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Authors: Sabine Starr

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BOOK: Lady Gone Bad
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Chapter 8
“C
hinese fireworks!” Rafe dropped down beside Lady, taking cover from the onslaught of brilliant color and deafening sound.
Only one other time had he seen blue, green, red, and yellow ribbons and flowers streak into a night sky accompanied by bursts of what sounded like rifle fire. White smoke drifted upward, and he caught the sharp stench of burnt gunpowder.
The outlaws’ horses reared in fright, bucked off their riders, and thundered away from a sight that had to be as terrifying as a violent storm. The desperados were left on foot without rifles.
“Clever!” Rafe chuckled as he clasped Lady’s shoulder. She’d been smart to recognize spooking the horses would throw the outlaws into a tailspin.
Lady glanced at him, smiling as she picked up her burlap bag. “Bought us a little time.”
“Let’s go!”
As they ran back down the trail, light and sound faded to a few staccato bursts. He guarded her back, knowing he kept her alive only to take her to a court notorious for handing down stiff sentences.
She was a mystery, the kind a man could spend a lifetime unraveling, but he feared she wasn’t a woman to make old bones. If she ended up on the gallows, she’d take her mysteries to the grave. He hated the thought and his part in it. But she couldn’t be allowed to hurt innocent people. Maybe she’d simply be sent to jail for a good long while.
But that wasn’t his problem now. He had to live long enough to get her to Fort Smith. More importantly, he had to let Judge Parker and Marshal Boles know that one of their deputies was working both sides of the fence. Rafe had never liked or trusted Lampkin, not exactly bad blood but close enough. Now he knew why.
He glanced back down the trail, still dark and quiet. But for how long? They had to get in their saddles and get out of there. Fort Smith was too far away. As soon as possible, he’d head for Paris, where he could report Lampkin and send a telegram to Marshal Boles.
When they reached the spot where he’d tied their mounts, the horses were nowhere in sight.
Puzzled, he looked around, wondering if he’d missed the place, or something worse. “Tarnation. Think somebody stole our horses?”
“Jipsey’s not one for being tied.”
“Think she used her teeth to get free?”
“Either that or her hooves.”
He laughed outright at the idea. “One thing is for sure, you’re dang entertaining.”
“That’s what all the men tell me.”
He turned serious. The thought of rutting outlaws doing what he wanted to do with her made him mad as hell. “We need to get out of here.”
“Suppose Jipsey taught your horse, too?”
He rounded on her. “You’ve spun one yarn after another since I met you. Smoke and mirrors. Is nothing real about you?”
“You believe life is black and white, don’t you?” She put her hands on her hips, giving him a hard stare. “It’s not. Life comes in shades of gray.”
“Your world. Not mine.” He looked down the trail, irritated that she kept distracting him, challenging him, goading him. “We’d better walk if we don’t want to be caught. We can get those outlaws and our horses later.”
“I’d rather ride.” Lady put two fingers between her teeth and whistled three quick bursts of piercing sound.
Jipsey trotted out of a thicket. Justice followed.
Rafe just shook his head, figuring he ought to be glad the white ghost horse hadn’t pranced out, too. Some days a man had to go with whatever was put in his path and not question providence.
Lady stroked Jipsey’s nose. “Coming?” She put her boot in a stirrup and straddled the mare.
“Where’d you get fireworks?” He sheathed his Winchester and mounted Justice. “Saddlebags are for necessities only. Why the extra weight?”
“Payment for a job.”
“Not too many people keep fireworks lying around.”
“Guess I was lucky.” She headed Jipsey down the trail.
“That’s for sure.” He followed, realizing she wasn’t going to tell him more about the fireworks. Most likely outlaw trade. “We need to find a cave or somewhere to shelter and rest the horses.”
“Come dawn, they’ll track us. Wish it’d rain.”
“And wash out our tracks.” Now that he had a little breathing space, all his aches and pains, cuts, and bruises were hurting like hell. “Wish we had a hidden cabin with a soft bed and plenty of food.”
“Sounds good.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “You hit? Bleeding?”
