The Wedding Ransom

Gentleman Rafe Malone, the slickest thief in Texas, finds himself searching for buried pirate treasure in order to save lovely Maggie St. John's home--and to steal her heart as well

Chapter One

Republic of Texas, 1845

The bite of razor-sharp steel against his jugular jerked Rafe Malone from the oblivion of sleep. Beneath the warmth of the springtime sun he lay frozen, his eyes closed, his senses as sharp as the blade at his throat. Quiet breaths, distinctive scents, and the shifting of shadows relayed the information that three men, possibly four, surrounded him. The thrill of danger coursed through his blood. Here, with death but a slash away, he felt more alive than he had in years.

It was all Rafe could do to keep from grinning.

A sting of pain stroked across his neck and Rafe opened his eyes. Sunlight blinded him at first, then four figures came into focus. Good Lord. He blinked and looked again. Pirates? Gray-haired pirates? On his central Texas ranch? A laugh slid past the cutlass threatening his throat.

"Did you hear that, Ben?" growled the man holding the blade. He lifted a finger and traced the old, ugly scar running across his cheekbone, then tugged at hit silver hoop earring. "He cackled at us. I have my blade at his throat and he laughs. That's proof enough for me."

The tallest of the men nodded, the diamond stud in his right ear twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. Wrinkles framed the intelligent blue eyes studying Rafe from beneath bushy salt-and-pepper brows. Clothed in a flowing white shirt and close-fitting breeches, he stood in a spread-legged stance, his hands braced upon his hips. He could have been standing on a ship's deck instead of a field of green grass beside a shallow creek. "Aye, Gus," he said in a voice ringing with command. "I heard it. I guess we all know what that means."

"No!" A third man loomed over Rafe, fierce dark eyes glaring from beneath the red bandanna tied around his head. He was short and stocky, and with his meaty fists clenched and nostrils flaring, he looked mean as an old range bull. "It's not enough. Go ahead and stick him, Gus. See what happens then."

"I'll tell you what'll happen then, Snake," said the fourth man in a raspy, gravelly voice. "He'll bleed." He hunkered down beside Rafe and smoothly confiscated the pistol at the prone man's hip. "I told you Snake would want to slice him up. He hasn't killed a man in months. You know what the smell of blood does to him."

A maniacal chuckle issued from bloodthirsty Snake's mouth.

Rafe's attention shifted from pirate to pirate, observing their solemn nods, trying unsuccessfully to figure out where this conversation was leading. The fourth buccaneer tilted his head, and his horseshoe-shaped sapphire earring captured Rafe's notice. Expensive little trinkets, these fellows wore.

And interesting old scars they sported, too. Rafe winced at the ring encircling the fourth pirate's neck. At some point in his life, this fellow had been hanged Rafe swallowed instinctively, having come close to a similar fate once himself.

Guess this teaches me to take an afternoon nap, he thought, as a gentle puff of cedar-scented wind stirred the bushes around him. After being up the better part of last night helping Dapple Annie bring her foal into the world, he had only wanted a little bit of shut-eye. When he'd stretched out on a comfy bed of clover and succumbed to the lure of sleep, all had been quiet and peaceful around the Lone Star Ranch.

Having his sleep interrupted wasn't exactly unexpected. Life on the central Texas horse farm in springtime did tend to run from one crisis to another. But pirates? The very idea of it struck him dumb. His spread lay a good three hundred miles west of the coast. Damn near thirty years had passed since Jean Laffite said au revoir to Galveston Island. Who were these men? Why the hell were they here?

Did they honestly intend to kill him?

The one with the diamond in his ear, Ben, appeared to be the leader. Gus-with-the-cutlass looked to him and asked, "What do you want me to do, Captain?"

Rafe concluded it might be to his benefit to interrupt the answer. He lifted a hand and pushed the blade away from his neck, taking care not to betray any pain as the cutlass sliced into his palm. Propping himself up on his elbows, his fingers in position to reach for the knife in his trouser pocket, he drawled, "Why don't you boys try heading southeast? Y'all are obviously lost." He jerked his head to the right. "The Gulf of Mexico is thataway."

