by Smith, Bobbi
“You’re right about that,” he agreed.
Rachel ran up the broken-down steps to the cover of the small porch. She shoved open the rotting front door and went inside.
Clint spotted a decrepit lean-to around back and took his horse there so the animal could have some shelter from the storm. Carrying his rifle, bedroll, and saddlebags with him, he joined Rachel inside and closed the door behind him.
Clint set his belongings down on the floor before looking around. He hadn’t expected much more than a roof over their heads, so he wasn’t disappointed. The abandoned one-room house was dirty, and the roof was leaking in several places. Still, it could have been a lot worse. They could have still been outside.
A flash of lightning lit up the place, and it was then that Clint got his first good look at Rachel. She was standing across the small room from him, drenched and visibly shaking. Her dark hair was half unbound and hanging loose and wet about her shoulders, and her shirtwaist gown was soaked. It was a modest garment, but now that it was soaking wet, it clung to her slender figure, outlining her very feminine curves. For a moment, he couldn’t look away, and then he forced himself to lower his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again, going to her.
“I—I think so.”
“What were you doing out here in the middle of this storm all by yourself?” He was surprised that her father would let her ride out alone.
She quickly told him about the trip to the Franklin ranch and her mother’s decision to stay on. “I was on my way home to let my father know when the storm came up real fast. The lightning spooked my horse. He bolted and wrecked the buggy. I unhitched him, because I thought I could ride him back to town, but then the lightning started up again and he got away from me.”
“You sure you’re not hurt?” His expression was concerned as he looked her over again.
“No, I’m just wet,” she said, finally relaxing a bit and managing a smile at him.
“There’s no way to avoid getting soaked in weather like this. It’s blowing so hard out there right now, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a twister come through.”
Worried by the prospect, Rachel went to look out one of the windows at the still raging storm. “It is nasty out there. Thank heaven you came along when you did. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“It was pure luck that I came across you.”
“It wasn’t luck.” She turned away from the window to look up at him. “You were the answer to my prayer.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. You rode up just when I had finished praying to be rescued.”
“I’ve never been the answer to anybody’s prayers before,” he said with a wry grin.
“Well, you were tonight. Your timing was perfect, and I’m almost beginning to think you might be my guardian angel, the way you keep showing up to help me whenever I’m in trouble.”
Rachel heard a terrible roaring sound outside and quickly looked out the window again. The wind was so fierce, the rain appeared to be blowing sideways.
“Why don’t you get over here away from that window? I don’t like the way that sounds,” Clint warned. He’d never been caught in a tornado, but he’d seen the damage they could do and knew they were deadly.
Rachel did as he suggested, coming back to stand in the middle of the darkened room. “I wonder how long this is going to last. My father will be getting worried. He’s expecting Mother and I to be home tonight.”
“The moment it lets up, we can head into town, but from the way things are looking right now, I don’t think that’s going to be anytime soon.”
“We might as well try to get comfortable while we wait it out,” Rachel suggested.
They took another look around the place. The only furnishings that had been left behind when the family moved on were two ramshackle straight-backed chairs and a broken-down bed frame with no mattress.
“I think it must have been a while since anyone lived here,” Clint said.
“Over two years,” she told him. “The family that owned the place belonged to our church. They fell on some real hard times and had to move on.”
“Too bad, but at least they left us something to sit on.” Clint dragged the chairs to a place in the room where there were no leaks.
Lightning lit up the room for a moment, and Rachel spotted a lamp on the floor near the foot of the bed. She hurried over to check it out.
“We’ve got a lamp!” she told Kane excitedly, but her mood quickly sobered. “Not that it’s going to do us any good. I don’t have any matches.”
“I do.” He went to his saddlebags and dug them out. “But does it have any oil?”
“A little. It should last us for a while.”
There was no telling how long it had been since the lamp had been used, but they didn’t care. What mattered was finally having some decent light in the cabin. They lit the lamp and put it on the shelf over the small fireplace. Knowing Clint had more matches, Rachel considered starting a fire, but after taking a look at the fireplace, she realized, that it had deteriorated too much to be of use.
She settled in, ready to wait out the storm. She had to admit to herself that if she had to be stranded with anyone, she was thrilled she was stranded with Kane. She studied him as he came to sit in the other chair.
“I told you my story. Now why were you out riding in weather like this?” Rachel asked.
“I had some business in Silver Pass I had to take care of, and I was on my way back to Dry Springs, too.” As he spoke, another powerful, roaring gust of wind and rain battered the building. He tensed, almost believing the cabin was going to be leveled.
Rachel couldn’t help herself. She started laughing as she listened to the driving rain. “I don’t think it’s very dry in Dry Springs right now.”
“I think you’re right,” Clint agreed, actually laughing out loud at her jest.
It was the first time she’d ever heard him laugh. It was a deep, mellow sound, and as her gaze went over him, she realized again just how attracted she was to him.
