cheek and hugging her briefly, he passed her and went to his room, to spend a tortured night reliving her kiss, and wondering how he could have been so stupid as to let her walk away from him again.

"Might I have the pleasure of your company again, Rose?"

Rose's heart thumped against the front of her chest, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. With pleasure or embarrassment, she wasn't sure, but didn't care. She liked his clear, steady green gaze. She hadn't planned on enjoying his company, had honestly set out just to make Jamie jealous, but she had liked him very much indeed.

"I don't…" a quick smile from him crushed her doubt, "Yes."

"Splendid," he said, and she enjoyed his accent immensely. He took her hand in his and bent low over it, his lips heating the flesh of her hand as he kissed it, "I'll call on you soon. Goodnight to you."

"Goodnight," Rose smiled, and dropped her eyes shyly as he bowed and walked toward the stables.

She stood alone in the dust, watching the last of the wagons rumble back towards Sweetwater, as Patrick, Seth, Carlos, Buck, Kid, and Teaspoon started blowing out the lanterns.

She closed her eyes, her emotions in turmoil. She could still feel Jamie's kiss as if he'd just lifted his head from hers-laughing, damn him-and her heart beat furiously at the thought. She'd never dreamed such sensation could exist, but he'd proved it.

But she couldn't do it again. That had been clear in the horrifying moment when she thought he was mocking her. She knew now he hadn't been, but the feeling of what it had been like the first time he'd laughed at her was too fresh, too easily recalled and relived. He'd asked her if she trusted him, and she'd told him she did. It was the truth, in some respects, she thought. If Jamie asked her to lie down in front of a herd of stampeding buffalo she would have done it without a thought. If he'd told her that a gun was empty and put it to her head, she would have pulled the trigger.

But, she realized slowly, if he told her he loved her, the doubts came falling down like rain.

She trusted him with her life.

But not her heart. Not again.

Lou and Kid cast several meaningful looks over the table at one another at breakfast the following morning. The tension was tangible and heavy over the table, like a fog. Jamie and Rose went out of their way to avoid meeting each other's eyes. They were also exceedingly polite to each other, tacking on "please" and "thank you" whenever it was necessary for them to actually speak to one another.

In fact, they were so pleasant, Kid thought he had landed in an alien world. Kid opened his mouth to say something after one such exchange, but a swift kick from Lou under the table deterred him, and with a glare at her, he reached for another biscuit instead.

Jamie excused himself before the meal was through, and walked outside. Lou didn't miss Rose's troubled eyes on his back, but the girl's mouth stayed pressed in a thin line of determination. She wasn't going to talk either, Lou realized.

They didn't have to. Something big had happened last night between them at some point, that was obvious enough.

She sighed. They were old enough to work through their own troubles, whatever they were. Her eyes landed on Kid, remembering their early struggles. He caught her gaze and grinned at her, cheeks puffed out with the biscuit he'd shoved in his mouth.

Despite herself, a little laugh escaped her and she thought that just maybe all the turmoil of young love was worth it to get to sit across a breakfast table with him every day.

It was noon and Rose had just finished brushing and drying out her hair after picking pins out all morning and washing it when John Morgan called. She saw his horse approaching the station, and quickly dressed in a split skirt and a soft yellow blouse that Lou had insisted looked flattering against her complexion.

She clattered down the stairs and tried to gain her breath as Kid opened the door, and let John Morgan in.

She didn't miss Kid's sharp eyes, sizing the young man up carefully, as if deciding if he was worthy of speaking to Rose. From the look on his face he has determined that he was not, but nevertheless, he politely invited him into the parlor.

Rose reintroduced him to Lou and Kid, who'd met him last night, and Lou tried to make up for Kid's coolness by being particularly friendly. After a moment of small talk and a bit of interrogation on Kid's part, John cleared his throat lightly.

He asked, "Mr. and Mrs. McCloud, I came by to ask your permission to let Rose accompany me on a ride? I've heard wonderful things about your ranch, and would be honored to see the land myself."

