Give Me A Texas Ranger

by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

  Fondness might not be the correct name for what she felt.

  It’d be so easy to let go and start pretending.

  The tall Texas Ranger presented an even more powerful figure now than he had back when they were courting. Hard muscle filled out his shirt and his shoulders had broadened. His square jaw and high cheekbones spoke of rugged determination. And he had a maturity that came with age and mental toughness.

  His prickly standoffish attitude puzzled her though. For goodness sakes, he hadn’t even wanted her to touch him. Surely the heated exchange they’d had after Sam quit his job wasn’t the reason. But that had to be it. He’d evidently held the grudge for seven long years. She might as well get to the ugly truth.

  “You’re still angry with me. I can see it. You are.”

  “You had no right to do what you did,” Stoney growled. “Wasn’t your choice to decide. Sam loved his job. He was the kind of Ranger you find once in a coon’s age.”

  Texanna fidgeted with the edge of her apron, searching for the right words. “Are you sure you’re not confusing your desires with Sam’s? You probably don’t want to hear this, but I’ll say it anyway. He never thought about the Texas Rangers the way you do. He didn’t obsess over that job. I know he was happy here with me.” She raised her eyes to meet his stormy stare. “And besides, do you honestly think I could’ve made him do anything he hadn’t wanted to do? When that man dug in his heels, God and all his angels couldn’t change his blessed mind.”

  “I know he didn’t waste time in giving up his dream,” Stoney argued.

  “Dreams change,” she said softly. “For all of us. Sam was no exception. He loved being a father to Josh and a husband to me. Can you just forgive the past and let go? Please?”

  “I’ll try. Won’t make any promises though.”

  Texanna threw up her hands and got to her feet. “I swear! You’re as stubborn as Sam was. Want more coffee?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  When he looked at her with that steady gray stare, she suddenly got weak in the knees. She found herself wondering if his black-as-midnight hair was as soft as the last time she’d run her fingers through it so many years ago, when she was young and oh so foolish.

  Memories long forgotten swarmed back. Things she hadn’t thought of in a long while.

  Texanna refilled Stoney’s coffee cup. “Remember when we rode our horses to the top of the bluff overlooking the San Saba River just to watch the sunrise? You built a fire and we made coffee. We sat there talking until well after daybreak.”

  “About Sam, if I recall.” His deep voice seemed to vibrate the very air.

  “And you told me what a good husband Sam would make. You were right. I got the cream of the crop.”

  “Wasn’t anyone better. Never thought I’d live to see Sam end up in the undertaking and barbering business though.”

  “The businesses belonged to my father. Sam took over when Papa couldn’t take care of them anymore. Papa died soon after. It was like he found a replacement and could leave this world in peace. I’m glad Papa doesn’t know about Marcus.”

  “You’ve had a passel of heartache.” He took a sip of coffee. “Do you have any friends in this town you trust enough to talk to?”

  “A few. Loretta Farris, who owns the boardinghouse. And Dusty Haws. You probably remember him. He used to be a Ranger too.”

  “Yep, I know Dusty. The old codger got an eye put out by a piece of lead and had to retire. He’s as good a man as they come. Heard he was living in Devils Creek.”

  “Dusty tried to help me with Marcus, but he can’t see all that well and he’s coping with bad health.” Texanna stepped to the sideboard and picked up a dish towel. “Soon as I get these dishes washed I’m opening up the barbershop for business.” She gave him a pointed stare. “You could use some barbering.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I could at that.” He rubbed the dark growth on his jaw that added a dangerous attraction, and Texanna’s heart fluttered.

  What was the matter with her? She couldn’t care for anyone else. And it was for sure too soon to be thinking of kissing and romancing. What was the matter with her? Texanna plunged both arms into the dishwater and set to scrubbing egg off the plates.

  Knowing when he’d been dismissed, Stoney grabbed his hat and went to check on his horse. He needed to pay the livery man for feeding and boarding Hondo.

  The main street of Devils Creek was a tad on the icy side, the way folks stared when Stoney passed by. The town welcomed him about as much as a steer did a red-hot branding iron.

