Ranger's Wild Woman

by Tina Leonard

  “She was crying over a man?” Ranger asked incredulously. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, positively. She spilled the whole story about him. Boy, he really broke her heart.”

  “What a butthead,” Ranger said hotly. “She deserves better than someone who’s careless with her feelings!”

  Cissy pulled a file out of her bag and began filing her nails. “I know. That’s precisely what I told her. That’s when she said she was going to Mississippi, and I said I could use a change of scenery, and presto-chango, here we are. Kind of funny how life works, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. All except the crying part.” It really bothered him that some boob had made Hannah cry. He resolved right then and there to be nicer to her. She was such a fragile little thing, always acting tough-enough, like a pullet in a chickenyard, but he knew better now, thanks to Cissy. Hannah was tenderhearted underneath that spicy attitude and paprika-tipped hair. Why, he just wanted to hug her to him and keep her safe and protect her from all the louses on the planet—

  Giggles ripped from the back seat, and Hannah squealed as Archer grabbed her, wrestling her like a dogie to the seat. Cards flew, dice rolled, and something that looked like a sandal flew through the air. That was all Ranger’s ping-ponging, bug-eyed vision could see in the rearview mirror.

  But whatever was going on back there, his twin and that sweet tenderhearted pullet were having one yahoo of a good time.

  “Archer!” Hannah screamed, her voice delighted with laughter. “Stop!”

  It was a full-blown ticklefest in the back seat, and from the sound of it, Hannah was on the happily losing end.

  In the front seat, Cissy glanced at him without ceasing her filing. “Let me know if I can help you. When you decide to make your move, that is.”

  “There’s going to be no move,” Ranger said from between gritted teeth. “At least, not from me.”

  Cissy nodded. “Fear of failure?”

  “No.” He glared at her. “Fear of the Curse of the Broken Body Parts.”

  “Which is?”

  “My brother Frisco fell for Annabelle Turnberry. He got a broken leg. Laredo got concussed when he fell for Katy Goodnight. I’ve kissed both of you. That actually puts fear into me. There could be two broken body parts waiting for me. No, it’s not fear of failure that sends me down the road, Cissy. It’s healthy self-respect and self-preservation.”

  “You look fine to me so far. One piece, nothing missing. Nothing except a little spine, maybe. Just maybe. A small piece that could be mildly fractured and waiting for repair.”

  “Not a durn thing wrong with my spine, thanks.”

  “It’s pretty obvious you feel something for her, Ranger,” Cissy said softly.

  “I feel protective. I feel brotherly. But nothing romantic, I assure you.”

  “Okay. But let me make certain I understand this. You’ll know when love hits you by the amount of pain you suffer? Emotional masochism visited on the body in physical form?”

  “To put it in my terms, doctor, if something breaks, I’ll know it’s the real thing.”

  The giggling in the back seat subsided for the moment. Ranger decided they’d used up their oxygen share back there.

  “Of course it could be your heart that gets broken,” Cissy said absently. “Which would be metaphoric, not a physical manifestation. And what would that tell you?”

  “Nothing,” he said as his eyes searched the rearview mirror. He couldn’t see a thing because of the darkness, but that didn’t stop him from trying to see. It had gotten too quiet in the back seat.

  “Where are we, anyway?” Cissy asked.

  “A few hours east of Lonely Hearts Station, but probably a couple more hours from the state line. Desert.” Ranger peered into the darkness. “The wind has picked up so much it’s blowing sand against the windshield.” Turning on the windshield wipers, he tried to clear the dirty glass.

  “Where are we going to sleep?” Hannah suddenly asked, leaning over the seat to eye him.

  “Sleep?” Well, that was something he hadn’t thought about. When he’d left this morning, he’d figured on sleeping in his truck. He hadn’t planned on riders. Women. “I don’t think there’s a hotel anywhere around here. We’re pretty far into the desert, I think. There haven’t been any signs for miles.”

  The thought of the four of them sleeping in the truck was unappealing, particularly as Archer would no doubt enjoy sleeping with Hannah more than Ranger would enjoy sleeping behind the steering wheel. Once again, Ranger felt an annoying spurt of jealousy heat the top of his head. “I’ll stop here and let you stretch your legs. Archer, if I can borrow my flashlight, I’ll check the map and see where we are.”

