He could think of a better way to spend his afternoon. Like kissing a cinnamon-haired beauty until she melted into sweet surrender. Laney had tasted like pure adventure taken human form, and he couldn’t wait to see where that took them. He’d wanted to sweep her up into his arms, take her in and lock the shop door, and spend the afternoon showering her with bone-melting kisses. And he would have. She had wanted him to. He had tasted it in her kiss, felt it in the way she’d not shied away from stoking the fire that had burned between them. But that brother-in-law of hers had shown up. The man was getting to be a burr in Thomas’s boot.
If Maher would ever call it a day, Thomas planned to pay Mr. Dannell O’Grady a visit and see what his problem was.
“Hey, there’s a lion loose!” someone yelled, running in from the street. “And a nanny goat is chasing him. Somebody call the constable.”
A dozen men ran to the door, reporters readying their Kodaks for a picture of the newsworthy excitement.
Thomas jumped up from the booth and shouldered his way through the crowd, but the reporters wouldn’t get out of the way. “Move,” he ordered, drawing his revolver to raise it and fire a warning shot, if necessary.
“No need to waste good gunpowder, lad,” Maher called from behind him. “You’ll have to square off with Fitz if you shoot his sparring partner. That two-hundred-pound puss is Nero, his pet. Bob will be following, you can bet on it.”
“That goat must be Princess,” the reporter in front of Thomas quickly informed everyone. “Baby Bob Jr.’s milk supply. Wonder what Nero did to butt horns with her?”
“Hey, Maher, you’re right as daylight. Here comes Fitz. He’s running like a steam engine,” said another onlooker. “And there’s two fellas chasing him.”
Rangers, Thomas knew without seeing. The two assigned to follow Fitzsimmons. He put his gun away, backing off to let them do their job. They didn’t need three heroes chasing a lion on the loose.
“He’s going to try to tackle the beast. Get out of my way so I can get a picture,” one of the reporters marveled, jockeying into position for a better shot. “My readers won’t believe this.”
Other reporters jotted down facts as fast as they could on anything they could get their hands on.
Maher laughed at the men standing in awe at the doorway and window of the gallery. He squinted and took a perfectly aimed shot at the metal trumpeter. “It’s the goat he better take down for the count first. Remember, you said that Princess was chasing Nero.”
A ferocious roar rent the air, echoing in unison with the trumpeter’s bugle. One of the onlookers turned around and sputtered, “How’d you know that, Pete? That goat just butted ol’ Nero in his hindsight. That big kitty is one mad puss.”
“That’s what I said, lads.” Maher’s eyes twinkled with challenge. “Ruby Bob Fitzsimmons doesn’t know how to deal with us old goats just yet.”
Everybody laughed, including Thomas.
The crowd watched the scene play out in the streets, calling back the details of the unusual battle between lion and goat. A mighty paw swung, a goat dodged and butted the cat in the side. Nero let out another mighty roar.
All of a sudden one of the men in the crowd started yelling, “Look out, lady! Go the other way!”
Like a giant wave rushing away from shore, the crowd was on the move, a hundred men sweeping out of the gallery door, taking Thomas with it.
“She can’t hear us,” a reporter yelled. “She’s got her head down against the wind, pedaling for all she’s worth.”
“He’ll tear her limb from limb.” Panic filled another man’s tone. “He tore Fitz’s bicycle in two back in December, remember? Chewed it in half, he did.”
Thomas’s heartbeat thundered in his veins as every sense went into danger alert. A woman. On a bicycle. An enraged male African lion ready to mangle. Please God, please don’t let it be her. Don’t let it be Laney.
He shoved his way into the street, running as hard as he could, drawing his weapon and straining his eyes to catch sight of the woman.
Apparently God was busy and wasn’t listening.
“Laney, for God’s sake, look up!” Thomas yelled, taking deadly aim at the lion. Put one scratch on her and I’ll cut you up and serve you to that damned goat for dinner, he vowed silently. “There’s a lion in the street!”
