Give Me A Texas Ranger (8 page)

That night set a pattern to their lives. She was all the proper nurse in the morning when breakfast was brought in and several of the men came to visit, but after lunch she’d shoo them all away, saying McCord needed his rest. Then, in the silence of the office, she’d sit on the table that was his bed and face him.

Without a word, he’d unbutton her blouse and brush the tips of his fingers over her warm flesh until she finally sighed, leaned forward, and kissed him fully. Anna had no idea if this was the way couples should act. She was far too old to worry about it. All she knew was that McCord loved touching her and she loved being touched.

His injury prevented them from going further, even though Wynn sometimes told her of what he’d like to do with her while she buttoned up her dress and unlocked the door to the late afternoon sun.

He grew stronger every day, and every night he held her a little longer before she moved away to her tent.

Logic told her he was a man without roots or home. The odds were he’d leave her, no matter what she said or how she cried, but when he did, he’d take her heart. She forced herself not to dwell on the future but only to treasure each hour they had.

On their fifth day together, McCord stood and dressed himself. His back was healing. He’d be whole again soon.

She watched as he reached for his Colts, then thought better of putting them on, but she knew a part of this Ranger would never feel completely dressed without the guns strapped around his waist.

“Anna, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said the first chance they had alone together. “I’m moving to the enlisted men’s quarters tonight. Cunningham said he’d help me with my things.”

“No,” she said, feeling her back stiffen. Just like that, he was leaving her.

He reached for her, but she stepped away and they both knew he couldn’t move fast enough to catch her.

He took two steps to the door and pulled the bolt closed. “This may be the last time we have alone for a few days. I’m not sure I’ll have the opportunity or the energy to walk all the way across camp tonight.”

She moved in front of him. “You’re not well. You need to be here. You still need care.”

“No, Anna, all I need now is a little time and you. Cunningham is rounding up an old buggy brought in for a wife who’d already left by the time it arrived. I could tie my horse to it and make it out of here. By the end of the week I’ll be able to…”

A pounding on the door drowned out his words.

“Annalane! Are you all right?” There was no mistaking her brother’s rant. “Why in the hell is this door locked? Annalane?”

McCord backed away to sit on the bed, his strength fading.

Anna opened the door. “Welcome back, Devin. Did you get all your business taken care of?”

“Never mind that—what are you doing here locked in my office with a man?”

Anna couldn’t help it—she smiled. “Learning about love and all kinds of forbidden things.”

Devin didn’t buy the answer for one minute. “Stop being ridiculous. I know you weren’t doing anything, but you must think of appearances. You might have just been doctoring a dying man, but someone…” Devin paused long enough to stare at McCord. “You don’t look that sick.”

“I’m not sick. I was shot.”

Anna could see the dislike in McCord’s eyes. If her brother knew how deadly the Ranger could be, Devin would walk more softly. She half expected even an injured McCord to stomp on her brother like he was a bug.

“He saved my life,” she said simply.

Devin threw up his hands as he paced like a windup toy. “So what does that mean? Do you think you belong to him for life now?”

McCord smiled at Anna and she forgot all about her brother.

Wynn held out his hand and she walked into his arms. Without looking at her brother, she whispered to the Ranger, “Something like that.”

He kissed her lightly. “You’re mine, Anna. You have been since I first saw you, and like it or not, I’m yours.”

She laughed. “I like it just fine.”

“What’s been going on here?” Devin yelled, but no one was listening.

Wynn kissed her, spread his hand over her hip and pulled her against him.

“This is outrageous,” Devin shouted, then added, “This is unbelievable.”

When McCord let her up for air, he said, “I’ll go get the buggy. There’s no use waiting a few days. Can you be ready in half an hour? I want you leaving with me.”

“But you’re…”

“We’ll take it slow and the captain will give us an escort to Texas.” He collected his hat and Colts, then turned back to her for one more kiss. As his lips moved away, he whispered, “Come with me, Anna.”

Devin was five feet away. Her brother seemed to be gagging on the words he’d just heard.

McCord walked out the door without even looking at Devin.

Anna started to pack. She’d need bandages and blankets for Wynn. No matter what he said, the trip would be hard on him, but she didn’t argue. She’d had enough of her brother and nothing sounded better than leaving.

Devin was still yelling and complaining about her deserting him when Cunningham helped her into the buggy. Wynn looked as strong as steel, but McCord noticed his side of the buggy had been padded with blankets.

They pulled out of the camp and headed southwest toward Texas. Everything had happened so fast, Anna just sat and tried to think. Change had always struck like lightning, but this time she’d stepped into the bolt.

