Carol Finch

by The Ranger's Woman

  Quinn scolded himself harshly when he felt himself melting beneath her radiant smile, which made her unique eyes sparkle like starlight. Damn it, he didn’t want to be distracted or affected by this female that he was obligated to drag along with him. He predicted she was going to wilt like a delicate rose after scrabbling over this rough terrain for hours on end. Then what was he going to do with her?

  Face it, Callahan. You are responsible for her welfare whether you like it or not.

  Which he definitely did not.

  He would have liked to think that she might have made the long jaunt to the next stage station without mishap. That was wishful thinking and he wouldn’t want to bet her life on it, nuisance though she was to him.

  Resigned to traveling at a slower pace to accommodate Piper, Quinn aimed his horse in the direction of the site where the robbery had occurred. He didn’t hear a peep out of Piper, thank goodness, when he picked up the pace to compensate for lost time.

  Commander Scott Butler hunkered over his desk at Ranger headquarters in Austin and frowned pensively at the telegram Lieutenant Cooper had handed to him. “Kidnapped female,” he murmured. “Age twenty. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Likely traveling by train or stage.” He glanced up at the lieutenant. “That’s not much to go on.”

  “No, sir,” Vance Cooper agreed. “All we know is that the girl’s father thinks her abductor might be headed to the Fort Davis area. But there is no explanation as to who might have absconded with her and why.”

  “We have a battalion working out of Van Horn that might be able to begin a search,” Butler commented, then frowned when he recognized the name of the man whose daughter was reported missing. “Good God! Sullivan? No doubt, the girl is being held for ransom and Roarke will be expected to spend half his fortune, in hopes of getting his child back.”

  “Sullivan, sir?” Vance Cooper repeated.

  Butler nodded. “Extremely wealthy merchant from Galveston. Owns half the businesses in town and controls a freighting company that ships all over the world.” He frowned pensively. “We’ll start by requesting information at stage stations to find out if a woman was on board that matches this description.”

  “We have Callahan in the field,” Cooper prompted. “He has been riding the stage back and forth between Fort Stockton and El Paso for two weeks, trying to locate the criminals that have been plaguing the area. Too bad we can’t get word to him. He’s the best tracker we’ve got.”

  Commander Butler readily agreed with that. He had worked with his share of frontier fighters during his thirty-four years of service with the Rangers. There were several standouts in the rare breed of men who policed this wild country. Quinn Callahan headed up that list. He was tough, resilient, intelligent—and about as affable as a grizzly.

  Butler smiled wryly. Cal was a lone wolf who wasn’t much for small talk and lacked polished social graces, but he was hell on outlaws. Cal had kept to himself until Taylor Briggs had befriended him and refused to be held at arm’s length.

  Honest to God, Butler never had figured out why two men who hailed from completely different walks of life had become as close as brothers. Taylor could have talked your leg off if you let him and Cal barely gave you the time of day unless it was important that you knew it.

  Damn shame about Taylor Briggs, he mused. The man had been a credit to his battalion—until he had tried to follow Cal’s practice of venturing off on his own to scout and track the desperadoes that had been robbing stages, banks and plundering ranches in southwest Texas.

  “Have you received more information about the outlaws who decided to call themselves the Knights of the Golden Circle?” Butler questioned.

  Cooper nodded his auburn head, his countenance grim. “The news isn’t good, sir. One of our men has been interrogating a suspected member who has been jailed in San Antone. According to the report, the Knights aren’t simply looting and plundering for personal gain. This outbreak of thievery is bait for a trap.”

  Butler’s thick brows flattened. “What kind of trap?”

  “Word is that a band of Mexicans have recently joined up with the Knights to sell stolen livestock over the border. The outlaws even disguise themselves as renegade Indians and depredate the frontier.”

  “Well, hell,” Butler muttered.

  “According to our informant, the plot is designed to draw the attention of our Ranger battalions,” Cooper continued. “The gang leaders are bent on revenge and they intend to kill as many of our men as possible because we have been making their lives miserable and arresting members of their group.”

  When Cooper hesitated, Butler glanced up and scowled. “It gets worse?”

  Cooper expelled an audible sigh. “We also have reason to believe that this organized ring is trying to bribe Rangers as informants and destroy our battalions from inside out.”

  Butler swore foully. “If there is one thing I can’t tolerate it’s a traitor among our ranks. I have seen a few Rangers go bad in my day and I have taken particular pleasure in punishing every Judas that betrays the frontier justice system for personal gain.”

  He pushed away from the desk and came to his feet. “Contact the battalion in San Antone and tell them to put the squeeze on our informant and convince him that he will be protected if he starts naming names.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cooper gestured toward the telegram lying on the commander’s desk. “Do you want to send out a troop to search for this high profile kidnap victim?”

  Butler shook his head. “I plan to oversee this request personally because the region where the woman might have been taken is the same area Callahan is working. That place is a hotbed of trouble. We might be able to provide reinforcements for Cal, if he is able to locate the outlaws’ stronghold. We can investigate the woman’s kidnapping at the same time.”

  He glanced curiously at Vance. “Were you able to pass along the possibility of a death trap when you were in communication with Cal?”

