Chasing Rainbows (12 page)

Her face was pale when she turned to look at him, her expression drawn and tense. Her words, however, were vintage Annie. “You got my deed?”

Jake nodded. “I’ve got it.”

Her mouth curved in a tight, satisfied smile. “Then I’m fine, mister. I’m just fine.”

By mutual unspoken consent, they slowed their pace, moving from a flat-out run to an easy canter. As the hours passed, clouds gathered overhead and a soft, misty rain began to fall. A sudden chill filled the air, leaving them both cold and miserable. But at least the rain would help cover their tracks. They rode on in silence, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and the outlaw camp as they could before nightfall.

Jake soon began to feel every bruise and cut that the giant had left on his body. His muscles were aching, his bones felt brittle, and his skin stung as though it had been rubbed raw. Glancing over at Annie, he saw her face was tight and drawn as well, etched with lines of fatigue and strain.

He surveyed the horizon, looking for a place to stop. Finally he spotted a narrow stream that curved through a dense grove of pine. It was situated atop a mesa of rich red clay earth. The surrounding terrain sloped gently downward, giving them the advantage of miles of visibility. Not a bad spot to camp for the night. The ground beneath them was softly bedded with pine needles and looked every bit as inviting as a goose-down bed lined with satin sheets.

Jake glanced over at Annie. “You feel like resting for a bit?”

In answer, she wearily reined Dulcie to a firm stop.

Jake gratefully eased out of the saddle, biting back a groan as he did.

Beside him, Annie dropped Cat to the ground. The feline arched her back and stretched dramatically, then set out to explore their new camp. Jake watched without much interest as Cat poked about her new surroundings, then sat down to lick herself clean. The mud and dirt from Annie’s clothing had rubbed off on Cat, he noted, eyeing the dark stain that coated the animal’s fur. The dark, reddish brown stain…

His gaze shot back to Annie. She carefully slid off Dulcie’s back, swaying for a moment as her feet hit the ground. She closed her eyes and grabbed her saddle horn for support.

Jake was at her side in two long strides. “Where is it?”

Annie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “My left side.”

He put his hand to her waist, gently probing the wound, but drew back quickly at Annie’s sharp gasp of pain. A thick smear of blood coated his palm. He jerked his gaze to hers, fighting back panic and anger. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”

“I figured it was just a scratch.” Her lips twisted into a bleak smile. “Imagine that, mister,” she said weakly, glancing down at her side. “I ain’t never been shot before. Now I finally get on the right side of the law—” She stopped abruptly and swallowed hard. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Jake wrapped his arm around her shoulders for support. “Easy now, darlin’. It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Annie didn’t fight his touch as she usually did but leaned heavily against him instead, a fact that only served to heighten his alarm.

“Let’s get you down somewhere so I can take a look at that,” he said. He tucked his arm behind her knees and lifted her, feeling the hot, wet smear of her blood against his chest. Her head lolled limply against his shoulder as he carried her toward the grove of pine. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her skin. Her eyes were shut and her lips tightly clamped. Whether she was fighting back pain or nausea, or perhaps a bit of both, Jake couldn’t tell.

He set her down, making her as comfortable as he could in the bed of pine. Then he stood and turned to go back to Weed. As he moved, he felt a soft tug at his boot. Jake looked down to see Annie’s pale hand holding on to his ankle. She quickly released her grasp, as though embarrassed by the neediness of the gesture and resigned to its futility. She stared up at the sky, blinking hard, clearly fighting to get a rein on her emotions.

“I reckon you’re just gonna ride off and leave me here,” she said. Her voice was tinged with hard-edged acceptance and weary inevitability.

“No. I’m not going to do that.”

Jake waited for her eyes to meet his. Once they did, he saw that her gaze was cloudy with pain and confusion, fear and mistrust. She obviously didn’t believe him.

“I’m not leaving you, Annie,” he said, schooling his voice to a tone of gentle reassurance. “There are some supplies in my bag that I need. I’ll be right back.”

He strode quickly to Weed and fumbled through saddlebags until he found his knife, a shirt he could rip apart to bind her wound, a canteen of water, and a flask of bourbon.

