Western Winds Page 10

  “Tell me who it was. Tell me, Lacey!”

  “It wasn’t Evan.”

  “Then I won’t have to kill him.”

  “Stop this!” Her gaze locked with his. “No more. You can’t make threats and—”

  “Promises, princess. I make promises. I’ll make you one now. I’ll have you hot, wet, kitten soft, and wild with wanting me.”

  His voice was raw. Lacey couldn’t breathe. His eyes held hers, daring her to deny him. Slowly she withdrew.

  Rafe didn’t stop her. He hadn’t intended to warn her, but Lacey was like a thorn in his side, jabbing him with every move, drawing blood with every word. The taste of her lingered; like a fever it spread inside him, and only a thread of caution warned him what he risked to stay.

  “Get out of my room, Rafe. And stay out.”

  “Sure, princess. But remember, I keep my promises.”

  “So do I, Rafe. So do I.”

  Chapter 9

  Bravado and pride aside, Lacey avoided Rafe by riding out to each of the line shacks scattered over the Reina. For three days she took inventory of the supplies, made lists of needed repairs, and scouted for stray cattle. Through Maggie she learned that Rafe was line riding the herd at night. The raids had stopped, and Lacey wondered if Rafe’s visit to Darcy was the cause. She couldn’t deny being happy with the result.

  The moment she walked into the kitchen this morning, she knew the uneasy peace was over. Rafe, lit by mottled streams of sunlight, sat at the table, talking softly to Maggie. He turned as Lacey hesitated in the doorway. His black hair was damp and tousled, his eyes pinning her.

  “Well, well, don’t you look the princess today.”

  “Don’t be teasin’ her, Rafe,” Maggie chided, and to Lacey said, “You look really pretty, honey. It’s nice seein’ you dressed like a woman.” When Lacey didn’t answer, Maggie had to pay attention to the way she was glaring at Rafe’s clothes. In an effort to forestall an outburst over his wearing a butternut-colored shirt and dark brown twill pants that had belonged to Sy, Maggie rose. She chattered on about the supplies she needed for the house as she bustled about the kitchen.

  “…Now, don’t you think that’s a fine notion, Lacey?”

  “What? I’m sorry, Maggie, I wasn’t listening.” She ignored Rafe’s grin and poured herself a cup of coffee. Damn him! If he stared any harder at her, he would begin counting the threads in her russet-colored skirt, or the stitches in every tuck of the cream cotton shirt, or measure the soft twists of the dark brown neckerchief tied around her neck.

  “Lacey? You’re takin’ Rafe with you, honey.”

  “No!”

  “No, princess?”

  Her look warned him to keep quiet. Rafe stretched his arms and tucked them behind his head, leaning back in the chair. His grin was brazen.

  “Can’t see why not,” Maggie continued, rummaging in one drawer, then another. “Can’t seem to find my list. Must of put it in my room.”

  Rafe turned around the moment she left them, but Lacey spoke first. “You are not coming with me.”

  “Ain’t I? But I was just going to ask if there’s something wrong with the coffee. The way you’re staring at the cup, bright eyes, makes me think you find it bitter.”

  “Your presence is bitter. And what are you doing here? I thought you were riding line at night.”

  “I live here. Just ’cause you’ve gone out of your way to avoid seeing me these last few days, doesn’t mean I feel the same. I missed you. An’ I’ve been doing my job. Came in at first light when Scanlon rode out to relieve me.”

  Lacey looked at him, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. He certainly didn’t look like a man who had spent the better part of the night in a saddle. If anything, he was freshly shaven and appeared more rested than she felt. But he was not coming with her.

  Maggie returned, waving her list. “Here it is. Now, I won’t hold you two up. Jus’ take care.”

  “Maggie, I told you he’s not going with me. He needs to … to sleep, and I may not come back tonight. Someone—”

  “That’s all the more reason why I should come with you, Lacey. Can’t have anything happen to my partner.”

