The Wedding Ransom (22 page)

Dizzy with fear, Maggie lurched to her feet and followed after them, almost running to catch up with Rafe’s long ground-eating strides. The other papas trailed behind, moving as fast as their aged legs would carry them.
Please, God
, she prayed.
Take care of Snake. Don’t let him die. Please, God.

She stayed behind Rafe but close enough to hear the low, gasping words her papa muttered. “Hate being old. Not much of a man anymore. I hurt.”

“Hold on there, Snake. I’ll have you to your bed in two wags of a hungry dog’s tail.”

A couple of minutes later, Snake spoke again. “Tired of fightin’. Hill. Now Montgomery. Makes me so damned tired. Sometimes I wonder if I should…” He gasped in pain and rasped, “Quit.”

“No,” Maggie moaned softly. He couldn’t quit. Snake never quit at anything. He couldn’t start now! She saw Rafe’s arms squeeze her papa tighter.

Rafe glanced at her, his eyes saying something. A question? A warning? He smiled reassuringly, winked, then said, “Hell, no, you can’t quit. Maggie needs you. You have work yet ahead of you, and you’re the only one mean enough to do it. She needs your protection.”

“From…what?” Snake opened tired eyes dull with pain.

“Not from what. From who. Your Maggie needs protection from me, Snake MacKenzie. Remember what you’ve warned me against these past weeks? Remember your promises? Well, you gotta be around to keep them. I touched her, Snake.”

“Rafe!” Maggie yanked on his shirt. “What are you doing? Are you trying to kill him?”

He ignored her, continuing in a savoring tone, “I made about as free with my hands as a man possibly can.”

“You mean…?” Snake rasped, attempting to lift a feeble hand.

“Yep.”

Seconds passed like minutes, then life sparked in the old pirate’s eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Maggie heard the renewed strength in Papa Snake’s voice, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Now she understood Rafe’s wink.

Rafe met Snake’s gaze and nodded. “I reckon you need to try. But first you’ll have to get well, old man. I don’t fight invalid old quitters. If you want to make me pay for taking your granddaughter’s innocence, you have to live through this first.”

Snake blew a harsh breath filled with pain. “Reckon I’ll do it then, Malone. I’m gonna cut your nuts off and serve them to you for supper.”

A wide smile broke across Maggie’s face. Now she knew for certain Papa Snake would be all right.

Rafe sat sprawled on the horsehair sofa in the hotel’s parlor, his legs outstretched and his arms crossed over his chest. Although he presented a picture of total relaxation, inside he was strung tighter than a two-dollar fiddle. The doctor was in with Snake MacKenzie.

Maggie and her grandfathers proved less successful than he in hiding their anxiety. Maggie about wore a path in the floorboard varnish. Gus and Lucky played a vicious, almost violent game of chess, while Ben stood staring out the window toward the lake, his fingers drumming against the glass over and over and over. Rafe thought Barlow Hill had shown admirable perception when, after one look at the pirates’ tense expressions, he had declared his intention to spend the rest of the afternoon with the carpenters and laborers camped at the building site on the other side of the lake.

Maggie heaved a sigh, catching Rafe’s attention. The poor thing looked so darned pitiful that his arms ached to hold her. The rest of his body just plain ached. He’d made the normally four-hour trip into the nearest town and back to fetch the doctor in a little under three. The hard ride had him yearning for a mud bath, but he wasn’t going anywhere until he heard what the physician had to say about his patient.

Finally, the squeak of a hinge from above and the heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs announced that the doctor had finished his examination. Rafe stood as Gus and Lucky turned away from their game. Ben allowed his hand to drop to his side. Maggie steepled her hands over her mouth, wobbling on her feet until Rafe took her elbow and offered his support.

Dr. Terence Moore trudged into the parlor, his head tilted to one side as he massaged his neck. “The patient is resting well, you’ll be pleased to know. Based on his description of his symptoms, I believe it was a seizure of his heart. I take it as a good sign he made it this long following his spell. If he survives the night, I expect he’ll live.”

Maggie swayed against Rafe. Ben turned away from the window, faced the doctor, and asked, “What do we do to help him?”

