Wanted (44 page)

For the first time Andy's attention went to Caroline, who had finally waddled up to the rest of them. “Awww, Nick, you don't mean that … pig goes with us?”

“Caroline?” Nick said innocently, but a smile lit his eyes. “But of course. She's Maggie's best friend, isn't she, Button?” he said, his voice softening as he leaned over and smoothed back a curl from the child's face. Maggie giggled, and Andy looked from one to the other, astonished.

Nick chuckled. “If my dour companion here tolerated Caroline, I suppose you can, too,” he said. The smile disappeared. “And Andy … thank you.”

A smile of pure pleasure shone across his brother's face. He nodded. “How long should I tell Ma?”

“No more than an hour. We'll just find a nice quiet place for my friend to get some much-needed rest.” His voice was ironic.

Andy cradled his rifle in his arms and disappeared over the rise, returning in minutes mounted on a chestnut horse. He grinned at Beth and Maggie, the charming devil-may-care smile that had won him women's hearts all over Colorado—the same smile that had started all this trouble.

He bowed to them. “My pleasure, ladies.”

Beth looked toward Nick, her face worried. He rode over to her, leaned over, and kissed her lightly. “I'll see you soon.”

Beth hesitated. “Are you … sure about this?”

He gave her a slow, lazy grin and nodded. He wished he
were
sure, but he was committed now. Andy and the family had risked everything to free him. And the Ranger would be all right. For now.

But Nick knew Morgan Davis would come after him again. And again. Unless Nick killed him.

Nick reached down and took the rifles from Daniel, putting one in the scabbard and throwing the second the few feet to Andy. He watched Andy ride off with Beth, Maggie, the pack horses, and Caroline before giving Daniel a hand up to sit behind him. Then Nick turned away from the road, toward the hills and trees.

The irony of the situation did not escape Morgan.
Your father was the best there was until he met …

The Braden family was turning out to be his nemesis.

He had expected nearly everything but this. He still didn't understand how the Braden family appeared in Pueblo—but, then, he had underestimated both Nick and Lori before. The fact that he was thinking of Braden as “Nick” now surprised him. Or maybe it shouldn't. He'd been thinking of him as a brother for a day, during the long ride. He threw that thought away for a moment. It was obvious Nick thought of him in a none too brotherly way.

At least Lori was safe. That was his one consolation. He still hoped he could change Nick's mind. He wanted to do that before he shared his suspicions with him. Nick, though, would be even more difficult to convince than before, now that he had the upper hand.

Except for the telltale birthmark
. Would that strike Nick Braden as much as it did him? Except Braden was so sure of his past, of his family. Morgan understood why. Lori had been willing to do anything to help Nick, and the others were now. He wondered what it would be like to have that kind of family.

He moved his hands, and he understood Nick's frustration. Handcuffs had always been a tool to him, and he had never given much thought to how they might feel to one of his prisoners. They felt damn cold and hard. He was understanding Nick's frustration, his reluctance to return to Texas, more and more. If he was in Nick's position, he doubted he would have any faith in a man who'd had none in him.

They reached the river. The Arkansas, according to Morgan's map.
The map!
Lori must have seen it, guessed at their destination.

Nick stopped his animal, and now it was Morgan's turn to wait. Nick had the guns now; Morgan wore the handcuffs. The only weapon Morgan had was his knowledge that Nick Braden had no heart for violence. Morgan wasn't so sure about the dwarf who rode with him.

He watched as Nick lowered the small man. There was real affection between the two. Morgan saw it in the glances they exchanged. The man was older. Late forties or early fifties, and he had one of the most intriguing faces Morgan had ever seen. It was full of lively curiosity, and his eyes reflected both pain and acceptance. He held a gun as if he knew how to use it, and he studied Morgan with avid interest.

Morgan was getting used to the looks he received when he was near Nick. He slid down from his horse and stood there, as Nick had stood so many times, waiting to see what would come next.

Nick was a hell of a lot cleaner than Morgan was, mainly because Morgan had been too taken aback that morning by Nick's birthmark to bother to shave or bathe. His stubble was several days old, and he still had a mustache. Yet the man called Daniel couldn't seem to stop looking from man to man.