Cutlass Gus, Snake, and rope-ringed fourth man whipped their heads toward Ben. The captain slowly, solemnly nodded.

What happened next made Rafe shake his head in wonder. Gus blew a sigh of what sounded like relief as he sheathed his cutlass. The fourth pirate grinned and held out his hand, wriggling his fingers toward Snake who muttered, "Well, clam it."

Clam it? Rafe silently repeated. What kind of a curse was that for a bloodthirsty pirate?

The trio of heavy gold hoops in Snake's left ear clinked against one another as he yanked off his bandanna. He reached inside the cloth and removed a wad of bills.

Prepared for a more lethal weapon than cash, Rafe let out the breath he'd been holding.

Snake shoved the money toward the fourth man. "I can't believe you actually won the bet, Lucky Nichols. You never win anything. You are the most unlucky man alive."

The fourth man, Lucky Nichols, kissed the bills, then gleefully stuck them in his vest pocket, along with Rafe's gun. "This is a sign that my luck is changing, I can feel it."

Snake snorted and reached out a hand to flick a bug off Lucky's shoulder. "What you're feeling is a caterpillar crawling up your back. Our bets financed my bad habits for the past thirty-two years, and I don't see that changing. This was a fluke."

"This outcome was predetermined," interjected the captain, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "I warned you not to bet him, Snake. A band of washedup old cutthroats like us never stood a chance of frightening the likes of Gentleman Rafe Malone."

Rafe wondered if the Republic of Texas had put in a mental hospital down the road in Bastrop and neglected to guard the gates. Sitting all the way up, he demanded, "What the hell is going on?"

The leader bowed his head. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Malone. I believe introductions are in order. I am Captain Benjamin Scovall. With me are my colleagues, Gus Thomas -- "

Cutlass Gus saluted.

" -- Snake MacKenzie"

He folded his arms and scowled.

" -- and Lucky Nichols."

Lucky gave his earring a twist and nodded while

Captain Ben continued. "We were attracted by your exemplary reputation, Mr. Malone, but since you been out of the...business for some time now, a test of your courage was deemed appropriate."

"So you dressed for a costume ball and put a knife to my neck?"

Ben fingered the billowing blouse he wore and shrugged. "Our dress is no costume, but the garb of our youth. It can be intimidating, don't you agree?"

"Yeah, but not all of us could get into his old clothes," Gus said, looking pointedly at Snake MacKenzie's protruding belly.

The short man turned a glare on his companion that widened Rafe's eyes. A look like that could scare the ugly off a buzzard. "I am pleased to say you passed our test," Ben continued. "You are a brave one, Gentleman Rafe Malone."

"He's a cocky blighter," Snake added unhappily.

Rafe gazed around the ragtag group. What was it the captain had said? Exemplary reputation? Somehow he didn't think the ol' swashbuckler was talking about the horse-breeding business Rafe had established with his old friend Luke Prescott. Four years had passed since Rafe had last committed an illegal act. Four years since Luke Prescott tracked him to his east Texas hideout dangling an amnesty from the government in exchange for a little help with a particularly vicious band of murderers.

Rafe rolled to his feet and casually brushed the dirt from his trousers. "Like you said, I'm out of the business. I gave up thieving years ago, so if you're here looking for the gentleman in Rafe Malone you've wasted your time. I'm plain old Rafe, now."

"You're not a gentleman?" Frowning, Snake MacKenzie folded his arms. "Maggie will want a gentleman."

"I'm not a thief," Rafe replied, eyeing each of the four older men in turn. "Not anymore. I have a deal with the Texas Rangers. The people of Texas get to keep their money, and I get to keep my neck out of a noose." After a moment's pause, he added, "Who's Maggie?"

"Mary Margaret St. John," Ben explained. "She's our granddaughter."

