Forbidden Fires

by Madeline Baker

  “I don’t know,” Paulie said, shaking his head, “I can’t picture Abner dressing up like an Indian and stealing the herd.”

  “I can,” Rusty said with conviction. “So, what are we gonna do?”

  “For now, nothing,” Rafe said. “We’ve got no proof other than the word of a dead man.” He ran a hand through his hair and over the growth sprouting on his chin. “Scott and Nate should be turning up any day now. I kinda thought they’d be here by now.”

  “You look beat, boss,” Paulie remarked. “Why don’t you go up to the house and get cleaned up?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. You two keep your eyes open. I’m afraid we may be in for more trouble before this is over.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scott and Nate returned to the ranch two days later. Both men looked a little pale and a trifle thin, but both had fully recovered from their wounds and seemed to be in good spirits. They’d had to hole up several times to avoid being spotted by Indians, Scott said, but other than that, their journey had been uneventful.

  Rafe and the men got together in the tack room that night after dinner, and Scott repeated what Web had said about seeing Abner Wylie riding with the Indians.

  Rafe rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Maybe they weren’t Indians at all,” he mused aloud. “All the pony tracks I saw were made with shod hooves.”

  “Not Injuns,” Paulie exclaimed. “You don’t mean to tell me you think white men attacked the herd and scalped Wishful and the others?”

  Rafe shrugged. “If the price is right, you can find men who are willing to do just about anything.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Paulie insisted, shaking his head. “I rode with Abner for almost five years.”

  Rafe glanced out the door, his expression thoughtful. The two Crow warriors who had attacked Caitlyn had been Indians, sure enough, but what about the ones who had stolen the herd? He hadn’t seen any of them up close. During the attack it hadn’t occurred to him that the raiders might be white men dressed up like Indians. He recalled the bodies of Wishful Potter and the others. All had been crudely scalped. Looking back, he remembered thinking that the warrior who had taken Potter’s scalp didn’t have much experience judging by the sloppy job he’d done.

  “Listen, Paulie,” Rafe said, “I want you and Nate to stay close to the house from now on. Scott, you and Rusty go out and round up whatever cattle you can find. I think we’ll keep what’s left of the herd close to home for the time being. And keep your guns handy.”

  The men nodded. If Abner Wylie was looking for a fight, he’d get one.

  “What about you?” Paulie asked. “Maybe you’d better start wearing a sidearm. It’s a lot easier than packing a rifle everywhere you go.”

  Rafe grunted thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. I’m going into town to see if I can buy a couple of draft horses to replace those we lost in the fire.” His jaw went hard. “I’ll see if I can find a couple of men, too. We might need the extra help.”

  “I’ll go along with you,” Rusty offered.

  “No, I want you to stay here.” He let his gaze light on each man’s face. “I don’t want to worry Caitlyn with any of this until I know for sure there’s something to worry about.”

  * * * * *

  Rafe insisted on going into town alone, telling Caitlyn she needed to stay home and rest. Mounted on the bald-faced bay he had stolen from the Cheyenne, he rode into Cedar Creek. He knew Caitlyn was broke, but he had enough money to meet the payroll for the next few months. The money, won playing poker at Frenchy’s, made a comfortable bulge in his hip pocket. Paying off the loan at the bank was another matter. Apparently the Circle C had fallen on some hard times four years earlier and Carmichael had borrowed six thousand dollars from the bank. That loan was due October 1. He figured there were about a hundred head of cattle left on the ranch. Carmichael had never run a big herd, most of his business had been tied up in mustangs, catching them, breaking them, and selling them to the Army. Only they hadn’t had any luck with horses in the last year, either, thanks to the Indians.

  The town was quiet when he rode in. He turned his horse toward the blacksmith shop, knowing if there were any draft horses for sale, the smith would likely know about it.

  As it turned out, Clyde Hooper wasn’t aware of any animals for sale at the moment, but he said he’d keep his ears open and let Rafe know if he heard of any.

