by Bobbi Smith
But he didn’t love her. There could never be a future for them.
It devastated her to think that he didn’t want her. There was no denying it, though. He’d made it perfectly clear that he’d been sorry about what had happened between them.
The sound of a lone rider slowly passing by the house drew her attention. She wondered who it could be at this time of night, and, painfully, she got up from her bed to look out the window. She was moving slowly, but as she reached the window she caught a glimpse of the man and recognized Jack immediately. She wondered where he was going.
Behind her, the bedroom door opened quietly, and her father and Eileen peeked in.
“Amanda! What are you doing out of bed?” Eileen asked, rushing to her side for fear that she might collapse from weakness.
“We were just coming to check on you and make sure you were resting comfortably. I had no idea you would be up moving around,” Dan added, frowning at her foolishness. He quickly lit her bedside lamp so they could see better. “The doctor said you should stay in bed for at least two days.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said meekly as she allowed them to help her back to bed.
“Why did you get up?” Eileen asked as she busied herself straightening her covers.
“I heard a rider outside and went to look. It was Jack, Eileen, and he was riding out of town. Where is he going? Isn’t he staying here to help you with the line, Papa?” She looked between the two of them, desperate for answers to her questions.
“No, sweetheart,” Dan began to explain, “Jack and I talked earlier this evening, and he’s decided to go back to work as a Ranger.”
“He’s leaving forever?” she said, shocked.
“He’s going off to find the ones who shot you. He’ll be back when he’s got them in custody. He’s determined to bring them in himself.”
“And he’ll do it, too,” Eileen told her with certainty.
“But what if something happens to him?”
“It won’t.” Eileen was firm. “Jack’s the best. You know it as well as I do. When that man makes up his mind to do something, he does it. He’ll find them, Amanda, and he’ll be back.”
Amanda drew a shuddering breath as she lay weakly back on her pillow. “I hope he’s careful. They’re dangerous . . . and the Sheldons are still out there looking for him, too.”
“The Sheldons?” Dan asked, frowning.
Amanda quickly explained about the outlaws who’d broken out of jail and were hunting for Jack. “He’s got to watch his back. He’s got to be careful.”
“Jack will be. He’s a professional. He doesn’t take chances,” Dan assured her. He pressed a soft kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Now, you get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.”
They turned the lamp back down and left her alone again. When they were in the hall, they shared a knowing look.
“I think she cares more for our Jack than she’ll admit.”
“And I think he feels the same way.”
“We’ll just have to let nature take its course, I guess,” Eileen remarked, wondering if there was any way to help Amanda recognize her feelings for Jack.
“That’s the safest way, but sometimes it’s the slowest way, too.”
“We’ll see what happens.”
“Let’s just pray everything goes well for him.”
“I will.”
Back in her room, Amanda lay staring out the window at the starry sky. She wondered if Jack was looking at the same stars. She wondered, too, if he thought of her at all.
Sleep finally claimed her, and she rested.
Dawn found Jack and Stalking Ghost poring over the scene of the attack. Stalking Ghost located the outlaws’ trail right away, and they rode off in pursuit of the attackers. The going was slow, for the gang had deliberately chosen to ride over the worst terrain so it would provide the best cover for them.
But Stalking Ghost enjoyed a challenge. Working together, they never lost the tracks completely and made good time in the hunt. The outlaws were heading north, and the only town in that direction was Del Cuero, a hard two days’ ride ahead. It had a reputation for being wild and deadly, and no doubt the gang could hide out there and feel safe.
Jack planned to change all that. They kept moving at a steady, ground-eating pace as they trailed the outlaws. Their days of freedom were numbered.
Pete and Mick sat at the table in the back of the Gold Nugget Saloon in Del Cuero, nursing their drinks and their foul moods. The fake robbery attempt on the stage was supposed to have been easy, but from the minute they’d fired the first shot, there had been nothing easy about it.
“Damn,” Pete swore as he tried to move his injured arm. He’d been shot in the shoulder, and even now, after three days, he was still in considerable pain. Of course, he was much better off than Rich and Merle. They were dead. “If I ever get my hands on Carroll—”
“You’ll have to drag me off of him, because I’ll be there before you,” Mick told him. He had seen his friends killed and had almost been wounded himself. “I kept thinking he’d send some word to us to let us know what went wrong, but he ain’t done nothing.”
“Good thing he paid us up front, but he still didn’t pay me enough to take a bullet for him.”
“He didn’t pay Rich or Merle enough either,” Mick added. “I hope there wasn’t trouble back in San Rafael. Surely, if there had been, we would have heard by now.”
“Whatever happened, I guess he just wants us to lay low for a while.”
“I don’t mind laying low, but if he comes up with any more ideas like this last one, I’m moving on.”
“I think we should move on now. What with only the two of us left standing, there ain’t a lot we can do, and I don’t want to bring anybody new in on this.”
“I’m with you on that. Let’s give it a few more days and see what we hear from Ted. Then we’ll see what we’re doing next.”
