One Texas Night (31 page)

“Fair enough. We want you to know, we don’t hold nothing against your little wife. Thanks for giving us a shot.” The man turned to move away.

“You’re welcome, Phil.” Michael finally thought of the second man’s name.

He rode out knowing Cozette would be safe with his uncles watching over her. He needed to make sure the ranch hands were with him and the only way was to spend the day in the saddle. When he reached the cattle he was glad to see two dozen hands already hard at work.

Michael took the time to talk to each man. He mostly asked questions, unafraid to let them see how little he knew. By the end of the day he knew every man and that they were his men.

When he rode home he was tired but satisfied. Part of him couldn’t believe that Cozette’s uncle would think of killing her, but he might not feel the same about Michael.

He wanted time to look over the accounts one last time. They’d agreed they’d confront Raymond tomorrow. It seemed cruel to kick him off the land the day after they buried his brother.

Michael had told his uncles to guard his wife and that at least one of them should always keep Raymond in sight. He smiled as he walked into the office guessing that Cozette’s uncle probably had had a horrible day with one of them tailing him.

An hour later, he looked up from the books to find rain splattering softly against the huge windows of what he thought of as his study.

“My study?” Michael whispered, knowing that this wasn’t and would never be his study, or his ranch. He’d been playing a game of make-believe.

The woman upstairs would never be his wife. It was all pretend. Somehow he’d gotten caught up in her fantasies. The pretty little liar had taken down the outlaw without one shot. When he left this place he knew his heart would be staying behind.

Thunder rattled the night and lightning flashed. Michael closed the books, no longer able to stay away from Cozette.

He was at a run when he reached the stairs and almost collided with the housekeeper.

“Sorry,” he managed, trying to look respectable and not like the wild kid he was.

She smiled. “The missus said you’d be home late. She asked that I bring supper up to her room tonight.”

He nodded as if he wasn’t surprised. “What about her uncle?” Michael didn’t want to sleep without knowing where Raymond was.

“He left a few hours ago.”

“For good?” Michael hoped.

“No.” The housekeeper frowned. “For a ride, I think. He said he wouldn’t be back for dinner this evening and I heard him say he’d shoot anyone who tried to follow him.”

“My uncles?” Michael asked, worried that one of them might have tried.

“They’re all three in the hallway. Said they wouldn’t leave your dear one until you got home.” The housekeeper smiled. “I had a meal sent up to them and the cook is baking cookies for them now. Dear little men, all three.”

Michael wasn’t sure she didn’t have them mixed up with some other three short fat men. He’d never heard anyone pay them a compliment.

When he reached the top of the stairs, there they were, all on guard. “You watch over my wife today?” he said sharply bringing them all to attention, or as much to attention as they could get.

“We did,” Abe said. “Had to quit watching Raymond, though. None of us can ride well enough to trail him, so we decided to all guard her.”

“Plus, here w-we don’t miss meals. That’s something to c-consider.” Joseph pulled two forks from his pocket and placed them on the hallway table. “I w-wasn’t going to take them, Mickey, I w-was just keeping them in case more food w-wandered by. Food comes along here as regular as a train. I ain’t never s-seen the like of it.”

Michael said good night to them and reminded them that hot cookies were waiting. He realized that for the first time in his life he was proud of them and, more important, they were proud of themselves.

He opened the door to his room and walked across to the bathing room separating him from Cozette.

The door was closed, but not locked. When he pushed it slowly open, he swore his heart stopped. She must have just stepped from the tub, her body still dripping as she reached for the towel.

He saw her completely. Her beautiful face, her long damp hair, her rounded breasts and pleasing bottom. She took his breath away along with the power to speak or think.

When she turned and smiled at him, he couldn’t move.

“Good evening, Michael,” she said shyly. She lifted the towel and put it around her back, leaving her front still open to his view. “I thought we’d have a quiet dinner and talk.”

