The Texas Ranger's Secret. Dewanna Pace
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You’re wetter than I am. You didn’t get that much on me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to soak you.” Feather Hat looked genuinely apologetic.
“Won’t be the first time I got water thrown in my face. Besides, I was still wet from the rain.”
“I’ll make it up to you, sir.” She wrapped the fresh blanket around her. “Just as I plan to replace the wood for Mr. Bear.”
“Just Bear.” Gage gathered the pails and returned all but one to the stalls. The horses were calming down now that the fire was out and the haze of smoke moved higher into the rafters. “Bear and his wife, Pigeon, prefer you call them by their first names. The Funderburgs probably won’t let you repay them for the damage or they’ll make it easy for you to repair it. They’re good people.”
“Good people deserve respect, too.” Her gaze swept to the charred wall. “I’ll make it up to them. I’ll figure out some way.”
He didn’t know her from seed to high cotton, but the determination in her eyes impressed him. She meant business. Bear was about to get himself a new livery wall. Maybe he could lend a hand in helping her fix it.
She seemed to be waiting for him to speak or do something and Gage wasn’t sure what. He’d been so focused on determining her odd eye color, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if this really was her true shade. Not quite honey colored, but like brand-new buckskin. Palomino pretty. Something he was glad to have a chance to see before he no longer could.
Gage decided to clean up the mess for Bear and maybe that would give him and the lady some time to get to know each other a bit before she had to go. When he took a pitchfork and raked some of the ashes into the last pail he hadn’t returned, she tried to help by holding the pail steady and managed only to streak her cheeks and hands with soot.
She was about the most interesting woman he’d seen in a long time. Crazy hat and tangled hair, eyes the color of his favorite kind of horse and a smell that could make a man want to stand upwind of her. This woman made some kind of first impression.
He guessed he was like other men, favoring a pretty filly who kept up with her appearance and made him proud to walk beside her, but he didn’t care for fussy women who took preening too far and ate up a man’s time with vanity.
As intrigued as he was by her, he needed to make sure he remembered his primary goal—to learn if she was strong willed on the inside or easily coerced.
Feather Hat had been watching him expectantly, and finally she unwrapped the blanket and spread it over a squared-off bale of straw, then sat. After clearing her throat, she asked, “And you are?”
So that was what she’d been waiting on. His name. Not one to apologize for anything, Gage merely said, “Newcomb.”
She waited longer, then finally asked, “First or last name?”
“Last.”
“You Texans don’t talk much, do you?” She eyed him from head to toe.
Check that question off his list about her. She hailed from another state. “Not much except when there’s something big to say. You from back east?”
“Occasionally.” She shrugged her shoulders.
That got his attention. What was that supposed to mean? She either was or wasn’t. “You care to be more specific?”
“I grew up in Florida, but I tend to move around a lot. I’ve lived north, east, visited the Deep South, Georgia, and now here I am in the West, though I haven’t gotten any farther than Texas yet. Have you been here long?”
He wouldn’t tell her much, just enough to make her feel more comfortable in revealing details about herself. “Been in town for about six weeks now. It’s got a lot to offer if you’re looking for a place to settle. You plan on sticking around or will you be moving on soon since it’s clear you like to wander?”
“I’m here for my sister’s wedding. She’s getting married tomorrow.”
“Oh, so you’re the one.” That explained a lot and helped set aside some of his suspicion about any connection she might have to Hodge. Still, she was the perfect type for his foe to enlist. Better keep watch over her while she stayed. Wouldn’t want her making the wrong kind of friend and not being able to leave when and if she wanted to.
She stood, her fists knotting at her hips. “Does everyone in this town know I’m late?”
“Most everyone, near as I can tell. You’re the source of a good many wagers over at the Twisted Spur anytime the stage is due in. They’ll be mighty disappointed to see you’ve finally arrived. You’ve made some of the fellas a pretty penny this spring.”
“The Twisted Spur?”
“The saloon.”
“Just wonderful.” Her fists unknotted and her palms flung upward. “I’m already the subject of gossip and I haven’t even been here a few hours. I’ll never make friends with anybody in the ladies’ society, that’s for sure.”
Insecurity echoed behind her anger. She wanted people to think kindly of her. From the way she talked, Gage slightly altered his first estimation of her. This woman wasn’t the sort that would easily take up with Hodge. She probably wouldn’t even visit anywhere the thief normally caroused. Still, Hodge wouldn’t let that stop him if he took notice of her and decided to make her a target or an accomplice. Stanton Hodge didn’t care what others thought of him or whom he hurt.
Protective instincts stirred in Gage and he added one more goal to his last manhunt. If she proved as innocent as she appeared, he would make sure the man he tracked did not lure her into his conniving ways.
“Speaking of friends, when will your sisters come after you?” Gage had expected she would have been picked up by now.
Her palms fell back to her side. “Bear said around three o’clock. That should be anytime now, don’t you think? I can go check outside. I noticed a clock on the water tower behind the livery.”
She headed to the door but halted when Gage’s words stopped her. “No need. They’ll probably show up after the rain stops. Might as well keep dry as you can. I’ll go ahead and light the lantern. You warm enough or you need the stove heated?”
“I’ve had enough fire for one day myself, but if you’re cold, suit yourself. You’ll probably do a better job of getting it going than I did.”
She sounded defeated. Something buried long ago that he hadn’t allowed himself to dig up since he was eleven years old twisted inside him. The last thing his father had ever teased him about was having gangly legs and broomstick arms, being a late bloomer.
That day, he’d been expected to watch for signs of the lobo attacking their herd. Gage had tired from his duty and started daydreaming, writing poetry in his thoughts, losing track of time. Next thing he knew, his father screamed at him to shoot to kill. Two cows were down, his father’s leg caught and bleeding profusely in one of the traps set for the wolf. Champion tumbled in a vicious battle with the lobo, the dog’s and the wolf’s snarls jerking Gage to his feet.
All of a sudden, a high-pitched yelp tore from Champion’s throat and he fell backward. The lobo had taken the last breath from the dog’s body.
Gage’s broomstick arms could hardly lift that big old rifle back then, but he vowed to stop the wolf from turning on his father. He kept that vow and his gangly legs and arms managed to get his father home and his dog buried. Two weeks later, he’d buried his father beside his dog. From that day since, he’d never allowed another soul to see any sign of weakness within him.
He couldn’t allow Feather Hat to feel defeated. There was always strength to be learned just from trying. From believing you could do something.
“You did all right.” Not being around much of anyone but criminals, Gage didn’t give compliments easily.