Carol Finch (3 page)

Difficult as it was to be gracious, Karissa rose from her chair to accept the dresses. “Thank you,” she murmured, uncomfortable with accepting charity. “I was
just telling Captain Whitfield that I would like to occupy my time and earn wages by becoming a fort laundress.”

Rafe’s thick brows flattened over his narrowed eyes. “I think not. You’ll have to find something to occupy yourself in my room. Perhaps you can sew buttons back on uniforms and darn socks. But you will not be permitted to have the run of this garrison.”

Karissa hitched her chin in the air and defiantly strode over to the cot. She proceeded to jerk off the blanket and sheets. Holding Rafe’s fuming gaze, she dumped the bedding on the floor then made short shrift of transferring his personal belongings from his trunk to the floor.

Beside her, she heard Micah camouflage a chuckle behind a cough. She glanced over her shoulder to see him battling to keep a straight face—and failing miserably.

Rafe glared sabers at her. “Are you finished making your point, Miss Baxter?” he growled.

“Not quite.” Karissa knew she was sliding on the thin edge of his temper, but it was her nature to spit in the face of defeat. She made a beeline for the bookshelf that was lined with military manuals and dumped them, one by one, atop the bedding. “
Now
I’m finished and I’m bored again.”

Micah bounded from his chair, his eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “I think I had better leave before the next skirmish starts. Don’t wanna get caught in the crossfire.”

“No, you’ll stay,” Rafe demanded without taking his eyes off Karissa.

“You definitely have to stay, Captain,” Karissa chimed in then flashed Rafe an impudent grin. “The General is afraid to be alone with me. Terrified, in fact.”

She almost cackled when he puffed up with so much indignation he nearly popped the brass buttons off his uniform.

“Given my position of authority here, there are a lot of people who are afraid to cross me.” He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “You should be one of them.”

“Really? I didn’t know you were God’s brother,” she sassed him.

Micah snickered, but he schooled his amused expression when Rafe shot him an irritated glance.

“Might I remind you, Miss Baxter,” Rafe said through clenched teeth, “that your other option here is to be jailed with the male prisoners in the stockade.”

Karissa shrugged carelessly. “I can take care of myself, General. And believe me, I have found myself in more harrowing situations than being thrust into a stockade with male prisoners.” Her green eyes sparkled with challenge. “Of course, if you wish to contend with a full-scale riot that voices objections to being crowded into unsanitary conditions that, no doubt, plague your stockade, then lead me to it.”

“I don’t think she’s spouting an empty threat, Rafe. It wouldn’t take much to incite the imprisoned settlers. Joan of Arc here looks all too eager to champion a rebellion,” Micah interjected. “However, we
are
short on laundresses at the moment and we could use her offered services. You can always put a guard on her so you can keep track of her constantly.”

Karissa graced Micah with her best smile. “Ah, a man who shows reason and common sense.” She turned back to the stony-faced commander. “I can understand why Captain Whitfield has been chosen as second in command to serve as your advisor, consultant and mentor.”

She waited, wondering if Rafe would relent, espe
cially after she had purposely goaded him. He stood there so stiffly for so long that she almost gave up and resorted to taking the rest of his room apart and leaving it in shambles. Finally he blew out his breath and nodded curtly.

“Very well, Miss Baxter, you can begin your duties as laundress and housekeeper in the officers’ quarters first thing in the morning.” He glared at her again. “And you can start by undoing the damage to my room. I want this place to look exactly the way it did before you performed your whirling dervish act.”

She flashed him a mocking smile and noticed his jaw clenched in determined restraint. She suspected he would enjoy strangling her for maneuvering him into agreeing to her request. Well, tough. She would like to choke him for detaining her at the post.

“You are
too
kind, General,” she cooed pretentiously.

“For the last time,” he gritted out, “stop calling me General!”

When the door swung shut behind Rafe and Micah, Karissa half collapsed on the bed. Squaring off against Rafe Hunter was exhausting. She decided to postpone her escape attempt for a day. Besides, she could use the extra money and she would have the opportunity to familiarize herself with the daily routine at the fort. With money jingling in her pocket she could plan the perfect time to make her escape without drawing too much attention to herself. Then she would return to the property she hoped to claim for her brother and sister-in-law.

But this time, she vowed, she was going to be more watchful and attentive when the army patrol came hunting for illegal squatters. She would dig a hole and pull it in after her, if need be, but she
was
going to stake a
claim on the land she had selected to be the Baxter homestead.

