Tom's Angel (20 page)

Phillip stared across the room for a long moment.

Marietta touched his arm lightly. “Phillip, what is it?”

“
I know that name. Trying to remember where I've heard it. You said Amos hadn't come up with anything?”

“
He apparently tried to talk to Richard. No luck.”

“
I have a hand, Jeb Hackett, who bets practically every dime he earns working for me on horse races. Could be he'll know the name.”

“
Is he close to the house?” Tom couldn't believe it. If Jeb Hackett could give them some information about this horse, there might be a way.

“
He's on the far side of the ranch, mending fence. Isn't due back until next week. I'll send someone to fetch him, but I doubt they'd get back until the weekend, at least. When's the race?”

“
Saturday, one o'clock, at the Cold Spring track.”

“
I'll poke around, see if I can learn anything about that horse, Tom. When Jeb gets back, we'll see what he knows, too. And, we'll be there for the race. You can count on it.”

Marietta chimed in.
“Of course we'll be there. Rosalie will need supporters. She'll need you, most of all, Tom, but it helps to have a whole family on your side.”

Tom pulled to his feet and embraced Marietta, then shook hands with Phillip again.
“I can't thank you enough. When I came here, I had no idea there would be anything you could do, other than listen.”

“
Always, Tom. When Jeb gets back, I’ll send him to the hotel.”

“
Thanks. I have to get back.”

“
Not on an empty stomach. I know you're starving, and it won't take me long to scare up something for an early supper.” Marietta went to the kitchen.

Tom knew better than to argue.

He didn't get back to Fort Worth until late. He expected Rosalie's house to be dark, but saw a light in her bedroom window. He tied his horse out back and knocked lightly on the kitchen door. After a moment, the door eased open a bit.

“
Tom?”

“
I have some news.”

She invited him in.
Without another word, he held her close and kissed her. These few hours away had seemed like days. His fingers in her hair, her body pressed against his through the thin chemise, the only thing she had on, other than her bloomers, with her mouth against his, open and hungry, left him breathing hard, wanting her as never before.

She led the way to her bedroom.
He removed his boots and eased onto the narrow bed where they lay side by side, her back against him, cradled in his arms, his hand caressing while he kissed her neck and shoulder.

“
I missed you something awful today.”

“
I missed you, too.” She sighed. “But you're here now, and that's the important thing. How are the Mallorys?”

“
Welcoming as always.”

“
Did you tell them everything?”

“
Yes. I thought Phillip might know something about this horse Strickland is bringing in for the race Saturday.”

She pivoted within his arms until she lay on her back, able to see his face.
She traced the side of his face with her fingers. She'd thought about him all day, yearning every minute for his touch, his kiss. Late this afternoon, she'd made a decision. After Saturday, they might never have a chance to be together again. These few precious days before the race had to be used to full advantage. She'd made up her mind what she wanted from him, and hoped he'd comply. So far, he didn't seem to have any objection at all.

He kissed her again, then leaned back, willing himself to remember his promise not to make love to her until they were married.

Recognizing his hesitance, and the reason for it, she decided to change the subject. “What did Phillip say about the horse?” she whispered in the darkness.

“
He has a hand who bets on horses quite a bit, but he's off mending fence until Friday. Phillip is sending someone to find out what he knows about Strickland's horse.” He trailed one finger over her lips, up to her forehead and across, then back to her lips again, kissing what he'd touched.

“
Apparently not. The horse he's bringing is called Triumph. Mean anything to you?”

“
Nothing. Rusty has never raced a horse with that name, that I know of, anyway.”

T
his new information reinforced her earlier decision. Rosalie unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside to caress his chest. His breathing became ragged and punctuated with shudders.

“
Rosalie, we promised.”

“
No, you promised. I've made up my mind about this. You might as well get used to it so you can enjoy it. I won't have you feeling guilty.”

“
You're sure about this?”

“
We have no idea what will happen after Saturday. It would be foolish to waste the time we have together between now and then.”

“
All right, but there's something we have to do first.”

