“Lady Gone Bad can whip her weight in wild cats.” Burt thrust out his chest.
“Right now she’s catawamptiously chawed up.” Heck hooked his thumbs in his gun belt.
“She’s a huckleberry above your persimmon,” Bob insisted.
“Lady is an all-fired, lick-spittle, ass-backward, gol-derned, pisspot, strumpet adventuress.” Pecos Pete tucked his thumbs under his armpits and looked proud of his description.
Everyone else gaped at him in astonishment. Outlaws muttered across the room.
“Nobody talks about Lady that way.” Burt reached back with a clenched fist and hit Pecos Pete square in the nose, blood spurting. Pete dropped to the floor and lay still.
Heck leaped forward, but Bob popped him in the head with a meaty fist and Heck dropped down beside Pecos Pete.
Face twisted in fury, Zip went for his six-shooter. Rafe drew first, flipped his Peacemaker over, and cold-cocked Rankin with the butt of his gun. Zip went down hard and lay still.
Lady looked at Rafe in admiration. “Guess that put the
fast
in Fast John.”
“Thanks.” Burt clasped Rafe’s hand. “He had me and Bob in his sights.”
“Make ’em think twice before insulting Lady,” Bob said. “Or throwing down on us.”
“Appreciate the support.” Lady motioned toward the door. “But we’d better get out of here before they wake up, or their friends—”
Several outlaws descended on them, cussing and swinging fists, as the room erupted in shouts and fights. Friends of Zip Rankin slugged it out with Lady’s defenders. Burt and Bob laid in with their fists, knocking bodies about as they made a path toward the doorway for Lady and Rafe.
They were halfway across the saloon when somebody grabbed Rafe by the ankle and jerked him down. A knife flashed. He felt a slash burn his ribs. Another body piled on top of him. He struggled to get free. Felt another cut. He heard Lady scream. Hit a man senseless and sat up.
Next thing he knew he smelled smoke. Place was on fire. Somebody must have upset a lantern. Burt and Bob were holding their own, laughing as they knocked heads together, but smoke dimmed the saloon. He had to find Lady and get her to safety.
He saw her at the bar, tossing Crowdy gold eagles. She threw the lamp in her hand onto a pile of broken furniture. Flames shot up. She gave Crowdy a handshake, and turned to the doorway.
Rafe blinked in astonishment. He never knew what Lady was going to do next. Didn’t matter. He had to save her. He leapt over several bodies, dodged a fistfight, grabbed Lady’s hand, held on tight, and made for the exit.
“Everybody out. Now!” Crowdy shouted.
Dazed outlaws went on hitting each other.
Crowdy shouted again, firing a blast of his shotgun into the ceiling. “Get out now!”
There was a stampede for the door.
“Quick!” Lady said. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll watch your back.” Rafe drew his Peacemaker.
They ran for it.
Lady swung onto Jipsey’s back, throwing him the reins to Justice. He caught them and swung up on the gelding’s back. They thundered into the darkness, Lady in the lead.
Behind them, orange flames licked up into the sky, turning night into day.
He urged Justice faster.
Chapter 23
“Y
ou almost got us killed.” Lady drew in ragged breaths, so angry she could hardly see straight. By moonlight, she guided Jipsey off the trail at a huge lichen-covered rock that jutted up from rocky ground, marking the path to Medicine Spring.
“I almost got us killed?” Rafe said in amazement.
“You cold-cocked Zip.”
“He was about to recognize me.”
“But he’ll have it in for you now. Me, too.”
“He didn’t see me.”
“Somebody did and they’ll tell.”
“Maybe not. Lot of confusion.” Rafe rode up beside her, voice tight, back rigid, hands clenched. Justice shouldered into Jipsey, causing the mare to dance sideways. “You started the fire.”
“Saved your sorry hide.” As Jipsey sidled back toward Justice, Lady felt her boot brush against Rafe’s leg. A sensation like liquid fire, maybe anger, raced away from the spot. Yet it wasn’t anger. To her surprise, the feeling defused her fury.
“You burned down Crowdy’s saloon,” Rafe said.
“Place was a tinderbox and I paid him.”
“No need.” Rafe slapped reins against his thigh and struck her, too. “I was holding my own.”
She flinched, angry again. “Against a saloon full of outlaws? And Zip?” She jerked Jipsey’s reins to get distance from Rafe, the intensity of her emotions causing the mare to buck.
“My kind of odds.” He glanced at Jipsey. “Looks like your horse knows more than you do.”
“She doesn’t like the smell of smoke.”
“Then you better get cleaned up. You reek to high heaven.”
“Thanks so much,” she said sarcastically, patting Jipsey’s neck to calm the mare. “If I hadn’t set the place on fire, we’d probably be six feet under.” She caught the acrid scent of smoke wafting from her clothes, cursing his truth.
