Carol Finch (11 page)

She was pleased to note that the two men Rafe had dressed down were the ringleaders of the vigilantes. They had dragged her in front of their kangaroo court and accused her of accosting her own brother.

Karissa smiled to herself, remembering how Amanda had come flying to her defense. Amanda might have been dainty and with child, but she had stood up valiantly for Karissa.

When Rafe ambled back to her, Karissa helplessly appraised his powerful physique. It was no wonder he had risen through military ranks with incredible speed. With his height and commanding presence he was simply born to lead. And despite his avid dedication to following rules and regulations he was a fair, just and generous man.

“That’s only a sampling of what we can expect when claim disputes erupt tomorrow,” Rafe grumbled as he swiftly unsaddled Sergeant. “I hope to hell that you own a firearm, Karissa. If not, you might find yourself on the losing end of an argument over who staked your claim first. If I could forbid you and the other daredevil women who insist on making this Run, I would do it in a heartbeat. Your gender is at a definite disadvantage. Please tell me you have a weapon so you can defend yourself.”

She tossed him a wry smile and said, “No, I sold mine last month, but I will be well armed, General. As you have often reminded me, I have a very sharp tongue. Although Amanda’s father gave her a pistol before we left Kansas, she will need it for her own protection and Clint’s rifle is exactly that.
His
rifle.”

He shook his head in dismay, huffed out a breath, pulled his pistol from its holster and handed it to her. “Take this and don’t hesitate to fire if the need arises. You do know how to use one of these things, don’t you?”

Karissa nodded as she clamped hold of the pistol. “I taught myself to be reasonably proficient with weapons early on in life. Unfortunately, I had to sell the one I used for protection to finance our trip from Kansas.”

She didn’t add that she had often employed her former weapon as an imposing threat and as an improvised club when men had tried to accost her. Rafe already believed her to be a scrappy, unconventional female. No need to mention those near brushes with disaster.

Leading Sergeant behind him, Rafe carried the saddle back to the tent then staked his horse nearby. “Keep a close watch on my horse,” he instructed. “The last thing you need is to have him stolen the night before the Run.”

“I’ll sleep beside him,” she insisted. And she would, too. No one was going to steal her opportunity to run this race on such a powerful horse.

Rafe expelled an exasperated sigh. “I’m worried about your safety, damn it. Not just during and after the Run, but here in this camp.”

“I’ve found myself in dire straits and waged lopsided battles dozens of times in my life,” she informed him.
“Now, as then, there was no one to depend on except myself. I’m not your responsibility or your concern.”

No, she wasn’t, but that didn’t stop Rafe from worrying about her. He could imagine all sorts of frightful scenarios befalling this pint-sized woman who spit in the eye of trouble and refused to back down.

True, she was resourceful and self-reliant, but she was also a woman. It was second nature for him to serve and protect. And as hard as he tried, he couldn’t overcome his feelings of protectiveness toward Karissa. She had gotten under his skin and preyed on his carefully guarded emotions. When she was out of sight he still couldn’t get her off his mind, not even when Vanessa tried to distract him every spare minute that he wasn’t involved with his military duties.

“I should go,” he said abruptly. “I have rounds to make at the Indian agency at Darlington before I return to the post.”

When she nodded, the campfire light reflected off her shiny red head and he was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to sink his hands into those curly tendrils and devour her with his kiss. Damn, when had she become so irresistibly beautiful to him? Even in her faded gown and with the suntan that testified to spending time outdoors while leading her hand-to-mouth existence, he found her irresistibly attractive. He even liked that adorable crop of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Just when, he wondered, had she become the icon of feminine spirit and perfection?

In comparison, Vanessa looked anemic, overdressed and out of place on the frontier. Not that he spent much time worrying what his family would think or how they would react, but he was curious how the dignified Hunters would perceive Karissa. His own mother was as
much a socialite as Vanessa Payton, which was probably why his father thought she would make the perfect wife.

“I am truly grateful for your help,” Karissa murmured, refusing to meet his gaze directly. She stared, unblinkingly at Sergeant, as if the roan gelding was the answer to all her prayers. “And I’m um…sorry that I was a nuisance and embarrassment to you while I was at the fort. I um…hope you and Vanessa will be very happy.”

He studied her closely, wondering if this impossible attraction he felt for her was mutual. But, given the situation with Vanessa, Rafe couldn’t ask; indeed, he shouldn’t be feeling anything at all for Karissa.

But he did.

“You do?” he asked softly, watching for some sign that she longed for more than friendship between them.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Karissa said with all the casual nonchalance she could muster. “You and your fiancée are a great deal alike.”

