Carol Finch – The Ranger's Woman (страница 9)

Vowing that a pretty face wouldn’t sway him—and she definitely had that going for her—Quinn stalked over to tether the horses. While Piper watched him curiously, he reversed direction to retrieve his satchel and bedroll.

“What are you going to do? Surely you don’t intend to leave me in the middle of nowhere!” she howled at him.

“Surely I do,” he said, refusing to be influenced by the shocked expression on her beguiling features. “I’m tracking the outlaw gang that killed my best friend six months ago in a canyon near here. You’re on your own, lady.”

She stamped her foot and glowered at him. Ah, that feisty disposition wasn’t just an act, he noticed. The woman was teeming with indomitable spirit and fiery temperament.

“Now, see here, Cal. You can’t just ride off and leave me here, knowing I’ll probably die.” She wagged her finger in his face. “And if I do, I will come back to haunt you. You can depend on it.”

“I’m sure you will. But you’ll have to get in line. I’ve heard the same threat from a number of folks.”

When she scurried after him, he stopped short and then grunted uncomfortably when she slammed into him. “Look, lady, I’m going to change into my usual attire before I grab a horse and ride out. I suggest you change into something more practical for riding, unless you want to hang around here waiting for the eastbound coach to show up.”

“And when will that be?”

“In a couple of days.”

“A couple of days?” she wailed in frustration.

He watched her draw herself up and tilt her chin at him. Quinn blinked when the image of Agatha-the-hag superimposed itself on Piper. Scowling, he whipped around, then strode off to change clothes, refusing to give the lovely shyster another thought.

Piper watched Cal disappear from sight, then hurried over to rummage through her luggage for appropriate clothing. Knowing she would be living at an army garrison, she had packed two pair of riding breeches and blouses.

Casting a cautious glance over her shoulder to ensure Cal wasn’t spying on her, she tugged the padded gown down to her waist, then shrugged on her white blouse. Sparing another wary glance in the direction Cal had gone, she shoved the gown and petticoats past her knees, then snatched up her breeches and boots. When dressed, she crammed the padded gown, undergarments and valuables she had retrieved from Cal earlier into her satchel.

She staggered backward a few steps when Cal rounded the corner and stopped short to gape at her. He regarded her with the same astonished expression that she had trained on him. In the matter of a few minutes they had both altered their appearance drastically.

It took some getting used to.

Cal had cast off the flashy vest, white shirt and trousers. Now an Indian headband, decorated with beaded designs, held his long hair away from his face. Although he wore a white man’s black shirt, his muscular legs were encased in buckskin breeches, leggings and moccasins.

An ammunition belt hung diagonally across his broad chest and the double holster rode low on his hips. He carried a bullwhip that was coiled over his left shoulder, and he had a sheathed dagger strapped to his right thigh.

Now who was the imposter? she wondered suspiciously. He didn’t look to be a full-blood Indian, though the sun had darkened his complexion. But he definitely dressed like an Indian. Whoever or whatever this man was, she had the inescapable feeling that he wasn’t the tumbleweed gambler that he had impersonated.

“Who are you?” Piper demanded when she finally recovered her powers of speech.

“Quinn Callahan,” he replied as he gave her the once-over-thrice. “I’m a Texas Ranger.”

His penetrating stare caused her to shift uneasily from one foot to the other. This was proof positive that her disguise had been a good idea. Thanks to her disguise, she hadn’t had to deal with speculative male stares during her journey.

Whoever Callahan really was, she didn’t believe for a moment that he was a Ranger. He looked more like a half-breed renegade to her. In addition, she wasn’t sure she could trust him not to take advantage of her vulnerability while they were alone in the wilderness.

He looked her up and down once again. His expression was so unreadable that she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking…or planning to do to her.

“I hope you’re packing hardware, Piper,” he said before he strode past her to retrieve a horse. “You won’t last a half a day in this wilderness, especially dressed in that garb. That getup advertises every feminine asset you have. If you come across any other men of less moral fiber than I have then whatever righteous virtues you might have left will be gone by nightfall. Guaranteed.”

