Carol Finch (18 page)

Rafe understood completely. He was going to have to divide his time between his duties at the fort and his own investigation. But he was definitely going to probe into this case and determine if Karissa had been set up to take the fall.

Hurriedly, Rafe presented Karissa’s side of the story to Jake, then said insistently, “I need a description of the two supposed witnesses. This case seems a little too open and shut, considering Miss Baxter’s previous conflicts with Arliss Frazier and Chester Gentry. I witnessed, firsthand, Chester’s illegal attempt to steal her claim. I intervened when Chester tried to shoot her. I also broke up an argument between her and Arliss. I’m inclined to believe there is more to this case than meets the eye.”

Jake stared at him for a long pensive moment then nodded agreeably. “The two men who allegedly witnessed the shootings are Chester Gentry and Delmer Cravens. If you’ve encountered Chester then you’ll recall that he’s a thin, wiry man who stands about five feet nine inches. Last time I saw him he was wearing a floppy-brimmed straw hat, brown breeches and a long-tailed brown jacket.”

“I remember him well,” Rafe said.

“Delmer Cravens is short and stocky and he was dressed in black clothing and a black high-crowned hat. He had two pistols riding low on his hips and he’s missing a front tooth. Granted, neither of them look like your model citizens, but they relayed the same story, even when I questioned them separately.”

“Which means they could have gotten their state
ments down pat before they approached you,” Rafe commented.

Well, it didn’t matter how well those scoundrels had rehearsed—Rafe was going to get to the bottom of this. But he had to find Karissa first. She could be in grave danger—or worse. The dismal thought prompted Rafe to pivot on his heel.

“Once the prisoners are moved to the fort, I’ll see if I can track down the two witnesses for you,” Jake offered. “But like I said, I have more complaints to process than I can shake a stick at. And if we don’t resolve this case and locate Miss Baxter, both of our reputations are going to suffer. Find that female and find her fast—for her own good…and ours.”

Nodding resolutely, Rafe exited the tent and mounted Sergeant. He kept his steed at a walk until he reached the edge of town. With a sense of urgency and frustration that tempted him to pull out his hair and curse a couple of blue streaks, Rafe hightailed it back to the fort.

His imagination was running wild, picturing Karissa captured, molested and…Rafe gritted his teeth and gouged Sergeant in the flanks. Karissa better not have gotten herself killed. He hadn’t apologized for not showing absolute faith in her—or told her what she meant to him.

Worrying about the woman was making him crazy. She’d always made him crazy, but he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. Micah was right. What he felt was more than sexual attraction. It didn’t matter that they didn’t travel in the same social circles. Hell, there weren’t any social circles in this newly formed territory, so what difference did that make?

None whatsoever because none of that mattered, Rafe reminded himself. He cared about Karissa. She appealed
to the wild and reckless side of his nature that he’d buried deep inside while he had advanced rapidly through the military ranks. He had become disciplined and methodical. She, on the other hand, was fiery and impulsive. Always would be, he predicted.

A rueful smile pursed his lips as he thundered toward the garrison. Wasn’t it ironic that a man never realized what was truly important to him, what made him happy, until he lost it? Even if Karissa refused to speak to him again, he’d settle for knowing that she was alive. And somehow he was going to clear her name of these trumped-up charges.

Karissa awoke from what felt like a decade-long nap. The throbbing pain in her skull prevented her from noticing she had been bound—until she tried to move. A moment later it dawned on her that she had also been blindfolded. She had no idea where she was. All she could remember was walking into the river to cleanse herself—clothes and all—after being chained to the foul-smelling prisoners for more than twenty-four hours and crying her eyes out after seeing that shadow of doubt in Rafe’s silvery eyes.

Then, after she had waded into the river to slop water on her face and try to reassemble her shattered composure, she had headed to shore. Caught totally unawares, she had been yanked backward and shoved underwater before she could catch her breath. The next thing she knew, pain was exploding through her skull and she had asked herself why she should keep fighting to survive when she was wanted for a double murder and robbery.

That was the last thing she remembered before the world turned black and she lost consciousness.

Now she was bound up like a roll of barbed wire and
lying who knew where. The smell of dirt was the only scent that penetrated her senses. The way her luck had been going, she’d probably been buried alive and left to await a hanging.

