Lawman in Disguise (9 page)

“They don't ring it at the end of service, just at the beginning,” she said, clearly exasperated. “Come on, you've got to get inside.” She nodded toward the barn door, then pointed to the house at her right. “What if Mrs. Donahue sees you?”

There was no argument to be made, of course, so he meekly headed into the barn.

“I've got a roast in the oven,” he heard Daisy say. “One of us will bring some out to you when it's ready. Billy Joe, go change out of your good clothes before you get them dirty.” She swept away before Thorn could say anything—or try to apologize. But perhaps there was no point in apologizing anyway. If he really had been spotted by anyone, then the damage was already done and no apologies he could make would change that.

* * *

It was late evening before Thorn saw her again, when she returned from work and brought him supper.

“Hope you don't mind leftovers from the noon meal,” she said, proffering a plate filled with a roast beef sandwich on freshly baked bread, along with potato salad and black-eyed peas.

“Of course not,” he replied. “It looks wonderful.”
Almost as wonderful as she looked to him after his long afternoon spent spinning tales to Billy Joe.
After what had happened last night, he'd made it a point to concentrate on making sure Billy Joe knew about the grimmer side of outlaw life—such as the time Griggs had gunned down one of his men when he'd caught him sleeping when he should have been standing watch.

“I have an apology to make,” Daisy said, as soon as they had settled themselves, he on his cot, she on a stool Billy Joe had brought out from the tack room. “I completely forgot my manners earlier when we came home from church and found you on the roof.” She nodded upward. “The first words out of my mouth should have been
thank you for repairing my barn roof
, and I failed to do that. I'm sorry, Thorn.” Her lovely, deep-set eyes were full of anguish as she faced him.

“There's no apology needed,” he told her. “You had every right to be upset. I wouldn't want to do anything to expose you to gossip. No one said anything about seeing me, did they, when you went to work?”

“Not so far,” she said. “If rumors come up later, then I'll deal with them. Regardless, I appreciate what you did. It will be nice not to have rain leaking in anymore—not that the chickens ever complained,” she added with a faint smile, as one of her hens wandered into the stall, pecking in the hay in search of food. “I hope you're not in too much pain from your exertion?” she asked.

“I am a mite sore, but nothing to really complain about,” he assured her. “I'm pretty close to being good as new.”

He saw realization of what that meant dawn in her eyes before she spoke the words. “So you'll be leaving before long,” she said. “Going back to...those outlaws.”

“Yes. I'm sure you won't miss the extra work I've caused you—or the worry that someone will find out I'm here. Don't worry, I won't leave without saying goodbye—to you and Billy Joe.”

Did he expect her to say she'd miss him? That she wished he wouldn't go? What a fool he was!

“Billy Joe will miss you,” she said. “He really looks up to you. He copies the way you talk, even the way you walk.”

Thorn's throat tightened. He didn't know what to say to that. A boy ought to have someone better to look up to than a supposed outlaw. “I'll miss him, too,” he finally said. “He's a good boy, you know. He just needs to find his place in the world...”

“I know... I hope I can help him do that,” she said wistfully.

Thorn needed to make her believe she could be enough for the boy if he couldn't be there, too. “You
will
, Daisy. You're a good mother,” he assured her. “You let him know you care about him, that he's important to you. Not like my father...”

He hadn't meant to say those last words, but it was as if they had been ripped from the deepest part of his heart.

“Not like your father? What do you mean, Thorn?” she asked, her expression puzzled, her eyes searching the depths of his.

Perhaps it was time to get it out in the open. No wound could heal if it was left to fester, ignored and untreated. Only by exposing an injury to light and air was it possible to truly understand what was wrong, and try to fix it.

“As I said, my parents wanted a son—especially my father. Someone to take over the ranch when he was gone, you understand. But after bearing five children already—five that survived, that is, since my sisters told me that there were one or two more children before me who were born too small, too sick or too soon—my mother was getting on in years when she started carrying me. And then, from what I've heard, my birth was...difficult.

“In the end, having me cost my mother her health,” he told her. “She was never well afterward and died before I was old enough to remember her. She'd wanted to name me Thornton, after her father, but after she was gone, my father just called me Thorn. He made sure I knew it was because I was a thorn in his side.”

“Ohh, Thorn!” Daisy cried, and she threw her arms around him as she began to cry.

He was so astonished—and moved, because no one that he could recall had ever found him worthy of weeping over—that he could only wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

“There, there...why are you crying? Don't cry, Daisy...” he murmured, as he stroked his hands through her hair.

