Read Online The Promise of Jenny Jones by Maggie Osborne - Free Book Online
Authors: Maggie Osborne
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and her legs curled all tight and ladylike on the wooden seat.
Jenny leaned her head against the sooty windowpane, wishing it would open, and thought about the cousins. She needed a plan, because her sixth sense warned they would be on the next train after her. And next time, she wouldn't have the cowboy to help her
Thinking of him in her sleepy state, Jenny had to admit that the cowboy had been one good-looking son of a bitch.
Usually Jenny didn't pay much mind to a man's appearance. She just didn't think about men in terms of how they looked. But the cowboy had the same kind of eyes as Graciela, blue-green like the sea and fringed with soft brown lashes. Those eyes had been something to see, startling next to sun-darkened cheeks. Idly, she wondered how he'd gotten the black eye. It had started to go yellow so it wasn't fresh. He hadn't gotten it in the fight with Cousin Chub.
Miles rolled under the train, and her thoughts kept drifting back to him. The cowboy had the kind of tall, lanky physique that could mislead a person into thinking he might be more string than muscle. When Jenny first saw him, she'd half figured that Cousin Chulo, who was built like a beer barrel, would drop the cowboy after a couple of punches. But the cowboy's wiry form was all muscle, and he had staying power, by God.At the end, it was the cowboy who was still standing. Jenny grinned, remembering.
She wondered what the cowboy was doing this deep inMexico. That question led to a consideration ofher own situation.
Touching her fingertips to her forehead, she thought about her rig and the freight she'd been commissioned to haul back toEl Paso. Undoubtedly, her rig and cargo had been stolen seconds after her arrest. Mr. Comden would charge her for losing the load of bone buttons if she ever saw him again. She had to make sure that didn't happen. Good-byeTexas, hello somewhere else. It looked like her mule-skinning days were over.
To pass the time, she tried to remember what was inside the shack she'd rented inEl Paso, but couldn't recall anything she minded walking away from. A person like her didn't accumulate anything of much value. Unlike a certain prissy kid she knew, she was no fricking heiress.
Gazing out the window, Jenny watched a dry little village slip past the smoke-streaked pane. It was about as appealing as the cacti that surrounded it. Frowning, she looked down at Graciela's head in her lap and wished she could fall asleep that easily.
But her thoughts wouldn't settle down. Marguarita invaded her mind, and worries about the cousins, and the cowboy kept popping up too.
After a while, Jenny leaned to the bag at her feet, careful not to wake Graciela, and withdrew her battered dictionary. There was nothing like reading words to settle a fevered brain. Some of the definitions were like puzzles. They didn't make any more sense than the words did. She had to study them and ponder hard to work out the meaning. Many of the words she forgot almost as soon as she read them.
But other words sang to her imagination, and she said them over and over, charmed by the sound and wanting to commit them to memory.
Virile (vir-il) belonging to
Virility (vi-ril-i-ty) n. manhood.
"Virile," she said quietly. A soft word for a hard thing. Pursing her lips, she considered,then composed a sentence using the word. "The cowboy is virile."
Heat rushed into her cheeks, surprising her. Damned if thinking about the cowboy and virility didn't make her blush. Embarrassed, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. There wasn't a soul who knew her who would have believed she was capable of blushing, in eluding herself.
It was a damned good thing that she wasn't going to see that cowboy again. Yes, sir, a damned good thing. She was happy that she and the cowboy had parted ways. Glad that the odds of seeing him again were mighty slim. She sure didn't want to see any son of a bitch who could make her blush. No sirree bob, she didn't.
He'd probably
Jenny leaned her head against the sooty windowpane, wishing it would open, and thought about the cousins. She needed a plan, because her sixth sense warned they would be on the next train after her. And next time, she wouldn't have the cowboy to help her
Thinking of him in her sleepy state, Jenny had to admit that the cowboy had been one good-looking son of a bitch.
Usually Jenny didn't pay much mind to a man's appearance. She just didn't think about men in terms of how they looked. But the cowboy had the same kind of eyes as Graciela, blue-green like the sea and fringed with soft brown lashes. Those eyes had been something to see, startling next to sun-darkened cheeks. Idly, she wondered how he'd gotten the black eye. It had started to go yellow so it wasn't fresh. He hadn't gotten it in the fight with Cousin Chub.
Miles rolled under the train, and her thoughts kept drifting back to him. The cowboy had the kind of tall, lanky physique that could mislead a person into thinking he might be more string than muscle. When Jenny first saw him, she'd half figured that Cousin Chulo, who was built like a beer barrel, would drop the cowboy after a couple of punches. But the cowboy's wiry form was all muscle, and he had staying power, by God.At the end, it was the cowboy who was still standing. Jenny grinned, remembering.
She wondered what the cowboy was doing this deep inMexico. That question led to a consideration ofher own situation.
Touching her fingertips to her forehead, she thought about her rig and the freight she'd been commissioned to haul back toEl Paso. Undoubtedly, her rig and cargo had been stolen seconds after her arrest. Mr. Comden would charge her for losing the load of bone buttons if she ever saw him again. She had to make sure that didn't happen. Good-byeTexas, hello somewhere else. It looked like her mule-skinning days were over.
To pass the time, she tried to remember what was inside the shack she'd rented inEl Paso, but couldn't recall anything she minded walking away from. A person like her didn't accumulate anything of much value. Unlike a certain prissy kid she knew, she was no fricking heiress.
Gazing out the window, Jenny watched a dry little village slip past the smoke-streaked pane. It was about as appealing as the cacti that surrounded it. Frowning, she looked down at Graciela's head in her lap and wished she could fall asleep that easily.
But her thoughts wouldn't settle down. Marguarita invaded her mind, and worries about the cousins, and the cowboy kept popping up too.
After a while, Jenny leaned to the bag at her feet, careful not to wake Graciela, and withdrew her battered dictionary. There was nothing like reading words to settle a fevered brain. Some of the definitions were like puzzles. They didn't make any more sense than the words did. She had to study them and ponder hard to work out the meaning. Many of the words she forgot almost as soon as she read them.
But other words sang to her imagination, and she said them over and over, charmed by the sound and wanting to commit them to memory.
Virile (vir-il) belonging to
Virility (vi-ril-i-ty) n. manhood.
"Virile," she said quietly. A soft word for a hard thing. Pursing her lips, she considered,then composed a sentence using the word. "The cowboy is virile."
Heat rushed into her cheeks, surprising her. Damned if thinking about the cowboy and virility didn't make her blush. Embarrassed, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. There wasn't a soul who knew her who would have believed she was capable of blushing, in eluding herself.
It was a damned good thing that she wasn't going to see that cowboy again. Yes, sir, a damned good thing. She was happy that she and the cowboy had parted ways. Glad that the odds of seeing him again were mighty slim. She sure didn't want to see any son of a bitch who could make her blush. No sirree bob, she didn't.
He'd probably
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