Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress

“No, it’s over,” she said in no uncertain terms.

He paused momentarily to look back at her. His gaze narrowed in a menacing frown. “You are going to regret your decision, Gabrielle. I promise you that.”

She silently wished him good riddance and a quick one-way trip to hell as he struck a confident pose, then swaggered down the street. Bri glanced at the pocket watch she held near and dear. She knew it was ill-advised to go gadding about after dark in this rowdy town, but she felt the need to walk off her frustration. Plus, she wanted to make arrangements at the livery to buy a reliable horse and tack for her journey. She decided to save the interviews for a prospective guide and the gathering of necessary supplies until the next morning.

Battling a tired yawn, Bri strode toward the livery stable, following behind a cluster of citizens that were moving down the boardwalk toward the theater. She didn’t want to isolate herself and risk being whisked off by the rougher element of society—like the two cretins she had encountered in the hotel hallway—while she was mentally distracted.

Bri glanced around, wondering if there was anyone else besides the rougher elements gallivanting at night in a town known as one of the toughest places this side of hell. Probably not. Except for the brawny stranger who kissed like nobody’s business and left her burning with forbidden desire.

After a refreshing bath and a short nap, Hud exited the hotel. He scowled sourly when he found himself glancing up and down the dark streets, trying to locate the mysterious woman in drab gray who had kissed him senseless then pulled her vanishing act without a word of explanation.

Whoever and wherever she was didn’t matter, he told himself sensibly. He had ventured out this evening to enjoy a drink and scratch the itch the mysterious kissing bandit provoked. Afterward, he’d swing by the stagecoach depot and inquire about the arrival of Commander Price’s spoiled daughter.

Too bad she didn’t have the good sense to stay in Austin where she belonged. She could have saved him this frustration. The thought of the prissy socialite and her politician of a fiancé spoiled Hud’s mood. He quickened his pace, planning to veer into the nearest saloon. To his dismay, guttural snarls caught his attention. He stopped short when two burly bodies, locked in a bear hug, slammed into the clapboard wall of a saloon. The men—one was a buffalo hunter and the other a cowboy, judging by their style of clothing—crashed across the boardwalk and rolled into the street. Their drunken oaths and vicious growls captured the attention of passersby. Patrons also spilled from the saloon to egg on the brawlers.

Hud glanced toward the marshal’s office that sat twenty yards from the fort’s guardhouse at the bottom of Government Hill. He sighed in exasperation when Marshal Long didn’t rush from the office to break up the fight. Well, hell, he thought. He’d had to separate drunken brawlers in hellholes like The Flat plenty of times. Apparently, tonight was no different.

When the two snarling men threw punches at each other, drew blood and turned the night air blue with foul curses, Hud grabbed the reins to the nearest horse. Then he walked the horse between the two downed men, forcing them to roll away or be stepped on. Their choice.

Disappointed that Hud had spoiled their entertainment, the saloon crowd wandered back to the bar.

“Who the hell do ya think you are?” the scraggly-haired hide hunter muttered as he straightened his buffalo vest and glowered at Hud.

“Yeah, mind yer own b’ness,” the cowboy slurred out as he blotted his bloody lip with his shirtsleeve.

“What’s going on here?”

Hud glanced over to see the marshal striding toward him. If Hud wasn’t mistaken, Calvin Long, the bandy-legged law officer whose birdlike facial features had earned him the nickname of Sparrow, had dressed hurriedly. His shirt was fastened unevenly and the top buttons on the placket of his breeches were gaping. Hud speculated the marshal had stopped in the red-light district while making his evening rounds.

Hud had been on his way to seek out the same diversion, especially after the mysterious female had started a fire in him with her scorching kisses.

Calvin Long cocked his head in a birdlike manner and studied Hud for a long moment. “Stone, isn’t it?”

Hud nodded.

“Wish you’d stop in more often. Since this town has grown to a population of two thousand, not counting the influx of hide hunters and cowboys who pass through here like blustery winds, I could use an extra hand keeping the lid on this place.”

“I’ll help you haul your rowdy friends to the calaboose,” Hud volunteered.