  Well, he wouldn’t be here any longer than he had to. Of course, he hadn’t exactly figured out what to do about Texanna’s problem. Maybe he could take her and Josh to Menardville with him and set her up there. That had possibilities.

  Sunlight spilled through the door of the livery. Stoney strode to the stall he’d put Hondo in the previous night.

  “Hey, boy.” Stoney petted the dark withers. The faithful buckskin gelding snuffled against his shirt. “You can look all you want, but there isn’t an apple in there. You’re out of luck today, old boy.”

  A faint rustle came from behind. “Can I help ya, mister?”

  Stoney turned. The long leather apron the tall bearded man wore suggested he was the owner of the livery. When the man stepped into the shaft of sunlight, Stoney noticed the cloudy white film over his left eye.

  “Dusty Haws, you old sonofagun!”

  The man squinted to see better and scratched his head. “I recognize that voice but can’t rightly put a name to you.”

  “You’d better recognize me. Stoney Burke.”

  “Well, the hell you say! What brings ya to Devils Creek?”

  “Business. Supposed to pick up a prisoner and deliver him to Menardville for trial. How’s the world been treatin’ you?”

  “Cain’t complain.” Dusty cackled, showing his toothless gums. “Wouldn’t do me a lick of good if I did. Don’t reckon anyone’d want to hear it. You see Texanna yet?”

  “Just came from there. She fed me breakfast. Told me about this LaRoach fellow after I broke up his little plan this morning. Thought I’d woke up in the middle of a range war or something. A god-awful noise.” Stoney rubbed Hondo’s nose when the horse poked his head curiously over the stall rail.

  “I tried to stop Marcus. He knocked me out with the butt of his pistol. Left me with this to remember him by.” Dusty pointed to the gash on his bald head. “I ain’t much use against the likes of Marcus. Done got too durn old and stove up.”

  Stoney rustled up a grin. “Bet you could still give ’em hell if the occasion arose. Never took you for a quitter.”

  “Reckon not. Wisht I was as young as I used to be.” A far-off look swept over his face. “Those were the days.”

  “I wondered what happened to you after you retired. Some said you vamoosed down Mexico way and got yourself hitched to a pretty senorita.”

  Dusty cackled again and slapped his thigh. “You always were a josher. Women are a whole mess of trouble. I’d rather wrestle a water moccasin.” Suddenly the man turned somber. “I stuck pretty close to your friend, Sam Wilder. Reckon Texanna told you what happened.”

  “She did.” Stoney was still trying to picture Sam lying dead in the barbershop with a straight razor in his hand instead of a Colt.

  Dusty motioned to Hondo. “This feller your horse?”

  Stoney nodded. “Hope you don’t mind me making myself at home. Wasn’t anyone about last night. I also made use of your loft. Needed a place to bed down.”

  “Glad you did. You can sleep there anytime.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Stoney brought out a couple of silver dollars and handed them to Dusty. “Here’s enough to feed and put Hondo up for a few days. Another thing—are you keeping the prisoner’s horse?”

  “Yep. Let me know when you need ’im and I’ll have ’im ready for you.”

  “Appreciate it, Dusty. I’m on my way to check in with the sheriff. I’ll
know more after I see him.”

  Stoney left the livery and sauntered toward the jail. He was approaching the Pig and Whistle Saloon, the only watering hole in town, when the batwing doors swung open and Marcus LaRoach swaggered out.

  The man’s glare could’ve singed the hide off the meanest feral hog. It didn’t impress Stoney though. The pencil-thin mustache twitched when the scalawag’s lips tightened. Eyes glittered beneath the narrow brim of his bowler. His swollen nose and black eye made him look almost comical. Stoney held back a grin that threatened to form.

  LaRoach hooked his thumbs into a gun belt strapped around his waist and deliberately stepped into Stoney’s path.

  “I don’t cotton much to Rangers who think they can ride into someone’s town and take over. Neither does anyone else. You don’t belong here.”

  “That so?”

  “I own this town. I own Texanna Wilder and her snot-nosed brat. Did you know the boy steals? Whatcha think about that?”

