Wanted

by Potter, Patricia;

  Which was why he’d had to chain them last night, no matter how hard it was, no matter how Lori had looked at him as his hand had rested on her wrist before locking the bracelet around it. Just as he had been able to do that, she was capable of knocking him unconscious or seizing a gun while he slept. He knew that. She had declared as much.

  He could help Nick Braden. Goddammit, he would help him, whether he wanted Morgan’s aid or not. Morgan had already decided to take Braden to Ranger headquarters and hold him there until Morgan could prove what really happened in Harmony. He would have the backing of his captain and the judge. He always had.

  But he knew he couldn’t convince the Bradens of that. He didn’t even know how. He’d never had to explain his actions or motives or intentions before. He believed in absolutes. Trust was trust. It was there, or it wasn’t, and words wouldn’t change that. He had hoped to gain Lori’s last night, but he had only deepened her distrust. Hers and her brother’s.

  And Beth Andrews’s. She had looked at Morgan in horror last night when he had ironed Nick Braden, and then his sister, to a tree.

  “He’s sick,” she had exclaimed.

  But Morgan knew Braden, as he knew himself. A knife wound wouldn’t stop him, not if he had an opportunity.

  Hellfire, the only creature that looked at him with anything even remotely resembling tolerance was his horse and the damned pig, and the latter, he thought with dry humor, didn’t know any better. The horse, he fed.

  Lori could have stood anything but the sad, self-accusing look in Nick’s eyes. He knew what had happened, and he blamed it on himself. She had felt his wrath last night, had seen the tight compression of his lips each time he looked at her. He had glared at the Ranger, with killing rage. She had tried to talk to Nick when she thought the Ranger had gone to sleep, to tell him what Morgan Davis had said about helping.

  Nick had just looked at her, and she knew he neither believed the Ranger’s words nor was willing to accept his help, even if it had been offered. He thought she had sacrificed herself for him, and that the Ranger had used her. She didn’t know how to tell him the truth. That in those moments on the stream bank, she had forgotten that anything existed other than herself and Morgan Davis, and her gnawing hunger for him. The truth was a ball of misery in the pit of her stomach. She felt she had betrayed Nick even though she still believed that Morgan would try to help. She just didn’t believe he could. He was one man, a Ranger sworn to uphold the law, and the law in this case was ugly and twisted.

  Nick moved restlessly, and she leaned over and felt his forehead. It was warm, too warm for the chill that had come during the night. She took the blankets from herself and packed them around Nick.

  “Is he feverish?”

  She looked up. Beth Andrews had approached and was standing there, her pretty face marred with worry. She had spent hours with Nick the night before, spooning broth she had made from the rabbits.

  Lori nodded, feeling shame at being locked to her brother as if they were both criminals. But Mrs. Andrews seemed unaware. Or uncaring. She stooped down and put her own hand to Nick’s cheek. His eyes fluttered opened and fixed on her face. He tried to smile, but it was more a grimace, and Lori knew then how sick he was. Nick liked women, pure and simple. And she knew he would rather be flayed than show weakness in front of one. He was usually so strong and confident and full of blarney charm.

  Mrs. Andrews looked at the handcuffs binding the two of them, then at the leg irons that linked his right leg to a tree, and winced. “Mr. Davis?”

  Lori grimaced. “He left at dawn. He built a fire before he left, but it’s almost out now. He’ll … be back soon.”

  Mrs. Andrews’s soft blue eyes clouded as she obviously disapproved of what the Ranger had done, leaving the two of them chained when one was ill. “I’ll get some more firewood and heat some more broth,” she said. “We need to break the fever.”

  She gave Nick a lingering, concerned glance, and then she reluctantly turned away, returning in a minute with a full canteen. Nick’s eyes had closed again, and she handed it to Lori. “Get him to drink as much as he can.”

  Lori nodded. “Thank you.”

  The woman smiled. “Please call me Beth. Maggie and I both think of you as a friend now.”

