Chapter 4
R
afe felt like a chicken trussed up for market. He bounced along hard enough to break every bone in his body, not to mention losing his ability to ever again please a lady. Or himself. He was so damn mad he wanted nothing more than a chance to settle the score, but first he had to stay alive.
For some reason, a boy had come to his rescue. It rankled. He was the one who rescued people, not the other way around. But he was thankful.
Justice felt sound beneath him. He hoped the gelding hadn’t been hurt by the lynch mob. He’d hate to lose Crystabelle’s recent gift to him. The gelding had been left with a note by an unknown party at the courthouse in Fort Smith. If the horse was an outlaw joke, he wasn’t laughing. But if Justice meant his sister still lived, he was grateful.
Rafe shifted in the saddle, getting a better grip with his knees. The noose felt like an anvil on his neck and shoulders. The handcuffs bit into his wrists. Knife wounds leaked blood. Battered but not out.
He’d survived enough fights to know his height, strength, and quickness gave him an edge, but he hadn’t been prepared for the noose. He’d figured he would fight his way out of the Red River Saloon with a few cuts and bruises. He hadn’t counted on the Bend wanting to send a message to lawmen by stringing up Deputy U.S. Marshal Rafe Morgan.
He’d been warned to take backup. But no other deputies had been available. He’d been warned Lady was crafty as a fox. But he’d figured he could handle one little lady on his own. He’d been warned the Bend was her playground. But he’d had to see it to believe it. Now he wished he’d heeded the warnings.
Punished by the hot sun overhead, he felt as if his brain was cooking to jerky. He fought the numbness in his knees and thighs by stretching as much as he could. He was dry enough to drink a river. One thought kept him going. He would personally put Lady Gone Bad behind bars.
If they kept riding east, they’d reach Paris. He could get help there at the courthouse from Bill Phillips, U.S. Marshal for the Eastern District of Texas. All they had to do was stay ahead of the necktie party.
Horse-wise, the odds were in their favor. He rode a good mount. The kid sat easy on the back of a dark red chestnut that looked built for speed and stamina. But he had to figure the odds against them, too. Trussed up, he was slowing them down. If the kid was an outlaw, maybe he wanted a deputy to owe him one. On the other hand, the boy might be leading him straight to another outlaw gang. For now, he couldn’t do anything but trust the kid and hope to come up aces.
He glanced back. The lynch mob wasn’t giving up. He could see their dust cloud, gaining ground all the time. At this rate, they’d never reach a safe haven. If he could get rid of the noose and handcuffs, he could guide Justice and move faster.
“Hey,” he called, his voice cracking with dryness. “Stop. Free me.”
“Cave ahead.” The kid gestured at a bluff. “Get us out of sight.”
Relief poured through him like a river, washing to the surface all the aches and pains he’d been holding at bay. He hurt like a house afire and needed to get out of the saddle fast.
Soon the boy led their horses out of the bright sunlight into the shadow of a small cave, dismounted, and untied the lasso.
“Thanks.” Rafe coughed out the word, then cautiously stepped down from the gelding, felt his legs buckle, and sat down hard on his butt. “Free me quick.”
“Aim to.” The kid started working on the noose again.
Rafe forced his body to remain still, but he wanted to rip off the rope with his teeth. He felt a pat on his shoulder from the boy’s gloved hand.
“Gotta cut you loose.”
“Do it.” He waited impatiently, knowing the necktie party was getting closer every moment.
He glimpsed a sharp knife before he felt sawing on the rope, back and forth. Hurt like hell, but he didn’t care. When the knife finally cut through stiff fibers, the blade pricked his raw skin. Again, he didn’t care. All that mattered was his relief when the noose was finally jerked over his head and tossed to the ground. He took a deep, satisfying breath and stretched his neck in relief.
“Cuffs now.” The kid lifted a small packet out of his saddlebag. He squatted down beside Rafe and unrolled a blue cloth bag to reveal a row of picklocks, each in a separate cloth noose.
Rafe watched a gloved hand select a pick. The boy had long fingers, slender wrists. With a few deft movements, the lock clicked open. Rafe jerked off the cuffs, tossed them down, and then rubbed circulation into his raw, swollen wrists.
The kid quickly rolled up the picklocks, replaced them in his saddlebag, and brought back a canteen.
