Give Me A Texas Ranger (30 page)

“Laney?”

Laney shifted in her work chair and laid down the glove she’d been working on. She stretched tired shoulders and yawned, exhausted from more than eight hours of working without a break. But she was almost done. All the padding had been stitched in. Seven lucky shamrocks on the right, six on the left. Just one more to go.

Uncertain that someone had actually called her name, she stood and moved into the front room of the shop. It had to be at least two-thirty in the morning. Maybe she’d only imagined the voice on the wind. Besides, who could possibly be paying a call at this time of morning. And for that matter, why?

“Laney, open up.” The whisper came again, this time more adamant. Caution flared within and warned her to be careful about opening her door. No telling how many others now knew she was making Mr. Maher’s gloves. She edged back the curtain to the front window and looked out.

Dannell. Standing there in his business clothes and cane. She expected him to be less sturdy on his feet, and in his usual alcoholic stupor by now. That alone should have been enough to make her go back to work and leave him standing there. But the light from the gas streetlamps revealed a strangely sober, panic-stricken face. She didn’t trust him paying such an untimely call, but the fear that something might be wrong with Gideon overruled caution.

Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the key to the shop from her apron pocket and struggled to unlock the door. “Is it Gideon?” she asked, dreading to hear his reply, yet knowing that in past troubles Gideon had always counted on her to come to his aid, not his uncle.

Dannell pushed his way inside, not giving her time to stand aside. She stumbled backward, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist to keep her from falling.

“You’ve got to come with me,” he demanded. “There’s trouble.”

Laney didn’t ask any questions and didn’t take time to lock the door. She allowed him to pull her outside to the waiting hansom, knowing he had no knack for manners when he could not handle a situation well. At least he had the presence of mind to come get her so she could handle whatever was happening.

A million thoughts raced through her mind as she took a seat beside him. Was Gideon hurt? Was he ill? If so, how could they get to him in time? She finally found her voice. “Is it Gideon? Is he all right?”

“I told him we’d call him back.”

Dannell patted her hand to offer comfort, but she quickly jerked it away. They both might share affection for Marc’s son, but she didn’t trust Dannell enough to accept his show of reassurance.

“Then he’s not…He’s alive and talking?” The worst of her fears were eased now. A broken arm, a bruised ego, trouble with a headmaster at school, or anything else Gideon suffered she knew she could endure, but the possibility of losing him like she had lost Marc was almost unthinkable.

“Alive? Of course, my dear.” Dannell tapped the roof of the hansom with his cane. “To the Vendome Hotel, driver.”

When he saw the look of surprise cross Laney’s face, Dannell explained, “I would have told you immediately if the boy had been killed. He’s just in a little trouble and I’m afraid it’s something I have no time to deal with. You and your work with Maher have made a lot of trouble for me that you can’t even imagine, Killaney. I told Gideon that I would get you and the two of you could work his trouble out over the phone.”

Anger welled inside Laney, making her wonder whether this phone conversation was meant to help Gideon or get her to Dannell’s hotel room. “And the phone I’m to use is in your room, I suppose?” she asked suspiciously.

“Where else at this time of morning, my dear?” Dannell sounded as if she had lost her only sense. “We wouldn’t want to make family improprieties public knowledge, would we?”

He’d never thought twice about any of his own improprieties. Whatever a twelve-year-old boy might have done could hardly be considered reputation killing. “I’ll make the call to Gideon in the lobby,” she insisted, knowing full well if Dannell managed to get her alone in his room, he would try to take advantage of her. “I know for a fact there’s a phone by the dining hall. If anyone cares to listen in, I’ll give them an earful when I’m finished talking with Gideon.”

She couldn’t hide her disgust, now that she knew Gideon was not in any real danger. “I’ve got customers who are going to be plenty upset if I’m not back in time to complete their orders this morning.”

Dannell smiled. “You mean Pete Maher’s gloves, don’t you? Not done with them—eh? Excellent. That’s even better than I hoped.”

“What do those gloves have to do with you?” she asked, deciding he must have learned about them from Mrs. Darrow.

Laney realized that she had left the door to the shop unlocked. Anyone could steal the gloves and no one would be the wiser for it. Did Dannell know about the bonus as well? Did he know that without it, she had no chance of getting custody of Gideon?

“Let’s just say I used some of my friends’ money to place a few bets. Bets that need Fitzsimmons to win the bout.”

“You’ve embezzled your customers’ money, haven’t you?” Her disgust deepened. He was playing several games. Gideon was just one of them.