  “Rafe can get to know folks an’ the stores where we have accounts in San Angela, honey. An’ don’t forget the castor oil for Fletcher.”

  Lacey did not correct Maggie about where she was going. It was useless to continue to argue. Maggie could wind her down faster than a fifty-cent watch. “Hitch the wagon, Rafe. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She snatched the list from Maggie and left them to get her gun.

  Once outside Lacey stood by the high-sided supply wagon and watched Rafe attach the harness straps on the team of horses to the wagon trace. He moved with a smooth, easy grace under the brassy sky. She refused to be caught staring and pushed her flat-crowned back to glance north. Thick clouds piled high, dark and gray, warning of rain.

  He finished and stood gazing at her, one brow lifted in contemplation. Feisty hellion! He had a feeling she waited for him to remark about the holstered gun she now wore. A devil prompted him not to disappoint her. “You don’t need a gun, Lacey. I’m with you.”

  She gritted her teeth, snapped the brim of her hat down, and climbed up onto the wagon seat. “Maybe I want to make sure nothing happens to you, partner.”

  “You know, bright eyes, you can tangle a man’s breath up inside him every time he looks at you.”

  Her brow knitted in concentration. She sensed the loneliness in him, the darkness beyond his soul, and like the land she loved, knew Rafe could be harsh or beguiling by turns. Lacey had to look away from him toward the Bradys, rising tall and hard from the land. Thin clouds shimmered and swirled around the rocky peaks. She wondered what secrets they held, what secrets were hidden inside him, what warmth was concealed by his hard surface, and who, if anyone, had breached it. Since she wasn’t a fool, she had to remind herself of the danger she sensed beneath his rugged surface.

  “It’s late, Rafe. We’d better leave.”

  His last words lingered in her mind as they rode for almost an hour in silence. Lacey was plagued by her unfair judgment of him. He had taken orders, put in more than his share of hours, and she found herself wanting his understanding for her anger over Darcy.

  “Rafe, you haven’t mentioned Darcy again, but I need to tell you why Sy hated him.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “When Darcy settled here, he had plenty of water, but his streams and a few water holes went dry. He bought out a few small ranches, but it didn’t help him. Sy refused to sell him any land with water. He had faced droughts, and last year we faced the worst one. We lost three hundred head. Darcy ran his cows over our land, and Sy set men to guard the water holes with orders to shoot. It was horrible to see Darcy’s cattle die, but we couldn’t lose more of our own. This isn’t a land where you can afford to indulge in pity to your own cost. Darcy swore to get even, and the raids started. Believe what you want, you won’t change facts.”

  “None of that explains what’s between you and April.”

  Lacey stared at his grim profile. She wanted to shake him and tried not to cringe when he returned her look, the smile on his mouth more than a little threatening.

  “You won’t say?”

  “I won’t say.”

  Silence reigned once again.

  The four or five buildings could be called a town, Rafe decided. A trading post, a livery and blacksmith, a saloon, and a few cabins. “Ain’t much,” he remarked and set the pole brake. “Figured you would do your buying in San Angela not Sonora.”

  “I usually do.”

  “Then why…” He stopped himself when he noticed the wooden sign posted in front of an adobe house behind the trading post. Curt Blaine, he read and beneath it, Attorney and Counselor At Law. “When
you see your lapdog, make sure he gives you those papers the judge had. There’s a letter for you from Sy.”

  Irritated with Rafe for calling Curt a lapdog, Lacey was also relieved when he said nothing more. She got down without his help and entered Spanish Mike’s trading post. It was dim and Lacey waited a moment, assaulted by the smell of newly tanned hides piled near the doorway. As she walked forward, she was forced to inhale the pungent odor of salt brine rising from large barrels that marked a path through the crowded store.

  Spanish Mike was a strongly built man, missing the lobe of his right ear, and Lacey had no idea of his age. He was a reading man, always with a book or a months-old newspaper in hand. He glanced up from a ragged copy of one such paper now, acknowledging her with a smile.

