by Amanda Cabot
Her smile so broad it was almost a grin, Pricilla shaded her eyes with her hand and looked down the lane. A second later she tried to school her expression not to reveal her disappointment. The horse was a palomino, not Zach’s black stallion. The rider was blond, not black-haired. Instead of Zach, it was the Ranger, Lawrence Wood, who had entered the Lazy B.
Priscilla’s pulse slowed, thudding with apprehension rather than anticipation. Had the Ranger come to tell her that he’d found the Dunkler brothers? Though for months she had prayed they would be captured and hanged, now that the nightmares came less often, she went whole days without thinking of the bandits and, because of what she had learned from Zach, she no longer desired their deaths. She wasn’t certain how she’d feel if the Ranger told her he’d shot them.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He doffed his hat as he approached the porch. “You’re looking well.” The Ranger’s blue eyes were serious as they moved from her face down to her feet. Surely it was Priscilla’s imagination that they lingered on her stomach, as if searching for signs of the baby.
“Thank you. I’m feeling well.” There was no need to tell him what had happened, that she’d lost a large quantity of blood along with the baby. Mindful of her continuing weakness, Priscilla settled into one of the chairs and gestured toward the other, encouraging him to sit. “I’m surprised to see you again.” Despite everyone’s assurances that the Rangers always found their quarry, she hadn’t believed it nor had she expected him to take the time to report back to her.
“I wish I could tell you my job was done, but I can’t.” He stared into the distance as he said, “Unfortunately, I’ve had no luck in finding Jean-Michel Ladre. He’s a wily one and more dangerous than I thought at first. But I feel like I’m close to the Dunkler brothers. They’re getting careless, probably because they figure I’ve given up hunting them.” The Ranger’s lips thinned. “I won’t do that. I promise you, I will not stop until they’re brought to justice.”
Priscilla nodded. “I’ll rest easier knowing they’re in jail and can’t hurt anyone else.” For the first few weeks, all Priscilla could think of was punishing the men who’d killed her parents. An eye for an eye, or in this case, a life for a life. It had been Zach who’d spoken to her of the futility of revenge, telling her how, as a result of his time in Perote, he’d vowed to never again kill a man.
Though she’d been disbelieving at first, gradually Priscilla’s anger had subsided, replaced by the knowledge that Zach was right. Nothing could undo the damage that had been wrought. Whether Jake and Chet Dunkler lived or died, she had to live with the memories of her parents’ deaths and Zeke’s attack. If she was fortunate, those memories would continue to fade. While it was still important that the Ranger capture the bandits, the reason had changed. No longer did Priscilla seek vengeance. Instead, she wanted the assurance that no one else would suffer as she had.
“They’re scoundrels, no better than the varmints every rancher kills. They deserve to be hunted down and shot like coyotes.” Though the Ranger’s voice was filled with anger, Priscilla saw something in his eyes, something that—if she had to describe it—she would have called a haunted look. “Part of me wants to shoot them on sight, but the other part knows that no matter how vile their crimes were, they deserve a fair trial, not like . . .”
He bit off whatever he was going to say, and Priscilla sensed his discomfort. As strange as it seemed, his expression reminded her of Zach when he spoke of his time in Perote. Surely the Ranger had experienced nothing so horrible. Trying to allay his discomfort, Priscilla gave him a small smile. “It seems to me that one of the best things about being a Ranger is that you have a life of adventure. That’s what I always longed for. Although it didn’t turn out the way I had planned, adventure was one of the reasons I wanted to come West.”
The Ranger shrugged, as if dismissing her sentiments. “You may not believe me, but adventure loses its appeal after a while. At least that’s what’s happened to me. I’m thinking about leaving the Rangers once I bring the Dunkler brothers in.”
Priscilla didn’t try to hide her surprise. Though she knew he had a name, whenever she thought of the man who had rescued her, he was simply “The Ranger.” That was his identity. How could he give it up? “What will you do?”