  “No, the telegram from our Ranger unit in San Antone arrived only an hour ago.” Cooper came to attention. “Sir, I would like to volunteer for duty. I would bet my last dollar that Quinn Callahan gets some results. I would like to be on hand when we go up against those desperadoes.”

  Butler nodded agreeably. “I’ll ask for four more volunteers and we’ll ride out immediately. If Cal can sniff them out then we’re going to let loose with all the firepower we can throw at those cutthroats.” He stared solemnly at Cooper. “And it won’t just be in the name of Texas justice. This will be for Taylor Briggs as well.”

  Chapter Five

  When Quinn reached the site of the robbery he was relieved to note the driver and guard weren’t lying in pools of their own blood. Apparently the two men had decided to hike the shorter distance to the stage station that sat on the east side of the mountains.

  Quinn veered off the trodden path to follow the narrow trail that he had seen one group of desperadoes take when they made their getaway. He predicted he would find evidence that the outlaws had joined forces along this route. As anticipated, he noticed a menagerie of hoofprints coming and going along the trail.

  “I’m curious about the combination of your style of clothing,” Piper remarked as he led the way up a steep incline. “Any particular reason for it?”

  He didn’t bother to glance back at her. No need to torment himself more than necessary. She was too attractive and he wanted to consider her no more than an unwanted companion. Whatever else happened during this assignment, Quinn promised himself that he was not going to be physically or emotionally involved with this woman.

  She was an inconvenience that would cause him frustrating delays and that was all she was to him.

  “Well?” she prompted when he didn’t respond immediately. “Aren’t you going to speak to me unless you’re spouting orders that I am to obey without question?”

  “I told you that I’m not long on chitchat,” he replied. “And yes, there’s a reason for this style of clothing. This is wh
o I am.”

  “Just who are you?” she asked interestedly. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  Not many people did, Quinn mused. But then, most folks weren’t interested in getting to know him, just steered clear of him unless they required his fighting skills for protection. But she dared to dig deeper than surface appearances. He should have known this female was inquisitive. That mind of hers seemed to be buzzing constantly.

  “I was captured by Kiowas when I was twelve,” he confided. “I had to adapt to their style of dress because I had nothing else to wear.”

  Why am I telling her this? he wondered. Maybe because she was one of the few who had ever bothered to ask.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been a terrifying experience for a child.”

  “It was no picnic, believe me,” he muttered, then tamped down the bitter memories that he had buried beneath layers of ruthless self-discipline. “I hated the Kiowas for killing my father when he tried to protect me. I hated them even more after I tried to escape their camp and they staked me out to a tree for a week to punish me and to make certain I didn’t repeat the attempt.”

  Piper grimaced. She couldn’t begin to imagine the emotional turmoil Quinn had undergone as an impressionable child. The fact that the warriors who had taken his father’s life had become his keepers must have left him outraged, defiant and battling inner conflicts. How had he coped with the tragedy?

  She thought she knew the answer to that question. He had buried the anger and grief deep inside him. But it was still there. She could hear it in his gritty voice. But she also knew that he was a master at concealing his emotions because she had seen him do it several times during their short acquaintance.

  There had been times when his face had gone carefully blank and she had wondered if he felt any emotion at all. But it was there, simmering in places that he refused to reveal to the world.

  “How did you escape from the Kiowa camp?” she asked curiously.

  “I didn’t. When I was fourteen they traded me to a Comanche shaman who wanted an interpreter while he and the chieftains were conducting powwows with the army. Since I spoke English, Spanish and the dialects of both tribes they needed me as a go-between.”

  Piper clamped her legs tightly to the horse’s flanks as they veered through a narrow passage that opened to a sheer drop—exactly like the one she had found herself dangling over a few hours earlier.

  When anxiety threatened to swamp her she closed her eyes and concentrated on carrying on her conversation with Quinn. “What were you supposed to interpret for the shaman and Comanche chiefs?” she asked, her voice wobbling noticeably.

  “Worthless peace treaties,” Quinn said, and snorted.

  “The Comanche broke their promises?”

  “No, the government did,” he said. “The army sent a strike force to our winter encampment in the Sierra Diablo Mountains north of here. They practically annihilated the clan I was living with. Those who survived were rounded up and herded like cattle to Indian Territory.”

  Piper grimaced. This tale just kept getting worse. She felt ashamed of herself for harboring ill feelings toward her domineering father. They seemed trite and insignificant compared to the tragedy Quinn endured. Her trials and struggle for individuality hadn’t been life-altering nightmares like Quinn’s had been.

  She doubted a hard-bitten man who had obviously built walls around his emotions would want her sympathy and compassion, but he had it, all the same.

  “Anything else you think you need to know about me?” he asked flippantly.

  “Yes.” She was thoroughly intrigued with the story of his life, even though it was obvious that he was reluctant to discuss it. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why he had confided in her. But she was glad he had. It helped her understand why he was the way he was. “Did the army take you back to your kinfolk after their attack on the winter encampment?”