  Pulling down a deserted lane, Ranger switched off the truck.

  “I’m too tired to stretch my legs,” Hannah said. “I could go to sleep this second.”

  “Here. Lay your head acquí.” Archer put a pillow in his lap and pointed for Hannah to lie down.

  Ranger didn’t think she would—and then, she did just that. It was as if she never gave a second’s thought to what was lying beneath Archer’s innocent pillow. Ranger’s eyes practically popped from his skull. Glancing at Cissy, he caught her shrug.

  “You still seem to be in one piece,” she whispered as Archer sang Hannah a lullaby. “Guess you were right. She means nothing to you.”

  “Damn right.” He ripped the map from the glove compartment and stared at it with the flashlight’s dimming beam. “The two of you wore this flashlight out with all your hijinks,” he groused, but no one answered. “Dang, that’s a lot of wind,” he said, glancing up to peer at the window. “I think we’re in a sandstorm.”

  “That sucks,” Archer said, his voice sleepy. “I’m hungry.”

  “You can reach through the back window and grab something out of the cooler,” Ranger said. “I can’t tell where we are, but it’s nowhere close to civilization, I’m afraid.”

  “If you wait a little while, maybe the wind will quit blowing,” Cissy said. “I’ll take a snack, if you don’t mind, Archer.”

  To Ranger’s relief, Hannah popped right up and off Archer’s lap. “I’ll get you something, Cissy.” Poking her arm through the window, she pulled back quickly. “Wow! That feels like a thousand needles hitting my arm!”

  “Let me do it. I’ve got sleeves.” Archer leaned up and snagged a bag from out of the cooler, shoving the lid back on quickly. “Pretty smooth, huh?” he said to Hannah.

  “Yeah. Like you made good grades in Grabbing Stuff from the Truckbed 101.” She peeked into the bag before glancing up at Ranger. “Twizzlers?”

  “That’s my kind of snack,” he said. “Twizzlers and beef jerky. Nothing better.”

  “And tequila to wash it down,” Archer said, happily examining the contents of a brown bag he pulled from underneath Cissy’s seat. “Safe as a baby in a bank vault.”

  “Whatever,” Ranger said sourly. “Grab the plastic cups from underneath my seat and pour, Archer.”

  The scent of tequila filled the truck. Archer handed Ranger a plastic cup full of sweet clear liquid. “Driver first, since we’re parked for a while. Good limo-ing, dude.”

  Ranger raised his cup. “Here’s to new beginnings. For all of us.”

  Archer swiftly poured for the rest of them. They raised their cups and clacked them against each others. The men swallowed their tequila in a gulp, while Cissy and Hannah sipped at theirs more gingerly.

  “Now,” Ranger said with a satisfied sigh. “I’m a new man. And I’m ready to beat you at strip poker, Miss Hotchkiss.”

  Surprise made Hannah hesitate for only a split second, then she pulled out her cards with a sly smile. “I fancy your shirt, Mr. Jefferson.”

  “I fancy yours, as well.” And he fancied her jeans and her bra and her panties off her little body—but that was a fantasy for later. One day when they were alone, and he’d tamed her, and she liked it, and being naked for him was her only desire in life, then he’d win
her panties right off her heart-shaped bottom and drink her like this tequila. He poured himself more tequila for bravery.

  He was going to make Archer wear a blindfold. And then when Ranger won her shirt, he was going to be the happiest man on earth. The fantasy would start tonight, and it would drift like a fairy tale, page by page, day by day, article of clothing by article of clothing. Oh, yeah.

  The tequila was warming him, making him un-wrinkle. He stared at his cards, then at Hannah, who was watching him with a crook in her tricky blond brows. She didn’t look as though her hand of cards was all that swift. Ah! Sweet victory was his! “Pour me another, Archer,” he said with growing confidence. “Tonight is going to be my night!”

  Chapter Four

  Ranger awakened slowly. He felt odd. His eyes didn’t want to open and his skin seemed strangely cold.

  Very cold. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself awake and took stock of his body.

