Jodi Thomas - WM 1 Page 3

  He couldn’t hide his grin as Ireland flavored her every word. He wasn’t surprised when the hood of her navy cape slipped slightly to reveal red curls.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be standing so close behind me.” He removed his hat and tried to focus enough in the darkness to see her face.

  She was small, maybe an inch or two shorter than Sage, and except for a colorful scarf at her throat, covered in dark blue wool. He couldn’t help thinking that she would blend almost perfectly with a midnight sky. Still, how could she have gotten so close without him hearing her?

  “I wasn’t standing behind ye.” She smoothed her hands down her coat and tugged up the hood, almost disappearing into the shadows. “I was hiding, and I’ll thank ye to turn around and go about yer business so I can get back to mine. As far as I’m concerned, ye’re a tree growing here in this barn, and I’ve nothing to say to ye.”

  Travis didn’t budge. “ ’Tis sorry, I am.” He echoed her accent. “When did hiding become a business?”

  Silently she stared at him as if she thought him slowwitted.

  “Mind telling me why you feel the need for such an occupation?” he asked. Most of her face might be in shadow, but he found himself dying to see what she looked like.

  She rolled her beautiful green eyes. “Now, sir, if I was hiding, it should be logical that I’d be doing it so I won’t have to talk. Turn around before I have to get rough with ye.”

  Travis slowly followed orders deciding that this dance might not be as boring as he’d thought. Sage was obviously having a great time talking to friends, and he had someone of interest to watch.

  When he glanced back, she’d vanished as quickly as she’d appeared. He was surprised how disappointed he felt. He watched the crowd, seeing a few faces he recognized, but none with green eyes.

  The Widow Dickerson came over after half an hour of dancing with every old man she could talk into taking her around the floor. She was actively looking for husband number three. Since she had a drink in her hand and he was half her age, Travis thought he would be safe talking to her without having to dance.

  “Evening, Mrs. Dickerson.”

  “Evening, Travis. It’s good to see you home.” She had a way of moving her head back and forth like a clock’s pendulum when she talked. A habit that must drive her pupils crazy. “I saw your brothers at the trading post a few months ago, and they said you were overdue for a visit.”

  “Yes,” he nodded, not surprised she asked about him, for Mrs. Dickerson tried her best to keep up with everyone.

  She smiled and waited.

  That was it, he thought, the entire scope of his conversation skills.

  “Nice dance,” she said, as if coaching him.

  “Yes,” he answered, trying to think of another word to say. “Lots of new folks.”

  She nodded. “True, but several are with the wagons heading north in the morning. They only stayed this long because of the dance. Won’t be much fun where they are headed.”

  “Oh.” He frowned trying to think of more than one-word answers.

  Mrs. Dickerson didn’t seem to notice. “Last I heard, Elmo is looking for someone to take them farther upriver, but everyone knows it’s not safe much past Fort Graham.”

  Travis nodded. He tried to listen, but he’d caught a glimpse of color, no more than a scarf, slip through the side door. The woman he’d stepped on was leaving. He felt a pull to follow her. One touch, one look. He hadn’t even seen her whole face, yet he almost ran for the door.

  “If you had time, you could take them.” Mrs. Dickerson nodded as if she’d solved the homesteaders’ problem. “Sage tells me you’ve been all over Texas.”

  Travis forced himself to pay attention to the old teacher. He didn’t want to spend the first break he’d had in two years taking farmers north as she suggested. They always seemed to buy land just beyond where the forts could protect them. The warring tribes in the top half of the state weren’t like those in the south. He’d seen enough burned homesteads already. Texas had plenty of outlaws and rustlers in the south to keep him busy. He didn’t need to go north.

  He glanced once more at the door, wondering what the little lady he’d stepped on would do if he followed her.

  Mrs. Dickerson spotted Homer Carter and patted Travis’s arm. Once more Travis forced himself to stop daydreaming.