Rafe quirked a brow. Four grandfathers?

Snake MacKenzie snorted. "I thought this fellow was a gentleman. It's why I agreed to this plan."

"It doesn't matter whether he's a gentleman or not," Lucky said, a threat obvious in his voice. "He's not getting anywhere near our Maggie."

"You're dreaming, Lucky." Gus shook his head sadly. "You are all dreaming. I've been trying to tell you that for some time now. Whether we like it or not, Maggie is a woman full-grown. For all our trying to mold her into a gentle lady, she is her father's daughter, curse his black soul. She'll be wanting herself a man before long." He jerked his head toward Rafe. "Mark my words, she'll take one look at the shoulders on this fellow and swoon. He's just the type to attract her. She'll like his attitude as much as she likes his looks. And we all know how he'll react once he gets a look at our Maggie."

Snake MacKenzie moved like a twenty-year-old as he reached over and grabbed Gus's cutlass from its scabbard. Before Rafe could react, the blade was back at his neck. MacKenzie spoke through gritted teeth. "Touch even a hair on her head and you'll lose your own, Malone. Understand?"

"Put the weapon away, Snake," Ben instructed. "By all accounts, Mr. Malone is an intelligent man. Knowing Mary Margaret is under our protection, he'll not trifle with her."

Gus rubbed the scar on his cheek. "I'm telling you, he's not the one we need to worry about. It's that little gal of ours. By sending her to that fancy school, we tried to mold her into something she's not. We have quashed her spirit for too many years. Have any of you taken a good look at her lately? Did you listen to her in the courtroom? Our little Maggie is all grown up. She's going to want a man!"

"Well I don't want a woman," Rafe snapped, backing away from the cutlass.

"You want a man!" Lucky exclaimed, an expression of alarm flickering across his face.

Rafe lost his patience. "What I want is the opportunity to enjoy an uninterrupted nap on my own land. Alone! And you can damn well rest assured that if I were in the mood for a woman, she sure as hell wouldn't be the female offspring of a band of over-the-hill buccaneers!"

MacKenzie's complexion flushed red. "Are you saying our Maggie isn't good enough for you? I'll have you know she's the prettiest, sweetest, most gentle and loving girl in Texas. In all of America, for that matter. Maybe even the entire world. It doesn't matter that the lass is our granddaughter. You won't be able to resist her. You will try to take her to your bed and then I'll have to kill you." He turned to Ben and heaved a sigh. "This won't work. We may as well go home. He'll die before he steals our treasure back for us."

Rafe dropped his head back, his eyes shut. "I'm dreaming, that's what this is. I'm really asleep and having a nightmare."

The chuckle began softly, then swelled to a fullbodied guffaw. Ben Scovall laughed for a full minute before regaining control. "I haven't been so entertained since we took that troupe of actors captive off the coast of Trinidad." He clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "Relax, son. Allow me to explain why we have come."

Rafe's wasn't in the mood to relax. That had ended when a blade pricked his skin. But surprisingly, neither was he of a mind to throw these intruders off his property. In the midst of MacKenzie's diatribe a few moments ago, he had said something that caught Rafe's attention. The pirate had spoken a word -- two words, actually -- that appealed to the side of Rafe he'd stifled for a long time now: "steal" and "treasure."

Damn, but at times he missed the life.

For the past four years, Rafe had lived on the right side of the law. But prior to that, he had been unarguably the most successful thief in Texas. He'd stolen almost everything under the sun -- horses, guns, cash. Anything of value. He'd learned his craft young, stealing food to survive, clothes to wear, all the necessities an orphan required to stay alive. He'd taken a hiatus from thievery during those years the Prescotts took him in and treated him like their own, but after the Texas Revolution -- after the debacle following the battle of San Jacinto -- Rafe's outlook on life changed. He'd been betrayed by men in power -- the officers of the Army of the Republic of Texas -- based on the ugly, false accusations of his half brother Nick Callahan. As a result, he went back to stealing with a vengeance, until his best friend, Texas Ranger Luke Prescott, worked a deal to get him amnesty for his crimes. An amnesty subject to revocation should Gentleman Rafe Malone ever again take to stealing in Texas.

