Give Me A Texas Ranger

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  She soaked in the tub until the water turned cold, then washed her hair. Pulling her undergarments from her bag, she put them on before wrapping herself in one of Devin’s extra bedsheets. The food was simple: milk, cheese, biscuits with jelly inside, and creamy chicken soup. It all tasted wonderful. When she finished, she curled up on one of the bunks and slept soundly.

  The late afternoon sun shone through high west windows when someone tapped on her door.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” the sergeant yelled, “but one of the men who went to the stage station just delivered your trunk. He says to tell you that if you’re able your brother would like you to dress and join the officers for dinner in an hour.”

  Annalane pulled the sheet tightly around her and opened the door.

  The sergeant kept his eyes low as he set the luggage inside. He didn’t look up until she asked if McCord had made it in with her brother.

  Cunningham smiled. “Yes, ma’am. He checked to see if I was on guard, then went over to the barracks to clean up. The Ranger always eats with the officers the first night when he’s in camp, just to pay his respects, but he’ll be having breakfast with us come morning.”

  She understood. “He’s more comfortable. I see.”

  Cunningham shook his head. “I don’t think McCord is comfortable anywhere. It wouldn’t surprise me if he sleeps wearing them twin Colts fully loaded and strapped on. But maybe he feels a little less uncomfortable around his own kind. I’ve heard that his family all died while he was off fighting. Haven’t seen him care about anyone or anything in years, until this morning.”

  Before she could ask, he added, “The look he gave me when he told me to take care of you left no doubt about how he feels about you, ma’am.”

  She thought the sergeant must have read something more into McCord’s order than was there. Maybe the sergeant was just hoping his friend had changed. All she had to do was listen to know that Cunningham and McCord had the same accent. Not Southern exactly, but uniquely Texas.

  She thanked the sergeant as she closed the door, and dressed in one of her plain navy suits she’d worn as a nurse. There had been only enough time and money to buy one good traveling dress. All the rest of her clothes were uniforms or housedresses. Years ago she’d had a few evening dresses and two Sunday dresses, but they’d long been packed away. There never seemed time for such things, and she always worked on Sundays when the nurses with families liked to take off.

  Annalane hoped her brother would come to walk her over to dinner, but when she opened the door only Cunningham waited for her outside. He offered his arm and she accepted the gesture kindly. He filled her in on what her brother and the Ranger had found at the station. She knew there would have been one more body on the dirt floor of the shack if she hadn’t left with McCord. The thought chilled her.

  Four officers and one Ranger stood as she stepped into the small dining room. Her brother introduced her to each officer. They were all polite, but as usual none gave her more than a passing glance. She was not the kind of woman who drew a man’s attention.

  To her surprise, McCord didn’t meet her eyes when he took her hand in greeting.

  Devin hadn’t introduced her to him, but the Ranger stepped forward and paid his respects just like the others. He’d cleaned up and had on clothes that looked free of dirt. If he hadn’t been frowning, she would have almost thought him handsome. How could this man of granite, with his cold winter eyes that missed nothing, be the same man who’d kissed her so wildly in the darkness?

  She didn’t waste time with nothing words. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “You are welcome.” He finally looked up, staring at her as if he saw no one else in the room. “As I remember, you insisted on going.”

  “You could have left anytime after the rain started. Why did you wait?”

  He lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t have left without you. If you hadn’t wanted to go with me, I would have remained and fought.”

  Annalane stared, knowing he meant every word.

  Her brother tugged at her arm, insisting she sit between the captain and a tired-looking man with thinning hair named Lieutenant Dodson.

  As Devin tucked in her chair, he said, “I asked one of the men to move your things out of my room and into the new infirmary. You can stay there. It wouldn’t be proper for you to stay in the officers’ quarters. I’m an officer so I belong there, and even though you’re my sister, you are still only a nurse.”

  When she raised an eyebrow, he added, as if she’d asked, “The three-room infirmary is finished, at least on the outside. One wide front room that will serve as an office and examining room, one smaller storage room, and a large room to be set up as a small sick ward. Once we get everything out of crates, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of room for a bed in the storage room.”

  “Nothing is set up?” She knew her brother had been at the camp over a month—surely he’d done something. It occurred to her that he might not know how. Surely any graduate from a medical school would know how to set up at least an office and examining room.

  “I’ve been busy,” he answered. “It’s not my top priority right now. I’m not just the camp doctor, I’m also an officer.”

  She nodded, telling herself he was lazy, just waiting for her to do the work. He’d been that way as a child, and no uniform had changed his habits. Pushing aside a nagging worry that he might not have spent all his time away in medical school, she resigned herself to sleeping among crates tonight.

  She glanced around at the proper table service and wished McCord were not a table away. He was the only one she felt safe with. He was the only one she wanted to talk to. She smiled. In truth neither of them probably had enough skills to keep a conversation going throughout an entire meal.

  It made little sense—the man had barely talked to her—but in a deep, primal way she needed to be near McCord.

