The Texas Ranger's Heiress Wife
- -
- 100%
- +
“That’s okay,” he told her, trying to be encouraging. “Figuratively, you at least hit the barn this time. Try again,” he insisted.
Helena bit her bottom lip, then pressed both lips together as she pulled back on the trigger. And one of the jars shattered. Then two more exploded, one after another. “I did it. Oh, thank you.”
Maybe he should start hiring himself out to greenhorns. Or maybe she had one hell of an eye. That or it’d been beginner’s luck. “That’s good. Really good,” he forced himself to say. He took the gun, ejected the empty shells and reloaded it for her, noting her rapt expression as she watched. “There are six jars left standing,” he said, and pointed that way with the Colt. “Have at them.”
But he had eyes only for her as he heard one after another shatter. He finally looked at the fence and blinked. The fence was clear. Damn, but that’s enough to give a gunfighter a wet dream.
She sighed loudly and relaxed her tense shoulders. “At least if they do come, I can defend myself. You won’t have to worry about me.”
And that naive statement had him thumping back to earth double quick. How could she not know that was impossible?
* * *
Helena watched as confusion shadowed Brendan’s emerald eyes for a moment. Then he pressed his lips into a hard line. What had she done wrong now?
“Now there’s a load off my mind,” he all but snarled. “You can practice with a revolver on your own. Just warn the rest of us before you start.” He took the gunpowder-stained Colt and spun it into the holster on his right hip. “You do have one, don’t you?”
She looked at the gun, which had gone back where it had come from as quickly as it had appeared, and nodded. She’d bought one. Now she knew what to do with it. “Thank you,” she told him, bent on ignoring his shifting moods. But really, what had she done now?
“The lesson isn’t over,” he told her. “A Colt is a good weapon, but it’s a close-in weapon. Let’s give the Winchester a try.”
She looked at it, figuring it must weigh what she did. “But it’s so big.”
“No bigger than that shotgun you greeted me with. And it’ll blow a big hole in an attacker before he gets to your porch, and you’ll still have nine rounds to chamber, instead of two with the shotgun. I’d prefer it if you could defend yourself from a bit of a distance, havin’ ten full shots at the ready.”
She stared at him. He was so different from the man she’d married, yet still the same. She didn’t know why, but she had to know how much had changed. Could he finally see who she really was?
“Brendan, where have you been? Abby cagily mentioned whenever she got a letter, and let what you were up to drift into our conversations. But then I think the letters stopped coming, because she stopped doing so.”
He raised his left eyebrow, then nodded. “That’s a fair question, I suppose.” Still, he seemed a bit hesitant as he said, “I spent the last year or so before I came back here posin’ as a gun for hire in and around Corpus Christi. In doin’ that I managed to infiltrate and shut down a gang of outlaws who’d been terrorizin’ the residents in that part of the state. The Lyons gang, they were called. They’d eluded the law for four years before the major put me on their tails. I wired where they’d be on a certain day. Now all but three are in Huntsville Prison. The others are six feet under. They resisted arrest. The hit-and-run tactics Lyons used reminded the major of the raiders here.”
Helena tilted her head. “But they aren’t the same men—they’re in prison, right? And these are Indians. Ghost Warriors.”
“There’s a big difference between what went on down in Corpus Christi and the trouble here. Here they’re killin’ indiscriminately. Lyons was a former Confederate officer. He kept his men in check. They robbed indiscriminately, but never killed a soul. Nor did they steal horses, which is why they’re in prison and didn’t swing from a rope.”
“And you’re here because Sheriff Quinn wired for help.”
He shrugged. “Major Jones called me in and told me about these raids that started while I was...gone...and that Quinn had requested help. I have family here, so I came, but because of that I couldn’t come here posin’ as a gun for hire.”
She didn’t know why she wanted to know all this, but she did. There was an ache in her chest and she needed to understand what these last years had been about for him. “Why the rangers? It’s not what you said you wanted in the West.”
“Because of what your guardian tried to do to me.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Franklin Gowery lied to the law. They were going to arrest you because he did. You were completely innocent.”
