The Ranger's Woman. Carol Finch
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was only trying to help,” he said defensively as he watched her fluff the dust off her gown and sink a little deeper into her corner of the coach.
“I’ve taken care of myself for years. Confounded conveyance coaches anyway,” she grumbled before she craned her neck out the window to scan the area.
Quinn studied her discreetly as she leaned farther out to survey their surroundings—to check for the outlaws he had mentioned earlier, no doubt. He kept waiting for the breeze to lift that heavy veil so he could get a good look at her. But she withdrew before the air rushing past the speeding coach caught her veiled hat and sent it flying away.
“Well, thank God,” she said with a relieved sigh. “About time we had a rest stop.”
Quinn glanced outside to see the station a half mile ahead of them. He was more than ready to stretch his legs and boast of his supposed winnings to the stage line’s hired help. He silently willed the nest of outlaws to attack so he could do what he had been sent here to do. As for the perplexing widow, he thought that having her wits scared out of her might improve her disposition.
He glanced at her again as the stage rolled to a stop, then decided that being frisked and robbed would probably make her more difficult to deal with than she was already.
Piper didn’t wait for the gambler to exit the coach first so he could hand her down. She couldn’t risk having him touch her more often than necessary without arousing his suspicion.
Leaning on her cane to remain in character, she watched three Mexican attendants stride from the corral, leading a fresh team of horses. Her gaze strayed reflexively to the gambler who emerged from the coach. His long shadow fell over her, eclipsing the afternoon sun. Despite her better judgment, she found herself oddly fascinated by his rugged appearance and the confident way he held himself. The comparison to a graceful mountain cat came to mind as she watched him saunter over to strike up a conversation in Spanish with one of the attendants.
Physically speaking, he was a rare specimen of brawn and muscle. Nothing like the gentleman dandies she was accustomed to. Not that she would ever be romantically interested in any of the suitors who treated her like a prize catch because of her wealth and affluence in polite society. Neither would she be interested in a man like this gambler, she assured herself sensibly.
Truth be told, Piper wasn’t sure she wanted any man in her life at the moment. And maybe never. She had given up on the idea of love and romance because she had never found a man who inspired her affection, no one who was willing to accept her for who she was.
The whole objective of this long jaunt was to gain control of her own existence without some man trying to dictate, manipulate and use her for his ulterior purposes, she reminded herself.
Her gaze narrowed in concern while she watched the gambler fish two silver dollars from the pocket of his gold brocade vest, then roll them over his fingertips. He had told her no more than three hours ago that thieves lurked in this area. Yet here he was, flashing coins that caught the rapt attention of the stage attendants.
Piper surged forward, tapping her cane in agitation. She clutched the gambler’s arm to draw him aside. “What the dickens are you doing?” she said with a quiet hiss. “Put those coins out of sight. You might as well send an engraved invitation to outlaws that you have money for the taking.”
Quinn stared down at the old crone who stood only a few inches over five feet tall. Her mouth, he decided, was bigger than she was and she never hesitated in using it. “Where did you get the idea that anything I do is your business?”
Her head snapped up and he knew instinctively that she was glowering at him. “Your carelessness and lack of discretion might affect me. Can’t you find something else to do besides flaunt your money?”
Quinn did exactly that. He pulled another cigar from his vest and lit it up. When he blew smoke over the top of that ridiculous-looking plumed hat she grew exasperated and tramped off. Her cane beat a sharp staccato on the trodden path.
“A relative of yours, gringo?” one of the stage attendants asked as his gaze followed the old battle-ax until she disappeared around the corner of the adobe station.
Quinn chuckled. “Not hardly. We just met. I’m hoping it will be a short acquaintance.”
To ensure that the attendants knew he carried valuables as well as money, he retrieved the expensive gold pocket watch to check the time. He also flashed the diamond ring he wore on his pinky finger. He noted the interest he had drawn from one of the Mexicans—the same man he remembered from his previous jaunts along this route. He took note of the fact that the man was wearing the same patterned red bandana around his neck that another attendant had been wearing at one of the relay stations.
Quinn frowned curiously as he ambled toward the barn to stretch his legs. As he recollected, at least one attendant at every stage stop between here and El Paso wore similar bandanas. Coincidence? He didn’t think so. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was how the ring of far-flung spies identified each other.
Quinn derailed from his train of thought when he heard a wild feminine shriek. Instinctively, he took off at a dead run. When he rounded the corner of the building he saw the widow plastered against the wall, staring at the mutt that bounded around her. When she jabbed her cane forward, the mutt gnawed on the end of it.
“Get away, you beast,” she said, scowling.
“Are you talking to me?” Quinn had to ask.
“No, this mongrel.” She jerked back the cane and the oversize pup approached her.
Quinn barked a laugh when the dog reared up on its hind legs and planted its saucer-size front paws on her bosom. “He’s not attacking. For some reason the pup likes you.”
That in itself surprised him because the old harridan seemed to go out of her way to ensure folks took a wide berth around her. He was still trying to figure out why.
“Get down!” she ordered the mutt. “And behave yourself. I have dealt with enough bad manners for one day.”
To his disbelief, the mutt sank down obediently on its haunches and stared adoringly at her. The dog was obviously so starved for affection that he was ready to align himself with the devil’s sister.
“That’s much better,” she cooed at the pup.
Quinn frowned, bemused by the abrupt change in her voice. His curiosity doubled when she reached down to scratch behind the pup’s floppy ear—the other one stood straight up. Whining, the mutt rolled onto his back, paws stuck in the air, so she could scratch his belly.
“Wonders never cease,” he murmured as he left the hag with her new friend—the first and last she would likely make during this trip—to get something to eat.
Piper waited until the gambler rounded the corner before she sank to her knees to give the pup another affectionate pat. The dog had startled her when he came bounding up from nowhere to pounce zealously at her. She had expected to be attacked, but from the looks of this scrawny creature all he wanted was food and affection.
“Come along, dog,” she encouraged as she got to her feet. “If this meal is as unappetizing to the palate as the one I had for lunch then you can have my portion.”
The pup bounded onto all fours and trailed along behind her—until the station manager gave him a kick in the flanks when he tried to walk inside. “Get out and stay out, you fleabag.”
Piper whacked her cane against the man’s shins before he could give the poor pup another painful kick. “Leave him alone!” While the barrel-bellied man glowered at her, she surveyed the shadowy dining area, listening to the buzzing of flies, noting the table still had food stuck to it from previous meals. “You may bring my meal outside and don’t be stingy with the portions. In fact, I’ll have two plates for supper,” she insisted as she plucked a coin from her reticule then handed it to the proprietor.
Leaving the man staring after her, Piper spun on