Wynn didn’t say a word until the guard following them waved and turned back. All at once the world seemed wild and empty and they were alone.

She was alone, she corrected, with a man she barely knew. A man who probably hadn’t said a hundred words to her since they’d met.

All panic left when his hand closed gently over hers.

They traveled in silence until almost dark, then he stopped and led the horses to a small clearing where they had a stream for water and grass to graze. She insisted he rest while she made camp and offered him bread and dried meat from a basket one of the men said Clark insisted on putting in the back of the buggy.

Wynn looked tired as he lowered himself onto the blankets, and by the time she’d packed the food away he was sound asleep.

Anna curled up beside him and slept. At dawn she awoke to his gentle kiss.

He didn’t say a word when she mumbled something about being a mess and crossed to the other side of the buggy to straighten her clothing and wash her face with water from the canteen. After she’d combed her hair without a mirror, she faced him.

Wynn had hitched the horse and was waiting for her. He nodded a greeting as if they were little more than strangers. Neither seemed to know what to say. They climbed in the buggy and began following the ribbon of road made by wagons.

As the cloudy day cooled, he touched her leg. “We’re going to hit rain,” he said, then patted her skirts as if he thought rain might frighten her. “We’ll need to make as many miles as we can before it starts.”

They raced the weather, but by mid-afternoon the rain caught up to them. Wynn pulled the buggy beneath a stand of old cottonwood trees. They climbed out and he watched the clouds as she retrieved apples from their stash of food. When she handed him an apple, Wynn walked away from her and for one panicked moment she thought he might keep walking. He’d asked her to come with him in a hurried moment, with her brother watching. He’d been right about growing stronger, but had he changed his mind about her?

At the edge of the natural shelter, he turned around and walked back, his head down.

He didn’t say a word, but took her hand and pulled her toward a cottonwood, where the air hung still and damp and branches almost touched their heads.

Anna waited. If she had any sense, she’d probably tell him to take her back to the camp. But she didn’t want to go back. She wanted to stay with him. He was the first man in years who saw her. Not a woman alone, to be pitied. Not a battle-weary nurse. Not a sister to be passed along to someone else just because he “couldn’t afford to be picky.”

Wynn McCord
saw
her.

She glared at him now, praying he didn’t suggest they turn back.

He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back against the tree. “I need to say the words, Anna. I need to make it plain between us.”

She could barely hear him for rain and the wind and her heart pounding.

“I want you in my life.” He stopped, but didn’t let her move. “Hell!” he added. “That’s not right.”

She decided he looked like a man fighting the death penalty, but she guessed anything she said right now would not be welcomed, so she waited.

“That’s not right,” he repeated.

Tears threatened as she whispered more to herself than to him, “You don’t want me in your life?”

“No. I mean yes.” He swore. “Facing down outlaws is easier than this.” He straightened and stared at her. “You might not guess, but I don’t usually talk to a woman, any woman. So let me finish and keep your suggestions to yourself.”

Anger flared, but she held her tongue. If he told her to drop her accent, she’d clobber him right here, right now, even if he was injured.

“I don’t just want you in my life, Anna.” He started again with no softness in his tone. “You are my life. I want you with me here in Texas. In my life and in my bed until we both die of old age. I think I was a walking dead man before you came along. The war took all the caring I had in me. I don’t even know if I have enough to give you now. But I’d like to give it a try. I want to fight with you all day and make love to you all night. I want to build a house around you and have a dozen kids and stay in one place for the rest of my days. I want to stay beside you.”

Anna understood. “What about what I want?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Let go of me, McCord.”

He pushed away, looking very much like he wanted to fight for her, but the only one to fight stood before him. His eyes narrowed, as if he thought she planned to ask for more than he had to give.

“I want you.” She poked him in the chest. “Broken down, hurt, hard as nails, you’re still the best man I’ve ever known. I want you.”

A slow grin spread across his face.

She held up her hand. “But I have terms. You have to tell me you love me.”

“All right, Anna. I love you.” He circled her waist and pulled her closer. “I love every inch of you.”

“And.”

He didn’t let go of her. “I had a feeling there’d be an ‘and.’”

“You have to tell me you love me every day.”

“I’ll tell you and show you. How would that be?” He leaned down to brush his lips along her throat. “Marry me, Anna.”

She felt his hands moving over her as if there were no clothes between them.

“Marry me, Anna,” he whispered again as he cupped her breast. “I’m not alive without you.”

