Rebel with a Cause Page 13

  With the excitement over, the crowd began to break up. Some wandered off with shaking heads, others with shaking fists. The weeping mother had been revived and was being escorted home by the younger women.

  Heartache seemed to be a living presence following the bereft widow home. How could Missy ever have imagined there would be great adventure in the event? Suzie would never be thrilled to read of it.

  Zane had warned her that this was something she would not want to see. What a fool she must have appeared. In the dime novels, no one ever wrote about grieving mothers.

  Tears burned behind Missy's eyes while she gathered up Daisy and Ace's reins. Even though she had promised to remain inside, she didn't want Zane to encounter the liveryman.

  "Come, Ace. Come, Daisy," she said. The horses followed her out the livery doors with amazing obedience.

  "Damned filth," the livery owner grumbled as she passed him.

  Red-hot anger throbbed in Missy's cheeks. If she were a man she would lay the fellow flat out cold with a blow to the chin.

  "That boy was a criminal." She gave the hay-dusted liveryman a glare. "Don't pretend you won't be grateful that it won't be your place he robs next."

  "A pair of turds boilin' in a pot is what you are," he mumbled then walked back into the shadowy barn. "Never should have sold you the Muddy."

  So this was Zane's life. No wonder he saw the world as bitterly as he did.

  The marshal's door opened and Zane stepped out on the boardwalk. He glanced about with harsh sunlight revealing deep creases at the corners of his eyes. Dark grooves cut the edges of his mouth.

  When he noticed Missy coming forward, leading the horses, the bleakness in his gaze eased for an instant.

  She dug deep for a smile, hoping on the butterfly moon that it would look heartening, that it would be what

  he needed.

  Chapter Ten

  "The stable owner did call her Big Muddy," Missy told him.

  Zane watched her lips twitch as though she were trying desperately to hide her mirth while she stared at her horse rolling belly-up on the muddy bank of the creek.

  The mare had turned out to be quicker than she looked. No sooner had he unsaddled the horses for the evening than Daisy trotted to the creek and began a high time in the muck. By damn, the animal looked as pleased as a fly in butter.

  "No, Muff, no!" Missy cried out. The dog raced toward Daisy, yipping and yapping.

  With her arms waving and her skirts flying, Missy chased him. Four short legs proved to be quicker than two taller ones. Missy trailed in the race by several yards.

  "Come, Muff, come!" she yelled.

  After this morning's business Zane had expected to be in a black mood for days, but only hours later he felt the shadow of his job lifting. Watching Missy, her dog and her horse brought him within an inch of a smile.

  Muff reached the mud a leap and a skid ahead of Missy.

  "Oh, you little imp!" She slammed her hands on her hips, glaring while the pup found a spot of green-brown ooze and mimicked the horse's roll.

  Missy spun about, her lips thin with vexation and the laughter snuffed from her eyes. Evidently, what was laughable in a horse was not laughable in a white dog.

  "I'll set up camp while you tend to your animals," he said in a voice a bit gruffer than he felt.

  He'd sent a boy off to trial and likely prison this morning, he had no business feeling amused this soon, like a man with no remorse.

  It wasn't that the kid didn't deserve what he got--he'd earned his due, but it was a sad thing to see a life go bad so young. The memory of the mother and sisters bearing the burden of sorrow would likely keep him sleepless tonight.

  He'd experienced the ugly side of his job enough times to know that Missy would not find him fit company again this evening.

  He started a fire, dug through his pack for beans and jerky, and then set a pot of coffee on to boil.

  This was the time he dreaded the most. Even Missy and her misbehaving animals would do little to lighten it.

  He sat down with his back to the stream, staring at the fire until the land grew dark and the flames turned bright. He listened to the crickets take up their night song. Near the stream he heard splashing water and Missy's voice go from stern to a soft croon.

  Apparently, Muff had been forgiven. What might life be like if a man could be so freely forgiven? The widow and her kin would be cursing him tonight, not forgiving...never forgiving.

