Rafe's Redemption (7 page)

If he couldn’t remember his damn coat, how could he stay on alert for Simon?

Hell! Rafe threw the shovel against the wall. He had to take her to Fort Union. They would have to risk riding down the mountain and pray a storm didn’t surprise them on the way. There was no choice. The war wasn’t over for him. He had one more battle.

Rafe shook the bitter memories aside. He couldn’t be distracted, not by memories or Maggie.

A ll right. That decided it. No more thinking how she felt when they kissed. How her breasts had been mashed to his chest. How her hips fit to his like tongue and groove. How he could have dropped both their britches and slid inside her tight cunt while they stood in front of the fire.

“Damn it!” He couldn’t take it. There was only one way to get her off his mind, to get relief.

Moving to the back corner, he unbuttoned his pants and fisted his cock, stroking all the way to the weeping head. Hell. He shuddered and pumped faster. It had been too long since he’d had a woman. That was all this was.

It wasn’t Maggie. It wasn’t the way she looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes. It wasn’t the way she smelled like sex every time they got close. It wasn’t the way her ass begged to be fucked. It wasn’t—

Shit, shit, shit. His orgasm hit with the force of an earthquake, making him lean against the wall or fall to the floor. Cum spurted over his knuckles like warm, creamy buttermilk, dripping onto the barn floor.

There. He heaved a long satisfied sigh. Grabbing a rag from a bucket, he cleaned himself and re-fastened his pants. Now that would end his obsession with Miss Monroe.

But it didn’t. A lready he wanted to go back to the house just to see her, to talk with her. Maybe he was lonelier than he thought. But that didn’t matter either.

Even if he controlled his desire, she couldn’t stay. With Joe’s help, Simon could be closer than ever. They would kill Rafe and take Maggie.

The sooner he was rid of her, the safer she would be. That decided it. She was leaving.

Determined, he marched to the cabin and pushed open the door.

Maggie stood shaping loaves of dough into a pan.

The warm yeasty smell filled the small room, filled his mind with stupid thoughts of “what if.” What if he could keep her safe? What if she could accept the way he lived?

What if she wanted to stay?

She shot him a narrowed glance, pulling him from any fanciful dreams.

“Bake an extra loaf for tomorrow,” he ordered.

She turned, hand on her hip. Her very full hip.

“Why?”

He grabbed his coat and was halfway out the door before he answered. “We’re leaving for Fort Union at first light.”

Chapter Three

The morning dawned as cold as Rafe’s expression.

He frowned as if she’d been deciding what to wear instead of frying some salt pork for the trip. Well, he could grumble all he wanted. It couldn’t ruin her day.

She was headed home; that should make him happy, too.

Instead, as they surveyed each other, his frown deepened until his eyebrows met in one ominous line.

“‘Bout time.”

She let the smile slide from her face. Irritable, insufferable man.

He shooed Wolf into the barn through a dog-sized door, then blasted a frosty breath into his reddened hands. Moses stomped and huffed a white cloud into the pink-tinged sky, demanding attention. Impatient as his owner.

Maggie shivered, then waded through the knee-deep snow until she reached the horse. She ignored the scowling man checking the bridle and tucked her burlap sack of borrowed clothes into the saddlebag beside her art satchel.

Rafe glared at her across the saddle. “Ready now?” The thought of another bumpy trip astride the gelding made her back twinge with regret, but riding was the only transportation. “Whenever you are.”

“I was ready a half hour ago,” Rafe muttered, swinging into the seat.

“You said first light,” she countered, unable to stop herself. “It was still dark then.”

His brows dipped again. “Well, I could see just fine.” She ignored his petulant tone and his outstretched hand. “Wonderful. Next time I’ll remember when you say dawn, you mean dark.”

He snorted. “Lady, God willin’, there won’t be a next time. By tonight, you’ll be in a hotel, and I’ll be headed back here.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Now, give me your hand, so we can leave.”

