She studied him with grave intent, and a shadow of indecision fleeted across her forehead. “You’ll probably find this out anyway,” she began slowly as if each word had to be tested before spoken. “You might as well hear it from me.”
He tilted his head. She looked and sounded as serious as a sinner in a confessional. The tension between them felt almost palpable. “Hear what?”
She drew in her breath as if bracing herself against even more pain. “Have you heard of a man named Arthur Grant?”
“I reckon everyone’s heard of Grant,” he said. The man’s crime spree was way before his time, but it was still a topic of conversation among the senior Rangers. “Why do you ask?”
She took so long to answer that he’d almost given up on her and was about to repeat the question when at last she spoke. “He was my father.”
It took a moment for the full impact of her admission to hit him. “Your fa—”
She nodded. “I was the same age as Alicia when I watched him hang.” She shuddered as if the mere act of talking about it was too much to bear. “You have no idea what it’s like growing up as an outlaw’s daughter.”
Feeling bad for her, Matt was momentarily at a loss for words. It was hard enough having to deal with an outlaw brother. How much harder it must be to live under the shadow of a notorious father!
“I have a little idea,” he said at last. “My brother is a wanted bank robber.” He gently dabbed at the watery pearls rolling down her cheeks with his handkerchief.
Her eyes widened. “You’re a Texas Ranger and have an outlaw brother?” she asked, aghast.
Feeling the need to defend his brother, he said, “My pa was shot during a holdup, and my brother took his death hard. The whole family did.” It was still hard to believe how one tragic event had led him and his brother in opposite directions.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and this time, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm.
He looked down at the small, pale hand seeming to burn a hole through his shirtsleeve and covered it with his own. “Nothing I went through compares to what you must have gone through,” he said and lifted his gaze. “You were just a child. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to watch your father hang.” At least he hadn’t had to watch his father being gunned down.
Her expression softened, even as she looked at him with solemn eyes. “No one ever said that to me before,” she whispered.
Not sure what she was saying, he tilted his head. “No one?”
She pulled her hand away from his arm. “People were certain that my father’s bad blood ran through my veins.” Moistening her lips, she continued, “I wasn’t allowed to finish school or do any of the things that other kids could do. I didn’t even feel welcomed in church.”
As she described the ordeal, Matt thought of all the criminals he’d arrested or helped arrest in the past. He wondered how many of them had left children behind, children who were then shunned by society and forever scarred by their father’s actions.
“What about your mother?” he asked.
Her intake of breath told him that talking about her mother was no easier than talking about her pa. “Mama told me to ignore what others said. But that’s not easy for a child to do.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes, and this time, he wrapped his arms around her. Resting his chin on her head, he held her close and inhaled her sweet womanly fragrance. For several moments, neither of them said a word. At last, he felt her trembling body still and her soft sobs fade away.
Stirring in his arms, she looked at him through rings of wet lashes, and it was all he could do not to cover her quivering lips with his own. Fortunately, she pulled away, saving him from doing something he would surely regret. Her late husband was still a suspect, and that made her off-limits. Way off-limits.
She straightened her shoulders as if pulling herself together. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually…like this.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. If anyone should apologize, it was him, for wanting to kiss away her pain. For wanting to hold her until her memories of the past had faded. For wanting to fix everything in her world even though he had no right to. No right at all.
“Why did you tell me about your father?” he asked. It wasn’t the kind of thing one told a mere acquaintance.
She lowered her eyes before answering. “You’ve shown my daughter the kindness I never knew as a child.” Face brimming with emotion, she looked up and continued. “For that reason, you deserve to know why I resent you trying to link my husband to a crime. Never must my children feel ashamed or inferior as I was made to feel. I want them to grow up able to hold their heads up high.”
Her expression reminded him of a black bear he once saw defending its young. He felt for her, and a protective surge swelled in him once again.
“Their father died a hero,” Matt said.
“Yes, he did.” She lifted her chin. “And I aim to make sure he remains a hero.”
Matt drew in his breath. He could hardly deny his interest in her husband. “It’s not my intention to do anything that’ll harm you or your children.”
For the first time ever, he wished to God he wasn’t a Ranger. Wished he didn’t have a job to do. Wished he’d taken up carpentry instead, like his pa.
She opened her mouth to say something, but a knock at the door stopped her. This time, it was Jesse, and just like that, the tension in the room vanished.
Greeting the boy with a nod, Ellie-May complimented him on his haircut. “My, don’t you look all grown-up?” she said.
Her praise made Jesse grin. “Do I look like a real Texas Ranger?” He turned a circle to show off his new clothes.
“Absolutely,” Ellie-May said as she straightened his collar.
“I’m learning how to track bad guys,” Jesse said with a note of pride.
“That…that’s good,” she said. She glanced at Matt and cleared her throat. “I best be going.”