“Pray,” replied the doctor. “That and continue the doses of that water of yours. I am uncertain how it benefits the body, but it obviously doesn’t seem to hurt. I’ll be the first to admit the science of medicine has plenty left to learn.”

“And tomorrow?” Maggie asked, her voice thready. “When he wakes up tomorrow, how should we minister to him?”

Dr. Moore offered her a kind smile. “You must make him stay in bed for at least two weeks. After that, he can resume his activities on a limited basis. He should not be subjected to any strains, anxieties, or tensions—the least little upset could kill him, I’m afraid.”

Lucky folded his arms. “That means the dog Barlow Hill can’t even walk upstairs.”

“The cur.”

“The mongrel.”

“The mutt,” Rafe added, unconsciously filling in for Snake. He was worried. Had he done the wrong thing by telling the pirate about him and Maggie? Had he caused even greater damage to the man’s health?

The doctor continued, “Your friend did illustrate a keen will to live, however, and that is the best possible medicine for him.”

Rafe blew a long breath, grateful to have that concern dismissed. He realized his grip on Maggie’s elbow was tighter than necessary and he forced his hand to relax. Not that she noticed. He wasn’t sure she even knew where she was. Shoot, she hadn’t been this upset when she damn near died in that cenote. He hoped Snake MacKenzie realized how lucky he was to be loved by this woman.

“Can we see him?” she asked.

The doctor nodded. “One at a time. Someone should be with him all night.”

Maggie gave Ben a pleading look. He smiled gently at her and nodded. She flew from the parlor and up the stairs as Ben announced, “We will take three-hour watches. Malone, since you rode for Dr. Moore here, you are excused from duty.”

Rafe had no intention of skipping his turn, but he wouldn’t argue about it now. He listened without speaking as the pirates bombarded the doctor with questions about Snake’s condition, and upon exhausting that topic moved on to their own aches and ailments. When the doctor declared his intention to conduct examinations on them all, Rafe excused himself and headed for the bathhouse, detouring by the kitchen to grab a bottle of cider and swipe one of Snake’s Havanas.

Inside the three-walled structure, he lit the cigar, stripped off his clothes, and eased into the warm mud with a heartfelt sigh. Soothing heat seeped into his muscles, relaxing the knots created by tension and toil. Finding a seat on the submerged ledge, he rested his head against the log wall behind him and closed his eyes. Memories of the day’s events stole through his mind in a riot of color and emotion.

He felt pretty good about Snake MacKenzie’s chances. Twice in his life he’d seen a man die of heart seizures, and both of them died within an hour of the attack. Snake was simply too tough an old coot to kick up his heels without making Rafe pay for his trifling with Maggie.

Clearing his mind of all thought, Rafe drifted into a comfortably hazy half-sleep as his body recharged. He smoked the cigar and took occasional pulls on the bottle, the tangy-sweet cider a sensual compliment to the tobacco.

The voice sneaked up on him like a dream. “How do you feel, Rafe?” Maggie asked.

He cocked open one eye. She stood framed by shadow just inside the door, appearing weary and worried and still in need of that hug. Rafe’s lips curled in a rueful grin. Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate his obliging her at this particular moment. He removed the Havana from his mouth. “How do I feel?” he repeated, closing his eyes. “I reckon that happy as a pig in slop is the most appropriate description, under the circumstances.”

His hearing keen, he heard her move closer.

“I came here to thank you for your assistance today,” Maggie said. “Carrying Papa Snake home. Riding for the doctor. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

Rafe thought he’d earned a moment of self—righteousness. “So Gentleman Rafe Malone helped you after all. Guess you jumped the gun by haranguing me this morning.” She winced and he immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Forget I said that. Let me start over. You’re welcome, Maggie. I was happy to be of help.”

She moved to the edge of the mud bath and sat, then began to unlace her shoes. Rafe tried to ignore the erotic pictures that flashed in his mind at the innocent exposure of a bit of ankle. He swallowed hard. “You must be tired.”

“I have had an eventful twenty-four hours.”

She rolled down her stockings and plopped her bare feet into the mud bath, teasingly close to his thighs. Rafe eyed the expanse of bare leg in front of him and couldn’t help but ask, “You want to join me, sweetheart? I’ll scoot over and make room. Or better yet, you can sit in my lap.”

“You are wicked, Malone.”

