Give Me A Texas Ranger (28 page)

Laney dreaded facing Dannell, knowing he would be waiting to attack her like a cougar cornering a field mouse. Oh, he would keep his hands to himself in front of Judge Townsend, but he would verbally criticize what he’d just seen. He never missed an opportunity to make her look bad, mistakenly believing it made him look better. Not that she needed any help putting her reputation in question this morning. She’d done that well enough herself.

That kiss. That wonderful, glorious kiss. Why couldn’t she get it and Thomas Longbow out of her mind? Why had she forgotten the time? Now she’d made a fool of herself in front of the judge and Dannell, of all people.

Her lips still tasted of Thomas. Warm, salty-sweet, masculine. A rush of heated thoughts threatened to redden her cheeks as Laney pretended to be in deep concentration when the two men entered the shop. She quickly excused herself to give her cheeks time to quit blushing. “I need to jot down some details concerning my last order before I forget them.”

“I dare say you made fast friends with that stranger.” Disdain filled Dannell’s tone. “I don’t recall seeing him with you before yesterday.”

“I make friends easier than some people,” she said, scribbling down the mental measurements she’d taken into account for Thomas’s saddle before she forgot them.
And we know who one of those “some people” are, don’t we, Dannell,
she thought, hoping he recalled the list of names on the last page of the papers she’d shown him. Did he really want to play word games?

Laney hoped this new explanation would sit well with the judge and make Dannell think twice about saying any more. “Besides, if you’ll remember, I needed to thank the man for rescuing me last night.”

She glared at her brother-in-law, silently daring him to give her reason to tell the judge what had happened at the Vendome dining room.

Dannell’s brow furrowed, his eyes taking on a hard glint. “I should think a handshake would have been sufficient.”

Judge Townsend rose from the seat he’d taken on the bench and moved over to the counter, doffing his hat and offering a gentlemanly smile. “I don’t know that I wouldn’t have asked the same, if I were a younger man.”

Laney smiled up at him. “I appreciate your understanding, Your Honor. And I’m sure Mrs. Townsend thinks you’re just the right age for her.”

They shared a laugh.

Laney had hoped she could count on the judge’s good sense. Of all the litigators she had talked to regarding her desire to win custody of Gideon, Judge Townsend had been the one who had given her most hope. She was about to put her dreams in his hands and she hoped she could trust him to see through Dannell’s manipulations.

“How can I be of help to you, my dear?” The judge took out his pocket watch and checked the time. “I agreed to stop by for a few minutes, but even that has been cut short, I’m afraid. Your brother-in-law informs me that I’m needed at the McGinty Club. It seems William Barclay Masterson is arriving from Denver and is to be the chosen referee for tonight’s fight.”

“Bat Masterson?” she asked, recognizing the name of the lawman who helped to settle Kansas.

“The same. I have the dubious honor of telling Mr. Masterson that his actions go against the peace and dignity of the great state of Texas, and that he will not be able to take that role upon himself. Tonight or any other night, for that matter.”

“I don’t know, Judge.” Dannell shook his head. “The great citizens of El Paso are ready to flex their muscles too. Those two fighters are idolized by every wide-eyed boy, gambler, and sports fan on both sides of the border. Even the ladies are putting their forty cents down for a ticket. Not to mention the governor’s own wife, Sally, isn’t opposed to the contest. She says her husband was elected to carry out the will of the people, and we people have the right to what we want. How are you going to stop the inevitable?”

“Don’t mistake me. I want the fight as well as any man. It’s big business for the stores.”

Dannell rocked back on his heels. “I know it’s been good money for my businesses on Utah Street.”

Your bawdy houses, you mean.
Laney shot him a look of disgust. Why wasn’t anyone up in arms about
that
kind of entertainment in town?

“The city has swollen to about twenty thousand people,” the judge continued. “That makes for filled-up rooms and lodging houses. But there’s more to this than making a simoleon. I’m hoping you all will have the good sense not to take on the Rangers. They’ve been ordered to shoot to kill first and arrest afterwards.”

Laney couldn’t hide her shock. “Surely not. There will be women and children among the spectators.”

“Ask any one of them yourself,” Dannell complained. “You seem to know one or two of them, it seems.”

She would ask the one she knew. She couldn’t imagine Thomas Longbow harming a child…but then, she didn’t really know him at all.

So at least Dannell knew that Thomas was a Ranger. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to cause her problems if he thought she and Thomas were something more than acquaintances. No—Laney shook her head—she wouldn’t use Thomas like that. She’d fight her own battles.

“Mr. Longbow is the only one I know personally, and it’s thanks to him that I can finally do this.” She reached into the cabinet below the counter and pulled out a strongbox. “The reason I asked you to stop by, Your Honor, is that I have those papers we discussed, and some money up front to begin the process.”

Judge Townsend scanned the paper, focusing on the last page. He shot a glance at Dannell then back to Laney. “I assume the two of you have discussed this together.”

“We tried,” Laney informed him, “but we didn’t have much success with the talk.”

