Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“Is that a horse?”
Rafe squinted in the direction Jackson pointed. It was a horse. Standing alone with something dangling from its back as it nibbled on wildflowers.
Turning in the saddle, Rafe searched for a rider, but there was no one around.
“He must’ve got loose,” Jackson said.
“We aren’t far from Mad Dog Gulch. Probably came from there.” Rafe nudged his own horse forward, and Jackson followed.
They approached the lone horse slowly. It didn’t seem fazed by their presence, lifting its head once they got closer to sniff the air and eye them for a moment before returning to its meal. The fabric hanging from the saddle looked to be a filthy quilt.
“Garland,” Jackson said, a note of urgency in his voice. “That’s my Ada’s quilt. She just finished it a few days ago.”
Rafe turned to his friend. “Are you sure?”
Jackson rode closer and took the edge of the quilt in his hand. “It’s hers. She used some of my old shirts to make it.”
Hannah. It had been raining so hard the night before, it made sense that the girls would have thrown something over themselves to keep dry.
“Mad Dog Gulch,” Rafe said as he shaded his eyes against the welcome sun to look into the distance.
“You suppose she’s there?”
“Donahue’s from the city,” Rafe said. “He wouldn’t last a minute camping up in the mountains.
It makes sense that he would’ve gone for a town.
” Now he wished he’d taken more men in this direction.
He was in such a hurry to get out of Perseverance and start searching that he hadn’t thought it through.
They’d all gone separate ways in twos and threes.
Jackson gathered the reins of the loose horse, and they started toward Mad Dog Gulch at what felt like a painfully slow pace. It wouldn’t do any good to come riding into town in a fury, Rafe told himself. It was better not to draw attention to themselves.
When they reached the town, they tied the horses to the nearest hitch.
Rafe felt on edge the moment they’d spotted the first buildings in the distance.
It was edging into evening, and the place was already rowdy.
There was a marshal, somewhere. Neither he nor Hawk had good experiences with the man, and Rafe wasn’t inclined to find him now.
He scanned the buildings and tents. Where would a man used to the comforts of the city choose to go? “Let’s start with the boardinghouses, then move to the saloons.” Heaven help Donahue if he’d dragged Hannah into one of these saloons. Or if he’d done anything to hurt her.
Rafe’s hands tensed. He’d deal with that situation if it came to it. First, he had to find her.
“Vale’s is the closest.” Jackson nodded at the ramshackle building just ahead on the left.
“Let’s go.” Rafe led the way down the road, dodging men who congregated in front of the saloon next door. It would be a miracle if they walked out later to find their horses still at the hitch.
Pushing that worry from his mind, Rafe opened the door to the boardinghouse. The walls must have been made from paper, because at least ten different conversations assailed him from all directions.
Vale himself was leaning back in a chair behind a desk. His eyes dropped to the star on Rafe’s chest before rising back to his face. “You need a room?”
Rafe would sooner sleep on the ground outside of town. “I’m looking for a man and a woman—”
“Garland.” Jackson nudged his shoulder as he withdrew a pistol.
Rafe followed his gaze. In a room just beyond the entry, tables and chairs were pushed aside to make room for four men.
And Hannah.
Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he reached for his own pistol.
“There’s a wedding going on in there,” Vale said helpfully as he eyed their guns. “Don’t go shooting it up. The cook’s serving supper in there in a few minutes.”
A wedding. Rafe’s blood roared in his ears. He started forward, hardly able to think straight.
Jackson’s hand clamped around his arm. “Wait.”
Rafe yanked his arm away. “Why? She’s in there, and that fool thinks he’s going to marry her.”
“If you go storming in there, you don’t know what he could do. He doesn’t know who you are, right?”
Rafe nodded. Only Hannah would recognize him.
Jackson reached up, unpinned the star from his vest, and slipped it into his pocket before holstering his pistol. He raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Rafe to do the same.