She began to wrap the towel around her, but his hand shot out to stop her. “Later,” he said, staring into her eyes. “First, I have to hold you.”

She tugged away from him and crossed the towel over her. “No, first you have to take a bath. Like all ranchers, you smell like a horse.”

He would have argued, but she began unbuttoning his shirt. He just stood as if stone while she removed his shirt and gun belt. When she began unbuttoning his trousers, he stopped her. “I’ll bathe,” he said. “Alone.”

The pouty lip he’d spent hours thinking about came out, but she turned and headed to the door.

He had stripped and slid into the tub and was already thinking of what he wanted to do with her when the door to her room opened. She was still wrapped in her towel, but she was dragging a stool behind her.

“What do you think you are doing?” he asked with a smile.

“Watching,” she answered.

“I should have locked the door.” He blew out all but one of the candles beside the bath.

“There’s no lock on your side, only on mine.” She sat down as if waiting for the play to start.

He gave up. He scrubbed off a layer of dirt as fast as he could and then asked for a towel.

She pointed to one three feet away and didn’t make a sound when he stood and grabbed it. Looking at her was one thing, but having her stare at him was quite another. He planned to tell her so over breakfast.

“What’s all this about?” he asked as he dried.

“I’ve decided to change the rules a little. You seem to be having so much fun touching me, I thought I’d touch you tonight, if you don’t mind.”

He studied her trying to figure out what she was up to. They both knew that tonight might be their last night together. Tomorrow they’d confront Raymond and run him off the ranch. Michael knew several men working for her who would be great bodyguards just in case Raymond decided to come back.

When he left her, he’d leave her well protected.

It occurred to him that she must want tonight to be a memory they’d both take with them.

He crossed the room and stood above her, his towel now draped low around his hips.

She looked up at him without fear. She might never learn to love him, but she’d learned to trust him.

His fingers slid along her slender throat as they had when they’d first met. For a moment, he tightened his grip as he had in the chapel, holding her firmly, but not hurting her. Then he lowered his mouth and kissed her.

It wasn’t a hungry kiss, but a slow, loving kiss that warmed them both. His fingers moved down her throat and over her shoulders, then shoved her towel away. “I love the way your skin feels,” he whispered into her mouth as he pulled her up and kissed her again. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

Every moment, every move, he expected her to tell him to stop, but she didn’t and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight he was a part of her fantasy.

She didn’t say a word. She opened her mouth, welcoming him as his hands branded across her body. Timidly she brushed her finger over his chest and along his arms. Her touch was so tender it was almost painful. He knew he was lean with a few too many scars across his body, but she didn’t seem to notice as she touched him.

He turned her toward a long mirror, pressing his body against hers as he watched his hands move over her. She leaned her head back and kissed his throat as her hair tickled across his chest.

He had to try one more time. “Love me, tonight,” he whispered in her hair. “Be mine for one night.”

She turned in his arms and kissed him as she pressed against him silently, giving him the answer he’d waited for.

When he rubbed his chin against her cheek, he felt her tears and pulled away enough to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t think it could be like this. I didn’t expect it . . .”

He understood and pulled her close. Both their towels were forgotten as they moved to her bed and he pulled the covers back. She lay down and waited, looking unsure.

“I promise I won’t hurt you, but if you’ll let me, I want to make love to you.”

She didn’t answer. This time he didn’t pull away. He saw all he needed to see in her warm eyes as her soft hands trailed along his body and she tugged him closer.

He kissed his way down her until he came to the slight rise at her middle. “I love you,” he whispered, “and I’d love this baby growing inside you if you’d let me. I want it to be my baby. After tonight. After we’ve made love. There will be no other past but me and tonight.”

He hadn’t planned the words. He wasn’t sure if he’d said them aloud or not, but when he kissed her where the baby grew, her hands moved into his hair and held him to her.

The storm rattled outside as they made love slow and easy. She was shy and he was uncertain, but passion washed over them smoothing everything into mindless perfection. They floated in the warmth of each other unaware that time existed. For two young lovers there was no past or future, only this moment.

