The Kansas Lawman's Proposal Page 22

  “If you believe that, then you’ll be surprised when Edgar Havern arrives from Kansas City to audit your ledgers. I will see to it that he puts you out of business. You’ll rot in jail, you snake!”

  “What have you done!” he roared as he sank down on top of her, forcing the air from her lungs.

  She swallowed apprehensively, then realized something was draped around her neck. She remembered what Jennifer had said about Adolph purchasing two necklaces. One for his mistress—and obviously one to use as a slave collar when he’d captured her.

  “You’ve been mocking me the whole time, haven’t you?” he muttered savagely.

  “Actually I was disappointed that you didn’t end up dead after our last confrontation,” she said with more bravado than she felt. Provoking him probably wasn’t her smartest plan of action but she preferred to keep him talking to delay the inevitable. “Why didn’t you contact the marshal after I bested you, Adolph? I know you have him in your pocket.”

  “Because I wanted to handle your punishment privately.” He braced his arms on either side of her head and leaned unnervingly close. “Because I have been waiting to hear you beg when I take you as many times as I please. You’ll be mine, Rachel. And you will pay dearly until I grow tired of you and discard you like the trash you are.”

  When he lowered his head, attempting to kiss her hard and demandingly, she turned her face away. Irate, he backhanded her and her cheek burned like fire. Rachel twisted beneath him, then screamed bloody murder, despite his threat.

  She knew there were an excessive number of people on the street this evening. If one of them heard her, she might gain assistance in escaping. She was anxious to track down Jennifer and Sophie. If Adolph had harmed one hair on their heads, she’d have his scalp!

  “Shut up!” he hissed viciously, then tried to cover her mouth.

  She bit his hand, then shrieked again when he tugged at her shirt, attempting to rip it from her body.

  “No one is going to cross me to help you,” he assured her hatefully. “Your fate is sealed, hellion. Accept it—”

  His voice dried up when the back door slammed open unexpectedly. Nate’s big brawny frame filled the exit, and Rachel had never been so relieved to see anyone in her entire life.

  Adolph’s roar of outraged fury gave away his location in the darkness. Nate charged at him like a mad bull, unintentionally stepping on Rachel’s outstretched arm. She didn’t complain because she had the spiteful satisfaction of hearing Adolph howl in agony when Nate’s doubled fist connected with his jaw and he stumbled into the wall.

  In the dim light spraying through the back door, Rachel could see the two silhouettes pounding away on each other. When they rolled across the floor, she heard Nate snarling like a grizzly and Adolph swearing profusely. When Nate grabbed the front of Adolph’s shirt, cocked his arm and clobbered him, Adolph flopped backward and landed on Rachel.

  “Hit him good and hard for me,” she encouraged Nate.

  “With pleasure, angel face.”

  Before Adolph could get his bearings and lever himself upright, Nate jerked him to his feet. He buried his fist in Adolph’s soft underbelly, forcing his breath out in a pained whoosh. Adolph staggered against the shelves.

  Several items tumbled over him when he kerplopped on the floor—much the same way he had when Rachel shoved him off balance a month earlier. Only last time Adolph had kept all his teeth. She was pretty sure Nate’s power-packed punch had knocked several of them down the bastard’s throat tonight.

  “Get up, Turner,” Nate bellowed furiously. “Give me an excuse to hit you again for resisting arrest.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Adolph muttered, then spit blood.

  “Nate Montgomery, U.S. Marshal.” He retrieved his new badge from his pocket and shoved it in Adolph’s battered face. “You are under arrest for assault, embezzlement and whatever else I can think to throw at you.”

  “Oh, hell.” Adolph sighed audibly, then slumped on the floor in a crumpled heap. “All because of Rachel St. Raimes…Damn you, woman…” Then he passed out.

  “St. Raimes?” Nate parroted, then stared accusingly at her. “I thought your name was Waggoner.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you that I go by my grandfather’s last name these days, just in case you came across a Wanted poster in Possum Grove or Crossville. Thank you,” she added when he untied her hands so she could sit up and pull her ripped shirt back together. “Here, use these ropes on Adolph. I’ll be much happier when he’s bound up like a mummy.”