Rafe took a breath and tried to think through the anger. Jackson was right. They could slip in as curious onlookers, so long as they weren’t identifiable.
Jackson untucked half his shirt and ran a hand over his hair to ensure it looked as if he’d already been out carousing. He stuck his hat back on his head, hair hanging over one eye and waited while Rafe did the same.
“Stay here,” Rafe shot at Vale.
The man shrugged, like he didn’t care what happened in his own boardinghouse, so long as they didn’t delay his supper.
Rafe let Jackson enter first. They took up a spot by the wall, and Jackson reached over to grab a suspect slice of bread from the table next to him, likely left over from whatever meal was last served in this room.
He chewed on it as he looked around the room, as if what was happening across from them didn’t matter at all.
Rafe took a second to admire the playacting. Who knew Jackson had such a talent? Rafe tried to follow suit, even though all he wanted to do was rush forward and tackle Donahue to the ground.
He propped a foot on the wall behind him and caught the gaze of an irritated woman in an apron he supposed was the cook, standing at the kitchen door. He turned to survey the wedding party with what he hoped was a look of disinterest.
“Now, if you’ll just sign here, ma’am, your current marriage will be dissolved, and you can get on with marrying this gentleman.
” A round man with a smiling face and cheeks as red as holly berries held out a pen to Hannah.
His gaze caught Rafe’s as he looked at Hannah.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Come to see this happy couple be married?”
Every person in the room turned to look at Rafe and Jackson. Jackson continued chewing on the bread, unfazed. Rafe fought to keep a disinterested expression even as Hannah’s eyes widened and her mouth shaped into a little “o.”
“Man out front said folks were getting hitched in here,” Jackson said around a mouthful of bread. “Figured we’d join the party. Provided it’s all right with the young miss.” He nodded at Hannah.
“We don’t need an audience,” the man Rafe presumed was Donahue said. He was a squirrely looking fellow, with an impatient expression and a fine suit.
“Please, Jack,” Hannah said, looking up at him. “Let them stay. What can it hurt?”
Donahue cast a disgusted glance back at the two of them. “Fine. We’ll have a real ceremony and a big party back in New York. This is only a formality. Get on with signing.”
Hannah’s face pinched in worry as she gripped the pen.
It wasn’t hard to guess that Donahue had paid some attorney to draft up papers annulling her marriage to Rafe.
She dipped it into the ink and paused. That snake Donahue had his hand wrapped tightly around her other arm, clearly afraid to let her go.
She paused with the pen over the document. “This is wrong, Mr. Brown. You’ve spelled our last name incorrectly.”
Donahue’s hand tightened on her arm in response, likely in response to “our last name.” Rafe clenched his fists at his side.
Mr. Brown leaned over the pages on the table. “I see. Well, that’s easily remedied. You may sign, and I’ll ensure it’s fixed later.” He tapped the page and smiled again.
Rafe looked at Jackson. He was past ready to step in. The other man shook his head ever so slightly.
Rafe ground his teeth. He was losing the ability to look uninterested.
“Where’s the supper?” a voice came from the hall.
Vale murmured something in response.
“You think I care about that? We’re hungry.” The voice sounded angrier, and another one joined in.
“Go on and sign so we can get this done,” Donahue said, casting an irritated look toward the door. He shoved Hannah forward. She stumbled and caught herself on the table—and that was all Rafe could take.
“It looks like the lady doesn’t want to sign your paper.” He moved forward, eyes fixed on Donahue.
Donahue pointed a finger in his direction. “This doesn’t involve you. Watch quietly or get out.”
The commotion beyond the door grew, a roar behind the furor building in Rafe’s veins. Hannah stared at him, her arm still trapped in Donahue’s grip.
“I’m involved.” Rafe tacked on a few choice descriptive words to let Donahue know exactly what he thought of him.
The man tilted his head. “Who are you?”
Rafe opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, a crowd of people rushed through the door.