Maggie glanced to the barn, not eager to feel her body pressed against his after their kiss and his rude dismissal.

“Why can’t I ride the mule? There are no supplies this time.”

Rafe expelled a long sigh, dropped his hand and slumped in the saddle.

“First,” he held up one finger, “I don’t own two saddles. Can you ride bareback? No, I didn’t think so,” he answered before she could.

“Second,” he added another digit, “if you did manage to stay astride, I figure to lead Moses through some of the terrain. I don’t want to struggle with two animals.”

“Oh. I—” What had she expected? A n apology? Hah.

Men did not apologize.

“So if all your concerns have been addressed, give me your hand!”

Maggie bristled; his condescending tone heated her temper and boiled her blood. Suddenly the temperature didn’t seem so cold. “You haven’t addressed half my concerns, Mr. McBride,” she ground out. “But since we’re both anxious to be gone, I digress.”

She slapped her wool-covered palm into his bare one, and he yanked her onto the horse.

Her thighs screamed in protest as she straddled the wide gray back. She wiggled and bit back a groan. No matter how much she hurt, she wouldn’t complain. Not to him. She was done talking.

Rafe clicked his tongue, and Moses jostled to a start, forcing her to grab his waist or fall. A s they plowed through the drifts, Maggie peered around Rafe to see where they were. A nd there was nothing. No one. Like he lived at the end of the world. What if they had to ride for days to reach civilization? Dear God, how would she make it? She might never walk again.

“How long until we reach Fort Union?” The question popped out before she could silence her worry.

“I had hoped before nightfall. But we didn’t leave on time.”

The accusation hung in the air. Maggie glowered at his back.

“Then we’re truly fortunate you see so well in the dark,” she retorted.

His head snapped around. “I also hoped to make this trip without your constant chatter.”

A frigid wind whipped through the trees, stealing the reply from her lips. Damn this man! He didn’t even try to be civil.

She curled her hands into a tight fist inside the large gloves as anger churned through her. If she didn’t need him, she’d slap the hat from his thick head. She entertained several more torturous images as she seethed. It was better than agonizing about the next dozen hours in the saddle.

A nother blast of wind tore at her, but she refused to scoot closer to Rafe. She would sit straight and stiff, not touching, certainly not falling asleep on him like last time. A nd she wasn’t going to wonder anymore if he had enough food at his cabin. Or why he didn’t have gloves.

He lived his life the way he wanted.

But her conscience niggled. Now she sounded like the inconsiderate girl Michael claimed her to be. She groaned. Would her life ever be simple?

Rafe heaved a sigh. “What is it now?”

“Nothing.”

Rafe shrugged at her comment, as if he didn’t care.

Which was fine. Because, she reminded herself, she didn’t care either.

****

They rode for hours, or maybe it was days. Maggie couldn’t feel her feet or legs anymore. A ny warmth the sun might have offered was smothered by clouds, hanging like dingy wads of cotton from God’s clothesline.

A utumn leaves peeped from beneath a snowy cloak, their color no longer the vibrant shades of a ball gown, but the drab brown of a work dress.

Occasional bits of ice peppered her face, hinting at what she feared. That they would be caught in another storm. She prayed Rafe knew what he was doing. Maybe today wasn’t the best day to travel. In Missouri, skies that color meant one thing—a storm. Moses already plodded along with effort, his belly dragging through drifts in some spots. How could the poor animal struggle through any more snow?

Stop worrying. She pulled her coat collar over her nose and sucked in warm air. No doubt Rafe knew every wily trick the winter weather could pull. They probably had plenty of time.

Besides, he might not want her company, but he wouldn’t risk their lives just to have her gone.

****

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Rafe cursed himself for the hundredth time. A s sure as his ass was cold, they would be caught in another storm. A bad one. Wanting rid of her was one thing. He didn’t want her dead.

The icy wind howled through the trees, blowing snow, stinging his face. Soon they’d be riding in a whiteout. They couldn’t make it to Fort Union in time.