  The captain was formal and polite, but not interested in talking to a woman. Her brother never spoke to her, except to tell her to answer the questions. Lieutenant Dodson, on her left, was a few years older than she was, thin and pale among the other men tanned by the sun. He told her he was the paymaster. The man reminded her of a hawk, and had the habit of blurting out questions in random order. Her answers quickly shortened to simply yes or no, since she had the strong suspicion he wasn’t listening but trying to think of what to ask next.

  By the time the meal was served, she’d formed a shell around herself. The men talked around her as if she were invisible. Her brother related his trip to the stagecoach station, including how the bodies looked on the floor and how many times each had been shot.

  When one of the young officers suggested that such talk might not be proper in front of a lady, Dr. Woodward announced that his sister loved blood and gore. She’d been at half the battles during the Civil War and came home to work in a hospital for dying veterans when the war was over, as if she hadn’t had enough after over four years.

  When dessert was brought in, Annalane excused herself, saying she knew the men would want to enjoy their cigars with coffee and she was still very tired. They all stood and bid her goodnight, but she had the feeling that only Ranger McCord’s gaze followed her out.

  Sergeant Cunningham waited on the steps to see her to the infirmary. “The boys have been scrambling while you were at dinner, ma’am, trying to clean up at least one of the rooms for you. I’m not sure where your brother thought you’d be sleeping when he ordered your things sent to a half-finished building with boxes everywhere.”

  Annalane thought of saying she doubted Devin cared, but she tried to smile as she said, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  When she entered the building, she was met by the three men who had gone with McCord to the station. One looked barely old enough to shave and the other two were like Cunningham—they’d fought for the South. They were all smiling at her.

  As the men stepped aside, she glanced into the larger room that would be
come the hospital bay and she laughed. They’d put a tent in the middle of a room lined with boxes. One of the privates stepped forward. “We figured we didn’t have time to clean the place so we put up a new tent for you, ma’am, with supplies we found in some of these boxes.”

  Another added, “You got a lock on the door to the room, so you’ll be safe, but you’ll have your own apartment once you’re in the building.” He lifted the flap. “We put some coals on the grate so you’ll be snug as a bug in here tonight.”

  Annalane laughed and clapped her hands. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ve never had something so grand.” They’d even put a little white tea set by the grate and a rug made from blankets on the floor.

  They all smiled and would have watched her move in if Cunningham hadn’t shoved them along. “Lock the door behind us, ma’am. We’ll take turns tonight guarding outside, so all you have to do is yell if you need anything.”

  Annalane thanked them each again, locked the door, and stepped inside her very own playhouse tent. She had the feeling a few of the items had been stolen from her brother’s room, but tonight she didn’t care. She was in heaven.

  First, as she’d done for years traveling with the supply wagons and medical tents, she unpacked her few belongings and laid them out so they’d be in easy reach when she was called to work. Then she dressed in her white nightgown and warm robe that tied empire style. The hem might be frayed and the lace threadbare in a few places along the collar, but she always felt elegant in her robe.

  She sat in front of a little mirror and brushed her hair, then braided it in a long braid. Smiling, she remembered how her mother used to tell her that she might never be a beauty, but she had pretty hair.

  Her parents had both died two years ago when a flu hit the city hard that winter. Devin had been in his first year of medical school and couldn’t come home. She’d tried to keep working and deal with the debts. One by one she’d sold off everything they’d had, to pay bills and keep Devin in school. He resented having to join the army because there was no money to help set up his practice, but deep down Annalane had thought it would be good for him.

  A knock sounded at the door just beyond the folds of her tent.

  She checked her robe, slipped from her warm tent and opened the door.

  McCord stepped inside, frowning. “Don’t unlock the door unless you know who is on the other side.”

  “All right. Go out and knock. I’ll pretend I don’t know you.” He’d been nothing but cold to her all evening. If she didn’t know better she’d swear someone else had been in the shadows with her last night. Someone else had kissed her. Not this man who hadn’t looked at her once during dinner.

  He ignored her suggestion and raised an eyebrow at the tent.

  She was thankful for the distraction. “The boys put it up for me. Isn’t it great?”

  He didn’t smile, but at least he stopped frowning. “Yeah, it is.”

  “What did you need, Ranger McCord? It’s a little late for a social call and I do have a guard outside.”

  McCord reached behind her and shoved the bolt. “I told that Clark kid, who’s guarding this place like it’s the national bank, to go eat some supper. I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?” He’d had an hour to talk to her at dinner and never said a word.

  “About this.” He leaned closer, backing her against the door, and hesitated a few inches from her mouth. “I’m going to kiss you again, Anna. If you have objections, you’d better voice them now. All you have to say is stop. Just say the word and I back away.” The words were snapped like orders he’d rehearsed. “But if you don’t…”

  She could feel her breathing quicken but she faced him squarely. This was probably his idea of having a conversation with a lady. The man had the social skills of a turtle. “Well, first of all, my name is Annalane, not Anna, and I’ll not tolerate being manhandled or talked to like I’m…”

  He closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his. She pushed on his chest and tried to turn her head away, but he held her with his body pressed hard against hers and his hand cupped around the back of her head. Evidently the conversation part of his visit was over.