  “Spiteful little thing, aren’t you?” he teased as he brushed his lips over her forehead.

  “He made me mad. Furious is nearer the mark.” Rachel untied her feet, then bounded up to hand Nate two more lengths of rope. “Adolph said he captured my friend Jennifer and her daughter. He was going to dispose of them if I didn’t submit—”

  She stopped talking when she saw Nate lurch around to deliver a brain-scrambling blow to Adolph’s cheek in one spectacularly graceful move.

  “Hey! If you hit him too hard, he’ll be unconscious for hours,” she protested as she tied the hem of her torn shirt together beneath her breasts. “You’re supposed to pry needed information from him.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Frowning, bemused, Rachel watched Nate storm from the storeroom to the office. He returned with a pitcher of water, then he poured it on Adolph’s head. He sputtered and gasped for breath.

  The instant he was cognizant, Nate grabbed him by the hair and gave his head a hard snap against the wall. “Where did you stash Mrs. Grantham and her daughter? And keep in mind that you’ll be just short of dead if you don’t tell me right now,” he growled ominously.

  “Sewing room,” he mumbled dazedly. “Don’t hit me again.”

  “You mean after this time?”

  Rachel bit back a smile when Nate delivered another pulverizing blow that knocked Adolph’s head against the fallen crate beside him.

  “Okay, I’m done here…for now. Let’s go find your friends.”

  He grabbed her hand and headed toward the back door. He moved so quickly that Rachel’s head snapped back and she stumbled against him. His arms closed around her and he nuzzled his chin against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rough. I should also warn you that I’m going to be mad as hell at you later, because I was afraid something awful might happen before I found you. Right now, I’m just damned relieved. And we are not doing this again!”

  “Not doing what?” she murmured as she snuggled against his broad chest, ashamed to admit that she enjoyed his protectiveness.

  “Not playing by your rules when apprehending criminals or gathering evidence. I’m the professional. It’s what I do.”

  She smiled contentedly, willing to agree to anything now that she had survived. Plus, Nate had pounded Adolph flat and the Granthams were minutes away from being rescued. “Whatever you say, Mr. Marshal. You’re the boss.”

  He scoffed. “No, I’m not. Marry me. You can be the boss if it makes you happy.”

  The request wiped the smile from her lips. She knew he was quivering with protectiveness and feelings of obligation. But she couldn’t bear to be around when those feelings of responsibility wore off and he realized he didn’t love her and never would. Watching the mild affection he felt for her dwindle away would break her heart.

  She wormed loose, spun around, then headed for the back door once again. “We can discuss this later. I have to check on Jennifer and Sophie.”

  “Where’s the ledger?” he asked suddenly.

  “I don’t know. I confiscated it, but Adolph took it away from me, then he hit me on the head and knocked me unconscious.”

  She heard Nate’s enraged growl, followed by another punch to Adolph’s jaw. Well, at least Nate cared enough to be angry on her behalf, she mused as she jogged down the alley to reach the back door of the boutique. Finding the door unlocked, she hurried inside, then stumbled to a hal
t when she heard adolescent sobbing in the dark sewing room.

  “It’s okay. I’m here,” Rachel said as she felt her way across the room to light the lantern.

  Jennifer and Sophie were tied to chairs that were positioned in the middle of the room, away from the door and window. The instant the light illuminated Rachel’s bruised face and torn shirt, Jennifer sputtered vehemently.

  “Did that monster do that to you? Let me loose so I can return the favor. Why are you wearing that necklace?”

  Rachel chortled as she untied the ropes. “The necklace and the bruises were part of Adolph’s vengeful punishment for me,” she replied. “The U.S. marshal pulverized him, so we might not get our chance at Adolph. Rest assured that Adolph is experiencing a great deal of pain at the moment.”

  Jennifer untied Sophie, then gave her daughter a comforting hug. “There, there, sweetheart. We are both just fine. So is Rachel, though she looks the worse for wear. But it’s testament that a woman can fend for herself when necessary and don’t you forget that, Sophie.”