  “Miz Lacey, right sorry ’bout Sy. Couldn’t get out to the service.”

  “Thank you, Mike.” She knew his gaze had shifted to Rafe standing behind her, and Lacey didn’t know how to introduce them. She glanced back at Rafe only to see his gaze fastened on something on the counter. She turned back and noticed the basket of fresh apples alongside a jar of peppermint sticks.

  “New hand, Miz Lacey?”

  “Partner,” Rafe explained, reaching over to pluck an apple from the small pile.

  His eyes closed in bliss as he bit into the juicy fruit, and Lacey stared at him. Fresh apples weren’t available often, and when they were, their price was high, but something about the way he nibbled down to the core before taking another bite … Her thought stopped. She was arrested by the mischievous sparkle in his eyes when he opened them and looked at her.

  “We’ll take the whole basket.”

  “Rafe!”

  “Now, that’s a mite pricey, fella.”

  Rafe ignored Mike and held Lacey’s gaze. “I’ve always wanted to taste a fresh apple.”

  His voice was gruff, his eyes defiant now, and Lacey felt her throat close. Her heart gave a lurch, for those few words told her so much about him. Hunger. Maggie had tried to explain the hunger Rafe had for so many things.

  His white teeth sank into the apple again, and she suddenly didn’t care if the basket cost the price of ten cows. “Put the whole basket on our account, Mike.”

  “And a jar of peppermint sticks,” Rafe added.

  Lacey bit her lip. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. “The whole jar, Rafe?”

  “The whole jar,” he confirmed, reaching out for another apple.

  Lacey blinked back tears. Damn Rafe! He was twisting her emotions. A need to hold him, to promise he could have whatever he had longed for, whatever he wanted, swamped her.

  “Hear they’re building up at Permanent Camp again,” Mike said. “Can’t settle on who’s commanding it. They’ve had a string of officers shifting through like prairie breezes.”

  “I didn’t know.” Lacey was thankful for the distraction Mike offered. She fumbled with the list, handed it to Rafe, and made her escape.

  As she turned the corner of the store toward Curt’s house, she heard the sound of riders but didn’t bother to look back. Her thoughts were occupied by the confusion she was feeling over Rafe. She couldn’t close her mind to the sight of him eating that apple. There had been no arrogance, no mockery from him, and a warm glow spread inside her that so simple a thing made him happy. But why should she care? She didn’t like him. Shaking her head, Lacey knocked and greeted the widowed Mrs. Halsey, Curt’s housekeeper.

  Lacey accepted the woman’s condolences, found out Curt had just returned from Austin that morning, and declined the woman’s offer to announce her.

  Curt’s office at the back of the house was cool and sparsely furnished. He appeared visibly agitated as she entered and stood before his desk.

  “Lacey, this is an unexpected pleasure. How did you know I was back?”

  “I didn’t—and this isn’t a social call.”

  “Who rode in with you?”

  “Rafe. I left him getting our supplies. Curt, I need your help.”

  “Blunt as always. And what about my needs?”

  Lacey rested her palms against the desk. “Leave the past be. I want to know if you have those papers Judge Walker mentioned.”

  He toyed with his pen, shuffling the papers before him into an untidy pile. “I don’t have them. Why?”

  “Well, they belong to me. I wanted to read that letter Sy wrote. I need to understand what made him change his will and…” She stared down at the desk, rubbing one finger back and forth on the polished wood. “I was hoping that letter would mention who my father is.”

  “Then I will make it a point to see the judge when I return to Austin. Don’t be upset. You know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Give me a few minutes. Mrs. Halsey was making fresh lemonade.”

  Lacey grew restless waiting for him to return. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe and that look of bliss on his face.

  Curt came back with a tray and set it on the desk, then poured out a glass for each of them. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me how things are working out?”

  Lacey refused to sit but sipped her drink and quickly filled him in on what happened with Bo. She stopped short of any mention of her own personal confrontations with Rafe. After explaining that she had fired Ward, she set her half-empty glass down. “And that’s the other reason I came to see you. I know our credit is extended, but I need you to talk the bank into giving us a few more months.”

