Texas Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Carol Finch

  “Watching and waiting,” she replied evasively.

  Carlos fastened his holster in place, then shook a stubby finger in her face. “You be careful, do you hear me? We don’t have the little bambino home safe yet. I don’t want something to happen to you in the meantime…. Rosita!”

  His wife appeared at the door and wrapped her robe around her. “Sí, Carlos. I heard. I won’t let Maddie out of my sight.”

  When Carlos dashed off to fetch a horse, Maddie turned to Rosita. “I’ll be at the house.” She didn’t bother to mention that her favorite gelding stood at the hitching post, where it had been tied in preparation for her riding to retrieve Christina. “Come up there when you’re dressed.”

  When Rosita pivoted to fetch her clothes, Maddie sprinted outside and jogged uphill. She was on the strawberry roan gelding in a single bound and raced off into the darkness.

  Jonah halted and pricked up his ears when he heard scrabbling noises to the right and left of him. Pebbles cascaded down the rugged hillside, assuring him that the outlaws were closing ranks. He also heard the sound of bullets being shoved into the chambers of rifles.

  He smiled in wry amusement when he saw what he was undoubtedly supposed to assume was an Indian warrior—in full war-party regalia—rise from behind a boulder. Colorful war paint was slashed across the man’s face and his bare chest was covered with a bead-and-bone breastplate. Jonah’s gaze swung to the pinto behind the supposed chief. A motionless bundle covered with a buffalo hide quilt was draped on the horse.

  Jonah’s gaze swung back to study the man, who wore a feathered headdress, doehide breeches and leggings. The chief didn’t walk or move like an Indian. Being one himself, Jonah could recognize an imposter at a glance.

  “Where is the girl’s sister?” the would-be Indian demanded in stilted English.

  “She’s having a nervous breakdown,” Jonah supplied smoothly. “I came in her stead because I’m her husband.”

  The news didn’t appear to faze the charlatan chief. No doubt he’d been informed that Maddie had acquired a husband.

  “You brought money?” the imposter questioned.

  Jonah hitched his thumb toward his horse. “In the saddlebag. I want to see the girl first. If she isn’t in good condition I will only pay for what I get.”

  The comment caught the chief off guard. He glanced sideways, alerting Jonah that one of his cohorts was hiding behind a nearby boulder. That accounted for two outlaws. He suspected there were more perched above him, waiting to ambush him the instant the chief had the money in hand. Jonah sure as hell hoped Boone had located the bushwhackers by now. Otherwise, Jonah might be nursing more than an injured shoulder.

  “Show me the girl,” he demanded in Comanche dialect. The supposed chief blinked. Well, that verified Jonah’s assumption. Not only was the man an imposter, but he didn’t have the slightest command of the language. “Show me the girl now,” he repeated in English.

  The man glowered at him. Jonah ignored the intimidating stare and focused on the unmoving bundle on the horse. Christina was either dead or drugged. Jonah hoped it was the latter.

  Without turning his back, the chief stepped toward the pinto to jerk the sack off the girl’s head. Pale golden hair tumbled over the horse’s flank. Jonah felt a jolt spear through him and he wondered if he was encountering a younger version of Maddie. Christina’s face was peaked but flawless in the moonlight. According to Maddie, the girl was uncommonly attractive. He prayed that she hadn’t been used to appease the lusts of these outlaws.

  Rage boiled inside him at the thought. He was going to resort to old ways of retaliation and take a few scalps if this girl had been abused and left to deal with emotional wounds that could take years to heal. Jonah knew firsthand what that long, tormenting process was like, and he wouldn’t wish that kind of long-term misery on anyone. Least of all this lovely young girl.

  “In one piece,” the chief declared. “Now, the money for the girl.”

  As calmly as you please, Jonah replied in Comanche, “You’re loco if you think you’re going to walk out of this canyon alive.”

  The chief stared at him in confusion, so Jonah repeated the comment in plain English. When the chief made a grab for the pistol he had tucked under the breastplate, Jonah snatched the knife strapped to his thigh and hurled it. The chief went down soundlessly. In one fluid motion Jonah pivoted and grabbed the knife in his sleeve. The instant the hombre who was hiding behind the boulder raised his head and prepared to fire, Jonah hurled the dagger, then dived to the ground to dodge the bullet aimed at his chest. The pinto tried to bolt and run when the gun discharged so close to its rump, but Jonah leaped to his feet to grab the reins.