His lips quirked in an ironic smile. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I can’t picture myself as a rancher, and I sure as shootin’ can’t imagine being cooped up in a store all day. I tell myself there has to be something I can do, but at this point, I’m not sure what it is.”
A mockingbird squawked from a nearby tree, its raucous call suggesting it had an opinion to share. Though Priscilla managed a small smile for the bird, which was hopping from one branch to another, her smile faded as she considered the Ranger’s dilemma. “I know what you mean. I keep wondering what purpose my life serves.” Both Mama and Papa had stressed that God had placed everyone on Earth for a reason.
“I’m surprised you’d say that.” The Ranger’s eyes moved toward her waist. “Soon you’ll be a mother. No matter how this baby got started, raising a child is a mighty fine purpose for a life.”
Priscilla bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. Though she hadn’t planned to tell him what had happened, there was no point in lying. Besides, if he went into Ladreville, someone might tell him. The Ranger might as well hear it from her. “There won’t be a baby. Not anymore.”
Blood rushed to his face, and he dropped his gaze, clearly embarrassed by the mention of such a personal matter. “Then there’s no reason . . .” He stopped abruptly, his face coloring again. When he spoke, he said only, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Though the words seemed perfunctory, there was no mistaking the speculative look in the Ranger’s eyes. What, Priscilla wondered, had he meant to say? There was no reason for what?
Zach was whistling as he rode into Ladreville. Today was a good day. If truth be told, most days had been good ones, starting with the afternoon he’d given Priscilla those silly wildflowers. Who would have believed that a few well-past-their-peak Indian blankets and verbenas would have made her so happy? All he’d hoped for was to add a bit of pleasure to her life. Instead, it appeared that the flowers had been a turning point. She had been visibly happier since that day, and he . . . he was happier too.
Zach looked up at the sky. It was another of those beautiful May mornings that made a man glad he was alive. Far from marring the scene, the puffy clouds that drifted slowly across the sky served to highlight the faultless blue. It was a day to celebrate life, and Zach did, though his heart was still saddened by the loss of the baby.
Though he had said little to Priscilla, not wanting to increase her sorrow, Zach had mourned the death more deeply than he’d thought possible. He didn’t know when or how it had happened, but the prospect of raising a child had changed from a duty he had assumed into something he had anticipated with great joy. Like Clay, who found immense happiness in being a father to Thea, Zach had looked forward to being a father to Priscilla’s child. This time, he had resolved, he would not repeat his youthful mistakes. He would be a father, a good father. But the chance had been taken from him, and he knew it would not be repeated.
Though Zach wanted nothing more than to make Priscilla his wife in deed as well as word, that would not happen. The damage the bandits had wrought was too extensive. Even though she was more comfortable around him, Priscilla was always careful to keep a distance between them. It would take a miracle for her to welcome his touch and a double miracle for her to willingly touch him.
Zach frowned, then forced his lips to curve upward. There was no point in railing at something he could not change. Instead, he would rejoice in Priscilla’s recovery and the knowledge that her spirit was healing as well as her body.
Michel Ladre was not smiling. Though Zach greeted him amicably when he met him on the street in front of the post office, the mayor scowled. “What do you mean it’s a good day? I’ve seen better.” Michel gestured to
ward the building that held his office and the town’s one jail cell on the first floor, his residence on the second. “Might as well come in. I trust you not to gossip, but I can’t say that about the rest of Ladreville.”
Zach remained silent until they were both seated, knowing from experience that Michel did not like to be interrupted. “I wish that Ranger would mind his own business,” the town’s founder muttered as he took the chair next to Zach.
Zach tried to mask his surprise. Though he’d been in this office numerous times, this was the first time the mayor had sat anywhere other than behind his desk. Still, the seating arrangement was trivial compared to Michel’s words. “Lawrence Wood was here?” Zach’s spirits soared when he remembered that the Ranger had promised to return after he’d captured the Dunkler brothers. The news that they were behind bars would reassure Priscilla and accelerate her healing.