  He tilted his chair back, leaning against it, his grin wry. He wanted her so damn much. The brief affair he had had with her the summer she was sixteen had ended abruptly. Lacey’s decision, and one he refused to accept.

  “Marry me.”

  “What?” Her hazel eyes meshed with his. “Curt, did you listen to anything I’ve said? And you know I can’t marry. I won’t lose my share of the Reina.”

  “Just suppose I could promise that you won’t lose it? What if you could own the Reina, without a partner, with no one to interfere?”

  “What are you implying?” She watched the grim emotions flicker across his face, his eyes narrowed to thin, wary slits. Shocked, Lacey prayed for his denial.

  Curt’s chair came forward with a bang. He hunched forward over his desk, his gaze locked with hers. “I love you. You can’t end a feeling like that. We had something special between us, Lacey, and I want it back. Marry me. I can offer you more than just the full ownership of the Reina.”

  “And what about Rafe Parrish?”

  He had the grace to look away. “This is rough country. Accidents happen all the time. Men have been known to just disappear.”

  “No. No, Curt!” She backed away from the desk as he rose and came toward her. “You don’t realize what you’re saying. Don’t even think about it. I would never condone murder.”

  “You wouldn’t need to know, Lacey.” He put his arms around her, fury held in check that she remained stiff and unyielding. “Can you ever forget that I was the first man to love you?”

  She twisted her head to avoid his kiss, pressing her hands against his chest to keep some distance. “Curt, you’re a special friend, but that’s all I want or need you to be.” His jealousy had helped her break off with him, and Lacey rationalized that his crazy idea of killing Rafe was just an extension of that feeling. His lips skimmed her cheek. “That summer,” she whispered, “I thought I was all grown up and in love with you, but I didn’t understand the … “Consequences” was what she wanted to say, but didn’t. It would be pointless to tell him that she had miscarried. “Oh, Curt, please, I don’t want to hurt you.” Her hand cupped his cheek, and she looked up at him.

  “It’s Parrish, isn’t it? You’ll take any man that can give you the Reina. Did he—”

  “Don’t you dare say such things to me!” She struggled free and stepped back.

  “
Can’t you understand how strong my feelings are? The thought of another man touching you is enough to drive me insane. Please, Lacey, swear to me that he never touched you.”

  There was no need for words. He had his answer in the sudden flush tinting sun-gold cheeks, the lowered sweep of her lashes, and the defiant lift of her chin. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I shouldn’t have asked. Just don’t shut me out. Give us time. I’ll ride to Austin as soon as I can to get those papers and bring them to you.” Jamming his hands into his pants pockets, he turned his back on her. “I’ll do my best to get the bank to extend you credit.”

  “Curt, I am sorry.”

  She left him, hurrying down the hall. It wasn’t until she opened the front door that yells and gunshots reached her. Lacey ran, grabbing up her skirt and petticoats with one hand, drawing her gun with the other.

  Flattened against the chinked logs of the trading post, Lacey cautiously peered around the corner. “Rafe!”

  Pulled by a rope, his prone body was dragged past her in a cloud of dust. There was no time to take aim. Lacey got off two quick shots, but she couldn’t identify the rider. She heard Spanish Mike yell over the drum of horses driven hard. A boom sounded and she knew it was Mike’s buffalo gun going off. Horses whinnied and a man screamed. She couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on.

  “Get down!” Mike ordered, crouched behind their loaded wagon. Dust was settling in the street.

  Frantic to find out where Rafe was, Lacey began to crawl toward Mike. Her skirt hem caught on the rough boards, and she tore it free.

  “Where’s Rafe?”

  “I ain’t sure. Maybe behind those cottonwoods.”

  “What happened? Who are they?”

  “All hell broke when I went inside to get the last sack of flour. He was standing by the wagon when they rode by. Heard him yell, grabbed up blue lightning here, and scattered them quick.”