His eyes filled with sadness as he put his palm on top of her fingers, lifted her hand off his arm and stepped back. He wasn’t an affectionate man—she’d known that. But she still felt a sting when he brushed off her sympathy. She followed his gaze to the cabin where Emily was standing with her sisters. The youngest had her thumb in her mouth, and the middle girl was holding her sister’s hand.
“I better tell the girls,” Tim said.
“Would you like me to do it with you?” She had to speak to Rafe, but that would only take a moment.
“No. I’ll handle it.”
She watched as Tim walked across the yard and up the porch steps. She couldn’t hear his words, but she saw the girls nodding solemnly.
Later she’d stand with the family while they buried Chester, but first she had business with Rafe. As she walked into the barn, she spotted him in a middle stall. He’d already put on his coat and hat and was saddling the roan. The only spot of brightness in the cavernous building came from a square window near the roof. It put a diamond of light on Rafe’s back and made the ends of his long hair shine. The mix reminded her of the locket in her jewelry box. The outside had become tarnished. To see the gold and the person inside, she had to open it.
Yesterday she’d had a glimpse of the man hidden inside Rafe. She’d needed whiskey and he’d given it to her. She’d needed to talk and he’d listened. And that kiss… He’d been tender and passionate, pointing her down a road and asking her to follow—until he’d turned back into a jackass. Judging by the look of him now, that man was gone for good. Susanna cleared her throat. “You wanted to speak to me?”
He glanced over his shoulder with the same scowl he’d worn in the yard. “I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“If I don’t make it back, will you see that Nick finds a home?”
“Of course.”
“It won’t be easy. He’s at an awkward age.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll adopt him.”
“You’ll need a bigger place.” He motioned toward a corner of the barn. “My gear’s stowed in the tack room. You know what’s in the saddlebag. Take it for Nick.”
“That won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
Her voice had sounded strong, but her stomach did a flip. Jackass or not, Rafe would be in danger. A lone rider had the advantage of speed if he ran into the outlaw gang, but Rafe would be outnumbered. She hadn’t bothered with a shawl when she’d raced out of the house and now she felt the cold in her bones.
He’d turned his back on her, but she had to remind him about the medicine for Nick. “You’ll need to go to the clinic. Nick’s worse.”
“Christ Almighty,” he muttered. “That kid has worse luck than I do. How bad is it?”
Susanna dodged the question. “I need echinacea for a tea. It’s in the cupboard by the door that leads to the waiting room. Everything’s labeled, so you won’t have trouble finding it.”
Rafe pulled the cinch tight. “Anything else?”
She needed clean clothes, but she didn’t want him to go into her bedroom. He’d invaded it once and that was enough. But she did need another favor. “There’s a blackboard outside the front door of my office. I usually write a note when I’m gone. Would you leave a message saying where I am?”
Rafe hesitated and she knew why. If someone came looking for her, he’d be noticed. Susanna didn’t care. Her patients had needs, too. “It’s what I always do,” she said. “Melissa Greene is supposed to come by today. If I’m not there, she’ll start asking questions.”
He pulled his hat low. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
She’d never heard a man sound less sincere. “It’s important, Rafe. Promise me you’ll do it.”
When he didn’t answer, Susanna realized that his reasons for going to Midas were less than perfect. He’d fetch the herbs for Nick, but she doubted he’d do anything more. Her temper flared. “You’re not going to see the sheriff, are you?”
He gave her a hard look. “No, I’m not. There’s no need.”
“That’s ridiculous. The Bentons could be headed this way right now.”
“They’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“They don’t attack during the day.” He led the roan out of the stall. “Frank likes to wait until a house is dark, then they break in, tie everyone up and take what they want. They’d have struck last night. I know these men. Judging by what Chester said, they’re headed south.”
His explanation rang true. At the same time, he’d made a selfish decision. “You should still report what happened.”