She tensed when she heard approaching footsteps then felt a presence hovering over her. “What do you expect to accomplish?” she spat. “Who are you?”

Oh damn, there went that mouth again, she realized a moment too late. The curse of her life was that she had never learned when to shut up.

Karissa gulped instinctively when water trickled on her lips. Her captor said not one word, just continued to dribble water on her face and into her mouth. A few moments later she realized the water had a strange aftertaste and that she’d ingested something unrecognizable. Poison?

That was Karissa’s last coherent thought before a feeling of lethargy overcame her. Poison or sedative, she couldn’t be sure, but it deprived her of her will to fight its effects. She heard a quiet chuckle whispering to her, as if it was gliding through a long, winding tunnel.

And then there was nothing but dark silence.

It was almost dark when Rafe skidded his horse to a halt in front of his office and inwardly groaned when Vanessa appeared on the covered porch. Obviously she had been waiting for him to return. There was a gloating smile on her lips, he noticed. Rafe had the unshakable feeling that she had heard about Karissa’s arrest and was exceptionally pleased with the news.

“I heard about Miss Baxter,” she said, without preamble, when he joined her on the porch. “I think it would be best for your reputation if you disassociated yourself with that—” she wrinkled her nose distastefully
and shuddered “—that
woman.
To save you from public and professional disgrace, we should forge ahead with our wedding arrangements. My father and yours have clout in the military. They will have no trouble getting you reassigned back East, away from the humiliating gossip.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rafe said as he surged into his office. “I have responsibilities here. Some of them are extremely pressing. So if you’ll excuse me, Vanessa, I have a lot to do.”

Behind him, Vanessa stamped her foot to gain his attention. “I have been overly patient and incredibly tolerant of your indiscretions for two weeks!” she erupted indignantly. “Have you no respect for
my
feelings in all this? If nothing else, you should be begging me to marry you to compensate for the humiliation I have suffered. When you ride out of here after dark, I know perfectly well you are going to see that trollop. Well, I think you should realize by now that she is nothing but trouble. Worse, she’s a murderer!”

Rafe wheeled on her so quickly that she backed up a step. Well, so much for the dignified debutante who had been teeming with sophisticated charm and engaging smiles since her unexpected arrival. Rafe was beginning to think Vanessa’s true character had come pouring out. Worse, she was trying to twist the situation to her advantage—all the while claiming that she was trying to protect
his
reputation, as well as hers.

“You are deluding yourself if you think we’ll be married now or six months from now. Do yourself a favor and climb aboard the stage. You don’t belong out here.”

“Neither do you!” she railed at him. “Your family name can open any door you please and yet you seem determined to prove some point by taking this assign
ment in the middle of nowhere.” She flung her arms expansively and the jewels at her wrists winked in the lantern light. “I’m willing to admit that I can partially understand why you were drawn to that devious trollop. Heavens, it’s not as if there are women of quality in this area to associate with.”

Now she was
excusing
his supposed slumming? Was this yet another tactic to coerce him into a wedding? “But of course, what else was I to do when basic urges overwhelmed me, correct?” he said, and smirked.

“Exactly.” Vanessa inclined her head regally, as if to wipe his transgression off the slate. “And now that you realize how treacherous and dangerous that woman is, you must also realize that
like
should commit itself to
like
in life.”

She favored Rafe with an overly sweet smile. “You and I are very much alike, Rafe. This is what our parents have arranged. This is what is best for both of us. And I must say that I’m tired of being the only one who is trying to do the right thing and honor our obligations.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Micah said as he hurried into the office, not looking or sounding the least bit sorry. “Commander, we have a situation that demands immediate attention.” He offered Vanessa a halfhearted bow. “You’ll have to excuse us.”

“Go home,” Rafe said to Vanessa. “The next stage heading east will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Whether you realize it yet or not, you need me.” She picked up her trailing skirts and flounced from the office.

“Sure am sorry to see her go,” Micah said, his tone nowhere near apologetic.

Rafe half collapsed in his chair and huffed out a
weary breath. “Can this day get any worse?” he muttered.

Micah braced his hands on the desk to meet Rafe face to face. “As a matter of fact, it can. Lieutenant Johnson informed me a few minutes ago that one of our men was found dead.”

“Cause of death?” Rafe asked bleakly.

