Wild Texas Rose (3 page)

He met her eyes and as always Rose guessed that he knew of the fears she tried so hard to hide. He might have been a pest, but she remembered once when they were in the second grade, she’d refused to go into the crowded schoolhouse for a program. When she’d claimed she was sick, Duncan had sat in the wagon with her. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just kept her company. They’d wrapped up in a quilt until everyone came back.

Rose didn’t argue with him now. He was probably right about Tori. The whole family met Victoria Chamberlain one summer when she visited the ranch while Rose and Emily were in their second year of finishing school. Down to the dog, they all hated Victoria. She was spoiled, whiny, and demanding. She wanted her breakfast specially made twenty minutes after she awoke. She never picked up anything or offered to help. At fifteen, she thought she was a queen, but when Victoria told Duncan to wipe the sweat off his horse because she didn’t want to look at it, Duncan swore he’d never speak to her again.

“I don’t need any help.” Rose sat down on the other side of the bed and tugged off her boots. “I’m sure Tori was just overreacting when she sent the telegram begging me to come early. But if you really want to help, you could always go to the wedding with me. She said I could have a guest.”

“No way, Rose, and don’t bother trying to talk me into it.” He pulled off his boots. “I may be tired, but I’ll be dead before I ever agree to be in the same room with that woman. That time you made me dance with her, I politely bowed and asked if I might have the honor again sometime. Hell, I was just being nice. She gave me her usual ‘drop dead’ look and said, ‘Not in this lifetime,’ like I’d asked for her hand.”

Giggling, Rose whispered, “Don’t tell me someone finally turned down the handsome Ranger McMurray. I thought you always got the girl. Some say you’ve broken the hearts of half the unmarried women in Austin.”

He thought about it a moment and whispered back, “I haven’t had time to break any hearts in Austin or anywhere else. As far as her turning me down, I might have been hurt if I’d cared one way or the other. I swear, I can’t believe she found one man to marry, even a braggart like August Myers.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Rose leaned against the pillows.

“Nothing, according to Victoria’s father. They’re made from the same muddy cloth, if you ask me. Southerners who don’t think the war is over and plan to bore everyone else alive in the South with their theories about how it will rise again any minute.”

Rose closed her eyes, for once too tired to pester him. “Tell me about the outlaws you caught this time, Duncan.”

He settled his shoulder against hers. “Jeb and Owen Tanner are half Comanche and half German, or so the story goes. Neither race will claim them. Some say they have no idea who their old man was, only that he tanned hides during the days of the buffalo hunts. Hauling them from Waco to Dallas was like trying to march rabid squirrels through quicksand.”

“What did they do wrong?”

“Everything. Train robbing is their favorite target, but they’ll do anything to get money. I swear I should have just shot them when I first saw them. They were arguing over a pair of boots they’d just pulled off a gunfighter before the doc had time to pronounce him dead. I would have probably never caught them if they hadn’t been busy trying to kill each other and all their gang were making bets on which one would survive.”

Duncan kept talking, reliving every dumb thing the Tanner brothers had said. Finally, he swore and added, “I was with a band of rangers who almost caught the gang once. We lost two good men and the Tanners lost a brother in the fight. Soon after that the gang started pulling jobs that took some brains to plan. The two left alive are too dumb to stop a drunk duck, much less a train, so they’re getting advice from somewhere.” Duncan absently played with one curl of her hair. “I asked Jeb if he could read and he answered, ‘What for?’”

Just before Rose dozed off, she heard him say that he knew a driver who’d take her anywhere she needed to go while she was in Fort Worth. He promised to check on her every time he got the chance.

“Promise me,” Duncan said as he bumped her shoulder lightly. “Promise me you won’t leave the hotel without the driver. I don’t trust any of the hack drivers in this town. The guy I picked has never let a ranger down. He’ll watch over you.”

“I promise,” she said as she relaxed into sleep.

Chapter 2

D
uncan listened as Rose’s breathing slowed. He
smiled. She might be all grown up, but she hadn’t changed. She could fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. They used to laugh that it was a waste of time to read her a bedtime story; she was gone by the title page.