  Stoney clenched his fist to keep from striking the lying varmint. He’d like to stick a pin in the man and see how much hot air would spew out. LaRoach definitely had an elevated view of his own importance. “I wouldn’t believe you if you said lemons are sour.”

  “I suppose you think you’re man enough to stop me?”

  He didn’t waste his breath with a reply. Towering above the wiry man dressed in a gambler’s finery, Stoney felt a muscle in his jaw bunch when he set his back teeth. “Step aside.”

  The beady eyes brimmed with hate. Hate made men do stupid things. Stoney kept his gaze trained on LaRoach’s hands, ready at a second’s notice to unleash his Colt from its holster.

  Training and steady nerves gave him the edge. He’d met up with a passel of men just like LaRoach, who thought they could bully people into doing what they wanted.

  He’d shown them the error of their ways. He could this one too, if it came to that.

  Stoney stood his ground even though they’d drawn a crowd. The milling people would make the pissant even less inclined to back down. The man had already lost face once today.

  Making sure his Colt was within easy reach, Stoney planted his feet. When he drew his pistol, he meant to use it. “A fellow might’ve thought you’d learned something this morning. How’s the nose?”

  A growl rumbled in LaRoach’s throat. “I owe you.”

  “Then either come collecting or go home. I’m getting a little tired of standing here waitin’.”

  Shielded by the low brim of his hat, Stoney’s narrowed gaze flicked to the edge of the crowd of gawkers. Texanna stood apart from the others. Anguish in her face and the chewing of her lip spoke of worry.

  She’d lost her husband, her security, and life as she’d known it. Except for a blind-as-a-bat old Ranger, not one person in town had stood up for her when LaRoach had bound her and dragged her through the street.

  Stoney had shown up and offered his help.

  He couldn’t take the sliver of hope from her that had brought a light to her eyes.

  Whatever else she’d done, the pretty lady had spunk. She was a good mother to Josh and she didn’t flinch from honest hard work. That counted for a lot. Maybe he’d been a mite too rough on her.

  Sitting at her table over breakfast hadn’t been all that difficult. In fact, it was downright pleasurable.

  Maybe she was right about dreams changing.

  Chapter 3

  Stoney considered his options. He could shoot Marcus LaRoach and spare everyone a lot of grief. Or he could walk away. Shooting the little pissant was looking more promising by the minute.

  All of a sudden a man wearing a sheriff’s badge barreled his way through the throng of people. The man’s deep, rumbling voice seemed to come from the tips of his toes. “Mr. LaRoach, you’re making a god-awful spectacle of yourself. You shoot him and you’ll have a mess of Texas Rangers breathing down our necks. You’ve never had a problem like you’ll have if you rile them up.”

  “I don’t pay you for advice, Sheriff. I know what I’m doing.”

  That seemed debatable. Stoney watched the exchange, curious to see if LaRoach would listen to reason.

  The sheriff sported shocks of long white hair and a snowy mustache that parted for his mouth and dangled below his chin. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “pompous ass” before he spoke aloud. “You pay me to keep the peace and that’s what I’m trying to do here. Don’t be stupid. This Ranger can take that hogleg away from you and stuff it down your gullet so fast your stomach’ll think it’s a tough hunk of meat. And he won’t even hafta draw his Peacemaker to do it.”

  Grudgingly, LaRoach backed out of Stoney’s way, but gave a parting shot. “You’re a dead man, Ranger. Make no mistake about that.”

  Stoney squinted beneath the low brim of his hat and fished a toothpick from his pocket. He stuck it in his mouth, wallowed it around for a moment, and drawled, “Any time. You’ll find me easy enough. I’ll be waitin’.”

  The scoundrel collected tattered remnants of his pride and stomped back into the Pig and Whistle, swinging the batwing doors nearly off their hinges.

  “Aw, don’t pay him no mind. He’s harmless.” The sheriff took out a pouch of tobacco and some rolling papers from his shirt pocket. “I’m Bill Ezra.”

  “Ranger Stoney Burke.”

  “Reckon you’ve come to collect the notorious Newt Colfax.”

  “Was on my way to the jail when I got waylaid.”