“My God,” he whispered. “Lori said … but I didn't …”

“Crazy, isn't it?” Nick said cheerfully. “But watch him, Daniel. He doesn't give up easily.”

“Takes after you, does he?” Daniel retorted.

Now Morgan knew what it felt like, being talked about as if he weren't present. He shifted his weight to the other foot as if to announce his presence, feeling awkward in the handcuffs. It was goddamn annoying.

Daniel looked at Morgan again, this time directly into his eyes. Morgan knew how alike they were, his eyes and Nick's, and he tolerated the inspection, hoping that something would jar a memory. How long had this man been with the Bradens? Lori had once said all her life. Had he been present at Nick's birth?

Nick was digging into Morgan's saddlebags, and Morgan didn't have to guess twice to know what he was after. He was still stronger than Nick, though the handcuffs were an obstacle. Still, Nick had made a damn good fight with them that night at the cabin.

Morgan looked back at Daniel. “I told him if he would go back, I could help him clear this thing up. Running isn't going to help. He'll be dead inside a year.”

Daniel looked worried, thoughtful. “If he doesn't trust you, why should I?”

Look, damn you. Look
. Morgan willed the small man to see the similarities, understand why Morgan wanted to help. Nick threw the leg irons at him. “You know what to do,” he said with some bitterness.

Morgan looked down at them. “You planning to leave me alone here, chained to a tree?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Nick said. “But Daniel will check on you frequently enough. Food and water. Blankets. Even conversation if you want some. Daniel's good at that Forty-eight hours, and you can go.”

“What makes you think I'll let Daniel go then?”

“Because I've come to know you, Ranger. You don't punish loyalty.”

“We know each other too well,” Morgan said. “I don't think you'll use that gun.”

“But you don't
really
know, do you? I wouldn't kill you, but after the past few weeks I wouldn't be too sad about putting another bullet in you some place painful, if not fatal.”

Morgan understood that. If he'd been Nick, he wouldn't feel too damn sad about it, either.

“Nick,” Daniel suddenly said. “Maybe he's right. Jonathon says there's a couple of men in town looking for you. Bounty hunters.”

Morgan felt a chill run down his back. Lori had gone into town. His eyes met Nick's suddenly, and he saw the same fear he knew must be in his own. “Did he describe them?” Morgan asked.

“Man with white hair. He was real distinctive, according to Jonathon.”

Morgan turned on the little man with intensity. “How did you find out where we would be heading?”

Nick answered instead. “A telegram. She managed to send a telegram from Georgetown.”

“That means they checked the telegraph office. It also means they know Lori was traveling with us,” Morgan said. “They'll go after her.”

Nick closed his eyes for a moment. It was Morgan's chance, but he didn't take it. Something else was more important at the moment.

“Daniel,” Nick finally said, “stay here with him. I'll ride to the wagon, see if Lori is there.”

Daniel gave him directions, then worried aloud. “She should have been back by now. She said she was coming back to the road.” It was obvious he hadn't thought of the possibility of someone going after Lori. Otherwise, Morgan knew, he would probably have wondered about Lori's tardiness before now. The chill grew deeper inside.

“I want to go with you,” he said to Nick. He knew it sounded arrogant, but he wasn't any damn good at asking favors.

“No,” Nick said. “If she isn't with the wagon, I'll come back for you. Put on that leg iron before we waste more time.”

Morgan thought about protesting further, even doing something physical, but he believed Nick's promise to return, and he didn't want to delay things more. He reached over and did what he'd ordered Nick to do so often. He didn't like it, particularly now. He wanted to go after Lori, and he clenched his teeth tightly shut to keep from saying anything, to delay Nick or to change his mind about returning.

Nick didn't show any satisfaction in the turnabout. He mounted his horse and with a slap to its backside galloped toward the road.

As Lori regained consciousness, she became slowly aware of being balanced on a horse by a strange hand. She tried to move her hands, but they were tied. She struggled to remember what had happened. Shadowy figures, then pain. That's all.