“You were a lot of help,” Rafe muttered to Micah a few minutes later at headquarters as they prepared the duty roster for the following day.

Micah took a seat beside Rafe to peruse the schedule. “Oh, come on, Rafe, you really can’t expect a woman with that much restless energy to sit in a room night and day indefinitely. We lost three laundresses whose husbands intend to participate in the Land Run, and we’re shorthanded. Plus, if you put a guard on Karissa she can’t get far.”

Rafe snorted irritably. “
You
haven’t scuffled with her.
I
have. She could be gone before a negligent guard realized it. That woman is too crafty and clever for her own good.”

“She gets to you, doesn’t she?” Micah asked candidly.

Rafe scowled in frustration. Yes, that hellion was definitely getting under his skin—to the extreme. Never in his life had he been forced to match wits with such a quick-minded female. And to his baffled amazement, he found her extremely attractive, even when she looked like a scruffy ragamuffin in those dowdy men’s clothes. In all fairness, she shouldn’t ooze sex appeal with her tomboyish appearance and her fiery temperament and that sassy mouth.

It was those green eyes that sparked with so much inner spirit that really got to him, he decided. In addition, he had the outrageous urge to grab a handful of that wild mane of curly red hair, pull her to him and kiss the breath out of her when she challenged him. It was an inappropriate and insane reaction—like nothing
he had previously experienced in his association with women.

Before Karissa blew into his life like a tornado, he had never had difficulty controlling his emotions. Ordinarily he reacted with logic and intellect. But he couldn’t respond normally when she purposely tormented him.

He told himself he was attracted to her because he had been a long time without a woman. That was what caused his volatile reaction to Karissa. Since his parents had formally announced his betrothal to Vanessa Payton, Rafe had denied himself sexual satisfaction. It had been the honorable thing to do.

When Karissa’s image flashed through his mind like a bomb bursting in air, Rafe gnashed his teeth. For God’s sake, he was engaged to a woman whose family name carried prestige in military circles. It didn’t matter that he didn’t love Vanessa. How could he? He barely knew her. But she would make an acceptable wife for a career army officer. Even if this fort on the frontier afforded very little in the way of luxuries Vanessa would honor her family obligations and remain by his side.

So why had Rafe spent most of this evening, harboring all these forbidden thoughts of that red-haired witch who prowled around his room? It was beyond ridiculous. In addition, she obviously was in the habit of using her body to gain favors from men.

Even knowing that, he had been tempted by that siren. The realization that he desired her offended his strong sense of personal pride and honor.

She was a woman he knew he shouldn’t—and couldn’t—have.

“Hello?” Micah prompted playfully. “Are we going
to fill in the duty roster or do you plan to spend what’s left of the evening staring off into space?”

Rafe forced himself to focus on the business at hand and set to work assigning tasks for enlisted men. With practiced precision, he and Micah completed the task in a few minutes.

“I suggest we assign Harlan Billings to guard Karissa,” Micah commented. “After you put him on report for being drunk and disorderly, he’s been digging latrines for three days. Personally, I would rather not have him back on patrol with us. I’m tired of listening to him whine and complain about scouting the area, day after day, looking for squatters. If nothing else, it will keep Harlan out of our hair.”

Rafe was inclined to agree. Corporal Harlan Billings—who had been demoted from the rank of sergeant already—was a pain in the backside. Yet, Rafe wasn’t sure he wanted that particular soldier trailing after Karissa. Then again, he mused, she seemed to possess the ability to deal with men. If anyone could keep Harlan in line he would lay odds on the infuriating woman who had taken apart his room for pure spite.

With a nod, Rafe wrote Harlan’s name on the roster. “We’ll give him a trial run tomorrow,” he agreed. “If that doesn’t work out I think Harlan could best serve his country by mucking out the stables for a few days.”

Micah snickered. “Very appropriate. Why not send an ass to clean up after the mules and horses?” He shifted in his chair and sighed tiredly. “I for one will be glad when this Land Run is over and the territorial boundaries aren’t crawling with would-be settlers. The camps in this area are filling up steadily. I’ve counted nearly five hundred wagons circling the encampments. We also received a telegram that reported nearly ten
thousand settlers have gathered on the Kansas border, preparing to move south within the next few days. Hopefully, our job will be easier when these settlers can focus their time on tilling the ground and constructing homes on their claims instead of crowding our space and picking fights with each other.”