“But that's so awful! How could your father do that to a little boy...to his own son?” she asked, her voice broken with sorrow as she leaned into Thorn's embrace.

“Reckon he knew it was partly his fault that he'd lost my mother, because he kept pushing to get that son. I don't suppose he realized it would cost him his wife—and once that happened, he didn't find it to be a fair trade. My sisters told me that he used to be different—never a soft man, but at least a little kinder. But after that...some part of his heart died when he lost my mother...and he didn't have anything left to give me. Or maybe he wanted me to grow up tough.”

Thorn stopped there, not wanting to make any more excuses for the man. He'd long since let go of his anger at his father—choosing to forgive, just as the Lord would want. But forgiveness wasn't the same as understanding, and in his heart of hearts, he'd never fully understand how any parent could reject a child. All Thorn could do was accept that that anger was his father's burden to bear, not his.

And after a painful childhood of never feeling good enough, he'd found himself in this place, with this beautiful, giving woman treating him as if he was precious to her. Maybe he didn't deserve her affection any more than he'd deserved his father's disdain...but he was glad to have it all the same.

Chapter Eight

R
aising her head from Thorn's chest, Daisy murmured, “I'm so sorry that happened to you. I saw what having a harsh father did to Billy Joe, how he's tried to prove how tough he is ever since, and I've done everything I can to make up for it.”

“I can see you've done that for the boy,” he told her. “He'll grow up all right, is my belief.”

“But I want your life to be better, too, Thorn,” she stated. “You're a good man and deserve such a good life. Better than you've gotten so far.”

“It's been better already,” he told her, “just for knowing you, Daisy...” He bent, looking as if he intended to kiss her forehead, but she raised her face and instinctively touched her lips to his.

It seemed to take a long time before their mouths parted, and when they did, Daisy felt as if she couldn't get breath to put her question into words. But she had to know the answer.

“I don't understand why you have to go back, Thorn. On the day you first came here, you told me you weren't really an outlaw. If that was the truth, why must you return to them?”

She saw him blink, and then a weary acceptance shed a faint light into his eyes. “Because it's a job I agreed to do, Daisy. I'm a Texas Ranger.”

“But there aren't—” she began.

“—Texas Rangers anymore, since the war. I know. It's the Texas State Police—for now, anyway... But I agreed to infiltrate the outlaws, in order to see them brought down. If I'm successful, there's a big sum of money coming to me as a reward. I plan to get out of the police and use that money to start my ranch. I was looking forward to that, before...before I came here and met you. But now I want that new life almost more than my next breath.” His eyes gazed deeply into hers, and she saw that he was telling the truth.

And it gave her reason to fear—for his safety, as she realized the possible consequences for him, if this plan didn't go well.

“But if you're not successful—if the outlaws find out who you are, why you're with them—you could be killed, Thorn.”

The statement echoed between her heart and his.

“It's the chance I have to take to be able to start a new life,” he told her. “Don't worry about me, Daisy. Just pray.”

She saw that there was no arguing with a choice he had already made, for he was an honorable man, and an honorable man kept his promises. From what he'd said about them, she knew that Texas would be safer once the Griggs gang was eliminated. It was a job that had to be done—but oh, how she wished it could be done by anyone else.

“Come back to us, Thorn...once you get done what you must,” she pleaded. “Come back to us.”

“I was planning to, Daisy. If I'm able, I promise I'll come back. Wait for me.”

“I will,” she said. “
We
will.”

“Now ain't this a pretty scene,” commented an unfamiliar male voice from outside the stall.

Daisy whirled, immediately drawing herself away from Thorn, as he grabbed hold of his Colt and aimed it at the two strangers who stood there, their shadowy faces just visible in the lantern light. She darted a glance at Thorn. He looked furious with himself that he had let his guard down enough that these men had gotten the drop on him.

“Yeah, mighty pretty,” muttered the other man. “Good to see you've been keeping yourself entertained, Dawson. No need for that pistol—we're not here to do any harm. Th' boss just sent us to see how you was convalescin', so to speak. And to see if you was well enough to come ridin' with us again.”

Daisy edged closer to Thorn and shrank against his side, careful to leave his right arm free. But despite all her instincts telling her to cower, she couldn't stay silent and let these men take Thorn away. “Leave him alone!” she cried, fists clenched. Her heart was frozen with fear, but her words came out strongly—much more strongly than she'd expected. Her husband had trained her so thoroughly to respond to danger, and especially to dangerous men, with cringing fear. Was this Thorn's influence? Did her certainty of his protection give her the courage to be strong herself? “He was wounded, almost died! He isn't well enough to come with you yet—he'll have to rejoin you later.”