“Shot in the face,” Micah reported. “His emptied pockets were left inside out.”

Rafe braced his elbows on the desk. “Where was he found?”

“Floating in the river about an hour ago. The patrol noticed him when they stopped to water their horses.”

“Who was it?” Rafe asked somberly.

Micah straightened then blew out a frustrated breath. “Corporal Harlan Billings. He was beaten, shot and robbed. His identification was all that was left behind.”

R
afe’s fist hit the desk. “Damn it to hell!”

“You don’t think Karissa was so angry and desperate, not to mention vindictive toward Harlan, after he tried to take advantage of her in your quarters, that she—?”

“No!” Rafe practically bellowed in denial as he bounded to his feet then veered around his desk. “Everything that has happened around here the past few days seems as choreographed as a theatrical production.”

“Well, I don’t know about that since I’ve never actually seen one, but I’ll admit that this path of destruction seems to fall neatly into place,” Micah mused aloud, while Rafe paced from wall to wall. “Someone has gone to great lengths to see that Karissa is blamed for every crime committed the past few days. A few days ago Karissa confided in me that Vanessa wasn’t what she seemed. She was afraid that if you married Vanessa you would regret it when the unpleasant side of her personality came pouring out.”

Micah glanced pointedly at Rafe. “
Who
has something to gain from Karissa taking the heat?
Who
has seen her fair share of plays and theatrical productions back
East? Gee, let me guess.” He struck an effeminate pose and batted his eyes coyly. “Your ex-fiancée perhaps?”

“The thought already crossed my mind,” Rafe muttered as he reversed direction and paced west to east. “But how could Vanessa make contact with Arliss Frazier or his henchman?
Why
would she? I don’t think she’s left the garrison but a few times. And always in the company of officers’ wives.” He frowned then amended, “At least to my knowledge. But then I haven’t kept close track of Vanessa since she arrived.”

Rafe wheeled toward the door. “While you are discreetly transferring Jake’s prisoners to the stockade, I want to take a closer look at the pistol found in Karissa’s saddlebags and interrogate the two witnesses. We also need to send out a search party to track down Karissa. We can’t afford to let the trail get cold. Damn,” Rafe muttered. “I would like to be in three places at once right now.”

“I’ll organize the search party before I retrieve Jake’s prisoners,” Micah volunteered. “I’ll start the patrol tracking from the spot you left Karissa by the river.”

“The trail was contaminated by settlers prancing into the water to fill their barrels,” Rafe reported sourly. “But if someone did abduct Karissa then we can’t make it easy for him to transport her. We need a patrol breathing down his neck. Tell Lieutenant Johnson that Karissa was kidnapped.”

Micah snorted. “Everyone around this fort knows she was being held prisoner for the crime. How am I supposed to explain how—?”

Rafe silenced him with a slashing gesture of his arm. “Make up something, damn it. You managed to bore that vigilante mob to death by spewing army regulations. I don’t care what you tell the lieutenant, other than that
Karissa’s life is in danger and we believe she’s being used as a pawn.”

“Got it. I’ll think of something,” Micah replied as he followed Rafe out the door.

“The ropes!” Rafe burst out suddenly.

“What ropes?” Micah demanded, bemused.

“I cut Karissa’s hands loose when we reached the river,” Rafe said quickly. “I was trying to reassure her that I trusted her,
after
I had made the critical mistake of questioning her version of the story. The frayed ropes were still dangling from her wrists. Why wouldn’t she untie them and cast them aside?”

“Because someone overpowered her and used the rope to manacle her hands,” Micah guessed as he veered around Rafe. “I’ll go form the search party and tell them to look for two discarded lengths of rope. That should tell us whether she was abducted or left on her own accord.”

“I’m betting she didn’t have time to remove them before someone pounced on her.”

Rafe climbed back on his horse and reined toward the gate. He glanced up to see Vanessa hovering beside the window in her upstairs quarters. If he thought for one minute that she was capable of machinating these trumped-up charges against Karissa, he would introduce her to the strong-arm tactics he had occasionally used as last resorts to wheedle information. He was beginning to think Vanessa was capable of many things—deception and pretense to name only two—but he didn’t perceive her as being capable of murder.

Rafe met Vanessa’s gaze—grimly—from a distance. She was going to be very sorry indeed if it turned out that Rafe was wrong about her.