He grabbed the cowboy by the nape of the shirt and marched him toward the jail while the marshal ushered the greasy-haired buffalo hunter down the boardwalk.

“Damn cowpuncher,” the hide hunter scowled as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. “I saw her first. He had no cause to interfere with me.”

“You were fighting over a woman?” Hud asked as they approached the jail. “I haven’t met a woman who’s worth a gut punching or a split lip.”

“This goon was trying to drag the poor woman into the alley,” the cowboy muttered out the uninjured side of his mouth. “I was rescuing her from this ugly brute. I don’t belong in jail. He does!”

“Ha! You wanted her for yerself. But she was workin’ me over too good without yer interference.” The buffalo hunter readjusted his wooly cap then leaned heavily on Marshal Long for support. “She kicked me right square in the crotch when I latched on to her. Then she hit me with somethin’. Don’t know what but it set me off.” He hitched his thumb—which sported a dirty, jagged fingernail—toward the cowboy. “Then this cow-faced wrangler showed up to take her away from me.”

“I was defending her honor, you smelly bastard,” the cowboy sneered insultingly.

“She didn’t need no help. She took off down the alley like a gray blur and left me on my knees, tryin’ to catch my breath.”

Gray blur? Hud shot a quick glance over his shoulder to the alley. The kissing bandit? he wondered. Where was she now? Had she returned safely from wherever she’d come from?

A shadowy movement in the alley caught Hud’s attention. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he said, striding off.

Hud muttered an oath when the elusive female backed into the deepest reaches of the alley, making it impossible to see her face again. “I want to know who you are,” he demanded as he approached. When she pivoted on her heels, he said, “Don’t make me chase you down, because I can and I will do it.”

She turned to face him and he cursed that droopy bonnet that hid her features as he approached. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and her bonnet flopped over her face.

“You weren’t hurt by the hide hunter?” When she shook her head no, he said, “Tell me your name.”

She didn’t speak, just curled her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him senseless again. Instant pleasure assailed him and he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her hard and hungrily for a long, breathless moment. Then she traced his lips with her forefinger and backed away.

“Hey! Are you coming to help or not?” the marshal shouted impatiently.

“I’m on my way,” Hud called over his shoulder.

To his dismay he glanced back to see that his fantasy woman had vanished like a specter evaporating into nothingness. Grumbling at the kissing bandit’s amazing ability to melt down his brain then disappear at will, he strode toward the marshal. He told himself to forget about the mysterious woman and focus on locking the brawlers in jail. Then he could quench his thirst, scratch an itch and wait for Commander Price’s daughter to arrive in The Flat.

Chapter Three

When the two men were locked behind bars, Hud glanced curiously at the marshal. “Do you know if a female passenger arrived on the stagecoach today?”

Calvin suddenly noticed his improperly buttoned shirt. He smiled guiltily as he corrected the problem.

“Better check your gaping placket while you’re at it,” Hud suggested with a wry grin.

“Well, hell,” Calvin grumbled self-consciously. “It’s getting to where a man can’t follow pleasurable pursuits when he’s on break without being interrupted by gun-fights, brawls and such. In the past week there’s been a duel on the street, an unidentified body left in the alley and a half-dozen saloon brawls. Not to mention corralling an abusive drunk in the red-light district.”

“About the stage passengers?” Hud prompted. “I’m supposed to escort the commander’s daughter to the Ranger camp.”

Calvin nodded in recognition. “I heard there were a lady and a highfalutin political candidate on board the stagecoach. But I didn’t see her in person. The coach rolled in late this afternoon.” He lifted a thinning brow. “The commander’s daughter, you say?”

Hud nodded.

“I don’t know where she is, but I saw that Powell character strutting around like a rooster earlier this evening. He’s campaigning for senator and he was shaking a few hands after the theater performance. Then he strutted off with a crowd of cowboys. My guess is that he was planning to buy a few votes by paying for several rounds of whiskey at one of the saloons. The woman is probably holed up in Brazos Hotel since it offers the best accommodations in town.”

After Hud fielded the marshal’s questions about the reports of Comanche and Kiowa raids against supply wagons and the threat of Mexican and white outlaw gangs stealing everything they could carry off, he stopped in for a long-awaited drink at a saloon.

