Midnight Marriage Page 4

  As she opened her bag, she took out a wad of bandages and saw the pocket holding her Colt Navy. She doubted she would need it, but she lifted her scissors and snipped the pocket open just in case she had misjudged the circumstances. Then she lifted out a small brown bottle.

  “I’m going to give you a dose of laudanum,” she said to Nick. “Then I’ll wash my hands and make sure Rafe got all the bullet fragments.” She didn’t like saying the man’s name, but she didn’t have a choice.

  “Will it hurt a lot?” Nick asked.

  “Only for a few minutes, and then you’ll forget about it.”

  When he nodded bravely, she wished to God she could spare him the suffering she was about to inflict. Silently she said a prayer—asking God for wisdom for herself and mercy for the boy. She also prayed for the man who would have to live with himself for the choice he’d made five days ago.

  As she poured the laudanum into a spoon, she wondered again about the relationship between the man and boy. “Are you two related?”

  Nick shook his head. “Not by blood, but we’re partners. Rafe’s teaching me things.”

  Susanna could imagine—how to lie, steal and kidnap women.

  “Did you know he speaks French?” Nick said.

  “Is that so?” she answered. Whatever French the outlaw spoke, he’d probably learned in a brothel. Susanna set down the bottle and lifted the spoon to Nick’s lips. “Drink this.”

  The boy swallowed the drug without making a face. When a child didn’t complain about the taste, she knew an illness was serious. As she corked the bottle, Nick went back to tales about Rafe. “He’s teaching me to read, too. Have you ever heard of The Odyssey?”

  “Nick, that’s enough,” said the man. “Try to sleep.”

  As she pushed to her feet, Susanna looked around the cave for a pot to use for water. She saw one in the corner and picked it up. “I heard a stream at the bottom of the rocks. I’ll need fresh water. We also have to build a fire so I can boil my instruments.”

  “I’ll fetch it,” said the man.

  “Rafe?” The boy’s voice was just above a whisper.

  “What is it, kid?”

  “Thanks for helping me. You won’t leave, will you?”

  Ah, hell, thought Rafe. What could he say?

  A month ago he had left his horse tied in front of an establishment where kids didn’t belong. He’d come out after midnight and found Nick stealing food from his saddlebag. Seeing that the kid was half-starved, Rafe did for the boy what Lemuel Scott had once done for him. He bought the kid a meal. They’d gone back into the saloon where he’d ordered chili and corn bread for them both, beer for himself and milk for the boy.

  While eating supper, Rafe had learned that Nick’s mother had died a month earlier and that he didn’t know his father. More of the story had come out during the long ride from Green River, a town in southern Colorado, to the mountains west of Midas. Rafe surmised that Nick’s mother had been a sweet Irish girl who’d been molested in a rich man’s house. When she discovered she was with child, she’d fled west where she’d made a living doing laundry and possibly things she hadn’t shared with her son.

  Times were hard in Green River. None of the townsfolk had wanted an extra mouth to feed. Neither did any of the local farmers. Nick was old enough to be a burden but not strong enough to do a man’s work. Rafe had been about the same age when his mother, Mimi LaCroix, died in her bed with a pool of blood spreading between her legs. He knew what friendship meant to a frightened boy, and so he’d told Nick they could partner up for a while.

  That promise had turned into something more. Nick had become the little brother Rafe had never had. Over the past month, the decision to give up bounty hunting and settle in Mexico had changed from a desperate escape to a plan for a new life. With the money in his saddlebag, he could start a gunsmithing business south of the border. Thanks to Lem, Rafe knew all about firearms. He also had a talent for engraving—nothing fancy, just roses and the like—but he enjoyed it. He figured he’d gotten his eye for beauty from his mother.

  Being with Nick had brought back some of Rafe’s finest memories. He’d been eighteen and almost a man when he’d met Lemuel Scott, but he’d been greener than Nick when it came to surviving in dusty cow towns. Lem had taught Rafe everything he knew: how to trail a wanted man across miles of empty prairie, how to shoot to maim and the best ways to capture an outlaw when he was worth more alive than dead—like Frank Benton. The murdering bastard had been tried and hanged, and Rafe’s saddlebag was bulging with the bounty.