Hell, they’d do good to make it to Lesterville. It was a couple of hours away, and he couldn’t push Moses much harder.

Rafe had to think of something, some place they could stop.

He slowed the horse at the edge of a stream and dismounted, then stretched and twisted, working the knots from his back. Maggie hadn’t uttered a word all morning. He shouldn’t have been so rude. He believed if she kept quiet, he could ignore her. Wrong. He felt her presence behind him as if she clung like a vine.

He bent and scooped a sip of icy water, letting it slide down his throat. When he stood, she still hadn’t moved.

Good Lord. How long would she stay angry?

“Maggie?”

She sat hunched over, her face tucked into her coat with only her forehead showing. Tremors racked her body, but otherwise she didn’t move.

Worry tore through him like the bitter wind.

“Maggie.” He shook her leg, which felt as cold as the water. Damn it, he should have stopped to check on her sooner.

“Maggie!”

“W-w-what?” came her sluggish, muffled reply.

Dread pounded through his veins. He’d seen men drift to sleep in weather like this and never wake.

“Get down and stretch your legs.”

“W-w-we’re h-h-here?”

The hope in her voice twisted his heart. She wasn’t used to this harsh weather, and he’d taken no consideration of that.

Her head poked out like a turtle from its shell, and wide blue eyes searched the landscape. Then her brow crinkled. “Where’s the town?”

“We’re not at the fort. I stopped to rest. Come on.” He tugged her hand.

“I’ll just stay on Moses until we arrive.” She sank back inside her coat.

“That won’t be anytime soon,” he threatened, shaking her leg again. He had to make her see the severity of their situation.

“W-what do you m-m-mean?” She sat straight.

“This storm’s getting worse, and you can’t ride much longer. We’ve got to find shelter.” A strong northern gust blasted his face with sleet, nearly stealing the words from his mouth.

“B-but where?” Her gaze darted from tree to snow drift.

“I’ll find a place. I want you to move into the saddle.” He pulled his snowshoes from the pack. “I’m going to lead Moses.”

Rafe bent to fasten the shoes over his boots, cursing his frozen fingers. Damn, he needed his gloves back. But he wouldn’t take them from Maggie.

“M-Mr. McBride?”

Her hesitant voice snapped him upright.

“I c-can’t move.” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t f-f-feel my legs.”

A larm skittered up his spine. “Don’t worry.” He scanned the area. “I’ll find a place out of the wind. We can build a fire. A ll right?”

A brittle nod of her head was the only encouragement she gave.

He crunched across the snow, leaning into the wind, tugging the lead rope in vain. Moses resisted each step.

Were they both going to give up and die?

Rafe trudged back to the animal and took the bridle in hand.

“Come on, boy.” He stroked the velvet nose, now wet with snow. “I’ve got some grain in the pack if you’ll just cooperate. We’ve got to get Maggie warm.” Moses nickered and tossed his head, but allowed Rafe to lead. He squeezed into a grove of evergreens and spotted a large blue spruce, its branches dragging the ground. The big gelding snorted as Rafe led him to cover. One side of the tree’s limbs hung propped on a young pine, higher than the others, and the perfect stall for Moses. Rafe stopped long enough to tug Maggie from the saddle. She crumpled in his arms, her legs buckling in the deep snow.

“I c-can’t walk,” she breathed. “A nd I’m s-so sleepy.” Rafe pulled her flush against him, near panicked at the frigid feel of her body. Why hadn’t she told him to stop? Why hadn’t she snuggled to him like when they returned from Cougar Creek?

He knew why. His damned hateful words.

“Shhh. You’ll be fine,” he soothed, then gave Moses a slap on the rump, letting him take cover under the branches.

He swept her into his arms and ducked under the tree. Relief from the brutal wind was immediate. He shuffled through the leaves and needles to the base of the trunk and propped her against the rough bark. Her head lolled back, then she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he ordered. “Wake up.”