With increasing awareness of the feelings of those around him, Morgan realized how frightening her life must be: her father’s death, the Utes, then this shooting. She had sat next to Nick during supper, at one time holding his hand tightly, and Morgan realized he had not helped ease the child’s fear by keeping her friend, Nick, prisoner.
But Morgan didn’t know how to make music, or charm, or even smile in a nonthreatening way. He cared, but he didn’t know how to show he cared, and so he stayed away, watching from a distance, as he’d learned always to watch. He’d thought he’d also learned not to get involved in others’ lives, but now he knew the lesson hadn’t taken as well as he’d imagined. He felt so very alone, so very inadequate, so damnably empty.
Nick was sleeping on and off, Beth sitting next to him, her hand on his arm. Morgan had not chained him, nor had he asked for his word. They all realized Nick had no more strength in him. But Morgan knew he had to ask for Lori’s. He understood her well enough to know she would still try any desperate scheme to help Nick. She wouldn’t kill Morgan, he knew that now, but she wasn’t beyond trying to steal his guns and horses.
He’d put his offer in a way she couldn’t refuse. “Your brother needs all the rest he can get. He can’t get much with you attached to him. I want your word you won’t try anything, anything at all. Your other alternative is to be attached to me.” He knew she wouldn’t accept the second choice. And he waited, even as he ached inside at her obvious distaste at being close to him. He could chain her to a tree, but he wasn’t going to give her that option. He couldn’t lock metal on her again, not any longer. He wanted her word, plain and simple, so he would never have to do that again. And to obtain it, he gave an unacceptable choice—purposely, almost cruelly, bending her to his will.
She had stared at him with disbelief, with eyes full of disappointment in him, and he felt as if she were ripping out his heart. But she finally gave him her word. Bitterly. Reluctantly. He knew she would keep it, even as she remained distant from him during the evening. Beth had already moved Maggie’s sleeping body closer to the fire, and her own blankets near Nick, so she could hear if there was any change.
Morgan nearly suffocated in the pall that had descended on their small divided party. Nick was still sullen, Beth anxious, Lori sad. Only Caroline seemed indifferent to the stifling atmosphere. After suffering Maggie’s embrace, the pig had nonchalantly scouted around for any remaining scraps, gobbling up every piece of food in sight and some that wasn’t. She rooted constantly, often butting those individuals who paid her little mind. She even butted Morgan, whom everyone else was avoiding. He found himself grateful for that small notice. It was, he thought, a pretty demeaning state to find oneself in.
Morgan added more wood to the fire and rolled up in his blankets, his six-shooter still strapped to his body, the rifle immediately at his side. He heard Beth whisper something to Nick, and he envied his prisoner. He wanted to whisper to Lori, to draw her close, to share his blankets and the night, to wipe away the taste of killing.
But he felt stained with blood and wryly realized his whole life had been that way. For the first time in years he wondered how it would feel not to be a Ranger, not to be the hunter.
He couldn’t picture it. God help him, he just couldn’t imagine it.
They left the clearing two days later. It had taken that long for Nick to regain enough strength to ride any distance at all, and even now the going would be slow.
The delay was agonizing for Morgan. He had left Nick free, knowing he couldn’t get far in his condition. He scouted, this time more thoroughly, and set several rabbit snares, but decided not to do any more shooting. He suspected that was what had led the gunman to them. He cursed himself more than once for that lapse in judgment, even though he knew the meat had been essential to Nick’s slow but steady recovery.
It was Lori that made the wait so terrible. She avoided him as if he might have the plague, and he suspected she considered him just that to her family. Nick was taciturn, speaking very little to him, keeping what words he had for Beth and Maggie.
Morgan had never thought he would miss the sound of that damned harmonica, but he did. Lori still sang a little, but mostly to Maggie, none of the plaintive melodies that she and Nick seemed to like so much, the melodies that had taunted at first and then had struck at his heart. He had wanted to talk to Nick, to try to convince him again that returning to Texas was the best way to handle this, but he met with a stone face whenever he neared the man. It was as if Braden had closed himself completely off. Morgan understood that. God knew he had done it enough times himself.