  Sophie bobbed her blond head as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist.

  Rachel smiled reassuringly at the child. “We are all going to be just fine. I’ll be back to work, just as soon as my new friend, Doc Grant, is back on his feet. He is going to take several days of special care.” She looked hopefully at Jen. “Is that okay?”

  “Take as much time as you need,” Jen insisted. “Then you can tell me all about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing the past month…”

  Her voice trailed off and her gaze drifted over Rachel’s head. Rachel pivoted to see what had captured Jen’s rapt attention. Her heart swelled at the sight of Nate, even if he had pinned the official-looking badge on his shirt.

  “Jennifer Grantham, this is Nathan Montgomery, U.S. Marshal,” she introduced. “Nate, this is Sophie.”

  Nate bowed politely and flashed a charming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You, too, Sophie. I’ll be back tomorrow to interview you about your captivity. Right now, my star witness needs to recuperate from her harrowing ordeal. Also, her friend, Doc Grant, is impatient to see her.”

  Rachel inwardly winced. She expected that she was going to be subjected to another tongue-lashing—like the one Doc delivered before he windmilled down the hill.

  “Did you find the ledger?” Rachel asked as Nate escorted her out the back door.

  “Yep. Turner was kind enough to direct me to it when he regained consciousness for a few minutes.”

  “I’ll bet he was eager to help,” she said, and smirked.

  “He provided me with another opportunity to clobber him a few more times for mistreating you. He was also more than happy to tell me where I can find his three thugs.”

  Rachel’s attention shifted to Doc when Nate held open the door to the infirmary. Dr. Yeager blinked in surprise when he recognized Rachel, who had removed her cap as she approached Doc Grant.

  “Let me get a cool compress and ointment for your bruised cheek,” Dr. Yeager insisted. “That blow drew blood, thanks to someone’s sharp-edged ring.”

  Rachel inspected her cheek to feel the slice in her skin. “It’s just a scratch. I can treat it myself.”

  “I’m taking care of it, so that’s that,” Dr. Yeager said as he strode off to fetch his medical supplies.

  “Hello, Doc. Feeling better?” Rachel asked gently.

  He scowled at her. “I feel like hell, but thank you for asking. What happened to you?”

  “Someone else around here doesn’t like me much.” She smiled wryly. “I’m sure you understand how they feel.”

  He looked the other way. “Don’t tell me you did what you did for my own good again. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Fine, I won’t say it. But I think Margie will be thoroughly disappointed if you consume more tonics, and drink yourself into oblivion, just so you can rejoin her sooner rather than later.” She eased down beside him and patted his hand. “You have too much to give to those of us left on earth. You’re my friend so I refuse to lose you. I want you to open an office in Dodge, where I plan to stay and return to work. I’m sure Dr. Yeager would appreciate the experienced help.”

  Dr. Yeager nodded enthusiastically as he returned to hand Rachel the cool compress and ointment. “She’s right, Joseph. We could share the office and duties, if you’re willing.”

  “I still feel the need to administer to patients in small communities who are without a certified physician,” Doc contended. “I see no reason why they should suffer just because they don’t live in a larger city.”

  Dr. Yeager rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t see why we can’t work out a rotation system so we can take turns traveling to various communities a few days a week. Once we establish a routine of where we’ll be on a given day, needy patients will know exactly where to find us.”

  “I like the idea,” Doc replied agreeably. “I would be honored to work with you.”

  Dr. Yeager smiled at his banged-up patient—and soon-to-be partner. “Truth be told, I’m looking forward to venturing out of town for some fresh air. I’ll also have the chance to talk shop with someone trained in the field of medicine.”

  With that settled and out of the way, Doc turned his attention to Rachel. He lifted his arm to brush his fingertips over her injured cheek. “I don’t deserve you, girl.”

  She smiled impishly at him. “Yes, you do. Besides, I want you to be the father I never had. You can even fuss at me occasionally if that makes you happy.”

