Give Me A Texas Ranger

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  He didn’t mean to, but he found himself lookin’ her up and down before settling his gaze back on her face. Even her fiery, dark sapphire eyes added to his vision…black mane and tail.

  Hell, if he thought the woman was prettier than a bay mare, surely he wasn’t totally made of stone. A slow blaze ignited in his belly, just watching her.

  As though reading his thoughts, her eyes flashed with fury.

  The look left no question in his mind what he needed to do. Get to Molly Lou’s, pick up his warrant, and present it to the sheriff. Then after he investigated the facts, he’d figure out what to do with the woman. That should take an hour, tops, then he could get cleaned up, and feed and water Stewball.

  The marriage ruse would be over, and he could be on his way to headquarters.

  A simple plan. Probably too simple.

  A nondescript gentleman who Hayden had noticed hanging around for a while, stepped up on the courthouse porch and halted in front of Ella, Hayden, and the few folks who’d stayed, waitin’ in the shade.

  “Miss Stevenson—uh, Mrs. McGraw.” He hesitated. “Uh, I’m Wilson Scott, Newman County JP. This won’t take long. Reckon we gotta get the formalities out of the way.” He opened a black ledger. “If you’ll both sign here, then all I’ll need is the fee, and your union will be duly recorded as required by law.” He smiled meekly.

  Mortification hit Ella’s face, and she peered up at Hayden. He stiffened, knowing his expression wasn’t any better.

  “Can’t this wait? The missus and I are tired and hungry. And I want to clear up the matter of the warrant.”

  “No, sir.” The JP stood his ground.

  “Nope, Ranger. This needs tending to…now!” Sheriff Oldham interjected.

  “Gotcha fee right here.” Dixie pulled a stringed bag from between her breasts and began counting out coins.

  “Twenty minutes, Ranger, and the clock’s tickin’,” Sheriff Oldham reminded him.

  Twenty minutes!

  Reluctantly, Hayden signed his name to the ledger.

  Ella folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot, resisting the JP’s demands. As if it were Hayden’s fault, she furrowed her brow and sent him a go to blue blazes look, which scathed all the way to his toes and back again.

  “It’s them or me.” Hayden nodded toward the sheriff and Baldy, who now held the noose.

  Almost knocking the JP off the porch, she seized the ledger. In an exquisite script, Ella scrolled her name across the paper. She shared her frown with Dixie as she handed over the fee.

  Dixie raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders. “Should I let them hang you?”

  Not waiting for a response, Dixie joined Audrey Jo and they strolled toward the bridge that crossed over the creek to Buffalo Wallow. They were nearly out of sight before Ella bound down the courthouse steps and began her march after them.

  As much as Hayden would have preferred to ride, he couldn’t take the chance of letting the spirited woman out of his sight even for a minute, so he followed her, presuming she would lead him to Molly Lou’s sooner or later. At the moment, he’d put money on later.

  Ella didn’t want to look back at the sheriff or Baldy, but the overweight lawman was probably already passed out on a cot in his office, and the bossy bald guy was likely trying to find more trouble to stir up.

  Struggling to capture her composure, she attempted to sort through things. What would make a total stranger, a Texas Ranger none-the-less, come to her rescue? As they walked along, a smidge of her anger evaporated, leaving more uncertainty than anything else. Her mind swirled with doubts, a mixture of hope and fear. Something was fishy and didn’t sit well with her. But she had to make sure he knew what she thought. She’d never held her tongue in check, and didn’t plan on starting now. She didn’t need him, or any man for that matter, riding into town to rescue her.

  Ella turned so quickly she almost ran into the man following her. “You’re a flannelmouthed bushwhacker, Hayden McGraw.” She stirred up dust as she kicked one pebble then another out of her way, before whirling around and heading down the middle of the street. She shot over her shoulder, “And one in need of a bath and shave too.”

  “And a good meal.” He pulled up alongside her. “Puddin’ Cake, you oughta be glad you’re not hangin’ from that damn cottonwood instead of being watered off at me.” He walked faster, making her take two steps to his one. “I hope you weren’t kiddin’ about your place only being half a mile away,” he stated.