The look she gave him appeared to be filled with remorse, and Matt wondered if she regretted having been so open with him about her father. He tried thinking of something to say to relieve her mind but couldn’t. There was no denying that Neal Blackwell’s train ticket had been found at the crime scene. It also appeared that Blackwell had no known alibi for the time of the robbery. No matter how much Matt wished otherwise, Ellie-May’s deceased husband was still a prime suspect.
After bidding Jesse goodbye, Ellie-May left the hotel room without further ado, and Matt immediately regretted her absence. It was as if she’d taken the very air with her.
He hoped and prayed that Neal Blackwell was innocent, but the only way to prove it was to find the man Jesse had overheard talking to him. But what if the man provided proof of Blackwell’s guilt? What if the man was Blackwell’s partner in crime? Feeling as if he was about to land on a double-edged sword, Matt sighed. What then?
14
Ellie-May left the hotel in a hurry. Momentarily blinded by the sun, she adjusted her bonnet before hiking up her skirt and racing to her horse and wagon.
She was shaken to the core. Her original intent in telling Matt about her father had been to warn him. She’d wanted him to know that she would do whatever necessary to protect her children, even if it meant fighting him tooth and nail.
Never had she expected Matt to react as he had, and her cheeks flared at the memory of being in his arms. Instead of treating her with scorn as so many others had done, he’d wiped away her tears and comforted her. The sheer power of him had been hard to resist, and like a child, she’d sobbed in his arms and rested her head against his strong chest. Her senses were still whirling from the kindness he’d shown.
The kinship they’d shared when he’d told her about his brother was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Matt Taggert knew what it was
like to have an outlaw in the family, and for the first time ever, Ellie-May felt like she wasn’t alone.
No matter what happened in the future, no matter what unkindness was hers to bear, she could always fall back on the memory of being in the arms of the one person who truly understood.
Neal had tried his best to understand, he really had, and she would always be grateful for that. But they’d been married three years before he’d finally gotten around to telling her he’d shot his childhood friend. At first, she’d been angry that he’d taken so long to confide in her. His secret had created a block between them that had made her feel as though she was married to a stranger, and that feeling had never entirely gone away.
There had been so much she hadn’t known about her husband. Still didn’t know.
In contrast, she’d been acquainted with Matt Taggert for only a short time, but already she felt like she knew him better than she’d ever known Neal.
But that was only part of it. In the brief time she’d been exposed to Matt Taggert’s bare chest, she’d somehow managed to memorize every plane and ridge, every well-defined muscle.
Her heart thudded at the memory, and heat rose up her neck. The pleasure she felt in recalling the Ranger’s naked chest filled her with confusion and more than a little shame.
Since Neal died, she’d not given her own needs any thought. All she’d been able to think about were the children and the farm. Never once had she imagined herself being attracted to another man.
Had Jesse not arrived…
Dear God. What was she thinking? Nothing would have happened. She wouldn’t have let it happen. Hadn’t wanted it to happen.
Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. There had been that one crazy moment, while locked in his arms, when she’d wondered what his lips would feel like on hers.
Appalled at the memory, she shook her head as if to banish the thought and climbed into the driver’s seat. With a quick intake of breath, she reached for the reins.
If only Matt Taggert hadn’t looked at her with such tenderness… If only he hadn’t shown her daughter such unbelievable kindness. If only he hadn’t shared his own family shame.
Refusing to linger yet again on the memory of being held by him, Ellie-May shook the reins and drove slowly out of town. She needed time to calm her still-racing heart before returning to the farm.
As for Neal, his secret was safe, his reputation secure. The money was safely hidden, and no one need ever know what was buried beneath her porch. Still, it near broke her heart.
Oh, Neal. Why? Why would you do such a thing?
How she hated living with secrets. Hated that Neal had pulled her into his. Everything about the life they’d shared now seemed like a lie. Had she done something, said something that had made Neal think she’d been dissatisfied with their marriage? With him?
Sure, they’d struggled to make ends meet, but what local family hadn’t? Times had been tough. Still were.
Thoughts racing through her head like leaves in the wind, she left the town behind and turned up the road leading to her farm. Never had she felt more confused.
* * *
The lamplighter had already made his rounds by the time Matt and Jesse stopped for supper that night at the Feedbag Café. While Matt ate, Jesse continued eating. The boy had been scarfing down food all day.
After leaving the restaurant, they walked the distance to the Dead Line, which separated the moral part of town from the saloons and rowdy houses, and stopped beneath the sign that read THE WANDERING DOG SALOON. Saloons didn’t generally start buzzing until after dark, which was why Matt had waited until now to check them out.
“This where your pa likes to hang out?” Matt asked.
Jesse nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Matt pushed his way through the batwing doors. The place was packed, and the air hung heavy with the smell of tobacco, alcohol, and heated bodies.
After a quick scan of the noisy room, Matt asked, “So where is he?”