  To his relief, gunfire didn’t break out from the outcropping of rock above him. He smiled in approval. Boone had done his job well.

  “You okay, Boone?” Jonah’s voice echoed along the craggy precipice into the silence.

  “I’m fine. Just wrapping up a few loose ends. How about you, Danhill?”

  “Not a scratch on me.” Jonah turned his attention to the lifeless bundle wrapped in the blanket. Untying the ropes, he pulled Christina into his arms. The waterfall of shiny blond hair tumbled over his elbow as he placed her gently on the ground. A sigh of relief gushed from his lips when he surveyed the sleeping beauty. She didn’t appear to have been beaten, but he couldn’t swear that she hadn’t been misused.

  Although she was filthy and a musty smell clung to her hair and clothing, she seemed to be safe and sound. Her shallow breathing disturbed him, however. He had the uneasy feeling she had been given an overdose of a sedative. Jonah removed the dingy blindfold and untied her hands and feet. He gave her a gentle shake, but she didn’t respond.

  “Is she alive?” Boone asked as he approached.

  “More or less.” He scooped Christina into his arms and nodded toward the pinto. “Climb aboard the horse, Boone. You can carry this sleeping beauty home.”

  Boone mounted up, then leaned down to take the unconscious female from Jonah. A smile played on his lips as he studied the angelic young face. “Reminds me of her sister.”

  “Yeah,” Jonah murmured. “Hope this one survives to grow up to be as feisty and independent as Maddie.”

  “Her color worries me,” Boone murmured. “Too pale.” He plucked gently at the skin above her wrist. “Dehydrated is my guess.”

  Jonah swung into his saddle and reined toward the house. “What condition did you leave the other bushwhackers in?”

  “Dead condition,” Boone replied. “Thought I might be rusty with a bow but I found my mark easily enough. You?”

  “I left the masquerading Indians in the same condition. Unfortunately. I was hoping for a survivor to interrogate. Did you recognize Gibbs or Newton?” Jonah asked.

  “No,” Boone said as he followed behind Jonah. “But at least we accomplished our mission. Maybe Maddie will be so relieved to have her sister back that she won’t skin us alive.”

  Jonah smiled wryly. “Yeah, I’m counting on that myself, though it’s probably too much to ask for. I figure she’s going to let me have it with both barrels.”

  “I figure she is, too.” Boone grinned wryly. “Sure glad I’m not you, Danhill.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maddie tethered her winded steed to a scraggly cedar in an obscure ravine, then hiked toward Hanson’s ranch house. A log bunkhouse stood off to the west, protected by the overhanging canyon wall. An oversize corral filled with bawling cattle sat near the gigantic barn that dwarfed the house.

  Veering west, Maddie checked the brands on the penned cattle. She swore softly when she noticed the Bar G brand on the rumps of several steers and heifers. Damn that Avery. He’d told her that he was herding cattle to the railhead in Dodge City in the morning. He hadn’t mentioned that he was taking her stolen cattle with him.

  Confound the man! He’d made her life hell. He’d been preying on her emotions and spouting pretend sympathy, while he kidnapped her sis
ter and stole her livestock—and most likely disposed of her father.

  Her furious gaze swung to the modest stone-and-timber house, where a single light speared the darkness. No doubt Avery was waiting for his henchman to return with the money and report on the rendezvous with Jonah and Boone.

  And Jonah and Boone better not have gotten shot, and Christina better be in good condition, or Avery wouldn’t live long enough to stand trial for kidnapping, extortion and quite possibly murder, Maddie thought vengefully.

  Scolding herself for wasting time with vindictive thoughts, she crept toward the house. She was not going in half-cocked and risk having that sneaky bastard get the drop on her. She might find herself abducted and held for ransom, too, if she didn’t watch her step.

