The Ranger's Woman

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.

Resolved of purpose, Piper made sure the mutt was well fed and bathed and approached the waiting coach. When she alighted inside the gambler squinted at her.

“About time. We’re ten minutes behind schedule.”

The crooked smile that came and went in the blink of an eye suggested that he was purposely taunting her. Piper rose to the occasion. “Can’t imagine that it would matter much to a man who has no particular place to go and has no pressing engagement when he gets there.” She shoved his long muscled legs sideways with her heel to grant her half the floor space.

She snapped her fingers at the mutt that stared hopefully up at her. “Well? Are you coming or not?” When she patted the space beside her on the seat the dog launched himself inside, his wet tail banging against the opened door.

“You are kidding,” the gambler said in astonishment as he watched the pup turn a tight circle, then plunk down next to her. “You both smell like wet dog.”

“I have heard that cleanliness is next to godliness,” she countered.

He smirked. “Didn’t know God categorized folks by how often they bathed.”

“Perhaps not but I didn’t want the mutt to offend you when he climbed aboard with me. I certainly wasn’t going to leave him behind to die.”

“You’re all heart, ma’am.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

Piper hated to admit it, but she actually enjoyed their banter. Thus far, the other male passengers had let her be after one or two of her pointed remarks. But this gambler gave as good as he got. Plus, he hadn’t tried to impress her with polished manners and premeditated charm. Not that he had any to spare, of course. The fact that she found this man intriguing and physically appealing astounded her.

“By the way, what is your name? I see no reason for me to keep referring to you as the no-account gambler,” she teased.

“Cal.”

“Cal what?”

“Just Cal. Short and sweet.”

“Short, yes,” she said, chuckling. “But I’m not so sure about sweet.”

When he leaned toward her the mutt jerked up his head. But Cal didn’t seem the least bit alarmed that the dog had become protective of her. She rather suspected that he was trying to get a better look at her through the dark veil.

He tossed her a mocking grin. “What should I call you besides the nagging old hag?”

“Agatha Stewart,” she said without missing a beat.

“Agatha,” he repeated, rolling the name off his tongue. “Somehow that fits you. So…are you going west to torment anyone in particular?”

She snickered in amusement. “Just my sister. Luckily we are a great deal alike,” she replied, wondering why she was daring to spend so much time conversing with Cal. She knew she would be better off if they traveled in silence. But she had to admit that she was curious about him and wanted to get to know him better. “Do you have family somewhere, Calvin?”

His dark brows flattened and he frowned at her. “The name is just plain Cal.”

“So you say,” she said with a dismissive flick of her gloved hand. “Where does your kin call home?”

Something flickered in his eyes that made Piper think she had accidentally hit an exposed nerve. When he settled himself deeper into the seat and folded his arms over his broad chest, as if closing himself off from her, she stared bemusedly at him.

“I don’t have kin, Agatha.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she murmured sincerely.

He shrugged. “Forget it.” A moment later a lopsided smile crossed his sensuous lips—and confound it, she was annoyed with herself for noticing. “I’m sure you just couldn’t help yourself. Meddling probably comes naturally.”

Piper was enormously affected by his smile because it altered his entire appearance and changed her perception of him. For the first time in their association she sensed hidden warmth in him, a flicker of humanity. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a good-for-nothing as she had first thought.

He had tried to upright her when the bouncing coach sent her plummeting onto the floorboards. He had also been the only one to rush to her rescue when the oversize mutt had startled her. Plus, he had carted out food to her for supper.

He was not without a few saving graces, she realized.

“I hail from Galveston,” she said conversationally, careful to keep the nasal twang in her voice. “My family is disgustingly rich and I have been pampered and spoiled my whole life. Extenuating circumstances, which I won’t bore you with, have made me wary and cynical.”

“Then we are the perfect traveling companions,” he replied. “We may seem like exact opposites, but I suspect we are very much alike.” He nodded his head toward the pup sleeping contentedly beside her. “Like the mutt, I’ve been kicked around, cursed, ridiculed and rejected most of my life. I’m a mite cynical and suspicious myself, but for entirely different reasons. So…are we about done with the idle chitchat, Agatha? It’s not one of my best talents.”

“I do believe we are done with the chitchat,” she said as she settled back on the seat.

His previous comment about leading a hard life aroused her curiosity. But Piper cautioned herself not to become overly intrigued by a man who was never going to be more than a temporary footnote in this chapter of her life.

