He was about to close the wardrobe when a flash of blue caught his eye. Curious, he pushed aside her day dresses and took a long look at the sleekest ball gown he’d ever seen. The neckline dipped low, and the front was as smooth as skin. Beneath the heat of a man’s hand, the silk would melt until it disappeared entirely. Had she worn it to an East Coast gala? Had she waltzed with every man in the room or had someone special broken her heart? He didn’t know, but he was certain Timothy Duke didn’t know what he was missing.
Rafe did, though. Most women made love like they kissed, and she had a knack for it. Her first time…he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what it would be like to be that man. He’d never been anyone’s first—not a first son and not a first lover. But he knew what he’d do. If the opportunity knocked, he’d take Dr. Leaf on the ride of her life.
Rafe looked at her rumpled bed and saw her all over again. He’d start with slow kisses and build up her need. If she was skittish, he’d take even longer. But if she was ready to run, he’d touch and tease until she was crazy with wanting. Just thinking about her made him hard, but he also felt a pounding in his chest. First times mattered, and she’d remember him forever. But it would be best if she didn’t remember him at all.
Determined to block his thoughts, he took an old satchel from under her bed, set it on the rumpled sheets and packed it with the clothes, the book and the candy. He considered adding the apothecary jar, but decided it would be safer in his coat. As he lifted the satchel, his eyes strayed to her pillow. He’d never lie here with Dr. Leaf, but what harm could there be in stretching out for five minutes? After last night’s vigil, his eyes were as dry as paper. A catnap was just what he needed before the ride back to the Duke place.
Rafe stretched full length on the bed and tipped his hat over his eyes. Then he crossed his hands over his chest and his boots at the ankle. As his breathing deepened, the scent of her bedding filled his nose. When was the last time he’d smelled sun-dried cotton? He didn’t know. Nor had he read himself to sleep since Boston where he’d discovered Robert Louis Stevenson.
Smiling at the memory, Rafe relaxed into the mattress. Maybe he could find a copy of Kidnapped for Nick in some emporium between here and Mexico. Or maybe he’d filch Dr. Leaf’s copy of Madame Bovary and read to himself late at night on the trail, remembering her bed and the way she kissed.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Rafe jarred awake. Someone was knocking on the apartment door. “Dr. Sue?”
The voice was young, female and close to tears. Rafe damned himself for a fool. He should have left the note on the board like Susanna had asked. Instead he’d fallen asleep like a baby.
The visitor knocked again with even more desperation. “Are you there? It’s Melissa. Please…I have to talk to you.”
Rafe clenched his jaw. He hadn’t locked the door. If she turned the knob, he’d be forced to do something drastic. What the devil was wrong with him? Only a fool got caught lying in a woman’s bed with her underthings in a satchel. The bed would creak if he moved, so he couldn’t hide. He sure as hell didn’t want to pull his gun and tie her up. All he could do was lie still as he listened for the knob.
She knocked again…and again.
Every tap sounded like a nail in his coffin. But then he heard a thump, as if she had leaned her head on the door in defeat. When a choked sob filtered through the crack, he dared to hope. And when he heard footsteps on the stairs, he took a deep breath.
He waited five minutes to be sure Melissa was gone, then he jumped to his feet, snatched up the satchel and hurried to the front of the clinic where he’d seen Dr. Leaf’s blackboard. He lifted the chalk out of the tray and wrote “At the Duke ranch.”
Thankful to escape, Rafe headed for the alley.
“Mister?”
Three more steps and he would have been around the corner and out of sight. Instead he turned, being careful to stay in the bright sun so that his hat hid his face, and looked at Melissa Greene. The best way to stay anonymous was to act innocent, so he nodded politely. “Can I help you, miss?”
“I need Dr. Leaf.”
“She’s at the Duke place. Chester got hurt.” When she looked befuddled, he added a lie. “I’m the new hand.”
“I see.” Her shoulders sagged and she pressed her hand to her belly as if she were about to puke.
