The Texas Ranger's Secret Read online

  Gage waved away her effort, not wanting the blanket’s coarse material anywhere near his face. After six months of suffering from the tender flesh beneath his eyes and not being able to wear a bandanna over his nose all winter, he avoided anything getting close enough to cause further pain. “I’m fine. Keep the blanket for yourself. You’re wetter than I am. You didn’t get that much on me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to soak you.” Feather Hat looked genuinely apologetic.

  “Won’t be the first time I got water thrown in my face. Besides, I was still wet from the rain.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, sir.” She wrapped the fresh blanket around her. “Just as I plan to replace the wood for Mr. Bear.”

  “Just Bear.” Gage gathered the pails and returned all but one to the stalls. The horses were calming down now that the fire was out and the haze of smoke moved higher into the rafters. “Bear and his wife, Pigeon, prefer you call them by their first names. The Funderburgs probably won’t let you repay them for the damage or they’ll make it easy for you to repair it. They’re good people.”

  “Good people deserve respect, too.” Her gaze swept to the charred wall. “I’ll make it up to them. I’ll figure out some way.”

  He didn’t know her from seed to high cotton, but the determination in her eyes impressed him. She meant business. Bear was about to get himself a new livery wall. Maybe he could lend a hand in helping her fix it.

  She seemed to be waiting for him to speak or do something and Gage wasn’t sure what. He’d been so focused on determining her odd eye color, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if this really was her true shade. Not quite honey colored, but like brand-new buckskin. Palomino pretty. Something he was glad to have a chance to see before he no longer could.

  Gage decided to clean up the mess for Bear and maybe that would give him and the lady some time to get to know each other a bit before she had to go. When he took a pitchfork and raked some of the ashes into the last pail he hadn’t returned, she tried to help by holding the pail steady and managed only to streak her cheeks and hands with soot.

  She was about the most interesting woman he’d seen in a long time. Crazy hat and tangled hair, eyes the color of his favorite kind of horse and a smell that could make a man want to stand upwind of her. This woman made some kind of first impression.

  He guessed he was like other men, favoring a pretty filly who kept up with her appearance and made him proud to walk beside her, but he didn’t care for fussy women who took preening too far and ate up a man’s time with vanity.

  As intrigued as he was by her, he needed to make sure he remembered his primary goal—to learn if she was strong willed on the inside or easily coerced.

  Feather Hat had been watching him expectantly, and finally she unwrapped the blanket and spread it over a squared-off bale of straw, then sat. After clearing her throat, she asked, “And you are?”

  So that was what she’d been waiting on. His name. Not one to apologize for anything, Gage merely said, “Newcomb.”

  She waited longer, then finally asked, “First or last name?”

  “Last.”

  “You Texans don’t talk much, do you?” She eyed him from head to toe.

  Check that question off his list about her. She hailed from another state. “Not much except when there’s something big to say. You from back east?”

  “Occasionally.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  That got his attention. What was that supposed to mean? She either was or wasn’t. “You care to be more specific?”

  “I grew up in Florida, but I tend to move around a lot. I’ve lived north, east, visited the Deep South, Georgia, and now here I am in the West, though I haven’t gotten any farther than Texas yet. Have you been here long?”

  He wouldn’t tell her much, just enough to make her feel more comfortable in revealing details about herself. “Been in town for about six weeks now. It’s got a lot to offer if you’re looking for a place to settle. You plan on sticking around or will you be moving on soon since it’s clear you like to wander?”

  “I’m here for my sister’s wedding. She’s getting married tomorrow.”

  “Oh, so you’re the one.” That explained a lot and helped set aside some of his suspicion about any connection she might have to Hodge. Still, she was the perfect type for his foe to enlist. Better keep watch over her while she stayed. Wouldn’t want her making the wrong kind of friend and not being able to leave when and if she wanted to.

  She stood, her fists knotting at her hips. “Does everyone in this town know I’m late?”

  “Most everyone, near as I can tell. You’re the source of a good many wagers over at the Twisted Spur anytime the stage is due in. They’ll be mighty disappointed to see you’ve finally arrived. You’ve made some of the fellas a pretty penny this spring.”

  “The Twisted Spur?”

  “The saloon.”

  “Just wonderful.” Her fists unknotted and her palms flung upward. “I’m already the subject of gossip and I haven’t even been here a few hours. I’ll never make friends with anybody in the ladies’ society, that’s for sure.”

  Insecurity echoed behind her anger. She wanted people to think kindly of her. From the way she talked, Gage slightly altered his first estimation of her. This woman wasn’t the sort that would easily take up with Hodge. She probably wouldn’t even visit anywhere the thief normally caroused. Still, Hodge wouldn’t let that stop him if he took notice of her and decided to make her a target or an accomplice. Stanton Hodge didn’t care what others thought of him or whom he hurt.

  Protective instincts stirred in Gage and he added one more goal to his last manhunt. If she proved as innocent as she appeared, he would make sure the man he tracked did not lure her into his conniving ways.

  “Speaking of friends, when will your sisters come after you?” Gage had expected she would have been picked up by now.