“I could use some shut-eye,” he mumbled.

That said, he pulled down his Stetson hat, swung his muscled legs up on the seat and settled in for a nap.

Left with nothing to do—a hazard of lengthy overland coach travel—Piper stared out the window. She surveyed the rugged mountains that rose in the distance, admiring the looming peaks that were swathed in the red-and-purple hues of the sunset.

When the coach hit a bump in the road, she braced herself against the window frame, then patted the mutt’s head when he stirred beside her. Piper noticed that Cal simply shifted on the seat and braced his feet to counter the jarring motion of the coach. This time it looked as if he were actually sleeping rather than faking it.

Piper decided she might as well catch a nap, too. What else was there to do besides contemplate the man across from her? She had thought about him entirely too much already.

Somewhere around midnight, the coach ground to a halt and Quinn groaned tiredly. Having traveled this route recently he knew they had reached the isolated trading post that rented upstairs rooms to passengers. He stretched his arms and worked the kinks from his back. An amused smile quirked his lips when he noticed Agatha had conked out and lay at an uncomfortable angle on the seat. The dog had curled up between her bent knees and her outflung right arm.

Damn if Quinn could figure out why that mutt was so devoted to the old woman.

Well, yes, he could, come to think of it. Persnickety and outspoken though she could be, she seemed to have a soft spot for strays. She had defended the mutt’s right to survival against anyone who dared to cross her. It was encouraging to know that beneath Agatha’s prickly armor of defense beat a kind and caring heart.

He doubted, however, that she wanted many people to know that because it would destroy the standoffish air she tried to project. But why she wanted to keep people at arm’s length he couldn’t figure out. Of course, there were several things about Agatha that puzzled him, he reminded himself.

Quinn reached over to nudge her shoulder, which seemed to be strangely well padded. He wondered if it was her insulation against the rough coach ride from Galveston. “Agatha,” he murmured. “Wake up. There’s a cot with your name on it at this trading post.”

Her quiet moan surprised him. It sounded nothing like the grating voice he was accustomed to hearing from her. Frowning, he studied her in the dim lantern light that sprayed through the window. Yep, there was definitely something about this old hag that didn’t quite add up.

The thought turned to a flash of pain when she came awake with a start and accidentally banged her head into his chin when she pushed herself upright. His teeth snapped together so quickly that he bit his tongue.

“Oh, sorry, Calvin. Where are we? What’s going on? Are we being robbed?” she demanded in an unfamiliar voice.

“No, we’ve just stopped for the night,” he said, studying her suspiciously.

Abruptly, she became the old woman he thought he knew. Her voice changed, and so did her manner. Her image shifted before his eyes as she clutched her cane, then tapped him on the shoulder with it.

“You climb down first. I’ll be behind you when I get my wits together.”

And so he climbed down. He also waited beside the coach—just in case she stumbled and needed a hand down. The dog bailed out first and trotted off to the nearest scrub bush. Then Agatha’s plumed hat and veil came into view. For a split second Quinn thought he caught sight of her face in the light, but she ducked her head so quickly that he couldn’t tell what she looked like.

Having been warned off previously, he didn’t offer to take her hand, but he waited nearby in case she found herself in need of his support. He watched as she carefully extended her foot to the step. She anchored her hands on the door frame, then stepped down beside him.

“Nice place.” She smirked as she scanned the shabby stone and timber trading post that had been built at the base of the rugged mountains. “I’ve heard this part of Texas referred to as Hell’s Fringe. It seems to fit.”

“At least the place is reasonably clean,” he reported as he fell into step beside her. He flashed her a wry grin. “It even has a tub upstairs for those of us who need to bathe. Naturally, I’ll want to spiffy up so I won’t offend you.”

She burst out with a hee-hee-hee, much to his amazement. “Oh, come now, Calvin, surely you know me well enough by now to realize that I would have insisted that you ride up top with the driver and guard if I found you offensive.”

Curiosity got the better of him as they entered the crude trading post. “Let me guess, you ousted someone during the first leg of your journey. Forced them up to the luggage rack, did you?”

“Of course I did. The two heathens reeked of whiskey and turned offensively obnoxious. The stench was so overpowering that it made my eyes water. If I were younger I would have climbed atop the coach to avoid them.”

“It might help if you discarded that thick veil,” Quinn suggested. “It probably traps in smoke and foul aromas.”

“And expose this horribly disfigured face of mine?” she scoffed. “Trust me, Calvin, this veil is for your convenience and protection as much as mine.”

