The Promise of Jenny Jones Read Online Free PDF Page A

here with you!"
    This was exactly the situation Jenny had feared. Frowning, she shifted from one foot to the other, running a dozen solutions through her mind. She could knock the kidunconscious, throw her over the horse's neck, and go. She could hog-tie the kid, stuff the gloves in her mouth, and go. She could do just about anything except leave without the kid.
    The woman's dark eyes burned in the darkness, scorching Jenny's face. Marguarita had told the woman and the kid that dying was her choice, Jenny knew this, but both of them seemed to place the blame squarely on her.
    Pursing her lips, she inspected the lightening sky. In minutes, the sun would drift above the horizon. She wanted to be far enough away by then that Graciela would not hear the fusillade of gunshots from the camp. Jenny didn't want to hear them either.
    She stepped up to the woman and gazed into her accusing eyes. "I want to be far away before the sun comes up. Do you get my meaning?" She jerked a thumb toward Graciela.
    The woman leaned to one side and spit near the hem of Jenny's skirt. She glared hard,then bent to take Graciela's shaking body in her arms. Soft crooning sounds sang in her throat.
    "Remember what your mama said? Dry your tears, little one. ThisAmericanais going to take you home to yourpapa."
    "She killed my mama!" Sobs slurred the words, but Jenny heard them clearly enough. She ground her teeth and clenched her fists. She wanted to smack the kid for wasting time.
    "No, no, little flower." The woman eased backward, smoothed a strand of silky brown hair beneath the edge of Graciela's stylish little hat. She sent a murderous glare in Jenny's direction,then managed a smile for the child. "Remember? Your mama was dying slowly. Now, she will join the angels swiftly and without pain. She will be happy as she was not happy on earth."
    "She'll join those angels very soon," Jenny reminded the woman, giving the sky a meaningful nod. "Graciela? Get your butt over here. We're leaving. Now."
    The woman half led, half pulled Graciela toward the horse. "TheAmericanawill take good care of you," she promised in a soothing tone. Her hot eyes warned that if Jenny harmed a hair on Graciela's head, she would hunt Jenny to the ends of creation and eat the heart out of her chest.
    Jenny flexed her shoulders,then stared down at Graciela. She didn't know how big a kid of six was supposed to be, but the feather atop Graciela's hat reached only to Jenny's chest. To her, the kid looked like a large doll dressed in miniature adult clothing. Aside from the fashionable attire, Jenny couldn't identify much of Marguarita in her daughter.
    The kid had brown hair instead of black, and her skin was a shade lighter than Marguarita's. Most startling, Graciela had not inherited her mother's large, soft brown eyes. Graciela glared hatred through eyes that were as blue-green as the sea. She had received her mother's patrician nose and cheekbones, but the rest of her face must have come from her father's side, the family of the sainted Roberto. The stubbornness, Jenny suspected, was Graciela's alone.
    Feeling that something more needed to be said to get Graciela's butt on the horse, Jenny bent until her face was on a level with the kid's.
    "All right, you hate me. I don't like you either. But we're stuck with each other. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, but—" How had the woman put it? "Your mama has gone to join the angels. Your daddy is all you got left, and I promised your mama that I'd take you to him. And you promised your mama that you would go. She told me so. Isn't that right?"
    Tiny gloved fists scrubbed at Graciela's eyes. "I don't want to leave Maria or my great-aunt Tete or my cousins."
    "Well, you have to. You'll be safe and happy with your daddy." Jenny didn't have a fricking notion if she was telling the truth or not. She hated that. "Most important, this is what your mama wanted. You and me … we both promised her that you'd go."
    They glared at each other