Authors: Sabine Starr
Lady Gone Bad (4 page)
Chapter 6
R
afe reined in Justice on the rich soil of Indian Territory. Mud ran off his body and pooled around him in a crimson tide. He saw it through a red haze of fury.
afe reined in Justice on the rich soil of Indian Territory. Mud ran off his body and pooled around him in a crimson tide. He saw it through a red haze of fury.
Lady Gone Bad had tricked him again. All day long he hadn’t recognized the infamous outlaw. He felt like a fool. How had he missed her voluptuous body? Eyes like polished agate? Soft, scented skin? She was the damnedest outlaw he’d ever met.
Safely out of rifle range, he could hear steady fire from the bluff on the other side. The necktie party ranks had swollen to over a dozen men. They continued to spray the river with bullets, aim improving as they sobered up.
Only a matter of time before Lady and her horse were nothing but buzzard food. She was getting what she deserved after terrorizing law-abiding citizens and serving him up on a platter for a lynch mob.
A small voice of reason argued she’d come back for him, saved his neck, and gotten him to safety. He was a Deputy U.S. Marshal, not a vigilante. But his anger didn’t want to hear reason. His rage wanted sweet, swift revenge.
Lady’s mount was down. She wouldn’t leave the animal. Did she have some kind of death wish? Maybe she couldn’t swim. Pretty quick, the outlaws would decide to take their sport to the river. That’d be the end of her.
Gone. Forever. He felt his anger sizzle, as if doused by water, and go out. He’d hate to live in a world made poorer by her absence, particularly if he was to blame.
Punish her, yes. Kill her, no.
He plowed Justice back into the river, dodging bullets, zigzagging toward Lady. By the time he got there, she had the mare up. He grabbed her around the waist and slung her over his lap, facedown, not caring how uncomfortable he made her. He’d do whatever it took to get them out alive.
A thought flashed through his mind. He was living the dream of every man who’d heard Lady Gone Bad’s legend, who’d listened to her sing, who’d watched her strut, untouchable, through a saloon. She was at his mercy, stretched across his lap, her round butt fairly asking for it. He threw back his head and laughed, slapping her rump and feeling hard enough to bust out the buttons of his Levi’s.
Lady twisted around to look up at him. “Stop! Are you trying to get us killed?”
Rafe saw her clearly for the first time. No face paint or lip rouge. No teasing seductress. No pretension at being a boy. Instead, she revealed a depth and determination that took his breath away. Lady Gone Bad was a phantom. This was the real woman. She hooked him, so deep and hard it went straight to his gut.
“Jipsey!” she cried out, pointing to the mare. “Can’t leave her behind!”
This compelling woman hadn’t left him behind either. She was loyal to the bone, for man or horse. He wondered what it took to win and keep that rare kind of loyalty. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make sure she had her horse. He grabbed the mare’s reins. He looked back at the lynch mob to assess the danger.
Shocked, he blinked hard, almost unwilling to believe his sight. Deputy U.S. Marshal Lynch’em Lampkin stood with the outlaws, firing his standard issue rifle. Now Rafe knew the real reason the necktie party wouldn’t give up. If Judge Parker and Marshal Boles found out one of their deputies was working with desperados, Lampkin could kiss his job, maybe his life, good-bye.
They were in deep trouble, about as bad as falling into a pit of rattlesnakes. A lynch mob would eventually give up. Lampkin could never stop. They had to get the hell out of there.
Rafe set heels to horse, pulling the mare, and rode back into deep water. Bullets zinged around them, splashing into a river turned bloody red in the setting sun. For speed’s sake, he rode straight. If the sun didn’t drop like a rock below the horizon soon, their chances of getting out alive were slim. He drove hard toward the shore. A bullet stung his arm. Another grazed his shoulder. Lady groaned. He knew she’d been hit, too. No telling how many bullets their horses had caught, but they valiantly kept going.
All at once, the sun went down, making them shadows in a darkening world. The bullets slowed, then stopped. No point wasting ammunition. Shouts and movement came from the cliff. The outlaws were coming down, back to the hunt.
Rafe drove their mounts relentlessly through the dark water, pushing the exhausted horses to their limit. He heard the lynch mob plunge into the river behind them. A chill spread up his spine. Gunfire came again, hitting short and wide. But not for long.