Rafe winced. “Vanessa is insisting on having the ceremony at the post rather than in Virginia,” he declared.

“I’m sure with her background and good breeding it will be a splendid affair, no matter where the wedding takes place,” Karissa muttered.

She should be grateful that Rafe would soon be wed so she could put aside this secret whimsy. Her life was no fairy tale and there was no handsome prince in her future. The sooner she accepted that reality the better off she would be.

“Again, thank you,” Karissa whispered.

She pivoted on her boot heels and headed for the tent. She had supplies to pack in preparation for making the Run and setting up camp on her claim. She had to focus on her objective and put Rafe out of her mind. She re
fused to get mushy and sentimental over a man who undoubtedly was relieved to have her out of his hair once and for all.

She didn’t glance back when he wished her good luck in the race; she just kept walking right out of his life. It was for the best, after all, and if she had a brain in her head she wouldn’t let herself forget it.

“How is Karissa holding up under the anxiety of tomorrow’s race?”

Rafe flinched then scowled when Micah materialized from the shadows of the stable like a wraith. “Damn it, I swear you enjoy sneaking up on people and giving them a start.”

Micah’s teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Part of my training as a Choctaw warrior. I excelled at sneaking up on folks unaware. Head of my class, in fact.”

Rafe was in no mood for Micah’s teasing. During the ride back to the garrison he kept mentally listing all the worst-case scenarios that might befall Karissa and the other independent-minded women who were intent on making the Run.

Hell, if he weren’t in charge of monitoring this crazed race he would volunteer to stake a claim for Karissa—anything to insure her safety when the wild stampede began.

“You’re in a sour mood,” Micah observed as he watched Rafe stable his mount. “Did you and Karissa have another argument?”

“No, we did not. We were exceptionally civil to each other.”

“What a shame,” Micah taunted mischievously. “I enjoy watching you get all worked up after she sets a fire under you.” Before Rafe could jump down his
throat, Micah hurried on. “Your fiancée has been looking for you and she is dressed fit to kill. My guess is that she plans to seduce you this evening, just in case you’re having misgivings about the upcoming wedding.” He grinned outrageously. “Someone around here is definitely going to get lucky tonight.”

Rafe locked the horse in the stall and turned to see Micah’s vivid blue eyes twinkling with deviltry. “I do not
choose
to get lucky, as you so crudely put it. I have a long, harrowing day ahead of me and so do you. Why don’t we both call it a night?”

“Fine by me, my friend.” Micah ambled alongside Rafe as they crossed the parade grounds. “I
am
going to get to be your best man, aren’t I? Wouldn’t want to miss the upcoming nuptials, ya know.”

“Knock it off, Micah. You’re spoiling what’s left of my disposition,” Rafe muttered.

“Well, here goes the rest of it,” Micah murmured as Vanessa appeared from the shadows near the officers’ quarters, her bejeweled neck and wrists sparkling in the lamplight. “If her plunging neckline isn’t an invitation to look and touch I don’t know what is.”

“Rafe, there you are!” Vanessa called out as she wiggled and jiggled her way toward him. “Did you just now return from patrol, you poor dear? You really should delegate some of your duties to your subordinates.” She stared surreptitiously at Micah. “I’m sure Captain Whitfield wouldn’t mind covering your evening duties so that we can spend some time together.”

“Glad she’s marrying you and not me,” Micah muttered aside, before he veered around Vanessa and hurried off to his quarters to bed down for the night.

“I’ll escort you to your room,” Rafe volunteered as he grasped her arm to reverse direction. “I won’t be
around at all tomorrow so you’ll have to entertain yourself, I’m afraid. Overseeing the Run and quelling disputes will demand all of my time and attention.”

“Then it’s important we make the most of this evening,” Vanessa cooed, then flashed an inviting smile.

Rafe halted at the door, opened it then gestured for Vanessa to enter. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Vanessa. I know I have left you to your own devices for hours on end, but you’ve come at a bad time. Good night.”

When she looped her arms around his neck and pushed up on tiptoe to kiss him, Rafe didn’t respond to the obvious invitation. He set her away from him, bowed politely and beat a fast retreat. It tormented him no end that enduring Vanessa’s kiss felt like a betrayal to Karissa.

Now that was irony for you, Rafe thought. He wanted nothing to do with his fiancée, because he felt stronger sentiments toward the woman everyone at the post presumed to be his mistress.

When Rafe turned and walked away, Vanessa glared daggers at him. Never in her life had a man rejected her. She had been a much-sought-after debutante and it was infuriating to realize her practiced charm had no effect on Rafe.

