Forbidden Fires (24 page)

“Are you tired?”

She nodded, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“How tired?”

“Very,” she teased.

His lips moved in her hair as his hand stroked her back, the curve of her hip. His other hand dropped lower and pressed her hips against his, letting her feel the
power of his need.

“Too
tired?” His breath was hot against her ear, his tongue moist as he nibbled at her earlobe.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked innocently.

“What do you think?” he growled, grinding his hips against hers.

“Oh, that.” She was laughing now, her eyes bright as she tilted her head back to better see his face.

“Yes, that,” Rafe replied, and before she could blink, his mouth closed over hers. His kiss was ardent, insistent, and completely wonderful, and Caitlyn leaned against him, her arms reaching up to twine about his neck, her body molding itself to his. She felt the heat of his desire through the folds of her skirt and it quickened her own, leaving her breathless and pliant and, oh, so willing.

Rafe loosened the ties at her shoulders and the dress slid to the ground. He removed his clout, then dropped to his knees and removed her moccasins, his hand caressing her foot.

He lifted one hand and she placed hers in it, and he drew her down beside him. Caitlyn’s hands slid over his biceps, across his shoulders, down his chest, reacquainting herself with the strength and power of the man who was her husband. She gloried in the taut muscles that rippled beneath her fingertips, in the sharp intake of his breath as her hand stroked the inside of his thigh, teasingly, tantalizing, until he groaned with pleasure and pain. Bending over him, she kissed his face, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest, like velvet stroking steel.

Rafe let her touch and tease and explore until he was ready to explode, and then he rolled her onto her back and returned touch for touch and kiss for kiss until they were both breathless, caught up in a dizzying inferno.

And then, at last, they surged together, reaching for that blissful paradise where, for one brief, magical moment two people became one.

Later, Caitlyn wept softly as she studied the horrible bruises and welts that marred his back and shoulders. A long red welt ran across his buttocks, the backs of his legs were bruised and swollen and she wondered how he had managed to ride bareback all day without complaint.

“I’m all right, Caty,” Rafe assured her. “Don’t cry.”

“What happened, Rafe? Why did they beat you?”

“Summer Wind got mad because I wouldn’t divorce you and marry her. She told Shinte Galeska that I had been banished from the Lakota for killing a man, and that I had kidnapped the two of you from Fort Laramie. The Cheyenne did the only thing they could do.”

Rafe grinned. “I guess Summer Wind’s conscience started to bother her and she came looking for me. I asked her to bring you to me.”

Caitlyn snuggled against him, thankful that Summer Wind had found her, thankful to be back in her husband’s arms.

With a sigh, she gazed up at the moon, shining full and bright overhead. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. You see the dark spots on the moon? The Cherokee have a legend about the sun and the moon that explains those spots.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“Well, it seems that when the Sun was a young woman, she had a brother, the Moon, who lived in the West. The Sun had a lover who used to come every month in the dark of the moon to court her. He would come only at night and leave before daylight, and although she talked to him, she could never see his face in the dark and he would not tell her his name. The Sun was always wondering who her mysterious lover was.

“Finally, she came up with an idea to discover her lover’s identity. The next time he came, as they were sitting together in the dark, she dipped her hand into the cinders and ashes of the fireplace and rubbed her fingers over his face, saying, ‘Your face is cold; you must have suffered from the wind.’ After a while, he left and went away again. The next night when the Moon came up, his face was covered with spots, and then his sister knew he was the one who had been coming to see her.

“He was so ashamed that she knew that he kept as far away as he could at the other end of the sky. Ever since he has tried to keep a long way behind the Sun and when he does sometimes have to appear near her in the West, he makes himself as thin as a ribbon so he can hardly be seen.”

“That’s marvelous,” Caitlyn remarked. “Do you know any more stories like that?”

“Yeah. The Indians love to tell stories. At night, during the winter, they spend hours relating stories and legends.”

“Tell me another.”

“I’d rather start a legend of my own,” Rafe murmured as he traced the outline of her jaw with his fingers, “about Stalking Wolf, a mighty warrior, who made love to his woman all night long.”

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of a legend in the making,” Caitlyn replied with a seductive smile as Rafe covered her body with his own.

Caitlyn breathed a sigh of relief as familiar landmarks came into view. At last, after three weeks on the trail they were home!

The journey from the Cheyenne village had been long but virtually trouble-free. They had spent some nights going to bed hungry, but for the most part Rafe had managed to find enough food and water to sustain them. Twice, they had seen Indians, but always from a distance. Each sighting filled Caitlyn with dread, so certain was she that Tonkalla would find her and take her back to the village. She had seen the Indians through different eyes during the few days they had spent in the Cheyenne camp. She knew now that they were not complete savages, that they were capable of love and laughter, of joy and pain, but she had no desire to live among them again.

The cattle drive that was to put the ranch in the black had been a disaster, she mused ruefully. Four men had been killed, eight hundred head of cattle had been run off by Indians. Instead of making a profit of almost nine thousand dollars, they had come up empty. How would they rebuild the herd now, she wondered bleakly. Where would they get the money to pay off the bank loan, to pay the hands’ wages, to buy seed, and other necessities?

And yet, despite everything, Caitlyn felt her heart lift when the ranch house came into view.

“Home at last,” she murmured. She glanced at Rafe, riding beside her. “Sometimes I didn’t think we’d make it.

Rafe nodded. The ranch
was
a sight for sore eyes, he thought, especially after all they’d been through.

Paulie and Rusty came out to meet them, the welcome in their eyes turning to confusion when they saw Rafe and Caitlyn dressed in buckskins. Paulie glanced down the road, frowning, when he saw that Rafe and Caitlyn were alone.

“Where’s Scott?” Paulie asked. “And Web and the others?” Paulie glanced at the brief wolfskin clout Rafe was wearing. “What are you doing in that get-up?”

“It’s a long story,” Rafe answered. Dismounting, he helped Caitlyn to the ground and handed Paulie the horses’ reins. “You go on up to the house, Caty,” he said, “I’ll fill Paulie and Rusty in on what happened.”

Caitlyn nodded. There were many things that needed to be discussed, but right now all she could think of was a hot bath and a glass of cold milk.

Rafe waited until Caitlyn was out of sight before he asked Paulie the questions that had been preying on his mind since they left the Cheyenne.

“Anything strange happen here while we were gone?”

Paulie shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Did you go into town for anything?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Did you see Wylie?”

“No, but then, I wasn’t looking for him.”

“What’s this all about?” Rusty asked.

Succinctly, Rafe told the two men about the cattle drive, about the Indian attack on the herd, about Web’s statement that he had seen Wylie with the Indians.

“And you think Wylie was behind the attack,” Rusty remarked. “But why? What would he have to gain by helping a bunch of Indians steal our cattle?”

Rafe shrugged. “I don’t know. Revenge, maybe.”

“Against who?” Paulie asked.

“I’d say I was the most likely candidate,” Rafe suggested wryly. “I embarrassed him at the Fourth of July dance, and as far as he’s concerned, I took his job away from him.”

“And his girl,” Rusty added. “He was always certain Miss Caitlyn would marry him.”

“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, sell 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.