One final push and the horses scrambled ashore, trembling with exhaustion, struggling for breath, lowering tired heads.
Rafe let Lady slide to the ground. He leaped down beside her.
Sunlight still touched the bank. He started to check her for wounds. She waved him away, pointing to the mare. She was right. If two had to ride one tired mount, they’d never make it. He checked the red chestnut, running hands over prime horse flesh. The mare felt sound, except for a grazed shoulder, maybe other slight injuries. He checked Justice, felt a bullet graze on a muscular hip. Somehow the lynch mob had missed killing shots at big targets.
When he turned back, Lady stood with hands on hips, her hat and vest gone, and her shirt and Levi’s plastered to her body like a second skin. Red mud covered her from head to toe, completely bronzing her. She looked like an ancient goddess come to life.
She might as well have been naked, with her long, shapely legs, slim hips, and breasts like two ripe melons. Good enough to eat. Her kisses would taste like lemonade, sweet and tart. He imagined her teeth raking his mouth, teasing and tormenting, urging him on. He wanted to plunder her body, lay siege to each plump, luscious curve with his mouth and hands, pull her down to the bank where he could drive hard and deep between her legs, bodies slick with red mud, sliding and grinding together until they exploded with fulfilled passion.
“Thanks.” Lady thrust slim fingers through her long, muddy hair. She smiled at him with pure exhilaration, teeth white and straight in the growing darkness. “We made it!”
For a moment he felt confused, his vision so intense that he thought she was thanking him for gratifying sex. He shook his head. Heart thudding hard in his chest, he knew how a rutting stallion must feel. She was as changeable and volatile as a prairie thunderstorm, but he liked a challenge. If she wasn’t an outlaw, he’d be a goner for sure.
They
had
made it, thanks to him. Lynch mob or no lynch mob, he wanted a reward. No glittering gold for him, just straight up, simple, hard-driving sex. Only one woman would do. After all, she owed him.
had
made it, thanks to him. Lynch mob or no lynch mob, he wanted a reward. No glittering gold for him, just straight up, simple, hard-driving sex. Only one woman would do. After all, she owed him.
Then, a shower of gunshots hit the shore, kicking up dirt, seeking soft flesh.
“Better ride,” Lady said.
Rafe felt lust seep out of him like a spilt glass of whiskey. No time now for anything but escape.
“Those bushwhackers ought to remember Lady’s ballad.” She started up the steep, slippery cliff, calmly leading the mare.
Grabbing Justice’s reins, he started after her.
Soon Lady’s sultry voice echoed across the Red River Valley as if the sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
She’s a wild woman, a renegade, a lady gone bad.
Rafe felt the magic of her song, an ancient power that raised the hair on the back of his neck. He was heading into Indian country where American rules applied only to a limited degree.
They better make sure not to ride alone.
The lynch mob stopped, rifles went silent, horses grew still, as if all the breath and will had gone out of them.
Rafe looked up at the top of the cliff. He expected to see Lady’s dark shape. Instead, a white mare reared and pawed the sky before setting hooves to earth and disappearing into darkness. He was reminded of the rearing horse on Lady’s boots.
He exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. Wild horse. That was all. He checked the sky. Not enough moon to make a difference. Maybe a campfire had illuminated the horse. Not likely. Taking a deep breath, he did what he always did when in Indian Territory. He accepted that not all was knowable.
When he reached the cliff top, Lady sat on her mount, waiting, watching, listening.
“Did you see that white horse?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Guess not.” Maybe he hadn’t seen the mare either. “Lynch mob stopped.” He swung into his saddle, checked to make sure he had his Colt and Winchester. “But they’ll be coming after us.”
She turned away from the river.
“Hold it.”
She looked back.
“Ma’am, you’re under arrest.”
She laughed.
Chapter 7
“A
bout time you were brought to justice,” Rafe said, pulling handcuffs out of his saddlebag.
bout time you were brought to justice,” Rafe said, pulling handcuffs out of his saddlebag.
Lady put her right hand on the Colt .44 hugging her hip, but doubted the pistol would fire after her swim in the river. She figured he knew it, too. Still, she had a knife in her boot, come to that.
