The Texas Ranger's Secret

by DeWanna Pace

  He laid down his fork and pushed back his chair so he could gather his plate and glass. “Need help with the dishes?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever made such an offer.

  Daisy gathered the children’s empty plates along with her own. “That’s kind of you, but we’ll get to these later.”

  “I’ll take care of them,” the cook said. “Y’all move into the parlor and see what’s in those letters. I’m sure he’s in a hurry to be on his way.”

  Gage was glad he didn’t have to make good on his offer.

  The widow’s small daughter piped up. “Why don’t ya just stay the night, Mr. Gage? You can bunk in the barn with Shepard or out under the stars with Bass. We’ll unsaddle your horse tied out front and put him in an empty stall.”

  Daisy looked askance at Gage as she put the dishes in a wash tin and wiped her hands on a cloth. “You’re certainly most welcome to. We have a couple of extra bunks out there and fresh blankets.”

  Everyone but the cook headed for the parlor.

  “I appreciate the offer.” Gage took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs across from a flowered settee. “But I’m sure you ladies still have plenty to do before the wedding tomorrow. I don’t want to get in your way. I’ll just hand you these envelopes and wait and see if you need me to take back a reply. Oh, and—” he glanced at Willow, who was moving closer to the front door as he spoke “—I’d appreciate picking up my hat if you’re finished with it.”

  Light from the parlor lamp shone on the livery burner’s hair, making him see it well for the first time. Streaks the color of the July sun baking the earth filtered through the wealth of curls she’d combed and set free from her earlier upswept tangle. Not quite blond yet nowhere near red, the peculiar color matched her somehow. Odd yet pretty. She needed to leave it down.

  “Y-you’ll have to give me a moment,” she stammered. “I’ll need to see what I did with it and—”

  “Right there, Aunt Willow.” Thaddeus pointed to the rack she had positioned herself in front of. “Looks like ya broke it.”

  Willow grabbed the hat. “Just give me a moment, Mr. Newcomb, and it will be perfectly fine. The stove’s hot and my sister has the irons heating already.” She turned to Daisy. “May I use one of them?”

  “Of course. Just make sure you reheat whatever you use when you’re done.” Daisy exhaled a long breath. “I still have a lot of pressing to do before I go to bed tonight.”

  “Ahh, Mama, you don’t have to iron nothing for me. I’m gonna get it wrinkled up anyway,” complained Ollie. “You know I will.”

  Snow fumbled with one of her rollers. “My hair will never dry like this by morning. I might as well take these out and use the irons instead. Or better yet, make you help me curl it before the wedding,” she grumbled as Willow moved past. “You’re the reason it’s still wet, remember?”

  When Willow spun around and faced her complaining sister, Gage noted each definitely had some sort of issue with the other. But as long as there was no gunfire involved, it wasn’t his concern.

  “Just let me take care of Mr. Newcomb’s hat and I’ll be more than happy to help with your hair,” Willow said sweetly before disappearing into the kitchen.

  An admirable effort, Gage thought, probably to not appear quarrelsome in front of the children.

  But from the sound of the banging and clanging of irons against the stovetop, she didn’t have any better handle on her temper than he had earlier. A dangerous situation considering Willow had already proven herself too clumsy for her own good.

  “Watch out!” yelled the cook. “You’re going to—”

  “Now I’ve gone and done it. Mr. Newcomb, can you come in here a minute?” Willow wailed from the kitchen.

  The children raced to see, but Daisy stood and held them back. “You two go upstairs and get your clothes laid out for tomorrow. I’ll be up to check on you in a bit.”

  As the children complained but complied, Gage raised a palm, motioning Daisy to wait. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the letters. “Here—why don’t you read this while I help her? The other one’s for Willow. I’ve got a clue what’s happened in there, so no need for you to concern yourself.”

  Daisy accepted the letters, and the rip of the envelope being opened behind him gave Gage hope that coming here might prove worth the time. His goal now was to see what emergency Willow had gotten herself into and get her out quick enough so she could read her letter, too.