Brendan stared at her, his green eyes narrowed and showing anger. “Why the rangers? Simple. I believe no one. I find out what needs to be discovered. I make sure what’s said is true before I put a man in shackles. I work for real justice, not some jumped-up little potentate who thinks his money gives him leave to wield power over those with no voice.”
Helena straightened her spine and planted her hands on her hips. She’d thought he felt as drawn to her as she was to him when he’d been showing her how to fire the Colt. She was such a fool! The lesson had only been about putting her fate in her own hands again. Nothing more. So once the Winchester lesson was over she’d be on her own.
And he’d once again lumped her in with Franklin Gowery and those like him. “You have a bad habit, Ranger Kane,” she snapped, her fury making his look like a child’s temper tantrum. “You forget facts at will and you judge others unfairly against your own narrow-minded yardstick of values. The poorer one is, the more noble, is that it? Sometimes the poorer the lazier, Brendan. And sometimes the lazier the more dishonest.”
She sniffed and took a step forward, poking a finger in the center of his chest. “You also seem to forget the months Joshua and I had to pretend to be engaged, so we could spy on Franklin Gowery and his Pinkerton cohorts. And you forget the night they would have put you in shackles. We risked our own freedom to spirit you out of town and save your life. And you forget the prison of a life Franklin was willing to force me into. Do you remember that period of time when all you did was stand by and watch, all but cheering him on? But that was just fine because, after all, I’m nothing but a filthy-rich heiress.”
Brendan stepped forward and reached out to her, but she knocked his hand aside, and with more strength than she knew she possessed, shoved him on his black-clad butt in the dirt. She didn’t even wait to see him land, just whirled and ran to the house. Then she tore open the side door, rushed inside and slammed and locked it. She pulled out the key for good measure, grasping it in a death grip.
She’d never let him in again.
Never.
Her breath stuttered in her chest and she wiped at her face. And stared at her wet hand. Tears! He’d made her cry. Again.
Damn him.
Chapter Four
Helena walked toward the barn, still undecided whether or not to keep her weekly luncheon appointment with Lucien Avery. She was dressed and ready.
So why was she dithering?
She never dithered!
She’d thought this out. Made up her mind about how it would look now that everyone thought Brendan had returned—supposedly to their marriage. She couldn’t stop her traditional Friday luncheons with Lucien. It would be tantamount to an admission of guilt that her meals with him were about more than companionship and conversation. They talked about the books they’d read, their lives before coming to Tierra del Verde. Not much about the ranching business, though. He didn’t like talking about that with her the way Alex did. But not doing so was restful, and an escape from the pressure of having responsibility for a spread as large as Shamrock resting on her shoulders. They were friends, she and Lucien. Only friends, no matter what others thought.
Helena stalked into the barn, annoyed with herself, and stopped short as the cool darkness enveloped her. Before her eyes adjusted to the dimness, the sound of Brendan’s voice floated her way.
He was chatting away to Harry, his black-as-pitch gelding, as if he didn’t have a care. Harry matched Brendan’s personality to a T. They were both generally easygoing until something ignited their tempers. It didn’t happen often with either of them, but it wasn’t pretty when it did.
The feelings engendered by hearing that voice answered the question she’d been contemplating on her way there. He was the reason she couldn’t make up her mind about today. Brendan was jealous of Lucien, even if he’d deny it till death. He was wrong and she intended to prove it.
But she was in no mood to do so now, and there was no reason to set a match to dry tinder. She had time before she had to leave. He’d soon ride out to look for evidence of the presence of the raiders on her land. He did it every day. That was something they did need to talk about, but he’d been avoiding her. Truthfully, she’d been avoiding him as well. Now, though, she was annoyed enough at him to demand answers to her reasonable questions. Shamrock was hers and if Bren had found any clues pointing to the culprits and their hideout, she had a right to know.
The dim recesses of the barn came into sharper focus, so she walked toward Harry’s stall. The black’s head swung her way and he trumpeted a greeting. Harry’s antics always made her smile.
Brendan turned, and she saw the exact moment he realized it was her. He stiffened up, his back going poker straight. “And what is it I can be doing for the boss lady on this fine mornin’?”
She tried not to rise to the little sarcastic spin he put on “boss,” but some things ate at a person. “You’re right.” She planted her hands on her hips and nodded decisively. “I am the boss. I didn’t ask to be, but it’s what you made of me. So in that case, you can tell the boss lady what you’ve learned about the raiders.”
