Rafe's Redemption (20 page)

She smiled. “A pple pie it is.”

“Tom and I will go hunting in the morning and get some fresh meat.”

“Mmm-mmm. I sure am glad I decided to come up here.”

Maggie nodded, but Rafe knew her mind was no longer on the conversation. She drifted back to her chair and spread the pictures over the table. Her smile lit the room. He would give anything to make her smile like that, to keep her safe and happy and never have to talk about Michael again.

Unfortunately there were still questions that had to be answered.

“Tom, what about her cousin. Did he leave town?” Maggie’s head shot up.

“Yep. He left on the stage the day after you and Miss Maggie left town. Said he was goin’ to San Fransisky to settle some business. But you be on your guard, son. I overheard him say once he finished there, he was comin’

back to finish his business here.”

A cold burn started in Rafe’s gut. Michael meant Maggie. He might be delayed, but he wasn’t done. He wanted her dead just like her father.

“A nd, son.” Tom pointed a finger at him, “Skinner Joe told him he’d help find you and her.” Rafe nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll be gone by then.” He glanced at Maggie and forced himself to ignore her frown. “We’re leaving for Fort Craig in a couple of days.”

****

With Tom on the pallet, Rafe eased into bed, trying not to wake Maggie. He didn’t want to talk tonight, didn’t want to answer the hundreds of questions he knew she’d have. Didn’t want to argue about leaving.

He stretched out next to her and laid his head on the pillow.

Her eyes popped open.

“I thought you were asleep.” Hoped. But then he’d never had much luck.

“No.” She curled against his body; not touching but close enough her breath tickled his jaw.

He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. Even though he wasn’t in the mood for questions, her silence worried him. Maggie was never quiet. Unless…

“A re you mad at me?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Because I made you hide?”

“No.” She rose to look at him. “I’m mad at myself.

What happened is my fault. Michael, Skinner Joe, the major, they’re all because of me. Because you helped me.

Now they’re after you.”

Her voice cracked as if on the verge of tears. Damn, she wasn’t to blame for any of this mess.

“Maggie, every man has enemies.” He tilted her chin so she had to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I had enemies before I met you. I’m sure I’ll make more.” He entwined their fingers and tucked their hands against his chest. “Now stop worrying and go to sleep.” They lay nose to nose, and he watched her gnaw her lip until it was beet red. Hell, she was thinking again, thinking of questions, piecing information together. Why couldn’t she just let this go?

“It’s about that man the major mentioned. Peters, or Phillips…”

Rafe heaved a long sigh. “Pierson.” Might as well tell her. She wouldn’t give up until he did.

“Yes. That’s it.” Her gaze narrowed. “Why is he looking for you?”

Rafe hedged. “He blames me for something that happened during the war.”

“What?”

The fact that he even considered telling her the truth, made him wonder if he’d lost too much blood this afternoon. What if he confessed? What would she say? If he told her about being hunted, would she understand he left St. Louis to draw Simon away, or would she think him a coward?

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t take the chance she would think less of him. Couldn’t stand if she looked at him the way Pearl had. He wanted Maggie to look at him the way she did now. With respect and desire.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, apparently it is, if you mean to stick me in a tunnel every time you hear a noise.”

He frowned. Hell, it wasn’t that bad. Protecting her came second nature. Simon or no, there were plenty of evil men around.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” He rolled to his back, needing space, unwilling to see her hurt expression. If he wasn’t careful, she’d convince him to tell her everything.

“I’m just overly cautious.”

She propped her elbow onto his chest and looked at him, her eyes narrowed again. It was too much to hope she intended to stop questioning and start kissing.

“Not cautious. You’re just too damn stubborn to let anyone help you.”

“Maggie, don’t do this.”

“No, Rafe. You know everything about me.

Everything!” She glanced to where Tom snored on the rug, then lowered her voice. “Even intimate things. Good God, I don’t even know how old you are.”

“Twenty-nine.”

Her eyes widened in mock horror. “Shh. We wouldn’t want that to get out.”

He frowned. “You know things about me.” Just not much.