“Easy or hard makes no never-mind to me.” He held out the cuffs. “Good thing I carry a second pair. I’ve got a key.”
“You’d have better luck if you traveled with the usual team of deputy marshals, cook, and covered jail wagon.” She straightened her shoulders, sitting up higher in the saddle. “As it is, you’re fresh out of luck. I’m
not
going in easy.”
not
going in easy.”
“Warrant stipulates bringing you in, dead or alive.” He held out the handcuffs. “Snap them in front so you can ride easier.”
“Damn the Hangin’ Judge. Thinks his word is law.”
“It is. No petition goes to a higher court.”
She shivered, imagining how the rough rope of a hangman’s noose would feel around her neck, followed by a hard drop into empty air.
No.
She couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to get justice for her parents, but time was running out.
No.
She couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to get justice for her parents, but time was running out.
Rafe rattled the handcuffs. “Let’s get a move on.”
Jipsey shied to the side, sending unease rippling up through Lady. She glanced down at the dark ribbon of river below, then back at him. “You’ve got bigger trouble than me.”
“We’re out of range and reach if we keep moving.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure—” She stopped her words in mid-sentence as a single pinpoint of light flashed in the north, three equal times. She glanced down at the river. Light answered, three more times.
“What is it?”
“Hell and damnation!” she hissed, turning Jipsey east. “Got to get out of here.”
“Not so fast—”
“Didn’t you see the signal lights?” She pointed north, then south.
“Friends of yours?”
“If they are, they won’t be once I’m caught helping you.”
“I know outlaws keep lookouts and send signals all over Indian Territory, but this appears too convenient. Did you set a trap?”
She snorted. “Stay if you want and discuss the matter with the night. I’m gone before I’m caught between two outlaw bands.”
As she drummed her heels against Jipsey’s sides, she saw him quickly tuck the handcuffs back in his saddlebag. The mare exploded from standing to running, and she left him behind.
Lady reveled in the power of a blooded horse between her thighs and a wild wind against her face. But she knew Jipsey couldn’t keep going at top speed, not after the long, hot day.
As she raced toward scrub brush and the distant tree line, she heard the hooves of Rafe’s horse pound a staccato beat behind her. Soon he matched her pace, side by side, flying through the night. She glanced over at him. Danger made her blood run hot. His, too, from the look of him. She grinned. He threw back his head and laughed. Fine pair they made. Separated by law. Bound by peril.
She looked back. Half a dozen outlaws were eating up the distance, most likely on fresh mounts that could run them down. She’d counted on even odds with the lynch mob, but now the odds were on the other side. She hated trying to win from a down position.
Still, she never counted on easy or fair. Some days you had to create your own luck if it didn’t fall your way.
When they made scrub, she hit a narrow trail that wound back toward trees that grew along a creek emptying into the Red River. Blackberry vines hooked her Levi’s, and then tore loose. She caught the scent of overripe persimmons. As she slowed Jipsey, she let the mare pick her way through any hidden dangers such as armadillo holes in the ground or downed tree limbs that could cause a horse to break a leg.
Lady watched the sky, a sooty gray broken by the black silhouettes of ancient trees. Thick with limbs and heavy with leaves, the tree line created a sky road that ran north, deep into Choctaw Nation. Squirrels and birds used the upper road. Indians, too. But she was horse-bound and could do no more than use the trees as camouflage.
Alone, she had a better chance of losing the outlaws. Two horses and two people were harder to hide. The last thing she needed with her was a lawman set on escorting her to Judge Parker, infamous for hanging Indian Territory outlaws. Yet they were a long way from the court in Fort Smith, Arkansas. She’d find an opportunity to lose Rafe along the trail. For now, she had to find a way to keep them alive.
No place to run, not with tired mounts. No place to hide, not with outlaws hot on their trail. Too dark for an ambush, not that she wanted to kill anybody by picking them off from the bushes or hurt horses by pulling a taut rope across the trail to trip them. Outnumbered, and riding spent mounts, they were getting into more trouble by the moment.
She turned in the saddle and glanced back. The outlaws hadn’t made the cutoff into scrub yet. No sign of the lynch mob either. Now was the moment to fish or cut bait.