She never said yes. She was too lost in the kiss. When they were both out of breath, he walked her back to the buggy and they continued without a word. He’d said the words she’d needed to hear.

Wynn and Anna McCord built one of the finest cattle ranches in Texas. When she died at the age of seventy-four, her husband and four sons placed her in a grave on the ranch. The stone at her head read,
To my angel, Anna McCord. One more time, “I love you.”

Wynn McCord joined his wife less than a year later. Everyone agreed that once she’d gone he was never really alive.

The great-great-grandchildren of Anna and Wynn still work the ranch today. If you ask any of them why they always settle on the McCord land when they marry, they all say the same thing. McCords stay.

L
INDA
B
RODAY

South Texas
1883

Slender pink fingers of dawn drifted through a crack in the livery’s loft and stabbed Stoney Burke in the eye. He shifted on the bed of hay and blinked, trying to recall where he was.

He’d been in so many towns they’d blended together into a patchwork of faces and problems.

Oh yes, he recalled this unsavory one. Devils Creek.

He had a dozen reasons to avoid this place. A friend he couldn’t say good-bye to. A woman he couldn’t forgive. A memory he couldn’t erase. If he could avoid Texanna Wilder, all the better.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor in most cases.

Sooner or later he’d run into her, no doubt about it.

A heavy sigh came from deep within him. Stoney ignored his complaining bones and stood, settling his hat on his head. Then lifting the saddlebags that had served as a pillow, he slung them over his shoulder and made his way to the ladder.

Halfway down, all hell broke loose outside.

Had he run smack into a range war? Or maybe a jailbreak?

Clearing the last steps in a giant leap, he flung his saddlebags aside and ran for the door of the livery.

Chickens running loose in the street squawked angrily, flapping their wings. Dogs aired their lungs, their barking fit to raise the dead, as though they were trying to rise above the loud voices of humans. And in the midst of all the clamor and carryings-on came the pounding of hooves as the morning stage thundered into town, adding another level of chaos.

Stoney knew of the lawless ways of Devils Creek, although the town had appeared as peaceable as a widow woman’s rocking chair when he’d ridden in late last night.

Now he could’ve sworn he’d stepped into a full-scale war of some sort. A crowd formed a circle in the middle of Main Street, blocking Stoney’s view.

For a second the mob parted and shock jolted through him.

A hoarse oath sprang free before he could swallow it.

Someone had trussed up a woman like a turkey on Christmas morning. She lay in a heap in the swirling dust of the street.

His gaze hardened. The squawking chickens scattered this way and that when he stalked into their midst.

Pushing through the swarm of people, he saw that not only was a woman at the center of the attention, but a youngster clung desperately to the woman’s skirts as well. The boy’s lip quivered as he bravely tried not to cry. He lost that battle when a tear spilled and trickled down the patch of freckles on his cheek, followed by a sob.

Suddenly the boy launched himself, kicking and clawing, on the man who was attempting to drag the woman. “Leave my mama alone.”

“What in the Sam Hill!” Stoney bellowed, wrenching the man’s grip loose from the length of rope that remained after tying it around the woman’s waist. Clearly intending to flog the woman, the scoundrel didn’t see him coming. Stoney delivered a hard right hook to the middle of the well-dressed stranger’s face. The man’s narrow-brimmed bowler went flying as bones cracked under Stoney’s fist.

“You broke my nose!” The jackass grabbed his bloody face, dancing in a circle as if trying to find a safe place to light.

“That’s all I broke…for now. You’ll get more of the same if you don’t untie this woman and be quick about it.”

The man’s eyes lit on Stoney’s Texas Ranger badge and widened a bit. He seemed to have trouble swallowing, although he hadn’t totally lost his bluster. “This ain’t none of your affair, Ranger.”

Stoney set his jaw, his glare scanning the crowd. “I’m making it my business. You folks go on home.” He swung around to the scoundrel. “I said, untie the woman. Now.”

Anger reddened the fool’s cheeks. He obeyed the order even though it clearly irked him to do so.

Stoney offered the woman a hand, lifting her to her feet. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

She wrapped her arms around the young boy. “None the worse for wear, I reckon. Thanks for rescuing Josh and me.”

When she glanced up, Stoney got his second jolt of the morning and it wasn’t even high noon yet. “Texanna? Texanna Wilder?”

He groaned inwardly. Yep, fate hadn’t wasted any time.

“Stoney? Lord, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along! But I know one thing—this sorry excuse for a man would’ve had to kill me to get me to the altar.” Texanna straightened her spine. Then before Stoney could stop her, she whaled off and kicked her assailant with her high-topped boot.

