The Wedding Ransom

by Geralyn Dawson

  He got his chance one shot later when she sliced her ball off into the woods. Casually he joined her in the search, and when they were both beyond the pirates’ sight, he cornered her against a cottonwood. He hadn’t intended to kiss her first off, but now that her lips were so handy, he couldn’t help himself. “Good morning, Mary-mine,” he said, his thumb stroking her face before his mouth claimed hers.

  She tasted sweet as honeysuckle nectar, and for a moment Rafe forgot the questions he wanted to ask. When he finally broke the kiss, a sensual haze clouded her normally crystalline eyes. Rafe grinned and she blinked. As her eyes cleared her complexion pinkened like a dogwood in spring.

  “I’m not yours,” she said snippily.

  “You were last night.”

  Maggie’s blush deepened. He kissed her again, and when she melted against him, Rafe briefly considered laying her down on the forest floor and taking the matter further. But recalling the proximity of her guardian pirates, he decided on a more prudent course of action. Firmly, he set her away from him. “I have some questions. We need to talk.”

  She pressed her fingers against her lips and closed her eyes. “Why do I let you do this to me?”

  “I think we do it to each other,” he replied. Catching hold of her hand, he lifted her knuckles to his mouth for a kiss. “It’s the same for me, honey. I ask myself the same blasted question.”

  “Questions. I don’t want to answer questions. I don’t want to talk. I need to find my ball.” She kicked at a heap of leaves.

  “Maggie, I know you’re probably feeling shy about last night, but—”

  “I’m not feeling shy about last night,” she interrupted.

  “Awkward, then.”

  “Not awkward, either. I’m fine. Last night was fine.”

  Fine? The best sex of his entire life was just fine for her? Rafe folded his arms and stared at her, his mouth hanging open. Well, hell! “Are you sure?” he asked, giving her another chance.

  “Positive!”

  That just got all over him. “Fine, then. Fine yourself.” Rafe gave a nearby clump of brush a good kick. Searching for the golf ball, of course.

  Maggie, too, turned back to the task at hand, and the next few moments passed in tense silence as they searched the forest floor.

  But Rafe couldn’t leave it at “fine.” Once he’d calmed down a bit, he spoke up. “All right, Maggie. If you’re not feeling bashful, how come you have a burr under your blanket?”

  “I don’t have a burr under my blanket.”

  “Yes, you do.” He halted and braced his hands on his hips. “I can tell. What’s the problem, Maggie? Go ahead and run it by me. Maybe I can help.”

  It was the wrong choice of words for him to use.

  “Help?” Her gaze filled with scorn. Bitterness dripped like venom in her words. “Gentleman Rafe Malone help us? Ha!” Twigs cracked beneath the violence of her steps as she rushed away from him.

  Rafe muttered a curse and hurried after her. Reaching out, he caught hold of her arm and drew her up short. “Now wait just a minute. What did I do to deserve that?”

  “Nothing.” She gazed at him through angry, tearful eyes. “That’s exactly it, Malone. It’s what you said you’d do. Nothing. It would be so easy for you to get our treasure for us. You have all the right skills. I don’t believe for a moment that you’d be careless enough to get caught at it. You’re too good. But you refuse to help us, so now I must figure out another way.” She jerked from his hold, lifted her chin, and abandoned her search for the ball, hurrying back to the meadow and her grandfathers.

  Rafe grabbed at a small cottonwood branch, stripping it of its leaves, scowling as he watched her flee. Wasn’t that just like a woman? She sharpened her tongue on his hide, then went running back to her daddies before he could so much as spit.

  Her attitude pricked his pride. She all but ignored what had happened between them last night, and it stuck in his craw. He damn well knew he’d pleased her—a number of times, in fact. She’d given him her virginity, then left his bed with nary a howdy-do. Women weren’t supposed to act that way. They were supposed to cling and moon on about love.

  Instead, Maggie St. John dismissed him entirely and took to worrying about the Barlow Hill/Hotel Bliss/Andrew Montgomery trouble. When he finally chased her down, all she did was blush a little and chew him out for refusing to put his neck in a noose by stealing for her.