Rafe poured water over his face, took several deep gulps, and sighed in satisfaction. He wet his bandanna and tied it around his neck to cool and protect his raw, sore skin.
“Better get,” the kid said, motioning toward the horses.
“Thanks.” Rafe held out his hand in introduction. “Name’s Rafe.” Something about the boy seemed familiar, but he couldn’t see much in the dim light and the kid kept his hat pulled low. “Rafe Morgan.”
The boy turned over Rafe’s hand and put cornpone and jerky in it.
“I can’t take your food. Bad enough I drank your water. Put you in danger.”
“Eat it on the run.” The kid picked up his canteen and headed for his horse, looking like he wore his older brother’s clothes.
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.” Rafe grabbed his handcuffs and the noose, tossing them into a saddlebag. No easy trail left behind. “What the hell kind of town lynches the law?”
“The Bend.” The boy swung up in his saddle like he’d been doing it since birth.
Rafe mounted Justice. “A low-down, conniving polecat set me up. When I catch her, I’ll take her to the Hangin’ Judge.”
The kid set off down the trail without reply.
As Rafe followed, he gnawed at the cornpone and felt his mind click into gear. Details kept him alive. The boy carried picklocks. An outlaw’s tool. Cowboys could be overly proud of small feet and fancy boots, but this kid took the cake. Gunslingers wore fancy boots like the boy’s hand-tooled design of a rearing horse silhouette, crisp white against blood red. The kid was young, but folks grew up fast in the West. There were lots of ways he could get his own money.
All in all, Rafe couldn’t trust the boy. But he owed the kid for saving his neck. He felt responsible for getting them both into trouble. Rafe was better off in Texas. If the boy was an outlaw, he’d do better in Indian Territory. Might be safer for them both if they parted company.
First, they had to get rid of the lynch mob.
“You got a name?” he asked.
“Kid’ll do.”
Rafe glanced over at the boy’s delicate profile. He was struck by a sudden idea that, like the last piece of a puzzle, put everything into place.
Maybe, just maybe, this clever boy was a girl.
Chapter 5
L
ady wished the lawman hadn’t said his name.
Rafe.
A name was powerful, too personal to share quickly.
A gift of spirit.
She preferred people know her as Lady rather than by her real name. Ma and Da had trained her not to give up anything easy, especially her name, when she might end up with nothing but that name, good or bad. They knew about losing everything, but they’d started over and worked hard together. Always together.
She blinked back tears as she stopped Jipsey on the edge of the cliff above the Red River. Rafe halted beside her. She pushed down her rising emotions. Some days she felt so tired she simply wanted to join her parents in their final resting place on a peaceful hilltop. But justice drove her onward.
“Justice,” he said, patting the gelding’s neck.
Startled for a moment, she thought he’d read her mind.
“Easy boy.”
She realized the honey chestnut was his justice. She had a much different kind in mind.
The Red River was no friend today. She’d watched for an easy place to cross since dawn. But after recent rains, the river ran high and wide, lapping over sandbars on the way to Louisiana where the clay-reddened water cut south to join the mighty Mississippi River.
Now that the sun was setting in the west, she had to cross. No choice. She couldn’t chance the river after dark. Dusk offered protection. She’d be able to see, but the lynch mob couldn’t hit their targets so easily in dim light.
“We better get going,” Rafe said.
Lady indicated a beaten trail to the river. “I’m headed down. Lynch mob’ll tail me.” She pointed down the road. “You can make Paris tomorrow.”
“What if they catch you or wing you?”
“I’m fast.” She kept her face hidden in the shadow of her hat, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her face or voice.
“I’ve seen better crossings.”
“Out of time. Dark soon.” She didn’t understand why he seemed so reluctant to ride away.
“Two guns are better than one.”
“Why risk it?” She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t take the easy, safe way out of their situation.
Rafe pointed back at the dust cloud dogging their tracks. “You saved my life.”
“Make it count. Go to Paris.”
She set heels to Jipsey and started the slippery descent down the winding dirt trail. She rode under the green branches of pine, oak, sweet-gum, bois d’arc, and other trees. She ducked low so as not to be swept out of her saddle. She caught the sweet scent of wildflowers. Birds stopped singing as she passed under their perches.
