Chasing Rainbows Read online

  Thrown as it was in the heat of anger, the insult fell way off the mark. Annie was referring to the derringer pistols most gamblers hid beneath a ruffled sleeve or tucked within a vest pocket. Surprise was the key factor in determining the gun’s effectiveness. The dainty pieces fired just one round at a time and were accurate only at close range. Jake Moran obviously didn’t waste his time with them. He wore his six-shooters in plain view, one on each hip, and he looked like he knew how to use them. The lower ends of his holsters were lashed to his thighs with rawhide thongs to give him that extra speed on the draw that might make the difference between life and death. Something told her that precaution was a product of years of gunplay.

  Undaunted by her mistake, she continued recklessly, “I’ll get my Colts back, and you better watch out when I do. You just wait and see what happens then.” Rather than the ferocious growl she’d intended, her words ended in little more than a rough whisper.

  Without her voice to back her up, she glanced away in an attempt to underscore her threat. It was a tactical error on her part. Before she could guess his intention, Jake covered the distance between them with two long strides. One large hand came to rest on her shoulder while the fingers of his opposite hand brushed lightly along the base of her throat. Annie instinctively jerked from his touch, but the wall pressed against her back, leaving her no room to maneuver.

  “Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

  Except for the slight increase of pressure on her shoulder, presumably meant to steady her, Jake ignored her words. A slight frown drew between his brows as he studied her throat, then he glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff. “You have anything for this?”

  Sheriff Cayne lumbered toward his desk. “Might have some liniment somewhere in here.”

  “I said,” Annie whispered in a low growl, “get your hands off me.”

  Jake paid her no mind, his attention focused instead on Sheriff Cayne as he fumbled through a desk drawer. Well, Annie had given him fair warning. Twice. A sharp knee in the jewel sack might be just the thing to convince him that she meant business. She jerked up her leg, but Jake guessed her intention before she met her goal. He twisted to the side, pinning her body against the wall with his own. With one fluid move, he captured her wrists and held them above her head, effortlessly immobilizing them with just one hand.

  Annie struggled against him, her breath coming in short, furious gasps. But the harder she tried to break free, the closer he leaned into her body. Her breasts were crushed beneath his chest, her thighs trapped beneath his. The heady scent of his body seemed to wrap around her, draining her of all strength. Even as she fought his grip, she was uncomfortably aware of the ease with which he held her captive. The man was a towering mass of steel and muscle. Unwilling to concede defeat, she glared up into his icy blue eyes and shot him a look so full of unleashed fury it would have sent a lesser man running.

  Jake Moran simply smiled. “Enjoying yourself, darlin’?”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “You hear that, Sheriff?” Jake called. “She’s trying to sweet-talk me into letting her go.” He turned back to Annie, his gaze locking on hers. In a silky voice low enough for only her to hear, he said, “You want to play rough, Annie, so will I. I’d remember that if I were you.”

  Remember it? Hell, he couldn’t have knocked that thought out of her mind with a stick of dynamite. Not when he was pressing his body against hers as though he were trying to mold them into one. She clamped her jaw shut, swallowed her rage, and nodded tightly. “I’ll remember,” she forced out.

  “Good.” He released her hands and took a step backward.

  Annie ducked out beneath his arm, escaping to the far corner of the room. She wheeled around, her fists planted defiantly on her hips. “And here’s something for you to remember, mister,” she shot back. “You try that again, and I’ll bash in your skull.”

  The sheriff held up the liniment jar, a baffled expression on his face. “Jake was just trying to—”

  “I know what he was trying,” Annie interrupted, glaring at Jake “I don’t like to be touched. You got that, mister? I don’t like to be touched.” Despite her efforts to remain calm, her voice sounded tense and unnaturally shrill even to her own ears. With any luck, that would be attributed to her near miss with the noose rather than the turbulent state of her emotions.

  But one look at Jake Moran’s face instantly crushed that hope. His mouth tightened to a thin line as a look of grim understanding crossed his features. Fortunately the moment quickly passed. When he finally spoke, his tone was so flippant that Annie wondered if she had seen the reaction at all.

