Carol Finch (17 page)

After all,
she
hadn’t been the first woman
he
had slept with. How could she have forgotten that men—even Rafe—were ruled by their lusts, when it came to their association with women? Imbecile that she was, she had let herself believe that their night of passion was a turning point in their relationship. She had wanted to think that Rafe had called off his engagement because of his affection for
her.
But it was only physical, she realized, heartbroken. She had been a challenge to him. He had come to her, thinking she had been intimate with other men. He had only discovered the truth when she surrendered to her overwhelming desire for him.

“Damn it, stop looking at me as if I just sliced you open,” he muttered as he tried to reach out to her.

“You might as well have,” she sputtered as she shrank away from his touch. “So much for innocent until proved guilty. I was framed, damn it, just like I was framed for clubbing my own brother over the head and stealing the money
I
gave to
him.
”

“I am only trying to get all the facts straight,” Rafe defended. “Do you honestly think I want to see you punished for this horrific crime?”

“I honestly think that I can’t trust you any more than you trust me. And I might not be the brightest star in the galaxy, but I’m not so dense that I can’t tell this whole affair stinks to high heaven.”

She swiped at the infuriating tears then poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “Answer me this, General. If I
had
stolen the money, after I killed those men outright, or in self-defense, as you seem to think, why didn’t I bury the money? Do you think I would be stupid enough to leave the evidence in the saddlebag, along with that pistol that I have never seen before in my life? I told you that I no longer
own
a pistol and I didn’t
borrow Amanda’s, either. I didn’t shoot anyone, but I’m certainly contemplating taking a few shots at you!”

“Karissa, calm down. I—”

“
Me?
Calm down?” she cried in frustration. “
You
can just hush up! I’ve heard quite enough out of you!”

“You haven’t allowed me to say much of anything yet,” he growled at her, his eyes billowing like a thunderstorm.

“You have said plenty, thank you very much.” She glared at him angrily. “Your belief in me has its limitations, doesn’t it? It will always have limitations. I know I’m outranked and outclassed and you know it, too. I’m just a nobody who would do anything to get by in life.”

She upheld her hands, which were still tied in front of her, and lifted a challenging brow. “Are you going to untie me, General? Or do you prefer to tether me to the nearest tree because you don’t trust me to be here when you get back?”

His momentary hesitation was like the last nail pounded into her coffin. He really
didn’t
trust her, really didn’t believe she was a woman of her word. Now there was no doubt in her mind that she had been only time he was killing, the place he had come for one night of physical satisfaction. He
didn’t
think she was his social equal and, therefore, she
couldn’t
be trusted completely.

To her surprise, he grabbed his dagger and slashed the rope between her wrists. “I expect you to be exactly where I left you when Micah and I get back. Do not make me regret doing this, Rissa.”

She stared at him uncertainly. Was this supposed to be his show of faith—though it was too late in coming? He had cut her loose, but she could tell by the way he
was looking at her that he was still wondering if he had made the right decision.

Well, she wasn’t going to cry foul again and blubber more humiliating tears to convince him of her integrity. He either believed her because he knew, deep down in his soul, that she did have character and honor, or he didn’t believe. And by damned, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He deserved to sweat it out, she thought resentfully. Let him stew in his own juice and wonder if she would be here when he returned.

Karissa struck a cocky pose and tilted her head to a sassy angle. “Now be a daisy and run along, General,” she drawled and batted her eyelashes for effect. “I’ll just sit here and hold my breath till y’all get back.”

“Woman, swear to God, you do not know when to quit,” Rafe muttered irritably. “Don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is.”

She stared him down for a long, poignant moment. “You
never
quit if you hope to survive, General. I know I can depend and rely on no one but myself. I obviously suffered a momentary lapse of sanity when I let myself think that a man like
you
would honestly believe a woman like
me.
”

“Rissa, you’ve gotten the wrong impression here,” he protested heatedly.

She glared pitchforks at him. “You’re right about that, and it all started the night you bought that fancy gown as payment for bedding me. What you really think is that you found me bathing in the stream because I had blood on my hands from killing my neighbors.”

