Moon Racer (14 page)

"Enough," Jonah said, his voice filled with fury.
"That woman you are referring to is very definitely
a lady. You insulted Quince Hunter's sister, and
you insulted the Sixth Cavalry. Do you have
anything to say for yourself?"

MacDougall's expression was murderous. "Stand
at attention when the major speaks to you, soldier,
and answer his question."

"Yes, sir." Davies snapped to attention, his body
stiff, his eyes darting from one man to the other. "I
didn't mean no harm. I just haven't been with a
woman in a long time, and-"

Jonah turned to MacDougall. "Get him out of my
sight. I want him gone by the time I get back to the
fort. I won't have a man under my command who
insults a lady. Go with him and arrange his transfer
to Fort Leavenworth. If I could, I would have him
brought before a tribunal for what he's done. But I
don't want Abby Hunter's name brought into it.
Make sure his punishment will remind him of what
he did today."

MacDougall had never seen the major so angry,
and he knew there had to be a good reason for it.
His eyes were hard as his attention fell again on
Davies. "You heard Major Tremain. Pack your kit
and meet me out front in half an hour. From here on
out, soldier, you won't know a peaceful day till you
learn never to insult a lady."

Jonah stared hard at his sergeant. "Where is the
ranger I'm supposed to meet, and what is his name?"

"His name's Grant Zachary. He's staying in the
room next to mine, sir. But I believe you'll find him
at the Lone Star at the moment. I've heard of him.
He's got a good reputation."

"See to your prisoner, and come straight back
here when he has been transferred." Jonah moved
slowly out of the room, his anger still smoldering.
He didn't want anyone to touch Abby but him. He
paused on the stairs, thinking he was little better
than Private Davies because he wanted to kiss those
soft lips and touch her soft skin-

"Damn," he ground out. He had to get her out of
his mind.

That seemed to be the hard part.

The bartender at the Lone Star eyed the stranger. He
could usually tell a lawman at first glance-there
was something in their stance, the way they wore
their guns, and the way they watched the people
around them without seeming to watch them. What
Ken O'Malley didn't know was what branch of the
law the stranger served.

He slapped a coin on the bar and smiled in
welcome. "This here silver dollar is me betting I
can guess who you work for."

Grant Zachary was tall and rugged-looking,
rather than handsome. He had sandy hair and clear
gray eyes that shone with an honest, almost boyish
light. "I don't make enough money to throw it away
on another man's bet. But I don't have any
objections if you guess, and if you're right, I'll buy
you a drink-if you aren't, you can buy me one."

"Fair enough." O'Malley stroked his mustache as
he intently studied the man. His gun was slung low,
meaning he was a quick draw. The handles of his
guns were pearl, which meant he valued them and
could afford them. He was lean, so he must spend a
lot of time in the saddle.

"My name's Ken O'Malley-most people just
call me O'Malley-and my guess is that you're
either a U.S.Marshal or a Texas Ranger. My
money's on your being a ranger."

The stranger opened his coat to show his badge.
"Well, O'Malley, it looks like I owe you a drink.
Name's Grant Zachary."

O'Malley's face slid into a grin. "I heard of you
by reputation. It's said that you sometimes work
hand in glove with the army. It's also said that when
you get on the trail of an outlaw, you don't come
back without 'im."

"Now, that there's more fiction than fact. I have
gained a reputation I don't quite deserve."

"Keep your money, ranger. It'll be a pleasure to
buy you a drink, and maybe you can tell me what
brings you to Diablo."

"I'll -take the drink, but I don't have any
information to give you."

"So that's the way it is?"

"Yeah. That's the way it is."

The bartender placed a drink in front of the
ranger before his attention was drawn to the highranking officer who came through the bat-wing
doors, leaving them swinging behind him. Here was
another part of the puzzle, he thought.

Jonah waited until his eyes adjusted to the smokefilled dimness. His gaze swept over the crowd and
stopped on the man at the bar who looked back at
him with a smile.

"Are you Grant Zachary?"

"I am-and you'd be Major Tremain."

"Let's take one of the back tables so we can talk
privately," Jonah said, shaking hands with the
ranger.