Rafe had been in enough whorehouses with expecting women to recognize the gesture. Thanks to Zeke Benton, she was a carrying a secret she wouldn’t be able to keep for much longer. He wanted to give her some comfort, but what could he say? He settled for making his voice gentle. “Can I give her a message?”
“No!” The girl turned red with embarrassment. “I’m not sick or anything. I just need to talk to her.”
Rafe clenched his jaw to keep from talking. Shame had no place in this girl’s life or her baby’s life, but Zeke Benton had damned her to the judgment of fools. She deserved to know that he’d paid for his crime. But if Rafe told her about the man’s death, she’d talk. Word would spread around town, and the sheriff would ask her questions about how she heard the news.
But at the sight of her puffy eyes, Rafe felt about an inch tall. Three days ago, he could have walked away and not looked back. He could have forgotten the girl and lied to Susanna. In his line of work, he fibbed all the time. It was second nature. But a small part of him didn’t want to take that road with Susanna. She deserved better.
Deliberately slouching to disguise his height, he looked at Melissa. “I’m wondering if you would do Dr. Leaf a favor.”
“What is it?”
“She sent me to town for some medicine, and I’m in a hurry to get back. Would you tell the sheriff that Chester’s been shot? He ran into the Bentons in Outlaw Alley, the trail that runs west of here. He’ll know where it is.”
The girl nodded solemnly. “I’ll go right now.”
“You can also tell him that Zeke Benton’s dead.”
Worried that she’d ask questions, Rafe pivoted and strode toward the corner of the building.
“Mister, wait! What’s your name?”
Keeping a leisurely pace, he raised his hand in farewell, giving her a good look at his ponytail so that she’d remember his hair and not his face. He didn’t want to cut it off unless his guardian angel closed in, but at least he had the option.
With his hair brushing between his shoulders, Rafe turned the corner to the stable, climbed on the roan and headed back to the Duke ranch.
Chapter Nine
Where did hope end and foolishness begin?
Susanna had spent the day at Nick’s bedside, asking herself that question. The infection was spreading, and every minute that passed without the echinacea brought Nick closer to an amputation. She didn’t want to make that decision without Rafe. Even accounting for the bad weather, he should have been back hours ago.
Standing alone on the front porch, Susanna peered into the rain from beneath the shelter of the long eaves. Supper had been a dismal event with the girls missing Chester and talking in hushed tones. As soon as the dishes were done, they had gone to bed and Tim had excused himself to do paperwork, leaving her free to catch a breath of air.
The silence of dusk usually calmed her, but she felt herself straining to hear the splash of hoofbeats. As she huddled inside Emily’s shawl, vicious pictures filled her mind…of Rafe lying dead on the trail, the Bentons invading the Duke home and, just as awful, of herself taking off Nick’s leg. As thirsty as Nick was, he couldn’t keep anything down—not even water. The fever had stayed high and he’d mistaken her for his mother, weeping when he realized where he was. Then he’d cried out for Rafe. She had tried to explain that his friend had gone for medicine, but the boy hadn’t understood.
Susanna rubbed the muscles in her neck as she breathed a prayer for Nick. She said one for Rafe, too. Whether he’d admit it or not, he was a troubled man. Nick would have a scar, maybe a limp. If he lost the leg, he’d walk with crutches. Rafe’s scars were
on his heart and mind. They made him unpredictable, even dangerous.
“Susanna?”
Turning, she saw Tim standing in the doorway with two cups of coffee. As the door swung shut, he handed her the steaming blue enamel. “I thought you might be chilled out here,” he said.
Touched that he’d thought of her, she took a generous swallow, savoring the heat as it filled her stomach. She lowered the cup and smiled at him. “Thank you.”
For a man standing on his own porch, Tim seemed ill at ease. “What do you think happened to LaCroix?”
“I don’t know.”
“If it weren’t for the kid, I’d be glad to see him gone.”
Susanna bristled, but what could she say? He shared his whiskey and saw into my heart…he listened like a friend…
Until he’d turned back into a jackass.
Even so, she was worried about him and Nick needed the medicine. Rather than argue with Tim, she sipped her coffee. She had just taken a swallow when he stepped a little closer. “About that dance…would you like to go with the kids and me?”