  He stuck his head around the kitchen doorway. One look confirmed what he’d suspected. His hat dangled from a forefinger on her right hand, a hole burned into the crumbled crown where she’d attempted to press it into shape. The irons had been too hot.

  He moved toward her, lifted the hat from her finger and settled it on his head. Now he’d have to pay a visit to the mercantile and see if there were any replacements in stock or if he’d have to go without one until he could order it in from Fort Worth or Mobeetie.

  Willow’s gaze swept up to study him and he let her see that though the thought of having to bare his face to everybody would be an irritating prospect, he refused to overreact to the loss of a hat.

  “Maybe the first skill I ought to teach you, Miss McMurtry, is how to handle something hot,” he suggested. “From what I’ve seen so far, you could use a little more practice in that area.”

  Her chin tilted as challenge flared in her eyes. “Got wisdom on how to control a temper, do you?”

  She had some bite in her beak, and he deserved the pecking for criticizing her. He made a mental note to go easier on that as he taught her, but he wasn’t about to admit that he’d lost his temper with her earlier. “If I don’t have enough already, I’m sure I will have by the time we get through with the lessons you want,” he answered her.

  “So you’ve made up your mind you’ll teach me?”

  “Long as you’ll stay away from my next hat.” He liked a good challenge and keeping her close would assure him she had no other motive than just to learn.

  She paused a moment as if she was reconsidering her offer. Finally, she held out her hand and said, “Deal.”

  He shook her hand and noticed she was doing her best to grip as though she had the strength of a man. He admired her bravado, but he eased up on his own grip so he wouldn’t crush her confidence. “Deal.”

  “You two sound like you better tread carefully in whatever you’re planning,” the cook warned, her voice cracking like thunder as she continued washing dishes, “or you’ll find yourselves in more trouble than either of you can handle.”

  Gage knew a formidable opponent when he met one. He saw that Myrtle had already taken Willow under her wing and assigned herself as chief protector of Daisy’s family while the bride honeymooned. If he discovered Willow guilty of any involvement with the horse thief and Myrtle didn’t like the way he handled the situation, there was nothing more dangerous than an angry woman with an iron skillet defending her own.

  “Duly warned, ma’am.” He tipped the edge of his battered hat.

  “I suspect we ought to be seeing about those letters now,” Willow encouraged, setting the irons back into proper order to reheat.

  Gage moved aside to let her pass, glad she was the one who mentioned putting an end to the evening so he could hurry back to town. As they returned to the parlor, he noticed Daisy had already finished reading her letter. She handed the other one to Willow.

  “Who do you know in Georgia?” Curiosity colored Daisy’s tone as she peered at Willow. Then her attention immediately swept to Gage’s hat. “Oh, my, there’s no fixing that, is there?”

  Willow sat and busied herself in opening her letter, then scanned it instead of giving any explanation concerning the hat.

  Gage decided there was no reason to dig the spur in deeper. “It’ll hold off some of the rain until I get back to town. Just about worn it threadbare anyway. ’Bout time to buy a new one.”

  He watched Willow fold her letter and put it back
in the envelope, clearly having not read all the pages. “Do either of you need me to take back a reply?”

  Willow glanced up at him, looking startled and shoving the envelope deep into the pocket of her dress.

  “I don’t,” Daisy announced, taking his attention away from her sister for just a moment. The future bride’s lips broke into a radiant smile. “It’s a confirmation of a surprise I have for Bass. Mother and Father are going to join us in Saint Louis since they couldn’t be here for the wedding. I can’t wait for Bass to meet them.”

  “I’ll wait until next time I go to town to mail my answer,” Willow replied quickly, then turned the conversation back to Daisy’s excitement about joining their parents.

  Gage’s gaze returned to find Willow’s hands locked together in her lap, one of her legs bouncing slightly. The evening had proven to be a waste of his time. Willow had never answered her sister about who she knew in Georgia and had seemed far too quick to put the missive away.