“Bullet grazes.”
“Me, too. We need to take care of our wounds.”
“Get away first.”
He rode up close behind her, horse nose to horse tail. No good answers to their situation came to mind. All he knew to do was keep moving forward.
In the distance he heard a rumble that vibrated through the air, growing closer and louder. He glanced back. What now? He hoped the outlaws didn’t have a canon. Six-shooters and rifles were bad enough.
“Hurry!” he called. “They may be catching up.”
Chapter 9
W
hen the first fat, wet drops of rain splashed Lady, she hooted and hollered with glee. “That’ll stop those sidewinders in their tracks!”
“Can’t believe it,” Rafe said. “Night was filled with stars. Not a cloud in sight.”
“Maybe Jipsey and Justice did a rain dance while we were off shooting fireworks.”
“Guess a storm blew up from the south.”
“That’s one way of thinking about it.” She stopped Jipsey while Rafe rode up beside her.
He lifted his face to the sky, ran a hand through his damp hair, and then glared at her. “Only way to think about it.”
“You’re stuck in the mud. No imagination.” She glared right back, feeling so relieved that rain was washing away their trail that she was ready to strike out at anybody handy to release her pent-up tension. Rafe was annoying enough to fit the bill.
“I can imagine you standing in front of Judge Parker,” he snapped, his voice rough with irritation.
“Just what I said. No imagination.”
“Enough to catch the infamous Lady Gone Bad.”
“But not enough to know you’re caught as well.”
“I’m not. That’s your big head talking,” he said.
“Who’s leading who?”
“I can lead.”
“But can you take us to a warm, dry, hidden shelter with food for the horses and us?”
“You better mean that.”
“Did the horses do a rain dance?” she pushed, wanting him to let go of his expectations and step into her world of possibilities.
“Lady, you’re straining your luck.”
“Yes or no?
“Hideout, yes or no?”
“Horses, yes or no?”
“Tarnation! You could drive a man crazy. On the chance there’s food and shelter nearby, the dang horses could have done anything when we weren’t looking, including a rain dance.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he asked, wiping water from his face.
“Yes, I’ll take you to my hideout if you promise to stop talking about taking me to the Hangin’ Judge.”
“Okay. That’s settled. Now let’s get the hell out of here before we drown. Rain’s coming down cats and dogs.”
“Maybe a few possums, too.”
“Raccoons and beaver. Herd of crazy critters.”
She laughed, abruptly feeling lighthearted at his agreement, their banter, and the narrow escape. Maybe he was a man as well as a deputy. Somebody with a heart as well as a gun. He might even be a friend as well as an enemy. Time would tell. She just had to make sure they got that time.
Glorying in the rain, she felt the grime and fear and anger wash away with the slick mud and musty scent of the Red River that clung to her.
She was tired, so deep down tired her bones hurt. Aches and pains from the long ride, the graze of bullets, and lashes from branches rode her, relentless and inescapable. All she really wanted was a long, hot soak in a tub with plenty of soft lavender soap. Thoughts of a huge, sizzling steak, bison, deer, steer, she didn’t care, made her mouth water. She’d follow the meat with a piece of fresh baked apple pie or blackberry cobbler. Better yet, the whole pie itself. She could almost taste it all she was so hungry. She licked fresh rainwater from her lips, then tilted back her head and drank from the weeping heavens.
But she had to stay focused, or she’d never be able to find her hideout through overgrown trails. She kept a few places stocked here and there, always hoping no desperado or black bear found her caches. She never knew when her foresight might be all that stood between life and death.
As she peered into the dark, stormy night, she searched for signs to mark her way. Nothing obvious that might alert others, but a slash she’d left in tree bark or an unusual boulder.
Lightning flashed, followed by thunder that rumbled like a herd of running horses. Grateful for the light, she finally saw a large, familiar rock. She turned off the trail. Twisting and turning, wet branches and clinging vines slowing her pace, she continued until she grew unsure. In the darkness, visibility down to almost nothing, she was moving forward mostly by instinct alone. At least she’d led them off the main trail, so they were safer than they had been since the Bend.
