Chasing Rainbows (7 page)

Annie took in his body in a glance. After years of doctoring up the boys in the gang, the sight of a man in his natural state was no longer shocking to her. But looking at Jake in just his boots and hat stirred a heated curiosity within her that she had never felt when tending the boys’ wounds.

While his smooth manners, tailored clothing, and fluid movements had served to give him the appearance of lean brawn, his naked body told quite a different story. In truth, Jake Moran had a rugged frame that was magnificently, powerfully built. Tight, rippling muscles defined his biceps and forearms. His chest was impossibly broad and dusted with a light, downy mist of fine, dark hair. His stomach was washboard flat, his waist and hips lean and narrow. Long, powerfully sculpted thighs tapered down to smooth, round knees and thickly muscled calves.

Her eyes moved reluctantly away from his body to study his face. The cocky smile, ice-blue eyes, and dark, silky hair were no different than before. Yet his striking masculine beauty seemed more oddly compelling now, when he stood before her naked. Annie pondered that discovery in silence. The raw appeal of his natural physical attributes formed a package that was as tempting as sin on a Saturday night. That is, if she were interested in the man. Which, of course, she absolutely, definitely was not. It simply surprised her that the slick-talking gambler wasn’t as difficult to look at as she might have suspected.

“You coming out now, darlin’, or would you like me to come in and get you?”

His words snapped her out of her reverie. Annie jerked down low in the water, splashing steamy bubbles against her chin. “You stay right there, mister.”

Jake tipped back his hat as a slow grin spread across his face. “You planning on staying in there until you prune up?”

Maybe, Annie thought. Given her alternatives, it wasn’t such a bad idea. Looking at Jake in all his naked glory hadn’t been too hard to stomach. But the thought of him looking at her — now, that was a problem. Unwilling to dwell on that mortifying prospect, she turned her attention to more practical matters. “That low-down thief get away?” she asked.

“With both horses and everything on them. I left my boots and hat over by that rock.” he said, gesturing vaguely behind him. “What about you? Anything you want me to look for?”

“My shoes,” she answered, pointing toward an outcropping of sagebrush. Everything else she’d worn had been folded and stacked neatly atop her saddle. Jake nodded and turned in the direction she had indicated. As he strode away, she noted the long, muscular lines of his broad back, the lean taper of his narrow waist and hips… and the perfectly formed curve of his tight, masculine buttocks.

Annie squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the image out of her mind. With all the problems she currently faced, the last thing she needed to think about now was Jake Moran’s naked butt.

He returned seconds later, depositing her shoes near the edge of the spring. Annie kept her eyes determinedly lowered, her gaze steadfastly focused on the tips of his boots.

“Well?” he drawled.

“Well, what?”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

The earth to open up and swallow me
, she fumed silently. Or better yet, for the earth to open and swallow this fancy-pants, too-good-looking-for-his-own-good gambler. But since that didn’t seem likely to happen — her luck had been on a sort of a downswing for the past dozen years or so — the only real alternative was for her to stand up, get out of the spring, and try to track down Dulcie.

Knowing that was one thing; actually doing it was something else altogether. As Diego might have said, she was
entre la espada y la pared.
“Between the sword and the wall.”

Annie took a deep breath and steeled herself. Granted, she’d seen nothing in Jake’s personality that would indicate he might come after her, but that didn’t mean anything. He was still a man, and that was what counted. He was no different than Snakeskin Garvey. Even Pete Mundy had been charming in his day, a pretty boy with thick blond hair and manners slicker than wet riverbed stone. But when Pete got mad or drunk… well, that was something else.

“Turn around,” she barked at Jake, tunneling her fear into brusqueness.

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

Once his back was turned, Annie scurried out of the spring, grabbed her shoes, and ducked behind a thick grove of blue spruce. She emerged minutes later with her shoes fastened tightly and a long-needled branch held before her like a lofty, oversized fan. She clenched a rock in her opposite fist, using it as a makeshift means of protection and defense. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do. She nervously cleared her throat, signaling her presence to Jake.

“You better not get any funny ideas, mister.”