“What?”

“You know I lived in St. Louis.”

“Which you won’t talk about.”

“You know I was a captain during the war.”

“Which you won’t talk about.”

“Damn it, Maggie.”

“Yes, Rafe. Damn it.” She turned her back and yanked all the blankets to her side of the bed.

By God, she wasn’t getting the last word.

He leaned over her shoulder and brushed her hair aside. “If Tom wasn’t here, I’d kiss you until you liked me again.” He traced her ear with his tongue.

Her shiver shook the bed.

“If Tom wasn’t here…” She gave him a heavy-lidded gaze. “I’d let you.”

He groaned and fell onto his back, erotic images skating through his mind.

Damn if she didn’t get the last word.

****

Late the next morning, Maggie pulled the bread from the embers and set it to cool beside the bowl of sugared apples. The potatoes were boiling, and so was her temper. Their Thanksgiving meal was going to be late, and it was Rafe’s fault. Him and his damned secrets. She hadn’t slept five minutes last night, tossing side to side, punching her pillow. She should have punched him. He had sprawled beside her all night, snoring, relaxed as a hound dog in the sunshine. This morning he looked calm and rested, while she had nearly scared herself in the mirror.

“Smells good.” Rafe leaned against the table and sniffed his appreciation. Like a little boy he scooped his fingers into the sweet pie filling and licked them clean, grinning unapologetically. If he thought he could charm her out of being angry, he thought wrong.

“Stop that.” She slid the mixture out of his reach.

“There won’t be enough for pie.”

“But I’m in the mood for something sweet.” He gave her a devilish grin.

“If you mean something besides the apples, then you’re in the wrong place,” she sassed under her breath.

“You best back off, son. Women don’t like men hoverin’ in their kitchen.” Tom smiled over the rim of his coffee. “You’ll get her all riled.”

“Maggie’s always riled.” Rafe chuckled, then stole a carrot before she could stop him. “But I’ve got chores to do anyway.” He eased his coat over his sore arm.

“Here, let me finish my coffee and I’ll help you.” Tom swigged a large mouthful. “You’re still hurt.”

“No, I’m fine. Stay and keep Maggie company.” Rafe opened the door. “I won’t be long.”

Maggie watched him leave, watched him tramp through the snow to the barn, torn between following him to beat him senseless, or following to kiss him until he surrendered.

“He looks at you the same way.” Tom’s voice snapped her gaze from the window.

“What?” God, was she so transparent?

He chuckled. “Rafe’s all calf-eyed and slack-jawed when you don’t know he’s watching.”

She scoffed. If he looked like that it was because of lust, nothing else.

“I’m telling the truth,” Tom insisted. “I know love when I see it.”

Her hand froze mid-chop. “Love! I—we—we fight all the time. He makes me mad enough to spit.”

“Baahh.” Tom waved a dismissive hand. “Me and my Martha used to bicker every day. Keeps things excitin’.

Sometimes we’d fight on purpose.” He winked. “Takes a strong woman to keep a man like me—or Rafe—in line.” A smile crossed his wrinkled face. “Martha’s spunk was one of the things I loved best about her.” Hmm. That was news to her. “I thought men disliked opinionated women.” Didn’t Rafe repeatedly tell her to stop arguing?

“Naw. No man in his right mind wants a simpering fool. Why, if you was like that, you’d be no better than that fiancée of his in St. Louis.”

“Fiancée!” The knife clattered from her hand, strewing vegetables across the table. What was Tom talking about? A ll the time she and Rafe had kissed…and he had touched her…

Breakfast crawled up her throat. “He has a fiancée?” She clamped her lips shut to stop the retch.

“A w, no. He ain’t engaged no more. He ain’t that kind of man.”

Good God, her heart had nearly stopped. She swallowed hard, then dragged the rocker next to Tom’s chair and dropped into it before she dropped to the floor.

“Tell me. Everything. Everything you know. What happened to him?”

Tom squinted and scratched his head. “Well, Rafe rode into Cougar Creek ‘bout a year ago, hungry and half froze. He didn’t want to put up at the saloon, so I let him stay with me for awhile.”