Kid warmed slightly at this, Lou noticed with a wry smile. He still looked hesitant at releasing Rose to his keeping, so Lou stepped up and smiled at John, "Of course, if Rose would like to go, she may."

All eyes turned to Rose, who blushed and nodded, "I'd love to show you the land."

John smiled, and offered her his arm as they walked from the parlor and out of the house. Lou put a restraining hand on Kid's arm when he went to follow them.

"Oh, leave them alone. Rose will be fine."

Kid grinned down at her, "Maybe it is him I am worried for…"

Jamie was bent over, shoeing a horse when he heard voices at the end of the stable. He glanced up, expecting his mother or father, and felt the color drain from his face when he saw Rose with him.

How dare she flaunt John Morgan in his face, and better yet, how dare John Morgan lay his hand so personally over hers!

The horse snorted when he straightened up and dropped the hoof abruptly.

Seth, from the horse's head, looked at him in surprise, then glanced in the direction he was staring. His mouth twitched with worry at what Jamie would do, and he opened his mouth in warning, but Jamie was already walking down the aisle.

Rose giggled at something John was saying and dropped his arm as they reached Mesa's stall. She was undoing the latch when she saw Jamie heading towards them with purposeful strides.

She took her breath in sharply, and allowed her eyes to bore into his fully for the first time since their kiss. A million currents passed between them in the stare.

Jamie, you leave him alone, her eyes warned him.

I'll do what I damn well please, the answering glare.

Rose sighed, and steadied herself for battle.

Jamie came to a stop abruptly, studying the Englishman closely. In turn, Rose looked back and forth between them. They were quite a contrast, one pale, the other dark, one in trousers and a shirt left unbuttoned in the heat, the other in formal breeches and a waist coat.

Was the disdain on Jamie's face clear to John, Rose wondered, or was it only that she knew him so well?

"I don't think we've met. I'm James McCloud."

Rose noticed instantly that while he offered John his hand he did not offer him his friendly name.

"But you can call him Jamie. Everyone calls him that," Rose said sweetly, avoiding the murderous blue eyes at all costs. Jamie could do nothing short of look like a child by refusing to answer to John addressed as such, "Don't they Jamie dear?"

"All my friends do," he replied evenly.

What had caused this sudden hostility between them? Was it all because of John, or something else altogether, she wondered.

She listened to the polite exchanges between the two for a moment, watching each of them size the other up and apparently each feel superior, before she could take no more.

"Jamie, if you don't mind, John and I are going riding this afternoon, and we should be on our way."

Jamie bowed with gallantry Rose knew was sheer mockery, and stood back, "Far be it from me to keep two people from an afternoon of merriment. Careful though," Jamie said, wanting to hurt her like it hurt him to see her with this man who couldn't understand the depths of her as he could. He addressed John, but looked right at her. "Our Rose here is very inexperienced with gentlemen callers."

The color drained from her cheeks, and Jamie instantly felt his own pain double. She blinked in shock and turned to her horse, hiding her face from both of them.

"Yes, I haven't met many gentlemen," Rose finally said in a low voice, and Jamie had to step back as she led Mesa from his stall. He would have sworn the horse tried to tread on his toes on purpose.

John hung back for a minute, offering his hand.

Jamie clasped it tightly, and for a moment it was a test of strength as both men gripped hard.

"Don't worry yourself, I'll watch her well," John said, the smugness in his voice not hidden in the least.

"Watch yourself as well," Jamie said pleasantly, the threat made clear enough by the stony set of his jaw and the fires in his eyes.

Jamie was still in the barn when she stormed in late that day, alone. He thought about ducking into the nearest stall and avoiding her, but her furious eyes sought him out before he could move.

"How dare you! How dare you accost him as if he was doing something wrong! As if I was!" She shrieked in fury, not stopping before she reached his toes and stood glaring up at him.

"I only introduced myself, Rose. The polite thing to do," Jamie said calmly, although his blood was heating to a fine boil.

"The hell you did," Rose shot back.