  “Suit yourself, darlin’. It’s your neck.”

  Pride brought up her chin. “That’s right, it is.”

  The door rattled and a blast of cool air filled the room. One of the sheriff’s deputies entered, hauling a drunk who looked the worse for wear after a brawl.

  With the attention momentarily shifted from her, Annie sank gratefully into a chair to compose herself. That fancy-pants gambler had rattled her more than she wanted to admit. Even as her heart pounded in her veins and her stomach churned with nausea, she fought to control her reaction. It wouldn’t do to show weakness, not now. But if given the choice between feeling a man’s hands on her skin and sitting in a tub of cold snakes, she would choose the snakes every time.

  Well, he wouldn’t get near her again — that was for damn sure. She would get her guns back eventually. Just let him try that little stunt of his then. She took a deep breath, allowing the calming thought to wash over her.

  Her mind otherwise occupied, she paid little attention to the conversation carrying on around her. Therefore it wasn’t the words that caught her attention as much as the sudden absence of them. Thick silence fell over the room. She looked up, finding all eyes focused expectantly on her.

  “What do you have to say about that?” the sheriff asked her.

  “About what?”

  Sheriff Cayne sighed and settled one bulky hip on his desk. He let out a stream of tobacco juice, expertly guiding it into the dull brass cuspidor near his feet. “I was saying that it was funny how Pete Mundy worked,” he repeated. “I remember when he and the boys weren’t no gang at all. Seems to me they were nothing but a bunch of misfits hiding out in the hills, rustling a few lame cattle and stealing gold dust from drunken miners. Then suddenly, about two years back, they smartened up and got sophisticated. Started pulling big money jobs that took brains and talent, things like holding up stages and robbing banks.”

  Annie shrugged. “Things change, I reckon.”

  “Things maybe, but not people,” the sheriff countered.

  She glanced over at Jake, watching as he removed a bag of tobacco from his vest pocket, rolled a cigarette, then placed it between his lips. He struck a sulfur match against his boot and raised the flame to the tip. Although his relaxed stance hadn’t changed, the subtle tensing of his jaw told her that he had more than a passing interest in the subject. He didn’t speak but simply regarded her with his cool, watchful gaze, as though weighing her every word.

  “Where can I find Pete Mundy?” Sheriff Cayne asked.

  Annie returned her attention to the sheriff. “Hell, I expect.”

  “You’re telling me that Pete’s dead?”

  “He’s dead,” she confirmed flatly. “So are the rest of the boys.”

  “That a fact?” The sheriff frowned, obviously dissatisfied with her answer. “The way I heard it, you and Pete were madly in love.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you’re still protecting him.” The sheriff paused a beat, then continued, “Lot of women might find that kind of life exciting. A handsome outlaw, a hideout in the woods, easy money…”

  “I’m not like a lot of women, Sheriff.”

  “I can’t argue that, now, can I?” Sheriff Cayne rose to his feet, placing his beefy hands on his hips. “You feel like telling me where the money from
that stage robbery might be?”

  She shrugged. “The boys weren’t exactly talkative about that sort of thing.”

  “And I suppose you’ve got no idea.”

  “Afraid not.”

  The sheriff studied her for a long, hard minute.

  “You’re the most contrary, mule-headed, disagreeable woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. You want to know why I didn’t let you swing today?”

  Annie brought up her chin. If he was expecting gratitude for parading her out in public and wringing her neck like a spring chicken, he had better think again. “Why?”

  “Because I believe you didn’t have anything to do with that robbery or killing those stage men. I believe you just got roped in with the wrong bunch of fellas. I don’t care what those jurymen said. Seems to me they wanted vengeance, not justice, and that’s not the way I run my town.”

  She studied him in silence, weighing the truth of his words.

  “Problem is,” he continued, “lot of folks might not be as levelheaded as I am. They might come after you, thinking if they can get you to talk, then they can get that stage robbery money for themselves. If you’re lying to me about that stage money, you’d better come clean. I don’t care how much money is buried out there, it won’t be worth it once they’re done with you. Some of them boys can get pretty rough, if you get my meaning.”

