Chapter 33
“L
ookin’ for trouble?” Rafe asked, voice a rough growl.
“Think I found it?” She pressed his growing erection, and felt an answering response in her own hot depths.
“What do you think?”
“Not sure.” She looked mischievously into his smoky eyes. “More proof?”
“Always happy to oblige a lady.” He leaned over and set his mouth to her lips, nibbling, licking, and then pushing deep inside.
She moaned as she returned his kiss with escalating fervor, massaging his rigid shaft while a fiery, moist ache built in her center.
When a crow gave a raucous cry overhead, both mounts stamped hooves, bridles jingled, and saddles creaked.
Spell broken, Lady pulled back to look at Rafe’s angular face, all smooth, tanned skin with a slash of dark mustache. Gray eyes hot with desire. Full lips moist and puffy with kisses. Strong pulse rapid in his throat. She knew she looked much the same as he and felt shaky with unfulfilled passion.
“Much more and we’ll be putting on a show for free.” Rafe glanced around the area as if expecting to see an audience.
She looked, too, but for the moment they were alone aside from the uninterested wildlife.
“Might be the last time for a while.” He turned back to her.
She nodded in agreement.
He rode Justice to the side of the trail, leaped down, dropped the reins in a ground-tie, and then walked back to her.
“You planning something special?” she asked, teasing him.
“Wouldn’t want you to get out of practice.” He held up his arms to help her dismount.
She hesitated, wanting him but wanting to be practical, too. She had to get ready for her show. The Hayes Brothers had made it clear that a big group, probably her largest audience yet, waited for her to perform.
She inhaled, caught his unique scent of sage and leather, and was completely lost to desire. Practical be damned. She needed and wanted him more than anything else. She hooked a leg over her saddle horn, and then slid down into his arms. He pulled her hard against him, body to body, letting their tension thrum in unison, building hotter and wilder.
“Make it quick,” she whispered in his ear, hardly able to form words in her passionate haze.
“Any way you want it.” He wrapped strong fingers around her hand. “Let’s leave the horses here to graze.”
She plucked off her red hat and hooked it over her saddle horn, ready to go.
He tugged her after him as he pushed through tall grass, around bushes, climbed up a rocky rise, and around a bend. He leaned her back against the thick trunk of an ancient pine tree and pressed hot kisses to her lips as he fumbled with the waistband of her split-skirt.
Dragging her hands from around his neck, she swatted away his slow, clumsy fingers, and quickly unbuttoned her skirt and drawers. Unable to wait a moment longer, she started on the buttons of his Levi’s, but stopped cold. “French cap?”
“Hell and damnation!” He jerked away from her, reaching into his back pocket. “Just a minute.”
She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes, impatiently waiting for his touch, acutely feeling her desire burn hotter, intensely knowing only he could satisfy her.
“There!”
Putting large hands around her waist, he jerked down her skirt and drawers, kicked them aside, lifted her up to straddle his hips, and then drove home in one swift movement.
She cried out at the sudden invasion, the hot, hard length melding them together, and clung to him, arms around his shoulders, legs tight around his hips. He pumped like a rutting stallion while she gripped with her inner muscles like a mare in heat, giving him thrust for thrust, heat for heat, a slick, hot ride that drove her to the edge. And over.
He caught her moan in his mouth, thrusting with his tongue as he thrust below with his shaft. His own groan mingled with hers as they gripped each other in a final spasm of mutual ecstasy.
Rafe held her close a long moment, breathing hard, then gently set her down. She leaned back against the tree, so weak and limp she could hardly stand upright as her heart pounded fast in her chest.
“No other men.” He gestured toward Robber’s Cave. “No matter how many throw themselves at your feet.”
She wondered how he could think she’d want or need anybody else except him. Not after that demonstration of his prowess. A cool breeze wafted across her naked skin and she shivered, feeling acutely vulnerable. She stepped into her drawers and skirt.
“Tell me what I want to hear.” He pinned her with molten steel in his eyes as he buttoned up his blue jeans.
“We have a bargain. No men but you.”
He nodded, a quick snap of his head, and pulled up her drawers and split-skirt as if to make certain no other man touched her.
While she tied and buttoned, she got her breath back under control. She felt satisfied and lazy, not wanting anything more than to snuggle with Rafe, sitting on soft pine needles under the tree. But now was not the time.
“We’d better go.” She wanted to say more, but resisted the urge to let him know that she was coming to care too much for him.
He smiled, a sensual quirk of one corner of his mouth. He held out his hand.
She clasped his warm, strong fingers, and let him lead her back the way they’d come. As they moved toward their horses, hands joined, she felt something odd. Instead of closer now, she felt as if they were drifting apart. Bargain or no bargain.
“When I get you settled in your tent, I’m going to scout around. Get the lay of the land in case we run into trouble and need to make a fast escape.”