  Since she’d been in Avery’s home on several occasions, she knew the blazing light at the front of the house came from his office. That was where he’d made his first proposal two years earlier, catching her completely off guard. It had come the day after Ward Tipton had proposed to her. Upon reflection, she wondered if Avery also had an informant planted on Ward’s ranch to keep him updated on his neighbor’s business. She wouldn’t put it past that cagey rancher.

  Maddie shook off her wandering thoughts and scurried toward the back door, which led to the kitchen. The hinges whined when she opened it and Maddie clutched her pistol in her hand before tiptoeing across the room. The house held an eerie silence and an odd, unfamiliar scent, she noticed, as she inched along the wall toward the spacious dining room. The cook and housekeeper—a small, wiry Chinese man who had been in Avery’s employ since their arrival from Arizona Territory four years earlier—was nowhere to be seen. Maddie had no idea where the employee was quartered, but she presumed it was somewhere in the house.

  Halting by the door, she glanced across the foyer to determine if Avery was lounging in the dark parlor. She could see no one in the shadows. Inching down the hall, she found the office door partially open, so she cautiously craned her neck to look into the room. Maddie nearly choked when she spotted Avery Hanson—and his informant, Clem Foster.

  Hardly daring to breathe, she recoiled and plastered herself against the foyer wall. Maddie was suddenly struck with the feeling that coming here wasn’t one of her brighter ideas.

  This situation had disaster written all over it.

  Uneasy sensations slithered down Jonah’s spine as he and Boone approached the grand home. He frowned warily when he saw Rosita Perez pacing across the covered veranda.

  “Dios!” Rosita cried when she spotted the two riders. She clutched at her skirts and hurried down the steps. “Is my bambino all right?”

  Jonah couldn’t answer that question satisfactorily until he and Boone had time to thoroughly examine the girl.

  “What’s happened to her?” Rosita gasped when she noticed Christina’s motionless body draped over Boone’s lap.

  “Heavily sedated,” Jonah replied as he took Christina in his arms and turned toward the house.

  A raft of Spanish curses flooded from Rosita’s lips as she bustled up the steps and led the way to Christina’s room.

  “Do you have smelling salts on hand? Coffee?” Jonah asked as he headed up the staircase.

  “Sí, señor.”

  Jonah halted when Rosita wheeled abruptly on the step above him to make her hasty descent. He stared down into the girl’s face, noting the dark circles under her eyes and her bloodless lips. Despite her weakened condition Maddie’s sister was indeed strikingly attractive. Her features were so dainty and delicate that Jonah predicted she would one day become a heartbreaker, the likes few men could resist.

  Just like her sister.

  Something that must have been akin to brotherly concern washed over him as he carried Christina into her room. Suddenly he understood Maddie’s devotion and protectiveness. This was all that was left of her family and she guarded her sister closely.

  Jonah started when Boone’s hand shot out to turn down the quilts. Jonah had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t heard his friend’s approach. But then, Boone was half Kiowa, Jonah reminded himself. Moving as silently as a shadow was second nature to him, too.

  “I’ll tend the angel while you let the wildcat out of the closet,” Boone insisted. “I’ll wait my turn to get my eyes clawed out and my head bit off. You go first.”

  “Thanks for leaving me with the tough assignments,” Jonah grumbled.

  He stepped into the hall and passed Rosita—who’d returned with medical supplies—on his way down the stairs. Jonah heaved a resigned sigh as he veered down the dark hallway. He was not looking forward to facing Maddie’s wrath. His only hope was that she would be so relieved Christina was upstairs that she wouldn’t jump down his throat for leaving her tied up.

  Jonah’s thoughts trailed off when he noticed the overturned chair in the hallway. Scowling, he whipped open the door to the broom closet—and found nothing but mops and brooms. Damn it, he had given Boone specific instructions to tie Maddie up securely, and he’d botched it!

  Lurching around, Jonah pelted down the hall and took the steps two at a time to the bedroom. Rosita and Boone were hovering over the bed, attempting to rouse their patient.

  “She’s not where we left her,” Jonah snapped accusingly.

  Boone jerked upright and stared at him incredulously.

  “Ah, ¡caramba.” Rosita wailed. “How could I have forgotten?” She rattled in Spanish about madness and forgetfulness, but even though Jonah spoke the language fluently he had no clue what the woman was yammering about.

