Chasing Rainbows Page 5

  Jake studied the paltry assortment of personal odds and ends with a slight frown. Torn rags, a broken bridle bit, a handful of rifle cartridges, a small velvet purse that jingled with coins, a badly worn book, an equally distressed leather Bible, and an old tintype photograph completed the collection. He lifted the book first, somewhat surprised that Annie could read. Not that she wasn’t bright enough, but that she’d ever been given the schooling. Winston’s Guide to Proper Etiquette and Deportment for Refined Young Ladies of All Ages read the gilt title on the cover. He flipped open the front jacket, noting the name that had been penned in the upper right corner in a young girl’s roundly ornate cursive: Hannah Elizabeth Foster.

  Next he examined the tintype. The portrait showed two young girls dressed in their Sunday best, holding hands. Jake smiled at the tiny image of feminine perfection. Looking at the tintype, he could almost hear the stiff crunch of crinoline beneath their freshly starched dresses, almost feel the satiny smoothness of their ribbons and bows.

  The older girl, who was perhaps eight, looked appropriately solemn at the occasion of having the photograph taken. The younger girl, however, appeared to be struggling just to stand still. An impish grin curved her lips, her eyes glowed with excitement, and her chubby cheeks were rosy and flushed. Unlike the properly sedate older child, a bit of the younger one’s personality was already showing through. Her dark-blond curls were mussed and scattered. The lace edge of her skirt drooped about one ankle. A tiny smear of dirt streaked her chin.

  Outlaw Annie.

  “You don’t ever get tired of nosing into other people’s stuff, do you, mister?”

  Jake turned to find Annie scowling at him, Cat bundled tightly in her arms. Nearly all signs of the high-spirited, adorable young girl she’d once been had vanished. Still, he was certain that it was her in the tintype. Her features hadn’t changed that much: the soft curve of her lips, the small nose, the tilt of her expressive eyes.

  “How old were you?” he asked.

  She let out an exasperated breath. “Five,” she answered. She released Cat and reached for the tintype, returning it to her burlap sack.

  “The older girl’s your sister?”

  She gave a curt nod. “Hannah.”

  “Where—”

  “Dead,” Annie answered flatly. She propped her fists on her hips and asked, “You got any more questions?”

  Several, Jake answered silently. The photographer’s stamp in the lower corner read Johnston & Sons, Philadelphia. The clothing the girls wore was obviously high quality. How did a young girl from a well-to-do family in Philadelphia end up running with an outlaw gang in Colorado? Where were Pete Mundy and the rest of the boys, and why was Annie covering for them?

  Jake shrugged easily, assuming a pose of casual indifference. “None that can’t keep for a day or two, darlin’.”

  He let the questions roll through his mind, keeping half an eye on Annie as she stuffed the flannel and denim scraps back into her bag. He frowned, his curiosity captured by her movements. “You brought cleaning rags?”

  Annie stiffened, momentarily frozen in her task. “My clothes,” she answered tightly.

  “I apologize,” Jake said instantly. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Never mind.”

  If she’d been wounded at all by his thoughtless blunder, it didn’t show. She methodically continued her chore, hesitating only when she reached the small velvet purse that contained the coins. Scowling, she pulled open the purse’s strings and peered inside. Apparently satisfied that the contents hadn’t been disturbed, she placed it within the burlap sack and gave him a long, hard look.

  “That’s my money. Three hundred twenty-nine dollars and forty-eight cents. You get any thoughts about stealing it, or just dipping in for a loan, and I’ll—”

  “Bash in my skull,” Jake finished for her, bored.

  Annie tilted her chin. “Just see that you remember it.”

  Her packing finished, she swept past him and into the dilapidated shed, returning seconds later with a pair of rusty shovels. She pressed one into his hands.

  “We got some digging to do,” she said brusquely. “You know how these work, Mr. Fancy-Pants?”

  He arched a dark brow. “I believe I’m familiar with the concept.”

  Annie gave an unladylike snort. “From watching other folks dig, most likely. Bet you never been on the blister end of one before.”

  She spun around and marched resolutely past the mouth of the abandoned mine, industriously shoveling away near the base of an old cottonwood tree. Jake watched her in silence. After a few minutes, she stopped and glared up at him. “What’s the matter, mister? Afraid you’ll get your pretty clothes all dirty?”

  Figuring he had that one coming, Jake let the remark go. “Do you mind telling me what we’re digging for?”

  “I don’t suppose the words ‘it’s none of your business’ mean anything to you?”

  “Not if you want my help.”

  Annie muttered something beneath her breath. She glanced down at the hole she’d dug, then scowled up at Jake. Finally she let out a burdensome sigh, set her shovel aside, and reached into the back pocket of her denim work pants. “Here,” she said. “Since you’re so all-fired curious, take a look.”

  Despite her grumbling attitude, Jake heard a note that sounded almost like pride in her voice. He stepped forward and accepted the worn piece of paper she passed him. It was dirty, smudged, and nearly torn through the folds, like a cherished letter that had been read over and over again until the contents had been thoroughly memorized. But upon closer inspection, he saw that it wasn’t a love letter at all. It was nothing but an old advertising circular for a hotel.