  Damn, that woman was something else. She hadn’t even given him a chance to tell her about his old-age fund. He’d had an idea how to help, but did she give him the chance to tell her? No. She yammered at him like a fishwife. “Well, you can just stew in your own juices a tad bit longer, Mad Maggie. Serves you right.”

  Rafe gave a pinecone at his feet a good strong kick, then turned on his heel with the intention of returning to the hotel. Maggie’s scream stopped him in his tracks.

  “Papa!”

  Chapter 11

  The air echoed with Maggie’s cry as she watched Papa Snake clutch at his chest and collapse. The grimace of pain plowing deep furrows in her grandfather’s pasty complexion filled her heart with terror. Her own hands mimicked his actions when his meaty fingers curled into fists.

  Fear fueled her movements as she rushed to his side and was joined by her other papas, each of them reaching for the flask tucked away in vest or trouser pockets. Down on her knees, she lifted his head into her lap.

  Ben squatted beside her, lifting the small bottle filled with Bliss water to Snake’s pale lips. “Get a good sip,” he said, his voice controlled as he tipped the container.

  Snake drank, then coughed, then took a second drink.

  Maggie pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and with shaking hands dabbed at the sweat on his brow. His skin was clammy, his breathing shallow. It made her so very afraid.

  “What’s wrong, Snake?” Lucky fanned the downed man’s face with his hat. “Did you get hold of a bad slice of bacon or something?”

  “Gotta horse sitting on my chest,” he panted out in reply.

  It must be his heart, Maggie realized. Oh, dear Lord, no. She spied the foreign look of fear in her Papa Snake’s eyes, and her own heart began to ache. Trembling with nerves and at a loss on how else to help him, she said, “Take some more water, Papa.” Then she started to pray.

  “We better move back and give him some air,” Gus said.

  Snake breathed a weak curse. “Hurts. Hurts bad.”

  Tears stung at Maggie’s eyes, and she blinked hard, trying desperately to prevent them from falling. Snake hated it when she cried.

  “What’s wrong?” Rafe’s voice cut across the pasture and Maggie lifted her head, gazing at him as though he were a lifeline. He ran toward them, his long arms and legs eating up the distance with gratifying speed.

  Maggie remained silent while Gus repeated what had happened. Ben and Lucky appeared hesitant and uncertain. They glanced from Rafe to their fallen comrade, then back to Rafe once again.

  “What do we do?” Ben asked, his voice tight.

  Emotion squeezed Maggie’s insides. This had never happened before. In emergencies, Papa Ben was captain of the family ship. Her papas always had the answers; they always led the way. This reversal of roles frightened Maggie even more.

  Rafe knelt beside Snake, and with a gentleness in his expression new to Maggie, he laid his fingertips against her papa’s neck and felt for a pulse. “Well, you’ll be glad to know you’re not dead yet, Snake MacKenzie. Your heart’s still ticking.”

  “But somebody put my chest in a vise.”

  Rafe smiled gently. “Have you had spells like this before?”

  “Yeah…couple of…times.”

  Maggie rolled back in shock. This was the first she’d heard of it.

  “What did you do to get to feeling better?”

  “Bliss water. Rest.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “We’ve dosed him good with water, Malone. I don’t know what else…”

  “Let�
�s take him home.” Rafe slipped one arm beneath Snake MacKenzie’s shoulders, the other beneath his thighs, and hoisted the old man into his arms. Standing, he said, “Hang on there, Snake. I’ll try to make this as smooth and as quick a trip as possible.”

  Dizzy with fear, Maggie lurched to her feet and followed after them, almost running to catch up with Rafe’s long ground-eating strides. The other papas trailed behind, moving as fast as their aged legs would carry them. Please, God, she prayed. Take care of Snake. Don’t let him die. Please, God.

  She stayed behind Rafe but close enough to hear the low, gasping words her papa muttered. “Hate being old. Not much of a man anymore. I hurt.”

  “Hold on there, Snake. I’ll have you to your bed in two wags of a hungry dog’s tail.”

