Page 12 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
What happened next caused an abrupt silence so profound that the insects in the trees sounded as loud as buzzards, and Ty heard the slap of clothing against the rocks in the stream, a sound too distance to be audible until now.
The thug swaggered up to the mother and daughter, and he backhanded the mother, knocking her to her knees. For a minute it looked as if he would strike her with his fist, but he hesitated, glanced at the people silently watching from the platform. Then he tossed the daughter up on his shoulder and started toward his horse. No one moved.
“You fricking bastard!”
The mother launched herself from the ground as if she’d been hurled from a catapult. Flying forward, she caught Cousin Luis around the knees, and he went down with a surprised and furious shout. The daughter flew out of his arms, hit her head on a rock, and went limp on the ground, dazed.
Neither the mother nor Cousin Luis noticed the daughter. The mother sprang on top of him, and started hammering away, doing her damnedest to break his nose with her fists. It was the most astonishing thing Ty had ever seen. Cousin Luis tried to buck her off of his chest, but she was stuck like a burr to his vest until he flipped on his side. Then they rolled in the dirt, slugging and kicking like two men, except the mother was hampered by her skirts and petticoats.
Ty was so thunderstruck that he didn’t move until he heard the women on the platform sucking in their breath. The hissing sound galvanized him. He wasted one second looking around, then accepted that no one was going to interfere. No one was going to help the woman.
He spit on his hands with a curse of disgust. What kind of yellow-belly stood by while some puffed-up son of a bitch beat the hell out of a mother? He didn’t care if Cousin Luis was a relative or not. If someone didn’t stop him, he was going to kill the red-haired woman.
By the time Ty reached them, they were both on their feet. The woman threw a right, missed the thug, and her fist glanced off Ty’s jaw. Jesus. He staggered backward a step. If she’d connected squarely, she would have laid him out in the dirt. This wasn’t quite the mismatch he had initially supposed.
“Behind you,” she shouted, then returned to hammering at Cousin Luis.
Ty whirled in time to deflect the fist of another man, who was gut ugly and determined. He had half a second to note the man’s resemblance to Cousin Luis, then they were into it.
Twenty minutes later, he pushed wearily to his feet and stood swaying over the sprawled figure of his opponent. Hoping he had enough energy left to finish Cousin Luis, he lifted his head to find the man.
The mother didn’t need Ty’s help. She was standing over Cousin Luis, panting and gulping air, staring hate down at his unconscious form. She had a bloody rock in her hand.
Ty stumbled toward her, sucking mouthfuls of searing midday air into his aching lungs. He prodded Cousin Luis with the toe of his boot. The man was going to sleep for a long time and wake up with the worst headache of his brutish life.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked when he could speak. “Whoareyou?”
She’d lost her hat in the fight, and short red hair was sweat-plastered to her head. Her cape had disappeared, and her shirtwaist was dirty and pasted tight to her skin by perspiration. Ty stared. Good God. She’d been hiding an awesome figure under that cape. She wasn’t small, but God had arranged her in absolutely perfect proportion. He dragged his eyes up from breathtaking breasts and studied her face. He found himself wishing he’d taken a closer look at her when she wasn’t dirty and sweating and cherry-faced from fury and exertion.
“You’ve got a cut on your cheek,” he said, staring at her. And she was going to have a black eye to remind her of Cousin Luis. “Ma’am, I have to say this. You are one hell of a fighter.”
She put a hand on his chest and pushed him backward, sudden panic flaring in her blue eyes. “Graciela!”
The daughter pulled to her feet with a dazed expression. She touched the back of her head, looked around, then wobbled forward and fell to her knees. “Cousin Chulo!” Stricken eyes darted to Cousin Luis, then back, taking in the two unconscious men. She burst into tears, flung a look at the mother, and shouted, “I hate you!”
The mother nodded grimly, then lifted on her toes to look Ty square in the eyes. The experience was a new one. Not many women could look a six-foot-three man in the eyes. Maybe she was closer to six feet tall than he’d originally guessed. He forced himself to hold his gaze on her face and not let it slide down to those magnificent breasts.
She held his eyes, seemed to consider, then admitted, “We’re having a goddamned family problem here.”
He laughed, liking this tough woman who refused to let a man hit her without fighting back. Ty suspected old Cousin Luis would give it a second thought before he hit another woman.
“So it appears,” he said, grinning at her.
“Cousin Chulo over there messed you up some,” she stated, inspecting his face. Until she mentioned it, he hadn’t noticed the blood dripping down his chin. He swiped at it with the back of his hand. “I’m thanking you, mister.” She thrust out her hand, and he gripped it in a hard shake. “I don’t know what I’d a done when the second one showed up. I’m glad you stepped in. Much obliged.”
“It was my pleasure, ma’am,” Ty said, meaning it. “It’s a privilege to lend a hand to a fellow American.” They’d moved into English about halfway through the brief conversation.
People had begun to drift off the platform, boarding the train, looking back at them over their shoulders. The woman stepped away from Ty and moved hastily around Cousin Luis and Cousin Chulo, picking up her hat, her cape, a heavy fabric traveling bag. When she had everything, she strode toward her daughter. Curious, Ty followed at a distance.
“We’re leaving now. We’re taking that train.”
“No!” The child threw herself across Cousin Chulo’s chest. “I’m not going!”
“Yeah. You are.” Grim-faced and grinding her teeth, she grabbed the daughter by the arm and dragged her to the steps leading into the train. “Where’s this train going?” she demanded, glaring into the conductor’s eyes.
“The next stop is Hermita,Señora.” The conductor stepped backward as if he feared that she’d take him on next.
“Where’s that?”