She glanced up and froze, her body jerking forward as she stopped pedaling. He feared she might go over the handlebars. The lion caught sight of the bike and leapt. The goat took off down a side street. Thomas started to squeeze the trigger when Bob Fitzsimmons’s back suddenly came into view.
Thomas’s finger jerked away, trembling at what he’d almost done. Fitzsimmons tackled Nero and took him down. The two Rangers who’d been giving chase had to stop abruptly. They lost their footing and went head over boot.
Thomas’s hand shook as he realized that if he had fired the shot, the bullet would have hit Laney, not the downed lion. He ran as fast as he could toward her, calling her name, telling her everything would be all right.
She seemed in a daze, white knuckles clutching the handlebars, her normally rosy cheeks now ashen.
He finally reached her, shoving aside the two Rangers who had regained their footing and were trying to get her to move to a safer place. “Stand back, everyone,” he ordered, authority ringing in his voice. “She knows me. She’ll listen to me.”
The crowd who had finally caught up with him gave him no argument, keeping a respectable distance.
“Laney, it’s me, Thomas,” he said gently, touching her death grip on the handlebar, trying to make it ease. “You’re safe now.”
A visible shudder traveled from the top of her head to her shoes as her eyes blinked and finally focused on him. “Thomas?”
He took her hand and gently tugged, urging her to move off of the bicycle.
“I need to tell Maher that I’m not done with the gloves,” she whispered. “He can’t fight tonight. He’s got to stall the fight.”
“I’ll tell him,” he assured her, knowing she was not really hearing him, but sensing that she needed some kind of reassurance.
Relief eased her features for a fragmented moment, then her body shuddered once more and crumpled into his arms.
Chapter 10
The Gloves Come Off
Someone was watching her. Laney sensed it even as she fought to open her eyes. Her lashes parted, only to blink rapidly at the sight before her. A vaulted ceiling of some kind. Pleated patterns of light on the wall. The strange odor of cigar smoke and something musky and male.
“Laney. Laney, you’ve got to wake up, love,” she heard a familiar voice say, yet she couldn’t place to whom it belonged. She blinked again, trying to stir her memory. Hoping to remember who loved her.
“She’s coming around,” someone announced.
“Get her some water,” someone else suggested. Men, she decided from the deep tones that echoed in her ears. I’m in the company of men.
“Help her sit up.” A feminine voice took charge. “And all of you back away. You’ll scare her to death.”
Several voices blended now, making her aware that many people were with her. It was then Laney realized that she was lying on something hard. Her fingertips reached out to test the edges of her bed and discovered that it was not very wide and somehow elevated. She was inside a building somewhere, of that she was almost certain. But hadn’t she been outside, pedaling her way up…?
“A lion!” she gasped, jerking to a sitting position. She started swinging, defending herself against the lion she believed was charging her. “There’s a lion in the street, watch—”
“Whoa there, feisty.” An arm swept her sideways, pulling her into a broad, comforting wall of flesh. “You’re safe, Laney. It’s all right. The lion’s been caught.”
“Thomas?” She recognized him now, her fists uncurling and her fingers racing to grab hold of him. Relief coursed through her as the quiet strength of his voice offered reassurance and ca
lmed the uncertainty of not knowing for sure where she was and how she had reached safety.
“I’m here, Laney. I won’t leave you.”
“Tell us what you thought when you saw that beast charging you,” a man asked, a sudden flash from a camera sending a puff of smoke into the air.
A hundred voices seemed to mingle at once, volleying question after question in Laney’s face. Reporters, crowding in to get the details. She was in a room full of reporters ready for an outrageous headline. “Get away from me.” She glared at them, wanting to do nothing but bury her head into the protective wall of Thomas’s chest, but refusing to allow the newshounds to swoop down upon her. Still, she could understand their curiosity. Who would have believed such a thing could happen, and in El Paso, Texas, of all places!