  A rush of warm gratitude swept through her. She wondered whether Beth Andrews had noticed what her brother had noticed last night—that she and the Ranger had made love. Her face flushed at the thought.

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  “I wish I could do something about those handcuffs.…”

  Lori smiled halfheartedly. “I wish you could, too, but he keeps the keys on him.”

  “Why?”

  Lori knew the question wasn’t why he kept the keys on him, but why he had felt it necessary to handcuff her in the beginning. “Because I shot him,” Lori replied frankly. “He’s not sure I wouldn’t do it again.”

  Beth digested that piece of information slowly. Her eyes had a bit of a smile when she asked the obvious question. “Would you?”

  Lori looked up. “I don’t know.”

  Beth’s smile disappeared. “Because of … Nick?”

  So it was “Nick,” already.

  Lori nodded and looked at Nick, whose eyes had closed again. She didn’t know whether he was sleeping or feigning sleep.

  Beth’s expressive eyes softened; then she retreated quickly, as if embarrassed by the conversation. Lori watched as she gathered wood and fed the fire with competence. She was a pretty, slender woman, with a surprisingly determined competence about her despite those gentle blue eyes.

  Lori felt Nick’s cheek again. It seemed hotter—but, then, that was probably just because she was worried. She tugged at him, and he finally opened his eyes. Lori held the canteen to his mouth with her free hand. “I have orders to make you drink,” she said.

  Nick’s eyes were half-closed, as if he had to fight to keep them open. His free hand went to the canteen, effectively dismissing her assistance. “Where is …”

  He obviously hated even to mention his detested nemesis. Lori felt shame wash over her. “He left at dawn. To make sure no one’s following, I guess.” She had to look away from his steady gaze and tried to change the subject. “It was Beth who said you should drink.”

  When Morgan Davis returned, the smell of coffee was strong. He tied his horse away from the others. He took the rifle from its scabbard and unloaded it, putting the ammunition into the saddlebags and carrying those over to the tree where the rest of his gear remained. He then went over to Lori and Nick and, his gaze meeting hers with characteristic directness, unlocked the handcuffs holding the Bradens together. She noticed he was very careful not to touch her in doing so. He turned away abruptly, toward Nick, and put his hand to Nick’s fever-flushed face. Nick shied away, his eyes filling with anger.

  “He’s feverish,” Lori said. “We can’t leave this morning unless you want to kill him.”

  Morgan merely nodded, watching as she stretched stiffly, rubbing her wrist where the handcuff had created a red circle. “Let me see your wound,” he said curtly to Nick.

  Nick reluctantly unbuttoned his coat, and then his shirt, leaving the red-stained bandage exposed. The Ranger examined the area around it, obviously looking for signs of infection. His fingers explored and prodded, and he grunted, evidently satisfied.

  “We’ll stay here today. I’ll do some more hunting. I imagine some fresh meat would help.” He unlocked the iron band from Nick’s ankle, leaving him completely free. As free as the pain and fever allowed. It was a small concession, relatively risk free considering Nick’s weakness, but still, for Morgan Davis, a concession just the same.

  “Do you need …” The Ranger’s question was aimed at Nick, but he quickly glanced at Lori and snapped his mouth shut.

  Nick’s mouth tightened. “I don’t need help from you. I can manage on my own.”

  He tried to stand, leaned against a tree, took a few steps, then started
to fall. Morgan was there to catch him. “A few steps,” he said, “just lean on me for a few steps.”

  Lori realized he was trying to help Nick, to give him a few minutes of privacy, and she saw Nick struggling with the decision. It galled him to have to rely on the Ranger for even that short length of time. She moved away from both of them, knowing her presence merely exacerbated the tension between them.

  Nick hated the heaviness of his own body, the struggle it took to move. He’d hated having to lean on Davis, but his own personal needs had been too great to do otherwise. He’d somehow summoned the strength to shrug him off, but now he was paying the price for that independence. He hurt, and he was as weak as a day-old calf.

