Forbidden Fires (5 page)

Caitlyn was pondering her father’s words several days later when Rafe entered the kitchen where she was crimping the edge of a pie crust.

Caitlyn nodded in his direction. “Mr. Gallegher.”

“Miss Carmichael.”

“Was there something you wanted?”

“Coffee, if you’ve got it.”

Caitlyn smiled as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Ranch kitchens always have a pot of coffee warming on the back burner,” she told him as she took a cup from the shelf.

Rafe nodded as he swung a leg over a chair, his eyes watching her every move. He smiled his thanks as she handed him a cup filled with hot black coffee.

There was an awkward silence as Rafe took a sip. Caitlyn turned back to the counter, aware that her hands were trembling. Rafe’s presence seemed to fill the kitchen.

“We’re having apple pie for dessert,” she said, breaking the silence between them. “I hope you like it.”

“I do,” Rafe replied, “though I haven’t had any in quite awhile.”

Caitlyn laughed softly. “I guess the Indians don’t make pie, do they?”

“No.”

“Did you like living with the Indians, Mr. Gallegher?”

“Why don’t you call me Rafe?”

“All right. Rafe.” She liked the way his name sounded when she said it. Picking up a knife, she began to peel a large green apple. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I liked it.”

His reply was curt, almost rude, and Caitlyn slid a glance in his direction, wondering if she were bringing up a subject he didn’t wish to discuss. Her intuition told her to change the subject. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her.

“How long did you live with them?”

“Six years.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened at that bit of information. Somehow, she hadn’t expected that it had been such a long time. “Why did you leave?”

Rafe shrugged, and his eyes grew dark. “Things happen,” he answered succinctly.

“And you’d rather not talk about it?”

“Right.”

He drained the last of the coffee from the cup, his eyes cool and assessing as he watched her deftly peel one apple after another.

Caitlyn worked quickly, conscious of his steady gaze. She felt her cheeks bloom with color and in her haste to finish her task, she grew careless. She yelped as the knife sliced through the apple and into her finger. A huge drop of blood splattered on the counter top.

Rafe was on his feet instantly. Taking the knife from her hand, he reached for the towel draped over the back of a chair and wrapped one corner of the cloth around her finger.

“I’m all right,” Caitlyn said, feeling foolish because she had been so clumsy. “It’s nothing.”

“Let me look.”

He was standing so close she could see the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes, smell his musky male scent. Her heart began to pound wildly as he removed the towel and studied the injury.

“Have you got something to use for a bandage?”

“Yes, I’ll get it.”

“Better get some disinfectant, too.”

Caitlyn nodded and Rafe stepped away from her. She continued to stare up at him, flustered by his nearness. His eyes, intent upon her face, trapped her gaze. The heat from his eyes warmed her to her toes, and she found herself staring at his mouth, wondering, always wondering, what it would be like if he kissed her.

Rafe felt his pulse quicken at Caitlyn’s nearness. Her eyes were as green as spring grass, wide and innocent—and scared. Definitely scared of him, of the attraction she felt toward him and tried so hard to hide. He wondered if she had admitted to herself how she felt, or if she denied her feelings for him because he was an Indian, a man to be hated, not desired.

There was a faint smudge of flour on her cheek and he was sorely tempted to slide his tongue across the faint white smear, to press his mouth to hers and watch her eyes grow cloudy with passion.

Muttering an oath, he drew his gaze from hers. “You’d best get that bandage before you bleed all over the floor,” he suggested, his voice strangely thick and uneven.

“What? Oh, yes,” Caitlyn agreed absently, the shallow cut in her finger all but forgotten. With an effort, she pulled her gaze from his face and left the room.

Rafe was gone when she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later.

Chapter Five

Abner was visibly excited when he entered the main house for dinner the following night. Tossing his hat on the rack in the corner, he straddled his chair, his face flushed and his pale blue eyes bright.

