Authors: Sabine Starr
Lady Gone Bad (9 page)
Chapter 18
F
or once, the Red River came up aces. As Rafe glanced down from the bluff above, midday sunlight burnished the river crimson. He checked their back trail, remembering their past wild ride. This time was different. No necktie party. No raging water. No deadly bullets. And nobody followed them.
or once, the Red River came up aces. As Rafe glanced down from the bluff above, midday sunlight burnished the river crimson. He checked their back trail, remembering their past wild ride. This time was different. No necktie party. No raging water. No deadly bullets. And nobody followed them.
He glanced over at Lady. She held her chin high in determination. He felt the way she looked. Come hell or high water, they had to achieve their goals. No choice. No turning back. No second chances.
He was glad to be riding on a good night’s sleep and a full stomach. They’d given the peppermint sticks, plus some coffee and sugar, to the kind couple for their hospitality. After that, they’d rearranged what was left of their purchases into feed sacks and tied them over their saddlebags. He wished they were traveling lighter, but they’d probably need the stuff they’d bought in Paris before all was said and done.
At dawn, they’d crossed into Indian Territory near the Boggy River, which meandered across one corner of Choctaw Nation to empty into the Red River.
Lady wanted to follow the Boggy north to Clear Boggy Creek. He let her lead, but it didn’t sit well with him. He knew his way around, but not into outlaw hideouts. He felt uneasy depending on her. For that matter, everything about his situation made him uneasy. But there was no help for it.
He didn’t say anything. She didn’t either. Silence suited them. Too much rode beneath the surface. He didn’t want to break their truce by asking unwelcome questions. He figured she felt the same way.
Truth was, he didn’t trust Lady’s story completely. Yet she’d struck a chord when she’d referred to the horse as family. He played his cards close to the vest, too. Crystabelle was never far from his thoughts. He’d stay on the lookout for her in outlaw hideouts.
Trust was a hard won commodity. It had to be earned. Maybe in time, he and Lady could come to trust each other. Maybe not.
By late afternoon, he was ready for a break. The horses were snatching bites of tall grass as they followed a narrow trail, so he knew they were ready, too. Lady rode ahead, intent on her mission. Driven. He wondered what or who really drove her. He’d seen the pain in her eyes when he’d asked about family. He wondered if one of the outlaws she’d consorted with meant more to her than she let on. Was she out to get revenge for a missing lover? A husband? No way to know.
So far, their mounts appeared to have no bottom, but he didn’t want to push too far and find out different. A big oak tree up ahead with limbs spreading across the stream appeared a likely place to hole up for a spell.
“Lady,” he called, “let’s take a break.”
She glanced back, looked where he pointed, and broke trail.
As he followed her into the shade of the oak, birds shrieked in protest and rose into the air. A white-tailed jack rabbit leaped into the bushes and disappeared. Rafe circled the tree, checked the area for tracks, for danger. All appeared safe.
He dismounted and led Justice down to the river. While the gelding drank, he kept his eyes wary and his hand by his Peacemaker. No point taking chances, particularly in Indian and outlaw country.
“Want to break out the cornpone and jerky?” Lady asked, stroking Jipsey’s neck as the mare drank deeply.
“Sounds good.”
“We ought to arrive at Boggy Saloon about sundown. No point getting there any sooner. Place would be deserted.”
“Which outlaws go there?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If it’s a favorite watering hole, or somebody just happens to be in the area.”
“They’ll be dangerous.”
She nodded, looking Rafe up and down. “They don’t cotton to strangers.”
“But you’ll take care of that.”
“They won’t ask your name. Nobody’d be that foolish. But they’ll expect you to use an alias.”
He considered a different name, absently rubbing the persistent itch of the rough, raw hanging mark around his neck. He looked out across the river, dark green in the shade of the spreading oak. Frogs jumped off the bank and splashed into the water. Justice stamped a hoof and swished his tail at buzzing flies.
“Any ideas?” Lady asked.