He returned to Annie, wrapped his arm beneath her shoulders, and eased her to a half-sitting position. He brought the flask to her mouth and carefully tipped it, swilling a generous portion of the contents down her throat. With any luck, it would be enough to knock her out.

Annie swallowed and coughed, then a shudder ran through her thin frame. “You trying to poison me?”

“That’s fine Kentucky bourbon, darlin’. You keep it down, or I’ll never forgive you for wasting my good liquor.” Jake took a generous swig for himself, then set the flask aside.

Annie’s eyes opened and locked on his face, watching his every move. He carefully cut open her clothing, gently prying it away from her wound. Knowing she was watching him, he feigned an expression of calm detachment. But what he saw sent his pulse rocketing and his heart pounding hard against his chest. Blood, and lots of it, staining her pale skin and dripping down her left side. Some of the blood had begun to clot, some of it was still flowing freely. He gently examined the wound with his fingers and found the thick, hard lump where the bullet had lodged beneath her skin.

Annie bit back a gasp of pain at his probing. Her eyes flew to his.

“The bullet is still inside,” he said, answering her silent question.

“All right.” She clenched her fists as she fought back another spasm of pain. “You reckon you can get it out, mister?” she asked hoarsely.

“I reckon so,” he said, forcing a calm assurance into his voice.

“Good.” She let out a shallow, bourbon-scented breath as a weak smile touched her lips. “Cause I ain’t ready to die just yet.”

Icy dread lodged tightly in Jake’s gut. Panic gripped him, momentarily leaving him paralyzed. But night was quickly falling; best to get it over while there was still enough light to see by. He tilted the flask toward her. “You want another swig?”

Annie shook her head. Her eyes were frightened but disturbingly lucid.

Jake poured a generous stream of the bourbon over blade of his knife.

“That for luck?” she asked.

“I guess.” During the War Between the States, he’d seen a few surgeons douse their instruments with alcohol before cutting open a body and then douse the wound itself once the operation was complete. For some reason, those patients seemed to fare better than others. Damned if he — or the doctors, for that matter — knew why.

Jake set the flask aside and wiped the sweat from his palms on his pants. No more stalling. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then looked his patient straight in the eye.

“You don’t have to be brave for me, darlin’. Go ahead and scream if you want.”

He lifted the knife and touched the blade to her skin.

Annie ran as fast as she could, terrified. Hannah was ahead of her, but she was seven, three years older than Annie’s age of four, and her long, skinny legs carried her much faster than Annie’s short, pudgy ones. Mama was going to be furious. She’d warned them to stay away from that beehive, but the honeycomb Papa had brought home had tasted so sweet, they couldn’t resist going back for more. Now the bees were everywhere, swarming all around her. She couldn’t get away, no matter how fast she ran. They started biting her, driving their sharp, pointed stingers into her side. Her left side…

Annie was hot; very, very hot. Mama and Papa and Hannah were gone. She was in her bedroom in the old, run-down farmhouse by the creek. Doc Mundy was taking care of her. She could hear the low, steady drone of his voice as he murmured soothing words to her. His big, gentle hands brushed lightly against her skin as he rubbed a cool, damp cloth over her body. She would be all right now. Doc Mundy and his wife were good folks, kind and gentle. They were too soft though, especially on their boy, Pete. But she couldn’t tell the Mundys that. He was their son, their real kin, not Annie.

Now the Doc and his wife were gone. Pete and the boys were carousing in town, leaving her alone in the cabin in the woods. Except she wasn’t alone. Snakeskin Garvey was there. Annie tried to run for the door, but he caught her wrist before she made it. He threw her down on the bed, smothering her with his body. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. She watched herself from a distance, frozen in her helplessness and her terror, unable to run or scream. If she could just get to her guns…

Annie jerked awake with a start.

Her mouth was dry, her heart pounded in her chest. She instinctively groped for a weapon, then she stopped short, frightened and disoriented. She had no idea where she was or how she had come to be there. All she knew was that she was lying in a grove of pine, a bed of soft, fragrant needles beneath her, and a thick stack of blankets covering her. A small pile of ashes smoldered a few feet away, the remains of what looked to have once been a rather decent fire.