“I’ll leave that to you.” He led the roan into the yard where he stopped several feet away from Chester’s body. Someone, probably Tim, had covered the corpse with a blanket. In the distance, she heard the thud of a pickax, but her eyes stayed on Rafe, who was unlashing his carbine from its scabbard.
After lifting the weapon, he held it out to her. “Keep this for me.”
Susanna accepted the gun with both hands and turned it for a better look at the engraving. She’d never seen such fine work. Like the locket in her jewelry box, it was etched with roses. “This is beautiful. It must be special to you.”
“It is.” He looked into her eyes. “If I don’t make it back, keep it for yourself. I owe it to you.”
The gift touched her, but she also felt unsettled. He treasured the gun and had spent hours doing the etching. It felt too personal, so she said, “I’ll keep it for Nick, but we’re expecting you back for supper.”
“Don’t wait up. Anything could happen.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Are you always this grim?”
“Yes, and I’m usually right.”
He was looking into her eyes with a knowledge that took her back to the moment his lips had found hers. The heat of it warmed her now. So did the realization that he’d been right about her need to talk and be held, even her innocence. She had welcomed his understanding, but then he’d turned back into a saloon rat.
She frowned at him. “You owe me an apology.”
“Not a chance, Doc.” He’d made his voice low and deep. “I’m not at all sorry I kissed you. You needed it and I wanted it. But I will give you a compliment. You’re an exceptional woman and a damn fine kisser. Don’t ever doubt yourself.”
“I don’t.”
But she’d just told a lie. She believed in herself as a doctor, but she wasn’t so sure about the rest of her life. As a child she hadn’t fit in and she still felt that way. When she chatted with other women, the conversation usually turned to their families. She had no one—except her parents and four younger brothers. As for male attention, she was caught between her gender and her career. By necessity, “Dr. Leaf” was a sexless creature who could pick shotgun pellets out of a man’s buttocks without embarrassing him. But she was a woman, too. Alone at night, she had thoughts that would have burned down a barn. She wanted kisses in the dark, a man’s hands on her breasts, the feel of him inside her.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. At Hopkins, her best friend had taken a lover and encouraged Susanna to do the same. She had been tempted by one of her professors, but she didn’t have the heart for an affair. What good were sparks that would die out? She wanted a love that would last a lifetime. Susanna believed in that dream, but she’d grown discouraged over the past year. If she never married, she’d survive. She had her practice, her parents and her brothers. She loved Midas and believed in her work. If she overlooked the loneliness that crept into her bed, she had a perfect life.
Except she had liked kissing Rafe and wanted to do it again. Heat spread from her belly to her back. It burned even hotter when Rafe brushed her cheek with his knuckles and brought her back to what he’d said about doubting herself—and being a good kisser. No one had ever said anything like that to her.
He gave her a tender smile. “I meant what I said, Susanna.”
Her cheek burned as he lowered his hand. Shaking inside, sh
e watched as he pulled himself into the saddle and rode down the trail leading to Midas. He looked at ease, but she wasn’t fooled. The trip put him at risk and he was on guard.
She had never known a man with such shifting moods. She wanted an apology from the jackass, but she had been charmed by the man who had dosed her with whiskey. With his ponytail hanging down his back, he was a troublemaker to the core. But to Nick he was a father, brother and friend.
Susanna was saying a prayer for his safety when he looked over his shoulder. Their eyes locked across the space of the yard and he grinned. He’d caught her looking, but he’d been doing the same thing.
Rafe…a mix of a rogue and waif. The name suited him. He had the hard edges of a troubled man, but in his eyes she saw an unloved child. Had he been an orphan like Nick? Perhaps he’d been the youngest in a family with too many mouths to feed. Or maybe he’d grown up in a house full of violence as she had. She’d been fourteen when she discovered the truth of her blood and had run away from home. That search had reunited her parents and brought them all to Midas where she had met her father for the first time.
Looking at Rafe now, she recalled the lost girl she’d been on the train headed west. She wanted to tell him that she understood the need to run away from hurtful things, but before she could open her mouth, the waif vanished. Loose and lazy in the saddle, the rogue let his attention linger on her eyes and cheeks. Heat spread up her throat like a wild vine.