“You’ve had more experience at this than me.”
“True blue John Law, right?”
“Been doing my best.”
“I’ll let them know you’re a fast gun, strong arm.”
“And your man?” He glanced over at her, tossing a quick smile to challenge her. “Why else would I be with you?”
She studied the stream. “Maybe I needed some help.”
“Not likely. You’re Lady Gone Bad.”
She shrugged. “You could be family. A cousin. We’ll see how it plays out.”
He grinned, imagining how he’d play it. “What about my name?”
“Seeing as how you’re John Law, let’s call you Fast John.”
“Fast John?” He snorted in disgust. “That’s not clever. Lady Gone Bad and Fast John? Hardly seems fair.”
She chuckled. “We don’t want to be too smart, do we?”
“I get a song, too?”
“Let me think about that one.” She winked, smiling as she led Jipsey to a grassy area and dropped the reins.
He followed her, wishing all the world would disappear. With enough time alone with Lady, maybe he could figure out the real woman behind the masks that appeared to come and go so easily with her. He felt sure the kind farmers wouldn’t have recognized her as a dance hall singer, a scrappy boy, or an outlaw. They’d thought she was a helpful cowgirl.
“On second thought,” he said, letting Justice graze beside Jipsey, “I don’t want you to write me a song. No telling what you’d say.”
“We’re talking about Fast John.” She grinned. “Would that be with pistol in hand?”
He eyed her warily.
“Would that be mighty impressive to a man, or kicked out of bed by a woman?”
He groaned, shaking his head. Trust Lady Gone Bad to come up with a clever play on words that was sure to make a man’s head spin.
She laughed, cleared her throat, and sang.
Quick John, Slow Johnny,
Apple of the ladies’ eyes.
Apple of the ladies’ eyes.
Rafe laughed hard. He could get used to having her around. Life would never be dull. When she joined his laughter, he wanted nothing more than to prove just how slow and attentive John Law could be. He’d have her singing, all right, but it’d be to his tune, not hers.
Chapter 19
L
ady grew more alert and cautious as they neared the notorious Boggy Saloon nestled near the apex of the Boggy River and Clear Boggy Creek. On one side, the Boggy gurgled its way downstream. On the other, tall trees vied with grass high enough to tickle a horse’s belly. She could smell wood smoke even though the night wouldn’t be much cooler than the day. Probably somebody was cooking up a mess of pinto beans and ham hocks. Not as good as farm food, but saloon patrons would contentedly chow down on filling fare as long as whiskey kept flowing down their gullets.
ady grew more alert and cautious as they neared the notorious Boggy Saloon nestled near the apex of the Boggy River and Clear Boggy Creek. On one side, the Boggy gurgled its way downstream. On the other, tall trees vied with grass high enough to tickle a horse’s belly. She could smell wood smoke even though the night wouldn’t be much cooler than the day. Probably somebody was cooking up a mess of pinto beans and ham hocks. Not as good as farm food, but saloon patrons would contentedly chow down on filling fare as long as whiskey kept flowing down their gullets.
She glanced over at Rafe. He’d pass as a gunslinger now that he wore his fancy gray shirt, gray neckerchief, black leather vest, charcoal trousers, and black boots. He’d buckled his Peacemaker low on his right hip. At the barn, she’d used a pair of scissors she’d borrowed from the farmers to cut his hair short. He’d let his mustache grow in dark and thick. With his transformation complete, he appeared even more daring and dangerous than usual.
She had to admit Rafe excited her, now more than ever. A shame they were at cross purposes, or he just might be the man to finally make a believer out of Lady Gone Bad.
She hoped that nobody would connect Fast John with Rafe Morgan. If somebody recognized his flashy horse, he’d just have to explain that he’d stolen the gelding from some no-count John Law.
Anything could happen at the Boggy Saloon because anybody might show up. In case there was trouble, she’d opted to wear her Levi’s since she could move easier in blue jeans and draw her Colt .44 faster from her hip. Still, she needed to appear as Lady Gone Bad, so she wore the ruffled, low-cut crimson blouse from Paris. Matched her red boots, too. That’d satisfy her audience.