First thing in the morning he would seek out Miss High-and-Mighty Price and arrange for the return trip to camp. He dreaded the jaunt and the unwanted company, but at least this escort detail would take only a few days. Then he could concentrate on finding Mad Joe Jarvis and his sidekick, Pete Spaulding.

Bri had been lingering in the shadows of the alley, watching the brawny stranger break up the brawl between the lecherous bastard who’d grabbed her and the drunken cowboy who’d tried to come to her defense—and had accidentally gotten in her way. She would’ve had that stinking hide hunter laid out like a corpse in the dirt, suffering a brain-scrambling blow to his hard head if the cowboy hadn’t charged in.

She hadn’t lost the knack of self-defense, she mused proudly. Benji Dunlop had taught her well. She remembered every dirty trick and had used several on the drunken brute before she knocked him to his knees. What she didn’t know was why she’d allowed the tall, muscular stranger to approach her when she could have lost herself in the shadows of the alley, despite his claim that he could track her down.

After the stranger and the marshal hauled the two men to jail, Bri wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders and scuttled back to the hotel. She could rest easy now. She had contacted the livery owner and purchased a sturdy mount and had gathered a few supplies as well. However, she had yet to hire a dependable guide. She frowned pensively, wondering where she might find a reliable escort in a town jumping alive with scoundrels.

Perhaps she could hire the stranger, she mused as she locked the door to her hotel room. He was obviously competent. She had watched him break up a street fight without sustaining so much as a scratch.

Bri removed her gown to stitch up the shoulder seam the hide hunter had ripped loose when he became pushy and insistent.

On second thought, it wouldn’t be wise to approach the ruggedly handsome stranger she’d brazenly kissed twice in the same night. If he recognized her, he might presume that he was entitled to fringe benefits during their cross-country jaunt.

Then again, if he didn’t recognize her…

Bri set aside her mended gown to prepare for bed. Maybe she would approach the stranger and test the waters. If he didn’t recognize her she might offer him a job as her guide. He’d proven himself capable of handling adversity this evening. Whoever and whatever he was, he had remained cool and collected while breaking up the brawl.

Bri admired that about him. Not to mention her appreciation of the arousing way he kissed. The erotic thought sent wicked pleasure rippling through her. Smiling secretively, Bri laid her head on her pillow and fell fast asleep. Two hours later she awakened in the middle of such a vivid fantasy that her body burned with forbidden desire. Chastising herself, she crammed the pillow over her head and tried to sleep without dreaming.

Eaton glanced at his bejeweled pocket watch. He’d bought a round of drinks and encouraged the saloon patrons to cast their votes for him in the upcoming election. Impatiently he finished off his drink and killed another few minutes before the clandestine meeting he’d arranged with his new associate.

He swallowed a grin, remembering that Sylvia would be waiting for him when he concluded his business. Eaton cast aside the lusty thought as he sauntered from the saloon to the gaming hall. When the three men appeared on the boardwalk, he inclined his head toward the alley.

Eaton tapped the butt of the pistol he carried beneath his expensive jacket to make sure he was still armed—just in case. Muggings were commonplace in this hellhole and he didn’t intend to become a victim while he arranged for his newfound friend’s hirelings to deal effectively with Gabrielle.

“Now, what is this task you require, in exchange for my financial support and your political loyalty?” Ray Novak asked then puffed on his cigar.

Eaton surveyed his new cohort’s bulky physique and bushy eyebrows. The rancher shared the same fetish of dressing in the finest clothing money could buy. A man after my own heart, Eaton thought as he walked deeper into the shadows of the alley so no one could overhear him.

“I’m having a problem with my contrary fiancée,” he murmured. “I trust your two men can make the necessary accommodations. I intend to teach her a lesson and to promote my campaign. Of course, this favor will benefit you as well.”

“Count on it.” Novak smiled around the cigar he had clamped between his teeth.

Then Eaton got down to the dirty business of hammering out the details.