“They’ll never know. I’ll win it back. Having you with me assures that. Maher won’t box without those gloves, and we both know it.” Dannell raised his cane and tapped again. “To the depot. I’ve changed my mind.”

Laney reached for the door to the hansom, but the cane flashed out and struck her hand sharply. She jerked it back, facing the man whom she’d grown to disapprove of immensely over the years. “Where are you taking me?”

Dannell chuckled softly and kept his cane ready to strike. “That depends entirely on you, Killaney. We can do this my way or your way. I think you might prefer it my way, if you ever want to see the boy again. And if you really must know, there are a couple of boxcars that I’ve helped to keep mighty secret. No one will find you there.”

She’d been duped. No, she’d allowed herself to be fooled. Tired from trying to get the boxing gloves done, she hadn’t listened to her good sense about not opening the door to Dannell. She hadn’t even waited to see if his panic-stricken face was brought about by concern for Gideon. She just assumed it was. She had not been careful and it might now cost her a price she prayed she wouldn’t have to pay. “This isn’t about Gideon or the money, is it?”

Dannell laughed bitterly. “I always said you were too smart for your good looks, girl. Maybe it’s all about why you refused to marry me and take
me
to your bed instead of my brother.”

“I told you why years ago, but you wouldn’t listen. I’ll have no man who can’t be a true father to Gideon. You made it clear you don’t really want him as your own. You just want whatever having him as your ward provides for you. If that wasn’t reason enough, you’ve made it very clear I would only be one of many women in your life. No woman wants a man who is unwilling to love a child or commit himself to her alone.”

“And you think that Ranger of yours will give up his lifestyle for living your dull, simple life? You think he wants to raise a boy who’s not his?”

“Thomas has nothing to do with this. With me or Gideon.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Killaney. The man loves you. I see it and you know it. And I’m going to see that he never has you. That he never has that boy’s trust fund. He’ll never want you after I’m through with you.”

“You leave him out of this,” she demanded, taking her elbow and jabbing him in the side. “You keep Gideon’s trust fund, for all I care. It’s never been an issue for me. I’ll never touch a penny of it for myself anyway. It’s Marc’s gift to his son, not to me or to you.” She wanted to spit in his face. “And I’ll die before I make this easy for you.”

He thwacked her legs with the cane. Pain shot through her thighs and she began to fight him with everything she had, gouging and scratching with her fingernails, pulling what little hair he had left, biting where her teeth met flesh. The carriage rocked back and forth as he retaliated, landing a fist to her face and kicking her with his boots.

Laney did the only thing she could think of, using his own weapon against him. She grabbed the cane and shoved it backward, hitting him below his belt. A great puff of air escaped his throat, ending in a startled gasp of pain. For a single moment, Dannell let go of her and that was all she needed. She threw herself against the door, jerking the handle with both hands and throwing her body out of the speeding hansom.

“Driver, stop!” came Dannell’s angry bellow.

Laney tumbled for several feet across the roadway, shoulder over hip, ending in a thud against a wooden sidewalk. “Help!” she screamed, but it came out only as a squeak between swollen lips that tasted of blood. Struggling to her feet, she realized both Dannell and the driver were running toward her. The driver was in on the scheme!

“Help, somebody!” she screamed again, finding her footing and breaking into a crippled run. Her head was spinning, her body ached. She had no idea where she was. She only knew that she hurt in a dozen places.

Steady footsteps chased after her.

Into the night she ran, hoping for some sign of human kindness that would stop these men from catching her, or worse. Where was one of those mighty Rangers who always seemed to be everywhere except when she needed them?

A light shone just ahead like a beacon of safety, if she could just reach it. Only a few steps more. Three houses away. Two. “Help!” she yelled, mustering every ounce of breath left within her. She thought she saw a shadow move in the lit window.
Open the door,
she willed the shadow to hear her.
Open it now!
“Help me, someone, please!”

Something hard, cold, and excruciatingly painful crashed into her head, sending her downward, into a darkness deeper than the night that cloaked her attackers.

Seven o’clock couldn’t come too soon for Thomas. He was so eager to have a few minutes with Laney that he almost missed seeing Pete Maher leave his hotel room to head to the appointment. Fortunately, the boxer had had an equally short night, so he dispensed with the five-mile run he normally took to get his training in for the morning and just ran the distance from the hotel to the saddle shop. Thomas supposed he was just as eager to see how the gloves had turned out.