No, she wanted to go with him. She wanted to wear her blue satin dress and think about kissing and romance and snuggling in the dark. But at the same time, she knew a baby step when she saw one. Hoping to feel a bit of excitement, she smiled at him. “I’d like it a lot. It’s supposed to be very nice.”
“Then it’s settled.” With a flick of his wrist, Tim dumped the dregs of his coffee over the railing as if he’d just made a business deal with a fellow rancher. Where was the romance?
Susanna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was a thoughtless gesture, but it was also his nature. Looking up at him, she wondered if he’d ever felt more awkward in his life and took pity on him. “We’ll have a nice time,” she said.
Tim nodded and then looked toward the barn. “I better get to the chores. Without Chester—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“I understand,” she said. “Go ahead.”
After setting the cup on the railing, Tim strode across the yard without glancing back. Susanna raised her own cup to her lips, but the liquid was lukewarm and disappointing. She drank it anyway, hoping for a jolt of energy, but instead she tasted the sugary dregs and felt foolish. Bethany had taken sugar in her coffee. Susanna drank hers black and strong. Mildly nauseated, she dumped the last few sips over the railing just as Tim had.
Had she been wrong to say yes to him about the dance? Until a few Sundays ago, they had been friends and it had seemed reasonable to hope for sparks. But that was before she’d kissed Rafe LaCroix, whom she was going to cheerfully murder when he showed up.
If he showed up…
Hugging herself against the chill, she started to hum one of the old spirituals she’d learned from Silas Jones, her father’s best friend and the man who’d brought her to Midas when she’d run away from Washington. She’d been traveling as a boy named Sam and Silas had come to her rescue. He’d also opened her eyes to God’s love in a way no one else had. She still wrote to Silas once a month and always got the same reply.
I’m proud to know you, Sam…. Do good and love hard…you can’t go wrong with that.
Silas had been her first true friend. Tonight, even humming alone, she felt the old harmony in her heart. It soothed her worries, but an even deeper relief came when she heard the slosh of hooves coming down the trail.
Please, God…let it be Rafe….
The rider came into the yard at a trot, reined in his horse and jumped to the ground. As soon as she saw Rafe, she knew that he’d had a hard time. Streams of rain dripped from his hat, and steam rose in a cloud from the horse’s withers. The roan had been ridden hard through the mountains where the storm had been most severe.
Susanna stepped into the drizzle. “What happened?”
He didn’t look her in the eye. “Things took longer in town. Then I got spooked about five miles out. I thought I was being followed, so I cut through Needle Canyon.”
Susanna winced. The narrow ravine would have funneled wind and rain into a torrent of water. Sometimes the trail disappeared completely in mud. She never rode through Needle Canyon and wanted to scold Rafe for taking that chance. But instead she shivered at the reason for his detour. “Did you see someone? Did the Bentons—”
He cut her off. “How’s Nick?”
Later she’d finish her question, but first he needed to hear about the boy. “He’s a fighter,” she said. “I’ll brew the tea right now.”
The hardness in Rafe’s eyes melted to raw pain. “He’s worse, isn’t he?”
Susanna never lied about her patients. “Yes, but there’s hope. Take care of your horse and then come inside. Nick will be happy to see you.”
Rafe led his horse to the barn, while Susanna went to the kitchen to brew tea and make a fresh poultice. She hadn’t said it to Rafe, but if the boy’s condition didn’t improve soon, she’d have to take the leg off to save his life. She added a handful of herbs to the teakettle and set it to boil. Then she used Emily’s mortar and pestle to mash another mix of leaves for a poultice. After spreading the paste on a cotton square, she folded it tight, dipped it in a pot of boiling water and squeezed away the excess before setting it aside.
When she could smell the tea, she filled a cup and carried everything into Nick’s room on a tray. Just as she expected, the boy was tossing in his sleep. She set the tray on the end table, sat in a hard chair and placed the poultice on his leg. After covering it with a towel to keep in the heat, she lifted the cup.