She stopped Jipsey, looking around, trying to see through the heavy rain.
“Lost?” Rafe asked, riding up beside her.
“Need some light. Waiting for the next lightning flash.”
“Hope you’re not taking me on a wild goose chase, or planning to lose me in this mess of a night.”
Lady glanced over at him, felt more than saw him, and realized he was probably going against his lawman experience, deputy marshal training, and male instincts to trust her enough to follow her. But why? He’d been in trouble from the moment he met her. She guessed he still wanted to arrest her. But why did she keep helping him? Safety and strength in numbers, she supposed. Guilt, too. She’d set him up and her conscience wouldn’t let her rest till she’d gotten him to safety. After that, he was on his own. And she was free, as much as she ever was with images of death and destruction seared in her mind.
Lightning flashed, brilliant bursts of white light that revealed a slash she’d left on a tree trunk.
“This way.” She pointed east.
“Hideout better be near. I’m sloshing in my boots.”
“Near enough.”
She urged Jipsey into a thicket, pulling back branches, and then holding on till Rafe grabbed them behind her. If she’d let go, the heavy limbs would have knocked him out of his saddle. Part of the time, she had to ride bent over Jipsey’s neck to avoid low-hanging branches. It was slow going, creating a trail through the underbrush, but it was also the safest way to avoid detection. Between the downpour washing away their tracks and cutting their own trail, she doubted anybody could find them.
She peered hard through a curtain of glittering rain, clinging greenery, and lightning-split darkness. She finally made out the silver gray wood of an abandoned stagecoach station that she’d turned into a hideout. She felt weak with relief.
She looked back, grinned, and pointed at what was visible of the building through the overgrown bushes that protected it from prying eyes.
Rafe joined her, glancing around the area. “Safe?”
“Better go in loaded for bear.” She never entered a hideout without her Colt .44 drawn and eye at the ready.
He nodded. “I’ll check first.”
“I’m right with you.” She hoped everything was as she’d left it, prepared for her to hunker down until whatever storm was chasing her had blown over and forgotten her existence.
“Wait. One of us needs to be here in case there’s trouble.” He eased out of the saddle and splashed down into ankle deep water.
“I’ll go. I know the place.” She dismounted, too.
“Let me earn my keep.” He took several steps forward. Lightning flashed. “Is that a stable back there?”
“Ramshackle but usable.”
He tossed his reins toward her and drew his Peacemaker. “If you’ll take care of the horses, I’ll check the building.”
She caught the reins, exhaustion and pain washing over her in a giant tide that she’d held back by sheer force of will. Now that they were hopefully safe, she desperately wanted to let down and catch her breath.
Still, she watched Rafe’s back as he headed for the station’s front door.
Chapter 10
R
afe was glad to be out of the saddle and on the move. He’d had enough of following Lady, depending on her while knowing she could be leading him into a trap. He hoped she was telling the truth, but hope didn’t keep a man alive. Neither did trust. He’d check out the building before he even thought about letting down his guard.
He splashed through water, figuring the rain would cover any sound he made. He flattened his back against the rough wood near the door. He waited, listened, heard nothing suspicious, felt nothing contrary, so he reached out, twisted the white porcelain knob, and thrust open the door. He waited again, but still heard nothing. He leaped up, stepped over the threshold, and dropped to a crouch, senses stretched out to catch any hint of danger.
He waited, not moving, for the next flash of lightning so he could see into the dark depths around him. When light came, followed by rolling thunder, he made a quick inventory of the small, square room. A single rope bed covered by colorful quilts, one rocking chair, two straight-back chairs, one table with a lantern and a tin of matches on top, and a thick layer of dust. She hadn’t been there in a while. Neither had anybody else.
A second door led out back. Good thing, too. He hated to be trapped in a place without at least two exits. Remembering the layout of the room, he quickly crossed to the back door. He stepped to one side, flattened his back against the wall, and jerked open the door. He waited. Lightning flashed. He glanced out back, saw a stable, door sagging open. Place looked empty, too.