“Too bad we were still inside.”
“Gave them something to think about besides you and the Hayes Brothers, didn’t it?”
“They didn’t care about me. It’s all about you.” He glared at her while Justice sidled back to Jipsey, causing boot to rub against boot. “You need every man drooling over you, don’t you?”
“Jealous?” she taunted. Staying mad at him was all too easy when he made remarks like that.
“Trying to keep us alive.”
“If you were doing that, you wouldn’t watch me like a hawk and let every outlaw I interview know you’re spoiling for trouble.”
“Interview! Snuggling up to desperados doesn’t look like interviewing. It looks like—”
“Enough!” She threw him a disgusted look, feeling the heightened emotions and fast heartbeat that came on the heels of a close brush with death. “I’m doing what I have to do.”
She rode over to Medicine Spring, a pool of water known for its curative qualities, nestled in a cascade of rocks surrounded by thick greenery under tall trees. A sharp medicinal scent swirled from the mist rising over the water into the night air. She felt the shelter of trees enclose and protect her. Moonlight transformed the water into liquid silver.
She glanced around the area, looking for any dangerous animals that might have come to drink water. All appeared safe. She listened, as she had since they’d left the Boggy Saloon, for pursuit. Nothing, so far. Not too many people knew about the spring. More Indians than Americans. She felt her shoulders relax. “We should be safe here.”
“Dang, it stinks!”
She sighed. “Medicine water.”
“I’m not getting in that stuff.”
“It will help heal your wounds.”
“Or kill me.” He flashed a big, white grin, eyes dancing. “A real lady would kiss my injuries and make them better.”
“A real lady wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
“I’ve been known to spend a day or two with a lady.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes full of mystery and mischief about what he meant.
“Just a day or two?” she teased, unable to resist his naughty grin.
“That’s all it takes with me.”
She laughed, enjoying their banter even though she was trying to stay mad at him. “Maybe I better have a word with those ladies.”
She slipped a leg over the saddle horn and slid down, catching her weight with both feet. She pulled Ma Engle’s pin out of her pocket and tucked it in her saddlebag. She unbuckled her gun belt, hung it over her saddle horn, and then leaned back against Jipsey to pull off one boot and then the other, stuffing her socks inside. Finally she wiggled her toes and felt the night air cool them.
Felt wonderful. She wished she could shuck all her clothing, but Rafe was watching and somebody might be trailing them.
After Rafe dismounted, they led their horses down to the pool to drink. She wanted to get into the water and ease her aches and pains, but animals always came first. When Jipsey was full, she led the mare over to the tree line where grass grew tall and green. She slipped off the bridle and hung it over the saddle, so Jipsey could easily eat. Rafe followed with Justice.
Now she could take care of herself. She hurried over to the water, eased down the slippery bank, and then curled her toes in the soft, warm mud, feeling it draw tension from her body. She hadn’t been here since the last visit with her parents, but she wouldn’t think about them now.
When she reached the shallow muddy side, she knelt to bury her hands in the healing mud, feeling a slight tingling move up her arms into her shoulders to ease accumulated aches and pains. Needing even more, she pushed up her sleeves and rolled up her Levi’s, and then rubbed handfuls of mud over her bare skin. She sighed with pleasure as she lay down, rested her head against the bank, and let all her worry and fear and anger melt down into the earth.
“Dirty girl.”
She glanced up at Rafe, eyes half-closed, too relaxed to bother to reply. As he walked to the edge of the pool, he tried to pull off his shirt. She could tell the fabric stuck to his wounds.
“Hurts like hell.” He glared at her. “Save your life. This is how you thank me. Stinking water.”
“Who saved who? You ought to thank me.” If he was to receive the benefit of Medicine Spring, he needed help. “This feels great. The water is so warm.”
She slipped into the deeper end toward him, and then emerged, mud sliding down her body in a gush, wet clothes plastered to her, revealing every curve and valley as if she had risen straight from the earth.
Rafe stopped, frozen at the sight of her, and then eagerly stepped forward. His boots sank into mud. He looked down, looked up, and grimaced. “Stinking water. Muddy boots.”
“Time for you to get dirty, too.” Dripping on him, she grasped his shirt, stiff with dried sweat and blood, slit from several knife cuts, and slowly undid buttons, letting the backs of her cool, damp fingers brush against his bare flesh. He felt hot enough to start a fire, or ignite one in her.
“Dirty sounds good,” he said, voice rough and husky as he stood still in front of her.
“Buttons can be so pesky.” She moved upward, freeing another button, seeing more of his chiseled chest, feeling his heat cascade over her.
“Right lady makes them easy.”
She glanced up at his face, wondering if she was the right lady as her fingers stilled on a button, hands nestled against him. She felt springy chest hair and shivered at the sensation.