The next morning Bri started when someone rapped abruptly on her hotel room door. She glanced at her watch, surprised Eaton had piled out of bed at this early hour, even if he was driven by the need to convince her to reconsider their engagement.

“Not a chance in hell that I will change my mind,” she vowed as she opened the door. She blinked in surprise when the brawny stranger who had tormented her dreams loomed on the threshold, not Eaton.

“Miss Price, I presume.”

His deep, resonant voice rolled over her. She was quick to note that he didn’t seem surprised to see her. There was no flicker of recognition in his whiskey-colored eyes that were surrounded by thick black lashes. He was as tall as she remembered and his face was tanned. Raven hair protruded from beneath the brim of his hat.

Although he wore buckskin breeches and a dark button-down shirt that looked the worse for wear, he filled out the garments exceptionally well. He did indeed possess broad shoulders and long muscular arms, just as she remembered. Double holsters that sported pearl-handled peacemakers encircled his lean waist. He had horseman’s thighs and he wore scuffed high-heeled boots designed to remain in the stirrups when breaking speed records on the back of a horse.

This was definitely the man she had kissed last night. Minus the bristly whiskers, she tacked on. Now he was clean-shaven and she wondered if she’d enjoy kissing him even more without those whiskers.

Bri mentally pinched herself when she realized she was staring at his sensuous lips and studying his striking appearance like a dazzled schoolgirl. It amazed her that she felt such an instant and compelling physical attraction to him. For all she knew he might be a hired killer. Whatever his profession, he was appealing—in a rugged sort of way—and he drew her attention and held it fast.

When his alert gaze roved over her plain blue cotton gown then refocused on her face, she didn’t know why she felt insulted by what appeared to be his indifference and his quick dismissal. Nonetheless, she was disappointed. She swore that she saw him smirk before he schooled his face in a carefully disciplined stare. Obviously he’d taken one look at her and found her lacking.

True, she wasn’t wearing the most expensive gown she owned and she didn’t approve of putting on airs the way Eaton did, but she did look presentable…didn’t she? She looked better than when she wore the dowdy gray gown, bonnet and shawl that practically made her invisible in the shadows.

“And your name is?” she replied while he studied her with a stare that was no more flattering than the first.

Honestly, she might not be a raving beauty like some of the debutantes who attended soirées in Austin, but she’d never had a man show such a complete lack of interest. Usually men paid her more attention than she preferred.

“Captain Hudson Stone,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. “You can call me Hud. Your father ordered me to contact you. I am to escort you to camp since he is on inspection and is occupied with field reports.” He stared pointedly at her. “Perhaps you can schedule your next visit during a time when the commander isn’t exceptionally busy. You might save both of us valuable time.”

She arched a challenging brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you lecturing me, Captain?”

“Is that what it sounded like?”

Hud stared at her with feigned innocence and watched her hypnotic indigo eyes flicker with irritation. If she was upset by his insult then too damn bad. He was tired, cranky and annoyed that she was so strikingly attractive that it took all his willpower not to react to her. He wanted her to be the female version of Winston Price. She was anything but.

She was positively alluring with those almond-shaped eyes that were rimmed with long sooty lashes. Her oval face was the color of peaches and cream and her pert nose gave her a bit of an impish appearance. Her curly mane of gold hair seemed to catch fire in the early morning light that streamed through the window. He had to clench his fist to prevent himself from burying his hand in those flaming curls.

Hud hated that he found everything about Gabrielle Price appealing. Lusting after an engaged woman was unacceptable. Especially this one. She was also the commander’s daughter.

“I don’t know what I have done to annoy you, Captain. Or are you just one of those surly individuals who wakes up in a bad mood and never overcomes it?” she asked with a sticky-sweet smile.

Extremely attractive…except for that sassy mouth, he corrected. Maybe that’s what Commander Price meant when he claimed Gabrielle was unique.

When she snapped her fingers in his face, disciplining him like an absentminded child, he jerked up his head and glared down at her from his superior height. His steely-eyed stare didn’t faze her one whit, he noted.

Feisty and combative, too, he mused, adding to the list of her annoying traits. The more the better, he thought.

“Damn good thing you’re pretty,” he muttered under his breath.