  Every sense within him told Gage she was definitely hiding something and plenty nervous about it.

  But what?

  And about whom?

  And why didn’t she want anyone to know?

  A sense of time ticking away filled Gage with an urgency to be about his business. Only God knew the hour his vision would go, when his skills would become more a danger than a service to anyone.

  Whatever her deception, he could use Willow McMurtry to sharpen his waning abilities until Hodge made his next move.

  It seemed everyone in this part of Texas had been invited to the wedding tomorrow, providing the perfect opportunity for the thief to show himself as friend or foe to Willow.

  Something about Willow McMurtry was setting Gage’s instincts on alert.

  He sensed she was about to give him more problems than putting out a fire or buying a new hat.

  Question now was, did whatever she hid about her letter have anything to do with his connection to Hodge?

  Chapter Five

  Charged with keeping Daisy’s wedding bouquet safe from harm, Willow stood apart from everyone to make sure she protected it from others moving about.

  She watched guests carrying platters of food and wedding gifts down the flower-strewn slope that led to the location behind Daisy’s home where the wedding would take place. Daisy had told her that she and Bass had once shared a picnic here that had started them on the path to true love. They wanted to pay honor to her first husband, who had unknowingly brought them together. Knox Trumbo now rested in the family cemetery a roll of prairie beyond them.

  While Daisy and her groom greeted their guests, others visited and chatted, layering the air with anticipation.

  Willow spotted Gage Newcomb talking to the three Viking-sized men surrounding the blacksmith and a woman who must be the smithy’s wife, for he wrapped his arm around her protectively.

  The McMurtrys had grown up in Florida with the Trumbo brothers, so she remembered these three well. Daisy had married Knox, the oldest of the four brothers, and at his urging she’d set up home in Texas. Though the surviving brothers looked tough as rawhide with their tanned skin, sun-streaked hair and broken noses, they had a soft spot in their hearts for her oldest sister and her children. That made them good people to Willow, no matter how rough they appeared.

  Gage wore a different hat today and looked handsome in the Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes he’d apparently bought for the occasion. Of course, he wouldn’t have worn the smoke-stained duster or the hot-ironed holey hat she’d ruined. Later, when they talked, Willow would ask what he’d paid for the replacements and see that she reimbursed him for the expense.

  She raised the bridal bouquet to her nose to ward off the memory of the fire and embarrassment that she still felt for having caused the damage.

  Her attention shifted from Gage to the sweet verbena, the purplish-pink flowers with white centers that obviously meant something special to Daisy and Bass. The verbena graced the bouquet and every table as centerpieces, and they interlaced the arbor built for the couple to stand beneath while taking their vows.

  The choice of location and flowers couldn’t have been more beautiful, in her opinion, as long as the morning insects stayed their distance. She’d been surprised to learn the little white church in town would not be used for the setting, but now that she saw the size of the crowd, she could easily understand the decision to hold the wedding here.

  The stream that meandered from near the homestead through the property to pool into a small lake provided a sun-kissed reflection of the bright Texas morning. Even the crosses and stone marker that stood in the cemetery just beyond the chosen site gave the place a sense of sacredness that honored the proceeding.

  Blue-speckled pots hung from iron triangles over a line of small campfires meant to keep coffee hot and plentiful, while milk chilled in bottles down at the water’s edge for those wanting something cold to drink.

  Tables laden with breakfast foods of all kinds tempted Willow to take a bite or two, but Myrtle and some of the townswomen who’d offered to help serve already had their hands full swatting away the fingers of eager children. Not wanting to present a bad example for Ollie and Thad, Willow elected to mind her manners and concentrate on the one task she’d been assigned.

  This was the first wedding she’d attended where the reception would take place before the wedding rather than after. She stored the images and senses away for writing down later. Her boss and readers would savor the details that added to the Texas experience.

  There were important things to concentrate on this morning, like making sure she got through her part of the ceremony, handing over the bouquet to Daisy. Without mishap.