  “Do you know where Maddie is?” he demanded urgently.

  Rosita’s shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “No, I don’t know, but she said she suspected Avery Hanson was involved. She sent Carlos to fetch Sheriff Kilgore, then she thundered off before I reached the house.”

  Jonah swore under his breath. He had the unmistakable feeling that Maddie had raced off to confront Hanson with her suspicions. Damn it, she couldn’t read Avery every sentence and paragraph of the riot act without the risk of getting herself abducted and granting Avery the opportunity to cover his tracks.

  The wobbly groan that sounded from Christina’s ashen lips drew Jonah’s attention. He glanced back to watch Boone wave smelling salts under her nose. Eyes as blue as a mountain stream fluttered open.

  “Hey, angel, can you hear me?” Boone questioned when Christina’s eyes swept shut again.

  Those incredible eyes opened for a few more seconds before drifting closed. “Maddie…” she whispered hoarsely.

  Rosita burst into tears, but Boone ignored her in his haste to grab the smelling salts again. Christina jerked reflexively, then inhaled a shuddering breath, but dozed off again immediately.

  “I think she’ll be okay,” Boone predicted as he ran his hand over her concave belly. “My guess is that she’s about half-starved. If we can get her to wake up long enough to get food and water down her she should come around quickly.”

  Rosita snapped up her head, wiped her eyes and scurried off to fetch food and drink.

  Jonah watched in wry amusement as Boone grabbed a wet cloth to cleanse the girl’s face and neck. Hell, the Kiowa was a regular handmaiden when he needed to be. At the moment he didn’t appear to be a tough, hard-bitten half-breed. If this was any indication of what a female could do to a man, Jonah didn’t know what was.

  “Since you have things under control I’m going to track Maddie before she gets herself in trouble,” he said.

  “If you were going to prevent her from doing that you probably should’ve left two hours ago,” Boone said, never taking his eyes off Christina. “You think she went after Avery?”

  “Don’t doubt it for a minute,” Jonah muttered as he turned on his heels. He hoped Maddie hadn’t fouled up this investigation by striking off to portray the avenging angel of justice. If she had, he was going to rake her over live coals—provided she hadn’t gotten herself killed already.

  The unnerving thought caused Jonah to
grimace as he mounted up and nudged his steed to a gallop. If Avery Hanson harmed one hair on Maddie’s golden head he wouldn’t survive the night. That was one promise Jonah vowed to keep.

  Maddie braced herself against the foyer wall and sucked in a steadying breath. When a movement in the shadows caught her attention she swung her pistol into shooting position. The Chinese housekeeper squawked in surprise, spun around, then dashed back in the direction he’d come.

  This was not good, Maddie thought as she scurried toward the dining room. Chiang Ti could attest to the fact that she was in the house, and she didn’t want to have to explain what she was doing here—especially not now!

  Frantic, Maddie burst through the back door with more speed than caution and ran smack-dab into an unyielding obstacle. When the man—she assumed it was Chiang Ti—grabbed hold of her she swung her pistol wildly, hoping to stun her captor so she could escape.

  “Ouch, damn it! Gimme that thing before you crack my skull open with it!”

  Maddie half collapsed in relief when she recognized Jonah’s scolding voice and felt him jerk the pistol from her fingertips. She peered over her shoulder to note the annoyed frown that puckered his brow. Well, too bad. She wasn’t all that happy with him right now, either.

  “Is Christina okay?” Her voice evaporated when Jonah suddenly shoved her back against the side of the house and covered her body protectively with his. Only then did Maddie hear the scrabbling noise and look west to see someone clawing his way up the side of the craggy cliff.

  “Is that Avery?” Jonah growled against her ear.

  “No, I suspect it’s Chiang Ti, the cook and housekeeper,” Maddie wheezed. “I must have scared him half to death when I pointed my pistol at him. Is Christina all right?” she asked in the same breath.

  “She’ll be fine. Sedated heavily and undernourished but alive,” Jonah reported. “Boone and Rosita are tending her. Now tell me why you scared the cook.”