“You should laugh more often,” she said in a throaty voice.
Her words sobered him. “Sometimes there’s not a lot to laugh about in life.”
“But sometimes there is,” she countered. “Like wondering what the odds were that we’d end up stranded in an abandoned shack together in the midst of this terrible storm.”
The moment Rachel said she was wondering what the odds were, Clint found himself smiling at her. “You know, your father is a preacher. He wouldn’t approve of any kind of gambling, now would he?”
At that, Rachel grinned back at him. “You’re right, but if it meant he’d show up here right now to stage a protest, I’d be willing to risk it.”
They both liked the idea of her father doing just that.
“I don’t think he’s going to show up, though,” Clint said.
“I know. We’ll just have to wait for the storm to pass before we can head home.”
“And you don’t want to make any bets on how long it’s going to last?”
“No,” she answered with a grin.
Clint was entranced by her smile. He’d always known she was lovely, but there in the flickering lamplight, Rachel was absolutely beautiful. A part of him silently hoped the storm would last all night so they would have this time together, but the serious side of him warned against allowing himself to care for her. He was in Dry Springs for one reason only, and it wasn’t to court the preacher’s daughter.
Chapter Eleven
Rachel was uncomfortable as she sat there in her wet clothes, but there was nothing she could do about it. She consoled herself with the thought that they were lucky this hadn’t happened during the winter months. Just the thought of those cold temperatures made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” Clint asked, ready to offer her his slicker. It wasn’t much, but he thought it might help a little.
“I’ll b
e all right. I was just thinking about how bad this would be in the winter.”
“The good news is it’s not January. There’s no way we could get a fire going in the fireplace.” He could see the water dripping in the damaged chimney.
“Are you hungry?” Rachel asked, remembering the sweet roll her mother had given her for her trip. At the time, she’d thought she wouldn’t eat it until she got home, but now she was grateful for the sustenance. Her mother had baked the rolls the night before and had taken them along as a treat for the Franklin family.
“I’ve got some hardtack,” Clint offered. He was hungry, but he’d been looking forward to getting a decent meal in town, not eating hardtack.
“What about a sweet roll?”
“You’ve got a sweet roll and you’re willing to share?”
“I’m my father’s daughter,” Rachel said. “And, yes, it’s right here.”
She got her bag, took out the sweet roll, and unwrapped it. She broke it in half, then handed him his portion. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He took a bite of the pastry, then said, “This is really good.”
“My mother baked it.”
“Tell her for me that it’s delicious.”
“One of these days you can tell her yourself.”
“I’ll do that.”
Rachel took a bite of her half of the sweet roll. They both fell silent as they enjoyed their “meal.”
“That was the best dinner I’ve had in a while. It was definitely better than my hardtack,” Clint told her.
“My mother is a wonderful cook,” Rachel agreed, getting up to take another look out the window.
It was almost completely dark outside now, and the roar of the storm continued unabated. She’d been concerned when they’d first taken refuge in the shack, but now that it was getting late, she feared they really might not make it back to town that night.
“You look worried,” he said, watching her.
“What time do you think it is?”
“It’s probably close to eight-thirty.” Clint got up and went to stand by her side, where he gazed out at the sky. “The rain hasn’t let up much, but if you want to, we can ride out. It won’t be easy, but we can try to make it.”
“I wish we could,” Rachel told him, “but since it’s getting dark, I don’t think it’s safe. The terrain is rugged, and I’m sure there’s some flooding.”
She was very aware of Kane’s presence as he stood beside her. She looked up at him, taking in the broad, powerful width of his chest and shoulders, and the hard, lean line of his jaw, dark now with a day’s growth of beard. She was surprised when she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. As she imagined it, excitement tingled through her.
Clint happened to glance down at her just then, and he went still as he saw the desire in her eyes. A hunger stirred deep within him, and he didn’t try to deny it. He reached out and drew her to him, then without saying a word, as a deep roll of thunder echoed across the countryside, he kissed her.
His kiss was tentative at first. He didn’t want to frighten her with the power of the desire he felt for her, but when Rachel moaned softly in response and moved closer, he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the exchange.
Rachel’s heartbeat quickened. She responded hungrily to his kiss. She clung to Kane, thrilled to be in his arms. It seemed to her she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Clint crushed her to him as his lips moved possessively, hungrily over hers. The feel of her soft curves against him fed the fire of his need. There was no denying he wanted her. He had from the first moment he’d set eyes on her.
Rachel was in ecstasy.
This was Kane.
Just a short time ago, she’d feared she would never see him again, and now they were alone together. She wanted to stay in his arms. She wanted to be with him always.
Clint was savoring every moment of holding Rachel. He never wanted to let her go, but he knew he had to. Rachel was beauty and innocence and all woman, and because she was, he had to end the embrace before things got out of hand. As chaste as she was, he was certain she had no idea how much he wanted her, and since it looked as if they were going to end up spending the night alone together in the cabin, he didn’t want to let his desire for her overrule his common sense.