Rafe wouldn't break his word to Luke for any price, but he was a curious man by nature. The mystery and ramblings of these old men appealed to that long unappeased part of him that craved adventure. What would it hurt to listen to them?

He scooped his hat from the ground and placed it on his head, eyeing Lucky, Gus, and Snake MacKenzie before fixing his gaze on Ben. "Why don't y'all come on up to the house. I have some decent whiskey, or maybe rum."

"Do you have any wine?" MacKenzie asked. "Bordeaux, preferably. It's heading on to four o'clock. Time for our dose of Lake Bliss water. We've found it mixes best with Bordeaux."

Lake Bliss water? Rafe didn't think he even wanted to ask. "I'll see what I can do," he said dryly.

The visitors walked their horses as Rafe led them toward the log dwelling a short distance away. Built in the two-room dogtrot style common in Texas, the house was small but comfortable. Rafe had lived here for a little over two years. The curtains on the window and cushions on the chairs made it a bit fancy for a bachelor's abode, in Rafe's opinion. His views hadn't mattered squat once Luke's wife Honor had taken it to mind to spruce the place up.

When Rafe and Luke had decided to go in as partners on a horse-breeding business, the Prescotts had sold their old place, Duvall Farms, and bought the land adjacent to his. They had built a large new home on the other side of the hill from Rafe's, which was handy because the Winning Ticket Ranch had a damn fine cook.

Honor liked to mother -- a good thing considering she now had four children and an elderly mother-in-law to tend and she'd taken Rafe on as a project. Other than the matchmaking, he mostly enjoyed the attention. If the pirates gave the bows and ruffles on his frilly yellow gingham window curtains a second glance, he didn't care. Rafe was nothing if not confident in his manhood.

Lucky Nichols admired the roses decorating the cabin's front wall, but as they walked indoors it was Snake MacKenzie who truly surprised Rafe by saying, "Lookie there, Gus. Malone has kitchen curtains just like mine."

Rafe also had a kitchen table large enough to accommodate the entire Prescott family when they came to call, so he gestured for the men to take a seat, then rummaged around a stack of storage crates until he found a dusty bottle of port. "This will have to do," he said, pouring a round for the pirates. Having sworn off liquor for the most part himself, he filled his own glass with cider. "So," he said, taking a seat. "You fellas want to tell me what this is all about?"

Lucky stood and tugged a small flat bottle from his back pocket. He pulled out the cork with a pop. "This is what it's about."

Rafe lifted the clear glass flask and eyed the cloudy liquid inside. Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed. And grimaced. Rotten eggs. "That smells worse than turned buttermilk."

"But it can make an old man feel like a young buck," Gus said.

"Or give a sick girl relief from her pain," Ben added in a quiet, solemn voice.

The pirates shared a look that had the hairs on Rafe's neck standing at attention. Then Gus snorted and reached into his shirt. Pulling out a broadside, he tossed it onto the table.

"Hotel Bliss?" Rafe read aloud.

"The finest spa west of Saratoga, New York," Lucky said, beaming. "Our curative waters will doctor all sorts of ills, and our mud baths will not only ease your aches, they'll make your skin soft as a newborn's behind."

Glancing at the old pirate's leathery skin, Rafe swallowed a pithy remark and read from the broadside. "'Located in the beautiful Big Thicket of deep east Texas. Romantic dance parties. Picnics and buggy races.' A billiard saloon?"

Snake MacKenzie linked his fingers over his belly and leaned back in his chair. "The hotel is closed at the moment, but that's only a temporary setback. You see, the lass is looking to attract visitors on holiday, not simply those in need of medical miracles. On account of what she went through herself, it's real important to her that sick folk get to rub shoulders with healthy folk every chance they get."