“I ain’t done with you, woman.” Mr. Jackass glared, holding his leg while blood streamed from his nose. Splotches of red stained the fancy brocaded vest and white shirt. “You either, Ranger.”

The man’s hand sought the bulge in his vest pocket. If Stoney could hazard a guess the lump was a hidden derringer.

“I wouldn’t,” Stoney warned. “I’ll drop you like a sack of manure before you can get that peashooter out and aimed.”

The man reconsidered, letting his hand sag limply at his side.

“I determine when you’re finished,” Stoney continued. “And I say that’s now. Stay away from Mrs. Wilder and her son or you’ll regret that you didn’t.” Stoney slung the rope at the varmint before turning his attention to Texanna and her son. “You’re shaking. Let’s find you a place to sit down.”

Taking her arm, he led her and Josh, whom he hadn’t seen since the boy was a tiny babe, to one of the velvet couches inside the nearby Madison Hotel. Stoney removed his hat and propped it on his knee.

Tears clouded Texanna’s pale blue gaze that was like melting snow on a mountaintop. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Yep, fickle fate was having a hell of a laugh.

Stoney squirmed when she rested her hand lightly on his arm. He gently removed it and put distance between them. This meeting might’ve been unavoidable, but it needn’t get cozy. He considered saving her to be nothing but a job, nothing more than helping a frightened kitten out of a tree. He’d rescued her from Mr. Jackass. This wouldn’t turn into anything else.

He could promise that.

“I suppose you know about Sam.” Her voice quivered with emotion as she mentioned her husband.

A curt nod was his only reply.

“Did you hear how he got killed?”

“Never heard the particulars.” He felt in his vest pocket for a handkerchief and pressed it into her palm.

Texanna dabbed her tears. “Sam was gunned down in the barbershop…minding his own business.”

Stoney didn’t miss the subtle jab aimed at the Texas Rangers—and him specifically.

“Got caught in the crossfire between the customer he was shaving and a rival,” she continued. “Never stood a chance. Sam stopped wearing his pistol right after we married. Said he didn’t need it anymore.”

Likely story. Cold anger swept through Stoney. He imagined Texanna badgering Sam about the Colt the same way she kept at him until he quit the Texas Rangers. His friend might still be alive if not for that fact. But she’d thought the job, and the Colt, too dangerous for a husband of hers. And look where it got her—where it got them all.

“Heard they strung up the murderer,” he said when he trusted himself to speak civilly. “That’s some justice.”

“Doesn’t bring Sam back.”

It definitely couldn’t do that. Thickness clogged Stoney’s throat. “I meant to come and check on you. It’s just…”

“Your work keeps you busy. I know.” Texanna’s voice dropped to an anguished whisper. “I’m still trying to get used to him not being here. Six months has passed and it seems like yesterday.”

Stoney clenched his jaw, unable to picture the world without Sam in it. “What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” His voice suddenly sounded like he’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

“The rotten sort.”

Stoney focused a hard stare out the hotel door. “I’m guessing it concerns that fellow in the street?”

“Marcus LaRoach. He and Sam were half brothers. He’s trying to force me to marry him. He’s already attempted to lay claim to my undertaking and barbering businesses. Says he has Sam’s will, leaving him everything…including me. He’s lying. If Marcus has one, it’s forged. Sam wouldn’t have left a mangy dog in Marcus’s care. I’ve looked everywhere for the genuine document and can’t find it.”

“Meanwhile, you’re still trying to run the businesses?”

“Doing a fair job of it. And I’ll keep on until the law makes me give it up.”

Some Texas laws weren’t worth the paper they were written on, especially the ones concerning widows. She seemed determined though. Texanna always had a lot of gumption—he’d give her that.

“What did this LaRoach think to gain by binding you up like that?” Remembering the sight made him mad as hell. “And why did he suddenly get it in his head to make you marry him today?”

Texanna pushed tendrils of hair the color of ripe wheat away from her face. “He finally got tired of my sass, I reckon. Got all riled up. And when I kicked and tried to claw his eyes out, he tied me up and dragged me.” A wobbly smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “If I’d had Sam’s Colt handy, I’d have shot the no-good skunk.”

“Where was the sheriff while all this was going on?”

Exasperation rattled from Texanna’s mouth like the lid on a boiling pot. “That old bag of wind? He can’t handle Marcus. Whatever Marcus wants, he gets.”

“Not this time.” The brittle clip in his tone was one he reserved for hard cases and scalawags of every description.

Still clinging to his mother’s skirts, Josh sniffled and tugged at Stoney’s sleeve. “Is Uncle Marcus gonna be my daddy?”