And what could Morgan say? I’ll try to prove your innocence, but I won’t let you go. He’d already said that, and he knew they were meaningless words to Nick Braden. Braden didn’t trust him, would probably never trust him. Morgan found it odd that, on the other hand, he did trust Braden—had done exactly that, in fact.
Morgan couldn’t say the other words pounding unmercifully inside, that he had fallen in love with Lori. He had been alone too long, had been too cautious all his life with feelings and words. He didn’t know how to express feelings without making a fool of himself. He could only hold them inside, knowing he was distrusted by the woman from whom he so wanted trust, by a man he was growing to respect by leaps and bounds. So he clung to the stoicism by which he’d lived for so long, expecting little, asking nothing, drawing deeper into himself to keep the new pain at bay.
On the third morning Nick seemed well enough to ride, and it was more than time to get going. Morgan had decided to make one last try with Nick. Lord knew he didn’t want to use the irons any longer, he didn’t want Nick to make it necessary—but Morgan was afraid he would.
They had both shaved that morning after eating, and Morgan found himself once more comparing their faces. Nick’s seemed even more like his own now, the lines in his prisoner’s face deepened by the last few days. Nick looked wary as Morgan collected his shaving gear and hesitated next to him. “Have you thought any more about what I said about returning voluntarily to Texas?”
“No,” Nick said flatly.
Morgan felt his mouth tighten. Their eyes clashed.
“I don’t suppose you’d give me your word not to try to run?”
“No,” Nick said again.
“Damn you, Braden, why do you have to make this so difficult? Particularly on yourself?”
Nick shrugged. “I have no intention of making it easy for you, not with me, not with Lori.”
Morgan felt his gut clench. “Hold out your hands, then,” he said curtly, taking a pair of handcuffs he had placed in his belt. Nick looked at him with loathing but did as he was ordered.
Morgan fastened the handcuffs on him. He motioned toward the horses, which he’d already saddled. “Take mine,” he said. “Mrs. Andrews can have yours. I’ll take her stallion. And this time let me know if you feel you have to stop. I don’t want you bleeding again.”
“Because it will slow us up?”
“Right,” Morgan said icily. “I don’t want any more delays.”
Nick smiled at him, but it wasn’t friendly, and Morgan was strangely relieved to see the anger back in his eyes, that fractious spirit returning.
Lori rode alongside Beth during the early part of the day. Morgan had not used the second pair of handcuffs to lock Nick to the saddle horn this time, but he had tied his horse’s reins to the lead again. Nick had rebuffed any attempt at conversation by anyone, including Beth and Lori. But when they had stopped for a brief break at midday, Maggie had charmed Nick and begged to ride with him, and Nick had taken Maggie on the saddle in front of him, holding her firmly with hands that were still cuffed.
Although Lori had hoped for delay, Nick’s wound had not been exactly what she’d had in mind. But these few days were exactly what Nick had needed. Surely, the family had received the message she’d sent from Georgetown. Now it was essential she reach Pueblo before Morgan and make sure any plan precluded harm to
either man. She couldn’t bear to think of Morgan dead. Andy would have no such scruples. Neither, she feared, would her father or even Daniel if they thought Nick was in danger.
She didn’t want to care, dammit. She’d wanted to hate him for forcing her word, for putting handcuffs on Nick again this morning. But she couldn’t. Not after that night. She knew now he really did want to help, but she felt his intentions were misguided. He simply believed in things she didn’t, in justice, in the law, in his capacity to go up against a wealthy, powerful man like Wardlaw. It was a case, she feared, of “I’m going to help you if it kills you.”
And now she had given him her word, though she considered it temporary. She would have to rescind it before Pueblo, give him fair warning so he could try to stop her, if he had the heart for it. Sometimes she wondered if he had one, and then he would do something so unexpected, like bringing Caroline along with them, or getting the hotel room in Georgetown.