“That is
not
why I gave you the dress, damn it, and that is
not
what I thought when I found you in the creek,” he muttered in frustration. “I have to leave and you need to stay put until I get back.” After casting her
one last skeptical glance, he left. “We’ll get this straightened out…somehow.”

“Sure we will,” she whispered brokenly.

He might be able to prove her innocence and save her from a hanging, but what was between them could never be the same again. His lack of faith had broken her heart and shattered her pride all to hell.

Karissa plopped down in the grass, dropped her face into her hands and bawled her head off. Being accused of murder was bad enough, but discovering that Rafe didn’t believe her beyond a shadow of a doubt was simply more than she could bear. Roiling emotions bombarded her, crumbling her composure.

She cried, then she cried some more. She cried for all the times she and Clint had been teased and ridiculed. She cried for all the years she had scratched and clawed and worked every demeaning job imaginable to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

But mostly she cried because she had discovered—the hard way—that love was the biggest illusion of all. She had lost faith and hope. For years that’s all she’d had going for her.

Now she had nothing.

Well, Karissa, that’s all you had when you came into this world. Absolutely nothing,
she reminded herself sullenly.

It looked as if she would be going out of this world the very same way.

Rafe dropped to his hands and knees then scrunched down in the prairie grass to make the long crawl back to the marshal’s makeshift office. He cursed himself soundly for displaying the slightest doubt and interjecting comments when he heard Karissa’s plea of inno
cence and lack of involvement in a crime that had left two men dead and a mob of drunken settlers itching to throw a necktie party—with her as the guest of honor.

As long as he lived, Rafe swore he would never forget the look of hurt and disappointment that settled on Karissa’s features when he questioned whether she might have acted in self-defense. And then she had gone sassy and defiant on him, leaving him to decide if he believed she was capable of taking two men’s lives.

The answer to that question was yes—if she was defending herself against assault. Rafe knew Karissa was a survivor and she had fought for everything she had in life.

“Oh, hell,” Rafe muttered when a memory suddenly flashed through his mind. He vividly recalled the day of the Land Run when he had ridden over the hill to see Karissa and Chester Gentry battling over the claim of the homestead. He also remembered that for a moment—when she had gained the upper hand against Chester—she hadn’t shot him, not even to discourage or maim him. She had used the pistol Rafe had loaned to her to club the claim-jumper over the head.

Outright shooting to kill would have been Karissa’s absolute last resort, Rafe decided.

After Rafe gave the unsettling incident second thought, he honestly wondered if she was capable of shooting a man down, even to save her own life. Certainly, she used that hard-nosed, tough-as-nails act as a means of protection and a shield of defense. But he could also cite evidence of her kindness and unfaltering devotion to her family. There was more to Karissa Baxter than met the eye—a hell of a lot more.

He never should have expressed even one iota of doubt, Rafe chastised himself. What she had needed at
that crucial moment, when the world had caved in on her, was encouragement and support. He had behaved like a judge who was appraising the situation from all angles, in hopes of arriving at the truth.

She
had needed a loyal friend.

He
had failed her completely.

Worse, he had disillusioned her and he would really like to kick himself all the way into next week for being the cause of that devastated look on her face.

If it wasn’t critically important for him to crawl back to Marshal Horton’s tent—quickly—he would have turned around and scrambled back to the spot where he had left Karissa so he could apologize all over himself. Well, he would do that as soon as he and Micah rode back to the river to fetch her.

It wasn’t going to be easy to return to Karissa’s good graces, either, he predicted. Proud and fiery as she was, it would require considerable groveling on his part to reassure her that he had a great deal of faith and respect for her.

Rafe buried himself in the tall grass, the way Micah had taught him to do the first year they had served together as scouts in the Army of the West. It was an Indian tactic that had allowed them to reconnoiter hostile tribes without being spotted. At the moment, the technique served to prevent Rafe from being seen by the wagon driver who passed ten feet from his hiding place.

When the wagon rumbled away, Rafe slithered through the grass to enter the marshal’s tent the same way he had exited—and cursed himself a thousand times over for letting Karissa think he didn’t believe she was innocent.