  He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

  He was in a jigsaw shape, stretched out in the two front seats, his body wrapped around the armrests and the console. It was the most uncomfortable position he’d ever been in. His body complained, telling him enough was enough.

  Uncreaking himself to a sitting position, he looked into the back seat. Archer was in the middle, Hannah and Cissy curled up on either side of him, heads on his shoulders. Archer had an arm around each woman, and they looked warm and toasty as mice in a barn in winter. Completely snug.

  They were all fully dressed.

  Ranger’s mood, sour yesterday, fermented to acidic. He didn’t remember getting blammo’ed, but clearly he’d been that and lost at strip poker. Even nearly nude, he hadn’t had a woman crawling up next to him. Which wasn’t how his life usually went, and the problem was obviously Archer. It wasn’t enough that his twin had to stow away on Ranger’s mission of finding himself. Archer had to hog the women, too. The women Ranger had kissed.

  And they’d deserted him for the comfort of the back seat.

  Hannah could at least have pretended that Archer wasn’t the best pillow since goosedown. She’d said she fancied Ranger’s shirt. Well, she was sitting on it, a winner’s taunt. His jeans were under Archer’s boots, and his socks were just plain gone. “Why bother to stop at my shorts?” he groused. “Pity? Don’t like black?”

  Turning, Ranger faced the windshield. Sand still flogged the truck, telling him he was in for a good whisking if he stepped outside. But nature was calling, and he probably had enough tequila inside him to blunt the pain. There was no point in getting dressed, he decided. The sand would just lodge in his clothes. Better to get dressed once he was safe inside the truck again. He could dust off his body after he made the world’s quickest pit stop.

  Carefully opening the door just far enough for him to slide out, he hopped onto the ground, his bare feet landing onto something possessed of a million sharp needles.

  “Yow-ee! Ai-eeee!” Jumping to get away from whatever the hell he’d stepped on, he tumbled downward, hitting rocks and weeds and unidentified things as gravity cruelly grabbed control of his world to dump him at the bottom of an abyss.

  He was flat-assed. “I’m dying. I’m dead!” he gasped dramatically to the sky. “Deader than dinosaurs. Damn it, I’ve landed in hell!”

  It was dark, it was cold, and it was very, very painful. His mouth and nose were full of sand; his skin was being burned by flying grains of fire. He had to find cover. And there was no way he could get back up to his truck—he’d rolled ass-over-ass forever. Pulling himself to a sitting position, shielding his eyes, Ranger realized he was in front of a stone enclosure. Dragging himself to the stone wall, he dismissed thoughts of bears and snakes. That type of danger was secondary to his bodily anguish. The enclosure turned into a cave, and he gladly fell inside, gasping from pain and fear and overwhelming loss of control.

  Ranger knew, as he felt consciousness seep away from him and his breath cut short in his body, somehow, he was dying because of Hannah Hotchkiss.

  “I’M DOWN FOUR MEN,” Mason complained to Mimi as he perched uncomfortably in her kitchen. Sheriff Cannady was upstairs napping, Mimi had said, and Brian was running errands. “Frisco Joe, Laredo, Archer and Ranger.”

  “I’m sure Brian would be willing to help, when he returns,” Mimi said.

  “Can’t do that to a man who’s still honeymooning.” The second he said it, he felt his face flush. Honeymoon and Mimi were two words he really didn’t want connected in his consciousness.

  He’d known Brian was gone—he’d seen the sports car leave. Brian was a nice man—under other circumstances Mason might have hired the lawyer himself—but the miserly courage he’d worked up was close to failing him.

  It was all he could do to make himself bring over this belated wedding gift. Facing Mimi was pain and pleasure. He was so glad to see her—and he was so ripped inside. She was more beautiful than ever. “Marriage agrees with you,” he said gruffly.

  She glanced at him, startled, hesitating as she pulled the tissue from the silver-and-white bag that encased his gift.

  A long silence stretched between them as her eyes searched his. Why had he said that? His brothers said she’d always wanted to marry him. Not Brian. Not any man but him. But he hadn’t even been able to comprehend marriage, much less to Mimi. And yet, not to anyone else but Mimi. His comrade-in-clowning. His best friend. His sister.