Satisfied, he turned back into the room. She’d tacked horse blankets over the front and back windows so nobody could see inside. Place smelled dusty and musty, but a moist breeze blew through the open doors, drawing in clean air.
He holstered his Peacemaker, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension as he walked to the front door. He stopped in the doorway. Lady and the horses appeared no more than shadows in the slanting rain. Even so, he’d been intent on her long enough that he could read the tiredness in the way she leaned into her mare.
Vulnerable.
Not an emotion he’d associated with her till now. He felt protective. He even wished whatever had set her on the outlaw trail had never happened. Felt like a fool. If ever a woman had chosen her way of life, she had to be Lady Gone Bad.
Still, a warmth uncurled in his gut, remembering her sassy smile in the saloon tormenting every man in sight, struggling to save her mare in the river, rising up like a clay goddess, every curve slick with red mud, and riding hell-bent for leather across the plains. Heat hit him like a thunderbolt. He grew hard as a bois d’arc log. Craved her. Didn’t do him a damn bit of good to imagine shucking off her clothes, running hands up her smooth bare flesh, feeling her wet heat on his tongue. But he did it anyway.
Might as well roll over and show his belly, let her see his eagerness like a stray puppy. He snapped off his thoughts. She wasn’t a woman for him, so no point in tormenting himself.
He had to keep his mind on business. He gave Lady a thumbs-up, and watched her start around the cabin with the horses.
Stepping outside, he let the rain cool his body, dampen his fever pitch to glowing embers. He figured a man never, ever lost his heat for Lady.
When Rafe felt more under control, he went back inside. He walked to the table, struck a match on a table leg, and lit the lantern, adjusting the flame as brightly as possible. Took the edge off the night. Made the place a little more hospitable. Like a rendezvous for lovers.
What he needed was a swim in a cold river, but he figured he was up the creek without a paddle. He might as well settle in for a rough ride and make the best of it.
He picked up the lantern and set it just inside the back door. They’d have some light, but not enough to give away their position while they bedded down the horses. He slogged over to the stable that had once housed enough horses to keep a stage line running from Missouri to Texas. With the Katy railroad now cutting across the Choctaw Nation to the west, much of the through travel went that way. Eastern Indian Territory still relied on local stages and horses to get from one point to another.
When he caught the sweet scent of hay and oats, he noticed that both horses had their noses stuck in feed buckets. “How’d you pull that rabbit out of a hat?”
“Keep oats in old pickle barrels. Hay bales in the loft.”
“Good idea.”
“Got a few places like this scattered about. I can go without food, but not my horse.” She rubbed Jipsey between the ears. “Empty barrel outside to catch rainwater, too.”
“Plenty tonight.” Lady might starve, but not her horse. He didn’t want to admire her, but he kept doing it anyway. Didn’t matter. Worst outlaw could have a few good points. If she had to hang, he’d be there to see her off to a better life, even if he felt like part of him was dying on the gallows, too.
“Let’s get this tack in the house.” Lady unbuckled Jipsey’s cinch, and then lifted off the saddle.
“Let me do that.” He wanted her to see he could be more than a burden. He reached out and tried to take the saddle from her. She resisted, pulling back. They tugged back and forth. “Lady, let go. I’ll curry the horses.”
“I take care of my own horse.” She jerked hard on the saddle, trying to free it.
“For once, let me do something to help.” He tried to wrest the saddle away, but she pulled against him. She was a lot stronger than a man would guess.
“Will you let go?” she hissed between her teeth.
“I’m trying to help.”
Lightning flashed overhead, close enough to almost set the stable on fire. Thunder cracked so loudly that both horses flinched, threw up their heads, and kicked back with hind legs.
Rafe jerked away from the flashing hooves, taking Lady with him as he sent them flying out from under the roof and into the yard. They landed entwined under the heavy saddle, water running in a steady stream around them.
All ceased to matter except Lady, so warm and wet and close. He caught her scent, sweet and tart. This time he decided she smelled like lavender and cinnamon. She faced him, breath warm on his cheek, long hair twined around his arm, a long leg nestled against his thigh. If he’d been hot before, now he was molten. Yet he felt tender, understanding her tiredness, worry, care for her horse. If he hadn’t tried to help, everything would be okay.