  Rafe’s next stop was the gun shop. He had never worn a six-gun, preferring a knife or a good Winchester rifle, but he could see the wisdom of wearing one, especially now. After a few minutes of deliberation, he selected a .44 Colt, a black leather holster, and gunbelt. The .44 felt heavy on his hip and he drew it a few times, getting used to the feel of it in his hand. He bought enough ammunition to supply a small army and stuffed it into his saddlebags, then rode to the saloon, knowing any unemployed cowhands would likely be there this time of day. But it was not really cowhands he was looking for. He wanted a couple of gunmen.

  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the saloon’s dim interior after being out in the bright sunlight. Glancing around, he saw that the room was empty save for the ruddy-faced bartender and two men sitting at a table in the far corner. One of the men was Abner Wylie.

  Abner was looking prosperous, all decked out in a red silk shirt, whipcord britches, and a pair of hundred-dollar snakeskin boots. A new cream-colored Stetson was pushed back on his head.

  Unconsciously, Rafe’s hand rested on the butt of his Colt as Wylie glanced up and met his gaze. A long silence passed between the two men, and Rafe knew without asking that Wylie was the man behind the attack on the Circle C cattle.

  Rafe’s hand caressed the smooth walnut butt of the Colt. It would be madness to draw against Wylie. The man was fast, too fast, and yet he deserved to die.

  Wylie stood up slowly, his hand hovering near his holster, a challenge in his eyes as he waited for the half-breed to make the first move.

  The saloon doors swung open and a tall, sloop-shouldered man stepped inside. He glanced at the two men who stood staring at each other at the far end of the room, and then addressed the bartender.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded.

  “Nothing, Sheriff,” the bartender answered. “Yet.”

  Abner grinned as he sat down, but his pale blue eyes never left the half-breed’s face.

  “Stay away from the Circle C,” Rafe said quietly. “We know who stampeded the herd.”

  “What herd?” Abner asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Abner shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Old man Web recognized one of the rustlers. He lived just long enough to identify the man. If I ever see the murderin’ bastard near the Circle C, I’ll kill him without a call.”

  “Hey!” the sheriff called. “That’s pretty strong talk.”

  “Yes,” Rafe agreed, his gaze on Wylie’s face. “It is.” He backed toward the door, his hand still resting on his gun butt. “Good day to you, Sheriff.”

  Abner let out a sigh, releasing the tension that had been building inside ever since Gallegher entered the saloon. So, he mused, Web had identified him. Well, it didn’t matter. The old man was dead but Gallegher knew, and that was dangerous.

  Frowning, Abner emptied his glass and poured himself another drink. The idea of stealing the Circle C herd had come to him months ago in this very chair. He had been quietly cursing Rafe Gallegher, wondering how he could get even with the man who had stolen his job at the Circle C and his woman, when he had overheard Frank Weiss, one of the bankers at Cedar Creek Bank and Trust, telling the bartender that the Circle C was driving a herd to Laramie to raise money to pay off their bank loan.

  Just like that, Abner had known what he was going to do. In one fell swoop, he would get back at Gallegher for stealing his job and at Caitlyn for marrying a dirty half-breed. He’d steal the herd, s
ell the cattle, and buy the Circle C when it was put at auction to pay off the loan.

  Or maybe, he mused now, he’d go to Caitlyn and offer to give her the money to pay off the loan if she’d divorce Gallegher and marry him.

  Abner grinned as he tossed off his drink. He couldn’t lose, he thought smugly. Even if Caitlyn refused to marry him, he’d still be a winner because he’d have the Circle C. He chuckled as he recalled how easy it had been to steal the herd. He’d hired ten drifters to dress up like Indians, and paid them a hundred bucks apiece to run off the herd. The killing and scalping hadn’t been his idea, but he’d had to admit it added just the right touch of reality. After paying off the men, he’d pocketed seven thousand dollars, more than enough to pay off the loan.

