Chasing Rainbows Read online

  “I don’t suppose a man like you has a wife waiting for him at home somewhere,” she suggested to Jake, offering him a reason to decline the trip.

  A look of genuine amusement crossed his face at her none too subtle ploy to get rid of him. “I’m afraid that my devotion to the fairer sex is far too profound to be exhausted by a single object.”

  Annie snorted. “You mean you like tom-cattin’ around too much.”

  “That too, darlin’.” Jake swung effortlessly into the saddle of his dark bay. “You may as well get used to me. Until we reach Cooperton, I’ll be closer to you than a mama bear to her baby cubs.”

  Annie made a face that clearly expressed her disgust.

  Jake shrugged and adjusted his Stetson. “It might not be that bad. Who knows? Could be we’ll even get along.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it, mister.”

  Amusement once again softened his features. He spurred his horse, easing the bay into a gentle trot.

  “Neither would I, darlin’. Neither would I.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake Moran had been dealt some bad hands in his lifetime, but this one had to beat all. Escorting Outlaw Annie to Cooperton. Hell of a fool idea. Even if nothing went wrong, the journey would still take them at least two weeks. Jake shook his head — the odds of nothing going wrong while he was traveling with Miss Annabel Lee Foster were slim to none.

  Their journey was already cursed. Weed had thrown a shoe, their supply sack had burst open and emptied out on the trail, and Annie’s mangy alley cat had wandered off and gotten lost for over an hour. The miles they had covered that day had been negligible. They had made camp at dusk less than ten miles outside of Stony Gulch. At that rate, they would be lucky to reach Cooperton before the first snowfall.

  Jake sat with his back supported by a flat rock, his long legs stretched out before him. He held a flask of bourbon between his legs and took slow, pensive sips as he considered his options. He could ride flat out come morning; head north, or maybe go back East. But that would still leave the problem of that damned wanted poster with his face splashed all over it. Sooner or later, the law would catch up with him. In fact, he’d taken a hell of a chance with Sheriff Cayne. If that poster had reached Stony Gulch before Jake did, chances were real good that the sheriff would have invited him to take Annie’s place in the jailhouse cell.

  With a murder charge hanging over his head, the stakes were too high for Jake to simply ride away. The only chance he had of clearing his name was to find the Mundy Gang — and that meant he had no choice but to play his cards close to his chest and stick by Annie.

  Well, he did have one other choice, he amended silently. He could ride back to Gunpowder Falls and turn himself in. But Jake had never been overly confident of the justice process. Particularly in the ability of a tiny, one-horse town — a town known for its harshness and brutality rather than its legal sensibilities — to convene and hold a fair trial.

  It wasn’t that Jake had never killed before. He had done plenty of that; more than he wanted to remember. But he had never gunned anybody down in a dark alley behind a saloon. The man had been shot in the back, no less. It was Pete Mundy who had done that; Jake would swear his life on it. It had become a matter of both pride and stark necessity for him to prove it.

  Jake thought back to the conversation Annie had had with the sheriff in Stony Gulch. The woman had been lying when she told Sheriff Cayne that the boys in the Mundy Gang were dead. Only two weeks ago, they had been spotted buying supplies outside of Gunnison. And if Jake knew that, he was damned sure that Annie knew it too. She was protecting the boys, no doubt about it. Although his conscience chafed at the idea of using a woman to lure out a killer, he knew of no other way to accomplish it.

  He glanced at Annie, watching as she pulled apart the remains of her sandwich and allowed her cat to lick the stringy roast beef from her fingertips.

  “What do you call her?” he asked, nodding toward the cat.

  Annie glanced up at him and shrugged. “Cat.”

  Jake nodded. A bit obvious, but better than Fluffy or Sugar, he supposed.

  Her gaze fell to the bourbon flask in his hand. “You planning on getting drunk, mister?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Why? Did Pete get drunk?”

  “Pete did a lot of things.”