“You heard the lady. Get out…now!” ordered Thomas, the muscles beneath Laney’s fingertips hardening into granite. Though he stood like a warrior now, ready for the fight, he held her securely. “Wait outside.”
“Let me down.” Laney pushed Thomas’s hand away and swung her legs around to get off the table that had become her makeshift bed. She was in some kind of parlor. A man’s gaming parlor. A quick glance at the lettering on the front windows revealed it was a shooting gallery. There was only one such place in El Paso. The lady’s voice she heard must have been Mrs. Darrow’s.
“You have no say in keeping us from getting our story,” argued the reporter who had taken the picture. “You just want an exclusive.”
Others mumbled their agreement.
Thomas’s hand dipped into a pocket inside his vest and tossed something on the table. “I have all the say I want.”
“He’s a Ranger,” said the echo over the gallery as Laney caught sight of the silver star that lay there for all to see.
“A Ranger?” Pete Maher’s voice moved through the crowd. “Let me see.”
The crowd parted and allowed the boxer to come face-to-face with Thomas. Laney’s heart quickened as she realized that Mr. Maher might not be pleased to discover that a Ranger had been following him all this time. Would he wonder why she hadn’t told him of Thomas’s true identity?
It was then that memory struck her, full-blown. She had told Thomas why she was pedaling so hard. She had whispered why she needed to find Mr. Maher. Now Thomas knew about the gloves.
“So you’re the one.” Pete eyed Thomas from head to foot. “I heard two of you boyos were assigned to shadow me. I figured out your Las Cruces man from day one, but you I wasn’t sure about until today.” His gaze swept to Laney. “Is the lass in cahoots with you?”
The gloves. Laney’s stomach churned and she found it difficult to concentrate. Now he would never buy them. She wouldn’t get the bonus money. Gideon might be lost to her forever. Suddenly she felt more vulnerable than the moment before, when she’d faced the wall of reporters.
“I told you vultures to get out.” Thomas’s voice thundered off the gallery walls. Several reporters didn’t need any further argument from him and rushed outside. For those who dawdled, Thomas rested his hand on his gun and finished his warning. “The lady and Mr. Maher have business to discuss. I insist that the rest of you let them do that alone.”
The remainder of the crowd did as the Ranger ordered, but a few brave souls pressed their noses up against the windowpanes to peer in. Mrs. Darrow brought in a pitcher and water glasses and set them on the table, then hurried back into the room that must have served as some kind of kitchen.
Thomas poured a glass of water for Laney and handed it to her, then held out a chair for her to sit in. When she took her seat and drank from the glass, she watched both men over its rim.
“Water?” Thomas asked, pouring a glass for Maher.
The boxer accepted it and drank it in a matter of gulps, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Thanks. Now that we’ve got the pleasantries over with, lad, I’d like an answer to my question. Is she part of your scheme?”
Thomas shook his head. “Mrs. O’Grady is only guilty of whatever the two of you’ve designed together.”
The boxer didn’t look convinced. “Then why did she let me think you were a reporter instead of letting me know your real profession?”
Thomas told the truth. “Because that’s what I led her to believe. I believe you pugilists call it a feint.”
Maher smiled, relieving the tension that Laney could almost taste in the air between the two men. “Well, you’re good at it, lad. Fooled me, you did, and I’m not an easy taker.” His gaze swept over Laney appreciatively. “She’s one worth protecting, from the look of her. My gloves would come off, too, for someone like her. You’re a lucky man.”
Laney realized what the boxer was saying. Thomas had put his job on the line. He’d revealed himself to all concerned and now everything he did from here on in during his stay in El Paso would be met with caution from others. His job would be much harder because of her. No more easy discussions around him, thinking he was just a curious reporter ready to encourage the fight to take place so he could entertain his readers. They all now knew that he would stop the fight by any means possible.
He had not hesitated to protect her, despite the cost to himself personally. She needed to repay him somehow for that extraordinary act of kindness. But how? What could a man like Thomas Longbow possibly need?