When he held her to him afterward, he kissed away her tears. She hadn’t said a word and he wasn’t experienced enough with women to know whether her tears were tears of joy.

He just held her close and whispered his love for her, wondering if there was any chance she’d believe him . . . wishing he had a lifetime ahead to tell her how he felt. But tonight, this time, this place, would have to be his lifetime. All before, all after, didn’t matter.

When Cozette was sound asleep, Michael slipped from her bed and dressed, already missing her before he left her room. He had a meeting in the chapel tonight, and then he’d be back to wake her.

Tonight, he’d know the truth about Raymond. He’d know how to keep her safe.

He walked from her room and put his boots on in the hallway. They were a perfect fit. Within a few minutes he let himself into the chapel.

Smith and the tall man named Phil were waiting for him. They both looked tired and wore dusters soaked in rain.

“What news do you have?” he asked, in a hurry to be done with the meeting and get back to Cozette.

“A farmer north of here found Fiddler’s body two days ago. The farmer didn’t recognize him, being most of his face was shot off, so he took the body into town.”

Phil stopped talking and his partner continued, “Sheriff said he knew at once who it was. Said he’d noticed the ink stains on Fiddler’s hands once. The sheriff also noticed once that the bookkeeper had the longest fingers—piano hands he called them—with ink spotting heavy across his knuckles.”

“Any idea who killed him?” Michael asked.

“No. He’d been dead for a while. Folks claimed they could smell him an acre away. Sheriff had him buried.”

Michael thanked the men. They talked as they walked back to the house. Both were convinced Raymond had something to do with the killing, but with a body already in the ground and any clues washed away by the rain, they weren’t likely to prove it.

Michael noticed the study’s lamps were lit, burning low, when he walked into the house. He remembered blowing them both out just before he hid the ranch records under the bed. Caution set his nerves on edge as he walked into the study.

Cozette sat very still in the chair behind the desk. Her hair was down and wild around the heavy robe she wore. When she looked up at him, he saw terror in her eyes.

He took two steps toward her before he realized someone was standing behind the door waiting. He’d stepped into a trap.

“Come on in,” Raymond said from behind him. “Your bride and I have been waiting for you to come back.”

Michael faced the gun as he backed toward the windows and away from his wife.

“I know you two thought you could get away with this trick you played on my brother, but I’ve finally decided to put a stop to it.” He moved to the center of the room so he could keep an eye on both of them. “So, the only question is, which one should I kill first? With this storm no one will even notice the shots.”

“Kill me!” Michael shouted with enough anger to rattle the windows. “Because if you don’t, I swear I’ll kill you if you harm her.”

Raymond must have found his power over them amusing. “Oh, so you’ve fallen in love with the family tramp. Did she tell you she’s already been with a man and she’s barely out of school?”

Cozette let out a yelp and Raymond turned his gun on her.

He smiled. “I’ve even heard the house rumor that you’re with child. What would your father say? He’d shoot you himself rather than let you disgrace this family.”

“It’s my child!” Michael shouted. “And she’s my wife. She’s had no other lover but me.”

Raymond pointed the gun at him. “Then you are a bigger fool than I, for she’s tricked you. I’ve had enough of you both. It’s time to—”

Something short and round barreled into Raymond like a freight train, knocking him off his feet.

The gun fired, clipping Michael in the shoulder as three men jumped on Raymond like hungry dogs on a fat rabbit.

Pain shot through Michael’s body as he watched his wife scream and rush toward him. He could hear his uncles pounding away on Raymond but nothing seemed real. All seemed part of a dream, even Cozette.

Then, all went quiet in his world. All went black and he circled in midnight water until he could see or hear nothing, not even his own heartbeat.

When he awoke, he was spread out on one of the couches along the wall and the doctor was smiling down at him.