Damn him to hell and back! Surely he hadn’t been tumbling in the hay with his whore again. How could he? By now he must have heard that she’d been accused of assault and theft.

Either that or Harlan had lied to her when he claimed he’d framed Karissa for robbery, Vanessa thought suspiciously. Men! You couldn’t trust them to do what you told them to do. If Vanessa knew where to find that
harlot she would ride off to wring the woman’s neck, once and for all.

This situation was getting desperate, she mused as she dressed for bed. There was nothing to do but put her wedding plans in motion while Rafe was busy tending this ridiculous race for land. She would spend her time hand-printing invitations and making arrangements with the cooks to prepare the semblance of a wedding feast at the mess hall.

Vanessa snorted distastefully. This was likely to be the wedding reception from hell. Well, offensive as the thought was it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Rafe signed the marriage license. It was all she needed when she returned to Virginia. She certainly didn’t need him as a companion when the men of her acquaintance fell all over themselves to escort her from one grand ball to the next and begged for a dance in her arms and a tryst in her bed.

She would be back where she belonged and that pesky Harlan Billings could send all the blackmail notes he wanted. It wouldn’t matter to her. She would have what she wanted.

The comforting thought wiped the snarl off Vanessa’s face as she stretched out on her cot. She was playing for high stakes and she had no intention of losing the meal ticket that went by the name of Commander Rafe Hunter.

K
arissa hadn’t managed to get much sleep the previous night. Eager apprehension had her nerves strung tighter than fence wire. She was anxious to approach the starting line and begin the Run, but she couldn’t saddle up and ride away until she helped Clint and Amanda disassemble the tent and pack their few worldly possessions in the wagon.

As Karissa requested, Clint and Amanda would wait at least an hour after the wild stampede for land. They would follow at a slower pace that wouldn’t endanger their unborn child and cause undo stress on Clint’s mending leg and aching head. Once Karissa staked their claim—and she refused to consider that she wouldn’t reach their prospective homestead ahead of the thundering hordes—her brother and sister-in-law would arrive to help her set up the tent on their new property.

Two hours before the race, Karissa saddled Sergeant, grabbed the peeled willow stick that Amanda had decorated with colorful ribbons from her own gowns and printed the name Baxter in bold letters. The eye-catching stake was to be placed at the corner of the property to
prevent other would-be settlers from attempting to secure the same homestead.

Sergeant tossed his head and pranced sideways as he jockeyed for position among the other horses and riders who were headed toward the boundary that had been marked by stones and protected by a picket line of soldiers who formed a human wall along the western border to Oklahoma Territory. It didn’t take Karissa long to realize that Sergeant was as much a born leader as his master, for the horse quickened his pace reflexively when one of the other mounts tried to surge past him.

Sergeant, it seemed, preferred to lead the pack, not follow dutifully behind the herd. That, Karissa was sure, would work to her advantage when the wild race began. All she had to do was clamp herself to the powerful gelding and he would do the rest.

Karissa inwardly groaned when she noticed the multitude of settlers migrating toward the boundary line. Sweet mercy, there were thousands of would-be settlers descending like a swarm of locusts. There couldn’t possibly be enough homesteads in the area to accommodate all these settlers who carried their colorful stakes like banners to mark their claims.

Some of these people were doomed to disappointment, she realized. Karissa sent a quick prayer heavenward that she wouldn’t be one of them.

Her anxious thoughts scattered when she saw Rafe mounted on the black gelding he had been riding the previous night when he arrived in camp. He was directing traffic as he trotted back and forth across the prairie, behind the picket wall of uniformed soldiers. When their eyes met across the distance he sent her an encouraging smile. Karissa sucked in a calming breath and tried to control her nervous jitters.

Resolutely she focused absolute concentration on Rafe, watching him move like a centaur on his mount. She tried to stop fretting about all the prospective settlers that were crowding in around her, causing her to slam against the riders on either side of her.

“I’m apologizin’ in advance, ma’am,” said the bewhiskered man to her right. “My mamma taught me to be gracious to ladies, but I can tell ya right now that if you git in my way durin’ the race I won’t be worryin’ about my manners.”

“Me neither, ma’am,” the man on her left spoke up. “All’s fair in races such as this, and I got a family depending on me to find a homestead.”

“I understand perfectly,” Karissa told them as she settled more comfortably in the saddle. “And you’ll understand that I won’t be apologizing when I leave the both of you choking in my dust.”

The men snickered good-naturedly.

“Best of luck to ya, then, ma’am,” said the man on the right. “It’s every man—or woman—for hisself in this free-for-all. Just don’t git in my way.”

