The Outlaws: Rafe (28 page)

Then she saw him, standing motionless on the opposite bank.
 
The Indian's squat, muscular body was scantily garbed in breachclout and war paint.
 
A bow hung from his brown fingers.
 
She held her breath as his dark, unwavering gaze found her.
 
She wanted to scream but couldn't find her voice.

Willing her legs to move, she slowly backed toward the bank.
 
The Indian watched her, his intense scrutiny as frightening as it was nerve-wracking.

"Don't make any sudden moves."

Incredible joy surged through Angela when she saw Rafe standing on the riverbank.
 
Never had she been so glad to see anyone in her life.
 
Then her heart sank when she realized he wasn't wearing his gunbelt.

"What shall I do?" Angela asked shakily.

"He may not be alone.
 
He could be with a war party camped nearby."

Angela glanced back at the Indian and quavered beneath his intense scrutiny.
 
"Maybe he's never seen a white woman before."

"Not a naked one, I'd wager," Rafe said drolly.

"This is no time for levity, Rafe Gentry."

"I'm not being funny, Angel.
 
I'm trying to think of the best way to get us out of here with our skin intact.
 
Hopefully darkness will work in our favor."

Angela began to shiver.
 
The shadows had deepened and the night air was raising goosebumps on her skin.
 
"H...how long do I have to stay in here?"

Rafe glanced at the Indian.
 
"Not much longer.
 
I think he's alone.
 
Or too far from his party to summon them.
 
He's probably as surprised to see us as we are to see him.
 
Start walking toward me," he instructed.

"I'm naked."

"That can't be helped.
 
Now, Angel!
 
Start moving."

Angela moved stiffly, concentrating on placing one foot before the other.
 
Indians had killed Reverend Conrad and his wife.
 
Were she and Rafe to be their next victims?
 
Swallowing her fear, she waded toward Rafe, silently blessing encroaching darkness.
 
Nevertheless, she had to force herself to keep walking.

The water fell away from her hips, her waist, her knees.
 
It was ankle deep now and she had nearly reached the place where Rafe waited.
 
Moments later she was out of the water, reaching for the towel Rafe held out to her.

"Go back to camp.
 
Now," Rafe ordered.
 
"I'll bring your clothing."
 
His gaze never left the silent Indian standing on the opposite shore.

Suddenly the Indian gave a bloodcurdling yell and splashed into the river.

"He's coming!" Angela warned on a note of panic.

"Go!" Rafe shouted.
 
"I'll handle this."

Angela turned and ran, ignoring the sharp sticks and briars bruising the tender soles of her feet.
 
She didn't want to leave Rafe alone with the Indian but he had given her no choice.

Once back at their campsite, she pulled clean clothing from her saddlebags and dressed quickly.
 
Then she crouched beside the campfire, imagining all manner of horrible things.
 
She didn't move until suspense got the best of her.
 
Driven by fear for Rafe, she searched for his guns and spied his holster lying beside his saddlebags.
 
Carefully she lifted out one gun.
 
Disregarding her bloodied feet, she retraced her steps back to the river.
 
She didn't know much about guns but she knew she could fire one to save Rafe's life.

She came to a skidding halt when she spied Rafe locked in mortal combat with the Indian.
 
Skidding to a halt, she raised the pistol and tried to get the Indian in her sights, but they were so closely entwined that she couldn't be sure she wouldn't shoot Rafe.
 
In the meager light of the quarter moon, Angela could tell little about the battle, except that it was a fierce one.
 
Her heart nearly stopped when an errant moonbeam reflected off the shiny surface of a knife.

Then the men were rolling on the ground, making identification even more difficult.
 
Angela lowered the pistol to her side, unable to shoot without shooting Rafe.
 
She had no idea she was sobbing until she felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
 
This was all her fault.
 
Had she not strayed so far from their campsite, or lingered overlong in the water, this would have never happened.

A strangled sound escaped her throat when she saw the blade slash downward.
 
Uncertain who held the knife, Angela feared the worst.
 
Both men suddenly went still, as if frozen in time; the panting and fierce sounds of battle had ceased.
 
Angela's breath hitched.
 
She saw a movement; one man rose up from the ground.
 
The breath she'd been holding came out in a loud whoosh.

"Rafe!
 
Thank God!"

Rafe crouched over the dead Indian, struggling to bring enough air into his lungs to speak.
 
He tried to frown at Angel, to show his displeasure at her for disobeying him, but he couldn't find the energy.
 
The Indian had been incredibly strong, and even more determined to have Angel.
 
He straightened finally and opened his arms to receive Angel as she rushed into them.

"Rafe!
 
Oh, Rafe, I thought...I feared...thank God you're all right."

He hugged her close.
 
"I told you to stay at the campsite," he said with a gruffness that belied his relief at finding her safe.
 
He spied his gun dangling from her fingers and stifled a groan.
 
"I hope you didn't for one second consider firing that."

She buried her face in his neck.
 
"I only wanted to help," came her muffled reply.

"Have you ever fired a gun in the dark?"

"Well, no, but, I know how to shoot."

He raised his eyes heavenward.
 
"Then I have a lot to be grateful for.
 