  As he glanced down at Nick’s leg, Rafe felt his chest muscles tighten into a wall. The Bentons hadn’t been pleased to have their pa locked up, and they had vowed to make Rafe pay, both for turning in their old man and for double-crossing them. Earlier, they’d accepted him as a friend, a brother even, and he’d betrayed their trust by tricking the old man into wandering alone into the night. After knocking Frank Benton stone-cold, Rafe had hog-tied him and turned him in to the authorities.

  That had happened back in Colorado, but five days ago, Rafe had run into the gang near Cimarron and had traded shots. To his shame, Nick had taken a bullet meant for him. The kid was too damn brave for his own good. And too damn young to lose his leg.

  As much as Rafe wanted to keep his promise to take Nick to Mexico, he couldn’t risk being caught by the Bentons. Nor did he want his guardian angel to drag him back to St. Louis for a trial of his own.

  Rafe’s nickname for the man who’d been following him was pure sarcasm. He didn’t know who his father had hired to track him down after that night in St. Louis, but the man was no angel. If he was anything like Rafe’s old man, he had a heart of stone. He also had an uncanny ability to stay in the shadows. While riding with Lem, Rafe had often asked his friend to check out a town for the damnable posters. When he found one, Lem would ask questions at a local saloon. The story was always the same. The posters were delivered by a local railroad agent. If anyone made a claim for the reward, a nameless man showed up, listened and left.

  It struck the average man as odd, but Rafe understood the tactic. His father’s detective didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He was laying a trap, one which Rafe had been able to avoid with Lem’s help and by traveling farther west. Lem had been dead a year now, and Rafe found it harder to keep a low profile.

  Every time he set foot in a town, he risked being recognized. Going to Midas was out of the question, but so was leaving Nick. He’d have to find another place for the doctor to treat the boy’s leg. He dropped back to a crouch and squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “We’re in this together. Now get some rest.”

  The lady doctor pushed to her feet. “The laudanum needs a few minutes to work. May I have a word with you?”

  After a curt nod, Rafe walked to the front of the cave, where a layer of clouds had dimmed the morning sun. He would have welcomed a heavy rain. Storms were nature’s way of erasing a man’s tracks and giving him a clean start. At the same time, the drop in temperature made him afraid for Nick. The boy looked even weaker than he had a day ago, and Rafe worried that he’d catch a chill.

  He reached the mouth of the cave ahead of the lady doctor but motioned for her to go first. As she moved into the daylight, she tipped her face up to the clouds. A drop of rain struck her cheek as Rafe stepped to her side. He had an urge to wipe it away, though he didn’t know why.

  Maybe it was the vinegar smell of her hair or the knowledge that she was aching for Nick. Wordless, they stood together as clouds boiled over the ridge. Raindrops spattered Rafe’s face and hers too, forcing them to walk back into the cave where they’d have to whisper to keep from frightening Nick.

  Rafe dipped his head to her ear and said, “Level with me. How bad is it?”

  She shook her head in despair. “If he were an adult, I’d take off the leg. But he’s just a boy… “

  When she bit hard on her lips, Rafe knew how she felt. He wanted to beat himself bloody for not getti
ng help immediately. “How soon do we have to decide?”

  In her eyes he saw both dread and a steely anger. “Before I recommend anything, I want to take him to Midas. Judging by the look of the wound, he still has bullet fragments in his leg. I need to operate, and I’d prefer to do it in the clinic. I also have herbs that I can brew into a tea that’s fairly effective against blood poisoning. The rest of the treatment is just common sense. Keeping him warm is critical to fight the shock, and I can’t do that in this cave.”

  Rafe saw her point. The rain was coming in waves, gentle but cold enough to chill a man’s bones. “I’ll build a fire.”

  “That’s not enough,” she insisted. “Let me take him to town.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Not even to save his life?” Her voice shook with annoyance. “I can see you two are close. Why don’t you leave him with me and come back later? Maybe in a month or two.”