“Which is why I relied on a disguise for my protection,” she pointed out. “I am not a complete fool, you know. I am fully aware that men are not to be trusted. They always want something from a woman.”

Quinn chastised himself for glancing over his shoulder to admire the appealing sight of this shapely female. She was right, he admitted to himself. He would like something from her, too, although he wouldn’t allow himself to yield to the temptation.

He made it a policy to avoid devious women whenever possible.

But the damnable truth was that Piper was the most strikingly attractive woman he had ever laid eyes on. Plus, every time he stared too long at her he lost his train of thought. That was not good.

Everything male inside him had responded fiercely the instant he rounded the bend of the road—and saw her standing where Agatha Stewart should have been. Agatha he could have handled. This woman he wasn’t so sure about. She was a distraction of the worst sort at the worst time.

“You don’t look like a Ranger,” she said doubtfully. “I want to see proof.”

It wasn’t the first time he had heard that demand. Quinn retrieved his sidearm from his left holster, then dug out the tarnished star that he only flashed about while making arrests. “This good enough for you? Or this…” He waved the small, leather-bound book in her face. “It’s a fugitive list that gives the names and descriptions of wanted criminals. All Rangers carry them.” He stared suspiciously at her. “I bet if I looked closely I could probably find you in it.”

“I am not on anyone’s wanted list. Well, except for perhaps—” She jerked up her head and glared at him. “Don’t try to sidetrack me, Cal. The point is that you could have stolen that badge and that little black book.”

“Right, just like you probably stole the money you’re carrying. My guess is that you trussed yourself up like an overweight old widow to conceal your identity and throw lawmen off track. Then you hopped a stage for parts unknown,” he countered. “Admit it, I’m right about you, aren’t I?”

She stamped her foot in frustration again. “No, you couldn’t be more wrong! I did not steal anything! And if you really are a Ranger then you should be more concerned about my welfare instead of threatening to abandon me!”

He tucked the silver star in his holster. “If you want sympathy and concern you’re barking up the wrong tree, lady. I already have an important assignment, and you aren’t it.”

Quinn released one of the horses hooked to the team, then grabbed his knife to cut off a section of the reins to fashion a harness. He had brought along his own bridle, anticipating that he would have to confiscate a horse. But Piper needed a means to control her mount when she rode off—in the opposite direction that he was headed.

He flicked her a quick glance, noting that watching him create a makeshift harness had distracted her. He rather thought she looked impressed by his adaptability. Not that he cared what she thought of him, of course. The sooner he ditched her the happier he would be.

“Here.” He thrust the reins at her. “This makeshift tack will get you to the next stage stop. You can catch the next westbound coach that comes through, if that’s what you want to do. It makes no difference to me.”

Leaving her holding the reins to the horse, Quinn fished into his saddlebags to grab his bridle and bit. Then he strode over to pick out a horse for himself.

“I will pay you to escort me to the next station,” she negotiated.

“With what? Stolen money?” He eased the bit into the horse’s mouth and placed the bridle in proper position. “No thanks. I have more pressing things to do besides play nursemaid to an imposter and thief.”

“I am not a thief!”

He derived tremendous pleasure in throwing her own words back in her face. “Fine, then prove it.”

She stalked over to station herself in front of him, determined to gain his undivided attention. His betraying gaze dropped to her heaving bosom and he cursed himself soundly for being the least bit attracted to a woman who was far more trouble and frustration than she was worth.

“I didn’t lie to you when I said I was bound for Fort Davis. I’m on my way to join my sister, Penelope. She is married to Captain Matthew Duncan. Part of the money and jewels I’m carrying are compensation for my sister.”

Okay, so maybe he could believe that part since her last wish—while she was dangling off the cliff—was to contact her sister. But Quinn had been fed so many concocted and convoluted lies in his day that he had learned never to take anyone at his word until checking the story thoroughly. He had no way of knowing how or where she had acquired the money and valuables.