Michel nodded. “He was here, all right, poking around, asking questions about my son. He never finds anything, because there’s nothing to find, but he sure does worry my wife.”
Zach did not share the mayor’s belief in his son’s innocence. The night he and Clay had caught Jean-Michel robbing a house had convinced Zach that Jean-Michel was not a petty thief but a dangerously disturbed young man.
“Horse thievery is a serious accusation in Texas.”
Michel pounded the desk. “That’s not all that confounded Ranger is accusing my son of.” He glared at Zach. “And, no, I won’t tell you what he said today. It’s all lies. But thanks to his lies, Jeannette is heartbroken. She says she can’t hold her head up in public. She thinks everyone will point fingers.”
It appeared the mayor’s wife felt the way Priscilla had a few months ago and feared that she would be shunned for something she had not done. Zach gave Michel the same counsel he’d shared with Priscilla. “I can’t believe the townspeople would be so cruel.” When Michel looked dubious, Zach added, “They respect you.”
“Do they, or do they simply fear me?” The question surprised Zach. Introspection was not something he’d ever associated with the town’s mayor. Michel was charismatic, opinionated, occasionally domineering, but introspective? Not that Zach had seen.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently,” Michel admitted, “and I’m not proud of what I learned. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“We all have.” Zach certainly had. “That’s the unfortunate part of being human.”
Michel stared at the wall where his prized maps of the Old Country hung. “Jeannette thinks we need to leave Ladreville. I’m beginning to agree with her.”
Though he’d mentioned that once before, Zach had thought it nothing more than a passing fancy. “If you left, we wouldn’t have a mayor, or a sheriff, for that matter.”
Michel’s shrug telegraphed his lack of concern. “The town will find someone.” He turned to look at Zach. “Why not you? You’d make a good mayor.”
It was a morning for surprises. “Me? Never. Two ranches are enough for me.”
“Two ranches and a wife.” Michel nodded slowly. “Looks like you’re wiser than I was. You’re sensible enough that your wife won’t feel neglected.”
“I hope not.”
As he headed back to the Lazy B, Zach thought about Michel’s words. He didn’t want Priscilla to feel neglected. Though he came home early whenever he could, managing both ranches took a lot of time, and more days than not, he was late returning to the Lazy B. His one day of rest was Sunday. Zach smiled. That was the answer. Even though he couldn’t change the weekdays, he would make Sunday a special day for Priscilla. Zach’s smile turned to a grin as he remembered their picnic among the bluebonnets. The flowers were gone, but the spot was still beautiful. That’s what he’d do. He’d arrange a Sunday picnic.
Zach was still grinning when he crossed the river and saw a rider approaching. Recognizing the Ranger’s palomino, he reined in Charcoal and greeted the man.
“I just left your ranch,” Lawrence said. “I wanted to tell Miss Morton . . . er, Mrs. Webster . . . that even though I haven’t caught them yet, I’m getting closer to the Dunkler brothers.”
You haven’t caught them? Then why are you hanging around here instead of chasing them? Zach bit back the angry words. The Ranger was a good man; he knew that. From all that he’d heard, Lawrence Wood was one of the best of that elite group known as the Texas Rangers. If he was in Ladreville, he had a reason. There was no cause for Zach to bristle, even though he hadn’t liked the man’s tone when he’d spoken Priscilla’s name. The fact that the Ranger’s voice changed, that it sounded almost tender when he’d pronounced her name, shouldn’t bother Zach any more than the fact that the man appeared to have forgotten, at least momentarily, that Priscilla was married. “Where are the bandits?” Zach demanded.
“They were last spotted near New Braunfels. Folks there said they heard Chet say something about the Hill Country. I wanted to head them off. No point in letting them get too close to Miss . . . Mrs. Webster.” There it was again, that hesitation. Zach clenched his fists. “I haven’t seen any signs, though.” Lawrence concluded his explanation.