  Paradise! the flier exclaimed in bold, twenty-point type. Come visit the Palace Hotel in Cooperton, Colorado, the West’s most elegant resort for distinguished ladies and gentlemen. The Palace Hotel, culture and civilization in the midst of the wild Western frontier. The flier went on to describe the hotel’s lobby, rooms, restaurant, and theater in gushing, effusive detail. Although the name was unfamiliar to Jake, that didn’t necessarily signify. Grand hotels had been springing up all over the territory since the discovery of gold at Pikes Peak and the subsequent boom in Denver City.

  “Very nice.” He folded the flier and passed it back. “You planning on robbing the place?”

  Annie’s brows snapped together. “I own it,” she shot back. “I got the deed buried right here. Now are you gonna ask any more questions, mister, or are you gonna help me dig?”

  Jake removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The old cottonwood Annie had selected as a marker had grown since she’d buried the deed, forcing them to dig through and around the tree’s thick roots. Two hours later, they were both streaked with dirt and breathing heavily. Finally they reached the rough pine box that contained the deed. Jake lifted it and passed it to Annie, watching as she split the wood and withdrew the yellowed parchment.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you came by that legally, is there, darlin’?”

  Annie wiped the perspiration from her brow and sent him a dark look. “It’s more legal — and a hell of a lot more accurate — than the piece of paper that says your mama and daddy were married the day you were born.”

  Jake bit back a grin. “Well, now, that does reassure me.”

  He crossed to where Weed stood, flipped open his saddlebag, and retrieved his bourbon flask. Then he sat down and leaned against a smooth rock, stretched out his long legs, and took a deep, comforting swallow. Annie wordlessly took a seat across from him. After a few minutes, Cat wandered over, hissed at Jake, and settled herself in Annie’s lap. Whether it was a trick of the fading afternoon light or the fact that she held the deed firmly in hand, he couldn’t help but notice the relaxed glow that softened Annie’s features.

  “So your outlaw days are over,” he commented, trying once again to draw her out.

  Annie nodded. “Yup.”

  “You’l
l be a high-society lady now, running a grand hotel.”

  A contented smile drifted over her face. “That’s right,” she said. She glanced down at the flier, which sat beside her, running her fingers softly over the page. “That’s exactly what I’ll be.”

  Silence fell between them once again. Realizing that he would get nothing more from her, Jake glanced at the surrounding woods, frowning as the hint of sulfur once again assailed his nostrils. “What’s that smell?” he asked.

  Annie sniffed, then nodded in recognition. “There’s a hot springs over that ridge,” she replied.

  Following her gesture, he rose and went to investigate. Hot, steaming pools of water glistened a mere hundred yards away. Jake had already determined that they should ride for another hour or two rather than making camp at the old mining shaft. But the opportunity to bathe in the hot springs before bedding down for the night was all the incentive he needed to reverse that decision. Fortunately Annie readily agreed. The only point of contention was their bathing schedules.

  “You’re going first, mister. I ain’t taking off my clothes while you’re within fifty yards of me.”

  “I’m afraid not, darlin’. What’s to stop you from taking off with both horses while I’m up to my neck in that hot water?”

  “How do I know that ain’t exactly what you’re planning on doing to me?” Annie shot back.

  The argument continued for another ten minutes until a resolution was finally reached. A dense outcropping of rocks and scrub brush separated the pools and allowed for a modicum of privacy, so they could both bathe at the same time.

  With their horses stationed within easy view, Jake took off his clothes, tossed them over his saddle, and sank into the steaming spring. The rustling of the bush beside him, followed by a blissful sigh, told him that Annie had followed the same course.

  Their enjoyment of the hot springs was short-lived.

  Given that their compromise was based entirely on a mutual distrust of each other, without taking any other factors into account, it wasn’t long before Jake discovered the error of their plan.

  The cool evening air was shattered by Annie’s ear-splitting scream — followed by a steady stream of curses.

  Jake leapt from the spring and raced toward her, only to be knocked flat as a dark bay thundered past him. He rolled over, narrowly avoiding the animal’s flying hooves. He sprang to his feet just in time to see Weed and Dulcie gallop away, a strange rider on Weed’s back.

  Comprehension was quick and bitter. Someone had stolen their horses. The realization that followed was even worse. Night was falling. Their blankets, guns, money, and supplies were gone. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere with Outlaw Annie.

  They were both completely naked.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You take one more step, mister,” Annie warned, “and I’ll, I’ll—” She stopped short, unable to come up with a single threat that could be reasonably accomplished while she sat naked in a pool of steaming water.

  A low rumble of laughter greeted her words as Jake easily surmised her predicament. “I take it that means you’re not hurt, darlin’.”

  He stood only a few yards away, looking absolutely ridiculous. His Stetson sat at a jaunty angle on his head and his feet were tucked into dark leather boots. But with the exception of those two items — and the thick pine bough that strategically covered his private regions — he was totally and completely naked.

  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.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  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.