Wanted (28 page)

Almost. Her head was tilted with delight, not defiance, her mouth smiled beguilingly as she charmed the child into laughter. He wanted her to laugh with him. Christ, he didn't even know when he had last laughed. Or when he had sung. He knew he had never skipped a stone or had a pet. Animals, according to Callum, were to be used. They were beasts of burden, or potential food. A pig as a pet was preposterous.

But then, he had watched the affection between the child and the animal, and he'd be damned before he would say it should be a pork chop.

Christ, what in the hell was happening to him?

He didn't know. He just knew he was beginning to see things in a different way, was beginning to feel emotions he thought he'd blocked off years ago, when he was a child and there was no outlet for them. There had never been anyone to hug or share secrets with. There had been chores, expectations.
Be like your father. He was the best Ranger there was. If he hadn't quit, he would probably still be alive. Marriage weakened him
.

He tried to banish the voices. Most of them gone now, stilled by the war or fights with Mexican bandits, Indians, or yanqui renegades. His hand went to his pocket, where he'd placed the badge. It was who and what he was, dammit, and he couldn't change that. Not now.

He heard another giggle, and his attention went back to Lori and Maggie. Lori's trousers were plastered against her legs, outlining their fine shape, and she was carrying her boots, her bare toes digging happily into the pine straw. That fine golden hair was loosely braided, and several tendrils had escaped and fallen down her back. One of her hands brushed it aside carelessly, totally oblivious to appearances.

She was lovely that way. Like a laughing wood sprite who could steal the heart of the most hardened of woodsmen. She had, in the past few days, stolen his. He hadn't been able to admit it until this moment, but as he watched her now, he knew something inside him had changed, was changing. He was recognizing a hunger inside, a longing to touch and be touched with something other than lust or anger.

He wanted to bask in her laughter. He wanted that fierce loyalty for his own. And he had not the slightest idea of how to obtain it.

As the woman and child turned his way, he moved in the opposite direction, out of sight. He didn't want to be caught spying like some lovesick schoolboy. Or even like a Ranger checking up on his prisoner. If only this mess had some solution. But it didn't. If he didn't take Nick Braden back, neither Braden nor he—nor anyone around them—would ever be safe. If he did, Lori would never forgive him. And he might well be responsible for an innocent man being hanged.

Neither prospect was acceptable. But damn if he didn't want a touch of that smile, that laughter. He wanted more than that damnable physical attraction between them. He wanted her. All of her, including pieces of her heart. The last thought was astounding to him, but once he recognized it, he understood what had been causing all the upheaval within him these last days, the gradual softening toward Nick.

Or was it Braden himself?

He didn't know; he seemed not to know anything anymore. Every belief he'd ever had was spinning like a top, and he didn't know how to right them again, to stack them in proper order as he'd always done before.

Because there had been nothing else before
. He didn't want to go back to that nothingness. As confusing as this was, he was intrigued, challenged. He'd discovered holes in himself he hadn't realized existed. He felt alive for the first time in his life. A breathing, feeling human being. Not just a hunter.

He had not the slightest idea what to do with someone's heart
. Not that he would get much of a chance to find out.

He remembered the feel of her hand against his cheek two days ago, the look on her face when she'd seen him knee Braden in the crotch. She hadn't seen Braden's bitter attack, nor would she care that Braden had started it. But Morgan wondered now whether he hadn't baited Braden just to rid himself of the frustration fuming inside him. Frustration because of his reluctant attraction to Lori. Frustration because of his growing doubts about Braden's guilt, which had been reinforced by the man's actions this morning. Nick Braden, he knew now with certainty, was no murderer.

If only Braden would return voluntarily to Texas with him, Morgan knew he could help him; he could enlist the assistance of his captain, and a judge he knew, to investigate further. But he doubted whether Braden, or his sister, would ever trust him now. He swore to himself and veered off back toward camp and his horse. Braden needed hot food. Morgan needed to get the hell away from everyone before he made a total fool of himself.