When she heard Rafe follow, she cursed under her breath. Why hadn’t he taken the easy way out? She fumed as she rode. He was nothing but trouble. Now he seemed intent on being a gentleman who wouldn’t let a kid go alone into danger. Felt he owed a debt. What were the odds? A rattler held nothing on a maverick lawman. No telling what he’d do if he discovered her true identity. She had to lose him somewhere in the Red River Valley.
At the bottom of the cliff, she let Jipsey pick her way into the current, trusting the mare to know the best way to cross. As they splashed deeper into the river, muddy red water quickly rose up to the chestnut’s belly. Dead leaves and branches swirled around them. A musky scent filled the air.
Lady heard Rafe’s horse enter the water behind her. She urged Jipsey up onto the first long sandbar. Noisy flocks of birds wheeled overhead, gathering for nighttime retreats. Sunlight cast dark shadows across the burnished river.
“Hurry!” Rafe shouted as he rode up. “They’re above us.”
Shocked, Lady glanced back. Men with Winchesters, at least a dozen, were lining up along the cliff’s edge, taking aim as the dying rays of the sun winked on gun barrels. How had the outlaws gotten there so quickly? She’d thought she had more time to get away.
“We’re not out of rifle range!” she called, judging the distance with a practiced eye.
“Zigzag!” He gigged Justice forward, cutting back and forth across the sandbar and into the river.
Lady kept pace, counting on their staggered pattern and the fading light to protect them. A shot whizzed past her head, whining like an angry bee. Bullets peppered the water, kicking up small red geysers. She ducked and stayed low in the saddle, urging Jipsey forward. Rafe’s gelding pulled away, faster and stronger against the current.
She glanced back at the bluff. Three men were down on their knees, bracing their rifles, narrowing their shots. She desperately needed to get out of rifle range. She urged Jipsey faster.
At the next sandbar, she saw Rafe glance back, slowing his horse to wait for her. She waved him ahead to the far shore, wanting one of them to make it.
Out of the water, she made a bigger target and knew it. She plunged back down, staying low on Jipsey’s neck. She was covered in red mud, a slick mess that made staying in the saddle a challenge. She clung to both saddle horn and reins, gripping the mare tight with aching knees.
When she heard Epona give a warning cry in her head, she knew trouble had found her. A moment later, a bullet slammed off Jipsey’s saddle, scored a red path across her shoulder, and she went down.
Lady leaped clear of the saddle, losing her hat in deep water. A strong undertow pulled her beneath the surface. She swallowed too much muddy water. She fought her way back to the top, spitting out water and gasping for air. She swam against the current, struggling to regain the sandbar.
She feared Jipsey might be dead or badly injured. But the mare stood on the sandbar, trained to remain calm under fire. Rafe’s horse, saddle empty, stood beside her. But he was nowhere in sight. Had he been hit and fallen in the river?
She had to get back to help, but the strong current kept pulling her farther away. Bullets peppered the river all around her. She stopped swimming and tread water to use less energy. The cloth that bound her breasts had slipped down around her waist, getting in her way. She jerked on it, managed to pull it loose, and let it float away. Somehow, she had to reach the sandbar before her strength ran out.
Suddenly strong hands grasped her around the waist. She yelped and struck out, fearing an outlaw had grabbed her.
“It’s me,” Rafe said. “You’re okay.”
She felt relief, but then horror. What if he realized she was a woman, much less Lady Gone Bad? She had to get his hands off her, but she needed his help more.
“Got to get out of here.” He glanced up at the bluff. “Grab my shoulder.”
She gripped hard as he plowed through the river, drawing her beside him. Muscles rippled under her fingers as his arms slashed through water. She was acutely aware of him, dark hair wet and sleek, strong shoulders broad and muscular, long body taut and powerful.
When he reached the sandbar, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to shore. Cradled against his chest, she felt safe, protected, emotions she’d given up so long ago. But she wasn’t safe. He was her enemy. And they were under increasing fire.
“Put me down!” She struggled to get away before he realized the truth. She felt his hands slip, slide over the round globes of her butt, the curves of her breasts, the slick surface of her skin.
“Female, like I suspected.” He froze, appearing puzzled as he searched her face.
“No!” She struggled to get free, desperate to stop where his mind was taking him.
He rubbed the beauty spot below her mouth with a rough thumb, his puzzled expression giving way to understanding.
She knew he knew. And bit his finger.
“Lady!” he spat out in fury.
She squirmed in his arms, trying to get free, but he held her tighter as he turned back.
And dumped her in the river.