  Her palms fell back to her side. “Bear said around three o’clock. That should be anytime now, don’t you think? I can go check outside. I noticed a clock on the water tower behind the livery.”

  She headed to the door but halted when Gage’s words stopped her. “No need. They’ll probably show up after the rain stops. Might as well keep dry as you can. I’ll go ahead and light the lantern. You warm enough or you need the stove heated?”

  “I’ve had enough fire for one day myself, but if you’re cold, suit yourself. You’ll probably do a better job of getting it going than I did.”

  She sounded defeated. Something buried long ago that he hadn’t allowed himself to dig up since he was eleven years old twisted inside him. The last thing his father had ever teased him about was having gangly legs and broomstick arms, being a late bloomer.

  That day, he’d been expected to watch for signs of the lobo attacking their herd. Gage had tired from his duty and started daydreaming, writing poetry in his thoughts, losing track of time. Next thing he knew, his father screamed at him to shoot to kill. Two cows were down, his father’s leg caught and bleeding profusely in one of the traps set for the wolf. Champion tumbled in a vicious battle with the lobo, the dog’s and the wolf’s snarls jerking Gage to his feet.

  All of a sudden, a high-pitched yelp tore from Champion’s throat and he fell backward. The lobo had taken the last breath from the dog’s body.

  Gage’s broomstick arms could hardly lift that big old rifle back then, but he vowed to stop the wolf from turning on his father. He kept that vow and his gangly legs and arms managed to get his father home and his dog buried. Two weeks later, he’d buried his father beside his dog. From that day since, he’d never allowed another soul to see any sign of weakness within him.

  He couldn’t allow Feather Hat to feel defeated. There was always strength to be learned just from trying. From believing you could do something.

  “You did all right.” Not being around much of anyone but criminals, Gage didn’t give compliments easily. “Maybe next time keep your
nails clipped shorter.”

  She stared at her fingertips. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

  Gage laughed. “Is that a fancy way of telling me to mind my own business?”

  “Quick study, aren’t you?”

  “When I need to be,” he answered, noting the challenge that sparked in those Palomino eyes. He liked that kind of sass.

  “You must have a lot of skills at your disposal,” she announced.

  If her eyes had been pitchforks, they’d have been raking him from hat to spur.

  She must be trying to use one of her better skills on him now. Gage noticed that she suddenly appeared a lot prettier than a few minutes ago, or else the smoke was clearing enough to let him see her much better. Maybe it was just the amber glow of the lantern light causing her to look all soft and her hair to look fluffed up a bit. Her skin could have been carved from a pearl-colored tusk of ivory he’d once seen on a ship in Galveston.

  No matter how she’d managed to make herself more attractive, she still didn’t smell any better.

  “I’ve got a few skills,” he admitted, deciding he’d let his mind wander way too much on the subject of what he could see of her. “Which one appeals to you most?”

  “What if I said all of them?”

  Suspicion blazed inside Gage like a fire that had been kindling below the surface and suddenly flared. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he’d first believed. In his wondering about her identity, he’d never considered she might already know plenty about him. Who had told her? Hodge? “Why would you want to know what I can do?”

  “I’d like to make you a proposition, Mr. Newcomb.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “True, but you look like a man who knows how to handle himself well. You certainly showed me how to put out a fire.”

  “Desperation goes a long way in making a man think fast on his feet.”

  “It also goes a long way in making a woman think she’s found the right man to teach her a few things. I’m willing to take a chance that what I need to learn could be learned from you, and I’m willing to pay you to teach me. I have a few questions I’d like to ask, if you can spare the time.”

  He had no time to spare for anything but his pursuit of Hodge. “You’ve got me till the rain stops. So shoot.”

  * * *

  “That’s exactly one of the questions I have.” Willow had been uncertain how to proceed with her curiosity about Mr. Newcomb without his suspecting anything. She needed to learn any of his skills, his ways of thinking, how he interacted with people and why, all without disclosing anything about her pseudonym. “Can you teach me how to shoot, ride, lasso a stump and a few other Texas specialties?”

  Her boss was willing to give her a chance to straighten out the mess if she could make Will Ketchum believable. She wanted to prove she could. Maybe getting this Newcomb fellow to teach her some things would prove the answer to her dilemma.

  “Any Texan worth his salt can teach you those kinds of things. Even your sisters could. Why me?”

  Newcomb thumbed back his hat and it was then that she finally got a good look at his eyes. A knot twisted in her stomach as she tried not to stare, but she knew he heard her gasp.

  “Go ahead. Get it out of your system.” He pulled off his hat and stared back at her, challenging her to peer closer. “It took me some getting used to myself.”

  “What happened?” She wished she weren’t so curious, but the fact that he encouraged her to study his face helped her examine it more closely. A thick forest of dark lashes sheltered eyes the color of midnight with a touch of amethyst in their depths. They were so startling that the raw red welts spotting his face beneath and around each of them seemed a rude cruelty to mar his once-handsome features.

  She wanted to smooth away the welts, say a prayer over each and ask God to be merciful and remove them. But when her hand reached up impulsively, he took a step backward. She had gone too far. Her desire to help always made her make a wrong move.