“Nick?” she said softly.
As she slipped her arm around his shoulders, the boy’s eyes fluttered open.
“Rafe’s back with the medicine. I’m going help you sit up so you can drink it.”
“Where is he?” asked the boy.
“Right here.”
Rafe’s deep voice had come from behind her. She heard something thud against the floor but couldn’t look while she was holding the tea and trying to lift Nick’s head. She wished she’d asked him to bring some of the paper straws she ordered from a catalog.
He must have seen the awkwardness, because he wedged himself between the chair and the nightstand and put his arm behind the boy’s back. His reach pinned her hand between his muscular forearm and the boy’s torso. As she extricated herself, his sleeve pulled back so that she felt a patch of cool male skin. He must have been half frozen by the ride and he had to be hungry. As soon as she took care of Nick, she’d warm his supper.
Using both hands, she raised the cup to the boy’s lips for another swallow. She knew the tea tasted awful, but Nick didn’t seem to care. She took it as a bad sign. Neither was she encouraged when he fell back to sleep without trying to talk to Rafe. Aware of the boy’s weakness, Rafe had lowered him to the pillow and stepped away from the bed.
As Susanna set the cup on the nightstand, Rafe bent to pick up the object he’d set on the floor. “I brought a few things besides the medicine.”
Her satchel. She had carried it close to three-thousand miles. It had held secrets, hope and the fears of a fourteen-year-old girl. The leather was worn, but the old case was her most cherished possession. It was also a reminder that she’d once been on the run and afraid of being found—just like Rafe LaCroix.
As she lifted the leather from his hand, Susanna wondered what she’d tell her friend about Rafe when she wrote her next letter. She had a knack for spinning tales and this one was a dime novel.
Dear Silas,
I was kidnapped by a bounty hunter who’s teaching an orphan to read. He speaks French and reads Greek myths. He seems kind, but he’s also unbearably disrespectful. I’d like to wash his mouth out with soap. I’d like…
Unable to complete the thought, Susanna held the satchel as Rafe pulled up a second chair. Dressed in dungarees and a chambray shirt, he looked like an ordinary ranch hand, but his face held an intelligence she didn’t often encounter. She liked sparring with him, and she sensed a battle of wits was about to begin.
After shifting the bag in her lap, she worked the familiar buckle. “What did you bring?”
He teased her with a smile. “Your unmentionables. Considering I’d already ransacked your bureau, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Her cheeks turn slightly pink. He could have asked her for permission, but she suspected he didn’t often ask for anything. She decided to honor his good intentions. “I’m glad you did. People have to be practical.”
Their gazes met from a distance she could have spanned with a touch. But even more personal was the glimmer of respect in his eye and the tilt of his mouth. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Doc. You’re not shy.”
“What’s the point?” she said. “The human body’s hardly a mystery.”
Rafe gave a soft laugh. “Is that a fact? It seems to me a woman’s body is the most mysterious thing on earth. Think about it—”
“I’d rather not.”
Trying to look peeved, she reached inside the satchel and discovered her navy skirt and a shirtwaist, stockings and the candy jar she kept on her desk. She’d stocked it two days ago with a mix from the Midas Emporium. In addition to the peppermints she considered medicinal, it held a rainbow of butterscotch, licorice whips, gumdrops and the chewy Tootsie Rolls she’d asked Mrs. Wingate to order from New York City. When it came to chocolate, Susanna had no shame. It was also a safer topic than the mysteries of a woman’s body.
She lifted the jar from the satchel and set it on the nightstand. “I see you found my vice.”
Rafe arched his brows. “You call that a vice? A sweet tooth isn’t even a bad habit. Whiskey, gambling, smoking opium—those are vices.”
“You sound like an expert.”
“I am.”
Susanna felt a chill. “Even the opium?”
“I’ve tried it,” he said, sounding wise.
When he leaned back in the chair and gave her a sidelong glance, Susanna realized that Rafe was trying to scare her. It wouldn’t work. Wolves in the wild didn’t warn their prey, and that’s what he was doing with her.
Midnight Marriage Page 10