  He stared in the direction the teacher was looking and noticed Homer. The man had cleaned up since the last time Travis saw him, but his face still looked like leather.

  The schoolteacher handed Travis her mug and waved goodbye as she hurried to trap her next dance partner.

  He sat the mug down and glanced in Sage’s direction. She looked like she was saying yes to a dance with a lean cowhand. He appeared more boy than man, but Travis didn’t miss that he still wore his gun belt even though Elmo had asked everyone to check guns at the door. Most men removed belt and all, but this kid wanted everyone at the dance to know he wore a weapon.

  Travis shook his head. He didn’t like the fellow already. In fact, if he were guessing, he’d say Sage’s new dance partner would never be man enough to marry his sister no matter how many weapons he showed off. Travis debated pulling him aside and filling him in on that fact when he finished dancing. After all, if his faults were so obvious from half a barn away, Travis would be doing him a favor by letting him know he didn’t have a chance.

  It’s just a dance, Travis reminded himself. He couldn’t find fault with all his sister’s dance partners, even if it did appear easy to do so.

  As the music started, he took a deep breath and moved to the side door. Maybe he’d better get some air. Being a big brother was hard work. He told himself his action had nothing to do with green eyes.

  Once outside, he looked around for the woman who’d stood behind him. He’d seen her leave, but not return. So, unless she’d turned in, she must be somewhere outside hiding as she’d done all night.

  There were enough campfires around that he should at least be able to spot her shadow if she were moving about. He told himself he wasn’t really interested in talking to her, but he might ask about her health. After all, he could have hurt her when he’d stepped on her. Travis vaguely remembered the feel of her foot beneath his boot heel when he’d moved backward. And something soft had brushed his arm as he’d twisted around. He closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be thinking about what part of her body had felt so soft.

  Travis circled the yard. A few mothers were putting their children to bed in bedrolls beneath the wagons. Their lullabies blended with the music from the barn. An old woman rocked in a chair on the porch of one of the new little houses that had been built beside the trading post. Her head was back, her eyes closed. He couldn’t tell if she was listening to the music or sleeping. In the tall grass by the barn door, two young girls sat catching fireflies and giggling.

  Travis moved into the shadows, watching and hoping he wouldn’t step on the little woman again. Coming to a dance, then trying to hide, seemed a little peculiar. He smiled realizing that was pretty much what he’d been doing.

  When he reached the line of horses tied to a long rope, he spotted someone moving among them. Most of the folks who’d ridden in had taken time to unsaddle their mounts, but a few hadn’t bothered. Travis shook his head. He could almost hear his little brother Tobin complaining. Tobin loved horses more than any man alive. He wouldn’t have understood why they hadn’t taken time to remove their saddles.

  Travis recognized the shadow in blue creeping down the line. He moved closer, making sure she couldn’t see him following.

  He passed the first mount and noticed the reins had come loose from the rope. Knotting them firmly, he moved to the next. Untied. He looped the leather back to the rope and followed the shadow. She might be just playing a joke . . . making tired cowhands chase their horses after they’d danced all night.

  Or she might be playing an old trick that was no joke. First untie, then spook a group of ho
rses. When they scattered in different directions, it wouldn’t be hard to guide one away and be gone before the cowhands realized they hadn’t rounded up every mount. A dance like this would be an easy place to steal a mount.

  If that was her game, the little lady was about to break the law, and his time off was over.

  He slipped the Texas Ranger badge from his pocket and pinned it to his shirt. Time to go to work. As he pulled his jacket over the badge, he hoped he wouldn’t have to arrest anyone tonight. Especially not someone with green eyes. He’d already seen them angry; he didn’t want to see hate in them as well.

  As he tied the last few horses back in place, he watched her run toward the barn. She didn’t look back, but made a wide circle around a group of men heading out of the dance. Her cape flew around her like wings, making him smile. His father used to tell stories of Ireland and how fairies lived in the woods. Travis had asked him once if he’d brought a fairy with him to Texas, and his father had frowned. “No, son,” he’d said. “There’s no room for fairies in Texas.”