Brendan seemed determined to play peacemaker that morning, after all. “Other than that they’re vicious bastards? Not a thing.”
“You have no idea who they are? Who it might be, given that you said the Indian agents have vouched for the whereabouts of all the Comanche warriors? To me that says these aren’t Indian attacks at all.”
Brendan shook his head and turned back to fastening Harry’s bridle, then reached for the saddle blanket. “Frustrating as it is, there’s no evidence to prove who the raiders are.”
Helena stiffened. He was lying. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was sure he knew more than he was willing to say.
“You’re lying. You wanted nothing to do with me or Shamrock, yet now you’re here and keeping secrets.”
He tossed the saddle on Harry’s back, then reached under the horse to buckle the cinch. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said finally, after he’d tightened the saddle down.
“You’re not annoyed that you’ve spent two weeks in the saddle, combing the hills, only to come up empty-handed? You should be chewing nails. Instead you’re in here chatting with your horse and ready to go on the hunt all over again.”
He gave a sharp nod. “That I am.”
“Either being a ranger taught you an inordinate amount of patience or you’re finding plenty out there and refusing to tell me. Why continue all this scouting if it’s a waste of time?”
“Didn’t say it was a waste. Perhaps I’m waiting to see what direction they come in from.”
“Then you picked up their trail. How else could you wait in a specific place for them to show themselves?”
Brendan blew out an impatient breath. “Or perhaps I have all corners of the spread bein’ watched. Did you think of that?”
Feeling foolish and ready to forget the whole thing, Helena started to turn away. Then she stopped. “In that case, who are you, to station men on my ranch without clearing it with me? I didn’t know you had my men watching our borders, because you’ve refused to do me the courtesy of telling me your plans for strengthening Shamrock’s defenses. My ranch’s defenses.”
His green eyes sizzled, but he said mildly, “I taught you to shoot, didn’t I?”
She clenched her fists, infuriated by his calmness. “You taught me to shoot, yes. But that’s the last I’ve seen of you.” Her voice rose as she continued, “From now on, clear every order with me. You’d never ride onto the Rocking R and order Alex’s men around without so much as a by-your-leave to him.”
Brendan smirked. “Granted, but then again, I can talk to Alex without a shoutin’ match eruptin’ within seconds of our first word. I told Mallory. He agreed to the plan. If he didn’t tell you...well, that’s not my problem, is it?”
No, Mallory certainly hadn’t told her, and they’d have words about it, but for now... “Brendan, either you learn to respect my position here and do it quickly, or you can sleep in that rocky no-man’s-land canyon and not my comfortable bunkhouse. Is that clear?”
He grinned.
“I asked you a question. I’m waiting for an answer. And what are you grinning about, you fool?” she snapped.
He took a step toward her, then another. She saw his intent in his hot gaze. He meant to kiss her. He’d always crossed from anger to arousal so easily, ending quarrels before their conclusion—one of them winning by default. But they hadn’t argued after they’d arrived in Tierra del Verde until that one day three years ago. That day he’d just shut down, signed the papers, then walked away—left her. And he’d stayed away.
Now, before she could decide what she wanted, lightning quick, his mouth was on hers. She tried to resist the leather-and-lime smell of him. But the battle was lost before it began. His kisses were meant to gentle her, and they always had before. They did now. And then the pleasure poured through her, along with that irresistible aroma of him. The firmness of his rangy muscles pressed against her length and the roughness of his callused fingers as he cupped her jaw made her want to feel his hands everywhere. She felt her own muscles go pliant, but then a nip on her lower lip demanded more. He wanted entrance. He wanted her to yield to him.
No.
She couldn’t.
If she let him in again, he’d destroy her. Despite her resolve, her limbs felt no more substantial than gelatin as they melted into him. She finally managed to gather her wits and summon strength, mental and physical. She pushed him away. Backward. Hard. He fell against Harry, shock written on his handsome features. She wanted to berate him for taking liberties, but she could no more get the words out than he seemed able to make one of his classic wiseacre comments.