  She turned away, pointedly returning her attention to her new pet. So much for conversation. That was probably just as well, Jake decided, taking another swig from his flask. No sense getting to know her — either she’d lead him to the men he needed to find or they would ride their separate ways. Annie seemed to be of the same mind, for she displayed no interest in him whatsoever. They had spoken less than a dozen words to each other since leaving town.

  Jake’s gaze moved from the dancing silvery-black shadows of the cottonwood and scrub oak that dotted the horizon to the inky-purple mass of the San Juan mountain range. But his thoughts stayed focused on Annie. There were only two kinds of women in the West. The good ones and the bad ones. The good ones were wives and daughters, school teachers, store clerks, and the like. The bad ones were the saloon girls, dancers, prostitutes, and assorted feminine rabble that drifted across the frontier. No doubt in the world to which group Outlaw Annie belonged.. But that was her business, he supposed, not his.

  The solitary howl of a wolf broke through Jake’s musings. The lonesome cry was answered by another and another, until the howls reached a haunting crescendo. Jake pushed his thoughts of Annie away and rose to his feet. As long as the woman drew the Mundy Gang out of hiding, he didn’t give a damn about anything else.

  “Better get some sleep,” he said. “We ride out at dawn.”

  He glanced at the fire, debating whether to kick it out. It was a cool night, without a breeze to lift the embers or spark the flames. The fire would burn itself out in a couple of hours, and the warmth would feel good in the meantime.

  Annie briefly studied the flames and seemed to draw the same conclusion. She stood and moved wordlessly to her bedroll. A frown touched Jake’s lips as he surveyed the small pile of rocks and sticks that sat beside her bedroll. Annie had methodically stockpiled them earlier as she had spread out her blankets.

  He nodded toward her meager arsenal. “Is that meant to keep me away or the wolves?”

  “I don’t reckon there’s much difference, do you?”

  Jake shook his head. “You do know how to flatter a man, don’t you, darlin’.”

  Annie sat down and pulled off her boots and hat, setting them both carefully beside her. “I ain’t never tried,” she answered with a shrug. “Never saw much point to it.”

  “I believe the point is flirting, courting…” He paused for a moment, considering. “Have you ever been courted, Annie?”

  Her eyes immediately narrowed. “You better get one thing straight right now, Mr. Fancy-Pants. I ain’t like them tarted-up saloon gals back in Stony Gulch. You come near me again and I’ll bash in your skull. You got that?”

  “I take it the answer is no.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  Jake didn’t know which was more ridiculous: her paltry threat or her fear that he might actually try to force himself on her during the night. Aware that she was entirely serious, however, he nodded solemnly. “I believe I’ll be able to resist the allure of your feminine charms.”

  Annie didn’t miss his mocking tone. She scowled and brought up her chin. “See that you do.”

  He shrugged off his jacket and shirt in preparation for bed. She watched him intently, displaying none of the usual signs of embarrassment or feminine modesty at the sight of his bare chest.

  “You always dress fancy like that?”

  “Part of the job,” Jake answered easily. “Men get a few extra bills in their pocket, they start looking for ways to spend it. When it comes to gambling, most men prefer to lose their money to a well-dressed gentleman rather than a dirty tinhorn lout who looks no better than they do.”

&nb
sp; “You always win?”

  “Always.”

  She frowned. “Why? You cheat?”

  He overlooked the insult. “Maybe I just get lucky.” He paused, treating her to his most seductive smile. “Or maybe I’m just that smart.”

  Annie studied him in silence for a long moment. “I doubt you’re that lucky. You sure as hell ain’t that smart.”

  Jake arched a dark brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “If you had any brains at all, you wouldn’t be here now.” With that final statement, she slipped between her blankets, still fully attired, and rolled over, presenting him with her back.

  The mournful cry of a wolf filled the air. Cat hissed and scratched at Jake’s boot. Dulcie and Weed skittered nervously. It was going to be a long, cold night. Jake wondered if she wasn’t right after all.

  “What are you after, mister?”

  Jake shifted in his saddle, stalling for time as he considered Annie’s question. He figured she would wonder. He hadn’t expected her to ask outright.

