But when she helped him to bed, deciding that he smelled more like a hardworking man than polecat, Rafe wouldn’t let her go.
“Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
His words were mumbled, and she stroked his bristled cheek, then smoothed his brow. What was he doing to her? She was angry one moment, exasperated the next, and in mere seconds he made her feel tender and protective toward him. When she lifted her hand, he held it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her palm. Lacey felt heat race down to her toes. His eyes closed, and she was helpless to move. With a boyish grin he tucked her hand beneath his cheek. In moments he was asleep, but it was a long while before Lacey slipped away.
For two days there was peace out on the range, war at the main house. Lacey couldn’t shake Rafe of his pursuit that someone on the Reina was working with the rustlers.
She held her temper in check, tried to trust him, and grew desperate for him to understand he was wrong. When he began on Bo James, Lacey drew the line.
“No more of this pointless questioning. Bo watched me grow up. He was my teacher and friend just like Maggie and Fletcher and Blewett. Luke and Ragweed are the only new hands we have, and you said you were satisfied about them.”
He towered over where she sat behind the desk. “And you keep harping it’s Darcy.”
“I’ve tried to explain to you that we face the same problems every rancher in Texas does. We count Darcy out. Fine. From there we have a carpetbag government whose actions to date have brought an escalation of Indian raids. Before Sy died, he got together with other ranchers, and they demanded that the army do something about them and the men that have drifted west still fighting a war that’s been over for two years.” She covered her face with both hands, rubbing the tension from her forehead.
Rafe came around the chair to stand behind her. His hand had barely settled on her shoulders when Lacey’s head snapped up.
“Don’t touch me. You sit down and listen.”
“I get tired of fighting with you, princess.” His hand slid around her neck, cupping her jaw and forcing her head back. “We can’t seem to agree on much but this.” His lips drank her unuttered protest for long moments.
Lacey’s eyes closed the second his head lowered. The look in his eyes had been hot enough to light fires. Deep inside her, heat unfurled, and she wanted to be kissed and touched by him. But every time he ended their arguments like this, he left her frustrated … and afraid. She wished she could trust him completely, yet she was held back by the thought of his using the desire he stirred inside her to control her.
But the deepening thrust of his kiss, the heady scent of his warmth, even the callused tips of his fingers stroking her neck combined to heighten desire and cast aside fear.
Maggie screaming both their names put an end to her turmoil. Rafe broke their kiss and was at the door before Lacey managed to recover.
Luke, chest heaving, was trying to talk when Lacey joined them in the courtyard.
“…fifteen head … by the creek.”
“Take it easy, Luke,” Rafe cautioned, meeting Lacey’s eyes, forestalling her questions. “You heard. Only they didn’t take them this time. They slit their throats and left them. You can’t believe Darcy did that.”
“This time I’m riding with you. Don’t say a word, Rafe. I don’t know or care who is behind it. But I swear I won’t rest until I hang them.”
“You’re not riding with me!” he yelled at her back, for she was already running to her room.
Minutes later when Lacey came out of the house at a run, carrying her rifle, Rafe was waiting.
Lacey stopped short, glancing from him to Fletcher at his side. The significance of the big grulla, saddled and waiting, snapped her control.
“I wanted the roan, Fletcher, in case you weren’t sure.”
“You’re not coming.” Rafe stood, legs apart, slapping the reins of his horse against his palm. “Fletcher isn’t hitching a mule for you.”
“Fletcher doesn’t take orders from you! Now, get out of my way.”
“Your worst enemy is yourself, princess. Someone has got to have sense enough to curb—”
“Saddle my horse, Fletcher. Now.”
Fletcher glanced from Rafe, looking like a thundercloud about to explode, back to Lacey, slowing raising her rifle, fury glinting in her eyes.