He shook his head and mounted Harry. Then he stared down at her, cocky grin in place. “You look so damn cute when you get riled. Like a pretty little spittin’ kitten. Just couldn’t resist.” Then he tipped his hat and ducked through the stall door that led to the corral. He was gone before she remembered to close her gaping mouth. Which left her fuming. As usual.
Damn him.
Well, she’d show him, with all his security rules and plans. “Jimmy,” she called out.
The tack room door at the far end of the aisle opened and Jimmy’s towhead popped out. “Yes, ma’am?” His hair was in his eyes as always and he had a smudge of something on his chin.
She forced a smile. “I need my gig.” She cleared her throat and choked down the quaver she’d heard in her words. “Could you hitch it up while I go get my hat and reticule?”
“Sure thing, boss. Sorry. Forgot it was Friday. Thought with the ranger here, you might not go. You need me to ride along?”
“Ranger Kane plans to ride with me,” she lied. He’d be gone longer than she would. And if not, her absence would show him who was boss. “He’ll meet me along the ranch road. I’d help you harness up Gray, but...” She gestured to her green silk dress.
Jimmy frowned. “You going to meet Mr. Avery?”
She paused a second. “Are we friends, Jimmy?” she asked.
His eyes widened. “I hope so.”
“Have you come and eaten with me at the house?”
“Sure have. Maria’s a fine cook. Oh. Mr. Avery is...”
“My friend,” she finished. “The only difference is our ages and that the restaurant at the hotel is full of other people. Now, about the gig—”
“Oh! I’ll get right on it. And no need to be thanking me all the time, neither.”
She put her hand on his thin shoulder. “Yes, there is. My father taught me saying please and thank you costs nothing but a moment. And that there is never an excuse for bad manners with a friend or an employee.”
“Your daddy sounds like a nice man.”
Helena bit her lip and blinked away tears. “He was. And a good man. He helped a lot of people during his life.”
Jimmy nodded as if he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Her father had been her world. No one had ever understood the utter void left in her heart when Harry Conwell’s larger-than-life personality had been erased by an assassin’s bullet.
All she’d felt in the months that followed had been a bottomless well of loneliness. But then she’d stumbled across Brendan, and he’d filled the void with his all-consuming love. Then he, too, had gone from her.
Twice.
Because both times he’d found her wanting.
“Ranger Kane’s real nice, too,” Jimmy said, breaking into her thoughts. There was a hopeful tone in the boy’s voice. “I miss him when he doesn’t stay in the bunkhouse, but he is your husband, so I guess he stays with you some nights.”
Helena’s heart froze in her chest. She couldn’t answer or comment. She managed to say, “I’ll be right back,” then turned toward the front of the barn, blinking away hurtful thoughts and welling tears. Those were the nights he probably slept in some soiled dove’s bed.
Loneliness assailed Helena. Maybe someday, somewhere, the person she’d become would be enough for someone else.
If my memories of Brendan will ever let me move on.
Until then, she’d have to make do with friends. Like a bandage over a gaping wound. She wasn’t about to let Brendan deprive her of a single one of the friends she’d made.
* * *
Brendan stood after examining the fresh hoofprint. It had the distinctive nick on the right side, marking it as one ridden in the raid on Belleza. The recent print hadn’t been scrubbed away by the brisk wind.
A tremor of worry moved through him. Someone had been watching them. Watching the sentries he’d placed. The home place. The entire operation.
That someone had ridden straight into the canyon not two hours earlier. He knew, because he’d tracked the bastard.
Maybe Helena was right. Maybe he should camp out near the canyon. But the trouble with that plan was if the raiders struck from the ranch road, saving the northern canyon access for escape, he’d be thirty or forty minutes away when Helena needed him.
Restless, Brendan walked with Harry to the top of the hill. The grass was crushed where their watcher had hidden, spying for Avery.
Fury bubbled in Brendan’s veins as he mounted up and started downhill toward the home place. As he rode, he tried to weigh the pros and cons of going out to keep watch on the canyon or staying around to search for more bastards watching them.
Pretty soon he came to a realization: he couldn’t push his emotions out of the mix where Helena was concerned. Then the major’s voice echoed in his thick skull, reminding him to delegate. So he’d station a man to watch their watcher, and he’d do the same at the canyon.
