Carol Finch (19 page)

“I didn’t do it!” Delmer muttered.

“So you’re saying Chester did the crime and got you to corroborate the story he fed the marshal?”

“I dunno what corroborate means, but if you’re sayin’ he talked me into givin’ my statement, then the answer’s no. I dunno know where Chester went, either. He was supposed to meet me in town for supper, but he never showed up.”

Chester Gentry, the ruffian who had originally tried to steal Karissa’s claim, was looking more like the guilty party by the minute, Rafe mused as he thundered toward the fort. When he spotted the search brigade carrying torches, he halted to wait for the lieutenant to join him.

“Any sign of Miss Baxter?” Rafe asked anxiously.

Lieutenant Johnson reined to a stop. “No, sir. We came across several sets of tracks on the riverbank, but we encountered no one except the settlers replenishing their water supplies.”

“What’s that over there?” one of the soldiers questioned as he held his torch higher in the air.

Rafe twisted in the saddle to determine what had caught the man’s attention. He frowned, befuddled, when he recognized the wooden box that had U.S. Army stamped on it. Taking the lieutenant’s torch, Rafe trotted forward for a better look. In the flickering light he noticed the imprints in the grass that indicated a wagon had recently crossed the area, headed south.

“Lieutenant, please detain this witness at the fort until I return. I’ll see if I can find out why a box of flour from our mess hall has been dumped out here. We never send out a wagonload of supplies to Fort Sill after dark.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, giving his superior a quick salute.

“When Captain Whitfield returns with the prisoners to hold in our stockade, tell him what we have found and ask him to come join me.”

As the entourage trotted off, taking Delmer Cravens with them, Rafe walked his horse forward. He’d only gone fifty yards before he spotted a sack of cornmeal, compliments of the army, lying on the ground. The sack sat directly between the tracks from the wagon wheels.

Anticipation sizzled through him when he realized that someone might have purposely left a trail to follow. Considering Karissa’s resourcefulness, she could have been the one pushing objects from the wagon. Hope swelled inside Rafe as he nudged Sergeant into a faster clip.

He raced forward, noting the broken crate of canned peaches and tomatoes. Someone had obviously confiscated a wagon from the fort and stolen the goods from the mess hall, while most of the soldiers were on patrol or off duty. What Karissa was doing in the back of the wagon—at least he prayed it was Karissa—he didn’t know, but if her unconventional trail markings led him to her, Rafe didn’t care if a month’s supply of army rations ended up on the prairie.

Karissa tensed when she heard the rumble of a wagon and the pounding of hooves. Damn it! Her captor had realized she was gone and had doubled back to locate her. She searched around wildly, trying to figure out where she could hide. She’d been rolling across the prairie, but it was at least a hundred yards to the tree-lined creek. If she could make it to cover before her captor
arrived, she might have a sporting chance of avoiding his notice.

Teeth clamped into the gag in her mouth, Karissa rolled across the ground. She muttered a curse when she saw the wagon speeding toward her. She wasn’t going to make it to cover. Although there wasn’t a full moon blazing in the sky, there was far too much light to conceal her if the wagon rolled right past her.

She couldn’t wriggle down in the grass the way Rafe had shown her how to do as they crawled from the marshal’s tent. She was bound up like a mummy, making it impossible to stretch out her arms and legs to lie under the grass rather than on top of it.

Karissa angled her head to peer up at the dark silhouette on the wagon seat. Recognition dawned in her eyes immediately. Chester Gentry, that weasely scoundrel! She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she remembered the floppy-brimmed hat and the long jacket he’d worn every time she had encountered him. First he had tried to steal her claim, then he had framed her for murder. Now he had abducted her—for who knows what purpose!

“Damn it, you are a royal pain in the backside. This time I’ll anchor you to the wagon to make sure you don’t escape again.”

Karissa frowned, bemused. Those were Chester’s clothes and that was Chester’s hat, but that voice didn’t belong to Chester.

Her bewildered thoughts scattered and her survival instincts exploded to life when she was jerked upright. Karissa threw herself backward then lifted her bound legs and struck out like a kicking mule.

A pained wail erupted in the darkness as her attacker doubled over. Karissa struck again, aiming for the knees.
She received satisfaction in hearing another agonized howl as her assailant’s legs folded up. She might not be able to escape, but she wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.

Or so she thought. The butt of a pistol thumped against her temple and fuzzy light exploded in her eyes. A sickening sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. She found herself being dragged toward the back of the wagon by the rope that bound her ankles. It took all the energy she could muster to resist, and she was on the verge of accepting defeat—for the moment, at least—until she heard the pounding of hooves and a snarling growl in the distance.

