Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Texas Ranger's DaughterHaunted by the Earl's TouchThe Last De Burgh

by Jenna Kernan

  Boon moaned and his eyes fluttered. She gazed down at him, knowing he had taken the blow that should have been hers.

  “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead,” she whispered.

  Her father squatted beside her. Did he think she would have been better off dead than to have come back to him in shame?

  “Men got ways of taking what they want.”

  She could scarcely whisper the words. “But he didn’t take me, Papa. I gave myself to him.”

  She could not look at him, could not bear to see the disappointment there in his cool blue eyes.

  “He’s an outlaw, Laurie. And he took advantage of you.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “A rustler, a thief.”

  Laurie kept her chin tucked and her head down as she spoke. “Then why did you send him?”

  “Only choice. I wanted you alive.” His mustache twitched as he said it. “So I sent him.”

  So Boon was right, Laurie realized. Her father had used him.

  “Then he did as you asked.” She looked down at Boon’s bloody face. “And this is his reward.”

  She stared up at her father, wondering if she knew him at all.

  Her father growled and stood up, calling to Coats. “Call two men to carry him into the station.” Then he turned to Laurie. “You best hope you are not with child.”

  Her father walked away.

  Laurie sat beside Boon with her mouth open, one hand holding the cloth to his cheek, wondering why the possibility of a baby no longer filled her with horror, but with a tiny twinkle of hope. She knew what Boon was. She also knew that her father could not have done better. Boon was impressed into the outlaws’ gang the same way she was impressed into a situation with Anton. It wasn’t his fault. She lifted her head. And it wasn’t her fault, either.

  She understood that now. And this time, with Boon, was different because she had wanted it. So she’d take the consequences, whatever they were. Having a baby, Boon’s baby, would not be a shame, at least not to her.

  It might be the first good thing to happen to her in years.

  Convincing her parents of that would be another matter. Laurie placed one hand upon her belly and gathered herself for the approaching storms.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Laurie knew there was something wrong with Boon when he didn’t rouse even when she bathed his face with cold water. The Rangers found an old blue Studebaker wagon in the stable and loaded Boon in the back.

  She elected to ride in the box of the wagon, behind the driver, mules and entire escort of Texas Rangers. Her father left three Rangers behind to bury the dead and one to wire Valencia about her daughter’s safe return.

  The old stage road was relatively good and they made thirty miles an hour, but by sundown they were less than half the distance to San Antonio. The Rangers made camp. Laurie stayed with Boon in the wagon, coaxing him awake enough to drink some black coffee.

  She checked his wounded arm, seeing that the Rangers had only bandaged his injury with a dirty neckerchief. Had they heard nothing of Pasteur’s germ theory? At the very least, his wound merited cleaning with soap and water. She washed him, seeing that the neat slice of Hammer’s blade had cut a four-inch gash along his arm. The edges now looked pink and the muscle below had been exposed. She’d bandaged him with the clean cloth, laid a cold compress on his forehead and waved off the flies that tried to land on the cut upon his cheek.

  She felt like herself again, before girls’ school and lessons on deportment. She was useful again and capable. She drew in a long breath and let it go. There was something to be said about being who you are.

  Her father prepared her a bedroll, which she accepted but abandoned when the men were asleep, to return to Boon.

  Her father had hit him hard, too hard. Laurie understood that violence was a part of her father. His rougher side was what made him good at his job, but seeing the results of her father’s brutality made her wonder if he was any better than Boon. Perhaps the difference between them wasn’t so great after all, only the difference of a peso star.

  Why wouldn’t Boon wake? She brushed her fingers over his brow and Boon stared up at her.

  “Boon?” Something about his eyes didn’t look quite right. “Are you awake?”

  He looked at her with a serious expression, his eyes glassy.

  “Are you sad, Laurie? Even after I brung you home to them? Are you still sad?”

  The tears began to flow. She did not trust her voice, so she nodded in a jerking motion as her chin trembled in her effort to hold back the weeping.

  “Why you still sad, Laurie-gal?” His hand reached for her but he couldn’t keep it steady and he missed her cheek by several inches.

  She captured his hand and wove her fingers through his, bringing them to her damp face and kissing his knuckles. And that was when she felt the unnatural heat of his skin, the dry, frightening heat of fever. She gasped as she stared down at him.

  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let them take you,” he whispered, looking up at her.

  Was he still back there, riding for their lives? She closed her eyes wishing she could return to their waterfall, safe and hidden from the real world.

  “We’re safe, Boon,” she whispered, stroking one hand over his forehead as she held his other hand to her cheek.

  His voice was hushed and his eyes wide. “Safe?”

  “Yes. We’re going home.”

  He grinned as if she had said something funny. “Ah, Laurie, I don’t have a home.”

  She felt a stab of remorse for him and all he had not had and then wondered if her parents might put her out. It wasn’t unheard-of, to renounce a wayward wife or daughter. What would become of her then?

  “Oh, Boon. I am so frightened.”

  He stared up at her. “I’ll protect you, Laurie. I’ll always protect you.”

