The Texas Ranger's Daughter. Jenna Kernan
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found no sign. I thought that was where you was all heading.”
Hammer released him and scratched the stubble on his chin as he eyed Boon. “Changed our mind after you went missing. Those damned Rangers hung Wilson.”
Boon flicked his gaze at her. She stopped moving, frozen like a rabbit as her heart pounded in her throat. He held her gaze an instant longer then turned his attention back to their leader.
“Bender and his men.”
Laurie’s ears perked up at the mention of her father’s name.
“Hung Wilson from a mesquite tree on the Brazos. Now I’m looking to hurt him bad. Got the opportunity when Freet here robbed a mail stage. Lucky Cal reads so good. Found us a letter from this little missy here.” Hammer stroked her head and Laurie pulled away. Hammer laughed.
“Told us your train and when to meet you. Didn’t you, Laurie?”
So that’s how they found her. Laurie felt so stupid she could die. Probably would die. Why hadn’t she noticed her escort was no Ranger? She should have noticed. Her father certainly would have.
“She’s my revenge. Going to be sweet, too.” He raised his voice to a yell. “Ain’t she, boys?”
The men hollered and whistled while Laurie shivered as if she stood naked before them.
Hammer glanced to Laurie and she went hot and cold until her body seemed to vibrate like struck iron. Hammer patted Boon on the shoulder and led him a few steps away. “Spent some time at a new place outside of Wichita Falls rustling cattle, but too much law over that way so we came west again.” Hammer released his hold on Boon’s shoulder, that terrible, pleasant smile still fixed on his face. “You get your horse settled and come back. We’ll talk about you joining up again. You bring anything?”
Boon nodded, sticking his thumbs beneath his belt. “When do I get my gun back?”
George held Boon’s gaze. Boon didn’t look away as the others always did. Hammer didn’t like that kind of challenge, so the outlaw drew his gun and aimed his weapon at the young man’s middle.
Boon held his easy stance, giving no indication he was frightened. George laughed.
“I think I’ll keep your pistol for a while, Boon. You understand.”
Boon nodded. The man was either the coolest customer Laurie had ever seen or just plain crazy.
The young outlaw turned back to his escorts and motioned with his fingers. The guard who’d accompanied him into the camp made a face, glanced at their leader and then handed over a Winchester repeater. Laurie recognized it, for it was similar to the model her father had given her for her tenth birthday, back when they were best friends instead of strangers.
Boon offered the repeater, butt first, to Hammer.
“Took it off a cowpoke who tried to stop me taking one of their beeves.”
Hammer nodded, an absent smile returning to his face. He accepted the offering, spun and aimed at the men standing by the fire, shooting one round after another. The dust at their feet flew up as the men dove behind the ring of logs.
“Seems to fire a little low,” said Hammer conversationally to Boon.
“Every weapon takes getting used to,” he answered.
Hammer nodded, using the lever to expel the final empty round, and then relaxed his arm so that the weapon now hung at his side.
The outlaws dusted off their trousers and chaps as Hammer turned toward the dilapidated house. Laurie saw her opportunity, bolted to her feet and ran toward the horse Boon had vacated. She leaped and Boon caught her in midair, spinning her around as he captured her in his strong arms. He brought her back to the ground, keeping hold of her, pressing her back against his chest so she faced the others.
He held her as she struggled, his body hard and his grip unbreakable.
George Hammer stalked back to Laurie, opened his hand and slapped her across the face. The sting of the slap made her eyes water, but the damage could have been much worse had her captor not pulled her away from the direction of the blow the instant the outlaw struck.
Laurie blinked in shock, waiting for the second blow, but George Hammer seemed oblivious to what had just happened.
He narrowed his eyes on Boon and raised his voice. “Least one of my men ain’t too drunk or too stupid to make himself useful.” He whirled and kicked at the closest man, but he dodged, scrambling backward over the log.
“She gets away and I kill someone.” He stalked toward the house.
Laurie turned her head to look back at her captor. His face was cold and grim, his jaw muscles bulged.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Shut up,” he growled then grabbed her elbow and dragged her back to the logs, pressing her into place none too gently. “Don’t move.”
He left her to return to his horse and released the girth before swinging the saddle free and setting it on the rail beside the others. Then he rubbed the gelding down with a hank of dried grass, before setting him loose in the paddock.
One of the men sat too close to Laurie. She inched away. His breath stank of rotting teeth as he lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his dirty fingers. She tried to pull back, but he jerked the hank of hair. When she cried out he laughed.
Laurie glanced to Boon and noted his eyes shift, but he made no move to help her. So she faced the man herself.
“Are you trying to get shot? Hammer said no one is to touch me.”
He stopped laughing, narrowing his eyes on her. Laurie held her breath. Their leader had not exactly told his men not to touch her. She waited to see what he’d do.
He took another swallow of whiskey and then rose to his feet, making a show of adjusting himself before joining the others. The men now sat on one side of the fire and she on the other, predators facing their captured prey.
She had never felt more alone in her life. The fear choked her and she grew dizzy from the worry. She knew what would come next and the dread made her nauseous.
She sat still and watchful as the men passed the whiskey and got louder and meaner by the minute.
The outlaws ate, scraping their beans and bacon off tin plates with day-old biscuits. But no one fed her. Laurie’s stomach growled as she watched them, hoping for a chance to run again into the night.
At last George Hammer reemerged from the hovel of a house with Cal.
“So, who’s first, boys?”
Laurie swallowed back the bile rising in her stomach. The time had come. She glanced frantically about for somewhere to run.
But the men weren’t looking at her, they were eyeing each other, sizing up the competition.
She rose, but Cal shoved her to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Laurie sank in the dust, leaning back against the log, and watched the men. Some hung back, remaining in their places. Others stood casually, as if just preparing to take a stroll.
Boon stepped into the firelight, the first to stake a claim.
“Me,” he said, lowering his chin in a challenge.
The others glanced from one to the next, but no one stepped forward. Laurie began to tremble, her eyes darting from one to another, searching desperately for escape and finding none.
Larson finally moved from the group. He was older, bigger and outweighed the younger man by fifty pounds. But he was a coward inside; Laurie knew it from the exchange she’d seen with Hammer. Cowards didn’t fight unless they were certain they could win. Cowards made the best bullies and suddenly she could not draw breath. What if it were Larson? She’d rather die, but Hammer had not given her that option.