The problem was that they still had to purchase two horses and saddles for their trip into the goldfields.
“That leaves us only one hundred and seventy dollars. Will that be enough for the horses?” Helen asked.
Rafe turned to the storekeeper, who nodded. “Should be able to get yerself two good animals and saddles fer ’bout a hundred dollars or so.” He directed them over to the horse market at the bottom of K Street.
They made arrangements to leave their supplies at the store while they went horse shopping. Just before they exited, Rafe said, “Don’t say I never give you anything.”
She stared at the small tablet and pencil he shoved into her hands. “What’s this?”
“A present.” He chuckled. “Sort of a substitute clipboard.”
She tried to cuff him on the shoulder but he ducked out of the way, laughing.
“Oh, I forgot something. Wait right here.” He ducked back into the store and sought out Mr. Huntington, who was dumping miniature cucumbers into a large barrel of brine. At first, the merchant’s eyebrows rose in question.
Rafe was talking earnestly, gesticulating with his hands. Once, he pointed at his groin. Finally, the storekeeper shook his head vigorously and Rafe shrugged with resignation.
When Rafe opened the door to return to her side, she heard Mr. Huntington hooting with laughter as he shared the joke with a group of miners milling about the store. Only one word stood out in his conversation. Condoms.
“You didn’t?” she accused Rafe as heat suffused her face and neck. “Oh, don’t tell me you tried to buy condoms in a nineteenth-century store.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Did you?”
“Hey, it was worth a shot.”
“I told you we aren’t going to make love.”
He flashed her a look that said, loud and clear, “Wanna bet?”
“Ooooh, you are the most insufferable, crude, womanizing — ”
“Who says I’m a womanizer?” he asked with affront.
“I can read you like a book.”
“Really? Hmmm. I don’t suppose you like to read in bed?”
“Aaargh!”
“Actually, I’m a serial monogamy kind of guy,” he continued blithely. “By the way, how many lovers have you had?”
Her chin dropped at his unexpected question. He was always disarming her like that. “Hundreds,” she lied.
“Good,” he said. “I won’t have to teach you any old tricks. Just the new ones.”
“Oh, oh, oh…”
“You say that a lot, Helen. Is it a speech impediment?”
“Ooooh, you make me so mad. I feel like I’m hanging from a cliff by my fingernails here, and I’m not getting a whole lot of help from you.”
“Try Jell-O.”
At first, she didn’t understand. When she realized he was suggesting that she strengthen her fingernails, she seethed. “Don’t talk to me, you slob. For the rest of this trip to hell, I don’t want to hear another word from you. I’ll go to the goldfields with you; I have no choice. But I refuse to talk to you ever again.”
“Well, now, this should be interesting. Actually, I always was better at body language, babe.” He smiled sweetly.
She pressed her lips tightly together. Then she noticed the large horse trough on the edge of the street. It was filled with muddy water. Dead bugs and scum floated on top.
“On second thought, I’ve changed my mind. I will talk to you.”
“You will?”
“Yep, ’cause I’ve got a message for you, babe.” With one quick karate move, she swung out her right leg, hitting him behind the knees. His legs began to buckle.
“What the hell — ”
Helen used his momentary surprise to shove him with a side hip thrust and an elbow against the side of the shoulder. Losing his balance, Rafe landed smack dab in the middle of the trough.
When he came up sputtering, she smiled at him. “How’s that for body language, lover boy?”
Chapter Twelve
“Put me down,” she shrieked.
“What, you don’t like my body language?” Rafe inquired as he adjusted her squirming body over his shoulder and strode angrily toward the horse market. “How about this?” He deliberately settled a wide palm over her behind and gave it a few good rubs and a whack before holding it there.