Jesse pointed to a corner table. “That’s Pa over there.”
Matt frowned. The same man had been slumped over the same table the last time Matt was at the saloon.
“Pa comes here every day,” Jesse said.
Matt clamped down on his jaw. “Along with every other drunk in town,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Matt glanced around. A few glaring looks were cast his way. Some folks hadn’t taken kindly to him asking questions about the town hero and had let him know it in no uncertain terms.
“Take a good look ’round and let me know if you see the man,” he said. “I’ll wait here by the door.”
Moments later, Jesse joined him, shaking his head. “He’s not here.”
Matt rubbed his chin. It was no more than what he’d come to expect. Maybe the sheriff was right; maybe the boy had taken him on a wild-goose chase. Not that Matt could blame him. Knowing what he now knew about the boy’s pa, he supposed the company of an unwilling Ranger was preferable to an empty house.
“Okay,” he said, softening his tone. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lad. “Go home and get some shut-eye.”
“What time do you want to meet in the morning?”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Meet me at nine for breakfast but…” He hesitated. “That’s where it ends. I’m leaving town on the three o’clock train.”
Jesse’s mouth dropped, and his eyes darkened with emotion. “But we haven’t found our man.” The dismay on his face echoed in his voice.
Matt felt bad, but there was nothing more to be done there, and it wasn’t in his nature to bide time. There were other outlaws to catch, his brother Charley among them.
“I’ve gotta get back to my company.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No.”
“I won’t be any trouble.”
“Jesse—”
“Pleeeeeeeeease.”
Matt blew out his breath. He hated having to say no to the lad, but what choice did he have? “We’ll talk about this tomorrow over breakfast. Now go home and get some shut-eye.”
Jesse looked about to argue but then turned and pushed his way outside through the swinging doors. Head low, back bent, he looked like he carried the weight of the world on his young shoulders.
* * *
Hours after leaving Jesse, Matt woke to the sound of loud banging.
“What the—?”
Battling his way out of bed, he staggered across the dark room. He felt for the brass knob and swung the door open. The flickering gaslight in the hall made him blink. “Not again,” he groaned.
“I saw him!” Jesse said, his voice high with excitement.
Since Jesse spoke loud enough to raise the dead, Matt hushed him and motioned him into the room.
Turning, he felt for the oil lamp on the bedside table. Guided by the ribbon of light streaming from the open door, he removed the glass globe and picked up the box of safety matches. “Saw who?”
“Our man.”
Striking a match, Matt lit the wick and replaced the globe. “Jesse—”
“Honest!” Jesse stepped into the room and closed the door. “He’s at Pa’s saloon.”
Matt studied the boy. He sure did look and sound sincere. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Matt picked his pocket watch off the bedside table and checked the time.
“It’s after one. Why aren’t you home in bed?”
Jesse lifted his chin. “I wanted to find him. Before you left town. So I kept checking all the saloons. I decided to check on Pa again, and there the man was. The bartender told me the man’s name is Roberts.”
“You got a name?” Now they were getting somewhere. Unless, of course, Jesse was trying to trick him into staying.
Jesse grinned. “Just doing what any good Ranger would
do.”
Matt studied the boy. “You better be telling the truth—”
“I am. You gotta believe me.”
Stifling a yawn, Matt reached for his trousers. “All right, we’ll check it out. But if I find that you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes…”
“I ain’t. Honest!”
Satisfied that the kid spoke the truth, Matt quickly dressed. Less than twenty minutes later, he and Jesse arrived at the Wandering Dog Saloon.
“That’s him,” Jesse said, pointing to a man at the bar. “Are we gonna take him to jail?”
“Can’t,” Matt said.
“Why not?”
“We…don’t have any proof that he’s done anything wrong.”
Jesse frowned. “So what are we gonna do?”
“I’m gonna talk to the man. And you’re gonna take care of your pa. Soon’s I’m finished here, I’ll help you get him home.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, Ranger!”
Jesse clenched his jaw, but he straightened his shoulders and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Shaking his head, Matt walked up to the bar and with a nod at Droopy, the bartender, took his place next to the man named Roberts. Of medium build and height, the man’s unremarkable features made him hard to describe. Not even his crooked nose helped.
Acknowledging Matt with a brief nod, Roberts returned to his drink.
Matt was careful not to do anything threatening to make the suspect put up his guard. After casually chatting with the bartender, he ordered a shot of whiskey, which he left untouched.
He leaned sideways to make sure the man heard him over the noise. “Name’s Taggert. Matt Taggert.”
The man turned his head to stare at him, as if he couldn’t decide whether to state his name. “Roberts,” he said at last. “Dave Roberts.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Roberts,” Matt said and offered his hand. The man had the shifty-eyed look of a dishonest horse trader.
The two of them shook hands, and Matt ordered Roberts another drink. He waited for the bartender to refill Roberts’s glass before getting down to business.
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