As Thomas ran, keeping pace behind the boxer, he let his thoughts stray to those that had kept him awake for the few hours he should have been sleeping. General Mabry’s orders last night meant that he wouldn’t be able to see Laney again until this business with the fight was over. Sure, he would have to settle up for the saddle, but that wouldn’t take but a few minutes. And what if the trail of the fight took him away from El Paso before she finished the saddle? As far as he could see, she hadn’t spent all that much time on the saddle, focusing more on Pete Maher’s gloves.

But it wasn’t the thought of an incomplete saddle that was bothering Thomas. Instead, it was the reality that he would not be spending time with Laney that made him want to curse all those times he’d wished to be done with these frustrating delays. He’d had to ask himself why she had come to mean so much to him in such a short amount of time. He’d always found it easy to be alone, to let duty keep him occupied and interested. But now that the general had assigned him other duties, Thomas knew he would never feel the same contentment he found in fulfilling any duty that was assigned to him. Without a doubt, Laney had somehow become the adventure he wanted more than any other.

By the time they reached the saddle shop, Thomas was good and winded. He considered himself a fit man, full of health and enough stamina to do a good day of whatever was required of a Ranger. But keeping up with an athlete of Pete Maher’s caliber was no easy doings.

“You still with me, Ranger?” Maher asked, stopping in front of the saddle shop. “Not too fast for you, am I, lad?”

Thomas wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I can go the distance, Pete. Count on that, friend.”

Maher laughed and opened the door, letting the overhead bell announce their arrival. “I have no doubt that you have, Ranger, long before you ever started tracking me.”

Following the boxer inside, Thomas was surprised to see no lamp lit in the front area. A glance at the workroom just to the right of the front counter revealed that one shone behind the curtain that separated the two spaces. He waited a moment, expecting Laney to appear from her workstation. No one came.

“Laney?” he called. “It’s Thomas Longbow. Mr. Maher’s here for his gloves and I’m with him.”

Still no answer.

Something didn’t feel right. The two men exchanged glances.

“She knew I was coming,” the boxer insisted.

“She should be here. Her bicycle is outside at the post.” Thomas stepped around the counter and into the work area, noticing the gloves lying on the table, the lamp on. He moved through the kitchen and small area she used for a bedroom and bath. The bed had not been slept in. “She’s not here anywhere. I don’t like this.”

Maher picked up the gloves and examined them closely. “Wherever she is, she left them unfinished.”

“You’re sure of that?” Thomas realized that she’d left the writing ledger open on the table next to the gloves. She would never have left that out for anyone to see. She’d protected it from his eyes too many times. He stepped over to examine the ledger, then ultimately chose not to. She’d show him when she meant for him to see it. Something was wrong and his instinct for trouble kicked into high gallop.

“I’m sure. The design is incomplete.” Maher pointed to the wrist of one glove. “This one’s only got six.”

“She must have been interrupted before she was finished.” Thomas started calculating what or who might have urged her away from something that meant so much to her to complete. Only one foul name came to mind—Dannell O’Grady.

“Mr. Maher, I need you to tell me everything you and Mrs. O’Grady have discussed about your gloves. Leave nothing out,” Thomas insisted. “It might mean the difference in her life or death. Whatever secret it is she’s kept for you, I give you my word as a man and a Ranger that I won’t reveal the details to anyone else.”

Pete Maher showed Thomas the gloves and told him about the symbols and the bonus he said he’d pay her. “That’s all it is, lad. Just some good-luck charms that I’ve been superstitious about for my whole career. Seven on each, I win. Fourteen’s my lucky number. You can understand that, can’t you, man?”

No, he couldn’t. And he wished he hadn’t made such a big fuss over disbelieving that Laney had no role in staging the upcoming fight. All because of a man’s superstitious nonsense. And all because she needed money to get her stepson back. Well, not only did he need to possibly save her life—now he needed to apologize to her too. For not believing in her. For mistrusting her.

“I need you to do something for me, Mr. Maher.” Thomas handed the gloves back to Maher. “Take these and don’t let anyone talk you out of them for any reason. A lot of people were in the gallery when we talked about her making your gloves. Someone may have kidnapped her so you’d pay some kind of ransom money or something so she could finish them for you. I haven’t figured out yet why they didn’t just take the gloves, but maybe they thought she could just make another pair.”

“Take away the fighter, there’s no fight,” the boxer commented.

That was it. Take away the glove maker and there would be no gloves. “If everyone believes you’ve already got the gloves, then they’ll have no reason to hold her. Make a big show of them, will you? All over town. To every reporter within eyesight.”

“Where are you going?” Maher asked as Thomas headed for the front door.

Thomas thought about how much explaining there would have to be to General Mabry and decided the man would just have to do the listening this time instead of the talking. “I’m going to disobey some orders.”