Sergeant half reared when the horse behind him gouged him in the rump. Like falling dominoes, the entire line of hopeful settlers shifted and resettled into their positions.

Karissa swore her heart was about to beat her to death when the man on her left checked his timepiece and announced that it was five minutes until noon. Five minutes before all hell broke loose on this virgin prairie, Karissa thought. Five minutes until dreams were fulfilled—or shattered beneath thundering hooves.

She swallowed apprehensively then returned her attention to Rafe. Her pulse leaped into double time when he lifted his pistol in the air and ordered his soldiers to
do the same. Micah, who had shifted position so that he was almost directly in front of her, tossed her a wink and an encouraging smile.

Karissa was so tense that she wasn’t sure she could have smiled if her life depended on it. Clint and Amanda were counting on her and she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing them. She silently hoped that half the settlers crowding the line were headed for the fifty-foot town sites that had been plotted in advance and that they weren’t interested in a homestead. The less competition the better.

“Ready, aim, fire!” Rafe yelled at the top of his lungs.

The explosion of the cannon from the fort split the air and smoke from the soldiers’ pistols drifted in the breeze. Karissa yelped in surprise when Sergeant, without her command, plunged into a gallop.

Rafe had been right on the mark when he cautioned her to hold on for dear life when Sergeant took off from the starting line. She had never been on the back of such a swift, powerful horse. Sergeant’s long-legged strides ate up the ground and the wind roared in her ears as she thundered across the prairie with thousands of settlers breathing down her neck.

Behind the wall of laboring horses, the wagons and carriages bounced precariously over the uneven terrain. Karissa heard the pained cries of settlers who had been catapulted from their wagons and had to scramble for their lives to prevent being trampled. Beside her, one rider screamed in terror when his horse stumbled.

Karissa was assailed by the instinctive need to stop and help those who had fallen, but trying to rein in Sergeant was next to impossible. The gelding had lowered his head, laid back his ears and increased his speed. The
horses that had been racing neck to neck with him were left to stare at his departing rump.

When Karissa veered southeast to reach her claim, she noted the human wall of riders had begun to fan out in all directions. Stakes clutched in their fists, eyes gleaming with expectation, the settlers thundered across the prairie, searching for the property that appealed to them most.

Some riders hurled their colorful stakes like lances when they spied a cornerstone that marked a homestead. Foul curses and angry shouts erupted when rival settlers attempted to claim the same plot of land. But Karissa rode on, vowing that wouldn’t happen to her. With Sergeant’s help she would outrun the greedy masses and stake her claim minutes before the other riders caught up with her.

She galloped over rolling hills that stood knee-deep in grass. She clamped herself around Sergeant as he took the narrow creeks in a single bound and scrabbled up the steep slopes to stretch out in a canter.

There in the distance, a quarter of a mile ahead of her, Karissa spotted the cornerstone of the property she had selected. To her dismay, she saw a man on foot, emerging from the tree-choked creek with his long coattails flapping. He sprinted toward the cornerstone to claim the land before she could reach it.

“Damn Sooner!” she shouted furiously.

She knew perfectly well that the settler had sneaked inside the line during the night to stake the claim. It was impossible for a man on foot to outrun Sergeant, who was leading the pack by five lengths.

“The place is mine!” the man yelled as he scuttled toward the cornerstone. “Go find another homestead, missy!”

Teeth gritted, stake raised like a lance, Karissa gouged Sergeant in the flanks, urging him to run like he had never run before. When the Sooner cocked his arm to hurl his stake toward the cornerstone, Karissa did likewise. Her stake sailed through the air, its sharp point sticking into the ground, its colorful ribbons rippling in the breeze.

Her triumphant shout transformed into a shriek when her rival’s stake grazed her thigh then cartwheeled over Sergeant’s head. The horse reared up and Karissa, un-prepared, somersaulted over his rump and landed with a thud and a groan. Gasping to draw a pained breath, she watched her rival charge toward his fallen stake. She knew his intent, the sneaky claim-jumper! He planned to yank her stake from the ground and replace it with his own.

Karissa surged off the ground, favoring her injured leg, and gave chase. “That’s cheating!” she railed furiously.

When the man in the floppy-brimmed hat screeched to a halt and reached for her stake, Karissa launched herself at him, knocking him facedown in the grass. Before she could whack him over the head with the butt end of her borrowed pistol, he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her sideways. Karissa struggled to upright herself, but the scoundrel backhanded her, sending her rolling downhill.

