The Touch of Fire Read online

  His own wife had died back in ’49, caught in a shoot-out between a couple of drunk miners in California. In that case, justice and the law had marched together, and he’d been able to see both of them swinging from a rope. It hadn’t brought Maggie back, but knowing that justice had been served had kept him from going crazy with grief himself. To Atwater’s way of thinking, everything had to balance out; that was justice. He figured his job as a lawman was to keep the scales balanced. Sometimes it wasn’t easy, and sometimes it was a damn pain in the ass, like now.

  He wished he hadn’t noticed that McCay looked at Annie the way he himself used to look at his own sweet Maggie.

  CHAPTER

  18

  “We’re getting married,” Rafe said grimly.

  Annie lowered her eyes. They were in a hotel room in El Paso; Rafe had stepped inside with her, but the door was still open and she was acutely aware of Atwater standing in the hall, keeping his eye on Rafe. They had been on the trail for six weeks and Atwater had only untied Rafe that morning, muttering a cantankerous warning that he’d shoot first and find out his intentions later if Rafe made any sudden movements. She doubted they would have come into town at all, but they desperately needed supplies and Atwater hadn’t been about to leave them while he rode in alone. Rafe had somehow convinced him to check into the hotel so Annie could have a good night’s sleep. She knew why he was worried about her.

  “Because I’m pregnant.” She said it as a statement, because she knew it wasn’t a question. She had known for certain for almost a month, since her menses hadn’t come, though she had suspected from the very day Rafe had made love to her at the Apache camp. Evidently he had suspected too, for those sharp eyes had noted even the smallest symptom.

  She didn’t know how she felt, or even how she should feel. Supposedly she should feel relief that he wanted to marry her and give the baby legitimacy, but now she had to wonder, hollowly, if he would have wanted to marry her if she hadn’t been pregnant. It was probably silly of her, under the circumstances, but she would have liked to have been wanted for herself.

  Rafe saw the hurt in her eyes and instinct led him to the answer she needed to hear. He had paid such close attention to her, looking for the signs, or lack of them, that would signal a pregnancy, that it had become habit for him to study her for the nuances of expression. He took her roughly in his arms and pressed her head against his shoulder, cradling her while he ignored Atwater standing in the hall watching them. “We’re getting married now because you’re pregnant,” he clarified. “If you weren’t, I’d want to wait until this mess is cleared up so we could have a proper church wedding—with Atwater giving you away.

  She smiled at that last bit. The assurance helped her feelings some, though she couldn’t help but think that the subject of marriage had never even come up before. With his arms around her, though, all she could do was close her eyes and relax. It seemed like an eternity since the last time he had held her; all of these weeks on the road they had been constrained by both Atwater’s presence and Rafe’s bound hands, though Atwater had eventually started tying his hands in front of him. The last two of those weeks she had been burdened by an ever-increasing fatigue, one of the symptoms of early pregnancy, and she had craved his support. It had taken almost more than she could do to stay in the saddle all day.

  But now at last she could sleep in a real bed, and she could have a hot bath in a real tub. The luxury of it was almost overwhelming. She did feel a little stifled by having four walls around her and a roof overhead, but that was a tolerable price to pay for the bed and bath.

  Rafe felt her relax and rest her weight against him; he slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her. “Why don’t you take a nap?” he suggested softly, seeing her eyes already closing. “Atwater and I have something to do.”

  “I want a bath,” she murmured.

  “Later. After your nap.” He placed her on the bed and she made a sound of pleasure in her throat as she felt the mattress beneath her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead; a little smile fluttered on her lips, then faded as she dropped off to sleep. He regretted that they weren’t putting the mattress to better use after those frustrating weeks on the trail, but maybe that would change soon.

  He stepped out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Atwater scowled at him. “Is she all right?”

  “Just tired. You could have given us a minute of privacy,” Rafe said, glaring at the lawman.

  “I’m paid to see justice done,” Atwater replied grouchily. “I ain’t paid to trust people.” His gaze traveled past Rafe to the closed door. “She needs the rest, poor little thing. I knew we were settin’ too hard a pace for her, but you can’t just wander through Injun country takin’ your time and sniffin’ the flowers.”

  “Come with me,” Rafe said. “I’ve got something to do.”

  “Like what? We’re here to get supplies, not traipse all over town. And you can damn sure bet that if you go anywhere, I’m going to be right there behind you.”

  “I have to find a preacher. We want to get married while we’re here.”

  Atwater scratched his chin, frowning. “I don’t advise it, son. You’d have to use your real name, and it ain’t exactly unknown.”

  “I know. I’ll just have to take the chance.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “From here on out, there’s more of a chance I’ll be recognized, maybe even killed. I want Annie to be my legal wife just in case.”

  The marshal still wasn’t convinced. “Seems to me that gettin’ married would just increase those chances. You’d better think it over.”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  Atwater glared at him for a few seconds, then gestured down the hall toward the stairs. “I guess you’re gettin’ married, then,” he said, and stalked down the hall beside Rafe.

  They got lucky with the preacher they found, a tenderfoot newly arrived from Rhode Island who had no idea about the notoriety of the man standing not two feet from him. He gladly agreed to perform the marriage ceremony at six o’clock that evening. Then Rafe insisted on stopping in a dress shop, hoping there would be something already made that Annie could wear for her wedding. There were a few dresses to choose from, and the only one that looked small enough to fit Annie’s narrow frame was more serviceable than decorative, but he bought it anyway. It was clean and new, and the blue color was nice.

  They started back to the hotel, with Atwater walking just a little behind Rafe so he could keep an eye on him. The marshal’s suspicious nature was getting on Rafe’s nerves, but he reckoned he could put up with it until they reached New Orleans. It was a small enough price to pay for his freedom.

  El Paso was a dirty, bustling, wide-open town, the streets filled with a mixture of humanity from both sides of the border. Rafe kept his hat pulled low over his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted. He didn’t see anyone he knew, but there was always a possibility that someone he’d never met would recognize him.

  They walked by an alley; Rafe was already half a step past it when he heard the scraping of sudden movement and he whirled instinctively, already going down in a crouch. A pistol barrel was just protruding beyond the wall, and it was aimed at Atwater. In slow motion he saw the marshal grabbing for his pistol, but Rafe knew that he wouldn’t get to it in time; Atwater had wasted a precious split second when he had looked first at Rafe. The man’s damn suspicious nature would likely get him killed, because he had been so set on keeping Rafe from escaping when he should have been paying attention to what was going on around him.

  If Atwater got killed, Rafe wouldn’t have a snow-ball’s chance in hell of getting those charges taken care of before someone put a bullet in his back.

  Everything was still moving like molasses. He saw the pistol, saw Atwater turning, realized the marshal wouldn’t be able to shoot in time—and in the next instant his big, muscled body collided with the marshal, bowling him over as the sound of the shot exploded clos