Her head was still swimming when her captor crouched beside her and stuffed the barrel of a pistol under her chin. Through blurred eyes, she squinted at her rescuer, who held a flaming torch in one hand and a Winchester in the other.

Even if she was so mad at Rafe that she could spit nails, she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. He looked like the dark angel of vengeance, guiding his muscular steed with the touch of his knees.

If the expression on his face was any indication of his disposition he could have spit a few nails himself.

“B
ack off!” Rafe bellowed furiously.

“You are in no position to spout orders,” came the taunting reply.

“Rissa, are you all right?” Rafe questioned anxiously.

“I’d be a lot better if I could return the favor by kicking this jackass upside the head!” she shouted, even though Rafe couldn’t understand a word she said because the gag was still crammed in her mouth.

“I didn’t catch any of that,” Rafe said as he walked his horse forward, his attention focused on the man who was using Karissa as a shield of protection. “But she sounds mad as hell.” He lifted the torch, trying to get a better look at her captor’s face.

When the man finally tipped back his head, Rafe blinked in stunned amazement. “Harlan? I thought you were dead.”

Harlan snickered. “I switched identities with Chester Gentry. I decided the army life wasn’t for me.”

“Clever,” Rafe acknowledged as he nudged Sergeant sideways in hopes of getting a better shot at the murdering bastard. “So you made it difficult for us to iden
tify Chester by distorting his face with a pistol blast then dressed him in your uniform.”

“Stay where you are, Commander,” Harlan growled as he clutched Karissa tightly against his chest. “You try to shoot me and I’ll shoot her, guaran-damn-teed. Simple as that.”

“So you left Chester floating in the river in your uniform and latched onto Karissa,” Rafe prompted, trying to keep Harlan talking and biding his time until he could catch the man off guard.

“Easy enough to do,” Harlan said. “I knocked Chester unconscious after he tried to blackmail me for money. Then this little spitfire walked into the river not ten yards from where I’d exchanged clothes with Chester. With her unconscious it was no trouble to dispose of Chester, leave him in the river, and stash her in Chester’s dugout. It couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned it. At the time I was trying to figure out how to break her out of the marshal’s makeshift jail and make her look guilty as hell by escaping.”

“Why did you want to do that?” Rafe questioned. “You knew that she was serving time for your crime. What did you have against Arliss Frazier and Sam Pickens anyway?”

“I made sure Arliss could stake the property he wanted by giving him precise directions before the Run,” Harlan explained impatiently. “He refused to pay me what he owed me so I got rid of him and Sam, took most of their money and left a little cash in Karissa’s saddlebag. But it wasn’t my idea to set her up for the fall. It just worked out perfectly, and it didn’t take much of a threat to convince Chester and Delmer to feed the marshal the story I concocted.”

“You assured Chester and Delmer that they would
end up like Arliss and Sam,” Rafe assumed. “Whose idea was it to frame Karissa?”

“You figure it out, Commander,” he said, mocking Rafe’s rank. “You’re the man with the lofty position who thinks he has more brains than the rest of us peons in the army. You’ll excuse me if I’m in a hurry to be on my way. I might let your trollop live, after I take my turn with her, but if you’re breathing down my neck, I’ll find someone else to use as a shield of defense. Now back off. We’re leaving.”

“Sorry, Harlan, but you know I’m a man who believes in following the rules and regulations.” Rafe aimed his Winchester at Harlan and wished Karissa would move her red head just enough for him to get off a clear shot. “You’re under arrest for murder, robbery and kidnapping.”

“You always were an arrogant bastard,” Harlan snorted. “I’m not letting her go.”

“And I’m not letting
you
go,” Rafe assured him. “This standoff might last all night, but someone will come along eventually. I’m predicting the next passerby will side with me, not with you.”

“Like I said,” Harlan jeered. “You’re an arrogant bastard—”

Rafe hurled the torch at Harlan’s head. Harlan reflexively shrank away. When the pistol that had been pressed to Karissa’s neck swerved toward Rafe, he snapped his Winchester into position, fired off a shot then nudged Sergeant sideways.

Harlan’s bullet whizzed past Rafe’s head, taking his hat with it. In the torchlight that flickered in the dew-covered grass beside Harlan’s bloody leg, Rafe could see Karissa rolling to her back to kick her feet at Harlan’s gun hand. She didn’t dislodge the weapon, but she
made Harlan furious. Rafe stopped breathing when Harlan swung his attention, and his pistol, back to Karissa.