Her slight movements apparently alerted the man holding her. His arm tightened painfully just below her breasts.

“Coming awake, are you?” a voice said into her ear. It was an ugly voice, insinuating and taunting. The smell of him wrapped around her unpleasantly, and she tried to move away from him, but he merely tightened his hold, bruising her breasts.

“Don't squirm,” he said, “or you might start something a little earlier than I planned.”

She stilled.

“An obedient woman. I like that,” the man whispered in her ear. “I hope for your sake you continue that way.”

A shudder ran through her. “What do you want?”

“Merely to serve the purposes of law and order,” he said, his hand going up to her breast and fondling it. He was deliberately trying to frighten her, to threaten her, and he was succeeding.

“Bounty hunter?” she said with contempt.

His hand became more punishing. “Have some respect,” he said. “Your brother is a murderer. No need to be so falutin high and mighty.”

Lori forced herself to remain silent. This must be the man Morgan warned Nick and her about. The partner of the one killed in the mountains. How had he found them?

Lori had learned from her encounters with Morgan. She had learned to wait and pick her time. She slumped in the saddle as if cowed. It cost her to do that; she wanted to yell and swear and spit. But that would accomplish nothing but make him more alert.

Her family would know now. She should have been back to them by now. They would come looking for her. Nick. Papa. Andy.

Morgan.

Her heart pounded as she thought of him. She had tried to avoid it since she left early this morning. She had tried to quiet the despair at leading him into a trap, tried not to think about the look in his eyes when he realized what had happened. What
had
happened? Had he reached Pueblo? Had Nick been freed? Had either of them been hurt?

She was so consumed with worry about them, she didn't have space in her heart to worry about herself. She was startled then when they came to a stop and she was unceremoniously dumped from the horse. She turned and looked up at her captor. His hair was white, although he was not an old man. His face was cruel, his eyes narrow and pale blue.

He dismounted. “Now,” he said, “you're going to tell me where I can find Nicholas Braden.”

Morgan stood and leaned against a tree. He couldn't remain sitting. He was too restless. Goddamn chains.

He looked over at Daniel, who was sitting on a log, a rifle nearby. “Nick mentioned conversation,” Morgan said.

Daniel's eyebrows furrowed together thoughtfully as he studied Morgan. “Suits me,” he said finally.

“How long have you been with the Bradens?”

Daniel smiled wryly. “No threats, no pleas?”

Morgan shrugged. “Wouldn't do any good, would it?”

“No.”

“I don't particularly want to talk about the weather.”

Daniel chuckled, despite the worry lines deepening around his face. He spread his small legs out. “I've been with Jonathon since I was a boy.”

Morgan held his breath. “You were there when Nick was born, then?”

Daniel's eyes were almost black, but Morgan saw something flicker there. Caution?

Instead of answering, Daniel threw a question back at Morgan. “Why?”

“It's important,” Morgan said tersely. For one of the few times in his life he wished he were better at … being subtle rather than demanding answers. He didn't know how to do anything but attack directly. He'd never felt it important before to skirmish around something he wanted to know.

“Why?” Daniel asked again, and Morgan made a sudden decision. He sat back down on the ground and pulled the boot off his free right foot, then the woolen sock. Without explanation or words he showed Daniel the bottom of his foot and watched the man's face pale.

“Nick has a mark just like it on his left foot,” Morgan said. “I saw it this morning. The likeness, a coincidence maybe … but the birthmark …?”

“Did you say anything to Nick?” Daniel's face was strained, his voice ragged.

“No … I wanted to be sure.”

“I can't help you.”

Damn this family's loyalty. Daniel knew something. Morgan sensed it. He felt urgency creep into his voice. “I was born in southwest Texas in 1844. July. Near where El Paso is now.”

What little color that remained in the man's face left it. He closed his eyes as if trying to remember something, and then awareness passed across his face as his eyes opened again, and he stared at Morgan as if seeing a ghost. He stood and walked away, leaving Morgan to clench his fists in frustration.