“I saw the herd,” he told Brenden, his words coming in a rush. “They’re grazing in Big Sully Meadow.”

Brenden grinned. “The men and I will leave at first light,” he told Luther.

“I’m going this time,” Caitlyn said, her green eyes glowing with excitement.

“No,” Brenden said firmly. “It’s too dangerous. You stay here with Luther and Paulie.”

Brenden turned an appraising eye on Rafe Gallegher. “You feel up to chasing a herd of mustangs?”

Rafe nodded. He’d been sitting idle too long.

“Good,” Brenden remarked. “I’ve got a contract to furnish remounts to the Army. If this herd’s as big as Wylie says, it’ll just fill the bill.”

Caitlyn slammed her fork down beside her plate. “I said I’m going, Pa.”

Brenden sighed wearily. “We’ve had this argument before, Caitlyn. I said no then, and I’m saying no now.”

Caitlyn’s mouth thinned in an angry line. Her father rarely denied her anything, but on this one subject he was adamant.

Rafe’s gaze shifted from Brenden Carmichael to Caitlyn. Her color was high and her eyes fairly snapped with fury. The mood suited her, he mused, for she had never looked more vibrant, or more desirable. A glance in Wylie’s direction told him the head wrangler was thinking the same thing.

A muscle worked in Rafe’s jaw as an unwanted surge of jealousy tightened his gut. So, Wylie was sweet on the boss man’s daughter. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Grim-faced, he turned his attention to the juicy steak on his plate. Whatever went on between Abner Wylie and Caitlyn Carmichael was their business, not his.

Caitlyn finished the meal in silence, and her sullen mood stifled the normal flow of conversation at the dinner table. Wylie and the other cowhands excused themselves as soon as they finished eating, except for Luther, who sat back in his chair and rolled a smoke. He had known Caitlyn for most of her life and he knew her anger never lasted long. She’d had a lot to be angry about on the long trip west—Indian attacks, bad weather, ornery mules, water shortages. But her anger had rarely lasted more than a few minutes, and then she was right there, pitching in to do what she could, encouraging others to cheer up, assuring them that the future would be better. He’d never seen her discouraged for long, except when her brothers had been killed. That had taken its toll, sure enough.

Luther looked across the table at the half-breed, his eyes thoughtful. “You ever done any bronc bustin?”

“A time or two.”

Luther nodded. “We lost our best wrangler last season. Wylie’s pretty good, but he’s kinda rough. Heavy hands, if you know what I mean.”

Rafe nodded.

“We could use a good bronc rider,” Luther said, directing his remark to Brenden.

Brenden shrugged. “You want the job, Gallegher?”

“Sure, it beats chasing cattle.”

Luther chuckled. Any man worth his salt would rather work horses than cattle. “It’s settled then. When we get that herd rounded up, you’ll have enough work to keep you busy ‘til fall.”

“Suits me,” Rafe replied, glancing at Caitlyn. She was sitting straight in her chair, her eyes focused on the cup in her hand. The angry color had faded from her cheeks, but her eyes were still turbulent.

A few minutes later Brenden excused himself from the table. Rafe left the room a short time later, leaving Luther and Caitlyn alone.

“He doesn’t say much,” Luther remarked. “The half-breed, I mean.”

Caitlyn shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t have anything to say.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“I’ve never known you to hire on a man without asking him for references, or watching him work.”

“I know, but I’ve got a gut feeling about Gallegher. I’ve seen the way he handles that black mare. He knows horses inside and out, or I miss my guess.”

Caitlyn nodded, and then she let out an irritated sigh. “Luther, why won’t my father let me go after the mustangs? I can ride as well as any of the men.”

“Sure you can,” Luther agreed. “Didn’t I teach you myself? But the trail’s no place for a girl. Now, now,” he said, holding up his hands to quiet her objections. “It isn’t that you can’t ride or hold up your end. It’s just that the men don’t want to have to watch their manners or their language while they’re trailing a bunch of broomtails, and they’d have to mind both if you went along. Not only that, but it’s hard, dirty work, and dangerous to boot. You’ll be better off at home here with me and Paulie, and your pa won’t have to worry about you.”