  Annie eyed him levelly. “I get your meaning.”

  “I hope so, missy, I surely do. But that’s something you don’t want to test. Why don’t you just tell me where to find that money? You’ll walk out of here free and clear, and there’ll be no reason for anybody to come looking for you.”

  A bitter smile curved her lips as sudden comprehension came over her. “So that’s what this is all about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want me to buy my freedom. Hand over that stage robbery money to you, and in return, you’ll let me just ride out of town. Nice little plan. Sorry I can’t help you out, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  Sheriff Cayne’s ruddy cheeks darkened. “You accusing me of wanting to keep that money for myself?”

  Annie shrugged. “A dog’s hind legs ain’t as crooked as most lawmen I know.”

  “That money belongs to the God-fearing hardworking folks who live in this town. If you’ve got a decent bone in your body, missy, you’ll see to it that they get their money back.”

  “That’s my goal in life, Sheriff, to make them happy. The same folks who wanted to string me up twice. Cuando las ranas crienpoco..”

  The sheriff s brows drew together. “What’s that, Mexican?”

  “I think she’s trying to say,” Jake translated, a hint of amusement playing about his features, “cuando las ranas crienpelo. ‘When frogs grow hair.’”

  His Spanish, Annie noted, was smooth and rolling. Just the way Diego had tried to teach her to speak, though she’d never quite been able to get the hang of it.

  The sheriff let out an exasperated breath and said to Jake, “If she changes her mind and suddenly remembers where to find the money from that stage, you let me know.”

  Jake nodded in easy agreement. While he had remained attentive to the conversation, Annie saw none of the keen intensity that had been in his eyes while they were discussing Pete and the boys. It was subtle difference, but it was there. The gambler was clearly more interested in the gang itself than in the twenty-five thousand in federal greenbacks that was missing from the stage robbery.

  While Annie mulled that over, Sheriff Cayne turned to his deputy. “Run over to Ella’s Cafe and have her make up a few sandwiches for tonight. Then go by the general store and pick up some supplies. Enough to see the two of them as far as Aquio Pass.” He opened a desk drawer, removed a bill from a tin can, and passed it to his deputy. “I reckon that ought to cover it.” The deputy pocketed the money and swung out the door.

  The sheriff turned next to Jake. Moving with an unexpected dexterity for a man of his bulk, he reached into the gambler’s vest and plucked free his wallet. He let out a low whistle as he thumbed through the bills. “Not bad. Must be at least three thousand in here.”

  “Twenty-eight hundred and some change,” Jake corrected. He crossed his arms over his chest and propped one broad shoulder against the wall. Although his tone and posture implied a calm acceptance of Sheriff Cayne’s action, the simmering tension that radiated across the room was unmistakable. “You want to explain yourself, Roy?”

  “Just taking out a little insurance, Jake. I made a promise that Annabel Lee Foster would get to Cooperton, and I aim to see that it’s done right. I can’t have you changing your mind two days out and riding off. I’ve got nothing to hold you to your promise.”

  “You have my word,” the gambler answered tightly, looking like a man who expected that to mean something.

  “A man tends to forget his word unless there’s something holding him to it.”

  “Don’t worry, mister,” Annie cooed, unable to hide her delight at this new turn of events. “The sheriff’s a reasonable fella. If you’re a real good boy and don’t cause him no trouble, I’m sure he’ll give it back to you. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”

  Sheriff Cayne reddened and muttered indignantly that that was exactly what he intended to do. “It’s just a precaution, you understand. You have the sheriff in Cooperton wire me once the two of you have arrived, and I’ll see to it that you get back every penny.”

  “Sure you will,” Jake replied.

  The sheriff didn’t miss the implied insult. He sent him a disgusted look. “Now, that’s real trusting. Nice world you live in, Jake.”

  “It’s the only one that would have me.”

  The sheriff held up the wallet. “You thinking about changing your mind, now’s the time to do it. Otherwise I’m gonna hold this for collateral until you get to Cooperton.”