“After the Run, I suspect we’ll be exchanging one set of headaches for another,” Rafe prophesied. “Free land brings out greed in people. Not to mention the money-hungry shysters who have been selling falsified maps to these hopeful settlers.”

“All the same, I think I prefer maintaining law and order to scouring the countryside for squatters and babysitting all these campsites that have sprung up around us.” Micah sighed wearily as he stood up. “I’m calling it a night. You can have my cot and I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”

“No,” Rafe insisted. “I’ll take the pallet. Just because a wildcat is tearing up my quarters doesn’t mean you should have to suffer for it. I’m the one who decided to stuff her in there for safekeeping.”

When Micah strode off, Rafe slouched in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. Even though he planned to post a guard to shadow Karissa every hour of the day he still didn’t trust her not to escape. When he returned from scouting the area for squatters he would keep an eye on her himself. He predicted she would try to make her escape at night.

And he would be there to pounce.

It was going to be a fair Run, for one and all, to claim free land, Rafe thought determinedly. Just because he was suffering feelings of partiality toward Karissa didn’t mean he was going to let it stand in the way of duty.
He was not going to show her special treatment by letting her sneak back into the territory prematurely.

On that determined thought Rafe checked the door to see that Karissa was locked up tightly for the night, then he sprawled out on the floor of Micah’s quarters to grab a few hours of sleep.

T
he next morning Rafe dragged himself off the floor, worked the kinks from his back and heaved a tired sigh. He was definitely going to need more padding for his pallet, he decided.

Glancing sideways, he noticed Micah was up and gone. The sound of a trumpet splitting the still morning air prompted Rafe to grab his clothes and dress hurriedly. Never once had he been late for assembly, which commenced a little after five in the morning. He was always there to take roll call then lead the way to the stables to groom and care for the horses.

Lickety-split, Rafe burst out the door, fastening the buttons of his shirt as he went. He reached the parade grounds just as his men gathered in front of him.

She
had done this to him, Rafe mused sourly. Thoughts of that spitfire had kept him tossing and turning instead of enjoying much-needed rest. He could only hope he didn’t look as frazzled as he felt.

Assuming his customary position beside Micah, Rafe drew himself up to dignified stature to begin roll call. A few minutes later he strode toward the stable, with Micah hot on his heels.

“You look like hell,” Micah murmured. “I doubt the rest of the men noticed since they’re still half-asleep. Bad dreams, my friend?”

“Worst nightmare,” Rafe grumbled.

And that’s exactly what Karissa Baxter was, Rafe mused as he tended then saddled Sergeant. She had tempted him, tormented him and deprived him of sleep. If he didn’t believe it was necessary to adhere to the rules of the Run, he’d set her free just to get her out from underfoot. But she had broken the rules and she would suffer the consequences.

At six o’clock, Rafe ambled into the mess hall and plunked down in his chair at the officers’ table. He nearly choked on his coffee when Micah escorted Karissa into the room. All conversation dried up when the men noticed the fetching new arrival.

As for Rafe, he wasn’t sure what he expected the first time he saw Karissa dressed as a respectable lady, but the sight of her would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t been sitting down.

All those shapely feminine curves that had been downplayed by her baggy men’s clothes were advantageously displayed in the pale green gown. He, like every other man in the mess hall, became distracted by the scooped-neck dress that showcased the full swells of her breasts.

She had twisted that thick mass of wild red hair atop her head, calling attention to the swanlike column of her neck. The trim-fitting gown accentuated her tiny waist and the seductive flare of her hips. In short, she was breathtakingly attractive, even with that smattering of freckles on her upturned nose.

To make matters worse, Karissa flashed a smile
around the room and a collective sigh of masculine appreciation sent a draft of air rushing past Rafe.

Damn, beauty, brains and irrepressible spirit all rolled into one. Much too pretty a package to be such an aggravating misfit, he found himself thinking. He had never considered a woman dangerous before, but that was the first word that sprang to mind when he thought of Karissa. Men naturally assumed that such a dainty-looking, petite female who barely stood five feet two inches and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds wouldn’t be a force to reckon with.

Rafe knew better.

“Good morning, General,” Karissa greeted him, all smiles and good humor.

While she gracefully seated herself between Micah and Rafe, he noticed that speculative glances were bouncing across the mess hall. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what his men were thinking, as it pertained to his connection to Karissa.