Her heart cracked a little more each time he gave her that tentative, wry half smile, every time she thought of his tenderness, the very sweetness of his touch. Sweeter because she knew he’d shared a bit of the same wonder she’d experienced. And now she looked at that straight, uncompromising back, and she hurt for both of them. The last two days had been pure purgatory, watching his eyes, which had so warmed several days ago, turn icy and watchful again as she so obviously rejected his offer, rejected his help in any way.
Lori leaned over and ran her hand down Clementine’s neck, fighting against the lump in her throat, the one that had been there for two days, the one she feared would be there for a very long time.
Nick readjusted his arms around Maggie to shift her away from the still painful wound. Her head, nodding ever so slightly, had fallen against his chest. Lord, but he hated the damn cuffs. Still, he wasn’t locked to the saddle horn, and that was something, and his arms went neatly around the child. The irons, though, were a constant reminder of his situation.
He had tried to rebuff Beth during the past few days, feigning a sullenness and hostility that he hoped would frighten her off. Oh, he had enough hostility, all right—all directed toward Morgan Davis, but none toward her.
He knew something was happening to him, something that had never happened before. He was falling in love, and he was desperately afraid Beth Andrews might be doing the same. He sensed as much in the stolen glances, the gentle but almost possessive touch, the way their eyes met and held, exchanging knowledge as old as man.
He relished it, and yet he knew he could only hurt her, and so he’d tried everything he could to turn her away. God knew she’d had enough misery to last a lifetime. He couldn’t bring her anymore. Every movement was a reminder that he was headed to the hangman, every jingle of the chain that bound his wrists. The Ranger wasn’t going to let go, and Nick’s only release was the Ranger’s death, and that would only increase the price on his head, the danger he would bring to every one around him.
He’d had an opportunity and hadn’t taken it. He tried to tell himself that it was because the Ranger had no chance at that moment. His weapons were pointed to the ground, and it would have been like killing an unarmed man. But the truth, he knew, was more complicated, and even he didn’t understand it. He hated Morgan Davis, yet there was some kind of odd feeling that had kept him from pulling the trigger, even from trying to wound him again.
But now, handcuffed again, he realized how very short his life expectancy was, how he had nothing but heartache to offer Beth, with the gentle eyes and warm heart. And Maggie, with the solemn eyes, whom he had already taken to his heart. Another death, Morgan Davis’s death, would do nothing to help that. His hands tightened around Maggie. He’d always liked children, had always thought he would have some of his own once he got the ranch started and had something other than a wandering life to offer. Holding Maggie now was probably as close as he was ever going to get to it, whether he reached Texas or not. He sure as hell wouldn’t drag a family around as a wanted man.
Morgan Davis turned around, and their gazes caught. Nick thought he saw pain in the Ranger’s eyes too. Maybe he really did love Lori. If he did, that too seemed destined to fail. For a moment understanding flickered between the two men, understanding and even a kind of mutual compassion. Nick’s lips thinned. He couldn’t afford understanding or compassion. It still came down to him or the Ranger if he was to survive, much less have any kind of life.
Maggie wriggled restlessly in his arms, and his gaze went down to her. “It’s all right, Button,” he said softly, and he felt her settle down against him once more, felt her childish trust, and a bittersweet longing that he knew would never be fulfilled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lori felt numb. Seven days of endless riding through rugged mountain terrain, particularly without a saddle, took their toll. She was thankful for the numbness, though, for being too tired to think. A few more days and they would be in Pueblo, and then she didn’t know what would happen. She sickened every time she thought of it, but her determination never flagged, particularly when she saw Nick in irons again.
The battle of wills continued between Morgan and Nick. She thought that Morgan was making things particularly difficult for her brother, hoping he would give in, that he would decide to give himself up voluntarily. But she knew Nick better than that. The one thing the two men had in common, other than their faces, was dogged stubbornness.
Beth and Maggie and Caroline were still with them, though Morgan could often be heard swearing as the pig sometimes refused to move. Beth, the only one of them Morgan really trusted, would often have to go back and prod the animal forward.