  If Rafe stayed in one place too long, his guardian angel was sure to find him. And if he hid out in the mountains, the Bentons would track him down. Was leaving Nick in Midas the right thing to do? Maybe so. The doctor would give the boy a home or see to it that he was adopted by a good family. Rafe wouldn’t be abandoning Nick. He’d be seeing to the boy’s needs. But he knew in his gut that Nick wouldn’t see it that way. The kid would feel like a piece of trash being set aside. Rafe had felt the same way when his father had sent him off to school and the bitterness lived in him to this day. He couldn’t do that to Nick. He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

  When her eyes caught his, he had no trouble seeing her with a scalpel in anatomy class. The woman was tough, but only when being firm was kindness in disguise. Rafe had the feeling she was about to pull his guts out, and he was going to let her because he had it coming.

  “I don’t know why you’re on the run, mister. And I don’t care,” she said evenly. “But I do care about Nick. How could you involve him with the Bentons? He should be in school and shooting marbles, not facing an amputation.”

  Shame boiled in the pit of Rafe’s stomach. He’d give his right nut to save the boy’s leg. Hell, he’d give his left one, too. He’d risked his life and his freedom to bring the doctor when he did, but he didn’t have to explain himself to a know-it-all woman. He’d wasted enough time already.

  He curled his lips into a snarl. “You don’t know squat about what’s happened, so mind your own business.”

  She stared right back. “I know that a boy needs a clean bed and decent meals.”

  “Damn it, lady.”

  “And I know that a child should never face an amputation.”

  “Christ on crutches,” he muttered.

  Ignoring his profanity, she got right in his face. “I know something else, too. This could have been avoided. You should have brought him to me when it happened. I could have—oh God.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped then away before they spilled down her cheeks.

  Rafe glared up at the clouds. He wanted to hock up a mouthful of spit, but the taste of peppermint stopped him. “There has to be another answer,” he said. “Do what you can right now. I need to think for a bit.”

  “You’ve already wasted five days. What’s there to decide?” She glanced back at Nick, who had fallen into a fitful slumber, then she jammed the cooking pot into his hands. “I need water. I’ll build up the fire while you fetch it.”

  He was about to tell her to get it herself when he remembered he still had her shoes. Her feet had to be halffrozen, and the floor of the cave was covered with bat dung. He almost handed her the boots, but he worried that she’d carry Nick to the surrey and ride off—not that her horse could move faster than his. He just didn’t want to go to the trouble of chasing her.

  “I want my shoes,” she demanded.

  He looked down at the hem of the dress showing beneath her duster. It took him back to her bedroom where he’d seen her toes. It also reminded him of the shotgun under her bed and the struggle in the clinic.

  “Not a chance, lady. I don’t trust you for a minute.”

  Rafe pulled his hat low against the rain, tucked the pot under his arm and headed down the trail to the stream. Wrapped in worries about Nick and mad at the lady doctor for telling the truth, he wasn’t paying attention when Zeke Benton emerged from behind a boulder and pointed his pistol straight at Rafe’s head.

  Chapter Four

  “Hold it right there, LaCroix.”

  Susanna had just stepped to the back of the cave when a new voice reached her ears. Deep and gravelly, it belonged to a determined man. Had a U.S. Marshal caught up to the outlaw? Her heart pounded with hope, but she couldn’t forget Nick’s mention of the Benton gang. For all she knew, the voice belonged to the Benton brother who had slashed a bank teller’s throat in Cimarron, going so deep that he’d nearly severed the man’s head. Or perhaps he was the brother named Zeke. At the thought of what he’d done to Melissa, Susanna’s stomach churned.

  Whether the stranger was a marshal or one of the Bentons, she intended to be prepared. Dropping to a crouch, she opened her medical bag and curled her fingers around the butt of her Colt Navy. After pushing to her feet, she lurked at the mouth of the cave where she had a view of Rafe standing with his hands in the air. After the way he’d manhandled her at the clinic, she almost smirked. But that small satisfaction turned to a chill when she glimpsed the man aiming a revolver at Rafe’s face.

