The Loner

by Geralyn Dawson

  Avarice shone in the villainous trio's faces. Fidgety said, "I've heard of that Bad Luck Treasure. Didn't know it's still in Fort Worth."

  It's not. Well, not the majority of it, anyway. Logan himself had helped transport a large chunk of it to more secure institutions in the East.

  Skepticism dimmed the third gunman's expression. "How do we know that you're telling the truth?"

  Logan tugged the gold medallion he wore around his neck over his head, then tossed it toward the leader, saying, "I helped my friends find the treasure, so they had this made for me in thanks."

  The outlaw caught the gleaming medallion in a grimy hand. "Well damn my eyes. Look at those stones."

  Logan braced his hands on his hips, keeping the gun handy. "There are lots more of those within relatively easy reach, but you'll never find them on your own."

  Gap Tooth studied him with suspicion. "If you're that MacRae fella's friend, why would you up and volunteer to give away their treasure?"

  Logan glanced at his fellow hostages on either side, his stare briefly meeting the violet-eyed woman's, before he said, "I'm offering to trade their treasure for the safety of these good people. My friends would never value money over lives."

  The outlaw leader glanced at his partners. The third villain said, "You can't let anyone go, boss. We're all right so far because nobody outside has noticed there's trouble. The minute folks leave this building that'll change. The law will surround us."

  "Which makes the secret tunnel leading away from the treasure vault all the more valuable," Logan observed, the lie spilling easily from his tongue.

  "Tunnel?" Gap Tooth asked. "What tunnel?"

  "The one Trace McBride had built to help protect the Bad Luck Treasure. He's an architect, you know. The man loves tunnels and secret passages. His home, Willow Hill, is full of them."

  "I don't believe him," declared the third gunman. "A tunnel? That's a crazy thing to believe."

  "I believe it." Fidgety scratched his chin. "I've heard talk about McBride. He's supposed to be pretty smart. A smart man would do everything possible to protect the Bad Luck Treasure. Wouldn't you think?" After a moment's pause for deliberation, he added, "I say we do it. The Bad Luck Treasure would make us all rich for life."

  Obviously unconvinced, Gap Tooth scratched below his left ear. Then abruptly, he aimed his gun at a bystander. "Do you know about a tunnel?"

  The man stuttered. "Um...no. Not...um...here." Then, perhaps seeing his chance of escape pass by, he added, "I do know that McBride likes to build secrets into his designs. His children played with mine, and I know his house has secret staircases and rooms. It makes sense to me that he'd build something secret to help protect his assets."

  "Huh." Gap Tooth shifted his aim back toward Logan. "All right...what's your name?"

  "Grey. Logan Grey."

  "Wait a minute. I know you." The outlaw's eyes narrowed. "You're that range detective who works for the Waggoner Ranch out of Wichita Falls. The one they call Lucky. You kilt Two Dog Redmond. He owed me fifty dollars when he died, so I never got it."

  Well, hell. His reputation struck again. "I'll make sure you get an extra emerald from the Treasure to make up for it."

  Beady eyes narrowed even farther. "What sort of trick are you trying to pull? You're a range detective! A killer with a badge. This is a trap."

  "No, it's not," Logan said with a shake of his head. That Killer-With-A-Badge label chapped his ass. He worked as a private lawman in places and at times where there weren't enough public badges to go around. Yeah, he'd killed his share of men, but only when arresting them wasn't an option. "I don't work for the Waggoner Ranch anymore. I'm just trying to get myself and these other folk out of here alive. I'm not on the job, mister. I have no legal authority. Frankly, it's no skin off my nose if you rob this bank, but I don't like seeing people hurt unnecessarily. Let these folks go, and I'll take you to the treasure."

  The outlaw gave the medallion in his hand another long look. His boot tapped against the bank's green marble floor. "All right. Here's how we're gonna do it. First, you show me the escape route, then I'll let these good folk go."

  Hmm. Not exactly what Logan had been hoping for, but at least it gave him a chance. Motioning toward the offices at the back of the building, he said, "It's this way."

  "Wait," barked Gap Tooth. "You, there." He motioned with his gun toward the beauty who'd slipped Logan the weapon. "Pretty lady. C'mere."