Now she understood. He was turning back into a lawman. Hot anger turned passion cold. “Don’t you dare cause trouble. You’re here as Fast John, nothing more.”
“I know—”
“If you go nosing around these outlaws and they get a whiff of lawman, we’ll both end up six feet under. Maybe Burt and Bob, too.”
“Give me a little credit for having some sense.” He led her down the last bit of rough ground to the horses. He stopped and looked at her. “Remember, we’re here to get leads. I’m hoping to find Lampkin. With enough proof, I can put him away.”
She squared her shoulders. “I know why we’re here, but I need to make money, too. When I put on that crimson gown, I’m Lady Gone Bad, and I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“I will, too.”
She put on her hat and tugged it low. She put a foot in Jipsey’s stirrup, swung up into the saddle, and looked down at him. “Burt and Bob will help me now. You go ahead and see to your own business.”
Without waiting for Rafe’s response, she set heels to the chestnut’s sides and thundered down the trail. Even as she put distance between them, she felt too much of her heart stayed behind with her lawman.
Chapter 34
R
afe let her go. No point in riling Sharlot any more. They both had jobs to do. Better get on with it. He ought to feel lucky. How many times in a man’s life did he get a chance with a woman like Lady Gone Bad? Scarcer than hen’s teeth. But instead of feeling lucky, he felt like he was losing her to a bigger world than he could ever offer her. He hated the feeling. But no point in dwelling on it. He had no chance to control Lady, but he had a chance to find Crystabelle and Lampkin. That’s where he must focus now.
As he mounted Justice and headed down the trail, he already felt his body craving a woman he . . . well, liked, admired, lusted after. Anything but thinking he might be in love with Sharlot. She could just as easily ruin his life as save it. No, love didn’t enter into it. They rode opposite sides of the fence. They had a bargain to help each other reach their goals and meet their needs. Nothing more.
With her firmly in place, at least in his mind if not his body, he kept watch for trouble. All seemed peaceful enough as he crossed the low water bridge on Forche Maline Creek and followed the trail that climbed sharply up toward the northeast. He heard voices, laughing, arguing, talking, as he wound his way through dense, green undergrowth.
When he came out on a wide, flat plateau, Robber’s Cave clawed up into the sky like a gray top hat to tower over the entire valley. Sheer rock cliffs formed the sides of the mesa. Tall pine, oak, and other trees nestled around the sides, giving the appearance of bushy green whiskers.
No wonder outlaws used the place. From Lookout Point on top, a man could easily see for miles around in every direction. Nobody would catch him unawares. Plus, Robber’s Cave was dang hard to reach, so that made it even more ideal. Not surprising lawmen had never caught a single desperado here.
In front of the mesa, grass and shrubs had been cleared to make a wide open space that was now filled with people. They were a rough-looking bunch, sporting six-shooters and hunting knives, fringed leather and rough cotton, cowboy hats and tough boots. Women in colorful clothes wound their way through the groups of men, offering food and whiskey, maybe more. Sitting on tree trunks and smoking tobacco, a number of men focused on poker games.
He glanced around for Lady’s tent, but didn’t see it. He figured the Hayes Brothers had found her some privacy. She was probably resting before she changed clothes for her performance. Burt and Bob had better not be playing lady’s maids, or they’d get an earful at the least. He’d find her later. First he wanted to scout the area.
As he headed for the base of the mesa, he checked out every woman he passed, hoping she’d turn out to be Crystabelle. He didn’t care how far his sister might have fallen since she had been kidnapped. One way or another, he’d get her back on her feet. He also kept an eye on the men, but he wondered if Lampkin would be so bold as to appear here, taking a chance on giving away his double life.
When he walked up to the base, he saw the infamous cave, wide mouth yawning dark in the shape of a triangle, point down. Only way to reach it was across a wide expanse of downward sloping flat rock slab. Dangerous. But once inside, an outlaw had a good hideout, a snug place out of the weather, and another defensible position. Even looked like the slab in front was concave enough to catch and hold rainwater. Man could hole up there for a good, long while. The cave looked deep, too, drilling back into the mesa. He’d like to explore, but he didn’t have time.
Instead, he glanced up and saw Burt standing on Lookout Point. He waved to get attention.
Burt saw him, and then gestured down at the cliff face.
Rafe looked where Burt pointed and saw a crude set of stairs, mostly natural rock formation, leading to the top. He quickly started the climb, using rock indentations as handholds till he stepped up and over the edge.
He’d found Lady’s tent. Set back in one corner, the small white tent couldn’t be seen from below. It was a perfect location for her to change to fancy clothes and not tear or dirty them trying to climb up. He started toward the tent.
“Wait!” Burt said, holding up a hand in warning. “We’re letting Lady rest before she changes. Nobody disturbs her.”
