Taken by the Cowboy by Julianne MacLean

with
desire this morning. All he wanted to do was follow her home, carry
her upstairs to a bed – any bed would do—and plant himself firmly
and snugly between her thighs. Over and over and over.
    With a frustrated shake
of his head, he leaned against a post and watched the goings-on in
the street, while he kept an eye on Zimmerman’s.
    A few minutes later,
Jessica walked out and started up the boardwalk again in the other
direction. He expected her to turn up the street toward Maxwell’s
place, but instead, she turned down Second Avenue toward the bridge
and disappeared.
    Wondering where she was
going, Truman went into Zimmerman’s and approached the counter.
    "Morning Sheriff,” Fred
said. “Beautiful day."
    "Yep, it’s something
else. Tell me, did you just wait on a young woman, about so high
with dark, reddish hair?"
    "Sounds like you’re
referring to Junebug Jess. Pretty little thing, ain’t she? I don’t
believe a word of what the papers say. That girl wouldn’t hurt a
fly."
    "Yeah...well. What did
she buy?"
    "Nothing. She sold me
something."
    Truman’s eyebrows
pulled together in a frown. "What was it?"
    Fred reached into the
glass display case and withdrew a necklace. "I don't usually deal
in this type of thing, but I couldn't pass it up. Look at the size
of that diamond, and she sold it for a song."
    Truman examined the
silver chain and single sparkling stone. It was the biggest diamond
he’d ever seen in his life, at least half an inch in diameter. It
was no small trinket. Why was Jessica selling this? Something worth
that much money would have to be a family heirloom. Unless, of
course, it was stolen. Maybe this was what the gang wanted from
her.
    Had she lied about that
after all? Something tugged hard in his gut, and he wished he’d
never kissed her. It was only going to complicate things, because
he still wanted to do it again.
    "Thanks, Fred." Truman
walked out of the store and crossed the street.
    He spotted Jessica at a
distance, crossing the bridge and heading onto the open prairie
where the herds were grazing. Without a horse or buggy, she wasn't
going to get too far. There wasn't much out there except for
grass.
    Maybe she was going to
meet someone.
    Truman decided to
follow. He fetched his binoculars from his saddlebag, left Thunder
tethered at the water trough, then crossed the bridge, maintaining
a safe distance behind Jessica and crouching down in the tall
grass.
    About a mile outside of
town, she stopped and moved to the edge of the road. Truman scanned
the horizon for company, but saw no one, so he hunkered down behind
an old upturned wagon to keep watch.
    From where he was
kneeling, he could see her quite clearly through the binoculars.
She paced back and forth on the road, as if searching for
something. Truman lowered the binoculars and squinted through the
summer haze while insects buzzed all around him.
    After a moment, Jessica
trudged down a grassy bank into an irrigation ditch, then stretched
her arms out to the side and began to spin around. She ran in
circles, flapping her arms like a bird attempting to fly.
    “What the devil…?”
Truman raised the binoculars and watched her whirl and dance
around. She pulled her skirts up over her knees – she wasn’t
wearing any stockings—and hopped up and down like she was plum out
of her mind.
    Refocusing the lenses
on those suntanned, smoothly muscled legs, Truman’s hands turned
clumsy and he dropped the binoculars. Jessica continued to spin and
jump, and all he could do was stare.
    Just then, she stopped
spinning and staggered sideways. She toppled over and fell into the
grass.
    Truman quickly stood.
He remembered Dorothy collapsing....
    Gathering up his
binoculars, he took off in a full run across the prairie to reach
her.
    * * *
    Jessica lay flat on her
back, blinking up at the sky.
    Why hadn't it worked?
All she'd managed to do was make herself dizzy and give herself
another headache.
    She pressed her palm to
her forehead and