“I don’t need curbing, Rafe. I know my enemies. Move out of my way, or you’ll top the list.” Late afternoon sunlight played shadows over his features. Lacey ignored the muscle twitching in his cheek, refusing to back down. She tightened her grip on the rifle. “Stop thinking like a man. I know this range. We can split up and cover more—”
“No. It’s dangerous. They could still be out there.”
Fletcher had heard enough. “Lacey can find a bee outta its hive, son. Best let her ride.”
And ride they did until Lacey knew their search would again be hampered by the dark. She resisted every suggestion that Rafe offered to stop, driven by her fury over the senseless killing of cattle.
Rafe wouldn’t admit it, but his thought paralleled hers. He knew Lacey was hoping to find something that would point guilt at Darcy, but Rafe couldn’t buy that. His gut instinct said that someone on the Reina was betraying them, someone Lacey trusted. He had let her ride where she would to search, just as he let her order the men to bunch up the cattle and then ride out in teams to hunt for the killers.
They topped a small caprock rise, and Rafe pulled up, cursing the thick clouds that trickled moonlight to guide them. For once Lacey drew rein alongside without protest. The slump of her shoulders, the droop of her head, told of her own exhaustion.
“Go back, princess. We’re not going to find anything more tonight.”
She set her hat brim forward and without looking at him shook her head. “If you want to go back, I’m not going to stop you, Rafe.” She lifted her canteen, drank deeply, and straightened her back. “I’m riding on.”
It took him a few minutes to realize that Lacey veered north. The land leveled out as he followed, and Lacey took advantage of it. His grulla needed no urging to canter alongside the roan.
“Where the hell are you going!” he yelled, grabbing for the roan’s bridle. He controlled his horse with his knees and viciously yanked to pull the roan’s head down and around. “Looking to get yourself killed by riding to Darcy’s now?” The horses danced uneasily in place, and Rafe ignored her demands to let go. “Lacey, you don’t have a lick of sense.”
“That’s how much you know,” she snapped, grabbing for his handhold on the leather. “There are small canyons between the open range separating our lands. If anyone wanted to hide—”
“And you intended to ride there? I’m good with my gun, lady, maybe you are, too. But that’s a fool’s notion to try and corner—”
“Can’t you trust me! Just for once let me prove that I know what I’m doing. Damn you! Let go!”
Rafe let go of the bridle, but he crowded the grulla next to the roan. “I told you once that you don’t have to prove anything more to me. You want to go off and get yourself killed, do it. I won’t stop you. Just remember, princess, that if anything happens to you, I’ll own the Reina that much sooner.”
Wispy clouds broke away from the moon, and its light revealed Rafe’s granite-cut features that matched the mountains. Lacey stared into his cold black eyes. She hated him at this moment and thought of how easy it would be to shoot him.
As if Rafe read her thoughts, his gaze dropped to where her hand hovered over the holstered gun and rose slowly back to her eyes. “You’d never clear leather, Lacey.”
“You’ve made me become a stranger to myself, Rafe. But you’ll never—hear me—never control me.”
He let her ride away, cursing her, damning her, and wanting her in the same moment. There
was no way he could let her go without his protection, and he urged the grulla to follow at a walk. Damn the binding terms of Sy’s will! He should have taken her when he had the chance. She’d be his, home where it was safe, not riding into who knew what danger. Lacey certainly wouldn’t have the breath left to fight him.
Clouds banked the moon once again, and he lost sight of her. He sent the grulla into a lope, and when he caught up with her … Hairs prickled on the back of his neck. It was the grace of a second’s warning.
Shots rang out ahead of him. He flattened out, his thoughts centered on Lacey. Two more shots split the night, a horse screamed, and then … silence.
Rafe hesitated to draw his gun or rifle until he knew where Lacey was positioned. Had she returned fire? It was the thought of her being pinned down, alone, that spurred him to ride, regardless of the danger to himself.
He veered around a small outcrop of rocks, crossed a shallow runoff, and came up out of the hollow at a run. The sudden bunching of muscled power beneath warned Rafe as the grulla jumped. Another shot echoed, and Rafe sawed on the reins, tearing the soft mouth of his horse, to hit the ground hard and running. In that brief moment he had seen the sprawled figures of Lacey and her horse.