  This was no gentle kiss of hello, but a demanding, searching advance based on need and longing. He slid his hand to her jaw and urged her mouth open so he could taste and smother her complaint.

  As she knew he would, he gentled when she kissed him back. He moaned low and twisted his fingers through her hair as he took her through the lessons he’d taught her the night before in the blackness.

  Finally, when he moved his mouth to her throat, she breathed in deeply as he whispered, “That’s the way, Anna. I knew you’d feel this good, taste this good. I couldn’t have imagined last night when you were lying against me.”

  He brushed the tips of his fingers along her chin. “I think I might have died if I’d had to sit across the room much longer without touching you.” He held her cheek as he kissed her again and again while he mumbled something about going slow.

  The thought of saying stop never occurred to her. She wanted a man who was gentle and caring, maybe even hesitant as a lover, but she’d not tell McCord to stop. She felt her body melting against his, needing his nearness, his touch, his kiss, as deeply as he seemed to need her.

  Finally, he leaned away and studied her, drinking her in with his stormy gaze.

  She knew he’d kiss her again if she tried to talk to him, so she lifted her arms to his shoulders and let her breasts rise and fall against his chest with each breath.

  He raised his head and smiled at her as if he could read her mind. His hand circled round her braid and he tugged until she leaned her head back, offering him her throat.

  He unbuttoned the first few buttons of her high-collared gown and began nibbling along her throat. He stopped where her heart pounded just below the surface of her skin and kissed just there. Then, as if in thanks for her offering, he returned to her mouth and kissed her lightly, playing with her tongue. He didn’t have to say he missed her—he was showing her. There’d been no need to tell her he had to touch her—she knew.

  When she pulled him closer, she felt his low moan more than heard it. “I know, Anna,” he whispered against her ear. “I know.”

  Slowly, the kiss grew deeper. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. He stepped back and tugged at the ribbons holding her robe. When she protested, he pushed her hands away. When she tried again to hold her robe closed, he placed both of her hands behind her with one strong grip he opened the robe with his free hand.

  She wiggled, trying to get free. He was going too fast, being too bold. She wanted a gentle lover, a slow lover, a hesitant…the feel of his hands tugging her robe free made her forget her list of wants.

  She wouldn’t stop him and he smiled down at her, knowing what they were doing was new and frightening to her.

  “Easy now, Anna. Just relax against me. I wish there was time to go slower,” he whispered as he kissed his way from her ear to her lips. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you?”

  She nodded and moved her hands to his shoulders, barely aware of when he’d released her.

  “I’m going to touch you, if you’ve no objection. This will be no light brush over your clothes, like before. When I’m finished there will be no doubt you’ve been handled a bit.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And, darling, you’re going to love every minute.”

  When she opened her mouth to question this, his kiss stopped the words and his hand moved over the cotton of her gown to grip her breast boldly while his strong arm circled her. She jerked and twisted, but he didn’t let go. Her breast filled his hand. His grip was strong, almost hurting her, but he didn’t turn loose or let her free.

  When she pulled her mouth from his, he let her turn and gulp air. His fingers spread out, pressing her breast against her pounding heart. She saw fire in his eyes, but she felt no fear of him, only of herself and what he might awaken in her.


  She tried to turn away, but he didn’t move. They both knew she could stop him with a word. She was fighting years of closing herself off from any tenderness, any loving touch, any passion. This cold, hard man seemed to understand her when no one else had even tried.

  “Kiss me, Anna,” he whispered, almost angry. “Kiss me.”

  She turned toward him, seeing the need in his eyes, and then the surprise as she raised her chin and moved her mouth to his. After a moment of hesitation, he took her offering fully.

  When she finally calmed and stilled in his arms, he kissed a tear from her cheek and loosened his grip around her. “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it, darlin’. You’re more afraid of something new than of me.”

  It crossed her mind that he was mad. She was with a madman. Who bossed her around. Who saved her life. Who kissed her with a passion that would probably set them both on fire any minute. He thought he could kiss her and handle her just because he wanted to. He treated her like a treasure. Like a woman. Like a passion too deep for either of them to understand.

  His hand gently brushed over the thin layer of material covering her shoulder.

  When he leaned down to take a first taste of her throat, she pushed away and moved into her tent.

  He followed, knowing that he’d be welcomed as he moved up behind her, circling her waist and pulling her back against him. He wasn’t imprisoning her now—she could have stepped away, but she leaned into him and sighed at the whirlwind of feelings circling through her body.

  He kissed her ear and she heard his breathing, fast and heavy like her own. “Unbutton your gown.” He spread his hands out wide at her sides.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Unbutton your gown.” His order was muffled as his mouth moved down her throat.

  “Only a few,” she whispered back in compromise.