The Texas Ranger's Daughter Page 11

  “Then what’s in this for you?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Redemption, he thought and glanced away and felt her hand clamp on his arm.

  “He didn’t promise you anything. You didn’t ask for anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “But you’re hoping for something. Something important. Something you won’t have otherwise. You bring me home and my father is indebted to you. What is it he can give you?”

  Boon’s face heated and he looked away. Laurie gasped.

  “You want to be a Texas Ranger!” Her jaw dropped open at the startling discovery. Boon wanted to be a lawman, protect the weak, uphold the law. She blinked in astonishment.

  His eyes narrowed and his features hardened into a nasty scowl. He tugged his arm free. “They don’t let outlaws into the Rangers.”

  She ignored that. “But that proves my point. A good man. I knew it all along.”

  “Laurie, you’re crazy. I don’t want to…” But he couldn’t finish. He wanted it so bad he could feel the weight of that silver star on his shirt. He could see it flash in the sun. He could feel the ache over wanting to belong to that elite group of fighters whose business was to keep folks safe from marauders and rustlers and raiding Apache. Important, dangerous, satisfying work. Work that could make a man proud.

  He met her eyes, glaring now, hating her for seeing through him. “Have I thought about it? Yeah. Along with a lot of other things that I’ll never have, like parents, a real home and the love of a good woman.”

  That last one made her mouth snap shut like a wolf trap.

  He forged on. “From where I stand I’ll be damned lucky to get out of this alive. The rest is gravy.”

  Boon was on his feet, stooping to retrieve his hat. Laurie scrambled to join him, frightened by his expression and the hard glint in his eyes. This was how he’d looked when he faced that man and fought him to the death. Her insides trembled at the terrible visage and the stranger now standing before her.

  “Do you know why your pa was nice to me? Why he saved me from that noose? It sure wasn’t because he felt the need to reform my sorry ass. He needed me to get to you. That’s all. He’s using me to get you and I’m using him to clear my name. Once that’s done he’ll cut me loose and I’ll take my new pistols and ride for Mexico.”

  “You could have done that already. You didn’t have to come for me.”

  Boon leaned in, but she didn’t back up. He pressed on his hat, left her there beside the stream and stormed up the rock. He paused at the fire but only to scatter the coals with a vicious kick.

  “Outlaws don’t become Rangers. I’ll see you safe and be on my way. Don’t you think I won’t.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Boon! Wait!” Laurie scurried after him, but he was a man with a purpose and his angry stride took him out of her sight before she could catch him.

  She found him at the horses, saddle and blanket in hand, approaching the bay, who slept so soundly he didn’t know he was saddled until the blanket contacted his back.

  Boon stooped to retrieve the girth that now dangled on the other side of the horse’s flank.

  “I think you’d make a fine Ranger.”

  He snorted.

  “You saved me,” she reminded him, reaching to rest a hand upon his shoulder. Then, thinking better of the action, she let her arm drop back to her side.

  He cinched the girth and turned to retrieve the other saddle. The chestnut’s ears swiveled as Boon approached. The gelding sidestepped his hindquarters, but Boon barely slowed as he threw the saddle into place.

  “Men overcome a difficult past all the time. You can, too. No one has a perfect situation, after all.”

  He turned on her. “Don’t they? What about you, Laurie Bender? You got any secrets? You made any mistakes? Besides last night, I mean.”

  She felt her ears tingle at that and turned half away, reconsidering her approach. This was a topic she was not willing to discuss with anyone.

  “Right,” he said and went about bridling the bay.

  “I just thought you might like to discuss this.”

  He paused, the buckle of the throat latch half done, and glanced back at her. “Discuss? Is that what this is—a discussion? Because I spilled my guts back there and you’re closed up tighter than an oyster. You dress like a lady and ride like a man and you keep your cards closer to your vest than a riverboat gambler.”

  She felt herself growing smaller. “I was just trying to help,” she whispered, her voice now tiny and weak.

  “I ain’t asked your advice, have I?”

  Boon completed the buckle and then left the reins to dangle as he headed for the chestnut. She said nothing as he set the saddlebags in place and returned for her.

  “Can’t afford to tarry. Horses are dry. Time to move.”

  He extended his hand to assist her but she lifted her leg and gained a footing in the long stirrup, swinging up unaided, then adjusted her long skirts to cover her legs and much of the horse’s rump, thoroughly sorry she had tried to comfort him at all.

  All too soon they were trotting up the incline in twilight, counting the hours until she could rest. As the trail rose above the stream she opted to clutch the bay’s black mane to keep from sliding backward over the cantle. It seemed, at times, she lay half on the creature’s neck. They did not reach the canyon rim before the darkness settled over the land. The horses were heaving with the exertion of the steep trail, their sides lathered and their heads hanging.

  Boon pulled up and Laurie and the horse both groaned.

  “We’ll rest here until the moon is up. Then head on,” he said.

  The landscape was forbidding, all rock and little vegetation. Laurie thought it a horrible place to rest, but said nothing as she drew one tired leg from the stirrup.