  A couple of minutes later, Snake spoke again. “Tired of fightin’. Hill. Now Montgomery. Makes me so damned tired. Sometimes I wonder if I should…” He gasped in pain and rasped, “Quit.”

  “No,” Maggie moaned softly. He couldn’t quit. Snake never quit at anything. He couldn’t start now! She saw Rafe’s arms squeeze her papa tighter.

  Rafe glanced at her, his eyes saying something. A question? A warning? He smiled reassuringly, winked, then said, “Hell, no, you can’t quit. Maggie needs you. You have work yet ahead of you, and you’re the only one mean enough to do it. She needs your protection.”

  “From…what?” Snake opened tired eyes dull with pain.

  “Not from what. From who. Your Maggie needs protection from me, Snake MacKenzie. Remember what you’ve warned me against these past weeks? Remember your promises? Well, you gotta be around to keep them. I touched her, Snake.”

  “Rafe!” Maggie yanked on his shirt. “What are you doing? Are you trying to kill him?”

  He ignored her, continuing in a savoring tone, “I made about as free with my hands as a man possibly can.”

  “You mean…?” Snake rasped, attempting to lift a feeble hand.

  “Yep.”

  Seconds passed like minutes, then life sparked in the old pirate’s eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

  Maggie heard the renewed strength in Papa Snake’s voice, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Now she understood Rafe’s wink.

  Rafe met Snake’s gaze and nodded. “I reckon you need to try. But first you’ll have to get well, old man. I don’t fight invalid old quitters. If you want to make me pay for taking your granddaughter’s innocence, you have to live through this first.”

  Snake blew a harsh breath filled with pain. “Reckon I’ll do it then, Malone. I’m gonna cut your nuts off and serve them to you for supper.”

  A wide smile broke across Maggie’s face. Now she knew for certain Papa Snake would be all right.

  Rafe sat sprawled on the horsehair sofa in the hotel’s parlor, his legs outstretched and his arms crossed over his chest. Although he presented a picture of total relaxation, inside he was strung tighter than a two-dollar fiddle. The doctor was in with Snake MacKenzie.

  Maggie and her grandfathers proved less successful than he in hiding their anxiety. Maggie about wore a path in the floorboard varnish. Gus and Lucky played a vicious, almost violent game of chess, while Ben stood staring out the window toward the lake, his fingers drumming against the glass over and over and over. Rafe thought Barlow Hill had shown admirable perception when, after one look at the pirates’ tense expressions, he had declared his intention to spend the rest of the afternoon with the carpenters and laborers camped at the building site on the other side of the lake.

  Maggie heaved a sigh, catching Rafe’s attention. The poor thing looked so darned pitiful that his arms ached to hold her. The rest of his body just plain ached. He’d made the normally four-hour trip into the nearest town and back to fetch the doctor in a little under three. The hard ride had him yearning for a mud bath, but he wasn’t going anywhere until he heard what the physician had to say about his patient.

  Finally, the squeak of a hinge from above and the heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs announced that the doctor had finished his examination. Rafe stood as Gus and Lucky turned away from their game. Ben allowed his hand to drop to his side. Maggie steepled her hands over her mouth, wobbling on her feet until Rafe took her elbow and offered his support.

  Dr. Terence Moore trudged into the parlor, his head tilted to one side as he massaged his neck. “The patient is resting well, you’ll be pleased to know. Based on his description of his symptoms, I believe it was a seizure of his heart. I take it as a good sign he made it this long following his spell. If he survives the night, I expect he’ll live.”

  Maggie swayed against Rafe. Ben turned away from the window, faced the doctor, and asked, “What do we do to help him?”

  “Pray,” replied the doctor. “That and continue the doses of that water of yours. I am uncertain how it benefits the body, but it obviously doesn’t seem to hurt. I’ll be the first to admit the science of medicine has plenty left to learn.”

  “And tomorrow?” Maggie asked, her voice thready. “When he wakes up tomorrow, how should we minister to him?”

  Dr. Moore offered her a kind smile. “You must make him stay in bed for at least two weeks. After that, he can resume his activities on a limited basis. He should not be subjected to any strains, anxieties, or tensions—the least little upset could kill him, I’m afraid.”