With great reluctance, Clint ended the kiss. He gazed down at her and saw the bewilderment in her expression.
“You are a very tempting woman, Rachel Hammond,” he told her, putting her from him.
She was puzzled. She didn’t know why he’d stopped kissing her. She wanted to go back into his arms and stay there, but his next words stopped her.
“But you are the preacher’s daughter.”
His words jarred her back to reality.
“Oh—”
Conflicting feelings assailed Rachel as she stood there, momentarily lost in the confusion of the battle between her emotions and reason.
Clint knew they both needed a distraction, so he went to his saddlebags and rifled through them.
“Since we’re going to be stuck here a while longer, you want to have a little fun?” he asked when he found what he’d been looking for.
“I thought we were having fun,” she said, feeling a little wild.
Clint bit back a groan at her remark. In her innocence, she was the perfect, if unknowing, seductress. He could only imagine what she would have been like if she’d known what she was doing and the effect she had on him.
“That kind of fun will only get us in trouble. I’ve got something else we can do—if you feel like being a little daring tonight,” he challenged her. He wanted to get both their minds off what had just transpired between them.
“All right—what did you have in mind?” She looked around the shambles of the damp and dirty room.
“Playing poker.” He showed her the deck of cards he’d retrieved from his saddlebag.
“Poker?” Rachel was shocked. Her father believed gambling was bad.
“Poker is basically an easy game. It won’t take you long to learn how to play.”
“But my father—”
Clint understood her concern, and he had an answer ready for her.
“I’m not going to tell him—are you?”
“No,” she answered with a grin.
“So your father will never know,” he finished. “Sit down while I fix a place we can play.”
Clint shoved the half-rotted bed slats together on the broken-down bed frame to create a makeshift table. Then he pushed their chairs in close and sat down.
“Are you ready?” he asked, glancing up at her as he began to shuffle the deck.
“I guess.” Rachel still felt a bit wild as she went to sit down with him.
“If you’re worried about your father’s belief that gambling is wrong, we won’t make any bets. That way our cardplaying won’t really be gambling.”
Rachel smiled at him, relieved that he’d found a way to ease the guilt she’d been feeling. “All right—how do we play?”
“Like this.”
She watched as he expertly dealt them each five cards.
“Check your hand. Pairs are good, three of a kind are better. There are straights and flushes, too.”
Clint explained the various combinations, and quickly discovered that Rachel was a very fast learner. After the first couple of practice hands, he knew she was ready.
“All right, this time we’re serious,” he said as he dealt the cards.
Rachel picked up her cards and immediately started to smile. She had a pair of kings.
“Serious gamblers don’t let on if they’ve got a good hand,” Clint advised as she looked up at him in obvious delight.
“Oh, sorry.” She faked a frown.
He turned his attention to his own cards and found little to smile about. “I’m taking three. What about you?”
“Just two,” she responded confidently.
He dealt her two cards, then picked u
p his three to see how his luck was holding up. He discovered that it wasn’t. He threw his hand down in disgust.
“I’m out.”
“That means I won, right?”
“Right. What have you got?”
“Two pair—kings and tens,” Rachel stated proudly as she spread the cards out for him to see.
“All right, let’s try it again.”
Clint shuffled the deck and dealt another hand. The results proved much the same.
“This is fun!” Rachel proclaimed, winning for a second time.
“For you it is—you’re winning,” he remarked, slapping his losing hand down on the table. He was glad this wasn’t a serious game. He didn’t like being a loser.
“I’m only winning because I have such a good teacher,” she complimented him.
“I’m sure that’s it,” Clint agreed sarcastically.
“It’s too bad we’re not betting.”
“You’d be cleaning up, that’s for sure.”
“I know. Come on, deal again!” She realized he’d been right. Playing poker was fun—and distracting. Concentrating on the card game kept her from thinking too much about what had happened earlier between them and how hard it was still storming outside.
They continued to play, and Clint continued to lose. Every now and then he managed to win a hand, but it wasn’t often.
Clint finally drew into a flush, and he was just about ready to show Rachel his winning hand when suddenly the lamp burned out and they were left in complete darkness.
“What happened?” she asked, looking around nervously.
“The lamp must have run out of oil,” he answered, getting up to check.
Clint moved carefully across the room to the mantel and lit one of his matches so he could inspect the lamp.
“We’ve been left in the dark, and just when I had a winning hand, too,” he told her.
“What are we going to do?”
“There’s not a lot we can do except call it a night. You can use my bedroll. There’s a place over here where you’ll be dry.” He blew out the match as it burned down low.
Rachel was tired, but she was unsure of the proper thing to do. There was no doubt it was inappropriate for them to spend the night together unchaperoned this way, but under these dire circumstances, they had no choice.