  “Please tell me what happened,” she repeated, her eyes moistening with sympathy. Clearly this was an injury he’d suffered not that long ago. Some of the skin had healed, but not all. What kind of man was he that he could suffer such a tragedy and still go about his business as if nothing were amiss? He was truly braver than most she’d ever met. What had he called it, a “Texan worth his salt”?

  “Don’t do that.” His voice came gruff, his gaze targeting hers so quick that if it could have shot bullets, she’d have been stone-cold dead. “I won’t be pitied.”

  He sure was touchy. She preferred a man who had a pleasant nature and was not so quick to show his temper. That was, she would if she ever decided to spend time with another one for courting purposes.

  “That was the last thing I was thinking,” she countered. “Maybe astonishment that you weren’t afraid to show me. Certainly admiration for your being courageous enough to deal with the scars as if they didn’t take a smidgen of handsomeness away from you.”

  “So you think I’m handsome.” He lost his somber expression long enough to allow a quirk of a smile.

  Willow thought that if she hadn’t needed Newcomb so badly to help with research, she might have slapped his arrogant face. After all, he hadn’t properly introduced himself. She still didn’t know his first name, and now he was flirting with her.

  He certainly didn’t lack any confidence. She could use that characteristic to make him more believable as a Ranger. Rangers were known as men who lived by their own codes. As a reader, she found a confident hero easier to admire. Confident, not arrogant or egotistical. There was a fine difference.

  “Yes,” she conceded. “You’re handsome and unafraid. You’ve got skills and you don’t mind being honest with me. We just need to decide on a schedule that’ll work for both of us.”

  “Let’s get this straight.” He settled his hat back on his head. “You’re hiring me for something, which you haven’t yet told me what for. It’s not a problem that I’m only kind of handsome, and I’m supposed to teach you a set of skills, one of which is shooting. Does that about sum it up?”

  She gave him a thumbs-up. “We understand each other perfectly.”

  “Like I said before, your sisters could teach you everything.”

  Willow shook her head. “I want a man’s perspective. To make it believ— To learn it the way a man knows how.” She’d almost slipped up.

  “I’ll have to think about this,” he told her frankly.

  “Willow!” shouted a familiar voice from outside the livery. “Willow McMurtry, are you in there? It’s Daisy. We’re here, sis!”

  “Be right out,” she yelled in reply. “Give me just a second. Got to gather my bags and straighten up a few things in here first.”

  “Remember it’s raining,” came a less easygoing voice.

  “I’ll hurry,” she promised, hearing the impatience in Snow’s voice. Willow wondered if Bear and his wife had had any hint of the fire. Had they been able to smell it? She asked Mr. Newcomb why he thought the blacksmith hadn’t already come out to check on the odor.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain what happened. He’ll get a whiff once the rain stops. You need to go on with your sisters and get home while you can.”

  Grateful she could be in better sorts when she apologized to the blacksmith, Willow thanked Newcomb and pointed to the soiled blanket lying next to his duster. “I’ll be glad to take those with me and wash them with this one. When I return the blankets, I’ll bring back your coat, too.”

  “No need. I’ll take care of them.” He picked up the items and grabbed the one she held as he headed to the door.

  He didn’t seem eager to have reason to visit her. She didn’t know whether to be appreciative for his kindness about taking the washing off her hands or insulted that he wanted to avoid further contact with her as much as possible.

  “We’ll have to connect later on, then,” she said, “after the wedding tomorrow. Unless yo
u’re a friend of my sisters or Bass Parker, my future brother-in-law. If you’re invited to the wedding, we could visit a little at the reception. Maybe by then you’ll have a decision about working for me?”

  “I’m invited, but I’d rather talk you out of it. You’re better off finding someone else to help you.”

  Her hands clapped softly together, ignoring his attempt to dissuade her. “The reception will give us some time at least to talk further.”

  And make it easier for Snow not to fuss with her about spending time with the stranger once Daisy and Bass left for their honeymoon. If he was already a friend of the family, then Snow would consider him a proper enough acquaintance to allow him into Daisy’s home or to allow Willow to meet him in town.

  How she disliked those times when she became little sister again, treated as though she must have a protective mother hen to watch over her. Willow couldn’t wait until the day both Snow and Daisy saw her as grown and not the baby of the family. After all, she was relatively a spinster’s age.

  “Before you go, Willow—” Newcomb’s use of her name revealed he’d listened well “—I’ve got one more question before I’ll consider teaching you anything.”

  He’s truly considering it!

  Another fine trait to add to her characterization of Ketchum. Note #2: Texas men pay close attention. “And what question is that, Mr. Newcomb?”

  “We’re getting soaked out here,” barked Snow, “and it’s a long fifteen minutes home.”

  She and Snow loved each other but were as different as night and day. Being someone who preferred things calm, quiet and orderly, Snow had the hardest time putting up with Willow’s slower efforts.

  “I’ll answer you in just a minute. We forgot to turn out the lantern. I’ll be right there.” Just as she reached to grab it, Willow saw where the daddy longlegs had taken up a new home and nearly knocked the lamp over.

  “Owww, that’s hot.” She jerked her hand back but managed to keep from spilling the kerosene and setting another fire.