Authors: Jennifer Jakes
His heart hammered as he struggled against Simon.
“Maggie!”
“I’m right here.” Her soft voice broke through the terror as she rubbed slow circles over his chest.
His eyes opened, unfocused, hazy as his heart hammered.
“You had a nightmare.”
Sweat rolled down his temple as he shook free from the images and looked around the dim room. Maggie squatted beside him, her eyes wide with worry.
“Wouldn’t be the first one.” He climbed to his feet, then walked to the window and stared outside at the darkness. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”
She looked doubtful. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head. She could never accept what he’d done.
“Well…all right.” She shuffled to the bed.
He turned his back and tended the fire. It had been months since the dream haunted him, but tonight the past and present collided. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then dragged a hand through his damp hair.
It had to be the cavalry, the major, the hateful comments.
Or how much I care for Maggie.
He heaved a long sigh and padded back to the bed.
She lay sleeping on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek like a child. He couldn’t resist touching a stray curl and rubbed the silky strand between his fingers. How could she be so soft, yet so strong? Even with her cousin after them, she put friends first—and put her trust in Rafe.
God, what if he let her down? He couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to her.
He smoothed her blanket, then sprawled onto the settee.
How much would she trust him once she knew he’d killed Shane Pierson?
****
“Did you forget something?”
“No.” He ushered her out the door, but dawdled on the boardwalk.
Frigid air billowed her coat, sending goose flesh chasing chills down her body. She shivered, her patience dissipating like her frosty breath. He rushed her all morning, now he dragged his feet like a tardy schoolboy.
She stopped in front of a boarded-up mercantile, waiting. “Is something wrong?”
He snapped his attention to her. “Why would you think that?”
Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
They inched down the boardwalk, Rafe distracted and antsy.
“You know…” He stopped and glanced back at the hotel. “I want to make sure I settled our bill.”
“But you—”
“Go ahead. I’ll hurry.”
He was up to something. They both knew he paid the clerk. What happened to slipping away while the cavalry slept? A dozen scenarios flashed through her mind. A ll of them bad. If he started a fight…
She’d give him five minutes.
A t the livery, she yanked on the door. The rusty hinges squeaked open, and she braced for the odor of horse manure. Inside the dim barn, several soft nickers greeted her, and she walked to Moses’ stall. He peeked over the wooden gate, his huge head bobbing for attention.
“What?” Maggie whispered, rubbing his velvet nose.
“A re you glad to see me?”
“I sure am.” The slurred words echoed along with the bang of the oak door.
Maggie whirled, panic shooting through her like lightning. Who followed her?
The man lumbered from the shadows, dust motes floating around his Union-blue coat.
“Major Douglas.” She swallowed and backed toward the saddle rack. He reeked of whiskey and stood too close for comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” she edged toward the door, “I have to find my husband.”
“I don’t think so.” He caught her arm. “I think we need a few minutes alone.” His gaze scoured her.
Oh, God. Oh, God. He wore the same hungry look as the men in Cougar Creek. Her heart crawled into her throat and panic broke free in her chest.
“Let go of me!” She yanked free.
He shook his head. “I just can’t understand you being with a no-good coward like McBride.”
The hateful words spiked her temper and swept away her common sense. “I’m sorry you don’t like my husband. But that has nothing to do with me.” She turned. Just walk to the door. You can make it.
“Oh, you’re wrong about that,” the major scoffed. He rushed the entry and blocked it with his considerable weight.
Why hadn’t she escaped instead of defending Rafe?
What had he told her about helping?
She swallowed hard, then attempted to push past.
“Major, if you don’t move, I’m going to scream this barn down.”
His pudgy hand shot out and clamped over her mouth, grinding her lips against her teeth until she tasted blood. “I don’t think so. If you scream, McBride dies.
Understand?”
Her knees buckled. Oh, God! Did the soldiers have Rafe?
She nodded, and his rough palm slid free.
“What did you do to him?” Her stomach clenched into knots as images of Rafe, beaten and bloodied filled her mind. She had to get free and find him.
“Nothing he didn’t deserve. A nd I’m gonna take care of you, too.” Douglas shoved her into an empty stall.
“Real good care.”
Her stomach dropped, and fear slithered down her spine.
“No.” She rocked back and kicked his shins. Her toes cracked against his thick leather cavalry boots. “Help me!
Someone—”
“Shut up.” A back-handed slap bounced her head off a rough oak post.
Dizzying spots danced in front of her eyes. The horses spooked in the next stall. Moses squealed in agitation.
Could she climb over the divider, over the horses and escape out the window? She clawed the wood, trying to get a toehold, but the major grabbed her by the hair and slammed her back against the wall, then pressed his reddened face to hers.
“Shane Pierson was my godson.” The sharp cut of liquor stung her nose. “A nd that bastard McBride walked away unpunished.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she cried.
“Bullshit.” He slapped her again, then encircled her throat, cutting off air. “But I’m gonna get revenge for Shane and his brother. A nd I’m gonna enjoy it.” His free hand groped beneath her coat, ripped at the buttons on her trousers.
“No,” she squeaked, unable to draw a full breath.
Tears burned her eyes, and Rafe’s name burned in her throat. This couldn’t happen.
Fight him!
She pounded his head and shoulders, boxed his ears and stomped his toes. Nothing stopped his mauling. She needed a weapon. There had to be tools here. Something sharp, something heavy…dear God, anything.
Reaching back, she flattened her palm along the splintered post and searched.
A coil of rope, a small brush, an empty grain bag…
Darkness swam around her. Don’t faint! She had to get away—and Rafe needed her.