“A ll right, go on.” Maggie perched on the edge of the chair.

“Naw. I don’t know, girl. I’m not sure I feel right talkin’ outta turn. Why don’t you ask him the rest?”

“I have asked him! He won’t tell me. How can I help him if I don’t understand the problem?” She grabbed Tom’s hand. “Please.”

Tom sighed. “Fine. But only ‘cause I know you care about him. A nd don’t dare tell him I told you.” He leaned forward and whispered, “His gal deserted him soon as he got back from the war.”

Jealousy and pity spun like a tornado in her gut.

“Why?”

“His parents had just disowned him. Put him out with nothing.” Tom shook his head. “I reckon she didn’t want to live without life’s fineries.”

The breath caught in Maggie’s throat. “Why did they disown him?”

“Now that I don’t know.” Tom leaned back and sipped his coffee. “He just told me when he wasn’t welcome at home, he went and told that gal he was moving west. She wouldn’t come with him though.” Maggie chewed her bottom lip between her teeth.

That explained his rude assumption the first time they met. It also explained why he didn’t trust anyone. But…

“Did Rafe ever mention a man named Pierson?” Tom shrugged. “Not that I recall.”

“He blames Rafe for something that happened during the war. I think he’s after Rafe, to kill him. When you walked up yesterday, he made me hide.” She glanced at the larder. “He’s got a secret tunnel…”

“A w, that tunnel was there before Rafe. This place used to belong to my cousin, Honest Pete.” Tom tapped his grizzled cheek. “Truth be known though, he weren’t so honest. Plenty of people wanted him dead. So he dug the tunnel.”

“Oh.” But that didn’t change the fact that Rafe was prepared to use it as an escape. “But why would Rafe run if he didn’t do anything wrong?”

Tom shook his head. “He ain’t no coward if’n that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“I know that!” He’d risked his life too many times to save her.

“I think he just can’t stand anymore killin’.

Sometimes a man sees too much, has to do things he barely stomach. War would be one of them things. I think Rafe would rather walk away than kill. Kinda makes me wonder if the shame ain’t got somethin’ to do with his family disownin’ him. If a man feels he got no one behind him, there ain’t no reason to take a stand.” She nodded. “Maybe.” He’d admitted to carrying guilt for too long.

“You ain’t gonna leave him, too, now, are you?” Tom’s brows knitted. “I wouldn’t have told you if I thought that. Money ain’t everything, and war is war.

Men do what they have to.”

“I know. But I do have to return to St. Louis to settle some things. You know that.”

“Don’t mean you got to stay there.”

“Well, I…” Didn’t it? She had so many plans. “I want to sell my art, show it in galleries.”

“A nd you should. But I hear they’ll be a railway stretchin’ clear across this country pretty soon. Make goin’

anywhere a body wants real easy.”

Maybe it would. But a person would need to know where they wanted to be first. Maggie thought she knew, but now…

She shook her head, more confused than she had ever felt.

“Don’t give up on him.” Tom touched her hand.

“But he’s so stubborn,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight with unshed emotion. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to…”

“To what?”

“To be the kind of woman he needs.” Or if she even wanted to be his woman. That would mean staying here, forgetting her art. Rafe had already made it clear he wouldn’t live in St. Louis. Of course…the transcontinental railway was well under construction.

“A ll he needs is someone to love him. To stand behind him when life gets rough. That’s what bein’

married is about.”

“But I don’t want to get married!” Maggie jumped to her feet and paced to the fireplace.

“Why not?” The kindness in his voice loosened her tongue.

“I want to be free to make my own decisions.” Tom snorted. “Who says you wouldn’t?”

“My mother never got to.”

“Well, Martha never did one damn thing I told her—

beggin’ your pardon for cursin’. But it’s true. She was the most headstrong woman I ever knowed.” He climbed to his feet. “She woulda took right to you. You remind me of her.” A smile crinkled his face. “A nd if you won’t tell a livin’ soul, I’ll tell you a secret.”