Hands not as steady as he would have preferred, Rafe fired off another shot. Harlan yowled in outrage as the pistol cartwheeled over his injured hand and dropped between him and Karissa.

While Rafe bounded from his horse, Karissa rolled on top of the pistol. Cursing the air blue, Harlan shoved her aside and grabbed the weapon. Rafe charged forward, swinging his rifle like a club. He knocked Harlan upside the head before he could take a shot. When Harlan slumped on the ground Rafe snatched up the fallen pistol and torch then breathed a long-suffering sigh of relief.

“Damn it, woman,” he scolded Karissa. “You practically asked him to blow your head off when you tried to kick the pistol from his hand.”

She muttered something at him in reply. Rafe decided he was glad he couldn’t translate. She still sounded mad as hell. Hesitantly, he reached down to untie her gag.

“You idiot!” she spouted off. “You all but invited Harlan to blow
your
head off before he got around to
mine!
And don’t just stand there. Untie me. I lost feeling in my arms and legs an hour ago.”

A smile pursed Rafe’s lips as he knelt to slice away the confining ropes. “You’re welcome.”

She didn’t say he was welcome. She just glowered at him as if he were the villain rather than her white knight, come to save her while she was in distress.

“What’d I miss?” came a voice from the darkness.

Rafe swiveled around on his haunches to see Micah jogging forward.

Micah took the torch Rafe extended to him and glanced down at the unconscious man. “Harlan? I thought he was dead.”

“So did everyone else,” Rafe replied as he used the rope he’d cut away from Karissa to bind up his prisoner. “I got the impression that Harlan planned to have a new life and identity with the money he had stolen from Arliss and Sam. Karissa was his hostage and the army’s supplies were to be his sustenance until he got to wherever he was going to make his new start.”

Micah lifted the torch to inspect Karissa, who sluggishly pulled herself into a sitting position. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better, but thanks for asking.” She smiled gratefully at Micah then glared daggers at Rafe again.

“A hot bath, hearty meal and a good night’s sleep should cure that,” Micah insisted as he leaned over to help her to her feet. “I was worried about you.”

Karissa brushed the grass from her breeches. “Nice to know
someone
was.” She shot Rafe a scathing look.

Micah glanced back and forth between Rafe and Karissa then grinned. “I didn’t interrupt an argument, did I?”

“No,” she said as she tested her wobbly legs. “I’m not speaking to the general for the rest of my life. Or
his
life. Whichever comes first—”

When her voice evaporated and she teetered sideways, Rafe lunged toward her. He caught her the moment before she collapsed on the ground. When her head lolled against his arm and she slumped against him, he noticed blood streaming down her cheek.

“Oh, God, she must have been hit!” he said frantically.

Micah held the torch close to her waxen face then traced his forefinger over her hairline. “King-size knot. Two of them actually,” he reported. “I think she just passed out.”

Rafe glared murderously at Harlan’s unconscious body. “After we find out who else is involved in this conspiracy against Karissa, and I don’t need Harlan’s cooperation, I’m going to take that son of a bitch apart with my bare hands for abusing her.” He brushed his lips over Karissa’s forehead as he lifted her limp body into his arms.

Micah chuckled. “Fine, you do that, but don’t expect this hellion to thank you for beating Harlan to a pulp for her. She’s never talking to you again, you recall.”

“I’m just glad she’s alive,” Rafe murmured as he stared into her expressionless face. “At least she’s going to survive so she can never speak to me.”

Carefully he settled Karissa in the wagon bed. “We’ll throw Harlan over Sergeant’s back. “No way am I going to let that slimy bastard sprawl out next to Karissa.”

“Good idea,” Micah commented. “I expect she’s spent more time with Harlan than she prefers already.” He swung onto his horse and grabbed Sergeant’s reins. “I’ll drop Harlan off at the infirmary to get patched up. Sure wouldn’t want gangrene to set in before he’s court-martialed and hanged for his crimes.”

While Micah trotted on ahead, Rafe drove the wagon at a slower pace and sent a prayer of thanks winging heavenward. At least Karissa had survived her horrendous ordeal. He’d hoped that her appreciative gratitude would negate her irritation with him. But considering how feisty and contrary she was, he supposed that really was too much to ask.

Karissa awoke to find herself in Rafe’s bed. Micah was hovering over her, holding a cool compress to her throbbing head. Although her vision was still blurry, she noticed that he smiled kindly at her. Blast it, why hadn’t
she had the good sense to fall in love with Micah rather than Rafe? Micah was ruggedly handsome, had a playful sense of humor and came from a similar background.