Even as she said it, she realized they wouldn't believe her, and that Thorn wouldn't confirm her assertion. He was too worried about her safety—just as she was worried about his.

“Go to the house, Daisy,” he muttered. “Lock the door. You two polecats stay right where you are.”

She read the message in Thorn's eyes:
take down the rifle from where it hangs on the wall and hold tight to it.

Thorn nodded toward the barn door. He wanted her to get to the house, to be safe. She didn't want to leave him, not knowing what these men might do, but she had her son to think of.
What if Billy Joe woke and found her missing, and came to the barn looking for her?

“We ain't gonna bother yore lil' nurse,” the uglier of the two outlaws said with a sneer. “Shore is nice you could land in such a soft place when you was wounded, with such a sweet lady and all. And she wants to make life better for you—ain't that nice? We heard the whole thing from the tack room where we was hidin'.”

They must have sneaked inside once it had gotten dark, before she'd come home from the restaurant. Her mind spun with horror at the thought of them crouching in there, hearing the tender words she and Thorn had uttered. Had they heard Thorn confess that he was a Texas Ranger? No, surely not. If they knew that part, they'd either confront him about it right away or pretend they hadn't heard anything at all, so they could lull him into complacency. If they were willing to reveal that they'd heard some of the conversation, then they must not have heard clearly the part about the role he was playing with the outlaws. For that, she could only be grateful to God.

What could she do? Could she pretend to do as Thorn said, but instead run down the street and fetch Sheriff Bishop? Could the lawman return here in time to save Thorn from going with them? Or would there be a gun battle, with the risk of Thorn being killed in the crossfire? How tragic if her attempted rescue of him resulted in his death.

As if he was reading her mind, she saw Thorn give a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Don't try anything. Just go to the house, as I said. Be safe.

It took all Daisy's courage to walk by those two rattlesnakes who stood leering at her, close enough to reach out and touch her as she passed. But it was what Thorn wanted, so she did it.

Once outside, she fairly ran to the house and locked the door behind her. Then she did her best to smother her tears with a dish towel so that Billy Joe wouldn't hear.

* * *

“Griggs got a report you was climbin' around on the barn roof like a monkey, Dawson, so he figured you might be recovered enough,” Zeke said, once the barn door shut behind Daisy.

“I am,” Thorn replied. “I was planning on riding out in the morning to try to find the gang. But since he was kind enough to send an escort, I'll ride back with you tonight—it'll save me having to look for y'all.”

He wondered who had seen him and reported back to the outlaws.
Did Griggs have a spy in Simpson Creek?

Though Thorn tossed off the words as if he didn't have a care in the world, his heart ached that he would not be able to say goodbye to Billy Joe. He'd promised to do so only a few minutes ago as he'd been talking to Daisy, unaware of the threat lurking in the tack room. Would he ever be able to return to the boy and his mother, or would Thorn be one more male who didn't keep his promises to Billy Joe?

The outlaws watched in silence as he fetched Ace's saddle and bridle from the tack room and began to ready his horse. The gelding uttered a sleepy snort of protest at this nocturnal call to duty. All too soon Thorn was mounted and riding northeast out of Simpson Creek, flanked by Zeke Tomlinson and Bob Pritchard, two of Griggs's most ruthless henchmen. Neither would have hesitated to gun him down, he knew, if he'd shown any reluctance to return with them.

They rode about six miles beyond Simpson Creek to the point where the San Saba River joined the mightier Colorado. Here a smoldering campfire with an irregular assortment of seated figures and bedrolls identified Griggs's camp. Thorn had to wonder if they'd been here ever since the bank robbery. Probably not, since the sheriff had made mention of sending out a posse to look for them.

One of the seated figures stood and made his way toward them as Thorn and the other two men dismounted.

“Glad the fellows were able to locate you, Dawson. Good to see you back.”

Despite the fact that he used positive words like
glad
and
good
, not a flicker of emotion showed in Gordon Griggs's gaze. His eyes reminded Thorn of those of a shark he'd seen a drawing of one once in a book—flat, black, cold and ruthless. The eyes of a merciless predator.