Jamie looked back at her and flinched inwardly. While her eyes had the look of frozen calm last night, today they were a stormy, dark gray, almost violet, and she didn't blink or look away.

"You've got a problem with him, and I want to know what it is!" Rose snapped, "He hasn't done anything to you!"

Oh, but he has! Jamie thought.

"It isn't him that is the problem, it's you! Did you like my kiss so much that you figure you'll go around and try it on everyone in town now?"

Rose's hand moved like lightning, but he was just as quick and caught her wrist before she could slap his face. However, there was no way to stop the booted foot that caught him squarely in the shins.

He swore loudly, and released his hold on her wrist for a minute. She didn't storm away like he expected her to, but calmly crossed her arms and glared at him.

They looked at each other for a moment, toe to toe and faces red with anger before Jamie sighed, and felt his fury leave him.

"You can't just pretend like last night didn't happen, you know," he finally said softly.

Rose stared at him, trying to decide if she could lower her voice as well. When she seemed in possession of her speaking skills again, she told him, "Last night was a mistake, Jamie. You know it as well as I. And it ain't gonna happen again."

Jamie reached out to touch her chin, "I didn't think it was a mistake at all."

Rose finally broke the stare that followed and shook her head, "I can't do this again. I-I'm leaving."

She turned to go, and got two steps before Jamie reached out to touch her shoulder. She stopped without turning around.

"Why do you always run away from me?" He wondered, quiet.

"Why do you always let me?" she responded without fire.

She started walking again, and Jamie thought about following her just to prove her wrong. But, though his heart knotted, and he realized she was right, and his feet stayed planted. Pride kept them both on their courses, him standing still, her escaping the dimness of the stables, the sun gleaming off her hair like copper as she walked out into the yard.

"Do you think you two can manage without killing each other?" Lou asked a week later as she stood by Kid, tying her bedroll.

Rose and Jamie glanced sideways at each other.

A temporary truce was called between them, but they still were not at ease around each other. Lou had been so excited about going with Kid to trade some horses in Kansas that neither of them would have stopped her for the world.

"I think we'll manage," Jamie answered, and put a hand on Rose's shoulder, not missing the uneasy tightening of the muscle beneath his hands. She smiled brightly and nodded though when his hand squeezed hard to encourage her to be positive.

"You two ride safe," Rose gasped out and deliberately stepped out from under Jamie's hand so she could hug and kiss them both.

They followed them out on the porch and watched as they took their reins from Seth and Buck who waited to ride with them. Kid, astride his black and white paint Belle, and Lou on her young black colt named Target, made a fine sight as they rode from the station, side by side, and both as straight and tall in their saddles as they'd been at eighteen.

Jamie's face curved into a grin of admiration. He glanced beside him to see a similar look on Rose's face.

Without speaking to her, he walked down the stairs and toward the stables to begin his chores.

It was getting dark and still no sign of Rose, Jamie thought, faint worry eating at him, but losing to the irritation. She'd gone to town to eat dinner with him, thus leaving Jamie no choice but to either fix his own dinner or to go to Rachel's house.

Teaspoon was home for dinner and studied Jamie's sour look with a grin, "Don't worry, boy, John will take good care of her."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jamie muttered without thinking.

Teaspoon burst into hearty laughter, "A little jealous, are you?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" He demanded with a defiant look that reminded Teaspoon keenly of the look Lou had obtained when someone hinted she couldn't do her job because she was a woman.

"Because you're practically green in the face with it," Rachel answered for him, and helped another spoonful of stew onto his plate.

"Well, I'm not! I just don't want her thinking because Mama and Dad are away that she can stay out till all hours with this-" realizing he was speaking to John's employer and his grandfather, he closed his mouth abruptly.

Rachel and Teaspoon cast each other a look that only made him more adamant.

"I'm not jealous! But she's spending an awful lot of time with him, and no one seems to care how it looks!"

"How does it look son?" Teaspoon wondered, "Rose is old enough to make her own decisions and spend her time as she pleases. She's got a fine head on her shoulders. Besides, nine o'clock is hardly 'all hours' of the night."