  They’d been riding hard all morning and had finally stopped to breathe their mounts. Locating a stream that had carved its way through the rough terrain, they ambled slowly along its banks. The day was crystalline, flooded with brilliant autumn sunshine and crisp, cool breezes. Rugged canyon walls soared above them, encasing them in a chasm of earthy red clay. The subtle fragrance of cedar and pine drifted through the air.

  “Well?” Annie demanded impatiently.

  “Just thought you could use a friend, darlin’.”

  “You ain’t no friend of mine.”

  Unwilling to debate the truth of that statement, Jake continued with a cool shrug. “Sheriff Cayne needed help, and I had some business out Cooperton way. Plus there’s the matter of my money—”

  “What money?”

  “That twenty-eight hundred cash Sheriff Cayne is holding for me.”

  “That’s nothing,” she said. “Not to someone like you.” Her eyes flicked over him in harsh appraisal, as though mentally calculating the cost of his clothing, his boots, his saddle, his horse. “I’d wager you’ve got at least ten times that amount waiting for you in some bank back East.”

  Jake hid his surprise. Her guess was uncannily accurate. Although twenty times that amount was more like it, and the bank was in St. Louis.

  “So if it’s not the money that’s driving you,” Annie continued, “it must be something else. Either Sheriff Cayne’s got some other hold over you, or there’s something you want from me. Maybe both. I ain’t figured it out yet, but I will.”

  “You let me know when you do.”

  “You’ll know, mister. Believe me, you’ll know.”

  She lifted her canteen and took a long swig of water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. In an unconsciously feminine gesture, she removed her hat and tilted her face upward to receive the warmth of the sun. The movement revealed the long, smooth column of her throat and accentuated the subtle swell of her breasts beneath her coarse flannel shirt. Released from its confines, her hair tumbled in loose waves about her shoulders, shimmering with streaks of honey and wheat.

  The movement also afforded Jake a direct view of her face. For the first time, he could truly see her features — unlike in the sheriff’s office, with her battered felt hat pulled down low on her brow, or over the dim, smoky light of a campfire. When not brimming with anger and hostility, her eyes were rich and warm, framed by long, curly lashes and set with a mischievous tilt at the corners. The color was far from dull brown, as Jake had once thought. Annie’s eyes sparkled with light and vitality, reflecting assorted shades of gold, green, and chestnut. Her cheekbones were high and smoothly sculpted, her soft pink lips were full and generous. The gentle, sun-tinged glow that warmed her cheeks struck him as far more attractive than the pallid porcelain sheen most women sought to attain.

  Even more compelling than her physical features was the character revealed in her face. Intelligence showed clearly, as well as the gritty determination and strength of spirit he had first noted when he had seen her at the hanging. All in all, she presented a compelling mixture of unaffected femininity and rock-solid backbone. This was not a lady who would be easily intimidated — or easily forgotten.

  Jake eyed her consideringly. If not for the regrettable circumstance of her birth and upbringing, Miss Annabel Lee Foster would have been a truly magnificent woman. He pictured her dressed in the finery of a well-bred lady rather than her customary attire of worn-out flannel and faded denim, an empty pair of holsters strapped to her hips. Perhaps a gown of rich gold velvet to emphasize her unusual coloring, her hair swept up and away from her face, an elegant strand of pearls around her throat. He saw her gracefully descending a staircase, shimmering sunlight flooding in behind her, a flock of eager suitors waiting below.

  Annie chose that moment to glance over at him. Momentarily flustered by his open appraisal, she quickly reverted to her natural state of belligerence. Stuffing her hair back under her hat, she slapped the worn felt over her head and pulled the brim down low.

  “What the hell are you lookin’ at?” she snapped.

  A small smile tugged his lips as his image of Outlaw Annie as a woman of style and elegance instantly shattered. “I’m looking at you, darlin’.”

  “Well, don’t. I don’t like it.”

  “What do you like?” he asked, unoffended.