Come on, let's find your clothing and get the hell out of here.
 
His friends may come looking for him."

"Is he dead?
 
I was so frightened.
 
I couldn't see who held the knife."

"He's dead," Rafe intoned dryly.

 
He wasn't going to tell Angel just how close the outcome had been.
 
He could feel the blood from the Indian's knife dampening his shirt color.
 
The shallow cut that slashed downward from the corner of his right eye to his earlobe wasn't life-threatening but it was bleeding profusely.
 
He was grateful Angel hadn't seen it for he knew she would make too much of it.

Angela sat on a rock and pulled on her boots while Rafe gathered her clothing.
 
Then they started back to the campsite.
 
They had gone but a short distance when Rafe noticed that Angela was limping.

"Did you hurt yourself?"
 
She shook her head.
 
"Why are you limping?"

"I...it's nothing."

Suddenly it dawned on Rafe that Angel had walked to the campsite and back again in her bare feet.
 
Not an easy feat even with boots on.
 
Stones, roots, twigs and briars crunched beneath his booted feet; she could have hurt herself badly.
 
Without giving her a chance to protest, he swept her off her feet and into his arms.

"Wh...what are you doing?" Angela sputtered.

"How badly are you injured?
 
Your poor feet must have taken a terrible beating."

"I'm fine.
 
You're the one who battled an Indian to the death."
 
She touched his face.
 
Her fingers came away wet.
 
She stared at her hand for the space of a heartbeat, then let out a cry of dismay.
 
"You're hurt!"

"It's nothing.
 
There's salve in my saddlebags.
 
I'll rub some on the soles of your feet before we leave.
 
It's too dangerous to remain here now.
 
The Indian's friends will have missed him by now and come looking for him.
 
When they find him dead, they'll come for us."

"What about your face?"

"It's fine.
 
The bleeding has almost stopped."

They reached the campsite; Rafe sat Angela on tree stump. "Stay put while I get the salve."

He returned moments later, pulled off her boots and carefully spread the soothing mixture on the soles of her feet.
 
When he finished, he said, "I'll put out the fire and pack up our things."

"I can help."

He sounded almost angry as he proceeded to stomp out the remaining embers of the fire.
 
"I'll do it.
 
When are you going to learn to obey orders?

 
"When you learn to stop giving them," Angel shot back.

In deliberate defiance of his orders, she hobbled over to her saddlebags and began stuffing her soiled clothing in one of the pockets.
 
Rafe merely grit his teeth and said nothing as he quickly saddled the horses.

 
He should have known his Angel wouldn't listen to him.
 
Returning to the riverbank when he'd told her to remain at the campsite could have spelled disastrous for her.
 
Had the Indian seen her he might have used her as a shield and dragged her away.
 
Had that happened Rafe couldn't have done a damn thing about it.
 
Just thinking about the danger in which Angel had placed herself gave him the shivers.

In no time at all Rafe had finished the chores and was ready to leave.
 
He helped Angela to mount, then handed her the reins.
 
"I don't suppose you're anxious to leave my company with Indians lurking nearby," he said as he leapt into his saddle.
 
"I'll lead the way."

"Where are we going?"

"As far away from here as we can get.
 
We'll probably have to travel all night to lose them.
 
It will slow us up some but it's a helluva lot healthier."

They continued in a southeasterly direction until the sun rose over the plains, bathing them in brilliant shards of light.
 
Rafe knew Angel had to be exhausted for he was all but done in himself.
 
He glanced back at Angel and saw her totter sideways in the saddle.
 
Holding his horse back until they were apace, he reached out and swung her before him in his saddle.
 
He smiled when she sighed and snuggled against him.
 
Nothing in his life had ever felt so right.
 
Then he grasped her horse's reins and plodded onward.

A short time later Rafe spied an unusual rock formation that looked as if it might provide the protection he sought.
 
The place appeared to be garden of rocks, all leaning haphazardly against one another.

He guided the horses deep within the bowels of the towering stones, satisfied with his choice when he realized how secluded it was.
 
There was a scant trickle of water seeping from between two rocks and Rafe decided it was all they needed since both their canteens were full.

Holding Angela upright in the saddle, he carefully dismounted.
 
Then he placed her on the ground while he spread out their bedrolls.
 
He'd thought they should eat first, but Angel was so soundly asleep he decided food could wait.
 
Rest was more important.

He spread out the bedrolls and placed Angela carefully atop hers.
 
Then he pulled off her boots and inspected her feet.
 
His expression turned grim when he saw the torn and bruised flesh.
 
He retrieved the salve in his saddlebags and spread another layer over the injured area.
 
Then he covered her with a blanket and lay down beside her.
 
His arms curled around her and he pulled her into the curve of his body.

The sun was sinking below the distant mountains when Angela awakened hours later.
 
She sat up and glanced around, having no idea where she was or how she had gotten here.
 
She stretched and was immediately sorry.
 
Every bone in her body ached.
 
She searched her brain for answers but the last thing she remembered was following behind Rafe for what seemed like an eternity.
 
She remembered darkness, then light, and after that she recalled little else.
 
Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she realized she was famished.