  Congratulating himself on a job well done, he poured himself another drink. The whiskey was the best the house had to offer, but he could afford it.

  * * * * *

  Caitlyn was standing on the porch when Rafe rode into the yard. She looked at him askance when he dismounted and she saw the gun riding his right hip.

  Rafe shrugged. “Paulie suggested it,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

  “Why?”

  “What’s for supper, Caitlyn?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “He mentioned that wearing a gun was easier than toting a rifle around all the time, and he’s right. A cowboy needs two free hands. That’s all. What’s for supper?”

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, Rafe. You tell me.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Caitlyn. Nothing but a hungry husband who spent a long day in town.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Maybe she had a right to know. It was her ranch, after all, her men who had been killed, her cattle that had been stolen. “Let’s go inside,” he said.

  Caitlyn listened with growing disbelief as Rafe repeated what Scott had told him at the fort and what had been discussed in the tack room.

  “Abner?” Caitlyn shook her head. “Why would Abner attack us? He used to ride for the Circle C. He—he wanted to marry me.”

  “You refused him.”

  “But that’s no reason to kill men he’d ridden with, no reason to steal our cattle.” She shook her head again. “No. I won’t believe it. Web must have been mistaken.”

  “I saw Wylie in town this morning,” Rafe said quietly. “He did it. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “He told you he’d done it?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can you be so sure?”

  “I know, Caty. I just know.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We are not going to do anything. I’ll take care of whatever has to be done.”

  “That’s why you bought the gun.”

  “Yeah.”

  She went to him then, needing to feel his arms around her. She had never liked Abner Wylie, but she would never have suspected him of being the kind of man who would turn on his friends for no better reason than a rejected marriage proposal. Surely there was more to it than the fact that she had married someone else.

  Frowning, she recalled the hatred that had blazed in his eyes the night of the Fourth of July dance when Rafe had knocked him down. Before that, Abner had accused Rafe of stealing his job as head wrangler. And to top it off, Rafe had married her.

  She drew away from Rafe and gazed up at him. “He’s doing all this because of you, isn’t he?”

  She had not meant to speak the words aloud, and she regretted them instantly. Rafe had felt guilty because there were those in town who shunned her because she had married him, and now there was trouble with Abner. Men had been killed. She’d come close to being raped. And he felt responsible.

  “I didn’t mean it that the way it sounded,” Caitlyn said quickly. “I’m not blaming you.”

  “Why not? If you’d married Wylie, none of this would have happened.”

  “Rafe—”

  “Let it be, Caty,” he said heavily. “Just let it be.”

  She felt her heart turn to stone as he left the room.

  Outside, Rafe swung atop the bay gelding and rode down the valley, his thoughts turned inward. He never should have married Caitlyn, he mused ruefully. He had caused her nothing but trouble from the start. The fact that he was a half-breed had estranged her from some of her friends in town. And now Wylie was apparently seeking revenge for all the wrongs, real or imagined, that he blamed on Caitlyn’s husband. No doubt Wylie figured that, with Rafe out of the way, he would somehow win Caitlyn’s hand and the ranch, too.

  Perhaps she would be better off with Wylie… He mouthed a foul oath at the mere idea. She was his. She would always be his. But she would probably be better off without him.

  He drew the bay to a halt near the pool, remembering the day he had made love to Caitlyn in the soft grass beneath a canopy of green leaves and bright blue sky. How could he even think of leaving her?

  He stared at the calm pool, its depths as green as Caitlyn’s eyes. Perhaps he was worrying too much about Wylie. The man would be a fool to try anything else now, knowing that Rafe was wise to him. Surely even Wylie wouldn’t be that stupid.

  He tapped his heels against the bay’s flanks, and the gelding broke into a fast-paced walk. Rafe gave the horse its head, content to do nothing but enjoy the feel of the horse beneath him and the slight breeze that fanned his face. He emptied his mind of all thought, his senses filling with the scent of the earth, the trees, the scattered wildflowers, the sheer beauty of the vast blue sky. His eyes swept the land, lingering on the flight of a red-tailed hawk as it rode the air currents, then plummeted to earth, talons outstretched, as it attacked some unwary rodent. He saw an elk in the distance, and farther on, a white-tailed deer.