“Believe me, darlin’, there’s nothing funny about being stuck out here with—”

Whatever words he might have intended to finish that thought with were lost as he glanced over his shoulder at her. For the first time since she had met him, the cocky expression that had seemed permanently fixed to his features faded away. A quiet intensity darkened his eyes as his gaze traveled briefly over her body. While there was nothing lewd or threatening in his look, Annie was all too aware of what he was seeing. The thick limb screened her breasts, stomach, and the tops of her thighs, but the coverage it afforded was minimal at best. Gaps between the needles and branches did nothing to hide the shadowy curves of her form and various bare expanses of skin.

She shifted uncomfortably as a cool breeze swept over her body. Her legs were completely exposed, as were her arms and backside. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders and drifted down her back in a thick, tousled mass. Night would be falling shortly, but that fact did her little good now. The dusky afternoon light afforded ample opportunity to view nearly every shameful inch of her unclothed figure. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that she wasn’t given to blushing; otherwise she would doubtless be as red as a berry patch in August by now.

Jake studied her for a long moment in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally he suggested, “Maybe you ought to wait here while I go after him.”

She stubbornly shook her head. “That no-account thief got my money, my deed, my horse, and my clothes. I’m going — with or without you.”

His familiar grin slowly returned as an expression that looked almost like approval entered his eyes. “You’ve got guts, darlin’, I’ll give you that.”

Annie brought up her chin and stated the obvious. “I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Jake walked a few paces ahead of Annie, silently studying the ground as he followed the horse thief’s tracks. Not only did he feel like a complete jackass, he knew he looked the part. A cursory search of the abandoned mining shed had revealed a pair of moth-eaten red-flannel drawers, which he had gratefully claimed for himself. His entire ensemble now consisted of his boots, underwear (complete with a breezy rear “trapdoor” which was missing half the buttons), and his hat.

For Annie, they’d found an old saddle blanket that was dried stiff with sweat and mud, and torn a slit in the middle. She wore the blanket serape style, draped over her shoulders like a coarse, oversized cape. While the garment didn’t cover her completely — her forearms and calves were still openly exposed — it was a hell of a lot better than that old spruce branch.

Jake shook his head at the memory of her stepping out before him outfitted in nothing but a few spiky spruce needles. If the woman had meant to shock him, it had worked. If she’d meant to seduce him, that damned sure would have worked as well. Outlaw Annie had a body that would stop a downhill-running, coal-fired, brakes-busted freight train.

Her breasts were full and round, her waist tiny, her stomach flat, and her hips had a graceful, gentle swell. Her lush figure showed none of the plump, fleshy softness so often seen in barmaids or ladies of leisure. Annie rode hard and lived hard, and it showed. Her skin was taut and smooth; her body was sculpted with long, feminine muscles that served as a luscious counterpoint to her fluid curves. Despite the flimsy branch she’d used to shield herself, Jake had had a clear view of nearly every exquisite inch. And what he couldn’t see… well, he had no trouble imagining.

But seducing him had obviously not been Annie’s intention. In fact, just the opposite was true. She had stood before him with the tree limb clutched in one hand and the rock tightly fisted in the other — fully prepared to take out after the thief who’d stolen her horse. All in all, she’d presented an affecting image of courage and an odd, almost belligerent vulnerability. As if she’d known she would lose but was determined to go down fighting. That kind of bravery was rare enough in men; Jake had never seen anything like it before in a woman.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Annie stomped along behind him with Cat trailing at her heels. She didn’t voice a complaint even though they had been walking for more than two hours over rough terrain, it was growing bitterly cold, and night was quickly falling. That in itself served to earn her a tiny measure of Jake’s grudging respect. But it did absolutely nothing to help their situation.

He drew to a halt and scanned the ground. Light was fading a little more with every passing minute. Reluctant as he was to stop, it was better to wait and push on at dawn than to attempt to track a man in the dark. “Looks like we make camp,” he said. “We keep going much longer and we’ll lose him completely.”

Annie studied the ground and nodded, clearly as adverse to stopping as he had been but equally aware that they had little choice in the matter.