The two men started quietly discussing Laney making the gloves for Maher. Unfortunately, Laney was still too out of it to understand what they were saying, and others in the gallery could hear them addressing the pros and cons of having the fight. Laney thought of all the things she’d learned about Thomas since meeting him. There really wasn’t much about the Ranger that hinted at something he might need or want, other than the clear message that he wanted to make more of the kiss they’d shared.
Laney couldn’t allow her thoughts to linger there or the men would surely think she’d taken on the vapors again. She forced herself to concentrate on other aspects of Thomas and what she knew of him. The one thing that seemed to consume the Ranger was his role in making sure the fight did not take place, and the delay that meant keeping him in El Paso. Well, despite what he thought, she didn’t really know when the battle would occur, only that Maher planned for it to happen. Otherwise, the boxer wouldn’t be going to so much trouble in getting a new pair of gloves.
The one thing Laney did know for certain was that the fight couldn’t take place tonight. She wasn’t finished with the gloves and she needed one more night to complete them. Maybe that’s all she could give Thomas—one more fight-free night.
“Mr. Maher.” She interrupted the men’s discussion. “I was headed here to let you know that your order won’t be finished before tomorrow.” She eyed Thomas cautiously to see if he would divulge what she had whispered to him in a state of mindless fear. “I had heard that you might need that order tonight, but I’m afraid there’s no way it can be completed by then.”
Thomas remained silent, and Laney could only thank him silently for not speaking up to ask more. For whatever reason, he was continuing to protect her from losing the order.
Peter Maher frowned, making Laney finally aware that his eyes were better than when she’d seen them earlier that morning. Had the rumors been true? Was the boxcar Dannell had mentioned being put into position for a rendezvous tonight? Had Mr. Maher been ready to meet Fitz? How would he react to this delay?
The boxer’s gaze swept from Laney to Thomas then back again, as if he were eyeing future opponents and gauging their abilities. “In the morning it will be, then, lass,” he agreed. “I’ll check and see how it’s coming, say around seven o’clock.” One of his fists pounded into the open palm of his other hand, offering a resounding thwack that echoed over the parlor. “That sound too early for you, Ranger?”
“You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?” Thomas laughed, though his eyes were sharp with intent.
Laney watched as Pete Maher reached over and grabbed the silver badge off the table, flipped it to Thomas
, and said, “Easy’s for lesser men. And it wouldn’t be me I’d spend my time following, Ranger.” He stopped at the door before opening it to the horde of reporters who waited outside. “I’d not let that pretty little scrapper out of my sight, if I were you. Even if she isn’t any good at lying.”
At the sound of swishing skirts in the room just beyond the front gallery, Laney’s head turned. Mrs. Darrow. She’d forgotten about the gallery owner. She must have overheard everything. No telling who would now learn about the situation. And worst of all, Mrs. Darrow and Dannell were friends.
“Seven’s perfect,” Pete Maher stressed.
She realized that he’d deliberately chosen tomorrow’s time for more reason than to pester Thomas. He was reminding her that it was all right if someone had discovered what he’d ordered. He just wanted to make sure the exact design of seven shamrocks was kept secret.
Chapter 11
Sidestepping
The Chinese inhabitants of El Paso were in full throttle celebrating their New Year, the Year of the Monkey, and weaving their parade through downtown. The “Celestials,” as the local paper called them, were not the only ones causing distraction for the sleepless Texas Rangers.
Under the alert noses of the Ranger force stationed at the rail head, Dan Stuart and his associates had still managed to move out enough lumber and men to build not one, but two dummy boxing rings as decoys. No one could find the railcars containing the tent, lumber, and movie equipment.
Thomas had barely seen Laney back to the shop when General Mabry called a meeting with him and the other men assigned to Maher and Fitzsimmons. The Vendome looked more like a command center now than a hotel. One look at General Mabry’s fierce expression when Thomas entered the dining room would have warned off any man with a shred of sense about him. Thomas didn’t envy whoever had caused Mabry’s sour mood.
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