  Lucky folded his arms. “That means the dog Barlow Hill can’t even walk upstairs.”

  “The cur.”

  “The mongrel.”

  “The mutt,” Rafe added, unconsciously filling in for Snake. He was worried. Had he done the wrong thing by telling the pirate about him and Maggie? Had he caused even greater damage to the man’s health?

  The doctor continued, “Your friend did illustrate a keen will to live, however, and that is the best possible medicine for him.”

  Rafe blew a long breath, grateful to have that concern dismissed. He realized his grip on Maggie’s elbow was tighter than necessary and he forced his hand to relax. Not that she noticed. He wasn’t sure she even knew where she was. Shoot, she hadn’t been this upset when she damn near died in that cenote. He hoped Snake MacKenzie realized how lucky he was to be loved by this woman.

  “Can we see him?” she asked.

  The doctor nodded. “One at a time. Someone should be with him all night.”

  Maggie gave Ben a pleading look. He smiled gently at her and nodded. She flew from the parlor and up the stairs as Ben announced, “We will take three-hour watches. Malone, since you rode for Dr. Moore here, you are excused from duty.”

  Rafe had no intention of skipping his turn, but he wouldn’t argue about it now. He listened without speaking as the pirates bombarded the doctor with questions about Snake’s condition, and upon exhausting that topic moved on to their own aches and ailments. When the doctor declared his intention to conduct examinations on them all, Rafe excused himself and headed for the bathhouse, detouring by the kitchen to grab a bottle of cider and swipe one of Snake’s Havanas.

  Inside the three-walled structure, he lit the cigar, stripped off his clothes, and eased into the warm mud with a heartfelt sigh. Soothing heat seeped into his muscles, relaxing the knots created by tension and toil. Finding a seat on the submerged ledge, he rested his head against the log wall behind him and closed his eyes. Memories of the day’s events stole through his mind in a riot of color and emotion.

  He felt pretty good about Snake MacKenzie’s chances. Twice in his life he’d seen a man die of heart seizures, and both of them died within an hour of the attack. Snake was simply too tough an old coot to kick up his heels without making Rafe pay for his trifling with Maggie.

  Clearing his mind of all thought, Rafe drifted into a comfortably hazy half-sleep as his body recharged. He smoked the cigar and took occasional pulls on the bottle, the tangy-sweet cider a sensual compliment to the tobacco.

  The voice sneaked up on him like a dream. “How do you feel, Rafe?” Maggie asked.

  He cocked open one eye.
She stood framed by shadow just inside the door, appearing weary and worried and still in need of that hug. Rafe’s lips curled in a rueful grin. Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate his obliging her at this particular moment. He removed the Havana from his mouth. “How do I feel?” he repeated, closing his eyes. “I reckon that happy as a pig in slop is the most appropriate description, under the circumstances.”

  His hearing keen, he heard her move closer.

  “I came here to thank you for your assistance today,” Maggie said. “Carrying Papa Snake home. Riding for the doctor. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

  Rafe thought he’d earned a moment of self—righteousness. “So Gentleman Rafe Malone helped you after all. Guess you jumped the gun by haranguing me this morning.” She winced and he immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Forget I said that. Let me start over. You’re welcome, Maggie. I was happy to be of help.”

  She moved to the edge of the mud bath and sat, then began to unlace her shoes. Rafe tried to ignore the erotic pictures that flashed in his mind at the innocent exposure of a bit of ankle. He swallowed hard. “You must be tired.”

  “I have had an eventful twenty-four hours.”

  She rolled down her stockings and plopped her bare feet into the mud bath, teasingly close to his thighs. Rafe eyed the expanse of bare leg in front of him and couldn’t help but ask, “You want to join me, sweetheart? I’ll scoot over and make room. Or better yet, you can sit in my lap.”

  “You are wicked, Malone.”

  “That’s why you like me so much.”

  She smiled then, the first one he’d seen on her face all day. It made Rafe feel surprisingly good. “You know what, Miss Maggie? I think you lied to me. I think you were feeling a bit bashful this morning.”

  She looked out toward the lake and shrugged. “Maybe.”