“Does Priscilla know you thought they were coming this way?”
“No.” Lawrence shook his head. “I didn’t see any reason to alarm her, especially since it appears it was a red herring.”
“That’s good. I don’t need to tell you that my wife has already suffered too much.” Zach didn’t miss the way the Ranger flinched when he referred to Priscilla as his wife. It was the first time Zach had called her that in Lawrence’s hearing. He liked the way it sounded. What he didn’t like was the Ranger’s reaction. It appeared Zach’s instincts had been correct and the man harbored tender feelings for Priscilla. Zach couldn’t blame him. His wife was a beautiful, loveable woman. A man would have to be blind not to see that. The question was, how did Priscilla feel? Though she almost never spoke of the Ranger, it was possible she regarded with favor the man who’d saved her from Zeke Dunkler. Zach tried to dislodge the lump that settled in his throat when he considered that that might be the reason Priscilla had suggested they annul their marriage.
“I hope you’ll send us a message when you do capture the Dunklers.” Zach picked up the reins, signaling the end of the conversation.
“That’s one message I’ll deliver in person.”
And that was exactly what Zach feared.
“I’m so glad you suggested this.” Priscilla arranged her skirts as she settled on the quilt. Though the bluebonnets had faded, the small clearing where she and Zach had picnicked the first time was still beautiful. Today, mindful of the sun’s warmth, they’d spread the quilt under the trees. Zach sat on the opposite corner, his back against a large oak.
“It was a wonderful idea, coming back here, but I could have cooked.” Priscilla opened the basket and pulled out the food Martina had prepared. Despite her protest, she had been touched by the fact that Zach had gone to so much trouble to plan the day, even asking Clay and Sarah’s housekeeper to provide food. Like the wildflower bouquet Zach had given her, today’s picnic warmed Priscilla’s heart with the realization that he thought of her when they were apart. That was just one of the reasons she smiled so often.
Zach shrugged as he accepted a plate of cold ham and beans. “You can cook next time.”
Next time. Priscilla liked the sound of that. She knew that every time he came home early, though it was the highlight of her day, something was not getting done on the ranch. That could not continue indefinitely. She also could not expect Zach to spend all day Sunday with her. After church and dinner with the family, Papa had retired to his study, declaring he needed time alone. Zach probably longed for solitude too, but it appeared that he was willing to forego it for her. Priscilla smiled again.
Zach reached for the bowl of potato salad. “I want to be certain you’re completely recovered.”
She was getting better, and that was part of the problem, for with the renewal of her strength came bored
om. “I feel better every day. I’m stronger now, just empty.”
Zach’s eyes were serious as he nodded. “I imagine that’s normal. What you need is something to occupy your time.”
He’d given her the perfect opportunity to broach a subject that had occupied her thoughts. “Granny Menger suggested I become her assistant.” Ever since the midwife had suggested it, Priscilla had been mulling the idea. Though she still feared that watching another woman give birth might arouse painful memories, those fears were fading. Granny was right; helping others might help Priscilla, but she didn’t want to make the decision without consulting Zach, for it was not only her life that would be altered.
Zach took a swallow of buttermilk to wash down the potato salad before he spoke. When he did, his voice rang with enthusiasm. “That’s a great idea. I know it’s not exactly what you dreamed of, but it seems to me being a midwife is almost like being a doctor.”
It was, and being a woman would be an advantage, not a barrier. That was the good part. “If I did agree, I’d be gone at odd times.” That was the bad part. “Babies come on their own schedule, so I wouldn’t always be home to cook supper.”
Zach looked down at his plate and grinned. “Just keep some cans of beans in the cupboard. I’ve lived on less.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind?” It certainly didn’t seem as if he did, but Priscilla had to be certain. Even if they shared a house for only a few more months, she wanted those months to be as happy as possible for Zach.
He shook his head. “Why would I mind? I want you to be happy. If working with Granny Menger brings you happiness, I won’t complain about an occasional evening without my wife.”