  Life would be easier if he took up another occupation. He could open a store, be a banker or farmer. Folks would thank him after a long day's work. Their thanks would be mean nothing, though, in the deep of the night when he felt his mother's dying breath under his cheek, when he heard the rasp of it choking her life away.

  No, he could never take the comfortable way. His peace would always come at the cost of another's freedom. But, as tonight would prove, there really was no peace. His bank account might be comfortable, but not his soul.

  Footsteps tapped the earth, coming away from the creek. Cotton rustled, which he guessed was Missy drying off her dog. Full dark pressed down on the prairie, except for a fat full moon on the rise and the small circle of light pushing out from the campfire.

  "Take off your clothes, Zane." Missy's hand squeezed his shoulder. "Let's go swimming."

  He could not have been more startled if Ace had suddenly asked to go for a run in the moonlight.

  "It's crazy warm for this time of year," she said leaning close to his ear. A tendril of silky hair tickled his cheek. "Come on, it'll be fun."

  Swimming with a beautiful woman and only starlight to guide one's conscience might be considered fun, or it might be considered wicked.

  "That water is colder than you think." He jerked his shoulder to dislodge her tempting fingers. "I'll sit tight, here by the fire."

  "Cold water warms right up once a person starts splashing."

  Splashing, and touching, wet skin sliding over wet skin was probably not the kind of fun Missy had in mind, but it's the kind that had his hands itching and his mind simmering. He had enough sins to deal with tonight without adding the seduction of an innocent.

  "You go on. The fire suits me fine."

  "Sulking over things that can't be changed never did a body any good." Missy sighed, sounding defeated. Muff trotted toward the fire and curled into a sleepy puff. "But as long as you're at it, keep a eye on Muff, will you? He's had more fun today than I can abide."

  Keeping watch over the dog might be the one thing that would get Zane into the water. Bearing responsibility for that ball of mischief would land any man on his feet. Luckily, for the moment, the pup looked like a pile of lamb's wool dozing soundly next to the fire.

  Since the dog didn't stir when coyotes half a mile out began their mournful yipping, Zane didn't either.

  One thing Missy had been right about, though, it had been hot for this early in the year. Even after sundown the earth held on to the heat. Tonight's campfire was strictly for protection and warming beans and coffee.

  Zane unbuttoned his shirt, wishing for a breeze to cool his skin. He heard a big splash in the creek, as though Missy had jumped in all at once.

  Of course, she would have. Missy Lenore Devlin was not one to do anything by cautious steps.

  He heard laughter and more splashing. Here was a woman who dove into life head first and came up laughing. He tried not to wonder, but he did, what it would be like to make love to such a female. Would she sigh her passion and cry out with joy at every new and unfamiliar touch? Would she demand all of him? He knew she would, and would give back as much in return.

  This was a trail his mind shouldn't be traveling, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if she had taken off all her clothes before she jumped in the water.

  He stripped off his shirt.

  "You're missing some fun!" she called out.

  Frogs at the creek bank croaked out mating calls to each other. Zane pulled off his boots, seeking some cooli
ng relief, although the heat came from his brain as much as the waning day.

  If the pictures playing in his mind were happening at the creek, he didn't dare turn to look, but he wanted to so badly that his eyeballs burned.

  He would have left his pants on if she hadn't started to hum in a low, sweet voice that made the frogs stop to listen. But she did and he tossed them clear over the campfire, his denims and his red knitted drawers both at the same time.

  * * *

  The creek was just deep enough for Missy to float and the current slow enough that by fluttering her hands she remained in place.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the ripple of the water pulse under her back. The threads of her chemise washed across her breasts, twisting across her nipples like tickling feathers.

  With her eyes shut, the world seemed to become more vibrant. With sound as her predominant sense she listened to a chorus of frogs and decided that they croaked a melody as sweet as any parlor serenade. Crickets joined in the symphony, their chirrups quick with the warm weather.