  “I don’t know what you plan to find there.”

  “You hold some mail for certain folks, don’t you?”

  “You know we do, Ranger.” She kicked another stone. “Talk to Muley—he knows who he’s holding mail for.” Another stone flew. “And, before you ask, I don’t give a rusty rat’s ass who it belongs to.”

  Storming ahead, she slowed when she neared her saloon. Piano music and laughter came from inside. She stopped in her tracks. Hell’s bells and cockleshells, she’d forgotten all about the horse she’d been tending to before she struck out for the meeting in Buffalo Springs. Someone had tethered him to a post on the side of the saloon near the water trough.

  “What in the hell!” Hayden came to such a sudden stop, dust whirled around his boots. He turned to her and roared, “You are a horse thief!”

  After she summoned up all the courage she could, she plopped her hands on her hips. “I sure as hell am not.”

  “Tell me the truth!” A warning cloud settled across his brow. “What’s my horse doing all the way down here…at your place? I’m in no mood to mess with you, either.”

  How dare him! She pressed her lips together, trying to corral her unruly feelings. She’d already figured one thing out about the surly man. His stubbornness made it impossible for him to consider another’s viewpoint.

  Determined to outwait his anger, if that was possible, she set her jaw and knitted her brows together.

  “He didn’t tether himself.” Hayden quirked a questioning brow at her.

  Double-dog damn him. As a matter of principle, she’d not tell him a thing. After all, it was his horse that had wandered onto her property and eaten her carrots. She didn’t know the ugly critter belonged to the man. How would she know? The brand wasn’t familiar to her. In truth, she’d simply forgotten about the gelding. A little thing like being hanged had occupied her mind.

  Nope, not one blasted explanation to him until he changed his attitude toward her.

  The look on his face and the star on his chest made her rethink her stance. He didn’t appear to be a man who could be pushed and not fight back. “I found him. That is the truth! I’ve never, ever stolen so much as a pickle from the mercantile, much less an animal.”

  “If that’s the best you can come up with, I’ll turn you back over to the local law, and you can fend for yourself, Little Woman.”

  She bristled at the curtness. He could call her all the cute, insincere names he wanted, but not refer to her as a “little woman.”

  Ella flexed her fist. They couldn’t hang her twice, could they?

  Just about the time she tossed the foolish impulse aside, the devil tempted her bad—real bad. She reared back and, with a crack that could probably be heard all the way to Mobeetie, whacked the lawman across his cheek. “I’d rather be hanged than to be a ‘little woman’ to a man…particularly a Texas Ranger.”

  “Ma’am, I’m fixin’ to give you your druthers.”

  Chapter 5

  As though she’d simply given Hayden a peck on the cheek, Ella straightened her back. Scared to look at him, she focused on the strange-lookin’ horse nibbling on the grass in her yard.

  Horse thief!

  Hanging!

  Ugly horse!

  Realization slammed her between the eyes. She had been accused of stealing a Ranger’s horse. Not only had she slapped the daylights out of Hayden, but now he had no reason to believe anything she said.

  She gulped and tried to gather her wits. Slo
wly she turned to face the Ranger, who was within spittin’ distance of the gelding.

  Ella crossed her wrists in front of her, signaling defeat. That’d make it easier for him to handcuff her before carting her off to jail.

  “Put your hands down,” Hayden growled, and began checking on the gash in his horse’s foreleg. “You’re already in my custody.”

  “I, uh, I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” A frown clouded his face as he continued to examine the gelding. “I’ve been hit harder by a mesquite branch though.”

  “Can we start over?” She offered him her right hand in a friendly gesture. “Hi, I’m Patience Stevenson, but I prefer Ella.”

  Hayden wasn’t about to accept her apology without plenty of grappling first. If he hadn’t been so exasperated with the woman, he might have found her approach humorous. He didn’t take kindly to the idea of “starting over.” Not to mention, he wouldn’t be around long enough to start anything over.

  Then there was the issue of Ella being responsible for the kettle of fish she’d gotten herself into. Slapping the living tar out of him didn’t help his attitude toward her an iota; although he had to admit he might, just might, have deserved it. She’d made her dislike for being called a “little woman” clear, and he’d chosen to ignore it.