  Laurie managed to get her leg over the back of the saddle. Boon guided her to the ground and held her about the waist until she had her balance. She smiled wearily at him.

  “Thank you.”

  He gathered the horses’ reins and took them down a steep incline to the stream, and she followed behind, twice landing on her backside. Laurie moved upstream to drink as the horses pawed and slurped at the water below her. Boon waited until the horses had their fill and then drank, as well. Making it up the incline was easier for Laurie than the horses, but all found their way to the top of the ridge. There were no trees here, just large rock formations, sculpted by the wind. Boon led them away from the animal path and into the cover of rock, pausing when they were out of sight from anyone pursuing them.

  “We’ve got some time to rest before moonrise.” He laid the saddles side by side then set the saddle blankets before them and stretched a bedroll over both.

  She collapsed upon the bedding, wearier than ever in her life. Her legs felt weak as water and trembled from the long ride. Boon hobbled the horses.

  “I got to go cover our tracks,” he said.

  Laurie began to rise. “Shall I come with you?”

  He shook his head. “Rest awhile. I’ll be back directly. I’ll whistle like this so you know it’s me.” He gave a very respectable imitation of the cry of a hawk.

  “Hawks don’t fly at night,” she said.

  “Well, I do a poor owl.” He favored her with his lopsided smile and headed off.

  She watched him go, until he was no more than a shadow moving along the rock face. Had he forgiven her?

  The stars shone with just enough light for her to make out her direct surroundings. She wondered how Boon could even see their trail. Peepers began their chorus. Bats flitted overhead, diving and darting after insects, dark silhouettes against the star-scattered sky.

  Laurie waited. Her eyes grew heavy. She thought the bats might not notice her if she was lower to the ground, so she rested her head on one of the saddles.

  She stared up at the stars and wondered if her father and his men were already waiting at the station. She did not understand when it happened, but it s
eemed that overnight she went from the freedom of a girl riding over the rolling hills with her father, to a woman packaged in taffeta bonnets, ribbons and bows. After that, he was away more than he was home. Every time he did return, her parents fought, always about the same thing: the raising of Laurie. Her father wanted his wife and child nearby; Mother insisted on living in a city, away from Indians and rustlers. She said the wilderness was no place to raise their daughter. His visits became less frequent, then he stopped coming altogether and her mother had filed for divorce. Recently her mother began seeing a man named Calvin.

  Laurie stared up at the twinkling stars and thought about what Boon had said, about her father saving him so he could rescue his daughter. It didn’t make sense.

  A moment later, she heard the cry of a hawk and sat up as Boon appeared from the darkness. He came to sit beside her, his features shrouded by the night.

  “When were you captured by the Rangers?” she asked.

  “Three weeks back.”

  “But, Boon, my father couldn’t have known I would be captured back then or he would have prevented it.”

  Boon turned, his mind perhaps picking up the inconsistency she had detected.

  “When he spared you, he did not do so because he needed you to rescue me. So there must be some other reason.”

  “Well, if he had one, I can’t think what it was.”

  “Perhaps he found you to be truthful and brave and wanted you to have a second chance. If that is the case, I hope you will use that chance to pursue your calling.”

  He snorted. “You forget where I come from.”

  “That never determines where a man will go. Look at Abraham Lincoln. He came from humble roots.”

  Boon stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “You think I’m up for being president?”

  She nodded. “If you chose to be. But what is more important is what you want.” She gave him a pointed look.

  “Lincoln never killed no one.”

  “I believe that many in the South would disagree with you there.”

  “Why is it every time we get talking it’s about me. Let’s talk about you for a change.”

  “Presently,” she said, steering the conversation back to him. “I think you should become a Ranger, if that is what you wish to be.”

  “Easy to say.” He leaned back on the saddle beside hers, using it as a backrest. Then he tipped his hat back so he could gaze up at the stars, emerging like silver fish rising to the surface of a dark pool until the sky was littered with them.

  Boon folded his arms across his chest and let his body ease back. It felt good to stretch out and it felt good to sit quietly beside Laurie.

  “Is that what you want?” she asked.

  He hesitated and then gave in. Why not tell her? What difference did it make? And if she wanted to laugh, then let her.

  “Always fancied being a lawman. When those range bums got loco in town and the bar dog couldn’t handle them, it was the sheriff who kept order. He took care of the girls even though they was just…well, he did his job the same whether you was the mayor’s daughter or a good-time girl. Once a couple of Rangers came into the house. Never seen one before, but boy howdy, did they get everyone’s attention. Bought them drinks. Best of everything. I knew that day what I wanted. Didn’t seem impossible back then.”

  “That’s why you rode for the stage. You wanted to protect people.”

  His head sank. “And I failed.”

  “Oh, Boon, you were outnumbered and set upon by an outlaw who had evaded capture from many more experienced fighters than you.”

  “Still burns me up inside.”

  “And well it should. That’s the kind of fire that makes you do better the next time.”

  “Next time? Laurie, you sure have an optimistic nature.”

  “No, I have a selfish nature.”

  “How you figure?”