“Let’s go in with attitude,” Lady said, glancing back at Rafe.
“I never saw you go anywhere without it.” He rode up close beside her, his black boot strafing her red one as their horses moved forward together.
“Just doing what works.” She shrugged. “If somebody talks about cashing in his six-shooter, please ignore the fact that he’s referring to a bank holdup.”
“And if I recognize a face from a wanted poster, I’ll try to resist cuffing him and taking him to the Hangin’ Judge.”
“Don’t even think such a thing. When you get into your role as gunslinger, you must stay there. Live it. Breathe it.”
“I’m not used to playing parts like you.”
She pulled Jipsey to a halt so she could stare into Rafe’s eyes. “Listen! If any one of them catches a whiff that you’re not who you’re supposed to be, we’re both dead. They won’t question us. They won’t give us a trial. They won’t let us walk out. They take no chances.”
“I know. They put me on the wrong end of a hangin’ noose just for looking at you.”
“You were sniffing around their turf ready to make an arrest.”
“Set their backs up, didn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the way he downplayed the situation.
“And you didn’t help matters.” Rafe jerked a thumb toward her.
“I saved your neck, so it all evens out in the end.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” She gave him a hard look. “They’re tough, no doubt. But we’re not shrinking violets either.”
He grinned, mischief dancing in his gray eyes. “Not by a long shot.”
“You ready to brave the bears in their own den?”
“Might as well.” He glanced toward the saloon, then back at her.
She nodded, her heart speeding up, anticipating battle, fingertips tingling with excitement. “Let’s go.”
As the sun descended in the west, Lady led Rafe across packed ground to the front of the saloon, long shadows stretching away from them. The place looked like a run-down farmhouse, its rough hewn logs grayed with age. Two large rooms were connected by an open dog trot under a single shake-shingle roof. Two square windows darkened with soot seemed to watch their approach. Smoke curled up from a river-rock chimney.
Several horses were tied to the hitching posts in front. She checked them over, pleased to see the Hayes Brothers’ sorrels were already there. If she got Ma Engle’s funeral jewelry from them, she could focus on Copper. She only hoped they hadn’t thrown it away.
She stopped Jipsey at the hitching post in front of the saloon half of the building. The other half held a dozen bunks so patrons could sleep off liquor and fistfights or hide from the law. Rafe eased up beside her. They exchanged a meaningful look, nodded, dismounted, and adjusted their gun belts.
So far, so good. Lady took a deep breath. Not too busy. Maybe they could get in and get out without causing trouble. But she was prepared, always prepared, for the worst.
As she walked into the shadow of the dogtrot, the doors to the saloon and the bunks stood open, letting out the stench of liquor, tobacco, and sweat. Gulping one last breath of clean air, she stepped up the two sagging wooden steps to the saloon, feeling Rafe right behind her, warm and strong. She hesitated a moment, waiting for all eyes to find her.
The Boggy Saloon didn’t have a woman’s touch, not even close. Floors had long ago turned dark with grime, tobacco that had missed spittoons, dried beans, and spilled whiskey. Men sporting face-hiding whiskers and filed-down pistols sat at tables playing poker and downing whiskey.
Everything in the room had been hacked from nearby trees, and then put back together in the shape of tables, chairs, and a bar made from one long tree trunk split down the middle. Time had turned the wood dark. Hands had smoothed off the rough edges.
The Hayes Brothers, two broad-shouldered giants with wild, black hair and beards, wearing red plaid shirts, black wool trousers with suspenders, and heavy work boots, leaned against the bar. Each held a shot glass.
Saloonkeeper Crowdy, a rangy Cherokee with high cheekbones and a square jaw, set down two blue porcelain coated tin bowls loaded with beans and two spoons. He added a bottle of whiskey.