"Never mind," Jamie muttered, seeing they wouldn't understand either. Was he jealous? He shook his head slightly. Denying it to himself.

However, the scene later that night seemed to indicate otherwise.

The young mare had colic, and a bad case as well, but had turned a corner for the better. That was why Jamie was in the stable near eleven o'clock, with Patrick and Carlos when he heard hoof beats and laughter on the summer air.

Rose guided Mesa to the back entrance to the stable and stopped him, glancing shyly at John. He got off his horse and came around to lift her from the palomino.

Jamie didn't like to think he was eavesdropping, but he couldn't really deny it when he craned his head toward the doorway. Carlos and Patrick, looking mildly ashamed, did the same.

"Thank you for dinner," Rose's voice was soft, dreamy and John's hands stayed on her waist, warm through her clothes.

"A small price to pay for your company, I think," John responded, "You've got the most unusual bloody eyes," he then added.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. Somehow his beautiful seemed better than unusual bloody when describing her eyes, and he was satisfied.

However, Rose didn't seem to think so, "Really?"

Jamie cursed her for sounding so enchanted.

Her heart was beating fast. She'd known him for a week, and he was handsome, and kind and attentive, and even with all those qualities, even better-a distraction from Jamie.

Now, she glanced up at him with the same reckless abandon that made her first request a dance with him. And for the same reason, to drive away the ghost of another dance, another smile, another kiss, she smiled nervously.

"Would you kiss me, John?" Her voice was very soft, a shy invitation, but an invitation nonetheless.

Jamie felt his face go white in shock before a flush of embarrassment and anger rose to his face, and his hands trembled. He longed to strike something, but doing so would give them away. Patrick and Carlos shifted uncomfortably, watching Jamie nervously, and ready to tackle him should he take it upon himself to kill the Englishman.

"I've thought of little else since I met you, Rose."

His voice was gentle. His kiss not so much so.

Rose was a bit surprised at the aggressive demand of his mouth, but she yielded to him, and met him. There was nothing tender and gentle, no give and take. He took, and took, demanding more than she was ready to give. There was passion in the kiss, and her blood ran warm with excitement, and thrilled at the power of him. But, at the same time, she felt herself shrinking with fear when she tried to pull away and he didn't let her.

She made a sound of protest, and placed both hands against the wall of his chest, pushing slightly at first, then more firmly as he pressed her closer to him. His hand crept up her side, towards her breast, and, she pushed with all her might, stepping back out of his hold.

"Stop," she told him breathlessly. As if he didn't hear her, he reached for her again.

She raised her voice and said forcefully, "John, I said stop."

Hearing this, Jamie started to charge to her defense, his hands shaking even more uncontrollably that John might be hurting her.

Patrick and Carlos both grabbed him hard, and shook their heads. John was talking again, and obviously Rose had handled the situation by herself.

Rose drug her hand across the back of her mouth, lips feeling bruised slightly. Her eyes glared at John accusingly, but he made no excuses.

"You're beautiful, and alive Rose. I knew you would be, but not how much so! I didn't mean to scare you, and I'm sorry. You needn't worry about me hurting you, though. I'll never do anything that you don't ask me to."

Rose trembled slightly. She had invited him to kiss her, and she was still dizzy from the effects of it.

Finally she nodded, "I know you wouldn't hurt me John. I-I just…" she paused, and realized she had no idea how to describe that he had scared her without looking like a child. "Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, my darling. May I see you again?"

Jamie tensed, so close to his snapping point that veins stood in his forehead and the muscles in his neck bulged, the pulse in his throat visible as his blood made a slow, murderous journey through his tense limbs.

"Of course," Rose's voice sounded, and with a last goodnight to each other, they heard retreating hoof beats.

Rose sighed, and watched him go, then picked up Mesa's reins and walked him into the barn, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers.

Patrick and Carlos went quickly back to their work, not wishing Rose to know they'd listened to everything that had transpired outside. They took it for granted that Jamie would respectfully do the same, but were proved wrong.