Curling her fingers, she gouged at Douglas’ eyes. His vile curse echoed through the barn, but his grip loosened, and she wheezed a shallow breath.
“You bitch.” He drew back a fist.
Maggie ducked and dropped to the floor. The thin edge of a shovel bit into her knee. Her tearful thanks covered her pain-filled curse as she grabbed the broken handle and sprang to her feet, swinging like a deranged woman. The dull thud of metal against bone shook her like the rumble of cannon fire.
The major staggered, shock in his eyes, blood peppering his temple. He swiped at the slow trickle, smearing it across his forehead, then bared his teeth like an animal. “You’re gonna die for that.”
“Get the hell away from her!” Rafe plowed through the door and tackled Douglas to the ground.
Papers fluttered from Rafe’s hand, large square snowflakes drifting to the floor, serenity surrounding violence. The fractured sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the air, mixing with grunts, curses, and dust.
Rafe wrenched the major up by the collar, then punched him once, twice, blow after blow, until the man’s head lolled on his neck and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Stop. You’ll kill him,” Maggie screamed across the room. Though the deviant deserved it, Rafe would be jailed or hanged.
He froze mid-swing, then whirled, as if just remembering she watched from the corner. The major crumpled to a heap onto the floor, and Rafe bolted toward her. Her shovel clattered to the ground as he slid to a stop and pulled her into his arms, pressed her against his thundering chest.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” The words breezed over her, his battered knuckles brushed back her hair, trailed her jaw. “I should have stayed with you, protected you.”
She shook her head, unable to put words together.
Hot tears streamed down her stinging face, and delayed panic roared through her head like a locomotive. She was lost. Drowning. Paralyzed. The major would have—He wanted to—
A buzz replaced the roar. The room started to spin, her teeth chattered, and her knees buckled.
“Maggie, please. Say something. Look at me!” Panic filled his eyes, and he held her tighter, wrapping her in his heat. The room stilled. Everything slowed until his words, his touch settled over her like a thick, warm quilt.
“Rafe.” Her hands slid over his shoulders. Safe, finally safe.
“Sweetheart, I—” He swallowed hard, his throat convulsing. “I’m so sorry I let you get hurt.” She cupped his whiskered face with both palms. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. He cried for her? But didn’t that mean…oh, Lord. Did Rafe care about her?
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I swear.” He closed his eyes and laid his cheek aside hers, whispering kisses and apologies along her hairline. His arms tightened, and his lips brushed her ear. “Maggie, I—”
“What the hell?” A hoarse voice sliced through the silence.
Rafe reeled toward the door, tucking Maggie behind him. She tried to peek around his body, but he sidestepped protectively. In one flick of his wrist, he pointed his pistol at the intruder.
“Step inside real slow,” Rafe ordered. “Or you’re dead.”
“By God, you ain’t gonna shoot me in my own barn.” Myrna stomped inside, double-barrel shotgun aimed and steady. She looked even wilder in the morning light, her greasy hair sticking out from her hat in several directions, a cud of tobacco filling her cheek. The horses stomped and shuffled, stirring up dust around the stalls.
Rafe lowered his weapon, but his heart thumped until he thought it would explode. What if it had been one of the soldiers? Damn it, he and Maggie had to get out of town!
“Ma’am, I can explain.” He’d better do some fast talking before she started screaming.
“Just hold up on your explaining, handsome.” She flipped the gun over her thin shoulder, then walked to the major and nudged him with the toe of her boot. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she peered around Rafe to stare at Maggie. “Who beat you?”
“Him.” Maggie pointed to Douglas’ prone form.
“Rotten bastard.” Myrna drew back and kicked the major’s ribs. His low groan filled the room. “Too bad he ain’t dead. I can’t tolerate a man who hurts women. My second husband hit me once. But just once.” Her grim words hung in the air like smoke.
Rafe nodded. He’d found an ally. God must like him today. “We need to get out of here before the soldiers start searching for the major.”
“We’ll hide him.” Myrna propped her gun against the wall and grabbed the man under the armpits. “Let’s put him in with Satan. We can say the major got drunk and passed out. With any luck, the horse will stomp all over him.” She cackled with laughter, then spit a wad of tobacco onto the ground. “Well, come on, grab his ankles.”
Rafe bent and hefted the major over his shoulder.
“I’ll move him. Can you get Moses and bring my tack?”
“A ll right. The major’s horse is the black by himself.” She nodded on her way toward Moses.
Rafe dumped the unconscious man inside the stall and turned to Maggie. Her eyes looked glassy, absent, like a young soldier after seeing his first battle. He wished he could take her into his arms and carry her someplace safe and warm, someplace with a big copper bathtub and a soft four-poster bed.
A ll he could offer was twelve hours in the snow on horseback.
“Sweetheart, we’re going to leave soon, all right?” Rafe squeezed her hand until she looked at him. “I just have to saddle Moses.”
Maggie nodded, but didn’t speak. He felt her slipping away, back to the place she’d been a few moments ago when her eyes had been wild and vacant.
“What are these papers on the ground?” Myrna led the horse from the stall.
“They’re mine.” Rafe glanced to where Maggie stared at nothing. “They’re for…my wife.” He plucked the sheets from the floor and blew free the dust and hay, watching for her reaction.
“For me?” Maggie’s gaze snapped from the wall to Rafe.
He nodded, relieved she was talking. “So you can draw once we get home. A surprise.” A stupid, miscalculated surprise. One that almost cost Maggie her life.
She wobbled toward him, an unreadable expression haunted her eyes. Sadness? Confusion? Hate? She had every right.