W
hen Rafe burrowed beneath the canvas and hurriedly came to his feet to dust off his uniform, Jake Horton heaved a gusty sigh of relief. “Glad you’re back, Commander. The natives outside are getting restless. They wanna know why you and I are having such a long powwow in here.”

“What did you tell them?” Rafe questioned.

Jake smiled wryly. “Told ’em we were trying to decide whose jurisdiction the double murders fell under, and where’d be the proper place to keep our prime suspect jailed.”

The marshal inclined his head toward the tent flap. “Micah is out there, feeding the mob a bunch of mumbo jumbo from the army’s rules and regulations manual and spouting about the right to a fair trial. Most of the mob got tired of listening and wandered off to the saloons to have a few more drinks. I don’t think the surly crowd will know Miss Baxter is gone until long after the fact.”

“Thanks, Jake, I owe you one,” Rafe said as he offered the deputy marshal his hand.

“Do you think she did it?” he asked earnestly.

“No, absolutely not. I think she was set up, but I haven’t figured out why or by whom.”

Rafe wished he had sounded this convincing when he spoke with Karissa. No doubt, he was going to pay dearly for not beating his chest and shouting to high heaven that she was innocent and he believed every word she said.

“I also think we should move all your prisoners to the garrison under the cover of darkness.” Rafe gestured toward the flimsy canvas walls. “I’m not concerned about your ability to keep these prisoners in captivity, but I don’t think you stand a chance of keeping that mob of vigilantes out.”

Jake nodded agreeably. “Send me some of your most reliable men after dark,” he requested. “The longer we wait to make the move the more risk we take.”

Rafe ducked beneath the tent flap and bit back an amused grin while he watched Micah, looking as regal as a king, pacing in front of his throne. He was citing the regulations of the army manual in a droning voice. Members of the mob who had stayed to listen looked cross-eyed, confused and befuddled. They had no idea whether the regulations Micah was quoting pertained to this infamous double murder or not.

When the mob noticed Rafe, all attention shifted to him.

“Well, who’s in charge of this situation?” one of the vigilantes demanded impatiently.

“As Captain Whitfield has been trying to explain to you—” Rafe began, only to be cut off by scowls and snorts.

“Give it to us in plain English, Commander,” someone else demanded sharply. “We can’t figure out what the captain is talking about.”

“The long and short of it is that we have a conflict of military and civil jurisdiction,” Rafe said as he walked over to his horse. “The final decision will be left to my superiors, and the marshal’s superiors, in Washington. I’m on my way back to the fort to send off a telegram. All the prisoners will remain here until we receive the necessary information.”

Rafe halted to stare down the grumbling men. “Anyone who obstructs justice will find themselves chained to the other prisoners. The marshal and I have agreed to join forces in that instance to quell further disturbances. Go about your business and let us resolve this situation lawfully.”

Still muttering, the crowd dispersed. Unfortunately, most of the men headed straight for the dance halls and saloons. Rafe decided he would send a company of soldiers to move the prisoners
immediately
after sunset—and not a moment later. He wasn’t sure this rowdy crowd would be content to wait very long before they reappeared in full force. The situation had disaster written all over it.

“About time you got back,” Micah muttered as he swung into the saddle. “I was running out of regulations to quote and I had to start devising a few of my own.”

“It was a long crawl to the river,” Rafe murmured as he trotted down the street.

“I’m sure, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be in Karissa’s shoes right now. She must think the whole world has turned against her.” Micah frowned warily when he saw Rafe wince. “What’s wrong now? Is she okay?”

“Not particularly,” Rafe replied then glanced sideways to insure no one was watching before veering off the beaten path. “I wasn’t as supportive as I should have
been when I questioned her about the incident. She got a little indignant.” And that was putting it mildly!

“I can understand if she had to act in self-defense.”

Rafe flung up his hand. “That’s where I made
my
mistake,” he interrupted. “I thought she might have been dragged off by the men who wanted her homestead and she was forced to protect herself. But she claims she was nowhere near the crime scene and that someone set her up then stashed the stolen money and murder weapon in her saddlebags.”