Caitlyn’s shoulders slumped in defeat. If Luther was against her going, too, she didn’t have a chance.

“They’ll be leaving early,” Luther said as he stood up and reached for his hat. “Tell Consuelo for me, will you?”

Caitlyn nodded. “Good night, Luther.”

* * * * *

Caitlyn stood on the front porch, watching as the men rode out of the yard. It wasn’t fair, she thought irritably. They got to go off and have a good time while she had to stay at home and keep house. She remembered listening to Luther talk about the excitement of seeing a wild herd on the move, the thrill of chasing them across the prairie. It was an unforgettable sight, he had said. The mares and foals lined out in a dead run, manes and tails flying like flags in the wind, the stallion running alongside, nipping at the flanks of the mares who lagged behind.

Caitlyn glanced toward the barn. The big herds were disappearing as more and more settlers pushed their way westward. Wild horses were being driven from their grazing lands as farmers moved in, fencing the land. Many of the younger animals were being caught and domesticated; the old ones were being culled from the herd and destroyed. The Indians accounted for a fair number, as well, using them for transportation in good times and for food when game was scarce and times were hard.

Caitlyn frowned. For all she knew, this might be the last wild herd in the territory. If she didn’t see it now, she might never get another chance.

With a toss of her head, Caitlyn went into the house and changed into a pair of faded denim pants and a long-sleeved wool shirt. She threw an extra shirt, a jacket, a comb and a brush into her saddlebag, then ran down to the barn to saddle her horse.

Paulie frowned as she tied her saddlebags in place behind her saddle. “Where’re you goin’, Miss Carmichael?”

“With Pa.”

“Miss Carmichael, wait!” Paulie called as she rode out of the yard at a gallop. “Dammit, girl, your pa will have my hide for this!”

Rafe rode a fair distance behind Brenden Carmichael and the other cowhands. It was all too evident that his presence was not welcome. Despite Carmichael’s insistence that he tag along, and Luther’s guarantee that Rafe’s presence was only temporary at Circle C, the other men refused to accept him. He didn’t really mind. He enjoyed riding alone, out of the dust stirred by those ahead.

His thoughts strayed toward Summer Wind as he rode. He had first noticed her the night her father had announced that his daughter had become a woman. During the four-day celebration that followed, Rafe had watched her with new interest, noticing for the first time the way her eyes followed him, the way she smiled, shy yet inviting, the lilting sound of her laughter.

He had trailed after her when she went to the river for water, waiting for an opportune moment to catch her alone. At first they had only smiled at each other from a distance. Later, they talked of mutual friends, of village gossip, of dances, and games. And still later they had talked about themselves, gradually exchanging more personal information and ideas as they became better acquainted.

They had courted for over four years. He had become a proven warrior by then, able to support a wife, and she had grown more beautiful, more desirable.

Rafe’s eyes grew hard as he remembered the fateful day when he had gone to Summer Wind’s lodge to ask for her hand in marriage. But Summer Wind was not there. She had gone to look for wood, her mother said with a knowing smile. He had been whistling softly when he started down the path Summer Wind usually followed. His heart had been light, his pulse racing with anticipation. He had waited over four years for this day.

He had walked deep into the heart of the forest before he found her, and when he finally saw her standing beneath a sun-dappled oak, she had not been alone. Hump Back Bear had been with her, his brawny arm curled around her slender waist. They had been laughing softly, but the laughter died in Summer Wind’s throat when she saw Rafe standing there.

Hump Back Bear had whirled around, his face growing dark with fury. There had been angry words between the men. Summer Wind had tried to explain, had begged Rafe to understand, to forgive her. Her tears had infuriated Hump Back Bear and he had pulled his knife, vowing he would kill Rafe rather than live without Summer Wind.