Karissa regained consciousness and decided that she had been sedated rather than poisoned. She was being kept alive for some reason. That was good. But she doubted she would enjoy a long-term existence. That was bad.

When the fog in her brain cleared up, she realized she was being jostled about and transported in the back of a wagon. She could smell the mildewed tarp that was draped over her and hear the creak and clatter of wheels and the jangle of harnesses.

While she had been unconscious, her unidentified captor had stuffed a gag in her mouth to keep her quiet. Although her hands and feet were tied together, she wiggled and squirmed to dislodge whatever objects were stacked beside her legs. She heard a dull thud that indicated something had fallen from the wagon bed. When the driver didn’t stop, she nudged another object toward the edge of the bed.

If nothing else, Karissa vowed to have the satisfaction of disposing of whatever supplies her captor was hauling. It wasn’t precisely a trail of flags and banners that pointed a rescuer in her direction, but Karissa had learned to be resourceful and inventive.

While she was being secretly hauled away from wherever she had been stashed for safekeeping, she wondered if Rafe would bother looking for her. Of course, he would assume the worst about her. He would presume that she had escaped and he would see the act as a confirmation of guilt.

When tears filled her eyes, she determinedly blinked them back. She didn’t have time to dwell on the emotion she’d wasted on Rafe Hunter. She had vowed already that she was never going to speak to him again. Her immediate concern was finding a way to escape her cap
tor—and it wasn’t going to be easy when she didn’t have a weapon of defense. All she had was her wits—which were still suffering the aftereffects of the sedative.

Come on, Rissa, pay attention here,
she chided herself.

She nudged another object off the back of the wagon and waited to see if the driver had noticed. Squirming sideways, now that she had more room to move, she inched across the wagon bed. If she could roll away, there was a chance her captor wouldn’t notice she had dropped to the ground until long after she was gone.

Karissa hit the ground with a thud and bit back a pained shriek when she landed on her shoulder and hip. The smelly tarp remained on the wagon and she drew in a refreshing breath of cool evening air. She rolled to her knees then plunked down on her backside. She still had no idea where she was, but she wasn’t going to risk sitting here until her captor realized she wasn’t in the wagon.

Sinking back to the ground, Karissa rolled sideways, grimacing each time a rock or the sharp blades of weeds poked into her skin. When she paused to catch her breath, she rubbed her face against the ground until she had worked the blindfold over her head. She looked around, trying to orient herself to her surroundings, but nothing looked familiar in the darkness.

Wherever she was, she needed to put more distance between herself and the silhouette of the wagon that was rumbling southward. She chose a path perpendicular to the boxes and sacks that she had strung behind her, hoping to take cover before her captor came looking for her.

When Rafe reached Reno City, he was relieved to see the mob hadn’t regathered and that the likeness of a red-
haired female wasn’t being burned in effigy. Although dozens of wagons and horses lined the main street, most members of the rowdy crowd were in the saloons and dance halls that took up more space in the boomtown than respectable businesses.

Rafe made a beeline for the marshal’s tent and found a weary-looking Jake draped in his chair, squinting in the lantern light to study the papers on his desk.

“You’re wearing a path from town to the fort,” Jake remarked as he rubbed his eyes. “Bother to eat?”

Rafe shook his head. “Couldn’t spare the time.”

“Me either. I did send a kid to one of the restaurants to fetch some food. You can share it with me when he returns.”

As if on cue, a young, mop-headed boy ducked beneath the tent flap. Rafe smiled gratefully when Jake handed him a slice of fresh bread and a slab of beef. He hadn’t realized he was famished until the first bite. He wondered if Karissa’s captor was offering her nourishment. Probably not. Keeping captives weak from starvation was an easy way to control them. Rafe felt guilty for devouring the meal when he knew Karissa wasn’t enjoying the same comforts.

“I would like to have a look at the evidence in the murder cases,” Rafe said abruptly.

Jake twisted sideways to open the trunk that sat beside his makeshift desk. “Here you go. Looking for something in particular?”

“No, just some hint of a clue, something that might lead me to Karissa,” Rafe murmured as he unfastened the buckle on the saddlebag.

While Jake peered over his shoulder and munched on his meal, Rafe withdrew the pistol and checked the cylinder.

“Four shots were fired,” Jake informed him. “Which matches the number of bullet holes in the victims.”