  Marriage? Had she really wanted to marry him? Was she in love with him? He had to know.

  And yet, the time to ask had passed. He saw that as her gaze dropped from his. She pulled the silvery tissue from the bag and smiled at his gift. It was a framed picture of her and all twelve Jefferson brothers, taken last summer when everything had still been normal. The men were dressed in jeans, hats and no shirts. Mimi wore jeans, a hat and a blue-and-white-checked blouse tied at her waist. There were six brothers on each side of her, but she was standing next to Mason, his arm around her waist as they all grinned proudly.

  “I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you so much.”

  “There’s a gift certificate in there to the place where you registered your bridal stuff. I didn’t know what you wanted most.”

  His fingers worked the brim of his hat; he couldn’t meet her gaze. He was in hell.

  He’d bought the ticket there himself.

  “Speaking of honeymoons, I have a huge favor to ask of you.” Mimi sat across from him at the table, her expression worried.

  “Shoot.” He could deny her nothing. Now, anyway.

  “I know you’re down on hands, but…Brian and I didn’t take a real honeymoon. We got married and decided to plan the other details later.”

  He hadn’t realized they hadn’t honeymooned. He’d been too buried in a frozen mask of pain to pay attention. “I knew you got married fast.”

  “Yes. Very fast.” She took a deep breath. “I really want this to work out, Mason.”

  His heart burned, but of course, she had no idea of his newfound realization of love for her. She knew she’d been his best friend. She would expect to be able to share what was on her mind now.

  He’d buck up and offer the shoulder she seemed to need. “I know you want it to work, Mimi. You’d not have married Brian if you hadn’t expected it to be forever.”

  She nodded. “I think the best thing we can do for our marriage is to spend time alone together. Brian hasn’t asked me for it, because—” Glancing up at the ceiling, almost as if she could see through to the second floor, she said, “Well, he’s just been so patient with me. But it’s not fair to him.”

  Mason was lost, but he nodded to show he was listening.

  “I’ve decided we need that honeymoon. So I’ve planned a trip to Hawaii for us.” A shy smile lit her lips. “I’ve even bought a couple of bikinis.”

  Fire shot through his entire body. Hell colored his heart. “You’ll be the prettiest honeymooning gal in Hawaii, Mimi,” he forced himself to say.

  She r
eached to put her hand over his. “It’s a lot to ask of you right now, Mason, but could you keep an eye on Dad?”

  He started to chuckle and say that it ought to be the other way around. Sheriff Cannady should be keeping the eye on him—but the seriousness in her blue eyes shut his mouth instantly.

  “We’ll only be gone a week, and if you could check in on him from time to time—”

  “It’s done, Mimi. It’s no trouble, and it’s done.”

  “We leave tomorrow night. Brian will be home tonight, and I’m going to surprise him with it. I mean, he knows we’re going on a trip, but—”

  Mason shook his head, realizing he was about to hear more personal details than necessary. Clearly, Mimi was feeling very anxious about her new marriage and eager to please her new husband. “You don’t have to tell me a thing. Whatever you need is yours.” He put his hat on his head, leaning down to kiss her cheek. The scent of roses touched his nose, and he thought about the days when the two of them were childhood friends.

  Now they were adults. “You have a wonderful time,” he told Mimi. “You and that new husband of yours deserve every happiness.”

  She smiled gratefully, but not with the elation a new bride should be wrapped in. Maybe the honeymoon would ease her mind. He would pray for that.

  Mason left the kitchen, letting the screen door close quietly behind him.

  INDIAN TOTEMS FLOATED around him, colorful and yet faded. Primitive drawings illustrated the beauty of emotion and life inside his mind. No, the totems and drawings were outside his mind. Ranger came to in a sweaty fog, realizing someone sat beside him, cross-legged. “Hey, I know you,” he said to the apparition. “I saw you in The Last of the Mohicans. You’re the Native American that got stabbed and tossed over the cliff. Your wife was none too happy about that, by the way.”

  The dark-skinned man raised a brow. “You have a fever,” he said quietly. “You’ve been hallucinating.”

  “You’re real.”

  “Yes, but these are the first coherent words you’ve spoken. At least, reasonably coherent.”