His breath froze like winter’s chill in his lungs as he crawled to her side. Her name was a croaking sound. He gathered her limp body up against him and listened to the night that was suddenly silent. His lips found the gash on her temple, and his breath left his body in an explosive rush. The grulla shied and snorted at the scent of blood. Rafe barely glanced at the dead roan.
Lacey’s moan forced him into action regardless of the targets they both presented. He spoke softly to the grulla, lunging with one hand to grab the trailing reins. Lacey was dead weight as he lifted her into the saddle and swung himself up behind her. She cried out as he pushed his body over hers, keeping her bent over, his back exposed. At a walk, the grulla picked his way back down into the hollow. Once across the stream Rafe switched the reins to his left hand, slid his right around her waist, and felt the seep of blood.
Guilt swamped him. His own words haunted him as he rode back toward the Reina. And for the first time since his mother died, Rafe prayed.
Coffee laced with whiskey sustained his wait until Maggie, her face drawn, joined him in the kitchen.
“I’ve done all I can, Rafe. Fletcher and Bo are gonna sit with her. No more than a bullet graze on her side, but that gash … well, I’d best send someone for Doc.” Her eyes were as bleak as his. “Get some sleep, son. You’re out on your feet.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, finished his drink, and stood. “You do whatever you have to do, Maggie. Just make sure she’s all right. Whatever you do, don’t let her out of your sight. Put a guard on her if you have to.”
“Where are you goin’?” she asked as he moved toward the door. “Blew or Scanlon can handle—”
“I know they can. That’s why I’m leaving.”
“Leavin’? Boy, what the—”
“Maggie! Lacey was shot from behind. I know how every head means the survival of the ranch, but someone tried to kill her. Or maybe the shots were meant for me. I need to know more than I can find out riding out day after day here.”
Maggie had heard a similar tone of voice from his father too many times to continue arguing. “Be careful, son. The Reina needs you, but Lacey needs you more.”
“I wish that was true, Maggie. More than you know.”
Chapter 11
“Is he back yet?” Lacey winced as she raised herself up to a sitting position in bed.
Maggie shook her head, answering the same question that Lacey greeted her with for the past three mornings.
“Are you sure that no one knows where he—”
“Yes. Stop circlin’ ’round like a cat chasin’ tail. By your testy tone I’d guess you’re feeling spry, but you didn’t finish your food.”
Lacey glanced at the tray beside her bed. “I can’t eat, Maggie. I still feel sick, and besides, I’m worried about Rafe.”
“Well, that’s a change from all the snappin’ an’ bitin’ you’ve been doin’. Does me good to hear you say it. Rafe was sure enough worried ‘bout you.”
“Sure. And he rode off to who knows where before he—”
“Hush! His face was white when he carried you to me. He was scared, Lacey. Scared. I ain’t one to cry over burnt biscuits, but you should’ve listened to him an’ not gone chasin’ shadows. You’ve been carryin’ a heavy load, honey,” she said in a softened tone. “It’s time you give over an’ be what the good Lord made you … a woman. Stop tryin’ to prove you’re better than him at every turn.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that, Maggie.”
“Well, that’s a yarn of a different color.” She spread open the curtains, faced Lacey, and beamed smiling approval. “Guess that knock on your head did some good. ’Bout time you trusted him.”
Trust him? Lacey closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillows. She wanted to trust Rafe. There was a need inside her to do more than that. But the hard lessons she had learned from Sy Garrett held her back. He had always warned her never to give in to the soft instincts of a woman. It would make her weak … weak enough to lose the Reina. She glanced up as Maggie straightened the quilt.
“There’s so much at stake, Maggie. More than you know. But until Rafe comes back, if he does, I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“He’ll come back, never doubt it.”
