Carol Finch – The Ranger's Woman (страница 3)

Physically speaking, he was a rare specimen of brawn and muscle. Nothing like the gentleman dandies she was accustomed to. Not that she would ever be romantically interested in any of the suitors who treated her like a prize catch because of her wealth and affluence in polite society. Neither would she be interested in a man like this gambler, she assured herself sensibly.

Truth be told, Piper wasn’t sure she wanted any man in her life at the moment. And maybe never. She had given up on the idea of love and romance because she had never found a man who inspired her affection, no one who was willing to accept her for who she was.

The whole objective of this long jaunt was to gain control of her own existence without some man trying to dictate, manipulate and use her for his ulterior purposes, she reminded herself.

Her gaze narrowed in concern while she watched the gambler fish two silver dollars from the pocket of his gold brocade vest, then roll them over his fingertips. He had told her no more than three hours ago that thieves lurked in this area. Yet here he was, flashing coins that caught the rapt attention of the stage attendants.

Piper surged forward, tapping her cane in agitation. She clutched the gambler’s arm to draw him aside. “What the dickens are you doing?” she said with a quiet hiss. “Put those coins out of sight. You might as well send an engraved invitation to outlaws that you have money for the taking.”

Quinn stared down at the old crone who stood only a few inches over five feet tall. Her mouth, he decided, was bigger than she was and she never hesitated in using it. “Where did you get the idea that anything I do is your business?”

Her head snapped up and he knew instinctively that she was glowering at him. “Your carelessness and lack of discretion might affect me. Can’t you find something else to do besides flaunt your money?”

Quinn did exactly that. He pulled another cigar from his vest and lit it up. When he blew smoke over the top of that ridiculous-looking plumed hat she grew exasperated and tramped off. Her cane beat a sharp staccato on the trodden path.

“A relative of yours, gringo?” one of the stage attendants asked as his gaze followed the old battle-ax until she disappeared around the corner of the adobe station.

Quinn chuckled. “Not hardly. We just met. I’m hoping it will be a short acquaintance.”

To ensure that the attendants knew he carried valuables as well as money, he retrieved the expensive gold pocket watch to check the time. He also flashed the diamond ring he wore on his pinky finger. He noted the interest he had drawn from one of the Mexicans—the same man he remembered from his previous jaunts along this route. He took note of the fact that the man was wearing the same patterned red bandana around his neck that another attendant had been wearing at one of the relay stations.

Quinn frowned curiously as he ambled toward the barn to stretch his legs. As he recollected, at least one attendant at every stage stop between here and El Paso wore similar bandanas. Coincidence? He didn’t think so. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was how the ring of far-flung spies identified each other.

Quinn derailed from his train of thought when he heard a wild feminine shriek. Instinctively, he took off at a dead run. When he rounded the corner of the building he saw the widow plastered against the wall, staring at the mutt that bounded around her. When she jabbed her cane forward, the mutt gnawed on the end of it.

“Get away, you beast,” she said, scowling.

“Are you talking to me?” Quinn had to ask.

“No, this mongrel.” She jerked back the cane and the oversize pup approached her.

Quinn barked a laugh when the dog reared up on its hind legs and planted its saucer-size front paws on her bosom. “He’s not attacking. For some reason the pup likes you.”

That in itself surprised him because the old harridan seemed to go out of her way to ensure folks took a wide berth around her. He was still trying to figure out why.

“Get down!” she ordered the mutt. “And behave yourself. I have dealt with enough bad manners for one day.”

To his disbelief, the mutt sank down obediently on its haunches and stared adoringly at her. The dog was obviously so starved for affection that he was ready to align himself with the devil’s sister.

“That’s much better,” she cooed at the pup.

Quinn frowned, bemused by the abrupt change in her voice. His curiosity doubled when she reached down to scratch behind the pup’s floppy ear—the other one stood straight up. Whining, the mutt rolled onto his back, paws stuck in the air, so she could scratch his belly.

“Wonders never cease,” he murmured as he left the hag with her new friend—the first and last she would likely make during this trip—to get something to eat.

Piper waited until the gambler rounded the corner before she sank to her knees to give the pup another affectionate pat. The dog had startled her when he came bounding up from nowhere to pounce zealously at her. She had expected to be attacked, but from the looks of this scrawny creature all he wanted was food and affection.

“Come along, dog,” she encouraged as she got to her feet. “If this meal is as unappetizing to the palate as the one I had for lunch then you can have my portion.”

The pup bounded onto all fours and trailed along behind her—until the station manager gave him a kick in the flanks when he tried to walk inside. “Get out and stay out, you fleabag.”

Piper whacked her cane against the man’s shins before he could give the poor pup another painful kick. “Leave him alone!” While the barrel-bellied man glowered at her, she surveyed the shadowy dining area, listening to the buzzing of flies, noting the table still had food stuck to it from previous meals. “You may bring my meal outside and don’t be stingy with the portions. In fact, I’ll have two plates for supper,” she insisted as she plucked a coin from her reticule then handed it to the proprietor.

Leaving the man staring after her, Piper spun on her heels and hobbled off.

The pup followed devotedly behind her.

“That old lady sure is full of spit and vinegar, ain’t she?” the manager said to Quinn.

“Seems to be,” he murmured absently as he watched her move more swiftly than he might have expected of someone in her declining years.

The proprietor dipped up several cups of beans and sloshed them on the tin plates. “Here,” he said. “You take these out to the witch and tell her not to waste food on that mutt because he’s slated for execution. He showed up here two days ago and keeps trying to chase the horses for entertainment. I won’t put up with that. These horses have to stay in tip-top shape to pull the coaches.”

Carrying two platters of greasy beans, stale bread and a chunk of meat he couldn’t identify because it was burned to a crisp, Quinn strode over to the shade tree where the dragon lady had plunked down, her faithful mutt by her side.

“Don’t get too attached to the mutt,” Quinn cautioned as he handed her one plate and set the other one on the grass for the dog. “The manager is talking extermination. This could be the mutt’s last meal.”

Quinn started when the woman suddenly bounded to her feet with considerable speed and agility.

She thrust her plate back at him. “We’ll just see about that! Extermination indeed!”

And off she went, leaving Quinn to watch the mutt slurp up the beans, then devour the bread in two gulps. A moment later the crone approached, carrying another plate of beans. In disbelief, Quinn watched her set a second plate between the mutt’s oversize front paws.

“No one is going to turn you into tomorrow’s main course,” she told the dog in that nasal voice that reminded Quinn of someone raking fingernails across a blackboard. “Your miserable life just got better, dog. Wish I could say the same for mine.”

Quinn rolled his eyes when the woman plunked down to pat the mutt’s head while he gobbled the second helping of food. What was wrong with this woman? She could be civil and caring to a scroungy mutt, but she wanted nothing to do with him?

Well, what else was new? he asked himself as he handed her the supper plate, then walked off to take his meal indoors. He had been fighting for respect and acceptance for most of his life and never got it. He had been fighting, period. Hell, it was all he knew.

Since when did you start brooding over the hand fate dealt you, Callahan? You just play your cards the best you can and consider yourself lucky. Your life could be worse. You’ve already seen the worst humanity can rain down on each other. Just right the wrong and see to it that justice gets served.

Chapter Two

T his poor dog was not going to be rejected and cast off the same way her father had turned his back on her older sister, Piper decided as the gambler walked off. Indeed, part of the objective of this trip was to see that her sister received rightful compensation. She was here to ensure that at least one of Roarke Sullivan’s loud decrees didn’t stick. If Roarke hadn’t realized it yet, he would soon discover that he had lost control over both his daughters.