The Ranger's Woman. Carol Finch
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were being disarmed, Quinn unfastened his holsters and laid them on the seat.
“I never would have taken you for a coward.” Agatha’s voice was harsh with disappointment. “You aren’t even going to put up a fight, are you?”
The condemnation of her words rolled off him like rain off a canvas tent. “No, I’m not. Money comes and goes. I might have the nine lives of a cat, but I’ve used up about half of them already. I don’t intend to expend another one of them today. Since you probably don’t have too many to spare yourself, I suggest you act complacent for a change.”
“When my money goes it’s gone for good,” she grumbled.
“Be quiet,” he said, making a slashing gesture with his hand. “I’m thinking.”
“Well, think fast, Calvin. We are in serious trouble here!” she muttered.
Although the outlaws wore bandanas to conceal their faces, Quinn made note of the ringleader’s bushy eyebrows and beady eyes that were shaded by his wide-brimmed sombrero.
Quinn quickly memorized the appearance of the outlaws’ horses, saddles, boots and spurs for future identification. When he brought these murdering bastards to justice he damn well intended to point an accusing finger at each and every one of them.
“Step down from the coach,” one of the men ordered gruffly. “And hurry up about it.”
Piper’s heart was pounding so hard that she swore it was about to crack a rib. She sat there second-guessing herself, wishing she had devised a better way to transport the money and valuables she had with her. Although she had tried to consider and plan for every risk involved on this cross-country trip, she had no way to forward the money she needed to make her fresh new start. Now she faced being robbed!
She cast Cal a panicky glance. For the life of her she couldn’t imagine how Cal could remain so calm and unruffled. It was as if he was sitting there staring out the window, taking mental photographs. What was the point of that? They would never see their money, valuables or these banditos again.
“I’ll go out first,” he said quietly. “This time you’re going to let me help you down, like it or not.” He stared grimly at her. “If you misstep and go tumbling down it might set off a chain reaction and all hell might break loose. Do not purposely get them riled up. Understand?”
Piper nodded jerkily, then watched Cal unfold his muscular frame from the seat and move slowly down the step. She had called him a coward, but she realized now that he was nothing of the kind. What she saw in his facial expression was utter fearlessness and coiled control. For all his projected casualness, you would have thought these bandits aiming their pistols at his chest were inviting him out to a Sunday picnic.
Her breath jammed in her chest when the suspicious thought that Cal might somehow be involved in this holdup hit her like a slap in the face. He had predicted this possibility earlier, she recalled. Plus, he hadn’t seemed the least bit alarmed by approaching bandits. Also, if she had heard the odd comment he’d made earlier correctly, she would swear that he was expecting this robbery.
Piper stiffened in outrage. That sneaky sidewinder! He would probably laugh himself silly while he retrieved the money she had crammed down the front of her padded dress. Well, they would see how long and hard he laughed when she grabbed her cane and hit him squarely in the crotch. Then he would be singing a different tune…and in a higher key!
Chapter Three
R oarke Sullivan pelted down the street of Galveston, hell-bent on his crusade to mount a patrol of capable men to track down his runaway daughter. Of course, he had a pretty good idea where Piper was bound. She had been pestering him for months to retract his decree that Penelope would be forever forbidden from acquiring her share of the Sullivan fortune.
Now, five days after Piper’s disappearance—and he had only received word an hour ago that she had not returned to her position as teaching assistant for the summer session at Miss Johnson’s Finishing School for Women—Roarke had to move quickly. He didn’t know how many days it would take his unruly, independent-minded daughter to travel across Texas, but she had to be somewhere close to her destination by now.
Roarke veered into the city marshal’s office to throw some weight around. Well known in this city, he expected his request to be met immediately.
“I need a posse to track down my daughter,” he said without preamble. “I’m putting you in charge, Drake. After all, I’m partly responsible for seeing to it that you were elected to this position.”
“Your daughter?” William Drake parroted as he drew his feet off the edge of the desk and bounded upright. “Which daughter would that be?”
“The only one I still claim,” Roarke said, and scowled. “I suspect she is headed to Fort Davis. My guess is that she took the train as far as the rails run then hopped a stage. She’s probably traveling under an assumed name so I can’t track her easily. I want you to notify law officials as far west as the telegraph lines run and order the formation of a posse.”
He loomed over the marshal who was a good six inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter. “I want reliable, responsible lawmen. Not two-bit gunslingers with the morals of hounds. I want Piper returned in the same condition she left and her fiancé-to-be damn well does, too!”
His voice boomed across the office and reverberated off the walls. “I am offering a five-hundred-dollar bonus for each posse member that escorts Piper safely back to me. There is another five hundred in it for you if you make the necessary arrangements.”
William Drake snatched up his hat. “Yes, Mr. Sullivan, I’ll get right on it.”
“I want Texas Rangers.” Roarke decided in afterthought. “Never mind about a posse.”
Drake fidgeted with the dingy hat that he had clamped in his hands. “Well, sir, that is not exactly the Rangers’ forte. They are frontier fighters, ya know.”
“They’ve been known to track down and rescue kidnap victims taken by Indians, haven’t they?”
“Yes, sir, but your daughter wasn’t exactly kidnapped, was she?”
Roarke flung his arm in an expansive gesture. “A technicality. We will quibble about that later. Just send the telegram to Ranger headquarters in Austin. I’ll add another five hundred to your bonus.”
When the marshal scuttled off, Roarke expelled an agitated sigh. “Confounded, headstrong female.”
He glared at the visual image that popped to mind. Piper had become as contrary as a mule after he had sent Penelope away without his blessing. And Roarke had paid the schoolmistress plenty of extra money to bring Piper under thumb for him.
Waste of time and money, he fumed as he wheeled around to stalk back down the street to his own office. He could buy, sell and ship merchandise at home and abroad by signing his name to contracts. But damn it, he couldn’t control that impetuous girl of his at all. He had money galore and barrels of influence and prestige. But what good did it do when he couldn’t handle one pint-size female who was the last heir to his vast fortune?
Damnation, he had found Piper the perfect fiancé, too. John Foster hailed from a distinguished family. He had been groomed to take over his father’s merchant business since the age of fifteen. This was to be an exceptional match, the merging of two influential families among the crème de la crème of Galveston society.
Until Piper had defied his wishes and left without notice.
Roarke growled in annoyance as he shouldered his way through his office door. Piper could run, but she couldn’t hide from him, he thought confidently.
Scowling mutinously, Piper eased a foot onto the narrow step to confront the desperadoes. She wanted to bite Cal’s offered hand instead of grabbing hold of it for support. And there was that cool, unflinching stare of his again—the one that indicated that he was nowhere near as rattled and upset