Rebel with a Cause

by Carol Arens

  He hadn't taken two steps toward the saloon before he heard Mrs. Taylor's giggle cut short by the closing of the door.

  He ought to feel relieved that the lawman was too occupied with wedded bliss to notice that Wage had passed his way, but instead he felt an odd sorrow tugging at his gut. Being witness to their intimacy set a yearning smack in his heart.

  Zane shook himself from the inside out. He didn't want a wife, couldn't have one even if he did. The life of a bounty hunter was a solitary one.

  He set his sights on the saloon half a block down. Wage might be able to outrun the law, but that five-hundred-dollar bounty was about to come crashing down on his head.

  * * *

  The only crashing inside the peaceable saloon in Dry Leaf had been Zane's spirits. According to the patrons inside, Wage had, once again, lit out just a rope toss ahead of him.

  Zane stood tall in the stirrups and stared out over the greening hills of the Nebraska countryside. He drew his coat closer about himself. There would be rain before nightfall and the wind whistling past his ears promised that it would be plenty cold.

  Unless he caught up with the bank robber soon, he'd spend a long shivering night wrapped up in the rain canvas tucked away in his pack.

  It was a shame that life hadn't led him to be a shopkeeper or a banker where chilly nights could be spent gathered around a comfortable fire with a friend or two. Bounty-hunting was cold, dirty and occasionally heartless work, but it paid better than any easeful occupation he'd ever heard of. Any occupation that was legal, anyway.

  "There'll be a warm stall with extra hay in it for you, Ace, once we collect that five hundred dollars." He tipped the brim of his hat against the wind. Damned if it didn't just smell cold.

  The horse whickered, tossed his black mane, then dug his hooves into the turf. He stood still with his nose flaring at the wind.

  "What's the problem, fella, smell trouble?" Zane scanned the horizon but saw nothing more amiss than the ink-stained clouds that seemed to darken while he watched.

  He listened, straining to hear over the hiss of blowing grass. He recognized the gallop of pounding hooves an instant before a horse burst over the rise a few hundred feet to his left.

  "Looks like luck just fell right out of the sky, boy." He stood tall in the stirrups, gazing hard at the horse that flew over the prairie as if it was being carried along by a wicked gust of wind. "Unless I'm wrong, Wage just lost his mount."

  Capturing the runaway horse would be wise but would cost a good amount of time. Wage could only have a few miles on him and Zane wasn't about to let that advantage slip away. If it came to Wage walking to the nearest town in mud up over his ankles, tied to the knot end of a rope, the man was only beginning to collect his due.

  The criminal couldn't be behind bars soon enough. With one more bank robber put away, it would be safer for younglings to go along with their mothers to the bank. They'd never have to hear a shot crashing through glass. They'd never feel the jerk backward when--

  Zane shook his head, scattering the thought. He touched the worn lace ribbon holding his hair in a neat tail at his collar. The sooner Wesley Wage was put away the sooner he'd have his pocket full of money.

  "Let's get him, boy." Zane leaned forward. That was all the urging that Ace needed. The horse cared for nothing more than to run, to let his mane and tail fly straight out in the wind.

  At the rise of the first hill Zane ripped the ribbon from his nape and let out a shout. He liked the thrill of cold freedom whipping his hair as much as his horse did.

  Racing across the little valley made it feel as though Ace had wings instead of hooves. Fresh air filled Zane's lungs and cleared his brain of lingering memories.

  Wage ought to be close, likely over the next hilltop. Coming over the ridge, he scanned the land falling away swiftly before him.

  "What the hell?"

  He almost stopped Ace in his stride to be sure of what he was seeing, but if his eyes weren't playing tricks he'd need to push the horse to its limits.

  He blinked...twice, then leaned low and loose beside Ace's great muscular neck.

  Wage was no more than a few hundred yards away, but he wasn't alone. There was a woman dressed in...yes, by heavens...in her underclothes trying to keep Wage from stealing her horse.

  She wasn't likely to win that battle, being only three-quarters of Wage's height and half of his weight. Given Wage's meanness he was likely to lean down from his place on the saddle and hit her to break her grip on the horse's bridle.