“Say again?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Nothing important.”

“I figured as much. I’m sure my father kept his best Rangers for patrol duty and left you for me.”

He bared his teeth. Not to be outdone, she did the same. They were off to a rocky start. Not that he cared. Escort detail kept him from his crusade to avenge Speck Horton. Because of this delay, a cold trail would be damn hard to follow.

And that snide remark she’d made about other Rangers being more competent? He’d like to shake her until her teeth rattled for saying that.

“You saved me the trouble of seeking out a guide,” she commented as she strode over to gather her two satchels. “I still can replace you if you prefer. Apparently you have taken an instant disliking to me, Captain.”

She had that right…and wrong. He liked her—in an exasperating sort of way that defied common sense. He had expected a whiny little daisy of a female. Instead, he had clashed with an iron-willed woman who didn’t back down easily and gave exactly what she got. He doubted she could follow orders worth a damn, either. Despite the fact that her father had spent two decades in military service and law enforcement, he hadn’t managed to teach Gabrielle Price discipline.

When Hud dallied too long in thought, she snapped her fingers at him again, which aggravated the hell out of him.

“Well? Shall I seek out someone else, Stone? Are these questions too difficult for you? I can speak slower if necessary,” she taunted unmercifully.

Hud blew out a breath. “No, I’m under direct orders from your father,” he replied in a brusque tone. “With any luck, we will dodge bloodthirsty outlaws and Indian war parties to reach bivouac without killing each other. I’m up to the challenge if you are.”

“Definitely.” She nodded her head and sunlight sparkled in that glorious mass of curly golden hair again. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

“At first light tomorrow…if you can drag yourself from bed that early,” he added caustically.

She smiled snidely at him. “I’m an early riser. As you can see, the early bird is here to greet the worm.”

Bri bit back a grin when Hud’s amber gaze narrowed on her. If he wanted to continue exchanging insults, she was up to the challenge. In fact, she rather enjoyed matching wits with this particular Ranger, who obviously drew the short straw when it came to unwanted escort detail. He was stuck with her and he wasn’t the least bit happy about it. He had no qualms about voicing his displeasure, either.

“I see no reason why we can’t leave this morning,” she insisted. “I’m packed and ready to ride.”

“I have other duties to attend while I’m in town.”

“Like what? A visit to the nearest brothel and saloons? A diversion to compensate for the unpleasant duty of acting as my guide?”

“Precisely. You’re more insightful than I anticipated,” he countered. “Might as well have some fun when I can. Clearly, we aren’t going to get along well during our journey through a region where danger is the rule, not the exception. I’m warning you now that this is no place for the faint of heart and the tender of foot.”

She snickered at his turn of phrase.

“I’ll give you a day’s rest so you can keep the swift pace I set, Mizz Price.” He stepped closer, eclipsing her with his size and stature. “Just so you know, my longtime friend and fellow Ranger was murdered recently. I was trying to track down the bastard who shot Speck Horton in the back, stole his badge and left him to coyotes. Have you ever seen what a pack of hungry coyotes can do to a man, Mizz Price?”

She grimaced at the bleak prospect. “No.”

“Consider yourself lucky because it isn’t pretty. Speck was my friend and dragging myself here to fetch a greenhorn, who arrived on a foolhardy whim doesn’t set well with me.”

He stared her down—and he was good at it, damn his brawny hide. “If you and your fiancé had any brains in your heads you’d catch the next stagecoach out of here and wait for your father’s return to Austin to visit him. They don’t call this place Hell’s Fringe for nothing. So pay attention when you sashay down the boardwalk today. And do not go out at night unless you have a death wish.”

She would love to tell this hard-bitten Ranger captain that she could take care of herself, thank you very much. But he was all puffed up like a spitting cobra and it was difficult to get a word in edgewise.

“People in these parts get their throats slit for the coins in their pockets,” he said bluntly. “And you don’t want to know what can happen to a defenseless woman. Just last night a female came dangerously close to being mauled and raped by a drunken hide hunter.”

Not as close as you think, she mused. The foul-smelling brute was seeing double after she clobbered him with the broken wagon yoke she’d found in the garbage bin.