“
I hope it's something quick.”

He propped on one elbow and gazed into her eyes.
“I, Tom, take thee, Rosalie, to be my beloved wife, now and forever.”

With tears choking her words to a whisper, she responded.
“I, Rosalie, take thee, Tom, to be my beloved husband. Now and forever.”

“
Amen.”

Tom lingered over her lips, teasing her with his tongue, until she pressed her mouth over his, She eased him back onto the bed and sat up, pulled the chemise over her head, then eased her bloomers off and away.

Tom leaped from the bed and undressed so fast he ripped several buttons from his shirt and one from his pants, then hastily rejoined her on the bed.

“
Love me, Tom. Please.”

He grinned.
“Yes, ma'am. Mrs. McCabe.”

He
wanted to take it slow, but his body disagreed. Gasping with mounting pleasure, he became, at last, part of the woman he'd come to love in these few short days. Rhythmically joining, rejoining, he kissed the parts of her he’d dreamed about kissing, rubbed her back in lazy circles, pulling her closer and closer.

Rosalie was drowning in the ecstasy of passion for Tom.
She wanted to prolong the exquisite building of sensation, to savor the feel of total belonging she'd never known. Not only had this man brought hope and love to her life, but he'd needed her, too, to make his life and soul complete. She felt it as certainly as she felt the flood of emotion and passion engulfing her body.

“
I…can’t wait…much longer,” he murmured.

“
I love you, Tom. I love you.”

H
e accelerated the pace. There would be no stopping, no slowing, no turning back.

She tightened her legs around him,
then held him when he when he groaned, shuddered, and collapsed onto the bed, pulling her up on his chest.

“
Damn.”

He realized she was crying.

“
Rosalie?”

“
Wonderful. It felt…wonderful.”

He tipped her chin upward and waited for her to kiss him.

“Forever and ever.”

Somehow, they would find a way to be together.

Chapter 16

At dawn the next morning, Tom woke Rosalie with tender kisses and a roaming hand that brought a smile to her lips.

“
I swear, Mr. McCabe, you have the most talented fingers.”

“
Why, thank you, Mrs. McCabe. I'd have to say you possess equal talents.”

Her breathing quickened
. “You do that so well.” She stretched, spreading the delicious sensations throughout her body.

“
I want you on top this morning, where I can see you in the daylight.”

She complied, sitting tall and straight,
with morning sunshine slanting through curtains onto her skin.

“
What if someone should happen by?” She sank forward until their bare torsos touched in every place possible.

“
Let them find their own wives. You're mine.”

Indeed, she'd become Tom's, body and soul
, even if for a few days.

He'd begun to move under her.
She matched his movements, feeling the tension build inside her again.

“
God, woman, but you make me crazy.”

She nibbled on his
neck, then his lips, pulling back just enough to make him long for her. It didn’t take long for him to pull her against him so he could complete the kiss and their coupling.

Lying together afterward, Tom ran his fingers through her tangled hair.
“Know what we're going to do first thing this morning?”

“
Can't.”

“
Why?”

“
We made love first thing this morning. It'll have to be second thing.”

“
Good point. We're getting married.”

Rosalie propped on one elbow, twirling
the hair on his chest around her fingertips, trying to keep her breathing steady. She had to be sure he was serious before letting him know what marriage would mean to her.

“
I thought we got married last night.”

“
We did. I want a piece of paper that says so. Today.”

“
Are you sure that's what you want?” She prayed with all her heart he'd say yes.

“
It is.”

Thank you, Lord!
“I'm afraid it can't be second thing this morning, though.”

“
Why not?”

“
It'll have to be third.” She reached for him beneath the covers. “I'm waging war on you. If I lose, I'm yours to do with as you please.” He was, anyway. “If I win, though, you have to make love to me until I say stop.”

Tom grinned as she worked magic on him again.
“I'll save you the trouble. I surrender.”

<><><><>

Rosalie suggested wearing the emerald dancing dress for their wedding, and Tom hadn't argued. She resembled a princess in that dress.