  “Reckon we can take care of that now, if you’ve a mind. Just show me your papers and you can march Colfax to the hoosegow in Menardville.”

  Stoney cast a glance to where Texanna had stood, chewing her lip. She was gone. He wasn’t surprised.

  He swung a quick glance at the barbershop, but she hadn’t opened it yet. Maybe she was writing down LaRoach’s measurements over at the undertaker’s. Or his. He let a wisp of a smile curve his lips before it vanished.

  Or she could be building a coffin. At that thought everything stilled inside him.

  Would she mean it for him or LaRoach?

  Stoney could imagine what a hard life she’d had since Sam Wilder’s death. If not for taking over the undertaking and barbering business, she and Josh probably would’ve starved.

  But what a grueling business for a woman, being an undertaker. When it was the only one around though, gender didn’t matter that much.

  Fort McKavett, some twenty miles to the east of Devils Creek, had a morgue, but the military had abandoned the operation a month earlier and closed the fort. Stoney had hated seeing the military leave the area. Riffraff and scum would seize the opportunity and make the Texas Rangers’ job of keeping a lid on the criminal element harder. The scourge of Scabtown, a settlement across the river from the fort, would spread like wildfire. Where there were lawless, there would always be a need for the Texas Rangers.

  His motto was to take one problem at a time though. And right now he had his hands full with ne’er-do-wells in Devils Creek.

  He tossed the toothpick aside and fell in step with Sheriff Ezra.

  “Want a smoke?” The sheriff held out the tobacco and rolling papers.

  “Nope. Appreciate the offer though.”

  While they walked, Ezra filled one of the thin papers with a row of tobacco and expertly rolled up a smoke. He propped the narrow cigarette in the corner of his mouth and struck a match on his pants leg. Stoney watched the whole procedure, glad he’d never taken up the habit. Couldn’t see the good in anyone drawing smoke into his lungs when they worked perfectly well without it.

  They had almost reached the jail when a small boy sprinted from an alley with at least a dozen men and women giving chase.

  “Stop him! He’s a thief,” a man with muttonchops yelled, shaking his fist.

  Stoney’s heart sank when he recognized the child.

  Josh Wilder.

  As if Texanna needed more problems.

  Bill Ezra’s age didn’t slow him down. The sheriff quic
kly intercepted the mob and stopped them before they caught the boy. “Goldarn it! Calm down. What’s the trouble?”

  Seizing the opportunity, Josh made a beeline for the shed that housed coffins and the black hearse. The frame structure sat adjacent to Wilder’s Undertaking Emporium.

  The white apron of Mr. Muttonchops flapped against his pant legs as he answered the sheriff’s question. “It’s that Wilder kid again. When are you going to do something about him?”

  “Whatcha want me to do, string him up? He’s just six years old. What did he take this time?”

  “He stole my account list. I have no way of knowing who owes for what,” Muttonchops exploded.

  “And he swiped a letter that just arrived from my brother in California,” said a heavyset woman. “Swiped it right out of my hand before I even had a chance to see what Leonard wrote.”

  Stoney didn’t wait for Sheriff Ezra; he strode toward the undertaker’s. This didn’t seem like the same boy who’d perched on his knee and looked up at him with tears in his trusting eyes. It concerned him that Josh might’ve taken up a dangerous habit. If so, it needed to be nipped in the bud, and fast.

  He prayed there had to be some logical explanation.

  Stepping inside, Stoney gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness. On first glance the shed appeared to be empty.

  But he’d plainly seen Josh scooting inside.

  Then he heard a faint scrape of wood coming from a coffin.

  His stomach turned over. He balked at disturbing the confines of a coffin, whether it held an occupant or not. But he had to find the boy.

  Stoney edged toward a newly finished pine box and eased up the lid. Curled up in a ball, Josh looked up at him with eyes that appeared too large for his small face.

  “What are you doing, little guy?”

  Trembling, Josh answered, “Hiding.”

  He gently reached for the boy’s arm. “Come on out. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Josh sniffled loudly. As he crawled out, he looked warily about, as though half expecting to see a lynch mob.