“Lady, you can unbutton me any time.” A slight smile teased the corner of his sensual mouth.
“I might just need your help with buttons myself sometime.” She reluctantly unbuttoned the last one, and then slowly pulled open the front of his shirt to reveal his bare chest.
“Now?”
With one fingertip, she gently touched the raw, red circle around his neck, knowing it must be painful. “Now we better take care of your wounds.”
He shrugged out of his shirt, frowning with pain, and roughly tossed it aside. Naked from the waist up, his hard muscles appeared sculpted out of stone. Tall and lean, he stood with the unconscious grace of a predator, a mountain lion or a gray wolf.
Taking a deep breath, she wondered if Rafe knew he looked like the answer to a maiden’s fervent prayer. He was that, truly, but much more. They’d ridden hard together and survived danger. For now, they were bound together by a quirk of fate, each desperately needing the other’s help. But it didn’t make them friends. Lapsed enemies, perhaps.
From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d felt an almost irresistible sensual tug, as if he’d lassoed her. She’d fought that feeling with anger, deception, and power plays, but he’d kept reeling her closer till she’d burned for want of him. Now she felt irritated, all her senses heightened by their narrow escape. She wanted to give back some of his tender torment.
“I’m sorely in need of a woman’s touch.” Rafe ran a single fingertip up her wet shirt sleeve, and then tipped her chin so she’d look at him.
“Can’t get your boots off?” she asked, voice low and sultry.
“I’d appreciate your help.”
“We don’t want your wounds getting infected.” She pointed at the bank. “Sit down. I’ll start with your boots.”
“I’ve better places you could start.”
“Do you now?”
“You bet.”
Shaking her head, Lady gave him a little push and nudged him back until he sat on the bank.
He held out a foot, smiling mischievously up at her. “After my boots, there’s nothing left but my Levi’s.”
“How many buttons on them?”
“Just enough for you.”
She knelt in front of him, slipping slightly on the muddy bank, and grasped his boot in two hands. “You know we wouldn’t be here if you’d minded your manners.”
“They were messing with my woman.”
She snorted. “I’m not your woman. We were playing roles.” She gave a hard tug and his boot popped free. She tossed it onto dry land behind him.
“Role or no role, I’m happy to take care of you.” He reached out, gently nudging long strands of hair behind her ears. “Fire singed your hair. Here in front. You smell like fire.”
“You smell like smoke just as much as me.”
“More. You’re fanning my flames. Want to put out my fire?”
She tossed her head, ears burning where he’d touched them, and her dripping hair fell away from him. “I want—”
His eyes lit with hope and he touched his lips with the tip of his tongue, as if already tasting her.
“Your other boot.”
“Sure now?”
“Boot.”
He nodded, bracing his hands in the mud and raising a long leg as he held up his right foot.
She tugged, but the boot didn’t budge. She pulled harder, but still the boot stuck tight. She stood, bent over, put all her weight into it, and tugged as hard as possible. The boot came off with a snap, jerking him forward and sending her back. She slammed into the water, felt its warmth close over her, and came up gasping for air as she found the bottom of the pool with her feet. She pushed hair back from her face, opened her eyes, and tossed the boot onto the bank.
Rafe was struggling to sit up, covered in mud except for his head.
She laughed at the sight, not ladylike at all, but big guffaws that exploded from her chest in waves. She felt as if all her pent-up frustration and worry and fury were rolled into one, released by ridiculous laughter that would not stop. Might never stop.
“Don’t laugh at me. Not funny. You did it on purpose,” he said, his voice rough with repressed laughter. He grabbed her arms, dragged her up out of the water to him, but slipped in the mud on the bank, taking them both down. They rolled across the bank, limbs twined together, gathering mud as her laughter filled the night.
Rafe stopped their movement and held her tightly against him, slick body pressed to slick body.
Tears burned her eyes. Breath caught in her throat. She hiccupped.
He rocked her, murmured comforting words. “There, that’s better. We’re in this mess together.”
Laughter died in her throat. Had she been running, always on the move to outdistance her mess of fear, anger, and pain? She hated the idea. Hated him more for making her witness her own weakness. She jerked away. “Back there at the Boggy. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” She stood up, anxious to get away, get back in control.
“I’m not letting you off that easy.” He clasped her hand and jerked downward.
Thrown off balance, she slipped in the mud and fell against his broad chest, pushed up, fingers sliding across slick muscle, feeling him tense, his breath catch in his throat. All her pent-up emotions came pulsing out to her fingertips, making them so sensitive that she felt as if she were touching right to his very core as she explored his chest, drawing spirals in the mud as she reached each hard tip of nipple. He groaned.
A deep sense of satisfaction, power, and need swept through her, igniting her body. She twined a leg across him, felt his hard, hot reaction to her, and rocked against him, desperate to relieve the ache in her molten core, desperate for him to feel the same torment.