Lady Gone Bad by Sabine Starr Page B

“Better yet, till we cross the Red River. Once we’re in Indian Territory, we’ll be safe. You can tell me about this Lampkin. We can figure out a plan.”
    Rafe narrowed his eyes to a squint, drilling her with a long, steady, assessing look. He gave a curt nod. “Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be taking the advice of Lady Gone Bad.”

Chapter 16
    R afe sat in an outhouse. Dim light slanted in through the quarter moon cut in the gray wood of the closed door. Golden light from a kerosene lantern illuminated ladies lingerie in the popular Wish Book, Montgomery Ward’s impressive 240-page, 10,000-item mail order catalog. Rafe had plenty of wishes. And, at the moment, most of them involved Lady. While he contemplated which lacy undergarment would look best on her luscious body, he listened to her splash around naked as a jaybird in a galvanized tin tub just outside a ramshackle hay barn.
    She had more tricks up her sleeve than a seasoned gambler, a fact he was coming to appreciate. Once he’d made up his mind to run from the law with her, they’d ridden hard out of Paris, determined to put as much distance as possible between them and their wanted posters. Safety lay on the north side of the Red River, but with tired horses and night coming on, they’d decided to play it smart and cross the next morning. That left them in desperate need of a safe haven. Once more Lady had come through with a plan. Now they were hidden in a lonely spot just south of the Red River.
    For the first time since meeting her, Rafe had a little space and time to gather his wits, strength, and focus. He wished he was using it to good purpose, but about all he could conjure up were images of Lady putting on a show in that tin tub.
    She sang while a mangy bird dog howled a few octaves higher. Quite a duet. Felt like he ought to buy the dog a drink.
    He couldn’t decide whether to be mad or glad. True he had more time with the most fascinating woman in the West, but on the other hand, he was up the creek in a leaky boat. He hoped he could trust Lady, at least enough to forge a trail so convoluted no lawman could follow them. He also hoped they could trust the couple who owned the place where they were hiding out. Lady had said she’d done the farmers a favor once and they’d be glad to help. Seemed they were. He sure couldn’t complain about the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, biscuits, and blackberry cobbler. He’d eaten his fill until he couldn’t hold another crumb.
    The couple had given them permission to use the barn on the far side of their property, and their dog had accompanied them. He wondered how Lady could engender so much trust when she was a known outlaw. It made no sense. But since he’d met her, not a lot in his life had made any sense. Now his own face was on a wanted poster. He couldn’t hardly bear thinking of the consequences, but he must address them sooner or later. Not just yet though.
    He finished his business, set the catalog aside a few pages lighter, picked up the lantern, and eased open the door. Moonlight brightened the evening. Frogs sang lustily in a nearby pond. Lightning bugs flashed on and off as they chased each other. The scent of wild flowers filled the air. It was a night made for lovers.
    Even though he and Lady were on opposite sides of life, it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her attributes. Not that he trusted her. That’d be like not heeding a rattler’s warning. Still, a man in his position would be a fool not to get help where he could find it. He’d taken the handcuffs off her, but he’d stowed them in his saddlebags next to her arrest warrant.
    An evening like this reminded him of home and his sister Crystabelle. Twenty-nine now, he’d been old enough to remember fear and hunger during the Civil War, but also the warmth and security of a winter fire in a snug log cabin in the Kentucky mountains. When his father went off to war, Rafe had become