  Fury coursed through him every time he looked at Morgan, knowing that he had been with Lori last night. If Nick had had the strength, he would have killed him. He had seen the misery in Lori’s face, in the eyes that had refused to meet his. So unlike the Lori he knew. The Ranger’s face had been set in stone, as usual, when the two had returned last night, the air between them so charged that one would think they were in the midst of an electrical storm. He knew what had happened had been more than a kiss, like the one he’d interrupted before. There was new knowledge in Lori’s eyes that gave her away, even if the pine straw tucked among her hair and her mussed clothes had not.

  Nick didn’t blame her. She had been thrust into an emotion-filled situation. She was tired, she was exhausted, she was terrified for him. Lori would do anything to help him, she was that loyal, and that was why he had wanted her out of the way days ago. She was vulnerable to someone like Morgan Davis, who evidently had few scruples about taking advantage of the situation. He had even promised to “help,” Lori had told him.

  Nick almost vomited at the hypocrisy. Help send Nick to a hangman was more like it—so Davis wouldn’t have a “look-alike” on the wrong side of the law. If there had been any possibility that Nick might trust him, it had dissipated last night when he realized the man had seduced Lori, if not outright raped her.

  Why hadn’t he let that Ute kill Morgan?

  When he and Davis were out of the others’ sight, Nick jerked away from Morgan, then turned on him.

  “What do you want to stay away from Lori?” he demanded through gritted teeth. He cursed his weakness. He cursed the fact that it was all he could do to stand. “My word I won’t try to escape?”

  The Ranger just stood there. A muscle flexed in his cheek. “I don’t need it,” he said quietly.

  Nick felt as if he’d just been kicked in the stomach. “No,” he said bitterly. “You don’t need it.” He turned away and leaned against a tree to relieve himself, knowing if he didn’t, he might well fall.

  When he had finished, there was utter silence behind him. Nick had never felt so impotent. “What kind of bastard are you, anyway? What kind of man takes advantage of an innocent like Lori, who would do anything … God help me, to …?”

  Still silence. A painfully long silence. He turned back to face Davis again. The Ranger’s face was emotionless. “I don’t … know,” Morgan finally said in a toneless voice.

  Nick closed his eyes, still leaning against the tree. He wanted to curse the man several feet away from him, the man with his face. He wanted to beat him to a pulp, but cursing would do no good, and he was too weak to fight anyone. Nick slumped, weakened by the heat in his body as well as by the fierce anger that robbed him of what strength he had left. He had to stay alive, he had to get stronger. By God, he had to. He headed back toward the clearing, every footstep a mammoth effort, as if his feet were still encased in iron. Only too aware of the Ranger’s steps immediately behind him, he finally made the clearing and fell back onto his blankets. He expected the Ranger to lock the leg iron back on him, but he didn’t. Rather than feeling grateful, Nick only felt more humiliated, more mocked.

  I don’t need it, the Ranger had said. The only thing Nick had to bargain with, his compliance, had been thrown back in his face as worthless. It had been the most difficult offer he’d ever made—to bargain away all attempts to win his precious freedom to a man who had seduced his sister.

  He’d believed for a long time that only one of them would get to Texas—he or the Ranger. Now he didn’t care if neither reached its border.

  You’ll wish you took my offer, he promised the Ranger silently. I’ll take you to hell with me.

  His enemy stood above him, studying him with that same impassive expression he always wore. Only his eyes showed any kind of feeling, and only for a fraction of a second. Regret? Nick dismissed that notion almost immediately.

  But then the impression was gone, and he’d turned, moving over to the fire and returning with a cup of broth, handing it to Nick. Nick took the cup, knowing he needed the warmth, the liquid, to fight the fever, to regain his strength. He needed it to kill Morgan Davis, even if he died with him.

  He said as much with his eyes. The Ranger left his side and went to his horse. He took his rifle, then made his way through the woods silently until he was gone from sight.

  Nick’s horse was fifty feet away. It might as well have been a million. Even if he did manage to reach it, he wouldn’t be able to stay on it long.