  Jake lifted his shoulders in an indifferent shrug, apparently concluding that the money was a matter of small concern. “I wouldn’t dream of abandoning Miss Foster,” he said smoothly. “Not when she’s already developed such an obvious affection for me.”

  Annie turned away, pointedly ignoring his mocking words. When she glanced out the window a few minutes later, she saw the deputy returning, a sack of supplies in one hand, and the reins of her mare in the other. Her heart gave a little leap at the sight of Dulcie. Until that moment, she hadn’t truly believed that Sheriff Cayne meant to let her go. She’d figured the odds of that happening were slimmer than a bar of soap after a week’s worth of washing. Clearly she’d been wrong.

  She looked at the sheriff and, receiving his silent nod of assent, stepped outside the tiny jailhouse and into the street. Pale October sunshine hit her face. A crisp breeze tousled her hair, carrying with it all the scents of fall: wet leaves, smoky bonfires, freshly cut cords of wood, fruit pies baked with cloves and cinnamon. Annie stood perfectly still, drinking it in. Sheriff Cayne hadn’t been lying after all. This was her chance. An honest-to-God new chance to start her life over.

  Wary that her joy might spill over and show on her face, she moved toward Dulcie and gently pressed her cheek against the mare’s mane, hiding her emotions. After a moment, she felt a slight pressure against her calf and looked down to see a familiar bundle of knotted white fur. She reached down and scooped the cat into her arms.

  The scrappy feline had kept her company during the long nights before the hanging. The cat usually appeared after midnight, climbing in through an office window while the deputy snored away at his desk. Using leftover bits of supper as bait to draw her closer, Annie had slowly earned the animal’s trust. The cat had eventually allowed Annie to pet her and, once or twice, had even spent the night curled up at the foot of her cell bed.

  As Annie gently stroked the cat, a shadow crossed her face, blocking out the sun. She looked up to see Jake and the sheriff towering over her, both men scowling at the furry bundle she held.

  The sheriff spoke first. “That’s got to be the sorriest-l
ooking beast I’ve ever seen.”

  Annie frowned as she considered the statement. The cat had obviously clawed and fought to get by, and it showed. Her fur was matted with knots, her tail was broken and bent at a right angle to the ground. A tuft of fur sprang from a scar above her left eye like a haughtily arched brow, giving her a cynical, slightly superior expression.

  Annie shrugged off the imperfections. “Has she got a name?” she asked.

  Sheriff Cayne let out a choked laugh. “I don’t think you want to know what the boys and I call her.”

  “Who does she belong to?”

  “Who would want her? That thing’s half-wild.”

  That settled it. “I’m taking her with me,” she announced impulsively.

  “Absolutely not,” Jake said.

  Annie glared up at him. “I wasn’t asking.” She nuzzled the cat against her cheek, coaxing a thick, rumbling purr from deep within the animal’s throat. “Besides, she likes me.”

  Jake instantly dismissed that. “You’ve been feeding her.”

  She held the cat toward him. The unruly feline immediately arched her back and began to hiss, swiping one sharp claw his way. Annie smiled and rewarded the behavior with slow, soothing strokes. “Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” she replied smugly.

  Holding her new pet tightly, she slid her boot into the stirrup and mounted Dulcie. She gave Jake a long, hard look, then turned to Sheriff Cayne to make one final appeal.

  “I don’t need an escort, Sheriff. I can make it to Cooperton on my own. And I sure as hell don’t need Mr. Fancy-Pants here tagging along and slowing me down.”

  “I don’t reckon you’ve got much choice in the matter,” the sheriff countered. “I want you out of the territory, missy, and I aim to see that it’s done right. If Jake don’t take you, I’ll have to send one of my deputies, and my men are working double time as it is.”

  Now that Annie was actually convinced that the sheriff meant to let her go, she mentally debated the wisdom of having Jake accompany her. If she had to have an escort, she would probably be better off with one of the sheriff’s men. It would be fairly simple to manipulate any of his addle-brained deputies. Jake Moran, on the other hand, looked about as easy to push around as a Texas longhorn with a case of indigestion.