  Determined to think positive, Willow sucked in a deep breath of morning air.

  Just as she refocused on the people rather than the enticing food, her breath caught and she thought she would choke. There, walking toward her, was Ellie Finchmeister, Atlanta’s most notorious gossip.

  Why on earth was she here?

  Don’t do anything wrong in front of her.

  She has no clue you wrote the stories about Ketchum.

  Maybe she doesn’t really see you and she’s headed toward someone else.

  Willow started backing up as her mind raced on how to dodge Ellie. She bumped a table and heard a slosh.

  Willow turned to discover a huge bowl of pink punch and the largest cake she’d ever seen. Punch now stained the tablecloth but had missed the bouquet. Not so fortunate with the cake. Buttery icing dotted the verbena, leaving one side of the cake stripped barren.

  A gnat landed on the bouquet and Willow shook it off. Would Daisy have to swat bugs away until the moment she tossed the bouquet to hopeful contenders?

  The morning had started out so well. Willow had been determined to prove she could get through this one day without causing any harm and prove herself capable. Would that day ever come?

  “Yoo-hoo, Miss McMurtry!” The reed-thin Georgia native raised the fan she held and waved it at Willow. “Is that really you?”

  No, it’s someone else, Willow wanted to say to the gossip, whose nose seemed to extend the length of her reputation. But it would be rude to ignore her. That would just set Ellie into undue speculation. Best to get this over with.

  While Willow waited for her to catch up, she attempted to wipe icing from the petals and only ended up breaking off a cluster. After Willow tried to hide the gap, the bouquet began looking poorly and Willow wasn’t sure where to wipe the stickiness from her hands. She needed to find a cloth, fast. But Ellie finally reached her and Willow didn’t want to have to explain why she must leave so quickly.

  Offering the best smile she could muster, she announced, “I’m surprised to see you here, Ellie.”

  Ellie’s brown eyes lit with excitement. “Oh, this wedding has been all the talk since I arrived to visit my aunt. You probably know her as Esther Sue Jenkins.”

  Willow shook her head. “I haven’t met her yet.”

 
“You will. She’s quite well respected here in High Plains, I’m told.”

  Willow could imagine an older version of Ellie and shuddered. People infatuated with their own importance were the worst of gossips. Had Ellie inherited her tendencies from her relative, as Willow had from her own grandfather?

  “So your aunt knows my sister and that’s why you’re here?” Willow asked.

  Ellie pointed her fan in the direction of an elderly woman walking down the slope dressed in funeral black. “Yes, in fact, she’s certain she played a part in bringing the bride and groom together. I can’t wait to get back to Atlanta and tell everyone I actually got to attend Bass Parker’s wedding. You know he’s one of the wealthiest men in the social register. A captain of industry, I’m told.” She flicked her fan open again and gave a little wink. “But then, your sister must have already made you aware of that, I’m sure.”

  “Actually, no. I didn’t meet the man until just after sunrise and we haven’t had time to discuss his income.” The moment she said it, Willow knew she should have corralled her impulsive nature. But the deliberate attack on Daisy’s code of honor could not go unchallenged. “From the story her cook told me, my sister refused any part of his money for years.”

  Ellie’s eyebrows jerked upward as if attempting to attach themselves alongside her widow’s peak. The insulted gossip would find a way to get back at her.

  Willow decided to stay as far away from Ellie as possible while the woman remained in High Plains. She had a legitimate excuse to justify the action. Children to watch.

  And skills to learn, she added but vowed Ellie would never hear those words from her lips.

  At the moment she needed to salvage a sticky bouquet and ward off any further pests.

  * * *

  “Here, need this?” Gage handed Willow a cloth napkin he’d borrowed when she’d backed up and plowed the bouquet into the side of the cake. “I dipped it in the lake and thought you could use it.”

  Her cheeks turned rosy as she accepted the cloth and held the flowers out to him. “Will you hold these while I wipe my hands? I seem to be an accident waiting to happen lately.”