It was late afternoon and the streets of Del Cuero were busy as Jack rode in alone. His pace was slow and his manner cautious. He was wearing his Ranger badge and had his hat pulled down low over his eyes. He looked dangerous, like the kind of man you didn’t want to anger, and more than a few heads turned to watch him as he rode silently by.
Jack and Stalking Ghost hadn’t been sure exactly who they were after until they’d found the graves late the first day out. Once Jack had identified the remains of Merle Jones and Rich Lavel, he’d known the other two they were tracking. It had to be Pete Martin and Mick Humes.
Jack remembered the four men from his early years as a Ranger. They had been only small-time thieves then, so it looked as though they’d graduated to more exciting endeavors now.
One thing troubled Jack, though, and that was that none of them was smart enough to have coordinated all the robberies. He was anxious to catch up with them, but he had to be careful about shooting first and asking questions later. He would have liked nothing better than to gun them down on sight. He wanted revenge for Amanda, Asa, and Dan, but he knew if Martin and Humes were dead, they wouldn’t be able to tell him who the boss was, and he wanted the man—or woman—behind it all.
Jack reined in at the stable and moved through the building, casually checking the horses there. He found the stallion with the partially broken shoe boarded there. Their luck had held.
“Can I help you?” Harry, the stable owner, asked in a gruff, threatening voice as he came up behind Jack. He wondered what this stranger was doing in his stable, looking over his horses.
Jack slowly turned to face him. “I’m just checking a few things out here.”
“You’re a Ranger?” the big, burly man’s eyes widened as he saw Jack’s badge.
“That’s right. Jack Logan’s the name. Do you know who owns this horse?”
Harry was suddenly nervous. His beady eyes shifted from the horse to Jack and back. He knew damn good and well that it was Pete Martin’s mount. “Why’re you asking?”
“I’ve been
tracking a horse with a broken shoe just like this one all the way from the scene of a stage robbery near San Rafael. Thought I might have a talk with its owner.” He spoke in easy tones, but there was no mistaking the steel behind his words.
Harry looked at the Ranger badge again and knew it was time to cut and run. You didn’t mess with the Texas Rangers. Everyone knew they could ride like Mexicans, track like Indians, shoot like the Tennesseans and fight like the devil. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them. “That particular horse belongs to Pete Martin.”
Jack knew he was telling the truth. ‘‘Any idea where I might find Mr. Martin?”
“He and his partner, Mick Humes, have rooms over at the Gold Nugget. It’s just down the street.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I see to your horse for you?” Harry offered.
“No, I don’t plan on staying in town long enough to use your facilities, but thanks for the offer.”
“Don’t mention it.”
With that, Jack mounted up and rode down the street to the saloon. He dismounted with careful deliberation and walked into the bar.
It was a quiet time at the Gold Nugget. Only one girl and the barkeep were working, and there were just a few customers partaking of the saloon’s hospitality. Jack surveyed the patrons in a single glance and knew Humes and Martin weren’t among them.
He glanced up at the balcony that ran across the width of the room. The doors to the rented rooms opened onto it and would give anyone coming out a clear view of all that was transpiring below.
Jack went to the bar and ordered a drink. He nursed it, enjoying the bite of the liquor.
“What brings you to town?” Jim, the barkeep, asked, trying to make conversation.
“Just trying to catch up with a few friends. Heard that they were staying here and thought I’d see if I could find them.”
The barkeep worked at polishing the bar in front of him as he spoke. “Who you looking for?”
“Two men—Pete Martin and Mick Humes. You wouldn’t happen to know which rooms they’re stayin’ in, would you?”
Jim looked decidedly uncomfortable, but knew he had no choice. He had heard what Rangers could do to a place if something upset them, so he decided to tell the truth. “They’re both upstairs. Humes is in number five; Martin’s in eight.”
“I appreciate it.”
The bartender only grunted, disgusted with being put in such a position. He moved away, not wanting to be anywhere close when the inevitable happened.
As Jack finished his drink, his thoughts were on Amanda. He remembered how pale and fragile she’d looked after being shot, and a cold and ruthless determination filled him. He started up the steps after the men who’d almost killed Amanda. They had murdered Asa, wounded Dan and robbed the stage line numerous times. It was time to see them put away.
He approached room five first. He drew his gun, then knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Mick called out in a slurred voice.
Jack didn’t respond. He knocked again, and stepped back and to the side to wait for his quarry to physically answer the door.
Mick was irritated that someone was playing games with him. He was still half-drunk from what he’d imbibed earlier that day, and he was in no mood to put up with anything or anyone. He didn’t even think about picking up his gun as he stumbled drunkenly from his bed to open the door.
“What the hell do you want?” he roared angrily as he opened the portal to find himself staring down the barrel of Jack’s gun. “What the—”
“You’re under arrest for—”
Jack got no further. Mick turned and dove toward the table beside his bed where he’d left his sidearm. Jack was too fast for him. He fired, his shot taking the wanted man in the shoulder. Mick gave a scream of pain as he collapsed on the floor in agony. Jack moved into the room and picked up Mick’s gun, then went back to the doorway to watch for Pete.