By the time she gathered her feet beneath her, the jeering claim-jumper had drawn his pistol and pointed it at her head. “Don’t think I’m gonna grant you any favors, just because you’re a woman,” he snapped at her. “I was paid damn good money to sneak in here and stake this claim.”

“That’s cheating, too,” she muttered at him.

“Well, that’s life, honey. Now git on yer horse and git outta here before I turn you into a casualty of this Run.”

“Put the gun down. Now,” came a booming voice from the distance.

Karissa glanced sideways to see Rafe thundering toward him, his Winchester in firing position and his handsome face scrunched up in a menacing snarl.

“She’s tryin’ to steal my claim,” the man shouted. “Woman or not, I won’t let her get away with it.”

Rafe skidded his laboring steed to a halt and took the man’s measure. “I witnessed your scuffle,” he growled. “The lady put her stake at the cornerstone first.”

The fence-rail-thin claim-jumper smirked as he lowered his gun. “I’m sure you’ll expect her to be immensely grateful for coming to her rescue. A word of caution, soldier, she fights dirty, so you might want to rethink samplin’ her charms after ridin’ in here like her white knight.”

When the scrawny man snatched up his stake and darted off, Rafe slammed the rifle into its sling on the saddle and dismounted. Karissa had scared another ten years off his life while he watched her battle the claim-jumper.

“Damn it to blazing hell, woman, this claim is not worth your life!”

Karissa clambered to her feet, dusted off her ill-fitting breeches and said, “Thank you for settling the dispute.”

The beaming smile that lit up her face stole the breath from his lungs and melted his anger like butter in a hot skillet. He could tell that she was so pleased with her success she was damn near bursting with it.

Seeing her this happy, her eyes twinkling like emeralds in the sunlight, Rafe couldn’t bring himself to scold
her further for her daring and determination. He simply had to accept the fact that Karissa Baxter was who she was—a woman on a self-sacrificing mission to help her family. A resourceful, independent woman who had been forced to learn to survive at an early age and had developed the courage to face whatever battles she encountered.

In his mind, Karissa epitomized the pioneer spirit. She had weathered the hardships of her exodus from Kansas, faced difficult odds and looked to the future with unfaltering hope.

Rafe was so damn proud of her that he wanted to hug her. Of course, at the same time, he wanted to shake the stuffing out of her for squaring off against that scrawny ruffian who had looked as if he had every intention of shooting her, dragging her lifeless body down to the creek and dropping her into a shallow grave.

“I did it!” Karissa declared, excitement bubbling up in her voice. “It was worth the struggle. And I have you to thank for lending me your horse. I swear Sergeant had wings when he took off from the starting line. He was magnificent! Oh, Rafe, thank you so much!”

When she came flying toward him, her wild hair billowing behind her, her manly breeches covered with dirt and grass, he felt his heart dissolve in his chest and dribble down his rib cage. He scooped her up in his arms and swung her in a dizzying circle while she nuzzled her cheek against his neck.

“On top of the world, are you?” he chuckled as he held her close.

He felt her smile against the side of his neck before she nodded her head. “Can you possibly imagine what it’s like to own little more than your own name and
suddenly lay claim to a hundred sixty acres of fertile farmland?”

No, he couldn’t. He’d been born into a wealthy family, the only son of an only son. He had never had to scratch and claw for anything in his life. He’d had to fight like the very devil a few times to survive in battle, but he had never doubted where his next meal would come from or how he would pay for it.

Oh certainly, he had worked hard to earn promotions on merit, although there were always those—like Harlan Billings—who insisted his family name and wealth were the reasons he had made the rank of major by the age of thirty-three. He had a few battle scars to prove that he didn’t believe in waging war from the sidelines. He led his men into battle; he didn’t watch them fight while staring through a spyglass and standing well out of cannon and rifle range.

He knew the self-satisfaction of seeing a job well-done. So yes, he could imagine how elated Karissa felt at the moment. The fact that he was here to share her joy and excitement was a memory he would savor for a long time.

He wondered if she was glad that she had earned the right to file a deed for this property legally—instead of sneaking in like a thief in the night to take advantage of the other settlers who made the race.

As if she could read his mind, she said, “I cursed you mightily in the beginning, but I’m ever so glad you made me follow your rules.” When he lowered her to the ground, she stepped back to peer up him at from beneath long curly lashes. “I doubt my conscience would let me sleep at night if I had managed to avoid your patrols and cheated the other homesteaders.”

Rafe brushed his fingertips over the welt on her
cheek—compliments of the vicious claim-jumper. “Glad to hear you say that, Karissa. If not for rules and regulations, undesirables would own most of these homesteads and town sites. The honest citizens wouldn’t stand a chance against them.”