Impatient with the delay, Rafe paced in Judge Walker’s office, waiting for him to return from court. Three days of hard riding, snatching sleep in the saddle, had brought him to Austin. Luck had ridden with him, for the day before, the judge had returned to the city.
This was the only man he could think of to shed light on the past. And then, there were a few things that he had uncovered, that he had shared with no one.
He glanced longingly at the soft leather chair, but knew that if he sat down, he wouldn’t get up. Indecision over having made the right choice plagued him. Coming here to the judge smacked of asking for help, and as he had called no man friend, he had never asked anyone for help.
But stronger than his pride was his fear for Lacey’s life.
Judge Walker entered, took one look at the thick black stubble on Rafe’s face, met the haggard look in his eyes, and didn’t waste time.
“You running or in trouble, Rafe?”
“I never ran, but there’s plenty of trouble.”
Several decanters and glasses stood on a sideboard in the paneled office, and the judge, without asking, filled two glasses. “You look like you could use this first.” He sipped his drink and settled himself in a leather wing chair in front of his massive oak desk. “Join me,” he said, gesturing to the chair’s empty mate.
Rafe tossed back his drink and sat down. Without mentioning his feelings for Lacey or the details of their personal confrontations, he told the judge all that had happened.
Silas Walker listened. He knew it had cost Rafe a measure of his pride to come to him. The weeks they had spent together, traveling from Mexico to the Reina, had revealed more about Rafe than he had realized. Silas understood pride. He had a healthy measure of it himself for his ability to judge men. Rafe’s past would lead many to condemn him. Silas knew better. Rafe was a survivor under circumstances that would have broken another man.
“I’m glad to hear that Lacey’s injuries were minor,” he said as Rafe finished and leaned his head back wearily.
“I didn’t say that. I left before Maggie was sure.”
“Maggie’s bandaged enough cuts and bruises to know. As for the rest, I can’t say I’m surprised in view of what I’ve learned. Get the bottle, Rafe. I’ve news of my own to share.”
Silas held out his glass to be filled. “I informed you that Sy was short o
f ready cash aside from that special bequest. I suspect that Lacey has made it plain your money is tied to the sale of cattle. We spoke of my checking into getting additional credit with the bank extended, and I did. But I’m afraid that my news isn’t good. Every note against the sale of those cattle as well as the outstanding mortgages on the Reina have been purchased.” Frowning, he added, “As much as I hate to admit this, I have failed in my attempts to find out who bought them.”
Rafe felt as if he had taken a blow to his gut. His plan had failed. Whoever held the notes would know that they needed every head sold at top price to buy them back. If there wasn’t enough money, they could lose the Reina.
“There’s more, Rafe.”
“What the hell else matters?”
“There’s talk that there’s trouble between you and Lacey. Two bosses can’t run a ranch efficiently. Men are reluctant as it is to lend money to a woman, especially one as young as Lacey.”
“How did you hear about trouble between us?” Rafe’s eyes were slitted as he stared at the judge, but he didn’t give him a chance to answer. “The first few days were rough. Lacey fired Farel that very night I arrived. We had a fight, just like I told you. But things have been good between Lacey and me these last few weeks.” He hunched forward in his chair. “We went into Sonora. Lacey saw Curt. She might have told him, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to spread word that we have any trouble?”
“I’d stake my own reputation that Curt isn’t behind the rumors. The man’s well respected, wants to marry Lacey, and wouldn’t have anything to gain. As for Farel, I don’t think he’s smart enough to know the right people to talk to.”
“What about Darcy?”
“He might have the right contacts, Rafe, but he’s hard-pressed for cash, too. There is no way he could have bought up the notes. Not alone. Of course,” he stressed, “we need to consider that rustling your cattle and selling them would ease his problem. But then, he wouldn’t get much for them now. Not even from the army. They’re buying whatever beef they can in an effort to keep the Indians on the reservations and to prevent tempers from exploding again.”
Western Winds Page 12