She’d known Crowdy since she was a kid. No telling his age, not with his smooth, walnut-tinted skin and thick black hair. In the past, he’d dropped by the ranch and helped Da with the horses. She trusted him to never reveal her true identity.
Crowdy glanced up and saw her. “Hey, Lady! Lady Gone Bad.” He motioned her inside, a slight smile curving his lips. “Look here, b’hoys, best treat in Indian Territory.”
Lady plastered on her famous smile, bright and white with just the hint of a tease, and stepped into the room. All activity stopped. Drinks and cards were dropped to focus on her. She put a hand on her hip, and chuckled, a low, seductive sound.
“Lady . . . Lady . . . Lady.”
She heard her alias go round the room, watched the men’s eyes brighten with excitement, and felt the usual responsibility not to disappoint.
For a moment, she couldn’t quite recall her role. Rafe’s fault, she realized. He’d insisted she be real with him, even wanted to know her real name. She’d gotten into the habit of reality. She’d even been finding the way back to herself, little by little. Now she must thrust truth aside and be what these men, and others, wanted her to be. Tears blurred her vision. Ridiculous as it seemed, she felt like a damsel in distress. She had an impulse to turn around, bury her face against Rafe’s strong chest, and make Lady Gone Bad go away.
Shocked, she stood completely still, smile plastered in place. She couldn’t allow Rafe to make her weak, forget her duty, run away with fear. Nothing mattered except justice. She must achieve it no matter what price she had to pay.
“Hey, boys,” Lady said, blinking back tears and letting her voice drop to a low, sultry tone. “I heard there were some handsome hombres holed up here at the Boggy. I just had to stop by and see for myself.”
Behind the bar, Crowdy nodded, keeping dark eyes on the crowd.
Lady made a show of looking around the room, judging each man in turn. “Let’s see.” She put a forefinger to her chin, and then cocked her head to one side. “I do believe the rumors are true. I’ve just got to spend a little time here.”
“Dang fools,” Rafe whispered behind her.
She pretended to ignore him, but wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. She could only hope nobody heard him. “Any handsome hombre here willing to buy a lady a drink?”
“Free drink for every song you sing,” Crowdy said, holding up a shot glass and pointing the open end toward her.
“You mean, you want me to work for my whiskey?” Lady batted long eyelashes and pouted crimson lips.
“Land sakes, mosey over here,” Burt Hayes said. “Share our bottle.”
“Choc, too,” Bob Hayes added.
“You’re so kind.” Lady smiled, shuddering at the thought of strong Choctaw beer as she let her gaze travel over each man again. “I might even sing a little song, if nobody objects.”
“Lady . . . Lady . . . Lady.”
“Later, boys. Let me wet my whistle first.” And then, as if just remembering, she moved aside and held out a hand toward Rafe.
He stepped up into the saloon.
“Who’s that?” Crowdy hissed, picking up his shotgun and pointing the business end toward the open doorway.
“Fast John.” Lady smiled, intentionally keeping her hand away from her Colt .44 by fluffing her hair with her right hand to indicate neither she nor Rafe meant trouble. “I met him in the Bend. Likes to play cards.”
All eyes fastened on Rafe like an eagle sighting prey. Hands dropped to six-shooters. Crowdy cocked his shotgun.
“I told Fast John he might like to cool his heels for a bit in Indian Territory,” Lady said, implying Rafe was running from the law. “And I told him everybody at the Boggy likes to play poker.”
Despite her brave words, she felt her heart beat fast, wondering if the outlaws would shoot first and ask questions later.
Other books
Off Armageddon Reef by David Weber
Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus by Roxxy Meyer, Leigh Foxlee
Second Best Fantasy by Angela Kelly
Magical Masquerade: A Regency Masquerade by Gilman, Hilary
No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) by Layne Harper
When Did We Lose Harriet? by Patricia Sprinkle
The Egyptologist by Arthur Phillips
El club erótico de los martes by Lisa Beth Kovetz
Damia's Children by Anne McCaffrey
Bold by Nicola Marsh