Nick was sleeping when Lori returned. The Ranger was nowhere to be seen. She felt a momentary disappointment, though she didn't understand why. She should be glad to have him out of her way. At least he hadn't chained Nick this time. Nor her. He might as well have, though, she realized immediately. Nick was too weak to go anywhere. And the Ranger's horse and all the weapons were gone.

She went over to Beth Andrews, who was sitting beside Nick. She put her fingers to her mouth, warning Lori to be quiet, and then stood, moving some distance from her patient.

“How is he?” Lori said.

“I think he just needs some rest. He's awfully weak from loss of blood and exhaustion.”

“The Ranger?”

“He left just seconds ago with his rifle.” She hesitated, “Does he always glower like that?”

Lori smiled dryly at the apt observation. “Unfortunately.”

“My husband would say he looks like a bear shinning up a thorn tree.”

“I think I would have liked your husband,” Lori said. “I certainly like your daughter.”

Beth Andrews's face softened. “I heard her laugh. Thank you. She hasn't done much of that lately.”

“I haven't either,” Lori said. “I needed it, too.”

The other woman studied her for a moment. “I wish I could help.”

“You already have,” Lori said. “It's also been a long time since I've seen Nick smile.”

Beth's eyes clouded. “He's really innocent? Then why …?”

“Why is the Ranger taking him in?” Lori completed the question, seeing the hesitation in the woman's eyes, the reluctance to offend. “Because,” she said bitterly, “they look alike. The Ranger doesn't want his picture on wanted posters. It's … inconvenient”

Beth was horrified. “But if …”

Lori's voice broke slightly as she answered. “He doesn't care. He just doesn't care.…”

The other woman cocked her head. “I don't think … that's really true. He was concerned about …”

Lori shook her head. “He's concerned about Nick dying before he gets him back. He told me he doesn't want to take a dead man back.” Her voice was bitter. She couldn't forget that unfair fight yesterday, the way Morgan had driven them relentlessly today.

She saw the disbelief in the woman's eyes, but just then Nick turned restlessly, and Beth returned to his side. Lori watched, to make sure Nick hadn't worsened, but the woman gave her a reassuring look and settled quietly next to him.

Lori changed clothes, to the only clean, dry ones she had: the damnable dress. Then she sat down next to Maggie and Caroline and started a story about a little girl with a medicine show, and some of the adventures she'd had.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The sun was setting, only part of it visible, the other part tucked among the mountains, when Morgan returned. He had two rabbits with him. Not wanting to risk gunfire, he had set snares, then gone backtracking, making sure they weren't being followed. God knew they were leaving enough tracks with six horses and the damn pig. On his way back two of the four snares yielded a catch, and he had quickly cleaned them.

There would be broth tonight for Braden. Perhaps some stew for the rest of them.

He paused at the clearing. Beth Andrews was huddled next to Braden. Lori's hands were moving gracefully as she sat in front of the fire with Maggie, who was listening intently to her. Lori was wearing a dress. His dress. It was the first time she'd worn one since Laramie, and he had forgotten how pretty she looked in one. The porter had done well. The dress fit perfectly, molding her fine breasts and slender waist. In the first dusk, framed by the fire, she looked totally charming. His body reacted, from the fire in his lower region to the softening of a heart that was now involved.

Lori looked up, sensing his approach. She gave him a tentative smile, then seemed to catch herself, and her lips turned down in a small frown. Her gaze went to the rabbits.

“For your brother,” he said roughly.

The brightness returned to her face, and a lump formed in his throat. It took so little to bring back that smile. She whispered something to the child, then stood up and went over to him, reaching out to take the rabbits. Her eyes met his briefly. “Thank you,” she said in a slightly husky voice, then turned abruptly away. He watched as Beth joined her and together they put the meat in a pot with water and set it over the fire.

“How is Braden?” he asked Beth.