But no, imbecile that she was, she had lost her heart to a man who had a pedigree as long as her arm and had grown up rubbing shoulders with the socially privileged.

“Good, you’re awake,” Micah greeted her. “How’s the head?”

“It’s pounding like a drum,” Karissa mumbled as she levered herself higher on the pillow.

“Do you feel like eating? Rafe sent a tray, heaping with food.”

When he set the tray on her lap Karissa realized she was ravenous. The skimpy rations Marshal Horton served were barely enough to keep a gnat alive. And Harlan had stuffed nothing but sedatives down her throat.

“Where’s what’s-his-name?” she asked after she took a bite of the army’s version of slumgullion stew.

Micah arched a dark brow. “Who? Harlan or Rafe?”

“The latter,” she mumbled between bites.

Micah nodded. “I see. Not only are you refusing to speak
to
Rafe, but you also refuse to speak of him. I guess those two thumps on the noggin left you with amnesia. You seem to forget that he saved your life.”

She shrugged noncommittally, still mad at him for doubting her and mad at herself for caring that he had.

Micah chuckled in amusement. “You’re every bit as stubborn as Rafe says you are. In answer to your question, Rafe is interrogating Harlan. He refuses to rest until he discovers who is involved in this conspiracy against you. He’s a very dedicated officer, you know.”

Karissa knew that. The army was his life. Any interest
in a female would never be anything except second priority at best. Not that she cared anymore, of course. She intended to be over her affection for Rafe about the same time she recovered from this hellish headache.

All she wanted to do was to return to the homestead. She was
needed
there. Rafe would never need her. He had the army and all his rules and regulations to keep him company.

Karissa glanced up when the door banged against the wall. Harlan Billings—a bandage wrapped around his leg and his hand and his hair standing on end—was forcefully nudged into the room. Rafe loomed behind him, looking as vicious and threatening as she’d ever seen him. In supreme satisfaction Karissa watched Harlan wince and grimace as Rafe hustled him across the room and shoved him into the chair.

“Harlan insists that he’ll confide who was involved in this conspiracy if we reduce the punishment against him,” Rafe growled. “Micah, as second in command, you will bear witness to the statement.” He jabbed Harlan in the shoulder. “Please repeat your offer, Corporal.”

Harlan jerked up his head and glanced at Micah. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened if I can get off with a lighter sentence.”

“Statement acknowledged,” Rafe rapped out. “Captain Whitfield?”

Micah stared distastefully at the prisoner. “Acknowledged, Major Hunter.”

A gloating grin twisted Harlan’s lips. “Vanessa Payton paid me to make Karissa look bad by accosting a cripple in the settlers’ encampment and making sure she was blamed for it. Vanessa thought that, if Karissa’s reputation was further ruined, our high-and-mighty com
mander would finally cast her aside and pay more attention to his betrothed.”

Karissa would have come up off the bed and gone for Harlan’s throat if Micah hadn’t pushed her back into a prone position. “You idiot!” she railed at Harlan. “That cripple is my
brother
and you stole all the money I gave him!”

“Go on,” Rafe muttered. He was outraged that the pain, misfortune and trauma Karissa had suffered were indirectly his fault. The fact that he had been betrothed to a woman who was capable of dispensing such devious cruelty on anyone, even her rival, disgusted him. “What other instructions did Vanessa convey to you to insure Karissa was publicly disgraced and imprisoned?”

“When her first scheme didn’t produce the results she expected, she demanded that I try to frame Karissa for a more serious crime. She also wanted Karissa to escape—to make her look guilty. I was to take the rest of the money Vanessa paid me and tote Karissa as far away from the new territory as possible.”

Harlan stared mockingly at Rafe. “Your haughty fiancée was convinced that once your tramp was out of sight, a fugitive from justice, you would go through with your marriage.” He jeered impudently at Rafe. “You really can pick ’em, Commander. A white-trash whore and a treacherous socialite.”

Rafe’s fists knotted at his sides. It took all his self-discipline not to pounce on Harlan and beat him to within an inch of his life for the cruel remark that had drained what little color was left in Karissa’s face. He had thought Karissa deserved to hear Harlan’s confession, but the man was purposely insulting her.

When she recoiled in hurt and humiliation Rafe wanted to gather her in his arms and reassure her, but
he needed a complete statement so he could arrest Vanessa for her part in this diabolical conspiracy.