  Travis watched the little woman disappear near the barn. Maybe his father had been wrong.

  CHAPTER 3

  RAINEY ADAMS MUMBLED AN OATH AS SHE WATCHED the group of young cowhands head out of the dance. They joked with one another as they ambled toward the stack of saddles and gear they’d left piled several feet from the horse line. She’d seen the behavior before. Men in groups left a party for one of two things. Smoking or drinking. These boys were probably building up their courage to ask a girl to dance. By the end of the evening, several would have failed in their quest and would turn their efforts toward fighting to reestablish their manhood.

  Men were such strange creatures, Rainey decided as she pulled her hood over her red curls and hoped they wouldn’t notice her in the shadows. She didn’t care what the cowhands did, but the direction they were headed worried her.

  They walked toward the horses!

  One was sure to notice the mounts had been untied, and from there it wouldn’t take many brains to figure out what she’d planned. Even if they hadn’t seen her leave the barn, she was still a stranger. She’d learned the hard way that the newcomer usually gets blamed if something goes wrong.

  Rainey slipped into the blackness behind the barn door and watched, telling herself she’d been careful tonight. There was no way anyone would guess that she’d been involved if trouble came. Only one man had even noticed her moving about, and he’d almost crippled her with his big feet. He’d been tall, solid as an oak, when he’d slammed into her. She might have yelled at him, but he didn’t look like he wanted to be there any more than she did.

  “Only, I’ve a mission tonight,” she reasoned in a mumble to no one. “I have to have a horse by tomorrow morning or I’ll be left behind to starve. The big man is not stopping me, and neither will these boys sneaking out for a drink.” With no money left, the choices were few. “I’ll borrow one horse, that’s all, and be on my way in the safety of the group of wagons heading north. As soon as I get to the fort, I’ll turn the horse loose to come home none the worse for wear.”

  Closing her eyes, she wondered if the fort would be any better place than Galveston. She’d sworn to disappear to where no one would find her, but Rainey had feared the coast of Texas might not be far enough. . . . Fort Graham might be too far.

  She shoved aside her worries and watched the group of men circle their saddles. One pulled a bottle from his gear, and they began passing it around. As whiskey poured from the bottle, the men’s voices rose. She waited, hoping they wouldn’t notice the horse line . . . praying they wouldn’t make so much noise that they frightened the horses themselves. She pressed her back against the rough barn wall, trying to melt into the night as she lingered. If they’d just finish their drinking and go back inside, she could go about her business of horse borrowing with no one the wiser. She only had one more leg of her journey.

  Past the group of men, she saw something move. She stared, frozen, watching the form of a man take shape from the darkness. He shifted again so slightly she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been focusing. Rainey recognized him. The tall-as-an-oak stranger. He stood alone near the horses, his hat low, not even allowing moonlight to touch his face. She tried to remember what he’d looked like when he’d apologized for tripping over her, but she couldn’t envision his features. Only solid muscle.

  One of the cowboys saw him, too. “Hey, you. What you doing over by our horses?”

  Another youth turned toward the stranger. “Yeah, you didn’t ride in with us. I been here over a year and know most men who work in these parts. Where’re you from?”

  A stout cowhand, who sounded like he’d had more than his share of whiskey, walked toward the tall man. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, either. You’re not from around here. Who invited you?”

  The tall stranger appeared to be deaf. He made no attempt to answer their questions or explain why he came to the dance.

  The thought crossed Rainey’s mind that if the cowhands found the horses untied, they might think the stranger did it.

  She took a step toward the men. She might be a horse borrower, but she couldn’t stand by while another took the blame for something she’d done. It wasn’t her way and never would be, no matter how much she wanted to stay invisible.