“Sleeping,” she said in that soft voice of hers. “I don't think there's an infection. He's just lost a lot of blood.” There was censure in her voice, and guilt gnawed at Morgan again.

He just nodded and turned toward Lori. Her golden eyes were watching him intently. He returned the look steadily. He had decided during the afternoon that he would talk to her, find out more about Nick, try to discover what, if anything, he could do to help the man. Try now to get her to trust him.

He might as well try to push the sun around.

“Help me water the horses,” he said suddenly, his voice harsher than he intended.

“Is that an order or a request?” she said, obviously bristling that he had kept them going today when Braden was so ill. But Braden had hidden his pain well, until he'd nearly fallen from his horse. Morgan hadn't expected that, had thought the wound wasn't that severe, that Braden would tell him if he needed to stop. His prisoner hadn't been reluctant to slow them before.

“Please,” he said, startling her, startling himself. Her gaze met his, and she felt she was plummeting into uncharted depths. His eyes weren't shadowed now, but neither could she identify the emotions in them. She only knew that despite everything between them, she was more drawn to him than she'd ever been drawn to another man, that she wanted to move into those arms, to feel his lips again. The want radiated between them, a live thing that twisted and curled, connecting them in intimately physical ways even though their bodies didn't touch. She shivered with the unwanted desire that flooded her. She saw his hand clench with the same reflexive movement, a defense against something he couldn't control.

She finally nodded, feeling a little like a puppet, moving as if someone else were pulling the strings. She watched as he took the reins of the three stallions, his and Nick's bay and Beth Andrews's horse, and she took Clementine and the two pack horses. She noticed that he had unstrapped the bedrolls, though he had not unsaddled the horses. His rifle still sat in its scabbard. He was still being careful.

He would always be careful, she warned herself.

She'd noticed he hadn't replaced the handcuffs on Nick, nor had he used the leg irons. That told her he thought Nick was too sick to run. So sick that the Ranger didn't take his usual precautions. Still, he was keeping his eye on the weapons. He stopped at the stream, well out of sight and hearing of the others. He didn't speak as he allowed the horses to drink, and she did the same as dusk fell gently around them, the brilliant reds of the sky fading away until the sky was dark blue and the first star twinkled down at them.

Lori wondered if she had just imagined the undercurrent in the Ranger's voice, if he had really just wanted help with the horses. Then why the “please”? Why not just the usual order? But he stood there patiently, letting the horses drink their fill; then he took them up the creek bank and tied them to trees. He returned and took the reins and ropes to the two pack horses and tied them just as deliberately as he had the others.

He turned back to her, his darkly stubbled face rough in the dim light, his eyes impossible to read now as he studied her. Then he held out a gloved hand. She surprised herself by taking it.

He led her to where the bank of the stream rose, making a natural seat, and he helped her down with a gracefulness she hadn't expected of him. Then he sat next to her, directing his eyes away from her, toward the stream, where he appeared to study some unknown object.

“Tell me what happened in Harmony, Texas,” he said.

Lori didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't that. She also knew it wasn't an idle question. He never indulged in idle conversation. She looked at him, searching for the reason behind the sudden interest in Harmony.

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

He didn't answer, but he turned and looked at her. His eyes were troubled, the lines around them even deeper than before. “I want to know,” he said simply.

Her anger, always bubbling just beneath the surface, and made stronger by her raw attraction to him, cracked open. “Why?” she asked again. “You haven't cared before.” She heard her own voice break, and she hated it. She hated showing him that she gave a fig about what he thought. She hated that she cared.

“I want to know, Lori.” The uncertainty was gone now. The demanding Ranger was back in place. An order, plain and simple.

“All right,” she said. “I saw it all. Will you believe me?”

He studied her, evidently debating the question in his mind, and she started to get up. His hand stopped her, pulled her back down. “Just tell me,” he demanded.

Lori felt her chin quiver. She had wanted this. She had wanted him to listen. “We have a younger brother, Andy. He made the mistake of trying to court Lew Wardlaw's daughter.”