O'Malley watched the two men move away from
the bar. Something was in the wind if a ranger was
in town, and still more, a high-ranking cavalry offi cer. If he was taking odds on the reason for their
presence, he'd bet they were joining forces, looking
for the men who'd been robbing the army payrolls.

When they were seated at a table in a secluded
corner, Jonah asked, "Have you anything to tell
me?"

"I did some checking up Uvalde way. Someone
thought they recognized one of the men in the
holdup, but the man had left town by the time I got
there, and I haven't picked up his trail. Yet."

"Have you ever heard of Norman Williamson?"

"Yeah, I have, but nothing good. He used to be a
gunslinger, but I hear he's an Indian agent now.
Seems to me the government isn't so particular
about who they hire these days."

Jonah nodded in agreement. "Some would say he
does the Indians more harm than good. Some say he
has lately come into money that he can't account
for."

"You want me to poke around and see what I can
turn up on him?"

"No. I already have someone watching him."
Jonah looked clearly into the ranger's eyes. "What I
want you to do is find out anything you can about
the local banker: What is his background, where
does he come from, how does he spend his time?"

Grant reared back in his chair. "Edmund
Montgomery."

"You know him?"

"I know he's respected around here, but I heard
that New Orleans doesn't hold him in such high
regard."

Jonah absorbed that bit of information. "I need to
know what places he frequents so I can ask
questions of the right people. So far it seems Mr.
Montgomery just goes from the bank to his house,
never deviating from his daily routine."

"I should think he would go to most of the local
functions."

"Like what?" Jonah asked.

"I hear they are having a shindig next Saturday.
It's the town's birthday or something like that."
Grant lit a cigar and blew the smoke into rings
above his head. "How's your dancing, Major?"

Jonah was awakened the following morning by a
loud commotion outside his window. He groaned,
rolled to his feet, and looked down on a group of
young boys gathered in front of the hotel. Two of
them seemed to be on the verge of fighting, and they
were being urged on by several other youngsters.

The larger boy's victim was a young lad who was
at least forty pounds lighter than he was. The bully
shoved his young opponent and sent him sprawling
on the ground, giving the onlookers a reason to
cheer.

"Come on, coward, fight me," the larger boy
taunted.

Jonah had seen this same kind of baiting among
some of his soldiers-he hadn't liked it then, and he
didn't like it now. He left the room and went down
the stairs.

Abby helped Rob Herbert to his feet and dusted him
off. She then took her handkerchief and wiped the dirt
from his face. "Rob," she said pointedly, "Johnny
Brisco is two years older than you, and he's bigger,
and until you prove to him that you aren't afraid of
him, he will continue to make your life miserable."

The young boy's eyes were shimmering with
tears, and she could feel him tremble. "I...
am," he said, hiccupping, "a-afraid of him."

Abby knew she was not helping Rob's cause by
coming to his aid. Already the aggressor was
sneering at Rob from several yards away and
making rude comments about his needing to be
rescued by a woman.

"Listen to me, Rob." Abby raised his chin and
looked into tear-dampened eyes. "It's not size that
matters-it's how much you want to win.
Remember your Sunday school lesson about David
and Goliath?"

"Uh-huh," he muttered, but again lowered his
head.

"You aren't listening," she said firmly but
quietly. "You can beat him, Rob. But only if you
believe in yourself like I believe in you."

There was hope in the gaze he raised to her, and
he was listening intently. "How?"

"I happen to know you are left-handed, so keep
your right fist up and aim low with the other one.
You can't reach his jaw with any power, so aim for
his stomach. Hit him hard!" She smacked her fist
against her hand. "Put everything you have into the
blow. I promise you if you take him to his knees, he'll never bother you again. It's always the same
with bullies-they only pick on those who fear
them. Don't be afraid, Rob."

He acknowledged what she was telling him with
a slight nod of his head, but there was still doubt
clouding his eyes.

Johnny sauntered up to Rob and tapped him on
the shoulder. "Are you going to fight, freckle-face,
or run home to your ma?"