He laid his big hand over her small one, remembering a time when they’d been the same size. They’d hated each other since the day they met at five years old, but whenever he was at Whispering Mountain he always knew where she was. She was bossy even then and declared him completely wild, but he kept up with her.

He’d told himself it was in self-defense so he wouldn’t run into her too often, but in truth, he liked knowing where she was and what she was doing. Rose was as much a mystery to him as he was to her. They might not be blood kin, but they were bound together by something and most of the time he wasn’t sure if it was love or hate. If he’d been more practical, or she’d had one ounce of recklessness in her blood, maybe, just maybe, they might have been a match, but at twenty-five they were both too set to change. He’d never settle down and she’d never take a risk. But that fact didn’t keep him from caring.

With the mess going on in Dallas, Duncan knew he couldn’t watch over her for a few days, but he’d made sure she’d have a driver who could protect her. If he told her what danger she was in, she’d worry herself sick. Two nights ago a woman walking only a few blocks away had been killed. He didn’t mention it to Rose. He figured this little wedding drama was about the most she could handle and it would keep her busy until he got back. The Tanners would also be a threat until they were locked away for good.

As he was a Texas Ranger, it wasn’t that unusual for an outlaw to promise to kill him, but Jeb and Owen Tanner had both whispered that they’d murder every McMurray in the state. Reason told Duncan that all his family was safe . . . all except Rose. She’d come alone to Fort Worth with the Tanners and their gang only thirty miles away.

He’d guard the two during their trial, and then once they were locked away for good, he’d ride back here. Who knows, he might even let Rose talk him into going to the wedding before he put her back on the train heading back to Whispering Mountain.

Duncan smiled and closed his eyes letting a calmness blanket his tired mind. A stillness always settled inside him when he knew she was all right. They might fight more than talk, but he’d do whatever he had to do to protect her.

From the day he’d seen Travis McMurray, the man who became his father, Duncan knew deep down that he was one of them. He didn’t remember anything about his first family, the raid that must have killed his folks or being tied up in a camp as if he were no more than a dog or pig they planned to sell. He only remembered being cold and alone for what seemed like forever.

Then he’d stepped onto the McMurray ranch and known he was home.

As he fell asleep, he remembered the report he’d seen about the man Rose’s friend would marry in one week. If the documents were true, Rose might need one of the pistols she carried. The husband-to-be wasn’t an outlaw the rangers needed to worry about, but Duncan wouldn’t be surprised if every time he grew he didn’t leave a snakeskin behind. Proper, spoiled Princess Victoria might never see his true colors, but Rose would. She’d always been good at sizing up people.

He rolled to his side and kissed her hand lightly. The family all thought she hated leaving the ranch because she had no sense of direction, but Duncan knew it was more than that. He’d ridden all night just to let her know that he was near, even if she’d never admit she was afraid. Rose was a mouse in a state packed with lions.

Now that he knew she was safe, he’d go do his duty and then get back as fast as he could. As much as she hated the thought, she might need him, if for nothing else but to take out the trash that was about to marry her friend.

He rolled from the bed and moved silently across the room. Her carpetbag sat open on the table. Without a sound, he tugged the letter from his vest pocket and smiled. It was addressed to him, but with all his bravery he couldn’t force himself to open it. He slid it into the secret fold in the lining of the bag. If he ever mustered up the courage to see what the state registrar’s office discovered about his family, he’d want Rose with him for the news so he might as well leave the letter with her.

As he slipped from the room, he thought about why he’d want her to know if the state records showed his real name and age. Maybe because she’d been his best friend when he was growing up or maybe because he knew it wouldn’t matter to her what kind of people he’d come from, he’d always be her family.

Aggravating or not.

Chapter 3

Friday

Second Avenue

A
be Henderson stepped out in the alley and
looked over his shoulder at the back of the Grand. Only ten feet separated him from the fancy hotel, but there might as well be a hundred miles in between. Second Avenue had been the first main road, but when the traffic moved one block over, Second slowed to a small-town feel of merchants and shopkeepers. The stockyards were nearby along with old homes, businesses, and boardinghouses, but all the hotels and gaming houses sprung up on Main Street, where the road was wide and traffic flowed in a steady stream from dawn till dusk.