  The description of Zeke Benton on the Wanted posters said he was six feet tall and weighed over two-hundred pounds. The mug shot above it had shown a man with acne-scarred cheeks, black hair and crooked teeth. The stranger holding Rafe at bay matched the photograph perfectly.

  Please God…anyone but the Bentons…

  But even as the words formed in her mind, she saw the truth in Rafe LaCroix’s eyes. “What do you want, Zeke?”

  “I want to see buzzards eating the flesh off your bones. Our pa’s dead and you should be too.”

  “He deserved to hang and you know it.”

  “You tricked us, you son of a bitch. You had Pa eating out of your hand, and then you turned him in for the goddamned bounty.”

  “Only because he was worth more alive than dead.”

  “Maybe so,” Zeke drawled. “I bet you feel the same way about that boy, don’t you?”

  Killing went against every bit of Susanna’s training, but she’d shoot Zeke Benton dead before she’d let him harm Nick. She raised the Colt and took aim, praying the whole time that he’d change his mind about harming anyone and ride away. At the same moment, she saw Rafe shrug off the threat. “The boy doesn’t mean shit to me.”

  Liar. Susanna knew that he’d take a bullet to protect Nick. She could also see the tension in his neck and jaw. He was itching to tear Zeke Benton into pieces.

  Benton gave a sneer of his own. “Maybe not, but what about the lady doctor? She’s a pretty thing, ain’t she?”

  His voice dripped like honey—sickening sweet and as dangerous as a nest of bees. Rafe was trying to appear nonchalant, but she could see a tick in his jaw just below his ear. She knew his Colt was inside his duster. Benton had to know it, too, but he was enjoying a perverse litany of what he intended to do to her.

  For once, Susanna was glad to be underestimated as a woman. It hadn’t occurred to Benton that she’d be armed and ready to defend herself. After an especially foul reference to her anatomy, she cocked the hammer of the Colt.

  “So what’s your preference, LaCroix?” Benton said. “I can’t decide which I’d enjoy more—shooting you first and taking my time with the lady, or tying you up so you can watch while I get between her legs.”

  Susanna focused on Zeke while keeping Rafe in her peripheral vision. Rafe had curled his lips into a smirk as if he were about to make a smart remark. At the same time, he went for his gun.

  Before Benton could fire, Susanna shot him in the head. The bullet went exactly where she intended—into his temple where it took his life with more mercy than
the Bentons had shown the bank clerk with the slashed jugular vein.

  Later she’d be sick, but she had seen what Zeke Benton had done to Melissa. He’d torn her insides to shreds and left her fearing babies and how they were made. If the early signs were accurate, he’d also left her carrying his child. If Rafe LaCroix had put Frank Benton in jail, Susanna figured his life was worth saving—and that Zeke Benton’s life had needed to end.

  Rafe was scrambling to the cave, keeping low behind the rain-slicked rocks. “Get back!” he shouted. “The bastard’s not alone.”

  Susanna took cover inside the cave and studied the terrain. The scattered boulders could have concealed a dozen men and Rafe had to cross an open patch of dirt. Keeping the Colt ready, she scanned the terrain for gunmen but saw nothing. The rain had eased, leaving a freshness in the air that didn’t match the violence of the morning.

  She heard Nick whimper. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  “But I can help. I can shoot—”

  “No! It’s best if you stay put.”

  “But Rafe—”

  “He’ll be here in a minute.”

  At least that’s what she hoped as he sprinted across the half-moon of dirt in front of the cave. He was just ten steps away when a gunman popped up from a boulder, fired and dropped out of sight. The bullet hit the granite above her head and sent daggers of stone flying through the air. A shard scratched the skin above her left eye and stopped her from getting off another shot.

  Rafe charged into the cave, snatched up the carbine and took aim, but the shootist stayed low. With the sulfur smell thick in the air, he glanced in her direction. “Did they teach you that in medical college?”