Dannell cleared his throat as if something were caught in it, then said, “I thought we could discuss this further on the way to the McGinty Club. I believe my sister-in-law has taken liberties with some of the names on that list, and we should go talk to them together to see if there have been any…shall we say,
favors
offered for supporting her cause.”

“How dare you accuse me of such things.” Laney looked around for something to throw at him, but decided giving in to her rage would just prove her unable to handle this like an adult. “I believe if His Honor took a good look into your background, he’d discover whose favor you’ve been courting on Utah Street.”

“I hope your sister-in-law is not correct in her accusation.” Judge Townsend’s face took on a stern expression. “You know what I’ve told you in the past regarding that matter. We’re trying to put an end to the tenderloin district, and if I find out you’re in any way involved with all of that, I will invoke your brother’s will sooner. All she has to do is prove herself as a fit provider for her and the boy. These signatures suggest a very strong case not only against you, but for her right to custody.”

Tears raced from her heart to well in her eyes, but Laney willed them back. She wouldn’t let Dannell see her cry. No matter that these were tears of triumph. She hadn’t won yet. She still had to finish the gloves and saddle. “Thank you, Judge Townsend. I was hoping that’s what you’d say. I’ll have the rest of the money to you in a matter of days. I just have two more orders to fill before I have it all.”

If looks could burn, Dannell’s fiery glare would have set her aflame.

“Then I’ll take this with me, Mrs. O’Grady.” The judge put the papers and deposit money inside a pocket of his frock coat. “I’ll read over your petition more carefully this evening. Hopefully, I can get this Masterson situation under control and won’t have to be dealing with a fight on my hands tonight.”

“I can almost guarantee you won’t,” Laney said, knowing that Pete Maher would never agree to the battle until he had his lucky gloves. She needed the rest of the evening to finish them, maybe part of tomorrow morning.

“Sounds like you know something,” the judge teased. “If you do, keep it to yourself. The less I know, the less likely I’ll have you arrested.”

“She doesn’t know any more than anyone else,” Dannell muttered, whining like a boy who’d been bested. “I’ll bet she doesn’t even know they’ve got a boxcar, filled with a circus tent and lumber, located where it can be attached to any rail line leading out of here. It’s going to be used to build the arena.” He raised his eyes to Laney and smiled smugly. “I’ll bet even your Ranger doesn’t know that Fitz has ordered it to be moved tonight.”

“Tonight?” Laney asked. “Are you sure Mr. Fitzsimmons said tonight?”

“I heard him and Dan Stuart himself talking about it at Pete Young’s pool hall.” Haughtiness filled his features as he relayed information the judge apparently had not been aware of. “Fitz said that his wife and new baby would have to go back to the training quarters in Juarez tonight because he would be taking care of some business down at the rail yard. They talked a great deal about the car with the tent and the lumber being moved. They just didn’t say where.”

If moving the railcar meant the fight would happen tonight, she had to convince Mr. Maher to stop it. The gloves weren’t ready. If he was forced to fight with another pair, she wouldn’t get the bonus. She wouldn’t have enough money to finish paying the custody-trial expenses.

She had to find where the boxer had gone for the day. “You wouldn’t have any idea where I can find Pete Maher at the moment, would you?”

Judge Townsend nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do. He’s meeting some reporters at Mrs. Darrow’s shooting gallery. You’ll find him there.” He winked at her. “Despite what your relative thinks, I do keep track of the players in the game. I just don’t know how long he’ll be there.”

Just so he’s there long enough for me to catch him in time,
Laney prayed, glad when the pair said they had to be on their way.

After lunch, Thomas was ready for Maher to head back to Las Cruces, but it looked as if the boxer had plans to spend all day in El Paso. For someone nursing sore eyes, Maher was getting around just fine. Thomas had wanted to go back to the shop and see how Laney had fared with her appointment with the judge, and find out why Dannell had tagged along, but he’d been instructed to keep a particular watch on Maher today.

Something was definitely on the stir. General Mabry had called a handful of Rangers to the rail yards to keep an eye on a boxcar that held the circus tent and lumber that was to be used to build the boxing arena. Word among the reporters tailing Maher was that the car could take track the moment any decision was made to move the fight somewhere outside of El Paso. With five trunk lines feeding the border town, the battle could be sent in any direction. Posting guards around the clock seemed the wisest and most logical move to make.

Thomas’s assignment now seemed the lesser of those being dealt to others of his corps, and normally he would have minded being left out of the hub of action, but playing nursemaid to a railcar held no appeal at the moment. At least following Maher provided a bit of unusual entertainment and kept boredom at bay.

The Irish boxer seemed intent upon focusing his mending eyes and trying his very famous hands at hitting one of the targets in the two-million-dollar automatic shooting gallery, the only one of its kind in the entire world. Thomas stretched out his long legs in the booth and watched as a crowd of men placed bets as to how many targets the boxer would hit without missing. Considering his limited vision, the bets abounded. Thomas thought of it as a game for starched-collar men. Trying to make a musical maid beat a kettle drum, plug a trumpeter so he’d blow a bugle call, or catch an Italian spaghetti maker in the breadbasket seemed a lazy man’s attempt at earning bragging rights.

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.