  "No, thank you," she politely said, smoothing her plain black traveling skirt.

  The outlaw made a growling sound, then took three steps forward and grabbed her arm. He jerked her to him and put his gun to her head. He turned an evil smile toward Logan. "Make one wrong move and your lady pays."

  Well, hell. Logan didn't doubt for a minute that ole Gap Tooth meant what he said.

  His gaze swept over the female. Look at her with her chin lifted, her eyes flashing. Full of bravado. Couldn't help but admire a woman like that. "I won't make any wrong moves," he assured the outlaw.

  Every move he made would be exactly right.

  "Boys? Y'all keep everyone quiet here until I get back," Gap Tooth said to his cohorts. Then nodding toward Logan, he added, "Go on, then. Show me the tunnel."

  As Logan walked toward the back of the bank, he mentally reviewed what he'd seen during his brief visit earlier. It was a damn shame this wasn't the bank where Dair and his wife located the Bad Luck Treasure. Trace McBride actually had constructed a hidden exit from the vault in the First National Bank of Fort Worth where a portion of the treasure remained. Logan could sure use a place like that at the moment to help trap this killer. Nevertheless, he was prepared to work with what he had.

  Gap Tooth and the woman followed Logan out of the lobby into the office hallway. He'd take them to the president's office. On a previous visit he'd noted a large vent cover on the far interior wall. Unless a better idea occurred to him in the next thirty seconds, he'd try to lure Gap Tooth there and tell him it was the tunnel entrance. If he could get the outlaw to bend down, he could surprise him with an elbow to the chin followed by a gun to the gut. Once he had control of the situation, he'd force the bandit to—

  Whoof. Thunk. While Logan turned toward the sound, Gap Tooth dropped to the floor like a stone. "What the—"

  "If I'd known you'd be so slow to save us I'd have kept the gun myself," the violet-eyed virago hissed as she grabbed the weapon from Gap Tooth's hand.

  Logan gawked at the gunman now writhing on the floor in pain. "What the hell did you do to him?"

  "He loosened his hold on me, so I pulled away and kicked him in the private parts."

  Damn. Logan braced his hands on his hips and grinned.

  On the floor, Gap Tooth let out a loud groan. She exhaled a snippy sigh, grabbed the handkerchief from Logan's jacket pocket, then knelt down and shoved it into the gunman's mouth to muffle the noise. Color stained her cheeks and frustration filled her eyes as she glared up at him. "Now, are you going to help me or do I have to do this alone?"

  Good Lord, she was magnificent when in a snit. And she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. How handy was that? "What's your plan?"

  "I don't have a plan. I thought you would develop one. You have much more experience at this sort of thing than I."

  Logan used line cut from nearby window drapes to bind the would-be robber and secure the gag. "You know who I am?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "Have we met before?"

  At that, she stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Logan got the impression that for a moment, she considered pointing the villain's gun at him. Instead, she drew herself up, squared her shoulders and said, "Let's save the hostages now, shall we?"

  "Sure." Logan nodded, frowning at the soiled spot on her stylish white blouse from the gunman's grimy hand. Seeing it made Logan want to follow her lead and give ole Gap Tooth another kick in the balls. "That sounds like a fine plan, missy."

  "Missy," she muttered.

  A thou
ght occurred to Logan that improved his mood. Maybe if he played his cards right, he wouldn't need to visit Ella's place after all. He could be charming when he wanted, and the woman had demonstrated that she knew her way around a belt buckle. Why, they could pass a right fine afternoon. Giving her a wink, he suggested, "After we are done with the rescuing, why don't you join me for lunch?"

  A series of emotions flashed across her face—shock, surprise, consideration, then fury. "No, thank you."

  Huh. Logan's brows arched in surprise. That put him in his place, didn't it? But he didn't understand the fury one bit. What was he missing here?

  Dammit, he wanted to find out. This gal lit his wick.