  “You said I never speak of myself, but that is because what I have to say is not very flattering. This, for instance. I came out here to find my father in order to urge him to stop my mother from remarrying a very sweet, honorable man because that was what was best for me. I hate being the child of a divorce. The ladies in town avoid my mother and their sons avoid me. I thought it was because of the divorce, but lately I have begun to wonder.” She clasped her hands over her abdomen and went silent so long, Boon thought she’d finished just about the time she started up again. “But my mother is content with Calvin. They don’t fight and he is there with her every day, unlike my father who is chasing all over Texas after outlaws, Indians and thieves. Still, I wanted to stop them and that is selfish.”

  Boon removed his hat and settled down so his head rested on the seat of his saddle. “That don’t seem so bad.”

  “If I had stayed home, none of this would have happened.” She met his gaze. “But then again, I never would have met you.”

  His answer was immediate and harsh. “That’s no loss.”

  “You’re wrong, Boon. You are, without question, the best thing that has happened to me in years. I know you will protect me from them. I trust you.”

  “You trust me?” he asked. His voice no longer held the venom he’d kindled before leaving the waterfall. Something about her nearness stole his irritation. His heart began a slow increase, building beat by beat.

  “With my life,” she said, rolling toward him and clasping her strong little hands around his upper arm. The heat made his blood race so fast he felt light-headed. “And I think you would make a fine Texas Ranger.”

  He cocked his head and stared at her, her face a wash of blue in the starlight. Then he shrugged an arm about her, drawing her close, hugging her against his side. Laurie rolled toward him and pressed herself against him. He breathed in the warm familiar scent of her body and took comfort in her soft contours. His arms came about her and he rested his cheek upon her head.

  “Oh, Laurie, you sure do have bad taste in men.”

  “I do not,” she murmured. “You are the bravest man I have ever met.”

  “Your father is braver.”

  “He likely would have set me on a horse and told me to ride north while he went after Hammer.” She drew back, looping her arms about his neck and toying with the hairs at his collar, making the skin on his neck tingle. “You would never do that. No one has ever put me first before.”

  Boon stiffened. “Laurie, I’m not your sweetheart.”

  “I know that. But you have been kind and you have defended me. And when we kissed—”

  He cut her off. “Laurie, I won’t lie. I fancy you. But you’re the captain’s daughter and I know my duty.”

  “That would not stop some.”

  “Well, I’m not some. I told you about my ma. I seen firsthand how it is with women. Life can be hard.”

  His words only proved to her that she was right about him. Laurie let his soft blond hair slide between her fingers.

  How different he was from other men, flirting, teasing, trying to steal a kiss or lure her into some private corner. Until Boon, she had never wanted to be touched that way. But with him she discovered the true meaning of desire. She respected him and fancied him and wanted him to kiss her again, perhaps do more than kiss her. She felt that same jolt of longing fluttering in her heart.

  Boon captured the hand that raked his hair and brought it away from his neck. “I’m bringing you back just like I found you, untouched.”

  Untouched.

  The stab of sorrow pierced her like a bullet. Laurie pressed her lips together to keep him from seeing the quavering of her chin, and failed. He couldn’t know that this was already impossible and she would not tell him.

  “What is it?”

  Her charade came crashing down about her like a glass house. She shook her head in denial—if she just kept pretending, it would be all right. It had to be.

  But now she faced a new dilemma. She was all mixed-up when it came to Boon. She wanted him, but did not want him to know of her condition. S
he wanted to appear proper while longing to be kissed. He said he would bring her home untouched, but what would he do if he knew that was already impossible?

  He knelt before her now, gripped her shoulders. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Did one of Hammer’s men take you before you got to camp?”

  She shook her head.

  “Laurie, are you sure?”

  She lifted her chin, peeking at him, her hands locked over her face, which burned at what she was about to reveal, the truth she’d hidden for so long. The realization both terrified and beckoned. She only now recognized how heavy the burden of that secret had become. But she would lay it down now, give it to Boon.

  “Not at camp,” she managed, her words sticking like flies on syrup.

  “Where?” His tone had turned deadly.

  “It’s bad,” she whispered.

  He released her, his hand stroking down her upper arms as he pulled away. Boon crossed his hands over one upturned knee and waited. “Whatever it is, I’ve done worse. You can tell me.” He waited but she kept her head down. “You said you trusted me, Laurie. If that’s true, you’ll tell me.”

  She did trust him. But it would be hard to let him see her as she truly was—a liar who had ruined herself before she had even become a woman. The facade she’d created to cover the truth crumbled.

  Laurie’s throat grew tight and her eyes burned. Tears were coming and squeezing her eyelids tight and pressing her lips together would not contain them.

  She knew what she was and soon Boon would know, as well, because she already knew she was going to tell him everything. She was going to divulge what she had shared with no one, and the realization frightened her to the core.

  Laurie lifted her chin and told him her secret.

  “You can’t bring me home untouched, Boon. It’s already too late for that. I was ruined before they ever captured me.” She covered her mouth with her hand and grabbled with her uneven breathing as the regret ripped around inside her.

  “What?”

  The disbelief showed in his eyes first. She said nothing more as she watched the incredulity harden into acceptance. What was he thinking?