  His eyes fluttered shut and she could not rouse him again. She unbuttoned his shirt and used the cloth to bathe his chest, neck and face. She worked through the night, catching herself dozing sitting up beside him.

  “Laurie?”

  She startled awake, glancing down at Boon, but he still slept his feverish, restless slumber. She looked around to see her father standing beside the buckboard.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands before facing him again.

  “Boon has a fever.”

  “I’ll send someone to tend him.”

  She didn’t argue, but neither did she leave him as the camp broke with the dawn. Laurie bathed him until they reached San Antonio, at which time her father insisted she sit properly in the wagon box beside Murdock.

  As soon as they were within the town limits her father directed them to a home, one of its shingles pronouncing a Dr. Archie P. Langor in residence.

  Boon was carried into one of the treatment rooms.

  Laurie tried to follow but her father blocked her entrance, pointing to a bench in the reception room.

  “Wait there,” he ordered, and shut the door in her face.

  Laurie stood staring at the door weighing her options. Finally she did as he bid her. After a silent eternity, her father and the doctor emerged, blocking her view of the room beyond.

  Dr. Langor wiped his hands on a clean towel and then threw it over his left shoulder like a waiter.

  “Stitched him up with silk thread. Going to have to watch for infection for a day or two. He is far from out of the woods. The boy has lost a lot of blood and his fever is still high.”

  “Who will look after him?” Laurie asked.

  “Not you,” said her father.

  Dr. Langor intervened. “Does he have family?”

  “No,” sa
id Laurie.

  “Then I’ll put him up in a boardinghouse where he can get care.”

  “He can come with us. I will see to him.”

  “No,” declared her father. “You’ll not be caring for that young buck anymore.” His father turned his back on her, facing the doctor now. “You send me the bill, Doc. Glad to pay it.”

  She stood, wringing her hands. She knew she should stay silent. But her reputation suddenly seemed less important than Boon’s welfare.

  “He brought me to safety and we are not foisting him on strangers.” She had no idea where she found the courage to say any of it, but she stood there on shaky ground as her father blinked in astonishment. He looked as if he did not recognize his own daughter. “Papa, Boon saved my life. We owe him a debt of gratitude.”

  Her father glanced at the doctor and then lowered his chin and glared, telling her without words that he wasn’t happy about airing dirty laundry in public. “Let me be clear. The doc here gets that boy back on his feet and back in the saddle. Then he rides away.”

  Laurie swallowed hard. Boon understood, even back then, that her father had no intention of keeping him as one of his men and that his yearning to be a Ranger was just a pipe dream. Why hadn’t she?

  Laurie simmered like a teakettle about to boil. It wasn’t fair. Boon was a good man who had made a hard choice to stay alive. While Anton was a bad man who had made the easy choice and become a Ranger. Laurie glared at her father, knowing that if she fought him now, Boon would receive no further care.

  “Laurie?” There was menace in her father’s voice.

  Laurie crumbled like week-old bread. She folded her hands and nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

  “That’s my girl.” He patted her arm.

  Why did she feel like a mouse scampering for cover?

  “Dr. Langor?” she asked. “Is there anything wrong with his mind, from the blow to the head, I mean?”

  “Can’t tell yet.” He lifted his fingers and ticked off a list. “Bleeding, wound, fever and then we’ll see about the rest.”

  Her father thanked the doctor and escorted Laurie out, making their way, on foot, to a hotel near the rail depot, where he rented a suite of rooms.

  “Nobody knows you were captured. Your mother wired me when she discovered you left and I got you back safe, if not sound.” He stared at her middle pointedly. “So you keep quiet about where you been. That’s what your mother would advise, I’m certain. She’s big on a woman’s reputation. Seems that didn’t rub off on you.”

  Laurie forced her shoulders back and continued to walk, even though she felt as fragile as a dried leaf.

  “I’ll wire your ma that I’ll be putting you on a train tomorrow.”

  It seemed he could not be rid of her fast enough. But Laurie was no longer the girl he remembered or the woman she had sought to become. Despite her mother’s lessons on etiquette, her ordeal had only served to illuminate, to her at least, that she was more like her father than either of them could have imagined.

  Laurie paused in the thoroughfare to face him and her father drew to a halt beside her, the disapproval plain on his face.

  “No,” she said.

  “No?”

  “I will not be boarding a train. I will remain here until I am certain Boon is well and that he will not be harmed.”

  “How you aim to do that, exactly?”

  “Well, if you do not assist me, I suppose I could find someone who would, a newspaper man perhaps.”

  Her father snatched up her elbow and dragged her along with him. “I do not respond well to threats, little lady. And you do not rule this roost.”

  Laurie said nothing, though she was not through yet. She was hustled down a wooden walkway beside the manure-strewn road toward the hotel where her father had lived since his departure from their home.

  “Your mother said you boarded that train without her say. That true?”

  She nodded.

  “We didn’t even know you was missing. Damn foolish thing to do. Whatever possessed you?”