Just down the hall, Pete had heard the sound of the gunfire and grabbed his revolver. He ran from his room to find Jack standing in the hall, a gun in each hand.
“Hello, Martin. I see you’re still working with your old partner, Humes, here.”
“What the hell . . . ?”
“Hell’s where you’re going if you try to use that gun,” Jack said in a cold voice. “Just put it down on the floor and kick it aside. I’d hate for any accidents to happen.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“The name’s Logan, Ranger Jack Logan, and I’m here to arrest the two of you for the murder of Asa Taylor and the wounding of Amanda and Dan Taylor.”
Chapter Eighteen
“We never killed nobody!” Pete shouted after he’d done what Jack had ordered him to do and kicked his gun away.
“I guess we’ll have to let a jury decide that.” Jack had expected them to lie and claim they were innocent.
“I’m telling you, Logan—we didn’t do it!”
Jack gestured him toward Mick’s room with his gun. Pete moved quickly. As he entered the room, he was shocked to see an Indian climb through the window. He looked back at the Ranger, thinking he would be surprised, too, but Jack just tossed the Indian two pairs of handcuffs.
“Restrain them, Stalking Ghost,” Jack told him.
Pete watched as Stalking Ghost handcuffed the wounded Mick and then came toward him. He was tempted to run, to try to fight his way out of there, but knew there was no escape. He knew he wouldn’t make it to the door.
Once Jack was certain that the two outlaws wouldn’t be causing any more trouble, he holstered his gun and set Mick’s aside. He went to the wounded man and examined his shoulder.
“He’s going to have to see a doctor before we can ride for San Rafael.”
“I’ll get him.”
Just as Stalking Ghost started from the room, the sheriff of Del Cuero, Ken Barnes, came running into the saloon. The patrons told him the shooting had happened upstairs. He took the steps two at a time, ready for trouble.
“The sheriff is here,” Stalking Ghost told Jack.
Jack moved to the doorway to greet the lawman as Stalking Ghost continued on his way to get the doctor. “I’m Ranger Logan, and I’m taking Pete Martin and Mick Humes in for robbery and murder.”
“Sheriff,” Pete pleaded. “I keep telling him we didn’t kill nobody, but he won’t listen!”
“You know for sure you got the right ones?”
“Tracked them all the way here.”
Barnes nodded. He knew how good the Rangers were. “You need any help taking them back or do you want to use the jail until you’re ready to go?”
“Thanks. If you could lock up Martin for me until the doctor’s had a chance to patch up Humes, I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem.” The sheriff marched Pete from the room. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
Jack helped Mick onto his bed after the sheriff and Pete had gone.
“You bastard!” Mick swore as pain jolted through him with each move he made.
Jack’s regard was deadly. “You keep talking like that, you’ll be making the trip to San Rafael without seeing the doctor. It wouldn’t trouble me in the least, and it might keep you from trying anything.”
“Pete told you we didn’t kill nobody. Why don’t you believe us?”
“Why should I?”
“Because there’s more to this than just stage robberies,” he said earnestly.
Jack eyed him suspiciously. “My information places you and your partner at the scene of the robbery near San Rafael less than a week ago. Why should I believe there’s more to it than that?”
“Because there is.”
“That’s what they all say,” Jack replied disparagingly. “Look, Humes, I’ve already found the bodies of your other two partners where you buried them on the way here.”
He walked over to the small dresser where Mick had left his saddlebags. He opened them and pulled out a stack of bills, still banded, that had been pa
rt of the payroll from the earlier robbery.
“And this just proves it all. This money was part of that take, and whoever robbed the stage a few weeks ago murdered Asa Taylor and severely injured Dan Taylor. One of you also shot and nearly killed Amanda Taylor during this last attempt.”
Mick was nervous. He knew things looked bad, but he also knew he hadn’t done any killing. “The money proves the robbery part, all right, but I’m telling you, we didn’t kill anybody.”
“If you didn’t, who did?” Jack waited tensely for his answer.
Just then Stalking Ghost returned with the doctor, and he was forced to wait for his answer. The physician made quick work of treating the wound. The bullet had passed through, so the wound was relatively clean. He bound his patient up tightly and pronounced him fit enough to ride. Jack paid the man for his time. Stalking Ghost went downstairs when the doctor departed, leaving Jack alone with Mick.
“You were about to answer my question.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I think you should be more concerned about what’s going to happen to you if you don’t tell me.” Jack was in no mood to negotiate. He had won.
“All right . . . All right . . . We were in on it from the start . . . all four of us. But something went wrong the other day. He’d told us the robbery was supposed to be a fake. He wanted us to make the attempt, but then let ourselves be driven back by his return fire.”
“His return fire—” Jack repeated Mick’s words as Isaac’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Ted Carroll. He hired us to disrupt the stage line’s business. He wanted to take it over and sell it off. He even rode with us that time when the one owner was killed and the other one was wounded. He’s the one who wanted them dead. He did the shooting, but he didn’t do a very good job. And then with this fake attempt . . . I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, setting that up. He said he wanted us to make him look good, but it was no game to whoever was riding shotgun. He meant business.”