  They nudged their mounts away from the stream they’d been following, forging a southbound trail through a grove of aspens. Although he’d asked the question only in an effort to keep their conversation alive and relieve the tedium of the trail, Jake was surprised to find himself genuinely curious.

  “I like Cat,” Annie replied after a moment, scratching the ears of the mangy beast that sat curled around her saddlehorn. “And Dulcie.” She patted her mare’s neck.

  “What else?”

  She leveled him with a cool stare. “Men who don’t ask a lot of questions.”

  Jake grinned. “You’ve got a style all your own, darlin’, I’ll give you that.”

  His amusement faded as Annie wordlessly turned her mare east, moving away from him at a brisk pace. Jake spurred Weed into a light canter and cut across her path. He caught her reins in his hand, bringing her to an abrupt stop. “Cooperton’s the other way.”

  Annie frowned and tugged her reins out of his grasp. “I have some business of my own to take care of first.”

  “What sort of business?”

  “Business that don’t concern you.”

  He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Evidently I didn’t make myself clear. Until we make it to Cooperton, everything you do concerns me. For the next two weeks, I’ll be following you closer than your own shadow.”

  “Only you’ll be talking a lot more.”

  Jake ignored the remark. “What sort of business?” he repeated.

  Annie studied him silently for a minute, a mulish expression on her face. Finally she lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. “I’ve got something I need to pick up. You can follow me if you want to, mister. Just don’t expect me to wait up for you.”

  With those parting words, Annie dug her heels into Dulcie’s flanks, urging her little mare into a gallop. The wind lashed her face as she flew over the rough ground, leaving a trail of dust behind her. Jake took out after her, watching in admiration as she rode. She moved with a supple grace that was completely unselfconscious, her lithe form perfectly matched to her mount’s long strides.

  Annie didn’t slow until mid-afternoon, when they reached an old silver mine. She dropped Cat to the ground and swung off Dulcie. Jake followed suit, hitching Weed beside Annie’s mare, his reins looped around the branch of an old cedar.

  “You planning on doing some mining?” he asked.

  “I’ll be digging, all right, but it won’t be for any puny bits of worthless rock.” Although she was obviously struggling to maintain an air of indifference, a glow of childlike excitement shone in her eyes.
/>   Jake glanced around the abandoned sight, wondering at its cause. The mine had obviously been played out years ago. The mouth of the main shaft was choked with tumbleweeds and sagebrush. A dilapidated shed stood a few yards away, leaning drunkenly against the hillside. An odd assortment of rusted and broken tools lay scattered before it. Although the cooking fire had long since cooled, a battered tin coffeepot remained suspended over the ashes, swaying in the breeze. A soft wind kicked up clouds of dust and dirt and carried the faint, acrid scent of sulfur with it.

  “We got anything left in that supply bag?” Annie asked, obviously intending to eat before getting down to the business that had brought her there.

  As Jake was also hungry, he didn’t object. He pulled a blanket from his saddle and spread it out beneath a shady cedar. Next he dug into the supplies Sheriff Cayne had provided, retrieving a few day-old biscuits, a hunk of creamy yellow cheese, thinly sliced ham, and two tart green apples.

  They ate in silence, listening to the sound of the wind rustle through the cottonwoods. Once the meal had ended, Annie rose to look for Cat. In keeping with her habitual pattern, the mangy beast had wandered off once again. Jake stood and stretched. As a gentle breeze stirred the air around him, he heard the soft, rustling flap of a burlap sack. Annie’s burlap sack. The sack that contained all her worldly goods — and perhaps a clue as to how he might find the Mundy Gang. Jake eyed the bag consideringly. Another stiff breeze might just spill open the contents.

  For that matter, so would the toe of his boot. He hesitated briefly, reluctant to invade the woman’s privacy. But after a few moment’s reflection, he realized that hanging for a murder he didn’t commit appealed to him even less. He glanced around for Annie. Confident that she was still occupied with hunting for Cat, he dumped the contents of her bag onto the blanket.