He searched the horizon, looking for a sheltered spot to bed down for the night, when a faint glow in the distance caught his eye. Glancing over at Annie, he noted that her gaze was fixed on the same point. “Any idea what town that might be?” Jake asked.

“Nope.”

“Me neither.” He studied the distant shimmer of light, thinking. “Hell, I guess it doesn’t matter. Let’s give it a try.”

Annie’s brows snapped together. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “We’re staying right here, right on that thief’s tracks. I ain’t about to risk losing him.”

Jake studied her in astonishment, amazed at what he considered her total disregard for reality. “Darlin’, have you really looked at either one of us lately? Supposing we do catch up with him at dawn — then what the hell are we gonna do? Threaten to beat him up with my boots if he doesn’t return our property? We do that and the only chance we’ll have of getting away with our lives is if he’s laughing too hard to aim properly when he tries to shoot us.”

Annie balled her hands into little fists and set them on her hips. “All right, mister, if you’re so smart, what’s your plan?”

“We go into town, get us both some clothes, some guns and ammunition, and maybe even a horse. It sure as hell beats freezing out here all night, then tracking him unarmed and on foot.”

“We don’t have any money. You forgetting that?”

Jake tilted his head toward the town. “That’s probably some mining camp we’re looking at. That means it’s going to be nearly all men. And if it’s nearly all men, that means there’s going to be a saloon.”

“So?”

“So if there’s a saloon, you can be damned sure there’s somebody playing poker.” A slow, contented smile drifted across his face. “C’mon, darlin’. It’s time to go water the money tree.”

The mining town was about what Annie had expected. Main Street was lined on either side with a blacksmith, land office, general mercantile, stable, undertaker, and, just as Jake had predicted, a saloon. Horses and pack mules crowded the hitching posts. The ground was sodden, squashing beneath her feet in a liquid mire of mud and horse manure. Hogs rooted in the street, and chickens walked between the buildings clucking and pecking. A few stray dogs, drunken miners, and a fiery-eyed preacher who stood on a street corner and shouted his sermon of hell and brimstone to random passersby completed the scene.

Annie took that all in stride. But what proved difficult for her to endure were the catcalls, whistles, and shouts that were directed at her and Jake. It seemed as though every man in town flooded outside just to witness the two of them stroll nearly naked down Main Street. Annie clamped her jaw shut and tilted her chin, refusing to pay them any mind. As for Jake, he appeared completely immune to public humiliation. He strode through town as though he’d just been elected mayor, acknowledging every hoot and holler with a grin and a polite tip of his hat.

Finally they reached the saloon and stepped inside. The interior was as rough and crude as the exterior. The furnishings were simple: a hard-packed dirt floor, a makeshift bar comprised of a sheet of lumber balanced atop two hefty beer barrels, a few tables and chairs, and smoky kerosene lanterns hanging from nails in the bare walls. A cast-iron stove tucked in the corner radiated minimal amounts of heat. The place smelled of damp earth, fresh-cut pine, unwashed bodies, and lamp oil.

Roughly twenty men, including the bartender, lounged about inside. Within seconds of then entrance, Jake and Annie were greeted with the same wide-eyed wonder and lewd comments they had received on the street.

“Looks like you lost your britches, mister!”

“Looks like your lady friend lost even more than that!”

“Why don’t you come on inside and let us warm you up, sweet thing?”

Jake doffed his hat and gave a deep, dramatic bow, smiling patiently as the bawdy jests continued. Annie stood behind him, unable to emulate his good-natured indifference to the raucous laughter. It was all fine and well for Jake Moran to act the part of the town buffoon, but she wanted nothing to do with it. She was already getting far more attention than she liked from the male population in town.

Once the noise had died down, the bartender asked flatly, “What the hell happened to you two?”

Jake briefly related how their horses, gear, and clothing had been stolen back at the hot springs.

The bartender, a beefy fellow with swarthy skin and dark eyes, nodded in commiseration. “There’s a group been rustling cattle all over these parts. Some say they’re Mexican
banditos
, some say they’re renegade Apaches. They hide out in the canyons east of town. Damned sheriff’s too yellow-bellied to put together a posse and go after them.”