  It was dark when he turned for home.

  Caitlyn was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes. She did not hear him come in, and he stood in the doorway, his hip resting against the door jamb, watching her. Her hair hung in a single braid down her back. His gaze moved over her slender shoulders, the narrow span of her waist, her straight back and softly rounded hips. She was wearing a simple green dress that was one of his favorites.

  Just looking at her filled him with a sense of contentment, of belonging. Walking into the house earlier, he had experienced a sense of homecoming. It was a feeling he had not known before and Caitlyn was responsible for it. She had made her home his, and he was determined to see that she didn’t lose it because she loved him. She had spoken the words before, but he had been reluctant to accept them, reluctant to believe.

  Caitlyn became aware of Rafe’s presence in the room and she turned around, her eyes brimming with joy at seeing him standing hipshot in the doorway, and then her expression grew wary as she recalled how he had walked out on her earlier.

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” she said. His steady gaze unsettled her. Her tongue licked her lower lip as she braced herself for bad news.

  “Caitlyn.”

  “Wh—what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He grinned sheepishly. “I just like saying your name.”

  She cocked her head to the side, bemused. He didn’t sound like he was getting ready to leave her, and that had been her greatest fear.

  He held up his hand and beckoned to her and she went to him without hesitation. His arms were a welcome haven and she laid her head against his shoulder, baffled by his odd behavior. He held her close for a long time, saying nothing while his fingertips caressed her cheek, then slid around the back of her neck to massage her nape. His touch was hypnotic, stirring her blood, making her heart begin to dance.

  Gently, he placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head. His eyes smiled into hers, capturing her gaze. He had beautiful eyes, she thought, deep and dark, filled with fire. His straight brows and short, thick lashes were a perfect frame for those beautiful
eyes.

  She was drowning in his gaze when he lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth was warm and soft as it moved over hers, his tongue a silken flame as it slid across her lips. Her head fell back over his arm, her lips parted to receive him. She felt his hand move to her buttocks, and then he drew her close, grinding their hips together so that she could feel his need for her.

  “Caty, Caty,” he murmured, his breath warm and intimate against her ear. His tongue wove its spell along the side of her neck, and she shivered with delight.

  Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms, his eyes on her face, a question in their glowing depths.

  He wanted her, now, but he was asking her permission. She knew it, even though no words had been said. Feeling suddenly shy, she nodded, her arms wrapping around his neck.

  “Caty!” He kissed her hard, and then he was carrying her out of the kitchen, down the hallway toward their bedroom. Gently, he placed her on the bed, then moved to draw the curtains.

  She followed his every move, her heart pounding like a drum as he came to stand beside the bed. Slowly, deliberately, provocatively, he began to undress, making her heart beat faster and faster as he slid out of his shirt, pulled off his boots, stockings, and trousers. He wore no underwear and now stood naked before her, tall and strong and handsome. And very male. She smiled at the evidence of his desire.

  Rafe cocked one black brow at her. “You find me amusing?” he asked, grinning wickedly. “Or are you merely feeling superior because you can hide your lustful thoughts while mine are blatantly obvious?”

  “Neither,” Caitlyn replied, her smile as radiant as the summer sun. “I’m smiling because you’re beautiful, and because you’re here with me.”

  “There’s no place I’d rather be,” Rafe said softly.

  He dropped one knee on the bed and began to undress her, the heat from his gaze bringing a flush to her cheeks, making her skin tingle with yearning. His hands made short work of undressing her and then he sank down on the bed beside her, his arms drawing her close. His hands stroked her hips and thighs, stirring the embers of desire into a raging inferno that culminated in wonder and fulfillment such as Caitlyn had never known. Later, lying in his arms, she was surprised to find the sheets unscorched, the pillows not in flames.