Rafe had backed away, unwilling to fight over a woman who had deceived him. But Hump Back Bear, who was beyond reason, would not be denied. With a furious growl, he had charged Rafe, his knife slashing wildly. Rafe had drawn his own weapon, but he had fought defensively, making no effort to attack the other man, until Hump Back Bear drew blood. Pain and the desire to live drove all else from Rafe’s mind. He fought for his life then, using all the tricks his father had taught him in the back streets of New Orleans. It had saved his life, but it had cost him his place in the tribe.

He shook the memories from his mind, surprised to find he had fallen far behind the others. He was about to urge his horse into a trot when he heard the muffled sound of hoofbeats coming from behind. Reining his horse to a halt, he turned in the saddle, frowning when he saw Caitlyn round a bend in the trail.

Caitlyn gave a sharp tug on the reins when she saw Rafe. Then, realizing she had been seen, she lifted her chin defiantly and gigged her horse forward.

“Aren’t you supposed to be waiting at home?” Rafe inquired with a wry grin.

Caitlyn shrugged. He knew the answer to that as well as she did.

“You don’t mind very well, do you?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“None,” Rafe admitted easily. “None at all. He rubbed a hand over his jaw as he glanced down the trail, and then returned his gaze to Caitlyn. “I don’t think your pa will be too happy to see you.”

“Probably not, but I intend to stay out of his way until tomorrow afternoon. By then it’ll be too late to send me back.”

“How are you gonna keep your presence here a secret until then?” Rafe asked curiously.

“I was hoping you’d mind your own business and keep your mouth shut,” Caitlyn retorted, “although I guess that’s asking too much.”

“I won’t say a word if that’s the way you want it.”

“Well, good,” Caitlyn said, unable to believe her good fortune.

“Just one thing. What are you gonna do about dinner? And where were you planning to spend the night?”

“I’ve missed meals before,” Caitlyn replied, regretting that she had forgotten to pack a lunch. “And I’ll just bed down under a tree.”

Rafe nodded. She had spunk. He had to give her credit for that, even if she didn’t have much sense. Apparently little things like wild animals, cold nights, and the fact that she was unarmed hadn’t occurred to her.

“Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rafe remarked. “I hope chasing a bunch of mustangs turns out to be everything you hoped for.”

Me, too,
Caitlyn thought to herself as she watched Rafe put his horse into a lope,
because my father is going to be madder than a wet hen when he finds out I’m here.

Brenden stayed on the trail until dusk, and then he and the cowhands made camp in a sheltered draw out of the rising wind. They would reach Big Sully Meadow just before dawn tomorrow when the herd came to drink. Wylie couldn’t have found the herd at a better time, Brenden mused as he poured himself a cup of coffee. If they were lucky, the herd would bring enough to pay off that bank loan with some left over for needed repairs on the ranch. Yessir, maybe his luck had finally changed.

Rafe kept to himself, spreading his bedroll away from the other men. After a quick meal of bacon, red beans, and sourdough biscuits, he rolled into his blankets, his arms crossed behind his head, and gazed up at the sky, his thoughts on other nights when he had slept beside a cozy fire under a blanket of stars. He could hear Carmichael’s men talking around the campfire, reminiscing about other roundups and other herds, laughing as they recounted the exploits of top hands they had known in the past.

The Indians had liked to reminisce, too. They had discussed old battles and old friends. Sometimes they had told stories of how the earth was created. As a young boy, he had been fascinated by the Indians belief that bears had once been men, but because they were too lazy to endure the rigors of human life, they had chosen to be transformed into animals. The scariest tale his father had told him had been of
Uktena,
who was the incarnation of evil and had the attributes of the snake, the deer, and the bird.
Uktena
was a great snake, his father had told him, as big around as a tree trunk, with horns on its head, and a bright blazing crest on its forehead. It had scales that glittered like sparks of fire. It was believed that just seeing
Uktena
could bring misfortune; smelling its breath meant certain death.