  The cowhands seemed to read her mind. They all turned to the stranger asking questions so fast he couldn’t have answered them. Strangers in this part of Texas were not uncommon and oftentimes meant trouble. Since the Battle of the Alamo, every outlaw in the States and Mexico seemed to have found his way to Texas, blending in with the just plain folks already living here. She wasn’t surprised the cowhands didn’t give the stranger a chance.

  But he wasn’t helping matters, remaining silent as a post. Rainey didn’t miss the way his hand slid down his leg as if feeling for an invisible gun. He must know he was in trouble. Ten to one were poor odds, even for a man built of oak. In seconds they’d find the untied horses, and the stranger would be blamed.

  Without further thought, Rainey headed for the drunken group. She had to stop this before the silent man was beaten to a pulp.

  Running past the cowhands with their angry shouts, she flew right toward the stranger.

  She closed her eyes and braced for the impact, but at the last moment he caught her and lifted her off the ground. He swung her around once, then eased her to earth as if he’d done so a thousand times.

  Rainey laughed at the sheer joy of feeling like she’d taken flight. Then, before he could say a word, she circled his neck with her arms and, standing on tiptoes, touched her mouth to his. When she pulled away, she laughed. “Sorry I’m late, darling.”

  On impulse she touched her lips to his again and felt him smile as he held her to him for a moment. The warmth of his mouth against hers surprised her. His big hands circled her waist, and in this stranger’s embrace she felt safe for the first time in months. She was almost sorry when he straightened and ended their play-like kiss.

  The cowhands backed away. Questioning a stranger was one thing. Interrupting lovers was quite another.

  Rainey barely noticed them walking back to the barn. Suddenly she became very much aware that she was plastered against this silent man who hadn’t done a thing to save himself. She lowered off her toes, her body moving down his. Through their layers of clothes she felt the lean strength of him.

  Her fingers crossed his chest as she wondered if a heart beat beneath the wall of muscle.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” he whispered against her ear as his hands gentled to almost a caress at her waist.

  Rainey looked up, trying to see his face. His voice was rich, but not all that friendly considering they’d just kissed. If she could call pressing her lips against his kissing. She had a feeling there was more to the act, or couples would have given it up ages ago.

  “I had to do something to save ye, lad. Those men were about to find out . . .” She hesitate
d, realizing she couldn’t very well tell him what they were about to discover or she’d be admitting her own involvement in the crime. She didn’t have the time to tell this stranger how desperately she needed a horse so she could travel with the wagons tomorrow to the fort a few days away. He probably wouldn’t understand, or care.

  She didn’t have time to explain, but she seemed to have the time to continue leaning against him as if he were the first lifeline she’d encountered in this sea of wilderness. How could the feel of a man silently comfort her?

  “Before they found out what?” His low words brushed across her cheek. His question came slow, almost forced from him as if he would have been content to simply stand beside her but knew he had to talk.

  He stood so still waiting for her to finish her sentence that she feared he didn’t breathe. Her hand reached just inside his coat and touched his chest once more, spreading across his heart. She’d never been so bold and surprised herself by realizing she felt a need to touch him.

  The tip of her fingers brushed metal, and without seeing it, she knew he wore a badge. Her fingers traced the outline of the cold steel. A circle star. She’d heard of the men who pinned on such a brand. They were called Rangers. Hard men who saw no bend in the law.

  Rainey pushed away, missing the nearness of him while the heat of his body still warmed her skin but knowing he wouldn’t understand. Closing her eyes, she pledged to be more careful. “Oh, and what does it matter anyway? If ye’re too dumb to try and save yourself, I may just be wasting me time fretting over ya. Maybe I should let them beat you senseless?” Frustrated, she turned away. This was not the time to find herself attracted to a man. She had far greater problems.

  She took one step before he caught her wrist in a firm grip. “I was in no danger.” His voice came low again. Velvet in the night.

  She tugged at his hold, but he didn’t release her. She slowly pivoted to face him, looking up into the shadows of his face. “Ye may not have thought ye were in danger facing ten men, but if you don’t turn loose of me, you’ll be meeting your Maker by midnight.”