“Would you leave the weapon, just as it was, if you had committed the dastardly crime?” Rafe asked as he dropped the two remaining bullets in his palm.

Jake frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “No, that would be pretty obvious.”

“Sure would. I’d reload the pistol.” Rafe tossed the marshal a meaningful glance. “I probably wouldn’t leave the weapon in plain sight, either, not until the hubbub died down.”

Jake rolled his stiff shoulders. “Okay, what else have you got in your efforts to prove Miss Baxter’s innocence?”

Rafe fished into the leather bag to retrieve the cloth coin purse. When he dumped the contents on the table, a frown clouded his brow. Several shiny silver dollars stared back at him. He bent down to take a closer look.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked curiously.

Rafe picked up one of the coins and held it up to the lantern. “These look like the coins the paymaster passed out last week at the fort. The army always pays in cash.”

True, he had given Karissa a handful of silver dollars before the Run, but he knew she’d spent what he’d given her to purchase supplies in town and pay the fee to register her claim. So where had the shiny coins come from? The small roll of bank notes could have been stolen from Arliss or Sam, but the shiny silver dollars drew Rafe’s suspicion.

“Mind if I take two of these with me to match them with some of my men’s at the garrison?” Rafe requested.

“Be my guest, Commander. Oh, and I did manage to track down one of the witnesses. Last time I checked,
Delmer Cravens was bellied up to the bar at the Pink Elephant Saloon. He said he hasn’t seen Chester Gentry all day.”

Rafe tucked the coins in his pocket then stuffed the evidence in the saddlebag. “Did Delmer or Chester identify the pistol?”

Jake nodded tiredly. “Said it belonged to Arliss Frazier. Knew it because they had seen it in his possession several times.”

Rafe snorted. “And they expect us to believe that a pint-size female wrestled that overweight male to the ground, while fending off Sam, then turned the pistol on both men? Sorry, Jake, but the more I hear about this crime the less believable it sounds.”

“You’re right, Commander,” Jake admitted. “In my haste to wrap up one case and get on to the next I think I might have asked the wrong individuals the wrong questions. But then, I don’t think I have the same vested interest in solving this case that you do. Sure hope she’s worth all the time and effort you’re putting into this investigation.”

“She is,” Rafe confirmed as he pivoted on his heel to track down Delmer Cravens.

Rafe hurried across the street then walked into the smoke-filled saloon. He surveyed the men who leaned leisurely against the planked bar. Relying on Jake’s description, it didn’t take long to single out the pudgy man who had worked for Arliss Frazier. Without preamble Rafe walked up to grab the man by the nape of his shirt.

“I want to talk privately with you, Delmer,” he demanded authoritatively.

“Hey, git yer hands off me,” Delmer said in a slurred voice. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

Despite the drunken objection, Rafe towed the man
outside and shoved him against the hitching post. “You gave false witness to that double murder,” he accused gruffly. “I want to know who’s responsible for setting up the Baxter woman.”

The man’s eyes flared momentarily before a shuttered expression crossed his whiskered face. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I saw what I saw. Told the marshal, too.”

Rafe wasn’t wasting another minute with the scraggly cretin. “Where’s your horse? You’re coming to the fort for more questioning.”

Although Delmer set his feet, Rafe uprooted him from the spot and frog-marched him across the street. “I can drag you behind my horse or you can ride your own mount. Your choice, Delmer, but you’re coming with me.”

When Delmer tried to break and run, Rafe hauled him backward, hooked an arm around his neck and applied pressure to his throat. “That’s my horse,” Delmer choked out as he gestured to the black gelding. “But I’m not tellin’ ya nothin’ different.”

“Why not? Afraid someone might leave you in the same shape as Arliss and Sam?” Rafe muttered as he shoved Delmer toward his horse then grabbed the reins. “What happened to Chester? Is he the one who helped you plan this setup?”

Alarm registered on Delmer’s face as he settled in the saddle, but he thrust out his square chin and glared down at Rafe. “I toldja I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about nothin’.”

Rafe led Delmer toward the hitching post where he had tethered Sergeant. With practiced ease he swung into the saddle then headed out of town. “As of right now you and Chester Gentry are the prime suspects in
the murders,” Rafe insisted. “You will be held for questioning while I round up Chester.”