  The woman's petticoat caught in the wind and whipped up to slap her chin. She struggled with it and tried to keep hold of the horse at the same time. Zane figured he must have dust in his eyes. It looked like a piece of her undergarment had come loose and begun to whip and whirl about the horse's hooves all on its own accord.

  Damned if the woman didn't let go of the bridle to scramble after the bit of whatever was about to be stepped on by the horse.

  Wage, not one for missing an opportunity, took that instant to give the horse a hard kick. The pony lurched forward then galloped double-time toward the west.

  With massive clouds dimming the light, Zane nearly missed seeing the woman's mouth form a perfectly pink circle of surprise when Ace galloped past her.

  Guilt squirmed in his conscience for hightailing on by like that. It couldn't be noble to leave a lady stranded so far from town in her underwear, not with one hell of a storm ready to strike the earth like a hammer.

  He glanced back to see her clutching the odd white bundle that she had been chasing. Setting his sights on Wage again, he noted the outlaw was still a good distance in the lead, but losing some ground to Ace.

  One fat, chilly raindrop smacked him on the cheek. It wouldn't be long until this whole area turned into a mud puddle. He could likely reach Wage before that happened. With Ace in his stride, the other horse might as well be walking.

  The bit of worn lace that he had yanked from his hair slapped his thumb.

  He sighed hard. Heat skimmed his lips. He sat up slow and leaned back in the saddle. Understanding the unspoken command, the horse slowed to an impatient trot.

  "Hold up, boy."

  Zane watched Wage disappear over the next hill. His whole body and soul itched to be on the run after the outlaw. With a sour lump in his gut, he turned to look once more at the stranded woman.

  Damned if she didn't look like an abandoned angel with her petticoat flapping and fluttering. Blue bows on her underwear caught the wind and looked like a passel of butterflies whirling wild. Through it all, she clung tight to that squirming...animal?...in her arms.

  Zane tied the ribbon in his hair then turned Ace's head about.

  * * *

  Missy's mouth hung open in disbelief. It was surely an unbecoming gesture that her mother would reprimand her for if she could see it.

  Suzie would swoon in pure delight, though, when Missy wrote home, describing the vision bearing down upon her with his black coat tails flapping like the wings of some great dreaded bird.

  The hooves of his huge horse pummeled the ground. Clumps of sod, ripped from the soil, flew about. The earth trembled, bringing her hero closer.

  He slowed his animal to a trot. She watched the man's mouth move. He might have spoken a colorful word. Indeed, he appeared to have uttered a whole string of them. If only she could have heard over Muff's snarling and snapping.

  The coat settled over his thighs when he stopped in front of her. The horse's dark hooves danced and pawed as though it longed to keep running. She managed to snap her mouth shut, but her eyes popped wide open.

  In her whole sheltered eastern life she'd never seen a man like this. The West rode wild in his smoky brown eyes. Black eyebrows slashed across his forehead like fired bullets. This was a man of adventure!

  He slid from his horse in a smooth, muscular leap. The tails of his coat rippled and snapped in the wind. Missy's heart felt like a moth battering at a lantern.

  Was it he
r imagination that the blustery gust had ridden in with him? That it whooshed about her as cold and delightfully fearsome as he was?

  "Are you all right, miss? Did he harm you?" His words sounded cordial but his jaw pulsed with tension. Stepping closer, the man's worn boots stomped down the rippling grass.

  For all that the sight of him made her heart quake, his deep voice, slow and sweet as summer honey, made her insides turn to mush...hot mush. She ought to be shivering in her undergarments like a proper blushing virgin instead of breaking out in a mystifying sweat.

  Still, it wasn't until she tipped her head back to peer at his beard-shadowed face, until her gaze locked on lips framed by a dusky slash of mustache, that she felt the need to swoon.

  Even she, who considered swooning silly, thought it might be an appropriate course of action at this very point in time. Unfortunately, she hadn't seen a fainting couch since she'd sneaked away from her mother's parlor.

  "Ma'am?" His hand, muscular and calloused, and unlike any gentleman's hand she'd ever seen, reached for her elbow.