  Well, the sooner he took care of business here, the sooner he could see about getting his answers, so Logan turned his attention to matters at hand. Stepping into the bank president's office, he spied a walking stick with a metal handle. Testing its weight and strength, he nodded. It would do nicely as a weapon. Next, he made a quick phone call to Sheriff Luke Prescott's office and reported the robbery in progress. With the doors locked the lawmen couldn't storm the building, but they'd be waiting when access was provided.

  Debating just how best to make that happen, he returned to where the woman waited with Gap Tooth in the hallway, the outlaw's gun in one hand, his medallion in the other. He nodded toward the gun. "Do you know how to use that?"

  "I'm quite proficient."

  "Have you ever shot a man before?"

  "Only in my dreams, Logan Grey. Only in my dreams." The smile she wore when she said it made the hair on the back of Logan's neck stand up. She continued, "I am prepared, however, to shoot one of those criminals if necessary."

  He didn't doubt it one bit. "Good. It's my hope it won't come to that. With any luck at all, your other weapon will do the trick."

  "My other weapon?" she asked, following him back down the hallway toward the lobby. "What weapon?"

  "Your scream. When I give the word, I want you to scream as loud as you can and keep screaming until I tell you to stop. We're going to try to lure one of them in here."

  At the wall separating the bank offices from the lobby, Logan peered cautiously around the door. Fidgety stood at the teller's counter. The third man watched the hostages from beside the front entrance. "Are you ready...what's your name?"

  "I'm ready," she replied, ignoring his question.

  "Go."

  She drew a deep breath, then let out a loud, long, shrill scream.

  Though it was difficult to do, Logan tried to block out the sound of her voice and listen for the outlaw's approach. He raised the cane like a baseball bat ready to swing and hoped Fidgety would be the one to investigate. He sensed the third man would be less inclined to use his gun.

  From the bank lobby, he heard the little kid join in the hollering. No, kid. Hush up. Beside him, the woman continued wailing on.

  Time seemed to pass in slow motion. Logan saw a boot and he started his swing. The cane's metal handle caught the bandit at his temple, the blow sending him staggering. As Logan followed up by kicking the gunman's—the third gunman, not Fidgety's—legs out from under him, he heard a gunshot and new screams from the lobby.

  "Hurry!" urged Violet Eyes when she darted past him as the gunman crashed to the floor. His gun went skidding from his grip and Logan grabbed for it. He heard the woman let out a yell that made her previous screams sound like whispers.

  It was a battle cry, nothing less, and the sound of it caused his heart to lodge in his throat. The gunman attempted to rise and Logan hesitated long enough to place one hard kick to the sonofabitch's head and knock him into unconsciousness before dashing after the woman.

  He reached the lobby just in time to see her launch herself at Fidgety at the same time his gun exploded. The bullet missed her, thank God, and ricocheted off a center post, then slammed into the plaster wall.

  Fidgety's yell was abruptly cut off midscreech.

  She'd knocked him down, grabbed him by the ears and beat his head against the floor until he passed out.

  Hell, she hadn't needed backup.

  Logan halted and observed the woman with blatant admiration as she rolled off the downed outlaw and climbed to her feet, then calmly brushed the dust from her skirt. What a fascinating female.

  He stepped forward to help her—not that she needed help—as the head teller unlocked the doors and Luke Prescott and a half dozen lawmen rushed inside. Spying him, Luke called, "Lucky! You all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  "What happened here?"

  Logan gave his friend a brief rundown of events, then showed him where to find Gap Tooth and the third gunman. "She was amazing, I'm telling you," he told Luke as he helped Gap Tooth to his feet. "Downright amazing."

  "Who is she?"

  "I don't know. I didn't get her name in the middle of things, but I aim to find out now."

  But when he returned to the bank lobby and scanned the area, she was nowhere to be found. Logan strode outside and looked both up the street and down. Nothing. No violet-eyed Valkyrie in a simple skirt and blouse. She'd disappeared on him.

  And she'd taken his medallion with her.

  Well now, wasn't that just his luck?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Caroline tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear as she thanked the waitress who led her to an out-of-the-way booth in the Bluebonnet Grill. After this morning's contretemps she didn't want to see Logan Grey again until she was ready. "Mrs. Wilhemina Peters will be joining me shortly. Do you know her?"