She drew herself up to a sitting position. A sharp, blistering pain filled her left side. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, exhaling slowly as the burning ache gradually eased to a dull throb. As she glanced down at her side, her memory came back in a rush. She’d been shot by those no-good, thieving bandits. She searched her mind for more details as to what had followed, but that was the last thing she could remember.

Well, at least one thing was clear: She was all alone now. A deep, woodsy silence enveloped her, and there was no sign of another human for miles. At least that fancy-pants gambler had doctored her up a bit before he’d hightailed it out of there, she thought. Her wound was clean and tightly bound — sore but manageable.

She was outfitted in one of her old flannel shirts, loose and big enough to be worn as a nightshirt. Jake must have dressed her before he left. The thought of him seeing her body — of him actually touching her, running his big hands over her bare skin — sent a shiver down Annie’s spine. Oddly enough, though, it wasn’t entirely a shiver of revulsion. She felt anxious and abashed that he’d seen her like that, yes, but not repulsed.

Annie shook off the thought. By running out on her, at least he had spared her the embarrassment of ever seeing him again. But embarrassment quickly gave way to concern as she glanced around, realizing that he’d made off with everything she owned. Including her horse, her guns, and her deed, she thought in alarm.
Damn him
. The full weight of exactly how vulnerable she was hit home as a threatening rustle filled the scrub brush a few yards from her makeshift bed.

It could be those thieving outlaws, trailing after her for revenge. Or maybe a wolf, half starved and crazy. Or maybe —

Jake Moran stepped through the brush, a load of firewood stacked high in his arms and three freshly killed and tightly bound rabbits tossed over his shoulder. Cat bounded along behind him, hissing and swatting at Jake’s ankles as he walked. Relief swelled within her at the sight of them both. So he hadn’t abandoned her after all.

He glanced in her direction, then drew to an abrupt stop, surprise clearly etched on his features. “You’re awake.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

He continued toward her, pausing only long enough to set down the wood and the rabbits. Cat bounded toward her and leapt into her lap. Annie winced at the sudden motion, then automatically began to stroke the animal’s fur. Cat ran her long, crooked tail beneath Annie’s chin, then curled up into a tight ball, emitting a rough, gravelly purr of satisfaction.

Jake watched them both for a moment, then hunkered down beside her, resting his weight on his heels as he intently scanned her face. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Thirsty,” she answered automatically, barely getting the word past the scratchy dryness of her throat.

He reached for a canteen, and with one hand supporting her back, lifted it to her lips and allowed it to trickle into her mouth. “Easy,” he said, his voice a rough purr. “Not too fast.”

Once her thirst was quenched she turned her head and glanced down at Cat, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. Jake removed his hand and gently eased her back into her original position. A score of emotions fluttered through her, all too confusing to name.

Never before had Annie felt the way she did at that moment. Jake’s presence was inescapable, almost overpowering. His attention was too focused on her, his expression too intimate. She saw none of the haughtiness, the boredom, or the restlessness she had read in his face before. Instead he seemed genuinely concerned.

No matter where she looked, she couldn’t get away from the odd, indefinable light that filled his silvery-blue eyes. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies and she felt horribly exposed. She was awkwardly conscious of her hands, her hair, her clothing — none of which seemed to be in the right place, or looking as it should.

The moment stretched endlessly between them. Annie was aware that nothing was showing, that her shirt was properly fastened up to her throat, and that her blanket was tucked around her waist and securely covering her legs. But Jake had seen her naked, and that realization seemed to hang in the air between them. Maybe that was what had her so riled up.

Not that she entirely blamed herself for her moment of weakness. Jake was dressed in black pants, snugly fitted to encase his long legs, and a pale-blue shirt that brought out the icy glow in his eyes. The man was simply too virile, too potent, and too damned good-looking to be ignored. Especially when he was sitting so close to her. She shook off the thought, mentally squirming against the intimacy that suddenly weighed so heavily between them.