When she brought Jipsey to a halt, Rafe rode up and stopped beside her. She pushed back her hat and looked him in the eyes. “Any ideas?”
“I’m wracking my brain. If we don’t get off this trail, we’re sittin’ ducks.”
“You’re used to backup.”
“With enough deputy firepower, we’d get those desperados under control.”
“I’m used to going it alone.” She nodded in the direction of the outlaws. “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.”
“You plan to sing?”
“If I thought it’d help, I would.” She dismounted, letting the reins dangle to ground tie Jipsey. “Don’t know if this’ll work or not, but it’s worth a try.”
“I’m ready for a good plan. Need help?”
“Hold the horses. They may spook.” She opened a saddlebag, rummaged around inside, and pulled out a small burlap bag. “Better keep them facing north.”
“Come dawn, we could play hide and seek. Use our Winchesters from a distance.” He leaped down and picked up Jipsey’s reins, holding both mounts side by side.
“I’d hate to leave a trail of dead outlaws. There’d be reprisals. And I’m not sure we’ll make it to dawn.”
“Let’s try your plan first.”
“If something happens and I don’t get back, I’ll trust you with my horse.” She swallowed hard, pushing down pain that tightened her heart at the idea of leaving Jipsey and not finding Copper. “She’s a fine mare.”
“Tarnation!” Rafe jerked his Winchester from its saddle sheath. “I’m not sending you into danger alone. Horses be damned.”
“We need them if we’re going to stand a chance of getting away without a bloody battle. Those outlaws know they’ve got backup coming. Once that lynch mob gets here, they’ll have enough rifles to cut us to bits.”
“I’ll tie the horses to a tree.”
Maybe this was her last chance to see Rafe, or maybe she wanted one final time before throwing herself into danger again. Either way, she took a moment to watch as he led the horses off the trail. Cast in gray light and dark shadow, he appeared long, lean, and dangerous, like a cougar on the prowl. She felt a sudden hunger, a shift in her soul, a nameless longing. Maybe she’d been alone too long. But he wasn’t the man for her. He was a man to escape as quickly as possible. And yet, she wished with him she’d come up aces.
For a long time now, longer than she could ever have imagined, she’d worked best alone. She wasn’t sure anymore if it was by choice or necessity, but she didn’t need or want his help. Still, she remembered a time when a shoulder to cry on and a warm, comforting hug had been the cornerstones of her life. Gone now. All gone. Forever.
She’d be well away before Rafe finished with the horses. He’d be safer there. She tossed the burlap bag over her shoulder, holding it steady as she quietly jogged back down the trail.
When she neared the end of the brush line, she knelt and crawled on her knees until she could see the open plain of high grass that stretched to the Red River. No movement in that direction. But when she looked west, she saw dim shapes and heard the outlaws coming fast. They took dangerous chances by pushing their horses in the darkness.
No time to lose. She felt her heart beat a fast staccato as she dropped the burlap bag to the ground. When the sound of hooves striking ground grew closer, she slipped off her gloves and tucked them behind her gun belt. She gently pulled delicate objects out of the bag. She laid the various shapes and sizes across the beaten path that led from plains to thicket. She arranged the objects in three rows, larger in front and smaller in back. Finally, she pulled and prodded fuses into easily accessible positions.
Taking a deep breath, she moved behind the largest bush near the trail. She remained close enough to touch a horse’s hoof should an outlaw get that far. She reached into the burlap bag and pulled out the last object, a tin of matches. She opened the tin, perfect for keeping matches dry no matter the weather, and selected three matchsticks. She closed the tin and put it in her pocket. She held the matches, phosphorous tips upright to stay dry, and waited for the desperados.
As the pounding of hooves shook the ground with impact, she struck a match across the bottom of her boot. Cupping the small flame with her palms, she knelt over the objects directly in the path of the oncoming horses.
The fire fizzled out. Shocked, she looked up, saw the huge, looming shapes and heard the harsh breath of laboring animals. Yet she couldn’t let the danger stop her. She struck another match, cupped the flame, and leaned down almost flat against the ground. She quickly lit first one fuse, and then another.
Hoping against hope not to get pounded into the earth, she struck the last match. With shaking hands, she lit fuses until the first object exploded into the starry night.
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