When the proprietor—who, according to the wooden plaque on the counter was named Ike—objected to the mutt following Agatha inside, she chastised the mammoth of a man. It wasn’t until she offered a silver dollar to pay for the mutt, that the proprietor backed off.

“Okay, lady, but keep that mangy animal off the bed,” Ike insisted harshly.

“Deal. But I just bathed him. He is as clean as the rest of us. And certainly much easier to get along with,” she said with a disgruntled sniff.

She plucked the key from his beefy hand and swept off, her cane thumping rhythmically against the floor and the steps as she disappeared from sight.

“Feisty old witch,” Ike muttered after her.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Quinn slammed his mouth shut, wondering why he was defending Agatha.

Apparently, Ike was wondering the same thing because he blinked at him in surprise. “That your granny or something?” he asked as he handed over the room key.

“No, but if I had one I’d want her to be just as full of sass and spunk as Agatha. She doesn’t take any guff and she doesn’t let anyone push her around. You gotta admire that about her.”

“Do I?” Ike pocketed the extra dollar. “Don’t see why I should. I get paid the same for meek and complacent customers, ya know.”

Quinn waited for the guard to haul in their luggage, and then carried his and Agatha’s belongings upstairs. When he knocked on her door, she opened it only slightly to determine who had arrived.

“Thank you, Calvin. You are turning out to be more considerate and sociable than I first thought.” She grabbed the handle of her oversize bag and dragged it into her room. “Well, good night. Don’t forget to check for bedbugs.”

“I’ll do that,” he said before he turned and walked away.

Piper waited until she heard his door click shut before she peeled off her veiled hat. She unpinned her long, silver-blond hair and shook it loose, letting it tumble down her back in springy curls. She breathed a long-awaited sigh of relief when she stepped from the cumbersome gown. No wonder she was so tired, she mused as she draped the heavily padded garment over a nearby chair. She wasn’t accustomed to carrying around this extra weight night and day.

She smiled fondly when the mutt plopped down at her bare feet. “Too bad you aren’t a man,” she said. “You, I would enjoy dealing with on a regular basis. Loyal, devoted and true-blue. Unlike most men I’ve met.”

On that thought, Piper stretched out in bed and promptly fell asleep, thankful not to be bouncing around in that dreadful coach and have her stomach churning constantly.

At dawn, Quinn headed down to the spring-fed creek to bathe and change into a clean set of clothes. He’d heard Agatha thumping down the hall earlier, requesting that Ike prepare her bath, so he granted her the luxury of the tub while he sought out more primitive accommodations.

After snooping around the barn, Quinn noticed a new hireling—a thin, wiry white man who wore a bright red bandana, which was tied in exactly the same place on his left shoulder as the attendant he had encountered the previous afternoon. Pulling the silver dollars from his pocket, Quinn wandered over to strike up a conversation while he rolled the coins over his fingertips. He also boasted about the big jackpot he had won at the gaming tables in Fort Stockton.

As he strolled off, he asked himself how a ring of spies might discreetly communicate their information about prospective targets when they were miles apart. Frowning pensively, he circled the coach that waited unattended while the guard and driver ate breakfast.

“Bingo,” Quinn murmured when he noticed the red bandana wrapped around the handle of the strongbox. Not only was he carrying the tempting bait of extra money, but also there must be valuable loot in the strongbox. Plus, the potential profit of whatever Agatha was carrying in her reticule.

When he heard voices he veered away from the back of the coach. His anticipation mounting, he predicted that he would finally hit pay dirt during the next leg of the trip. His only concern was how Agatha was going to react if this stage was held up. He could visualize her squaring off against the bandits and trying to protect the money she obviously carried.

If the stage were indeed robbed he would have to caution her to be careful what she said and did.

Amused, he watched Agatha toddle outside to set down a plate of food for the mutt. Agatha paid no attention to Ike who towered over her, complaining that he didn’t want the dog eating off “people” plates.

“Stop fussing at me, Ike. All I’m doing is keeping this poor dog from starving to death. It won’t hurt you to give the plate a good scrubbing.”

Quinn bit back a grin when Agatha flounced off and Ike sent a rude gesture flying behind her. Scowling, Ike lurched around and lumbered back into the trading post. Quinn had to agree that Ike was making a mountain out of a molehill and that Agatha was right. His plate had dried food caked on it and it could have used a good scrubbing.