  She must have swayed, even without a couch at hand. Mother would be pleased at that anyway.

  "You're quite fascinat--" Muff growled, he snapped. Oh, gracious, she'd lost all sense of propriety. She pinched her fingers over Muff's muzzle. "Yes--I'm fine...well, not exactly fine."

  "Apparently."

  His lips pressed together, looking as tight as her corset strings. His eyes darted over her inadequate attire. A flash of mischief turned his somber brown gaze to hot cocoa. Missy settled Muff squarely over her bosom.

  "You've got to catch that man!" She nodded toward the horizon. "He's stolen Mr. Goodwin's horse and an article of great importance to me."

  Eyes so briefly warmed with humor turned cold. "He'll pay for accosting you, ma'am. I'll see to it."

  He glanced west, glowering as though pursuing the cad with his eyes. A strand of ebony hair whipped loose from a ribbon at his nape and blew across his lips. He shoved it under the brim of his hat.

  "There's nothing I'd like better than to run him down." He looked at her. The anger flaring across his face faded to polite concern. "But there's one hell of a storm ready to dump on us. There's no time to fret over the garment he stole from you. You'll be dressed quicker if I take you home."

  Perhaps she should weep and moan at her state of undress. She supposed that's what a well-brought-up young lady ought to do in this situation. Although, truth be told, she had never known anyone who had gotten into such a fix.

  Not a fix, Missy reminded herself, an adventure!

  "It was the cow that took my dress, not the man." Missy shot a frown at the darkening prairie. "The man took something of much more value."

  As if by reflex, he touched the gun slung in his holster. What a sight the weapon was, riding alongside his hip, so big and ferocious-looking.

  "You don't have to say it out loud, miss, but if the outlaw has harmed you...if he's taken...liberties, just nod your head and he'll be dead by morning."

  Outlaw? Dead by morning? Missy struggled to remember those exact words. When she got her journal back, with the inspired first chapter, she'd want to share every one of them with Suzie.

  "Oh, gracious! My...my virtue is doing quite well." Why on earth were her breasts suddenly prickled with an odd tingle?

  His flaring eyebrows lifted, creasing his forehead in confused lines. The expression made him look almost sweet, in a big, bold, black sort of way.

  "This whole thing was Muff's fault, actually, for getting muddy. I don't suppose it was his fault that I slipped in the water, but then I don't think you can blame a silly cow for anything."

  Like a lightning flash, his mouth twitched up then jerked just as swiftly to a stern line.

  "I'm purely sorry for your misadventure, ma'am. I can't say I understand it, but I'd better get you back to where you came from before pure hell breaks out of the sky."

  "I came from the hotel in Green Island, but, naturally, I can't go back until well after dark." She tugged Muff in tightly but he was a poor substitute for her missing dress. "It wouldn't be seemly."

  "Seemly or not, I don't plan to stay out here and get washed away."

  Clearly, the man did not understand her predicament. Mother would perish, Edwin would have heart failure if they got word that Missy had come parading down a public thoroughfare in her soaking underwear...sharing a saddle with a man!

  "You are free as a feather to go, Mr...?"

  "Zane Coldridge."

  What a bold and wonderful name. Her own sounded weak by comparison.

  "My name is Missy Devlin." She spoke the name with force but Missy still sounded like a pampered, eastern name. "It was kind of you to stop, Mr. Coldridge, but I'm obliged to stay here until well after dark."

  He whistled to his horse. It trotted up behind him and nudged his arm. He reached his hand out to her. "Let's go."

  She backed up a pace, just out of reach.

  "Go along, please, Mr. Coldridge. I'd take it as a kindness if you'd leave me now."

  "Leaving a woman to drown in the rain doesn't sound like any sort of kindness I ever heard of."

  "Oh, it would be! Being a man, you wouldn't know what becomes of a ladies' undergarments when they get wet. I can assure you, I can't be seen in town that way."

  "Ha!" His bark of a laugh nearly unbalanced her. He bent over, bracing his wide hands on his knees.

  Muff wiggled to be free. She twisted her fingers in his fur to keep him still. The last thing she needed was to have to defend Mr. Coldridge's boots against attack.