  “I came to tell you that Mother has a suitor. He’s asked her to marry him and she is considering his proposal.”

  “What?” he bellowed, his face turning purple. Clearly he did not like this news any better than Laurie had. “She’s my wife!”

  “Not since the judge granted the divorce decree.”

  “A piece of paper don’t change what is between us.”

  Her father was still shaking his head when they entered the lobby. The clerk behind the desk shot out to offer him a telegram. Bender stopped to read it and frowned.

  “Your mother’s coming today, with Paloma.” He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. “Damnation, train’s already arrived.” Her father removed his hat, finger combed his hair, and then straightened his bolo as if preparing to meet her that instant. He reached in his pocket and handed off his key. “Go up and wait, just in case I miss her. Lord, that woman can still make me jump like a bullfrog on a string.”

  * * *

  Laurie considered going to Dr. Langor’s office, but she was dirty and tired and wanted to wash up, so she dragged herself up the stairs and had not even time to wash her face when a knock sounded at the door.

  From the hallway, her mother called her name.

  Laurie fairly flung the door off its hinges.

  There before her stood Valencia Sanchez Garcia, exactly as Laurie had last seen her mother: petite, with black hair that Laurie had inherited along with her small, curvy figure and dark eyes. Her mother was not Mexican, but Castilian, from a good family who were not pleased about her attraction to a wild Texan.

  Valencia gave a cry that might have been joy or horror and then embraced her daughter, tears streaming copiously down her cheeks.

  Laurie’s mother kissed her and hugged her, as she enfolded her against her small, warm body. Laurie clung, finding herself also reduced to tears. Her mother drew back to look at her.

  Paloma directed the porter and then showed him out. With the click of the door, her mother spoke.

  “Didn’t he even think to order you a bath? Where is he? I will tear him apart.”

  “Mama, we only just arrived, not an hour ago. He’s gone to meet you at the train.”

  Her mother’s mouth still pulled down at the corners. She tightened her lips. “He left you to meet me? Oh, that man! How could he leave you alone?”

  Laurie had the impression that he was anxious to meet his wife, but she kept silent.

  Valencia separated from Laurie. “Mi hija, just look at you. But you’re safe now and everything will be all right.” Her mother drew back and faced Paloma.

  Paloma was the color of gingerbread, tough as hardwood and straight and thin as a reed. Only the deep lines in her face and threads of silver in her dark hair betrayed her age. She had hands thick and tough from working but Valencia saw that her clothing was better than average quality, neat and well made, because a servant is a reflection of the master, or so her mother said.

  Her mother spoke in Spanish. “Paloma, a bath for Laura, if you please.”

  Paloma nodded and left them alone.

  Valencia turned back to her daughter. “They didn’t hurt you? I couldn’t bear it if they hurt you.”

  Laurie shut her eyes and shook her head. “Boon saved me.”

  Her mother pulled back. “Who?”

  “Boon.”

  “Is that one of your father’s new men?”

  Laurie shook her head. Her mother clasped Laurie’s face between her two hands and stared hard. Then Valencia swept her daughter into the room and seated them on a sofa as if this were her hotel room.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Laurie was no longer a child and she knew better than to tell her mother everything. She certainl
y would keep some of what happened between her and Boon private. The trouble was, her mother was very keen and did not miss much. Even if she didn’t say, her mother might still make assumptions.

  Laurie drew a long breath and then began the telling. They sat side by side on the sofa, Laurie in her ruined purple skirts and stained blouse and her mother dressed in a fine moss-colored chambray day dress that accentuated her pale skin.

  If her mother noted the places where she stumbled or the gaps where she withheld what she and Boon had done together, she did not comment, but her sharp eyes seemed to take in everything. When Laurie had talked herself out, her mother said, “I think I need to meet this boy.”

  “Papa won’t let me see him.”

  “Well, thankfully, I no longer fall under your father’s jurisdiction and so I do as I please. But you, mi hija, have to protect your reputation. Does anyone know where you have been?”

  “I don’t know. The doctor maybe.”

  “Well, your father dragged you through town looking like this.” She swept a slim, elegant hand before Laurie. “Anyone with eyes will speculate. I shall have to have a reason for your condition. Perhaps a horse threw you and you rolled down a hill.” Her mother considered her as if she were a problem to be solved. “Have you lost your bustle?”

  Laurie’s shoulders rounded, knowing the questioning had only just begun. The exhaustion of the journey, the escape, the attack and the night spent nursing Boon seemed to press upon her. Still, she needed to say aloud what plagued her most, the feeling that would not leave her. It hovered like a hummingbird over a blossom. Dared she say it aloud?

  “Mama, I think I may have feelings for him.”

  Her mother sighed and then shook her head slowly as if Laurie had just spoken nonsense. In her dark eyes Laurie saw indulgence and sadness. “You only think that because you were afraid and he was there to help you. But he was there because your father sent him. It is natural for a drowning girl to cling to anything that is sent in her direction. But this is not love, it is dependence. You don’t need him now...so the feeling will fade.”