“You shoulda seen where he was holed up, boss,” Zeke chortled. “In a barn, but safe and sound and bein' waited on hand and foot by a purdy widow woman an' a kid, three square meals a day, doctorin'...”

Cold fingers of fear danced down Thorn's spine. How did Zeke know all this? Sure, he'd seen Daisy, but how did he know about Billy Joe? Or the doctoring? Again Thorn wondered who had seen him “climbing on the barn roof like a monkey.”

“Ain't that nice...” Griggs muttered, but no warmth reached those suspicious, cold eyes. “How's it happen a doctor tended to you, but not the sheriff? I hear the doc in this town is mighty respectable. Why didn't he turn you in to the law? How come you weren't being cared for inside a jail cell?”

Apprehension did a lively two-step down Thorn's backbone. A wrong answer now and he could end up dead at Griggs's feet. By an effort of will, he kept his gaze away from the pistol always riding at Griggs's hip.

“Respectable ain't the same as incorruptible,” he drawled. “I had some money to bribe the sawbones to keep quiet.”

“And the widow woman? Did you bribe her, too? Otherwise, what was in it for her? Why would she want an outlaw around her kid?”

Thorn forced himself to utter a suggestive chuckle despite the nausea that churned his stomach. “Let's just say the widow and I reached a certain...understanding,” he said, and winked. “Amazing how a few kisses and sweet words will affect a lonely woman.”

Guffaws and hoots from the outlaws scattered around the campfire greeted his announcement, but inwardly, Thorn apologized to the lovely image in his mind.
I'm sorry, Daisy, you know I don't mean it.

Griggs snickered. “Good to know you have such romantic talent, Dawson. Maybe it'll come in handy for the gang some other time.” There was an answering chorus of guffaws and grins around the campfire, but Griggs cut it short with a raised hand. “All right, now that you're back, it's gettin' late and we could all use some shut-eye. Gotta be fresh for tomorrow—we're hittin' the Lampasas bank.”

Griggs seemed to expect some response from him, so Thorn said, “That's great, boss. Happy to get right back in the game.”

Griggs simply nodded in acknowledgment before assigning some of the men to be on watch for the night, as he always did.

While others spread out their bedrolls and pulled off their boots, Thorn unsaddled Ace and made sure he was securely hobbled before finding a place to sleep. His heart had sunk at the news of the upcoming robbery, for there would be no opportunity to tip off the law. Would he ever get enough advance notice of a planned heist that he could set up a trap and bring an end to the Griggs gang's thieving ways? Why hadn't he seen this weakness in the State Police's plan? Was he doomed to attend an endless series of robberies, letting decent people get robbed and sometimes injured, and all the while taking the same risk of getting shot as the real outlaws, because he was indistinguishable from them? Would he be killed before he could ever collect the reward and return to Daisy and her son?

But maybe Thorn wasn't using all the weapons in his arsenal. He hadn't tried praying about it. He'd already asked Daisy to pray for him, and surely she was already storming the gates of Heaven with her prayers on his behalf. As the snores of slumbering men rose around him, he sent up his own silent petition.
Lord, I have no right to ask anything of You, but please protect me and help me succeed in bringing the Griggs gang to justice.

* * *

Daisy smothered a yawn as she turned the chicken parts frying on the restaurant stove, so that they would brown evenly. After watching from her darkened room as Thorn Dawson rode away with the outlaws who'd come to fetch him, she hadn't been able to sleep at all. Instead, she'd lain awake and prayed over and over again—for his safety, and that she would find the right words to tell Billy Joe why his hero had left without saying goodbye.

She'd gone into her son's room when she heard him stirring that morning, for she hadn't wanted him to go out and find the stall empty before she could tell him what had happened. She stressed the fact that the outlaws had not been willing to wait for Thorn to make his farewells—that Thorn had not wanted or planned to leave them so abruptly.

It made her heart ache to see how manfully Billy Joe had struggled to blink back his tears. “He promised to come back to us as soon as he can,” she'd told him, but her son had just shrugged as if it didn't matter.

“Who cares?” he'd said. “We got along without him before—I reckon we'll get along without him now just fine. I'm here to protect you, Ma.”

Remembering it now, in the restaurant kitchen, Daisy felt a tear streaking down her cheek before she realized it was there. She reached up with the edge of her work apron to catch it.

“Best pay attention to what you're doing, Daisy,” Tilly said, reaching past her with a long fork to turn a chicken leg that was getting overdone on one side. “We wouldn't want to burn the mayor's dinner, would we?”