“I think,” she said, putting a hand between them and pushing weakly against his chest. “I got hit, kicked maybe. My head. I feel woozy.”
“Hell, I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry that she was pinned close to him, not thinking clearly enough to struggle. “Stay still. Let me get the dang saddle off us.”
“Don’t curse my saddle,” she said, words slurring. “Handmade special for me.”
“I’ll be careful.” He rolled his eyes as he hefted the saddle off her with one hand and tossed it into the water. He gently probed her skull for injury. Even though he should be thinking like a doctor not a lover, he took pleasure in touching her.
“Ouch!”
“Got a knot there. Probably getting bigger by the minute.”
“Let’s finish up . . . the horses.”
“For once in your life, you’re going to do what somebody else tells you to do.” He stroked down her head to her back, feeling her hot curves in sharp contrast to the cool rain on his skin.
“Horses first.”
“I’m taking you inside. I’ll deal with the horses.”
“No.” She raised her head, groaned, but sat up, using his chest for support. “Da always said, ‘Horses first, Sharlot, horses first.’ Mustn’t let him down.”
“Who’s Sharlot?”
“Slip of the tongue,” she said, pushing hair back from her face, teeth worrying her lower lip.
“But you said Sharlot.” Rafe sat up beside her, concern about her injury warring with his need to know more.
“Doubt it.”
“You did so.” He gripped her hand, delicate but strong, willing her to trust him. “Is that your real name?”
“I’m Lady Gone Bad, nothing more, nothing less. No past, no present, no future.” She jerked her hand back, turned away, and pushed up on her knees.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he heard anguish in her voice, maybe seen tears on her cheeks. But with the rain and the lack of light, he couldn’t be sure of anything. Except that he had to know more about her. “Sharlot?”
She looked back at him, no hesitation.
“Beautiful name,
Sharlot.
” Off guard, tired, injured, she’d given him an ingrained response to what must be her real name. “Suits you, too.”
“Lady suits me fine.”
“Let’s come to an understanding here. I’m Rafe. You’re Sharlot.”
“No. You’re Deputy. I’m Outlaw.”
“I don’t want to keep calling you Lady. I want to use your real name.”
“I want to get the horses fed and get out of this rain.” She stood up, swayed, regained her balance, and stood defiant on shaky legs. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll catch pneumonia and do the lynch mob’s job for them.”
“Best get you dry then.” He caught her by surprise, sweeping her up into his arms and heading for the back door. She weighed more than he expected, but on second thought, that wasn’t surprising for a horsewoman. She must be solid muscle under her soft, sleek skin. His heart pounded at the thought of her riding him until they both collapsed in sweat and satisfaction.
“Stop!” She hit his chest with her fists, and then groaned in pain, clutching her head. “Put me down!”
“You’re not doing your injury any good fighting me.” He strode over to the building. “Like I said, for once you’re going to listen to somebody.”
“Horses.”
“Trust me. I’ll take care of them.” He stepped inside the building, trailing water across the floor as he carried her to the rocker. He gently set her down.
She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. “Feels so good. World stopped spinning.” A slight smile touched her lips. “If I can just rest a moment, I’ll help you with the horses.”
“I told you that—” He stopped, realizing she’d fallen asleep, head nodding forward in exhaustion. Wet, hungry, hurt, she’d fought him to keep going, but her body had rebelled against her iron will. Good thing, too.
He’d let her rest while he finished with the animals. Soon they both had to get dry, get food, get some rest.
Yet his body didn’t care about that. Felt like he’d been poker-hard since the first moment he saw her. And his situation wasn’t getting any better. He’d be best off sleeping with the horses. Alone here, he’d be thinking only about getting her onto that rope bed.
He stepped out into the rain, hoping like hell neither band of outlaws knew about the hideout. At least nobody could read his mind and figure out he was a goner for Lady Gone Bad.
BOOK: Lady Gone Bad
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