“Hello?” Micah prompted playfully. “Are we going to fill in the duty roster or do you plan to spend what’s left of the evening staring off into space?”
Rafe forced himself to focus on the business at hand and set to work assigning tasks for enlisted men. With practiced precision, he and Micah completed the task in a few minutes.
“I suggest we assign Harlan Billings to guard Karissa,” Micah commented. “After you put him on report for being drunk and disorderly, he’s been digging latrines for three days. Personally, I would rather not have him back on patrol with us. I’m tired of listening to him whine and complain about scouting the area, day after day, looking for squatters. If nothing else, it will keep Harlan out of our hair.”
Rafe was inclined to agree. Corporal Harlan Billings—who had been demoted from the rank of sergeant already—was a pain in the backside. Yet, Rafe wasn’t sure he wanted that particular soldier trailing after Karissa. Then again, he mused, she seemed to possess the ability to deal with men. If anyone could keep Harlan in line he would lay odds on the infuriating woman who had taken apart his room for pure spite.
With a nod, Rafe wrote Harlan’s name on the roster. “We’ll give him a trial run tomorrow,” he agreed. “If that doesn’t work out I think Harlan could best serve his country by mucking out the stables for a few days.”
Micah snickered. “Very appropriate. Why not send an ass to clean up after the mules and horses?” He shifted in his chair and sighed tiredly. “I for one will be glad when this Land Run is over and the territorial boundaries aren’t crawling with would-be settlers. The camps in this area are filling up steadily. I’ve counted nearly five hundred wagons circling the encampments. We also received a telegram that reported nearly ten thousand settlers have gathered on the Kansas border, preparing to move south within the next few days. Hopefully, our job will be easier when these settlers can focus their time on tilling the ground and constructing homes on their claims instead of crowding our space and picking fights with each other.”
“After the Run, I suspect we’ll be exchanging one set of headaches for another,” Rafe prophesied. “Free land brings out greed in people. Not to mention the money-hungry shysters who have been selling falsified maps to these hopeful settlers.”
“All the same, I think I prefer maintaining law and order to scouring the countryside for squatters and babysitting all these campsites that have sprung up around us.” Micah sighed wearily as he stood up. “I’m calling it a night. You can have my cot and I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”
“No,” Rafe insisted. “I’ll take the pallet. Just because a wildcat is tearing up my quarters doesn’t mean you should have to suffer for it. I’m the one who decided to stuff her in there for safekeeping.”
When Micah strode off, Rafe slouched in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. Even though he planned to post a guard to shadow Karissa every hour of the day he still didn’t trust her not to escape. When he returned from scouting the area for squatters he would keep an eye on her himself. He predicted she would try to make her escape at night.
And he would be there to pounce.
It was going to be a fair Run, for one and all, to claim free land, Rafe thought determinedly. Just because he was suffering feelings of partiality toward Karissa didn’t mean he was going to let it stand in the way of duty. He was not going to show her special treatment by letting her sneak back into the territory prematurely.
On that determined thought Rafe checked the door to see that Karissa was locked up tightly for the night, then he sprawled out on the floor of Micah’s quarters to grab a few hours of sleep.
Chapter Three
T he next morning Rafe dragged himself off the floor, worked the kinks from his back and heaved a tired sigh. He was definitely going to need more padding for his pallet, he decided.
Glancing sideways, he noticed Micah was up and gone. The sound of a trumpet splitting the still morning air prompted Rafe to grab his clothes and dress hurriedly. Never once had he been late for assembly, which commenced a little after five in the morning. He was always there to take roll call then lead the way to the stables to groom and care for the horses.
Lickety-split, Rafe burst out the door, fastening the buttons of his shirt as he went. He reached the parade grounds just as his men gathered in front of him.
She had done this to him, Rafe mused sourly. Thoughts of that spitfire had kept him tossing and turning instead of enjoying much-needed rest. He could only hope he didn’t look as frazzled as he felt.
Assuming his customary position beside Micah, Rafe drew himself up to dignified stature to begin roll call. A few minutes later he strode toward the stable, with Micah hot on his heels.
“You look like hell,” Micah murmured. “I doubt the rest of the men noticed since they’re still half-asleep. Bad dreams, my friend?”
“Worst nightmare,” Rafe grumbled.
And that’s exactly what Karissa Baxter was, Rafe mused as he tended then saddled Sergeant. She had tempted him, tormented him and deprived him of sleep. If he didn’t believe it was necessary to adhere to the rules of the Run, he’d set her free just to get her out from underfoot. But she had broken the rules and she would suffer the consequences.
At six o’clock, Rafe ambled into the mess hall and plunked down in his chair at the officers’ table. He nearly choked on his coffee when Micah escorted Karissa into the room. All conversation dried up when the men noticed the fetching new arrival.
As for Rafe, he wasn’t sure what he expected the first time he saw Karissa dressed as a respectable lady, but the sight of her would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t been sitting down.
All those shapely feminine curves that had been downplayed by her baggy men’s clothes were advantageously displayed in the pale green gown. He, like every other man in the mess hall, became distracted by the scooped-neck dress that showcased the full swells of her breasts.
She had twisted that thick mass of wild red hair atop her head, calling attention to the swanlike column of her neck. The trim-fitting gown accentuated her tiny waist and the seductive flare of her hips. In short, she was breathtakingly attractive, even with that smattering of freckles on her upturned nose.
To make matters worse, Karissa flashed a smile around the room and a collective sigh of masculine appreciation sent a draft of air rushing past Rafe.
Damn, beauty, brains and irrepressible spirit all rolled into one. Much too pretty a package to be such an aggravating misfit, he found himself thinking. He had never considered a woman dangerous before, but that was the first word that sprang to mind when he thought of Karissa. Men naturally assumed that such a dainty-looking, petite female who barely stood five feet two inches and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds wouldn’t be a force to reckon with.
Rafe knew better.
“Good morning, General,” Karissa greeted him, all smiles and good humor.
While she gracefully seated herself between Micah and Rafe, he noticed that speculative glances were bouncing across the mess hall. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what his men were thinking, as it pertained to his connection to Karissa.
When Rafe flung Micah a why-in-the-hell-did-you-bring-her-to-breakfast