  A breeze must have come up. Grass whispered and sighed. She imagined it as the applause to the frog-and-cricket lullaby.

  From way out, a cow mooed. This time she would be careful and not let the stealthy beast sneak up on her. At the first sign of invasion, she would rush for her dress.

  Weightless in the water, Missy let her body and her mind drift. If she tried to capture the night tune on a piano keyboard, what notes would she use?

  She began to hum, trying to figure it out. The water rippling past gathered her shift over her thighs and her belly. The wispy fabric caught beneath her breasts, leaving her lower half bare to the grin of the man in the moon.

  She could wiggle out from the garment altogether and it wouldn't matter. Zane was stuck in his misery up at the campfire. Her privacy wouldn't be invaded.

  All at once the frogs became quiet.

  Drat! That cow couldn't have gotten here already. Missy pinched her eyes tight, clinging to the peaceful moment. If the bovine wandered into camp Muff would bark or Zane would rouse himself and chase it off.

  A pair of splashes rippled the surface of the water; no doubt frogs were fleeing a small night predator. She waved her arms in the water to maintain her float.

  Something solid brushed against her hand. Something warm and muscular. She stroked the backs of her fingers against...a knee!

  Her eyes popped open and she lost her float. Her rump hit the bottom of the creek with a soft thud.

  It was Zane, all of him, with nothing between her stare and his privacy. She studied his bare knees for half an instant before letting her gaze travel upward.

  She blinked hard to get the water out of her eyes. Thighs so hard and lean needed to be appreciated without creek water smudging the view.

  He stood straight. The light of the rising moon reflected off the sheen of perspiration glistening on his skin. Something inside her belly began to curl. It wasn't only his posture that was straight. All of him looked straight and hard as could be. The curling sensation twisted clear to her nether parts.

  With some effort she forced her gaze up, lingering only a moment on his flat, tanned belly. She stared at his well-muscled chest. It had to be an illusion that she could see his ribs thump with his heartbeat.

  If she weren't convinced that this was her forever man, she would have modestly glanced away. But something in her soul recognized that those strapping arms would hold her for many years to come. For thousands of nights in her future she would snuggle into the sanctuary of his embrace.

  He might not understand it yet, but his eyes gave him away. They stared down at her with the passion of a man for a woman, to be sure. But more than that, he looked at her with possession, like a man for his mate.

  Since she couldn't think of a single thing to say to express those profound thoughts, she splashed and grinned.

  She kicked her feet and flailed her arms, then stopped to admire the results of her watery attack.

  Water dripped from his nose and his fingertips. It washed over his stomach without altering the stiffness of his posture or...anything else that was stiff.

  Except his smile. He seemed to be trying to hold on to a scowl, but his lips quirked up at the corners and gave him away.

  "Do you surrender already?" She threw out the challenge.

  "Never." His answer rumbled deep in his chest.

  He came down in the water inch by inch, like a predator toying with its prey.

  Missy felt giddy with the game. "Oh, please, Mr. Predator, have mercy on this defenseless little mouse."

  "Defenseless little mouse, my Aunt Hattie!" All at once he lunged, taking them both under the water.

  Missy came up coughing and laughing. She cupped her hands and poured water over his soaking black hair.

  He laughed and did the same to her. She wasn't sure she had ever heard him sound like that. Like pure joy shook him to his soul.

  In order to keep him doing it, she jumped astride his lap and ruffled his hair with both hands. She scooped up handful after handful of water and dribbled it over his face.

  At some point she noticed that he had quit laughing. In the next instant she realized that her bare feminine folds sat smack on top of the part of him that hadn't grown soft in the water.

  "I didn't mean to..." Her voice felt thick and slow.

  She tried to move, to free him from the embarrassing position she had landed him in, but he grasped her waist, holding her still.

  He moved his hips, sliding their bodies against each other. Missy's heart popped into her throat.

  Calloused hands crept up her ribs and she could have easily moved off his lap, but she didn't. He gathered the fabric of her shift with the upward stroke of his fingers. He lifted it over her head and tossed it toward the bank.