Refusing to be shy, Susanna stared back until he tipped his hat in salute.
I know what you’re thinking, he seemed to say.
Maybe he did…but she understood him, too. She wasn’t at all surprised when he kicked the roan into a gallop, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. He could ride all day and night. He could spend the rest of his life in the saddle, but Susanna knew a simple truth. Rafe LaCroix couldn’t run from himself.
Chapter Eight
When he reached Midas, Rafe pushed his hat even lower and hunkered inside his duster. He looked like a half-dead saddle tramp, but his nerves were prickling with awareness. With wagons rattling and the shouts of children in a nearby schoolyard, the town had a lively feel to it. A stranger would be noticed but not questioned.
He had been here two years ago with Lem. His friend had taken sick, so they had paid a call on Doc Randall. The old man had told Lem his heart was skipping beats and that he needed to settle down. Lem had laughed it off and they’d gone back to trailing a fellow wanted for a double murder.
A few months later, Lem had died in his sleep. Rafe had buried him on a hill in the middle of nowhere, said goodbye and gone back to work. Bounty hunting wasn’t the only life he knew, but it suited him. Thanks to Lem, he was good at it. The older man had taken a greenhorn kid and taught him how to track and shoot. As for being sneaky and clever, Rafe had honed those abilities in a snotty prep school in Boston. He’d liked learning but had hated everything else about that gray-stone world, especially being called a bastard.
He’d been called that name by his half brother, too. The memory of blood on the bricks in their father’s study reminded Rafe that he was just a few steps away from prison or the gallows. Because of Nick, he’d been stopped for over a week, which meant his guardian angel could have plastered the town with those damned reward posters.
Rafe hated the thought of riding through Midas in broad daylight, but he needed to know if his past had caught up with him. Maybe his guardian angel had stopped the hunt at the Colorado border. Rafe hoped so. He wanted to give Nick time to recover and, foolish or not, he liked Dr. Leaf. He’d never met a woman who was both innocent and wise. She had a smart mouth, too. Rafe liked that in a female—not that it mattered. He’d be gone in a few weeks.
Figuring it was best to hide in plain sight, he turned up the main street where he saw the Midas Hotel, a bank and a café that was advertising pot roast and chocolate cake on a blackboard. Rafe’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored the need and rode to the sheriff’s office where he found a wall covered with Wanted posters. He saw Zeke Benton’s ugly face and three more handbills showing men he recognized.
He looked twice to check for himself on the board. He’d turned in Frank Benton a month ago and that should have cleared his name, but a man couldn’t be sure of such things. Justice, he’d learned, was fickle.
Relieved that he wasn’t mentioned, Rafe turned Punkin down the street and rode to the train depot. If his guardian angel had been to Midas, he would have left a poster offering a reward for information. Months ago, Rafe had spotted one in Leadville and had laid low for weeks.
He found the station by following the scent of diesel. Oil clung to everything it touched. So did the smells of money, Cuban cigars and sumptuous meals. Bristling at the memory of his father’s St. Louis palace, Rafe halted in front of a shabby train station and looked at a display board. It was covered with advertisements for land in Los Angeles and patent medicines, but he didn’t see his own face staring back at him. His guardian angel hadn’t come this far south. Judging by the run-down building, he probably wouldn’t.
Except a little ways down the track, Rafe saw a crew of men painting a brand-new building. The two-story structure boasted a pitched roof, large windows and elaborate cornices under the eaves. Judging by the location, he guessed the building was a new depot. He decided to keep his distance and turned back to Dr. Leaf’s clinic, where he left his horse in her stable.
Using the key she’d given him, he walked through the side door to the clinic and straight to the exam room. He’d forgotten about the mess he’d made when he kidnapped her. Broken glass lay on the floor and medicinal smells filled the air. The exam table was still on its side, a reminder that he’d tried to scare the daylights out of her and that she’d retaliated with a kick to his groin.