On account of what she went through? Rafe was intrigued. He'd always been a curious sort, and the more the pirates talked, the more he wanted to know about Maggie St. John. What was this about a courtroom? And of course, he hadn't forgotten the treasure, either.

"Help me out, here, fellas. I'm having trouble making the connection between bottled water and a health spa, Mary Margaret St. John, and waking from my afternoon nap to a Caribbean toothpick against my throat. In other words, where does treasure come into it?"

"Why don't you tell him, Ben?" Gus said. "It's your idea. You're the one who figured out how we're gonna save Maggie."

Ben poured a long splash of the bottled water into his glass of port, obviously gathering his thoughts. "I am afraid my friends got ahead of themselves in explaining our purpose for approaching you. What they mentioned -- the spa, the water, even Mary Margaret -- are our personal motives for making this trip and do not concern you." He reached for the saddlebags he'd carried with him into the house and tossed open the flap.

Rafe's gaze fixed on the canvas bag Scovall withdrew. Ben tossed it onto the center of the table, and the old familiar chink as it landed sent Rafe's heart beating double time. Coins. Gold coins? At Ben's goahead nod, he reached for the pouch and confirmed his suspicion. Old gold coins. "Spanish doubloons."

"Aye. A mere sampling of the pirate booty we collected over the years. The value of that bag is approximately three thousand of today's dollars. We have at least a hundred times that amount in gold, jewels, and other riches hidden away."

A shiver raced up Rafe's spine. He'd been poor too long -- a thief too long-not to react to that kind of figure.

Ben Scovall smiled at him knowingly. "We chose our treasure hoard carefully, Mr. Malone, and for many years we have been able to access it whenever necessary. That, I'm afraid, has changed. And that is why we have come to you."

Rafe thought of what MacKenzie had said earlier about stealing their treasure back for them. "So you're hoping I'll steal back what someone else stole from you after you stole it from the owners in the first place."

Gus snapped gnarled fingers. "The man is quick, too."

"And you're out of luck," Rafe replied. He shoved back his chair and stood. "Sorry, fellas, but if I'm caught stealing in the Republic of Texas, the rangers will revoke my pardon and put a noose around my neck. I'm not the man for this job."

"The impatience of youth," Ben said with a sigh. "Sit back down, Malone. I think you are the man for this job, and if you will allow me to finish my explanation, I believe you will agree. The situation is not as simple as you think. This mission does involve danger, true. But unless the Texas Rangers have international jurisdiction, landing in a Texas prison is not one of those hazards. Tell me, Mr. Malone, do you consider yourself an adventurous man?"

Rafe set down his glass of cider with a thud. "Are you telling me your treasure isn't hidden in Texas?"

"Not even in the United States. Think about it. We are willing to negotiate a substantial fee for your services and at the same time we are offering a...holiday of adventure, one might describe it."

Adventure. Rafe twisted his wrist, swirling the cider in his glass as yearning filled him despite his better sense. He tried to hide it behind a sarcastic drawl. "So, other than a treasure hunt, what could I look forward to on this...holiday of adventure?"

"Could be some fighting," Lucky said, his eyes gleaming.

Ben gave him a disapproving stare. "Only, if your skills are rusty, Mr. Malone, and I doubt that is the case. You should be able to elude the difficult individuals who have taken up residence in the area. It is true that a successful conclusion of this task will require the use of stealth, cunning, and superior physical strength, but you, of course, possess all three."

Gus nudged Lucky with an elbow. His scar twisted on his cheek as he spoke softly from the side of his mouth. "Never heard the captain flatter a man before. He's almost as slick at that as he is with the ladies."

When Ben didn't react, Rafe wondered if the pirate captain wasn't a little hard of hearing. "Why don't you elaborate some on these 'difficult individuals.'"