  The waitress almost hid a wince. "Everyone in town knows Mrs. Peters. I hope you, um, enjoy your afternoon tea."

  Caroline intended to do just that. She and Wilhemina Peters shared a passion. It wasn't gossip; that was Mrs. Peters's milieu. No, she and Wilhemina were both newspaperwomen, two of very few in this great state of Texas. Though the Artesia Standard didn't have nearly the distribution or prestige of the Fort Worth Daily Democrat, Caroline had been able to use that connection to make this most important appointment. She intended to mine Fort Worth's self-acknowledged gossip queen for any and all information she possessed about Logan Grey. After all, knowledge was power, and Caroline needed all the help she could get in these circumstances.

  "May I bring you something to drink while you wait for Mrs. Peters?" the waitress asked. "She is invariably late."

  Caroline asked for tea, though she would have liked to order whiskey. It had been quite a day. Quite a week. For that matter, the entire year had been a trial.

  On January 1, she would never have guessed that in a few short months, she'd be on her way to beg the help of the dirty-dog scoundrel Logan Grey. But then, on New Year's Day, she hadn't known of the horrible events about to beset her family and leave her in these dire straits.

  But here she was in April, in Fort Worth, Logan Grey's adopted hometown, filled with fear and willing to do anything—anything—in order to protect those she loved.

  She had almost had heart palpitations when she saw him sauntering down the city street this morning as she walked from the train station to her hotel within minutes of her arrival in town. Her first inclination had been to duck into the General Store and hide. She hadn't been at all prepared to confront him at that point.

  Still, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to observe him, so she'd followed him into the bank, taking care that he not see her. Then when circumstances required she act, she'd expected her plans to unravel.

  But the low-down slimy toad hadn't recognized her. He'd looked right at her, spoken with her—held her in his arms!—and he hadn't known her from Adam. Shaken by that as much as the violence of the robbery, she'd slipped away from the bank at first opportunity, checked into her hotel and stewed for a good twenty minutes. Okay, maybe forty. All right, an hour.

  The man truly got her goat. She wanted nothing more than to look him in those flirty green eyes and tell him what a lying, rotten, no-good, low-life, snake-breath, dirt-eating, overstuffed, ignorant, heartl
ess, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed dog he was. But doing so would jeopardize her mission and she simply couldn't allow that.

  Dang it.

  So she'd done physical exercises in her room until she'd calmed down, then she'd invited Mrs. Peters to tea.

  Now she fiddled with her napkin and mentally reviewed the collection of half-truths, prevarications and flat-out lies she'd prepared for this meeting and the one she intended to have later tonight. Under other circumstances, the prospect of being so deceitful would prey upon her conscience. Her foster father, Ben, used to tell her she was too honest for her own good. Well, not today. Today she'd lie, cheat, steal— whatever it took to accomplish her purpose. She'd already lost one family member. Be hanged if she'd lose another.

  The waitress walked by carrying a piece of pie and suddenly in her mind's eye Caroline was back in Ben and Suzanne Whitaker's kitchen on a Sunday afternoon not long after Ben had hired her to help his wife during her recovery from a buggy accident. Caroline was baking a peach pie for Sunday dinner. Suzanne, bruised and weak as a kitten, sat at the table drinking tea and telling her the story of her Past.

  "I'm not proud of who I was, Caroline. I have regrets. Lots of them. No one forced me to ride with the Sunshine Gang. No one handed me a gun and said now go rob that train, then hightail it back to Black Shadow Canyon to hide. I did it for the excitemerit, for the money, and frankly because when I was your age I had a wild streak I simply couldn 't tame. But I grew up and I recognized the wickedness of my ways, and ever since then I've made a real effort to make amends."

  Suzanne smiled wistfully, sipped her tea and added, " Yet, for Ben, I 'd do it all again. I guess that means I 'm still not a good person, Caroline. Because I love him that much."

  "Well, I love him that much, too," Caroline murmured, carefully aligning her silverware. Besides, she wasn't out to rob a train or steal a person's life savings. She intended to tell a lie that would save a life she valued. It was true that the lie she intended to tell wasn't nice, but neither was the man she intended to lie to. Logan Grey owed her. She'd simply come to collect.