“Why would someone do that?” Micah mused aloud.

“That’s what we’re going to have to find out. Once we have Karissa tucked safely away, we’re going to question those supposed witnesses.”

Rafe looked into the distance to locate the place he had left Karissa. The tree-choked river had looked pretty much the same while he was belly-crawling to avoid detection. Now, from atop his horse, it was difficult to tell which meandering river bend was the right one.

“What are you doing?” Micah demanded when Rafe veered right then retraced his steps.

“I’m trying to figure out exactly where we are,” he muttered in frustration.

“It’s pretty obvious where
we
are. The question is, where is Karissa?”

A moment later Rafe noticed the flattened grass where he’d crawled and then took up the trail. “Rissa!” he called out impatiently. He waited a beat then called her name again. When she didn’t emerge from the underbrush, Rafe swore ripely and bounded from the saddle.

“Just how mad
was
she when she realized you weren’t totally convinced of her innocence?” Micah asked as he dismounted. “Mad enough to break and run?”

“That’s the same question I’m asking myself,” Rafe scowled as squatted down to brush his hand over the slight indentation of footprints.

Micah moved ahead of him, following the single set of tracks that led to the riverbank. “You know what’s going to happen if she took off, don’t you? That mob is going to see this escape as a confirmation of guilt.”

“I know,” Rafe said sourly. “Then my credibility is going to be questioned because of the rumor floating around the fort that suggested I was keeping her as my mistress.”

“Oh, hell, I forgot about that.” Micah scowled. “We’ll probably both get demoted because of this. We had better find Karissa and we’d better be quick about it.”

“This is all my fault.” Rafe mentally kicked himself for leaving Karissa while she was so angry and upset. Even if time had been of the essence he should have said
something! Anything
to reassure her that he trusted her, that he believed in her character and honor. But he’d been angry and upset by the entire turn of events and he hadn’t handled the situation properly.

Now he was paying for his mistake and he had alienated Karissa in the process.

Damn it to hell! He could rely on his logic and experience in all things military, but when it came to Karissa, his emotions always got tangled up. And his emotions couldn’t possibly be in more turmoil than they were at this very moment.

Micah and Rafe followed the tracks that ended in the river. Rafe’s shoulders slumped when he had to face the exasperating realization that she’d taken to the water so she couldn’t be tracked. She’d had no intention of being here when he got back. He might as well have given her
an engraved invitation to run as fast and far away as she could.

Rafe stared morosely at the river that shimmered in the sunlight. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself and annoyed that Karissa didn’t have enough faith in
him
to let him straighten out this mess. He could only hope that when she got over being furious with him and came to her senses she would contact him through her brother and sister-in-law.

“Do you think Karissa will circle back to the homestead?” Micah asked as he stared downstream.

Rafe pondered that for a moment and decided it was wishful thinking. “Considering the lengths to which she’s gone to stake a claim for Clint and Amanda, I doubt she’ll risk having them accused of harboring a fugitive. I have the uneasy feeling that in this, like all else, she’s going to bear the burden of responsibility alone.”

“Dealing with a strong, independent-minded female does have its disadvantages,” Micah commented. “Feisty as the devil. Sassy as the day is long and accustomed to fighting all her battles alone.” He glanced surreptitiously at his friend. “It takes a special kind of man to deal with a woman like Karissa.”

Affronted, Rafe jerked up his head and glared at Micah. “Are you implying that you would be better at it than I am?”

“Don’t get yourself worked up more than you already are,” Micah replied. “I’m just saying that you and Karissa have different backgrounds and you are accustomed to dealing with socialites like Vanessa Payton. As for me, I grew up scratching and clawing, just like Karissa. We have a hell of a lot in common, especially when it comes to feeling like an outcast of proper so
ciety. I’ve dealt with prejudice all my life and I think she’s had to deal with it, too. I’m telling you that it makes a person sensitive and defensive. I understand her better than you do, so you should back off and let me handle her.”