  He nodded wearily, then glanced at Nate. “Make sure she gets some rest. But don’t have the ceremony until I can stand up without passing out. I’m still giving her away. No matter when, no matter where, no matter what.”

  “I’ll take good care of her for you,” Nate promised as he drew Rachel to her feet. “We’ll be back to see you tomorrow. Count on it, Doc.”

  Rachel allowed Nate to escort her onto the street and into the hotel. She hoped he didn’t plan to press her tonight about the arrangements for this ridiculous wedding. She was too exhausted to match wits—and iron wills—with him.

  To her surprise, he escorted her as far as the door of her room, dropped a kiss to her forehead and said, “I have to wrap up my dealings with Turner and the city marshal before I call it a night. Stay out of trouble, please.”

  Rachel was sorry to say that she was disappointed when he spun on his boot heels and walked away. Maybe he had finally come to his senses and realized that his misplaced obligation to her was unnecessary. Either that or the lingering aftereffects of the love potion had finally worn off completely.

  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked herself as she closed the door. “This is what is best and you know it.”

  Rachel peeled off her tattered clothing and donned her nightgown. Exhausted, she collapsed in bed and fell asleep, despite the headache pounding relentlessly against her skull.

  Nate frog-marched Turner to jail and watched shock and wariness claim the city marshal’s expression when he noticed the U.S. Marshal badge Nate was sporting. Determined to incarcerate Turner, Nate hauled him past Seth Peterson’s desk to lock the prisoner in a cell.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Marshal Peterson objected.

  Nate turned the lock on the cell door, stuck the key in his pocket, then rounded on Peterson. “Unless you want to find yourself arrested for obstruction of justice, you’ll keep my prisoner locked up,” Nate boomed.

  The stocky, dark-haired marshal shrank back when Nate’s voice ricocheted around the cells. He glanced apprehensively from Nate to Turner, who glared viciously at him.

  “If Turner escapes, I’m coming after you first. Decide right now whose side you’re on because I’m not giving you a second chance, Peterson.”

  He didn’t usually throw his authoritative weight around, but he damn well intended to do it tonight. Peterson had to choose sides or he could hand in his badge. In addition, Nate wanted T
urner to rot in jail because he had abused Rachel and sent her fleeing from her home and her job. Plus, the vicious bastard had murdered his mistress, cheated his investors and tortured his customers. One of his victims was still recovering from the beating Turner had ordered his goons to deliver.

  “What’s it going to be?” Nate demanded impatiently.

  Peterson extended his meaty hand. “I’m sticking with you, Marshal Montgomery.” When Turner voiced a threat, he ignored him. “Turner will be here when you get back.”

  “Also, there is the matter of Turner’s hired ruffians,” Nate went on to say. “They paid me an unpleasant visit and I’m filing charges. I will deal with them tomorrow. It’s your job to keep Turner under wraps until I transport him to federal prison—or a hanging.”

  Peterson nodded his bushy brown head, then said, “I recommend taking reinforcements with you to apprehend the ruffians. They enjoy breaking body parts.”

  Nate knew that firsthand. But he’d dealt with dozens of ruthless fugitives and he had taken a very personal interest in arresting the heartless threesome. He’d be on guard during the upcoming confrontation.

  He ambled onto the street, serenaded by the guffaws and loud voices coming from the south side of the tracks. He veered into the Long Branch Saloon for a few minutes to speak with Ludy. The moment he returned to the street more racket filled the air. However, the noise didn’t drown out the voice in his head warning him to get Rachel to agree to marry him—soon—or she might duck out of town to avoid him.

  He had to marry her, he reminded himself. He couldn’t talk himself out of it, especially after enduring several hellish moments this evening when he couldn’t locate her fast enough to suit himself. He’d sweated bullets. Then he’d nearly exploded in fury when he’d stepped into Turner’s storeroom of horrors to see Rachel staked out like a human sacrifice to that malicious devil.

  That was when Nate realized that he couldn’t survive unless he knew where Rachel was, knew that she belonged to him exclusively and that she would come home to him every single night for the rest of his life.