“Not even me?”
“Fast John, for sure not you.”
“See your point.” Rafe nodded. “She’s okay?”
“Right as rain.” Burt gestured around him. “Bet you never saw nothing like this.”
Rafe gazed out over a green panorama that turned hazy purple in the far distance. “Beautiful country.”
“You bet.” Burt stepped closer. “Lady’s singing from up here.”
“Is it safe?”
Burt appeared shocked, even offended. “Wouldn’t let nothin’ happen to her.”
Rafe nodded, realizing she’d probably climbed up here plenty of times.
“Folks can ogle her. Hear her good, too. Natural anteater.”
“Ant . . . amphitheater?”
“What she says.” Burt smiled, white teeth flashing. “Go on down in back and take a gander. Stone corral sure do beat all.”
“I’m heading there now.”
“Hurry up. Lady’ll want you front and center.”
Rafe made his way across the top, watching his footing so he didn’t stumble across loose rocks or fall into deep crevices. A few twisted evergreens clung to the surface and he used them for support. Taking one last look at the breathtaking scenery, he started down a slope that was more dirt than rock.
At the bottom, he faced broken boulders and a thick forest, so he took a narrow trail that wound around the base of the mesa toward the front. He dodged huge rocks jutting up from the ground and discovered a narrow entry into what had to be Stone Corral.
Sheer rock walls rose straight up into the sky and enclosed an area perfect for a horse corral. All an outlaw would need to do to pin animals inside was to close the open, narrow side, probably with timber or other rocks. He looked around, impressed by the solid walls and soft, sandy floor. When he noticed a natural cleft in the wall, he checked and saw stone steps leading out. He followed them around and down to the front of Robber’s Cave.
He glanced back. If he hadn’t seen Stone Corral for himself, he’d never have known the hidden area was there. But he’d remember. If he ever tracked a horse thief back here, he’d know exactly where to look.
With the sun descending in the west, casting long shadows across the mesa, Rafe knew Lady would be singing soon before the light was gone. He started to go wish her luck, but decided he ought to leave well enough alone.
Running out of time, he looked for Crystabelle, but he hadn’t gone far when he heard somebody call his name. He glanced up and saw Bob motioning to him, so he walked over there.
“Looks like Lady’s in good hands,” Rafe said. “If I can be of any help—”
“Got it under control.” Bob jerked his head to one side. “Over there. Viking and Angel. I’ll take you to meet them. After that, I gotta run.”
Rafe didn’t want to bother, but he remembered the role he was playing, so he tried to look interested. “So, is she a looker or not?”
“Fast John,” Bob said, grinning ear to ear. “Huckleberry above most all persimmons. Lady excluded.”
“Got to see her then.”
Bob zipped around and moved fast for such a big man. Rafe trailed in his wake, keeping an eye out for Crystabelle.
When Bob quickly stopped, Rafe almost ran into his back. He couldn’t see anything around the broad shoulders.
“Viking and Angel, this here’s Fast John.”
Rafe had to peer around Bob to see the couple.
The Viking was seated on an upended slice of tree trunk, legs spread wide. Long hair, bleached almost white by the sun, hung about his broad shoulders, a feather tied Indian style at the crown. He turned blue eyes the color of the sky up at Rafe, saying nothing as he judged the newcomer. The Viking wore nothing but a leather fringed vest that showed off heavily muscled arms and shoulders with massive thighs outlined by leather trousers. He appeared more savage than any Indian Rafe had ever seen.
The woman known as Angel knelt at the Viking’s feet, her face buried against his knee, hands clinging to his leg. She wore a simple red skirt and a white blouse unbuttoned low enough to show cleavage. Long, wild hair about Rafe’s own sorrel color flowed down her back and obscured her face. She looked a hell of a lot more devil than angel.
Bob stepped back. “Fast John’s got good stories out of Tombstone.”
“Not better than mine,” Angel muttered, not looking up. “I got kidnapped and sold. Now I’m a slave to this big brute.” She pinched the Viking’s thigh.
He covered her fingers with a large hand. “She’s a storyteller.” His deep voice carried the lilting cadence of a Northman.
“Am not. Did you or did you not buy me?”
“Bought you. Freed you.” The Viking shrugged, rolling his eyes at the men watching them. “Shouldn’t feed a hungry dog. Follows you home and won’t leave.”
Angel slapped his shoulder with her free hand. “I’m not a dog!” She tossed back her hair and looked up at Bob. “Don’t forget your promise to introduce me to Lady Gone Bad. She’s my hero, along with Belle Starr.”
“I will all to pieces.” Bob winked at Rafe, and then hurried away.
Rafe stepped up into the space left by Bob and saw Angel’s face for the first time. He froze in absolute shock and astonishment.
He’d found Crystabelle.