  He went still beneath her but his hands caressed her shoulders. His thumbs stroked her collarbone in little circles then traced a curly trail toward the top of her breasts. She wanted to close her eyes to better feel the touch of his rough thumbs against her flesh, but she couldn't.

  She had become spellbound. Enchantment held her tongue against any maidenly protest. Sitting utterly still, she watched Zane's palms rub her nipples. Moonlight illuminated his fingers, dark against her pale flesh, petting and kneading. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. Nothing, that is, until he pressed his hands to her back and pulled her to his mouth.

  Her eyelids dipped and her breath came thick and heavy. Someone moaned, but she couldn't tell who.

  One of Zane's hands stoked her ribs, her waist then her bare bottom. He moved beneath her, sliding against that part of her that had suddenly become the very compelling center of her attention.

  She had become a wanton woman, too impatient to wait for her wedding night. Years ago, she'd overheard Edwin laughing with a friend about how first babies don't take as long. Now she understood why. It would be much more interesting to take the path that her body urged than to run for maidenly cover.

  "What about you, Missy, do you surrender?"

  "Yes...no, I want to." She felt confused, her body pulling one way and her intelligence another. "I will, but not now."

  "Don't you want me, darlin'?" His breath blew hot in her ear.

  "I want you." She slid off his lap, putting a foot of breathing room between them. "I just want more than you can give me right now."

  Missy couldn't help leaning her head against his palm when he caressed the back of her neck.

  "I can give you everything...right here and right now."

  "Can you give me forever, Zane? Have you seen the butterfly moon?"

  "You know there is no such thing," he said, leaning closer while she leaned back. "There's just you and me and this long, dark night."

  "There's a marriage bed and a house full of babies."

  Zane dropped his hand in the water with a splash and backed away. "Not for me, darlin'. I live a hard life."

  "I saw that this morning." Missy brushed a hank
of dripping hair away from his cheek. "I also saw that you hate it. You could make a living some other way."

  Even in the dark she could see him considering his words. "I like the money bounty-hunting brings in... Missy, have you even considered how you'd feel always waiting on me, wondering if I'd even come home?"

  Just as Suzie, mother and Edwin were likely doing at this very moment, waiting and worrying about her? She made a vow in her heart to send a quick wire when they got to the next town to assure them she was doing well.

  "Having lots of money can be tiresome," she said. "It can bind a person just like being poor can."

  Sitting still and naked in the water made the night seem suddenly cold. Chilly bumps prickled her skin. She tried to rub them away but they stood as stiff as toy soldiers.

  "And you know plenty about being poor, I suppose," he said.

  "I don't know a thing about it, I only know that money can't make you happy, not in some ways that truly count."

  "That's pie in the sky, Missy. It hurts being a kid and not knowing where your next meal is coming from, if it even is."

  She wouldn't know how that felt. She had never gone hungry for a single meal, neither had the children of the hired help.

  "Were you wealthy before your uncle, when your parents were alive?"

  "No," he said softly and his expression lost its hard, resentful lines.

  "Were you happy?"

  "I was." He gave up a reluctant smile.

  "Tell me about your mother. She must have been a wonderful woman."

  Zane's smile faded. He looked like a man caught between joy and sorrow. "I don't talk about the past."

  "Maybe it's time you did."

  A wolf howled far out and a calf bawled closer in. Zane sat stiff and silent.

  "Does it hurt so much to remember those good times with her?"

  "Like hell. I can't think of those times without thinking of the other."

  "Tell me, Zane. What happened to your mother?"

  "It's getting cold." Zane started to get up. Missy cursed herself for pushing him too far. Maybe she ought to learn to leave some things alone.

  To her surprise, he moved behind her and sat with his naked thighs bracing her on both sides. He wrapped his arms across her chest and put his chin on her shoulder. His beard stubble felt nice and scratchy on her bare skin.