“’Bout time you decided to wake up and join us. You’re a lucky man, son. The bullet hit only muscle and I dug it out without much trouble.”

Michael sat up slowly and looked around. “Where’s my wife?”

“She’ll be back in a minute. I made her go get dressed if she was going to insist on sitting with you. She told me she was in a family way and planned to stay close to you.”

“Raymond?” Michael asked.

“He’s on his way to town. Sheriff said he’ll have charges filed in the morning for attempted murder of you and the murder of a man named Fiddler. Seems Fiddler told my nurse one afternoon while she was with the old man and Fiddler was doing the records that if he ever showed up dead they should look in the books for the murderer. Your wife showed us where her uncle had been stealing for months. We may never know if Fiddler was part of the theft and just got scared or if he found out the truth and confronted Raymond. Don’t guess it matters much, he’s dead either way.”

Michael’s head pounded. It was over. Cozette was safe. She’d never be bothered again. He leaned back and rested until he heard her come in with his three uncles right behind her.

“How is he?” she asked the doctor as if Michael weren’t staring right at her.

“He’s fine. A good night’s rest and he can be back in the saddle tomorrow.” The doctor began packing up his bag.

“I’ll be heading out tomorrow,” Michael said. He’d keep his promise to her.

To his surprise anger flashed in her eyes and she stood. “You’re not walking out on me and the baby.”

All three uncles said, “
Baby?
” at the same time.

She nodded toward them. “That’s right. The doctor just confirmed I’m pregnant. Right?”

“Right,” the doctor mumbled, obviously trying to stay out of the argument.

Cozette stared down at Michael. “Am I or am I not your wife?”

“I’m not deaf, dear. Of course you’re my wife.”

“And is this your baby growing inside me?”

He stared at her remembering his wish. Remembering how he told her there was no time, no one before him. “It’s my baby.”

“Then, Michael, you are not going anywhere.” She whirled to the doctor. “You might not want to leave yet. I may have to shoot him in the leg to convince him to stay.”

To his surprise the uncles looked like they were on her side. They all stood behind her, their knuckles white and ready to beat him to a pulp.

“It ain’t right,” Uncle Moses said. “Getting her pregnant and talking of leaving. It ain’t right, Mickey.”

Cozette pulled a pistol from behind one of the pillows. “I may be a widow, but I don’t plan on being left.”

She pointed the gun at him and all three uncles folded their arms and waited.

“Don’t shoot.” He smiled. “I’ll stay, dear.”

“How long?” she asked without lowering the gun.

“Forever if you’ll say you love me.”

She grinned. “Then I won’t shoot you, because I do love you.”

All three uncles nodded as if they understood what was going on. The doctor shook his head, totally lost.

Michael raised an eyebrow, wondering if he’d ever be able to tell if she was telling the truth. He guessed he’d just have to stay about forty or fifty years and find out.

He might not be much of an outlaw but somehow he’d managed to steal the lady’s love.

Holding his side, he stood. “I think it’s time we said good night, dear.”

She smiled and moved beneath his arm as if they were now an old, settled married couple.

He pulled her close, knowing that in the future he’d be whatever she wanted him to be, but he’d be beside her.

Once the couple was halfway up the stairs, Uncle Abe shouted, “Mickey! How long you figure we’re staying?”

He glanced down at the three men who’d done their best to raise him.

“Forever,” he said.

“Forever,” she whispered beside him.

THE RANGER
’
S ANGEL

Chapter 1

Texas
April 1870

Annalane Barkley pulled her knees to her chin and lowered her head. Her ruined navy blue hat flopped forward like a gaudy curtain hiding her from the world.

She would give anything if she could go backward in time three weeks to the moment she decided to make the trip to Texas. She should have ripped her brother’s letter into tiny pieces and stomped on it. Since the day Devin realized he’d never be as tall as his sister, he’d hated her. Why had Annalane thought two years apart would have changed anything? If he wanted her with him at Camp Supply it was for his benefit, not hers.