Abe Henderson liked the slower pace of Second. No hurry, no panic. Nothing ever changed.

He always opened his mercantile early on Fridays, and he watched for Killian O’Toole to show up on the bench outside his store. He and Killian had been friends most of their lives and he knew if the Irishman was in town, he’d be stopping by. They’d both been shy boys in school who traded books, and they’d both joined the Confederacy in 1863 when they turned seventeen so they wouldn’t miss the war.

Abe came back wounded before the year was out. Killian had met up with his older brother at Vicksburg and stayed to the end, then walked home alone and half-starved but without a wound. Folks talked, saying they’d heard tell of Killian and his brother, Shawn, facing a huge battle a few months after they got together. The Rebs were outnumbered when the O’Toole boys manned a cannon. Folks said Shawn held the line for two hours before he fell, his face so bloody not even his family could have claimed the body. The gossips said that Killian ran when commanded to take his place and spent the rest of the war driving a hospital wagon without a weapon at his side.

No one had proof. The story of O’Toole was just hearsay, but behind his back, some of the veterans called Killian O’Toole a coward. Others said he was simply mad, driven there by a war he was too young to understand. Folks claimed after twelve years he still talked to his brother as if Shawn O’Toole walked by his side, and Abe Henderson knew enough not to argue.

Abe didn’t care about gossip. Killian O’Toole was his friend and that was all that mattered. The war had been over for a long time and neither of them ever mentioned it. Both were terribly scarred, Abe with a limp and Killian with rumors that never ended.

When Abe saw him sit down on the bench outside his store, he poured two cups of coffee and moved slowly to the door. At five past seven they’d see few people on the street. They could talk. If one of Abe’s regulars did come in, he could get what he needed and leave the money on the counter. For both men, this hour once a week was all they had in the way of true companionship.

“Morning.” Abe smiled at the long-legged man in black. “I swear you look more like an undertaker than a circuit judge.”

“Jobs are about the same,” Killian answered, without meeting Abe’s gaze. “I’m guessing I put about as many men in the ground as most of them do. Difference is, no one yells at an undertaker for just doing his job.”

“Plus, don’t forget you get to go down to Austin once in a while,” Abe said, remembering how his friend always seemed happier and maybe a little more at peace when he took a few days off and made the trip. Maybe in getting away from his home and people who knew him, he somehow slipped away from his memories.

“I may not be going as much from now on. Things seem to have changed.”

The shop owner knew his friend was still hung over from the night before. Killian, if nothing else, was predictable. He worked hard all week riding from town to town, sometimes holding court all day, then sleeping in the saddle so he could make the next town by morning. Every Thursday or Friday night he’d circle through Fort Worth and collect his mail. Then he’d rent a room in a good hotel, take a bath, have a shave, and stay drunk for two days before heading out again.

“How’s Shawn?” Abe decided to change the subject. A ghost was all the family either of them had, so they always made polite conversation about him.

“He’s fine. Says I’m getting too old to live on the road.” Killian downed a swallow of hot coffee. “Thinks I should settle down and get married to some fat woman who’ll keep me warm at night.”

Both men laughed. They’d had the discussion before about marriage and decided no woman would want either one of them.

Killian lit a thin cigar and took a deep draw before adding, “This morning, I bumped into a pretty woman having trouble getting out of a carriage. Little bit of a thing with midnight hair and fiery eyes. I offered help, but she wouldn’t take it. Looked at me like I was a devil for even talking to her.”

“Were you sober?”

“More or less. I had to come in early this week. A newspaperman I got drunk with a few times when I was in Austin is getting married and I’ve agreed to be the best man. When I got the telegram asking me if I’d stand up with him, I was surprised he even remembered my name. All I can figure out is I must be the only person he knew in Fort Worth.”