“
I'd marry you even if you wore nothing at all.”

“
That was last night. This is in front of a bunch of other people and not just you and me. Indulge me, please, so I can wear the prettiest dress I've ever owned.”

“
Yes'm.”

Tom knew there'd be hell to pay when he got home
, and with Trina when she heard they'd gotten married without her being there, but they didn't have much time. The race could go either way. If Rusty lost to Triumph, and the talk in town supported that possibility, then Rosalie wouldn't have to face Strickland alone. He'd have to deal with both of them as man and wife.

“
I'll get the buggy. I won't be gone long. We’ll have the ceremony at the hotel. You can dress in my room.”

“
I'll be ready.”

When they got to the El Paso,
Tom saw Josh running toward them. “The depot! That horse is coming in! The one they say can beat Rusty!”

He squeezed Rosalie’s hands.
“I'm going to check it out. I won't be too long.”

“
I don’t suppose I should go with you.”

“
I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“
I'll be here, waiting.”

Josh
had fetched a horse from the livery. Tom pulled the boy up behind him, and followed the crowd to the depot.

“
There she is!” Josh cried happily. “Rounding that last bend!” He slipped to the ground and ran toward the platform.

Although eager to see the horse Strickland would be riding in the race, Tom felt intensely nervous over confronting the competition.
They'd never expected Strickland to bring his own horse, all the way from Denver. This was damn soon after agreeing to the race, too.

The locomotive slid to a stop with a deafening expulsion of steam and the squeal of brakes.
The crowd stepped back to avoid the heat, steam and cinders, then crowded close to the front of the passenger car.

“
The guys say there's a man traveling with the horse.”

“
What's his name?”

“
Don't know. Want me to find out?”

“
Make it quick.”

Josh
squirmed through the crowd, stayed gone about five minutes, then squirmed back.

“
Nobody's heard his name, but he's real short.”

“
Thanks, son.”

“
Any time.” Josh ran off to join his friends.

Zane Strickland strutted across the platform to the second freight car, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly.
Tom couldn't decide if he might be checking for the marshal, or if he just wanted to attract the crowd's attention. Either way, the crowd gathered around him, calling, “Let's see that horse!” and “Open 'er up!”

Zane signaled for the door to be opened.
It scraped back on gritty rails, revealing only darkness inside, followed by a loud whinny that quieted the crowd and left them murmuring in expectation.

Tom stepped closer.
He hated being part of the spectacle, but had to see what Rusty would be up against.

Two of the brakemen positioned a ramp at the door, and one of them went inside.
Finally, he reappeared, leading the horse.

Any hope Tom might have harbored that Zane could be beaten disappeared at the sight of the slender-legged chestnut creature clumping down the ramp.
The horse's head, refined and intelligent, with big, bold eyes, rested on an elegantly arched neck. Sharply sloped shoulders, well-defined withers, and strong, muscular hind quarters with the tail set high spelled one breed only.

A thoroughbred, no doubt about it.
A bona-fide race horse.

Commotion in the crowd pulled Tom's gaze from the animal.
Appearing at the horse's side was a man no taller than Tom's shoulders, and a man behind him in a brown suit who looked familiar, somehow.

The little man shouted at Zane.
“Be careful! This is no plow horse. And get all these people away from him! If he spooks, he could be injured and you don't make enough in a year to pay the horse doc’s bill.” He took the reins and spoke softly to the horse, quivering with excitement.

Tom knew, without a doubt, this was a jockey
, the one who would ride Triumph in the race Saturday. The man in the suit said something to the jockey, then disappeared into the crowd before Tom could get a better look at him.

The brakeman tried to clear everyone back from the platform to give the horse room to pass, but no one seemed willing to give up space to anyone else.

A gunshot thundered, hushing the crowd, sending Triumph into a frenzy. His flailing hooves convinced everyone, in a hurry, to clear back. The jockey clung to the reins as though his hands were tied to them. Eventually, he managed to calm the horse.

Zane, holding his gun, barrel smoking, approached slowly.
“You got him under control, Sam?”

