The Promise of Jenny Jones by Maggie Osborne Page A

rhythm of the town unfold, while she fought to control the panic boiling in her stomach.
    She felt as helpless as she had felt sitting in her jail cell waiting to be executed.
    Then Marguarita had appeared and calmly offered Jenny her life in exchange for a promise. Jenny had given her promise, her solemn word, and Marguarita had died; Marguarita had kept her end of the bargain.
    A stream of cusswords blistered her tongue. Marguarita's part had been easy, all Marguarita had to do was die. Dying was a fricking piece of cake next to dealing with this kid.
    A huge sigh lifted Jenny's chest.
    If anything happened to Graciela, she might as well put a gun to her head and pull the trigger. Her life wouldn't be worth crap if her promise meant nothing, if she failed the woman who had died in her place.
    Acid poured into her stomach, and she felt like throwing up. Leaning a hand against the café's adobe wall, she dropped her head and swallowed repeatedly.
    All right. She knew two things. First, there was nothing she could do for the next several hours, nothing at all. Graciela was on her own, in the hands of God or whoever. Jenny had to accept that she was helpless to intervene; there was nothing she could do except hope like hell that the damned kid was lucky. Second, she knew where Graciela would be atseven o'clocktonight. That is, if Graciela continued to be as resourceful as it appeared she was, then Jenny knew where the kid was going. Please God, let the little snot be there atseven o'clock.
    Straightening, she drank the rest of her coffee,then tossed the cup to a waiter. She needed food, but her stomach was cramping so badly that she doubted she could hold anything down.
    Walking aimlessly, staring at each urchin she passed, she gradually settled her mind into accepting what she could not change. The best plan was to keep busy. Do the things she had planned for today before the fricking kid ran away and made her age ten years. That included buying boy's clothing for thekid, and a sidearm for herself. These chores would take about an hour.
    This was going to be the longest day in her sorry life.
    * * *
    "Now aren't you the prettiest little thing."
    Even the man's voice was hot and oily. His breath in her face smelled of chilies and cigars and something sickly-sweet that made Graciela think of liquid flame. His eyes frightened her badly.
    "You're hurting me," she whispered, wiggling beneath the fingers clamping her shoulder. Darting a look toward the street, she realized that no one paid them any attention. Near the door of a leather store, a man backhanded a boy, and the boy shouted in pain. No one glanced in his direction either.
    Heart thumping in her chest, she dragged her gaze back to the man kneeling in front of her, blocking her way. One hand gripped hershoulder, the other circled her ankle and slid up her bare leg to her knee.
    Shock stiffened her body. No man had ever touched her so intimately, and she knew instinctively that it was very wrong.
    "Would you like to come with me, chica? We'll have some food, something cool to drink."
    "No." Her mouth was as dry as the desert air.
    "Light skin, light eyes." The man's fingers inched toward her thighs and Graciela's stomach lurched. "We'll make a fortune together." A speculative gaze dropped to her mouth and he licked his lips.
    With sickening clarity Graciela understood the man meant to do something bad to her regardless of her protests. She stared at his thick neck and wide chest and black dots of fear swirled in front of her eyes.
    Panicked, she tried to think what to do. What would Jenny do? Jenny wouldn't meekly give up; Jenny would not let this man put his hot hands on her.
    Pretending that she was Jenny, Graciela turned her head and bit down on the man's forearm. She held on until she tasted blood. At the same time she kicked out with her free leg and felt her heel strike something soft between his thighs. He shouted, and they both fell to the ground, rolling toward the