“What are you smiling about this morning?” Agatha asked as she came toward him.

He opened the door of the coach for her. “I enjoy watching you set folks straight, as long as it isn’t me,” he said dryly.

When she climbed in, he caught a whiff of her appealing perfume. It reminded him of the wild lilac bushes that grew around his childhood home.

And that was about the only fond memory he had retained from childhood.

Well, no sense dredging that up, he told himself while he waited for the pup to bound into the coach. His life hadn’t been a fairy tale. So what? He had learned a long time ago to endure. As far as he could tell that’s what life was about.

“Are you getting in, Calvin, or do you plan to stand there woolgathering? And where are the driver and guard?” She looked him up and down, then said, “You look nice this morning in that colorful red vest.”

“Thanks,” he said, startled by the unexpected compliment.

As if on cue, the driver and burly guard scurried outside. For a moment Quinn appraised the shaggy-haired guard, wondering if he might be in on the robberies. He would make sure to keep a close eye on the man if they were held up so he could watch how he reacted.

Three hours later, as the coach bounced over the rock-strewn path that wound through a mountain pass, an eerie sensation skittered down Quinn’s spine. He jerked to attention to survey the looming granite walls that rose on each side of the narrow pass.

Soon, came the instinctive voice inside his head. He could almost feel danger looming in the distance, having dealt with it so often in the past.

He glanced at Agatha, who was carrying on a one-sided conversation with the mutt. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Her head snapped up and she tensed. “About what?”

“All my instincts tell me trouble is lurking. Do yourself a favor and don’t provoke the bandits if we get held up.”

“What?” she squawked, glancing this way and that. “Hell and damnation, this is just what I don’t need!”

Sure enough, she clutched protectively at her reticule again. Yep, she had something valuable with her, he predicted. If he could see her face, he knew it would be skewed up with alarm and anxiety.

Her hand shot out toward him. “Give me one of your six-shooters. I’m not going down without a fight.”

Quinn shook his head. “You shoot and they shoot back. Believe me, you would not like getting shot.”

“You speak from experience?”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah, it ain’t much fun. It would make you cross and cranky.”

She snorted at that.

“Okay, a lot more cross and cranky,” he amended wryly.

She poked her head out the window to study the towering stone precipices, and then she twisted around on the seat so that her shoulder and face were turned away from him.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, bemused.

Her head swiveled around, the thick veil swinging across the collar of her gown. “I’m unloading, of course.”

He saw her tuck something down the front of her gown. “If you don’t think bandits won’t frisk you because of your gender and age, think again. You might as well accept the fact that no one gets by untouched.”

“And you’re an expert, are you? Don’t tell me you supplement your lack of funds at the card table by holding up stages and banks.”

“No, but—”

Quinn’s voice dried up when he heard the first gunshot echoing off the rock walls, and then felt the coach lurch into a swifter speed.

“Oh, my God,” Agatha wailed as she grabbed hold of the window frame to prevent being launched into his lap. “This is going to spoil everything!”

He noticed the absence of the nasal tone in her voice again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He poked his head out the window to watch six masked riders descend from an elevated trail. Sure as shootin’, their faces were concealed by the same patterned red bandanas.

“It’s about damn time,” he said to himself. “Finally, some results.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing—”

The coach caromed around a sharp bend in the road, flinging him sideways. Agatha screeched, a high-pitched sound that nearly burst his eardrums—and sent the frightened mutt up in howls. When the coach rocked wildly on its springs Agatha was flung on top of Quinn before he could upright himself. He barely had time to register the fact that she felt as soft as a feather pillow before she planted her hands on his chest and shoved herself away.

Quinn peered out the window to see two riders thundering beside the coach. A moment later, the stage skidded to a halt.

“Hands up!” one of the masked bandits roared at the driver. “And you there, throw down that shotgun.”

“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” Agatha chanted as she laid a shaky hand over her bosom.

While the driver and guard were being disarmed, Quinn unfastened his holsters and laid them on the seat.

“I never would have taken you for a coward.” Agatha’s voice was harsh with disappointment. “You aren’t even going to put up a fight, are you?”

The condemnation of her words rolled off him like rain off a canvas tent. “No, I’m not. Money comes and goes. I might have the nine lives of a cat, but I’ve used up about half of them already. I don’t intend to expend another one of them today. Since you probably don’t have too many to spare yourself, I suggest you act complacent for a change.”

“When my money goes it’s gone for good,” she grumbled.