Satisfied with his solution, Brendan rode to the heart of Shamrock and dismounted near the barn. As he tied Harry to the corral fence, Jimmy came tearing out of the shadows, bug-eyed. “Ranger Kane? What are you doing here? Did you miss the boss on the ranch road? You couldn’t have gone all the way and back already.”
“What in hell are you talkin’ on about, son? I was up north. Been up that way all day.”
“But the boss said...” Jimmy’s eyes widened again. “Oh. Must’a got it wrong. Forget it. You need Harry rubbed down?”
The kid knew Brendan never let anyone else rub down Harry unless it couldn’t be avoided. Wouldn’t be right. Not with all they’d been through together.
Brendan stepped forward and hooked his arm around the kid’s neck. “Jimmy,” he said, his voice quiet and low, “what’s goin’ on? Where has Helena got to that you thought I’d gone along? And tell me the truth. Think how bad you’d feel if somethin’ happened to her.” He gave the lad a little shake. “Where. Is. She?”
“She goes to the hotel restaurant Fridays...w-with a friend.”
Brendan ground his teeth, stepped back from the kid and turned to untie Harry’s reins, crushing them in his fist. Avery. He’d heard all about Helena’s Friday meals with that snake in the grass. Brendan took a calming breath. Helena had no idea of the kind of man who’d befriended her, and Brendan couldn’t tell her. Suppose Avery realized she knew? She’d become a sure target. That wouldn’t do.
Looking back at Jimmy, Brendan saw the lad was mighty worried. “I’ll keep it to myself that you told me.” He pointed, hoping to get the seriousness of the matter across to the boy. “But don’t you ever let her leave Shamrock alone. If she does, you find either me, Mallory or one of the men. Damn fool woman,” Brendan muttered as he turned back to Harry.
As he mounted, he wondered if she’d intended to ask for an outrider. He’d noticed how pretty she looked, but he’d not put that fact together with a jaunt to town. He’d never considered she might go there on her own. She’d already admitted she was scared. He’d have thought, given that fact, she’d at least have asked one of the hands to accompany her.
And she probably would have, he realized with a sinking feeling. But then he’d had to go and kiss her, just to rile that temper of hers up a bit more. That kiss had bitten him in the butt good and proper. It had probably set her thinking she’d do as she pleased to spite him. And it had reminded him of all he’d sacrificed for injured pride and his scruples.
“Just one more question, Jimmy. Where’d you get the idea I was supposed to be her escort?”
“She said so, else I’d never have let her go alone. Mr. Mallory’d have my hide.”
Brendan gave a quick tug on the reins and dug his heels into Harry’s sides, enough that the gelding knew there was reason to be in a hell of a hurry. “Damn the woman,” he spat out as he tore up the ranch road. It was bad enough that she’d go off alone, but now that poor kid back there was scared spitless.
And so was her stupid, thoughtless husband.
Suppose the damned watcher had seen her leave alone? Heart pounding, Brendan leaned over Harry’s neck and urged him on. He found himself praying Avery was so enamored of Helena he wouldn’t think to throw suspicion off him by seeing her come to harm. Brendan had hoped all along she’d be safer not suspecting her supposed friend, but jealousy still ate at him.
Jealousy he knew he had no right to feel.
He didn’t know how to act when he found them having their little tête-à-tête. He’d better be deciding right quick. She was his wife, after all, and he’d already let it be known he was home to stay. So how should he approach the situation in town, with everyone watching?
No doubt Helena would act like the fine lady she was, lest she be seen in a poor light. He didn’t want to lend fodder to the gossip, either, so he’d keep his own temper under wraps no matter how much he loathed that murdering bastard Avery.
It wasn’t till Brendan found her gig in front of the hotel that he decided what he’d do. He climbed down, tied Harry to the rear of the conveyance, pulled off his saddle and tossed it into the back. He rubbed Harry down a bit with his blanket before tossing it next to the saddle. All that was left was to climb up, settle back in the fine leather seat and wait.
* * *
Lucien Avery was a patient man. More than one fellow who’d crossed him had found that out the hard way. But his adversary this time was a lady of some fortune. Winning this kind of battle took care. And planning. It had been moving forward perfectly until Kane decided to take an interest in Shamrock.