“
I had him under control until you fired that gun! Don't you have any brains to go with all that money?”

Tom watched carefully as Zane moved closer, mumbling so the crowd couldn't hear.
The jockey pressed his lips into a tight line, shaking with anger, saying nothing in response.

So that's how it is, Tom thought.
The rider, Sam, knows the horse better than the owner and speaks his mind, until Zane feels he's losing face in front of everyone. Then it came to him. Where he’d heard the name Triumph before. He had to be sure, though.

Sam led Triumph away.
Zane addressed the crowd.

“
I know all of you are familiar with the Kincannon gelding. Well, come Saturday, Triumph is going to leave that sorry piece of horse flesh in the dust. Place your bets, gentlemen.” He stalked away.

A man standing near Tom told a friend,
“What does he mean, 'sorry piece of horse flesh'? Rusty's beaten my best horses. Nothing sorry about him, or my horses, either, for that matter.”

Conversation throughout the crowd seemed to follow that same track.
Tom headed back to the hotel after stopping to send a wire to Lubbock. Josh caught up with him and rode behind him on the horse, back to the hotel.

“
Ain't he the finest horse you ever laid eyes on? I never seen nothing like that in all my life. Damn!” The boy couldn't stand still, fidgeting and hopping around with excitement.

“
Be still. You're sitting on the horse's kidneys back there. Have a little respect. And watch your language. You aren't old enough yet to cuss.” Josh didn't say anything. “He's a fine horse, for sure,” Tom added, feeling bad about scolding the boy so much. An idea flashed through Tom's mind. “Do you ride much, son?”

“
All the time. I can ride any horse you put me on, I swear!”

“
Don't swear. If you take to cussing and swearing now, you'll be a hooligan or an outlaw when you get to be my age.” Scolding again, but the boy needed some guidance.

“
Yes, sir.” Josh ducked his head.

“
Have you ever ridden Rusty?”

His head popped up again.
“No, sir, but I always wanted to. Mr. Kincannon wouldn't let nobody but him ride his horse.”

“
If you'll meet me at Rusty's stable in about an hour, I'll let you ride him.”

“
Wow! Wait'll the guys hear this!”

“
Whoa! This has to be a secret between you and me. Promise you won't tell anyone, or forget it.”

The idea of a secret obviously appealed to him.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I won't tell nobody. I swear! Uh, that is, I promise.”

“
Good boy. Have Rusty saddled with the smallest saddle you can find.”

“
I got just the one! It was my sister's before she decided horses were too smelly and gave it to me.” At the hotel, he dashed off around the corner, hollering, “See you in an hour!”

So much for keeping it quiet.
Tom hurried upstairs. He wanted to tell Rosalie about Triumph before someone could beat him to it. He took the stairs two at a time, knocked softly, then entered.

Rosalie sat at a desk by the window, with paper and pen in front of her, wearing a blue dress
instead of the green one. When she gave him a sad smile, he could tell she'd already heard.

“
There's no way Rusty can beat a race horse, Tom.” She stared at the paper on the desk.

“
Maybe not, but we might be able to even the odds just a little.”

“
How?”

“
I won't know for sure until we see how well Josh can ride.”

She caught on immediately.
“Put the least amount of weight possible on Rusty. That's a great idea, Tom! Will it be enough, though?”

“
If we could tie some rocks to Triumph's tail, I'd feel better about it.”

She picked up the paper and held it toward him.
“I've been writing up the terms of the wager. Perhaps I should add rocks to the deal?”

Tom took the agreement and read it carefully, feeling a knot form in his gut as the words scrolled through his mind.
It boiled down to “winner take all.”

Tom dropped the paper on the table and took her into his arms.
“I love you. No matter what happens, I'll always love you. Even if Rusty loses, we'll get shed of Zane Strickland the minute I can arrange it.”

“
I know.”

In Tom's arms, almost anything seemed possible.

“
And now, you have to put your green dress on so we can find the preacher and get married.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Rosalie, that horse doesn't change a thing.”