  Damn, the lady’s sheer presence disturbed him in ways he’d almost forgotten existed. He didn’t want to take the chance to feel the things in his heart that he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden for so long. A slow burn settled below his belt. He wouldn’t give in to being human. He was a Ranger first and a man second.

  Hayden looked up. Searching her face, he forced back a smile.

  She stood with crossed arms, foot tapping.

  “What happened to Stewball?” He realized he was being a tad short with her, but time wasn’t on his side.

  Hayden untied the bandana from his neck and used it to wipe off a layer of dirt and pieces of grass that had stuck to a light film of ointment. On closer inspection, the wound seemed minor. “You doctor him?” Hayden asked.

  “Yes. I found him near my backdoor, eating carrots. The knife I used to dig them with was on the ground, so I figured he’d knocked it off and cut his leg.” She patted the horse between his ears when he nudged her hand. “I fixed him up the best I knew how.” She looked up and boldly met his gaze. Sincerity played in her eyes. “I didn’t steal your horse, Ranger.”

  “I believe you.” Hayden wiped his palms before stuffing the bandana in his pocket. “Who in their right mind would steal such a hammerhead?” His attempt at humor failed miserably, as did the smile he tried on. “Thank you for carin’ for him.” Extending his hand, he added, “I’m Hayden Charles McGraw.”

  She accepted the gesture meant as friendship. He still wasn’t all that sure about the “starting over” idea. In his estimation, they had to begin and finish before starting over, but it felt good to hold her hand. It was strong, and not all soft like he’d expected. The woman was used to hard work. Something he admired.

  For a wild, startling moment again she stirred things inside of him…feelings he’d just reminded himself didn’t need awakening. He didn’t want to let her hand go.

  “Ranger McGraw.” Dixie busted out the backdoor, waving an envelope. “This whatcha waitin’ for?”

  Hayden met the woman halfway. He accepted the parcel and impatiently tore it open.

  Only a single sheet of paper.

  His replacement Warrant of Authority. Nothing else.

  Although it was a slim possibility, he thought maybe his captain had sent him his new assignment. Damn his hide. Surely enough time had passed to where he’d let Hayden back in his good graces.

  “That’s one fine-lookin’ horse.” Dixie stopped to admire Stewball. “Your gear’s over by the shed.” She pointed toward a wooden structure a hundred yards away beside the bank of a fast-running stream. Made of an odd assortment of materials, the building leaned precariously downhill.

  “Thanks. Guess I’d best get this back to Sheriff Oldham.” He folded the paper, pleased that he hadn’t called the ol’ toad something profane. “No need to put unnecessary weight on Stewball’s leg right now. Care if I leave him here until I get this warrant delivered?”

  Ella nodded an okay.

  “I’ll be back directly.” He headed up the road leading to Buffalo Springs. Suddenly he stopped and turned, catching Ella’s eye. He tipped his hat and said, “Thanks again, Patience Eleanor Stevenson.”

  “Supper at seven,” Ella said, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t expect carrots.”

  Whistling, the Ranger turned and walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Ella watched Hayden until he crossed the bridge. Her heart told her that he’d not be back for supper or anything else.

  A few minutes later, after washing up and changing clothes, Ella stood in the middle of her tiny kitchen area off the saloon. She had piled her long tresses on top of her head and secured them with one of her mother’s delicate wooden combs. At least her neck felt cool.

  The laughter and merrymaking from the saloon bled through the thin walls. Generally that would make Ella smile, but not today.

  A lot had happened in a short period of time. She picked up one of her mother’s aprons hanging on a hook. She ran her fingers over the familiar flour-sack fabric, settling on a red embroidered heart on the yoke. She found herself caressing the motif and thinking about her mama. Sometimes she missed her incessant mothering. Ella thought back on how she had resisted her mother’s sage advice, which sometimes resembled orders. She sure could use some maternal nurturing at the moment.

  She pulled the apron on and tied it behind her, then sat down at the kitchen table.

  Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes. She put her face in her hands and let them flow. Something she never did.