Lucky, Gus, and MacKenzie shared a grimace, then looked toward their captain to reply. "It is an out-of-the-way part of the world," Ben said. "Being a Texan, you undoubtedly know such spots often attract a...scruffier element of society who tends to settle in among the natives. In this case, it is the descendants of those who settled the region with Captain Laffite after he left Texas years ago. The natives are -- "

"Yucatecs," Rafe interrupted, aware of the pirate king's destination after deserting Galveston over thirty years earlier. "They're also embroiled in a war, if I'm not mistaken. You hid your treasure in a jungle?"

Ben cocked his head and smiled. "We hid it in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Consider it, Malone. You will be gone six weeks. Two months at the very most. Think of turquoise water and unspoiled beaches. Riches beyond belief."

"You might as well throw in the other lure" Gus interrupted. "A beautiful woman to look at. Toss in a little rum, and life just doesn't get any better."

"Woman!" Snake MacKenzie slammed his fist down onto the table. "She is not going. Especially not with a man like this one. Besides, this is no pleasure cruise. What if the lass gets sick again? No, I simply won't hear of it!"

"Hearing has nothing to do with it," Gus said, his voice brimming with sorrow. "It'll take physical force to prevent Maggie from going. We may be mean sonofabitches on the high seas, but not a one of us has what it takes to raise a hand against our Maggie. Nope, we won't be able to stop her from tagging along."

Rafe glanced around the table. The woebegone expression on Lucky's face suggested he agreed with Gus. Rafe couldn't read a thing on Ben Scovall's countenance.

"She's been angling to go ever since we brought it up, you know it," Gus continued. "You're gonna have to let it go, Snake. Let her go. She's twenty-five years old. It's amazing we've been able to put this moment off as long as we have. We've done our best by Maggie, and we have to trust her to choose what she needs. If that means a bit of adventure with Malone here before she settles down with a good man, then we have to accept it."

Good man, Rafe thought, offended. What the hell am I, a prized pig?

"I'll be damned if I accept it." MacKenzie glared at Rafe. "I'll cut off his jewels first!"

Instinctively, Rafe pressed his thighs together.

"You won't hurt him, Snake. I have dibs on that." Lucky rubbed a hand across his jaw. "I hate saying it, but Gus is right about some of it. Maggie is getting more difficult to handle by the day. The longer she's home with us, the less of a hold all that gentility she learned in school has on her. She's reverting to the old ways. All the schooling in the world can't overcome the years of living with the likes of us."

"I need another drink." MacKenzie banged his glass on the table. He closed his eyes and hung his head. "Whiskey this time, please."

As Rafe rose to retrieve the bottle, Ben spoke in a placating tone. "It is possible we are worrying overmuch. Chances are Mary Margaret won't have the slightest interest in making the trip. After all, she is devoted to making Hotel Bliss a success. That is where all her energies lie."

"I'm not worried where her energies lie. It's where her body lies that has me shiverin' in my shoes." MacKenzie tossed back the drink Rafe had provided him and signaled for another.

"Now, Snake, don't think so negatively." Lucky twisted his earring three times. "I think Ben is right. Even though the hotel is temporarily closed, Maggie still has a lot of work to keep her busy. I don't believe she'll want to make the trip this time." He looked at Gus. "I'll bet you twenty dollars she wants to stay home."

"Done." Gus nodded.

MacKenzie groaned and clutched his head with both hands. "Now you've done it, Nichols. She's bound to want to go if you made a bet she wouldn't."

Rafe poured the drink, watching him, watching his companions. All four of them appeared shaken by Lucky Nichols's bet. Slowly, Rafe grinned. These petrified old pirates were entertaining as sin. What the hell. A call to adventure. A woman he most definitely wanted to meet. It was the best offer he'd had all day.

He flipped his chair around and straddled it. "So, men, let's talk treasure. Where exactly is it? How much of it comes to me as my fee? And..." He paused, giving Snake MacKenzie a baiting look. "When do I get to meet your granddaughter?"

Copyright © 1997 by Geralyn Dawson Williams