  As usual, the chance the Ranger appeared to be taking was no chance at all.

  Beth had been watching from where she was tending the fire, her face twisted with confusion. She was staring at both men, and the intensity of that look drew Lori to look at them too. She had grown so used to the differences between them, that she had ceased to notice the similarity in their features. But now both men had several days’ growth of beard on their faces, and except for Morgan’s mustache, the resemblance was little more than amazing as they stood so closely together.

  “I’ve never seen two men look so much alike … except for some twins I knew once in Kansas City,” Beth said.

  Lori shook her head. “There is no connection,” she said. “There can’t be.… But that resemblance is one reason the Ranger came after Nick.”

  Beth checked the coffee on the fire, as well as a pot that had been one of the belongings she’d saved from the wagon. It was filled with water, evidently for Nick. “It’s … incredible.”

  Lori sat down on a log Beth had dragged close to the fire. “I know. I think the Ranger is older. He looks older. He said his parents were killed in an Indian attack in Texas at the time he was born. Nick was born in Colorado.” She hesitated. “And they’re nothing alike in other ways.”

  “Aren’t they?” Beth asked quietly.

  Lori stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Courage,” Beth said. “Strength of will. Your brother … I can’t imagine how or even why he rode so long yesterday without saying anything. And did you notice how they complemented each other when they fought? Their responses when the other was in danger? I thought then they must be … close. It was almost as if … they had fought together before, that they knew what the other would do.”

  Lori hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t seen it because she’d been terrified for them both. And she knew how much they disliked and distrusted one another. She stared at the two men, now disappearing among the trees. It couldn’t be, she thought. They couldn’t be blood related, not unless it was some crazy throwback to a common, long-ago ancestor. There was no way. She and Nick had gone over the possibility a dozen times when the Ranger was out of hearing.

  She shook her head of the notion that Beth had planted there. “It’s … just coincidence,” she said. “And they’re not alike. Nick enjoys life. He likes to laugh and tease, and he takes care of people. Morgan Davis … he … never smiles. He doesn’t know how to laugh. He hunts people. He doesn’t care about them.”

  “Doesn’t he?” Beth asked in that soft voice of hers, tipping her head to where the two men had vanished into the forest of pines.

  “No,” Lori said, aware of the emotion behind the word. She couldn’t let herself think that he did. She knew these extra days would give her family time to reach P
ueblo. And then what? What would happen to Morgan Davis then? And why did she now feel she was betraying him, as she felt she had Nick last night? Dear God, she was being torn apart. Her hand shook as she stuck several pieces of wood into the fire.

  Just then Maggie woke with a small cry, and Beth went over to her, leaving Lori alone to consider the other woman’s words, the comparisons she hadn’t considered before, hadn’t seen before. But she had seen others, those rare times when Nick had seemed so withdrawn, so alone, just like …

  No. It just wasn’t possible. Still, she felt spooked, and she knew she would now look for more comparisons. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see any. But the seed had been planted, and now it had to grow.

  What if the Ranger hadn’t grown up as he did, among hard men in hard country? What if Nick had grown up that way, instead? Would he still have that easy smile, that easygoing nature? What if Nick had suffered through four years of war? Would he too look older?

  Don’t think that way, she told herself. Don’t equate the two men, or you can’t do what must be done.

  Could she, in any event, take up arms against Morgan again? Even for Nick? She had become part of Morgan Davis last night when they’d made love. She could close her eyes and remember every sensation, every second her body and soul had closed around him and they had adventured together, sharing an exquisite journey. Her body quivered just remembering.

  Trust me, he’d said. But you couldn’t demand trust. Nor could she give it simply because she wanted to.

  Lori didn’t want to think anymore, couldn’t think without going crazy. So she turned her attention to the fire. The coffee was ready, and the broth was hot. She took both off the fire and set them aside, then found the frying pan and started biscuits. Beth had supplemented their supplies with baking soda and flour as well as potatoes and onions, and even some apples.