Rafe did something he had never even considered doing in his long association with Micah. He reared back, socked Micah in the jaw and left him sprawled on his backside. “You have nothing in common with her, damn it!” he shouted. “I
can
and
will
handle her!”

Micah propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his throbbing jaw. A smile quirked his lips while Rafe towered over him in thunderous frustration. “I was testing you and it’s just as I thought. You’re so crazy about Karissa that you don’t know which way is up. The very idea that
I
might be interested in her set you off like a grenade.” He stretched out his hand for assistance. “Now that we have that settled and out of the way, help me up, friend. We’ve got a disillusioned fugitive to chase down.”

Rafe stared at Micah’s extended hand then at his crafty expression. “If you wanted to know if I have feelings for her all you had to do was ask.”

Micah chuckled. “You nearly knocked my teeth down my throat because you have
feelings
for her? Face it, my friend, that doubled fist of yours packed more than
feelings.
You have recently discovered that there’s more to life than the military. And it’s about damn time, too.”

When Rafe reached out to clasp Micah’s hand, something shiny caught his eye. He helped Micah to his feet then scooped up the button that he had spotted on the riverbank. That sixth sense that he had developed after years of service to the army niggled him. It was just a
button, but it looked familiar and it could have come from Karissa’s shirt.

He opened his hand and held the button up for Micah’s inspection. Micah’s eyes widened as he plucked up the button.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Micah murmured as he stared downstream once again.

“If you’re thinking Karissa might not have left on her own accord I am,” Rafe replied. “I’m going to scout this area to see if I can find more tracks. You need to return to the fort to gather a company of men to escort Jake Horton’s prisoners to our stockade the moment it gets dark. It’s best if no one in town knows they’ve been transported until we have them secured.”

Micah nodded in understanding. “Guerilla tactics. Got it, Commander. And if you happen to find Karissa and it turns out that she broke and ran, tell her that
I
never doubted her innocence for a minute.”

Rafe glared at Micah’s teasing grin. He knew his friend was trying to ease the tension, but it didn’t help. Rafe was worried—to the extreme.

Frantic to locate Karissa, Rafe strode one direction and then the other along the river. He cursed when he came upon two settlers who had tramped in the mud to fill barrels with water. Hell and damnation, it was going to be impossible to determine which sets of footprints that led in and out of the river belonged to whom.

After an hour Rafe was forced to give up his search and ride back to town to inform Jake Horton of Karissa’s unexplained disappearance. It was going to make Rafe look like a fool for not tying up Karissa. But the label
did
fit, he reminded himself. He had bungled this situation—badly—and he had only himself to blame for it.

Rafe arrived in town, relieved to note the vigilantes were still in the saloons, drinking their fill. At least he hoped that’s where they were. If one of them had captured Karissa, the whole lot of them might have marched off to carry out their own brand of justice. Rafe quickened his step to reach Jake’s office.

Jake arched a curious brow when Rafe entered the tent. “What are you doing back here already?”

“Complications,” Rafe muttered as he took the marshal aside. “Miss Baxter wasn’t where I left her.”

“What!” Jake hooted, incredulous. “She managed to wiggle from the ropes and escape?”

Rafe shifted uncomfortably from one booted foot to the other. “Not exactly.”

Jake’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Then
how
exactly?”

“I didn’t leave her tethered to a tree because I don’t think she’s guilty of the crimes. It was a show of faith.” When Jake scowled, Rafe continued, “I don’t think she broke and ran. I think she was abducted.” He fished the button from his pocket.

Jake snorted sarcastically. “You’re basing this deduction on a damn button?”

“The more pressing question is whether Miss Baxter was captured by the mob and frog-marched off to be hanged.”

Jake shook his head. “I would have heard the ruckus if that mob had captured their suspect. But things have been reasonably quiet since you left.” He raked his hand through his hair and sighed audibly. “We’ve got ourselves a problem, Commander. Miss Baxter could have escaped or she could have been abducted and she could be in danger as we speak. We don’t have much time to find out for certain before this mob demands action. We
can’t stall indefinitely and I still have a stack of complaints on my desk to investigate. I can’t focus all my time on this one case.”