Rafe almost grinned at the memory. He’d had it coming and she’d delivered the blow like she kissed—with utter sincerity. He refused to think of kissing her as a mistake. He’d enjoyed it a bit too much, but that didn’t mean he cared about her. Even so, he couldn’t look away from the mess on the floor without feeling guilty. Because of him, she’d had a bad two days and her clinic was a shambles.
Rafe wasn’t accustomed to cleaning up his own messes. He usually left and didn’t look back, but he could still hear Dr. Leaf’s outrage.
You idiot! Those things cost money!
He’d planned on paying her for seeing Nick, enough to cover the damage and something extra for a warmer coat. But as he looked at the broken jars, money seemed like a token. It was the kind of thing his father would have done—ruin a poor woman’s Sunday dress with a splash of mud from his brougham and toss her a sawbuck.
I’m sorry…
Not once had Rafe heard the old man utter those words; nor was he inclined to say them himself. Remorse had no place in his life. Except he could see Dr. Leaf on her knees with a dustpan and a broom. The lady was right. He owed her an apology, probably two considering his offer to buy her buggy, but hell would freeze before he’d make one. Rafe figured guilt was like a hangover. A man could endure the headache until it faded on its own, or he could stay a little drunk.
He usually picked the whiskey, but Dr. Leaf deserved better. After retrieving the broom from a tall cupboard, he began sweeping the glass into a pile. The whisk of the straw took him back to New Orleans where his mother had made him sweep their apartment every day. They had lived alone in a tiny set of rooms in the French Quarter, but the rent had been paid by the man who had met Mimi LaCroix in a high-class brothel and claimed her for his own—by deed if not by law.
Rafe had called the man Papa, but he’d been more like a king. He had taken them for carriage rides into the countryside, given Rafe toys and made his mother laugh. The infrequency of the visits only made them more special—until Rafe heard the word “bastard” for the first time. He’d bloodied the kid’s nose, but it hadn’t stopped the bullying. Nor had it helped that his father took to visiting more often. Late at night, Rafe would hear
them making noises he now understood.
His stomach sickened at the thought. A pregnancy had killed his mother. Whether she’d miscarried on her own or had sought to end it, he didn’t know. But one thing was certain. He blamed the man who had made Mimi LaCroix his mistress.
After he’d finished sweeping, Rafe tipped the dustpan of glass into a trash bin and turned to the cupboard where he found the apothecary jars. He put the one marked echinacea in his pocket and then browsed the shelves for a bottle of whiskey to replace the one he’d emptied last night. He found a brown bottle, held it to the light and saw it was half-empty. Knowing Dr. Leaf, she would have a spare somewhere else.
Rafe walked into the back room and went through her desk. In the bottom drawer he discovered a stack of letters tied with a ribbon. Most were postmarked from Baltimore, but some were from a man named Silas in Wyoming. That surprised Rafe. So did a copy of Madame Bovary. He had read it on the sly in prep school. Most of the boys had, and they’d all snickered about Emma Bovary and her wanton ways. Being a boy, Rafe hadn’t understood the woman, but he did now. Lust and loneliness were a dangerous mix.
After closing the drawer, he opened a second one where—bless her heart—Dr. Leaf had a pint of Texas Gold. He took it and then perused the bookshelves for something for Nick. After passing up volumes by the Brontë sisters, he selected a collection of short stories by Mark Twain. He could have done without the memories of the Mississippi, but Nick would laugh at the jumping frog. He was about to leave when he spotted the candy jar on the doctor’s desk. Thinking of the kids, he took it and headed out the side door.
Rafe had one more mess to clean up. Seeing no one in the alley, he climbed the stairs to Dr. Leaf’s apartment and let himself in. Her undergarments were still in a tangle on the floor, so he knelt and pulled out drawers and a chemise. He gathered the remainder in his arms, jammed everything back into the highboy and opened the wardrobe holding her dresses. A navy skirt and striped shirtwaist looked like her office clothes, so he added them to the underthings.
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