“Nope, he’s sure not. I promise.” Not as long as he had breath in his body. No one was going to hurt Sam’s widow—despite how he felt about her—or his boy. “Your father set great store by you. He loved you more than his own life.”

“I don’t know why he had to die,” Josh said, crying.

Before Stoney knew what was happening, the boy released his mother’s skirts and crawled onto his lap. Stoney stiffened, unsure what to do. He’d never been much good with children. Didn’t know what to say to them. He tried not to notice that Josh was the spitting image of Sam. Truth was, Josh had inherited his father’s intense gaze, the quirk of his mouth, and the same stubborn tilt of his chin. Stoney’s heart clenched tight around memories. He struggled to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth while his arm encircled the small, proud back.

“I don’t know why Sam had to die either. Your father was a real good friend of mine and I’m going to look out for you and your mother. No one will make you do anything you don’t want to. All right?”

Josh gave a solemn nod, swiping his sleeve across his nose.

“Bet you take care of your mama real good.”

“I’m six and I have a real gun.”

“But you’re not allowed to use it yet, young man.” Texanna gently ruffled the top of her son’s head. “I said you could have your pa’s pistol to remember him by when you grow up. What brings you to Devils Creek, Stoney?”

“Picking up a prisoner from the jail and taking him to Menardville for trial. Got in late last night so I bedded down in the livery. Haven’t introduced myself to the sheriff yet.”

Like most women with an eye for comfort, she probably preferred him to stay in the hotel, but that wasn’t his style. He liked being able to see trouble coming.

“Don’t expect much from him. Why don’t you come and let me fix you breakfast? It’s the least I can do for an old friend. We live above the undertaker’s shop. At least for now.”

“I appreciate the invite but I don’t think that’s wise.”

“I’m not offering anything more than food,” she replied stiffly.

“Please,” begged Josh. “Eat breakfast with us.”

Stoney found he hadn’t the heart to dash the hopes of a little boy who stared at him with puppy-dog eyes. A short while later, over a plate of ham, eggs, and mouthwatering biscuits, he watched the small replica of Sam. Earlier the boy had hauled up water for his mother from the cistern in back of the undertaker shop and brought in wood for the stove. Then, for no particular reason, Josh had thrown his arms around Texanna’s waist and hugged her.

Stoney’s chest tightened. Sam would be proud of the young man Josh was growing into. If only he’d lived to see it.

Damn! There was that lump trying to block his windpipe.

Traces of Sam were everywhere in the small living quarters. Sam’s hat still hung beside the door, his boots stood near an overstuffed chair, and a pipe rested in the ashtray. It was as though Sam had just stepped out for a minute and would return.

“I haven’t had the energy to get rid of them yet,” Texanna murmured.

“What?”

Texanna pointed to Sam’s boots. “I know it doesn’t make a nickel’s worth of sense to hold on to a pair of worn-out old boots, but I can’t just pitch them out, pretend he never existed.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Do what you think best, whatever helps you cope. The devil take everyone else.”

“Mama’s looking for some important papers,” Josh piped up. “She says they’ll solve all of our troubles.”

Stoney cocked an eyebrow toward Texanna.

“The will,” she answered to his unspoken question.

“She’ll find it,” Stoney assured the boy.

Josh’s chest puffed out proudly. “I’m helping.”

Stoney stared into Texanna’s blue eyes. “I’m sure your mama appreciates it. She’s blessed to have such a fine son.”

Josh fidgeted in his chair. “Can I be excused, Mama?”

“May I,” she corrected. “Where are you off to, young man?”

The boy pulled out a bag from his pocket. “Gonna shoot marbles with Matthew an’ tell him we’re friends with an honest-to-gosh Texas Ranger like Pa was.”

“You watch out for Mr. LaRoach.” Affording the man any smattering of respect by adding “mister” to his name severely irked her, Stoney could tell, but she obviously wanted Josh to treat everyone with regard, whether deserving it or not. “Stay clear of him. He’s mad as a frog on a hot skillet.”

“I will, Mama. I ain’t ’feared a him though, with Ranger Stoney around.” Josh took his plate to the washtub and sprinted out the door, hurriedly closing it behind him.

“Do you think you oughta let Josh out of your sights?”

“Marcus won’t hurt him. He wants me, not my son. But a friendly warning, Stoney…Marcus LaRoach isn’t anyone to cross. He’ll itch to get even.” A smile replaced the serious frown. “You sure knocked the living daylights out of him today and ruined his plans.”