Rob drew in a determined breath and lunged
forward with his fists flying. He hit Johnny so hard
that it surprised the older boy and made him double
over in pain. He struggled to catch his breath and
dropped to his knees, his eyes on Rob, fearing he
would hit him again.

The younger boy stood with doubled fists, his
feet planted wide apart and a fearsome expression
on his face. "If you get up, I'll hit you again!"

Abby watched young Rob's head come up in
pride when he looked at her, and she nodded her
approval.

Johnny was groaning and holding his stomach, so
Abby offered him some advice: "I wouldn't do
anything to provoke Rob again, if I were you. He's
probably only been holding back so he wouldn't
hurt you. Guess you pushed him too far this time."

The other boys had already taken to their heels,
leaving Johnny to fend for himself.

"You ain't gonna let him hurt me, are you?"
Johnny asked, dragging gulps of air into his lungs.

Abby bent down beside him to make sure he
wasn't badly hurt. She concluded he was merely winded. "I don't know if I could stop him. He's
pretty mad at you."

-Johnny nodded as he glanced at his red-faced
adversary, who looked as if he wanted to tear his
head off. "Would you ask him not to hit me again?"

"Yes. I could do that." Abby stood up. "What do
you say, Ro-if Johnny leaves you alone, will you
leave him alone?"

Abby saw Rob's fists tighten, and he took a step
toward Johnny, who cringed and closed his eyes as
bullies always did when they were challenged.

"I guess so. If you don't talk to me and don't
even look at me, I might leave you alone."

Johnny stood up-slowly and ducked behind
Abby. "I'm going to be leaving now," he said, his
eyes darting to Rob's still-clenched fists. He inched
past the hotel, hurried past the general store, and
then quickly disappeared behind the doctor's office.

Rob came up-to her grinning, his shoulders
straight and confidence in his stance. "You was
right, Miss Abby. I hurt him, didn't I?"

"You did, Rob. But don't take too much pleasure
in the deed, or you could become just as bad as
Johnny."

He looked puzzled for a moment, the freckles on
his face more prominent. "Can't I be just a little
happy?"

Abby laughed and tousled his dark hair. "Perhaps
just a little."

"Miss Abby, will you wait right here? I just want
to run home and get something for you."

"You don't need to give me anything, Rob.
We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes, ma'am-I'm surely your friend." He backed
up. "Don't leave till I get back." With that, he turned
and ran in the direction of his house past First Street.

"Nicely done," came an amused voice behind
Abby.

She turned to find Jonah leaning against a
supporting post, his arms folded across his broad
chest. "Have you been there all this time?"

"Mostly." He levered himself away from the
post. "I have come to the conclusion that if the army
took you along to act as diplomat, we might not
have to fight Victorio."

"You might find this humorous, Major, but I can
assure you I don't. Poor Rob has been hounded and
terrorized for years by Johnny Brisco."

Jonah liked the way her green eyes flamed with
indignation when she was passionate about something. "So you took matters into your own hands."

Abby's attention was caught by Rob, who was
running toward her with the mangiest, scraggliestlooking dog she'd ever seen bouncing in his arms.
"Oh, no," she said with a sinking feeling.

Rob's eyes were shining as he held the dog out to
her. "Clover had three pups a while back. I was able
to give them all away but this one-no one seemed
to want him. I want you to have him, Miss Abby."

She was aware that Jonah was silently laughing,
and it infuriated her. "I'm proud to have this pup,"
she told the young boy. "And I thank you for your
generosity."

"It's my only way to thank you, Miss Abby."

Abby got a whiff of the animal and held it a little
away from her. "You had better run along home,
Rob. Your mother will be expecting you."

"I think you're mighty pretty, Miss Abby." His
eyes were shining with earnestness. "Real pretty."

Abby smiled at him. "Thank you. Now go."

She watched him race up the street before she
turned back to Jonah.

"I think you have a friend for life," Jonah said,
smiling.

She held the animal up and examined him. He
was lop-eared, with one rheumy eye and scraggly
whiskers. It was hard to tell what color he was, but
she would say he was yellow, mottled with brown.
His feet were so big he was sure to trip over them
every time he tried to take a step.