  Ella hated showing weakness of any sort, yet she’d let a good-lookin’ man turn her head. There should be no shame in not being strong, but that wasn’t what her mama taught her. Strength is character. Without it, she’d be nothing. Yet she had allowed herself to show emotions, be vulnerable and exposed, which equated to weakness. Ella had reacted without considering the consequences. Had she gone mad? Yes, showing her emotions was a weakness and it had never been acceptable…not yesterday, not today, and not tomorrow.

  Taking a deep breath, she brushed away the tears and rose to her feet. Maybe she had simply responded humanly to an ugly situation.

  Besides, it wasn’t every day a woman could speak her mind to a mob at a snobby town-hall meeting, nearly be hanged, and get married to a confounded Texas Ranger.

  But she wouldn’t have to worry about the lawman much longer. After today he’d be gone. She saw it in his eyes. Every man she’d ever known had let her down, so why should she trust Hayden? What made her think he was any different? Yet there was something about him. A shared attraction. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  It was only mid-afternoon, too early to begin supper. Another chorus of hoots and loud laughter seeped through the cracks in the wall. Probably a joke or maybe a winning hand of poker. Hilarity was always plentiful in the saloon.

  Unless there was a problem she wouldn’t see Dixie or Audrey Jo until suppertime, when they’d each come eat a bite and then get back to serving drinks and smiles to customers.

  Emotionally drained, yet with a business to take care of, Ella tried to clean out the fickle cobwebs in her mind, not to mention the visions of Hayden.

  Tomorrow was supply day. The drummer, Willard Porter, would arrive shortly after dawn, so she didn’t have the luxury to wait until later to gather her order. No time for daydreams.

  Ella opened the pie safe and counted the bear claws. She needed to bake more before morning so she’d have enough to barter sufficient lard and flour for the next batch. She scanned the Mason jars lined up side by side and made a mental note. Twenty-four, all apple jelly. That would bring enough to
pay for any fruit in season that Willard found between Mobeetie and Wagon Mound, New Mexico. She pulled a notebook from the top of the cabinet, and added paraffin, sugar, and cornmeal to her list.

  Without the liquor order, mostly whiskey, which Muley and Dixie took care of, Ella might come out with enough extra money from the marmalades and pastries to put aside a little bit for something special for herself. Maybe a brand-spankin’-new dress. Her current wardrobe consisted of the pink one she’d just taken off and hung to air out, and the pitiful, faded calico on her back.

  Ella sighed. Most likely there’d be no extra money by the time Willard and Muley bartered things out. There seemed to always be more on her “needs” list than she could keep up with by making jams and jellies and baking.

  The day was running long, and the room was getting hotter by the minute. The smell of simmering beans hung in the air. She pulled an iron skillet off a nail beside the cupboard, and opened the cornmeal canister. Less than one cup. Then she recalled the last time she filled the can and thinking how quickly the cornmeal was vanishing. For all she knew, Muley might be putting it on the floor instead of sawdust.

  Even less sugar in its container.

  The door opened and Dixie fluttered in, carrying a napkin-lined basket.

  “Is everything okay out there?” Ella put on a smile, and replaced the skillet. “What’s that?”

  “Sourdough biscuits. They’re having a rip-snortin’ good time. You’re the talk of the town,” Dixie said.

  “Nearly being hanged gave the gossipmongers plenty of fodder, huh?”

  “Nope. Lots of folks were makin’ bets that your Texas Ranger wouldn’t let you down. I think some even made money off him.” She giggled. “Nope. None of that. It’s how you stood up for other folks’ rights that’s got their gums aflappin’.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The saloon is filled to the brim. We got more business than anybody else in town. They all said they want to buy beer from somebody who didn’t mind setting the hypocrites of Buffalo Springs straight.” Dixie set the basket down. “Don’t fix supper tonight. Ladies brought in some chicken and dumplin’s, even corn dodgers and two pans of apple brown betty to show their appreciation for standing up for them. Give me your word you won’t tell anybody, but a couple of ol’ biddies from Buffalo Springs brought food, and I think one was the sheriff’s missus.” Dixie wiped her hands on a tea towel. “It’s about like a church social. Not that I’ve been to many. There’s enough food for everyone, even the customers. Come see it for yourself.”