  The question earned her a disgruntled snort. “They tried, but by then it had been seven years since my abduction. I had been thoroughly indoctrinated into the ways of the Kiowa and Comanche. My mother had died from complications of childbirth and I had no family left in Texas. But that didn’t stop the army from taking me to San Antonio with their returning patrol.”

  She glanced up to note that his broad shoulders had stiffened and he sat rigidly on his horse. No doubt, whatever he was about to impart had not been a pleasant experience.

  “When we rode into town, the whites mistook me for a half-breed prisoner. I found myself subjected to their curses and ridicule. Even when the lieutenant in command declared that I had been a captive, my own culture wanted nothing to do with me. According to the sneers and jeers, I had lived with the savages for so long that I was one of them.”

  Piper retracted every derogatory thought and comment she had made about him.

  If he held a grudge against the world she figured he had every right to.

  Her heart went out to Quinn, knowing his life had been one traumatic adjustment after another. Considering the way he had been treated in Indian and white cultures it was a wonder to Piper that he had allowed her to join up with him temporarily.

  She imagined that he preferred to be alone and that he avoided civilization as much as possible. It also astonished her that he was out to save the world from brutal lawlessness when the world treated him like a social pariah.

  “I enlisted with the Rangers after two years of serving as a guide for the army,” he added belatedly. “With the Rangers, my worth and respectability is measured by my ability to handle myself in difficult situations. My past doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I can hold my own in the middle of a firefight…watch your head.”

  The warning was a split second too late. Piper looked up—and rammed her forehead into the low outcropping of rock. The blow sent her reeling backward, startling her horse. When her mount tried to bolt past Quinn’s horse on the one-lane trail she pinwheeled sideways, scraping her hip and shoulder before she landed in a tangled heap.

  Stars exploded in front of her eyes and an instant headache pounded against her skull. The pup bounded up to lick her cheeks, but Piper pushed him away so she could prop herself upright and check herself for serious injury.

  “You okay?” Quinn asked as he dismounted.

  “Not very.” Piper squinted against the pain as he hunkered down in front of her. His somber expression didn’t give much away and she wondered if he even cared if she had very nearly knocked herself senseless and scraped a layer of skin off her hip, elbow and shoulder.

  But at least he didn’t say I told you so. For that she was grateful. He simply appraised the knot that she could feel swelling up on her forehead.

  “My fault for not paying attention to where I was going,” she murmured as she tried to gain her feet. Unfortunately, dizziness left her so wobbly that she had to brace her hand against the rough rock wall and sink back to her knees.

  His hand clamped around her forearm to hoist her onto shaky legs. When they threatened to fold up beneath her Quinn slid his arm around her waist to support her. “You better ride with me until you get your bearings.”

  Piper was all in favor of that, particularly since she wasn’t sure she could react quickly enough if she had to duck under another low-hanging shelf of rock. Plus, if she passed out she might keel over the ledge. She didn’t want to risk that possibility again.

  “Not much of a rider, I’d guess,” he said as he shepherded her back to his horse.

  “Unfortunately, no. My father insisted that proper ladies didn’t need to know how to ride because we were supposed to be driven in the comfort of a carriage.” She smiled impishly. “My sister and I did sneak off several times to ride horseback, but not as often as we would have liked to.”

  Quinn set her carefully on his horse then looked her over closely before he pulled himself up behind her. Her face was peaked and the knot on her head reminded him of a goose egg. Also, it hadn’t taken him but a few minutes to realize that
she was having difficulty riding bareback.

  He could spot a tenderfoot a mile away and that’s what she was. Stunningly attractive and spirited—and so far out of her element that it was laughable.

  Just what he needed while tracking a gang of cutthroats, he mused sourly. The men responsible for his friend’s death were miles ahead of him and here he was, playing bodyguard and nursemaid to a woman who didn’t know beans about surviving in the wilderness. Con artist though she probably was, she was accustomed to moving in society, not battling inclement weather and unexpected dangers of the wilderness.

  His thoughts flitted off when Piper settled herself more comfortably in front of him. Her shapely derriere wedged against his crotch and her thighs brushed the inside of his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest and he had to grit his teeth against the jolt of pleasure that her nearness evoked.

  He resented the fact that the feel of her body gliding rhythmically against his got him all stirred up. He was on an important assignment, damn it. He was also trying to keep the promise Taylor Briggs had demanded with his last breath.

  Get those sonsabitches for me, Cal. Every last one of ’em. Promise me that, Taylor had gasped before he collapsed, a victim of ambush.

  Quinn had made a solemn vow that day. Now he was burdened with the prettiest female he had ever laid eyes on and she was the worst distraction he had ever encountered. Period.

  “Is there some place I can get a drink?” she asked with a seesaw breath. “I don’t feel well at all.”

  “Right. Sure,” he grumbled.

  The nearest watering hole was Sunset Springs. It was located about five miles out of the way, down the side of the mountain. While he catered to the needs of his injured companion—who felt so damn good nestled against him that it was making him crazy—the outlaws’ trail was getting colder by the minute.

  Hell’s bells, could anything else go wrong with this assignment? Quinn knew better than to send that question winging heavenward, for fear it would sound like a challenge. He had plenty of those to deal with already.