At the sight of her, Jamie flung down the cloth he'd been holding and headed toward her.

Rose was so trapped in the mix of fascination and fear John's kiss had left with her that she didn't see Jamie until he was right in front of her.

She gasped in surprise when she saw his furious expression, but had no time to gain her wits before he planted himself in front of her.

"What the hell are you doing? Smearing my family's name and honor! After all we've done for you!"

He continued yelling but the roaring fury in her ears drowned out the next words.

Patrick and Carlos were soon on either side of Jamie, pulling him back from her, and leaving her trembling badly as her fury mounted.

"Your name!" She snapped as Jamie shrugged off their restraining hands, but didn't advance on her again, "I have my own name! And if I do smear any honor it will be mine, not yours!"

"And you're not concerned in the least about that are you? About your honor! Hell, why should you be?" Jamie yelled back.

"My honor, or lack of it, is none of your goddamned business!" Rose shouted back, "Who do you think you are spying on me!"

"Somebody better spy on you!" Jamie roared, slamming his fist into the stable wall.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are to have appointed yourself my babysitter!"

"Fine!" Jamie's voice climbed in volume, and horses were snorting nervously and milling in their stalls, "Do what you want, Rose! If you want to be a lawman's whore like your mother, far be it from me to stop you!"

"Jamie!" Patrick's voice was sharp, and he shoved Jamie backwards, stepping between him and Rose. "Ye'll not speak to her like that!"

Jamie looked past Patrick's blood red face, to Rose's. Usually, when she was angry, she went red. Now, however, her face had drained of all color, white with fury. Her pupils dilated, and her hands trembled. She took one step forward, then another, past Patrick and stopped in front of him.

He didn't even try to stop her this time as her hand came crashing across his face, with a force that turned his head and left a stinging red handprint across his cheek.

He kept his head turned to the side, too ashamed to look at her, not because of anything she had done, but because of what he had said.

"You'll not speak of my mother again," she commanded him, her voice strained with the effort of control, "ever."

He could feel her furious eyes holding to his face, had seen the glint of the tears threatening them and held back by only sheer will as she looked at him steadily. He didn't look at her, kept his face averted. She backed up, turned, and walked from the stable, not caring for once if Mesa was tended to or not.

"That was poorly done, lad," Patrick's voice was still trembling in fury, "Ye've no right to say such things. Bloody vicious it was."

Jamie finally glanced at him, then at Carlos, who looked at him in outrage, but was too angry to say anything.

Without a word, Jamie walked away from them, seized Mesa's reins, leapt upon his back, and kicked the horse into a dead gallop, before he was out of the stable, heading in the direction of Sweetwater.

"Do you think he'll do himself or the deputy harm?" Carlos wondered.

"No," Patrick said with relative certainty, "Not the deputy. I imagine the lad's going to get good and drunk."

"Just as well," Carlos said, "Even so, I'm going to go and watch him."

"Ye alright, yerself?" Patrick suddenly asked, "Ye look a mite dangerous."

"Si."

Jamie hated the taste of whiskey with a passion.

Still, he had to admit, after the third shot, he couldn't taste it much anymore, and the pleasant burning feeling in his stomach eased the knots that had been there for a week now.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, thinking of what he said to her, "You fool," he said, talking to himself.

He felt sorry for himself a bit longer until he heard a blood curdling scream outside the saloon. As did everyone else, Jamie staggered to his feet and stumbled outside to see what the fuss was about.

The reality brought with it instant sobriety, and horror, piercing through the haziness of his brain like a bullet. Just a few steps from the porch of the building, a saloon girl lay dead in the dust, covered with what seemed like gallons of her own blood. Her throat had been opened with a knife.

"Murder!" The panic was rippling through the crowd like a wave, and he pushed himself forward to get a better look so that he might make a report to Teaspoon.

His hoarse cry sounded above the others though, when he crouched beside the girl and realized all of the blood did not come from her throat.

Some of it came from a severed ear, crammed into her mouth.