Morgan had diverted them to one town, where he’d hoped to find a stage for Maggie and Beth. But since he had last been there, it had become a ghost town, a mining community still on the maps but consisting only of wornout buildings ready to collapse. Lori doubted now whether Beth and Maggie would leave them. Beth had already mentioned to her she planned to accompany them to Texas, to do what she could to help Nick. She hadn’t said anything about the Ranger, but Lori knew Beth had more faith in Morgan Davis than either she or Nick had. But, then, Beth had never been in Harmony, Texas.
Neither Nick nor Lori tried to persuade her to help in other ways. Nick, in fact, was adamant about it: he wouldn’t use Mrs. Andrews to try to get a gun, or try for the key. He’d hang first, and Lori knew it. She had never seen Nick in love before, but he was surely that now. His eyes glowed with it, for both Beth and little Maggie, even as much as he tried to hide it, even as he forced bad temper to frighten Beth off. Lori hurt for him now as much as she hurt for herself.
Morgan Davis had reverted back to his stoic, unemotional self. Each night now he ordered Nick, rather than Lori, to help him water the horses. He made sure he was never alone with her, and his eyes were cool, his mouth unsmiling.
And so he drove them, day and night, toward Pueblo.
On the seventh day Lori knew it was time to tell him she no longer intended to keep her word. They stopped in late afternoon, after passing what appeared to be another warm spring. Morgan had halted, dismounted, and tried the water. He then led his horse a small distance away where a stream bubbled along a canyon floor.
“This seems a good place to camp tonight. We can take baths at the spring back there.”
Maggie had started whining, which was most unusual for the girl. She had been extraordinarily good throughout the trip, particularly when she sat with Nick, but she was obviously exhausted. Morgan reached up for Maggie, who was riding with Nick, and Maggie’s whine turned into full-fledged tears. Dismay flickered across the Ranger’s face, as it always did when Maggie avoided him. To Maggie, Morgan was still the “bad man” who was doing something unpleasant to her new friend to whom she’d given a big piece of her heart.
Beth dismounted and hurried over to calm Maggie. Lori watched as Nick dismounted, wincing a bit as he did. Although he was much stronger than he had been, he tired quicker than the rest, and she knew h
e still felt pain from the knife wound. Morgan had been careful with him the first few days on the trail, but then he’d resorted to driving them again, just as he had driven himself so soon after his own wound.
Lori also dismounted, stretched her legs a bit, and then started gathering firewood as Nick and Morgan took the horses to the stream. She tried to tease Maggie into a song, but Maggie wasn’t having any of it today. She just huddled against her mother, who looked apologetic as Lori piled up wood. Morgan had the matches in his saddlebag, so she couldn’t do more.
Beth was tired too. Her face showed it. The traveling was bad enough, but the tension between the four adults was even worse, which was probably, Lori guessed, why Maggie was unusually fussy. It was as if they were all walking on eggs, none of them doing it successfully.
When the two men returned, Morgan unsaddled the horses while Nick went over to Maggie. Her face brightened immediately, and she crawled into his lap as Beth shook her head in amazement.
“I’ve never seen her take to anyone like she took to Nick,” she said quietly to Lori, her voice too low for the others to hear. “No one but her father.”
“Nick practically raised me,” Lori said. “He’s always been the Pied Piper of children. He and that harmonica. I wish I could find him a new one.” It was a small thing, she knew, but that harmonica had always been Nick’s way of releasing pent-up emotions.
“Perhaps in Pueblo,” Beth said. They all knew where they were going now. Morgan was no longer keeping it to himself, now that there seemed no reason for it.
Perhaps in Pueblo. Perhaps in Pueblo Nick would go free. Perhaps in Pueblo Morgan would die. Perhaps in Pueblo …
“Perhaps,” she murmured.
Beth tipped her head. “You don’t believe Morgan Davis, do you?”
“I believe him,” Lori said wretchedly. “I just don’t think he can do what he thinks he can. At least I don’t want to chance it.”
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