When Rafe flung Micah a why-in-the-hell-did-you-bring-her-to-breakfast glare, Micah shrugged. “She was getting bored again. I was concerned about your room. I don’t want to bunk together indefinitely.”

Karissa laid her hand on Rafe’s arm and turned such a sticky sweet smile on him that he nearly lost his appetite. “Micah is such a thoughtful and considerate gentleman,” she cooed pretentiously. “You should take your cue from him, General. His charm brings out the best in me.”

Knowing all eyes were on him, he flashed her a smile he didn’t feel. Rafe leaned sideways and whispered, “Do not cross me, woman. You will not win.”

She graced the mess hall full of men with another dazzling smile. “You don’t frighten me in the least,”
she murmured confidentially. “Last night we discovered
who
was afraid of
whom.
”

His fists curled on his thighs, wishing he could strangle her. “I have the authority to see you deported. One word from me and you won’t be permitted to make the Run. You better remember that.”

When her smile faded and her lower lip trembled, as if she was about to burst into tears, Rafe silently scowled. His men stared at him as if he had committed the unpardonable sin of upsetting her. She was staging an act for their benefit and threatening his credibility with his men. Even Micah, and the officers’ wives gathered at the table, looked at him as if he had committed a breach of gentlemanly etiquette.

Hell and damnation! Was there no way to gain the upper hand with her? First off, she had cleverly countered his every threat. Secondly, she stuck in his mind like a flaming arrow, even after he had vowed not to give her another thought. Rafe decided, there and then, that as long as Karissa Baxter was running around the garrison, his routine would be turned upside down.

A wise commander knew when to charge and when to retreat. He had little choice but to take a company of his men and spend the day scouting for squatters. The less he saw of Karissa the better.

Bearing that in mind, Rafe wolfed down his meal then left Micah with the task of introducing Karissa to her posted guard.

Rafe swore he heard Karissa laughing triumphantly when he turned tail and all but ran from the mess hall.

Karissa’s first impression of Harlan Billings, the corporal who had been assigned to keep watch on her while she tended her laundress chores, was not good. After
Micah had made the introductions then walked off to assume his duties, Harlan had leered at her. It annoyed her that he kept finding excuses to place his hand at the small of her back to guide her through doorways and to grasp her elbow as they ascended steps.

His beady black eyes, pointy nose and thin tuft of brown hair reminded her of a rat dressed in a uniform, and each fleeting touch of his hand made her wince. Having this man following like her shadow was quickly spoiling her mood.

While Harlan propped his thin-bladed shoulder against the wall in the washroom, Karissa set to work scrubbing clothes and tried to ignore his unwanted presence. By the time he escorted her to the mess hall for lunch she decided she preferred matching wits with Rafe rather than being subjected to Harlan’s lecherous stares and innuendos. It was obvious this skinny weasel of a man wanted something from her—the same thing that he
presumed
she had given to Rafe.

Judging from the snide comments Harlan made about Rafe, she surmised that her guard suffered from a severe case of professional jealousy. Obviously Harlan coveted Rafe’s position of authority and had convinced himself that the commander held a personal grudge against him.

When the two other laundresses carried off their baskets of clean clothes, leaving Karissa alone with Harlan, he stepped closer and devoured her with another of those insulting stares that visually undressed her.

“So, is the commander’s mistress also available to enlisted men or is he the only one allowed to sample your charms?” Harlan asked rudely.

Karissa tossed the underwear she was cleaning into the soap-filled tub then rounded on the smirking guard. “I am no man’s mistress,” she informed him sharply.
“I am under house arrest, same as the men in the stockade.”

Harlan smiled sarcastically. “Of course, and that explains why you’re staying in Commander Hunter’s living quarters and dining beside him in the mess hall. Come now, sweetheart, everyone at this post knows that rank has privileges. But you should know that the commander is betrothed already. If you’re scheming to become more than his mistress I suggest you think again. The high-and-mighty commander is marrying into another well-known family of military echelon. You’ll never be more to him than the time he’s killing before the wedding.”

Karissa didn’t know why that information sent her stomach on a downward spiral. Rafe Hunter was betrothed to one of his own kind? She shouldn’t be the least bit surprised…or hurt by the news.

It wasn’t as if she wanted Rafe for herself, for she had vowed years earlier that she would never care so much for a man that he could wield the power to destroy her. She had watched her father reduce himself to gambling and drinking when her mother died unexpectedly. She would never let herself become that dependent on anyone.