She vowed that if she lived through tonight, she’d demand he send her back to Washington, D.C. If she had to, she’d live with their great aunt Fretta, who dripped snuff from the left side of her mouth and had eleven cats, but she’d never come west again.

However, from the looks of things her brother, Devin, wouldn’t have to pay for the ticket back. Her chances of surviving the night were growing slimmer by the hour.

Rain pounded on the roof of the one-room hut these Texans called a stagecoach station. Normally she loved the rain, but not this hard, fast downpour that thundered in rage. It shook the dust from the rafters, causing tiny bits of dirt to filter down through the damp air and turn into almost invisible mud balls on her skin.

Annalane raised her head enough to watch the four men trapped inside like her.

The driver of the coach was a little old man with nervous movements and a half-empty bottle sitting next to him for comfort. His bloodshot gaze darted around now and then like a rat waiting for a secret tunnel of escape to open up.

The station manager moved around in the corner that served as a kitchen. He was a beefy German who appeared to be multilingual only when he swore, which had been a constant rumble since their stage pulled in at full speed with outlaws in close pursuit. He’d had a meal of mud-colored stew waiting for them, but no one had ordered food.

The third man—a gambler she guessed—had a dull kind of politeness that was born more of habit than purpose. His dreary brown eyes reflected the look of a man who didn’t much care if he lived or died. His collar and cuffs were stained with sweat and dirt, but a polished gold watch chain hung from his vest. She’d never seen him check his watch, not once since he’d joined the stage at dawn.

What kind of man wears a watch and never looks at it? She smiled to herself, figuring out the riddle. The kind of man who owns only the chain.

Annalane moved slightly so she could study the fourth guest, a Texas Ranger, who’d got them to this shelter alive when the shooting started. He was long and lean, with a thin scar along his left cheek that had ended what once must have been a handsome face. His clothes were worn but well made, and his boots, though mud-covered, looked hand-tooled. He had twin Colts strapped to powerful legs. The sun had baked his face until she couldn’t tell if he was in his twenties or forties. Not that it mattered; she’d seen more talkative hitching posts.

Annalane sensed things in the way men moved that most people didn’t notice. All those in the room knew of hard times, but this one, this Ranger, was battle-worn. From the way he folded his muddy gloves into his belt, to the way he watched the window for trouble, hinted to her about his past. He’d fought, and killed, and survived many times.

Now, the Ranger was on guard. The others, including her, were just observers, or maybe future victims. The driver’s hands weren’t steady enough to fire a weapon. The station manager’s apron was still wrapped around his waist, proving he wanted no part of any fight. Neither man could move fast enough to be of any help if trouble barreled through the door. The gambler didn’t look like he cared enough even to defend his own life. Only the Ranger seemed ready.

Annalane cut her eyes back to the gambler. A coward, she thought, as she watched him flip cards onto the table. He’d run, or bargain his way through life, but never fight.

She looked back at the Ranger, who’d introduced himself as Wynn McCord when he’d climbed into the coach in Dodge. Like her, he carried a paper allowing him into the Indian Territory. Her letter said “visiting relative at Camp Supply.” She had no idea what his said, but she guessed he hadn’t come for a visit.

To her surprise, he glanced up and stared at her from across the room, with stormy blue eyes so piercing she had the feeling she’d been touched. His unnerving stare seemed to tell him all he needed to know in seconds. He shifted his attention back to the night beyond the window.

She stood, straightened the pleats of her traveling dress, and walked toward the Ranger.

As she stepped into the square of watery moonlight glowing on the dirt floor, the Ranger’s arm shot out toward her. His fingers dug into her waist. He tugged her almost violently toward him and away from the light.

Before she could make a sound, her back hit the solid wall that framed the left side of the window and the Ranger’s body held her in place.

“Thinking about suicide, lady?”

Annalane fought for breath.

“You stand in the light for long, a bullet’s bound to find you.” His voice was so low she doubted the others heard him.