  "Hush, Muff, be still!"

  At long last her hero straightened up. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her.

  She put it on, shifting Muff from one arm to the other. The lingering warmth of Zane Coldridge's body wrapped around her.

  "Let's go," he repeated and held out his hand once again.

  The sleeve of his coat flopped over her fingertips by several inches. She lifted her arm and let the fabric slide over her bare skin. It left a tingle, just as though the cloth might have been the man stroking her flesh.

  "Thank you," she murmured and placed her pale hand in his rough palm.

  How on earth would she find enough delicious words to describe Zane Coldridge to Suzie?

  Chapter Two

  The stream had already washed over its boundaries when the first splat of rain hit Zane square in the back.

  The icy slap promised to be only the beginning of a miserable night. Somewhere, not too far off, the squall had to be pumping misery from the sky like no storm he'd ever run afoul of before.

  He'd been caught out in the elements many times, even seen the Missouri overflow its banks, but he'd never known gullies swell to the size of rivers before the first drop hit the earth.

  He'd sure never had to take on the care of a delicate eastern woman and her...whatever that thing squirming in her lap was.

  "What is that critter?" he asked, seeking a distraction from the icy trickle racing down his back.

  "Surely you've seen a dog before, Mr. Coldridge." She turned about and glanced up at him. Even in the gathering dusk, with the storm clouds pressing out the last bit of light from the day, he caught the teasing blue sparkle in her eyes.

  "I've seen dogs." A full dozen raindrops driven by a frigid wind bit through his shirt. He tried not to shiver since there wasn't enough space for two people and a questionable animal to ride in the saddle with any extra movement. "I've also seen rats. That's a rat."

  "Did you hear that, Muff?" She tucked the animal inside his borrowed coat and held the front closed with fingers that looked like blue porcelain in the cold. "If you'd behaved like a proper Maltese and not gotten all muddy and prickly, our hero would have recognized you as a dog right off."

  Hero? He'd grunt out a laugh at that title if there had been room in the cramped saddle. Zane had been called dirty. He'd heard low down a few times. He'd felt the curses of mothers and sweethearts follow him for
days, even weeks, after he'd collected a fee for a loved one.

  "I'm a bounty hunter, ma'am." He'd better set the record straight before the woman got any fancy ideas about him. "Money-hungry cuss is what I've been called more often than not."

  He waited to feel her posture stiffen against his belly. Maybe the gentle lady would even slip off Ace's back and choose to walk rather than share the space with him.

  She turned as best she could to peer at his face. Raindrops hit her skin and dotted it with liquid freckles. Her mouth formed the same perfectly amazed circle that he had seen when he had galloped on by her earlier.

  He leaned backward in the saddle, ready to dismount and walk the rest of the way to Green Island.

  "Truly? A genuine bounty hunter?" Unbelievably, she broke into a grin that might have shot the clouds out of the sky. "You must have been chasing that awful man, earlier... Oh, mercy, was he an in-the-flesh outlaw?"

  "Yes, ma'am, he was."

  "A treacherous outlaw has stolen our belongings," she murmured down the neckline of the coat to the dog resting, warm and cozy, inside.

  She wiped at the water gathering on her face and slicked back her hair. The silky-looking tresses had turned from sunshine to dark gold with the dampness.

  "What was his crime? Murder? Kidnapping? Forgery?" Her eyes snapped. They sparkled in apparent delight. "He was a horse thief, I'll bet!"

  "He's a horse thief now, but he's wanted for bank robbery."

  "I was in mortal battle with a genuine bank robber? Did you hear that, Muff? Isn't it marvelous?"

  A shot rang out from a buried corner of Zane's memory. He heard the blast of shattering glass and the ting of it falling on a hard pine floor. He felt Missy Devlin's gasp when his arm clamped about her ribs.

  Thunder, he realized with sudden relief. The boom and crash had only been thunder.

  "There's not a thing marvelous about that bank robber, Miss Devlin. He'd have hurt you in a second and felt no remorse for it."

  "Surely not!" She frowned, putting a pretty crease between her eyes. "He looked like a gentleman. Why, I'd nearly recovered my horse when Muff interfered."