Looking out for her younger brother fulfilled her need to be useful and needed, and she had no intention of finding herself at the mercy of any man. She had been independent and self-reliant too many years to sit still for that!

She knew Rafe Hunter was far above her station in life, that he was devoted to his military position, that he would—and should—marry someone of equal social prominence. Yet…

And yet nothing, Karissa scolded herself as she went
back to work. Yes, Rafe Hunter was attractive and his dynamic presence demanded her attention. Yes, he was sharp minded and she enjoyed the challenge of matching wits with him. Yes, he appealed to her physically and he stirred something deep inside her the way no other man ever had.

But nothing would ever come of it, she reminded herself sensibly. She
refused
to let it. She enjoyed playing the role of his antagonist until he released her, because ruffling his military feathers provided mentally stimulating amusement.

Harlan nodded toward the soapy tub where Karissa vigorously scrubbed dirty clothes. “There’s an easier and more pleasurable way to earn extra money,” he insisted. “Although the soldiers don’t mind riding into the nearby community to take a tumble with the prostitutes, I’ve no doubt that I could make arrangements for you to visit the men in their barracks. For a cut of the profit, of course.”

Karissa glared at Harlan. It didn’t take long to realize that Harlan was an opportunist who constantly looked for ways to make quick and easy money to supplement his army salary.

“Do you also steal from the post’s commissary and turn the goods to would-be settlers for a profit, Harlan?” she asked perceptively.

She could tell by the look on his face that her presumption was right on the mark. He jerked upright and stared her down. “Just because you’re the commander’s whore doesn’t mean you can use the power of your new position to hurl false accusations to get me demoted or court-martialed.” He stalked over to wag a bony finger in her face and, when he sneered at her, his thin lips all
but disappeared. “If you get me in trouble with Rafe Hunter I swear you will regret it.”

Karissa flung wet underwear at his chest before hurriedly brushing past him. “Excuse me, I need to see to my needs, Corporal Billings. No need to follow me to the latrine. I was told that you know exactly where it is since you’re the one who dug it.”

Leaving Harlan sputtering and swearing, Karissa strode across the compound. If nothing else, she needed a mental break from her annoying guard. She was sure she could have handled that weasel better if he hadn’t blindsided her with the announcement that Rafe was betrothed.

The news had caught her off balance, was all. It explained why Rafe was reluctant to come near her, why he had been taken aback by her request to exchange intimate favors for her freedom. He was obviously in love with his fiancée and intended to remain faithful to her.

Damn, she certainly had come off looking and sounding like a trollop, she mused, disgruntled. She had completely misunderstood Rafe’s intentions of putting her up in his room, and she had tried to turn the situation to her advantage. All she had accomplished was leaving him with the wrong impression of her.

Yes, she had stretched the limits of the law along the way—in the name of caring and providing for her younger brother. She had relied on her wits to obtain funds to support herself and Clint. Never once had she resorted to offering sexual favors for money. She was
not
about to start now. All she had was her pride. If she ever lost that then she would be poor and pathetic indeed.

Karissa took a deep, cathartic breath to regain her
composure. For certain, she wasn’t going to let Harlan Billings rattle her. She was stuck with him—at least until Micah returned and she could request another guard who was less offensive.

When she walked across the parade grounds, she noticed Harlan leaning casually against the washroom wall, smiling that nasty little smile that made her want to double her fist and clobber him. The man was a menace to this army post. She could understand why he had been demoted, why Rafe and Micah chose to leave him behind while they scouted for squatters.

No doubt, Rafe had selected Harlan as her guard to punish her for antagonizing him. Well, it had worked. Karissa couldn’t wait to deliver the clothes she had washed and return to her room. Being alone was far better than spending time with the likes of Harlan Billings.

Micah frowned curiously when Rafe led the patrol in the same direction they had taken the previous evening. “We’re backtracking?”

Rafe nodded. Although the patrol had reconnoitered a different area during the day he wanted to check that no other squatters had pitched camp on the land that Karissa wanted for her own. For the life of him he didn’t know why he was granting her that favor. Nonetheless, he wanted to see to it that this plot of ground remained unclaimed until the day of the Run. She would have a fair chance to obtain the property without some Sooner staking it illegally.

A few moments later he heard Micah chuckling behind him. “Ah, now I understand. Very gallant of you, Rafe. You want the
witch,
as you refer to her, to have
an opportunity to acquire a deed to the property she has her heart set on.”