“That’s why you like me so much.”

She smiled then, the first one he’d seen on her face all day. It made Rafe feel surprisingly good. “You know what, Miss Maggie? I think you lied to me. I think you were feeling a bit bashful this morning.”

She looked out toward the lake and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel that way now, though.”

In the process of lifting her feet from the mud and wiggling her toes, she froze. A myriad of emotions played across her face before she plopped her feet back into the bath. “Today’s events make that all seem silly.”

“Not silly, Maggie. Just normal.” Rafe ground out his cigar on the planks beside the bath. “I was sorry you weren’t with me when I woke up this morning.”

She turned her face away, but he could still see the blush staining her cheeks.

Smiling, he spoke in a low, sincere tone. “It was a fine night we passed together, Mary. The finest in my memory.”

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“All right. What is it you want to talk about?”

“Not what. Who. I want to talk about Andrew Montgomery. I want to ask you one more time. I need your help, Rafe. We all need your help. Please, tell me what it would take to convince you to bring us my grandfathers’ treasure?”

Rafe cracked a laugh that was anything but amused. “Let’s see, to convince me to steal for you in Texas, I reckon you’d have to lasso the moon and hogtie it to the sun.”

“But, Rafe—”

“I gave my word, Maggie,” he said flatly. “It’s the one thing nobody can take away from me; I’d have to give it away. I’m not about to do that. I’m not going back on my word.”

“But that makes no sense!” She threw out her hands, palms up. “You’re a thief, you steal from people. Why would breaking your word bother you so much?”

“Why?” Rage at the question flared like a match to dry grass. Rafe shoved to his feet and climbed from the bath, heedless of his nakedness. “You know what happens when people break their word? Women die on battlefields, that’s what. Bloody, ugly, needless deaths. And smart men become fools who hide from the truth. Fools ready to hang an innocent man rather than face their own failings.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about honor. I’m talking about who a man is in here.” He struck his chest with his fist. “About the consequences possible when a man betrays himself. I’ve been on both sides of it, Maggie. I’ve felt a noose around my neck because another man broke his word. And I…”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t force the words through his throat.

“You what, Rafe? You broke your word to someone? You did it for them, but you won’t do it for me? I’m good enough to bed, but not good enough to cause you to bend your precious honor?”

“Damn you, Maggie St. John! It’s not like that at all.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You want to know? You want to hear the gory details? Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Rafe braced his hands on his hips and loomed over her. “Yeah, I broke my word. To the very same man you want me to betray now. Luke Prescott. And the last time I went back on my word to Luke, people died. Because of me and my broken promise, a very lovely, very special woman and her two innocent children now lie in their graves. It was my fault, Maggie.” He thumped his chest with his finger. “My fault.”

“Oh, Rafe.”

He whirled around, unwilling to see what must be in her expression. Disgust, revulsion, loathing, perhaps. Heaven knows, he’d seen them all and more. For years he’d seen them in his own eyes every time he looked into the mirror, never leaving until Luke Prescott had tracked him into the east Texas cane—breaks and offered him the opportunity for redemption.

“I can’t help you, Maggie. I’m sorry, but I cannot steal that treasure for you. But, there is something I can do to help. I have some wealth of my own put away, and you are welcome to use it to save Hotel Bliss. I had intended to tell you about it earlier, but I never had the chance. It’s not all in cash, so it may take me a little time to convert it. I expect I can bring you somewhere around seventy thousand dollars. That should be enough to pay off Hill. I wouldn’t think this property is worth much more than fifty.”

“Wait a minute, Rafe. This is happening too fast. What do you mean—”

“I mean that I’m leaving first thing in the morning,” he interrupted, impatient with the thought of doing any more explaining. He needed to get away from her, right now. He couldn’t bear any more questions. He walked to the edge of the lake where the setting sun cast a glittering ray of diamonds upon the surface. “I’d be obliged if you’d go on back to the hotel now and leave me to finish my bath in peace.”

He waded knee-deep into the water before stretching out into a dive. Right before his head submerged, he heard her say, “You offer to pay me? You would do that?”

The warm water surrounded him, washing away the residue of his mud bath. If only the memories Maggie St. John had stirred inside him could be washed away so easily. He’d rather do just about anything than think of that horrible time.