He didn’t say more, but his frown left Abe wondering just how much of a friend the guy could be. Killian looked more like he planned to be a pallbearer than a best man.

Killian shrugged. “I got to wondering if I haven’t reached the age where I frighten women and children. Every time I do meet a woman she tells me I’d make a good friend. Maybe I’m getting too old to even make attempts at being social. Remember Old Mr. Daily who lived at the edge of town? He scared a year’s worth of growth out of me more than once.”

Abe nodded. “He chased us out of his pumpkin patch with a shotgun. I thought that was a little much.”

Killian nodded. “I used to think he was older than dirt. Last week, on the road, I got to thinking that he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five or forty when we were kids. Hell, I’ll be his age before I turn around.”

“Maybe you should buy a place and start planting pumpkins?” Abe fought not to smile.

The judge just swore and smoked. “You and my brother are ganging up on me. He keeps telling me to forget about women all together. He thinks I should hang a shingle up here and go to work behind a desk.” Killian laughed. “The last time he picked me up in the gutter, Shawn told me he felt like knocking some sense into me. Before I passed out, I thought of daring him to, but hell, I’d probably be beaten up by a ghost with my luck.”

In the quiet dawn both men watched the schoolteacher walk across the street. She minded her steps, avoiding mud until she reached the steps of the little schoolhouse. She moved like a willow, Abe thought, and never offered a smile to anyone but her students.

“How old is she?” Killian asked as if just making conversation.

“I don’t know. She looked almost too young to be a teacher when she came here eight years ago, but they said she’d already taught at a school up north for a year. I’m guessing now she’s twenty-seven or -eight.”

“Well on the way to being an old maid,” Killian said. “She ever had any suitors come calling?”

Abe shrugged. “I’ve never noticed any man dropping by. She walks past my place heading back to the boardinghouse every evening. I’ve never seen anyone with her.”

“Kind of a shame. She’s not exactly pretty, but she’s not homely either.”

“She’s far too thin for you.” Abe lowered his voice.

“I know. Plus she’s the proper type. Probably wouldn’t let my brother hang around. Some women start acting funny when I tell them he died a dozen years ago. They seem to be of the opinion that he shouldn’t still be waiting around before passing on to the hereafter. I’ve told him a hundred times that he should go, but he says he’s got to stay around and keep me company.”

Abe continued to watch the schoolhouse door even though the teacher had disappeared. “If you ever do find one who doesn’t mind Shawn, marry her no matter how thick or thin she is. She’d be one in a million, I’d guess.” He almost added that he’d do exactly that if he ever found a woman who didn’t mind his limp.

They were both silent as they watched the teacher open the windows. The winter day promised to be warm and Abe guessed she wanted to air the place out.

“She’s more your type, Abe.” Killian held the cup almost to his mouth when he spoke.

“Not likely, but I will say she’s a worker.” Abe shook his head. “It’s a week before school starts back and she’s already getting everything ready. For what they pay her she should only work a few hours a day, but she’s in that room from dawn to dusk.”

Killian tossed his cigar in the mud. “You ever talk to her?”

Abe shook his head. “Only when she orders supplies. You’d think in the eight years I’ve been watching her go back and forth to work I would have thought of something to say besides ‘How many do you want, Miss Norman’ or ‘I’ll have it in a week.’”

Killian refilled his half-empty cup of coffee with whiskey from a flask. “Maybe you should grab her and kiss her. If she likes you, she’ll kiss you back. If she doesn’t, she’ll slap you. Either way, you’ll know how she feels.”

“Where’d you get that advice?”

Killian winked. “Shawn told me. I haven’t had a chance to test it. Most of the women I meet are defendants.”

Abe ordered in a low voice, “Tell your dead brother to stay out of my love life.”

“You don’t have a love life,” Killian corrected.

“Neither do you, and bathing only when you hit town isn’t a good plan if you ever want one.”

Both men laughed, something either rarely did. They talked on about the weather and work, but both knew the importance of this hour they spent had little to do with what they said. It was the one time they both could almost believe their world was normal and they were just like everyone else.