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The Texas Ranger's Daughter
Jenna Kernan


OUTLAWS DON’T BECOME RANGERS……or even suitable husbands for proper young women like Ranger’s daughter Laurie Bender. Big, bad Boon should know this – he once rode with the most notorious outlaw in Texas! To redeem himself, and be in with a shot at a coveted Ranger’s Star, he must now rescue this feisty little lady from his former gang.Laurie represents everything a dangerous man like Boon can never have: she’s beautiful, honourable…and when they share a stolen kiss Boon starts dreaming the impossible.










“My father saw something in you. I see it, too. You’re the only one who doesn’t know that you’re a hero.”

“That’s wrong.”

Laurie gnawed her lower lip. If he was a hero, he wouldn’t be thinking of kissing her again.

“Then what’s in this for you?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He glanced away and felt her hand clamp on his arm.

“He didn’t promise you anything? You didn’t ask for anything?”

He shook his head.

“But you’re hoping for something? Something important? Something you won’t have otherwise? You bring me home and my father is indebted to you. What is it he can give you?”

Boon’s face heated and he looked away. Laurie gasped.

“You want to be a Texas Ranger!” Her jaw dropped open at the startling discovery. Boon wanted to be a lawman—protect the weak, uphold the law. She blinked in astonishment.

His eyes narrowed and his features hardened into a nasty scowl. He tugged his arm free. “They don’t let outlaws into the Rangers.”

She ignored that. “But that proves my point. A good man. I knew it all along.”


AUTHOR NOTE

I had so much fun researching Texas for THE LAST CAHILL COWBOY that I just couldn’t leave the state.

In this story you’ll meet a feisty heroine, Laurie Bender, daughter of a famous Texas Ranger, who is trying so hard to be the perfect lady that it nearly kills her. I’ve loved watching Laurie gaining confidence and independence as she loses more and more of her clothing. For me, her proper attire is an outward symbol of the lie she is living.

Her hero, Boon, has had none of the advantages Laurie’s enjoyed, but also none of the confinements. He’s the son of a whore, with no daddy and no last name. But he is more than the rough, tough outlaw he appears. Inside he longs for the respect and belonging that comes with wearing a Ranger’s Star. But past mistakes have closed that door to him for ever. He’s ridden with the most notorious gang in Texas and Laurie’s a lawman’s daughter. He knows what he wants and can’t have it. She knows what’s expected and doesn’t want it.

I simply loved telling their story. The words just flew onto the pages. I hope you enjoy Laurie and Boon’s adventure as they escape from outlaws and run for their lives. For more about THE TEXAS RANGER’S DAUGHTER visit my website at www.jennakernan.com and look for my ‘Story Behind the Story’ page.

And, as always, enjoy the adventure!




About the Author


Every bit as adventurous as her heroines, JENNA KERNAN is an avid gold-prospector, searching America’s gold-bearing rivers for elusive nuggets. She and her husband have written several books on gem and mineral hunting. Her debut novel, WINTER WOMAN, was a RITA® Award finalist for Best First Book.

Jenna lives with her husband and two bad little parrots in New York. Visit her on the web at www.jennakernan.com, for news, contests and excerpts.

Previous novels by Jenna Kernan:

WINTER WOMAN

TURNER’S WOMAN

HIS BROTHER’S BRIDE

(part of Wed Under Western Skies)

THE TRAPPER

FALLEN ANGEL

(part of A Western Winter Wonderland)

HIGH PLAINS BRIDE

OUTLAW BRIDE

SIERRA BRIDE

HIS DAKOTA CAPTIVE

THE SHERIFF’S HOUSEKEEPER BRIDE

(part of Western Winter Wedding Bells)

GOLD RUSH GROOM



Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




The Texas Ranger’s Daughter

Jenna Kernan





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)






To Jim—now and always.




Chapter One


Northwest of San Antonio, Texas, 1879

The men watched her with hungry eyes. Laurie Bender sat perfectly still outside the circle of firelight, hands bound before her, praying to disappear, knowing from the long, lustful stares that not one of the outlaws had forgotten about her.

She had endured a night and day of hell since her abduction from the train station in San Antonio. She’d been bound, tied and bounced over rough country in the back of a buckboard until she was black-and-blue. But that would be nothing compared to what awaited her next.

She cast a quick glance around the circle to find the biggest ruffian staring at her. The instant their eyes met, he rubbed his groin in the most lewd gesture she had ever seen. She dropped her gaze but could not contain her gasp of shock. The blood drained from her face so fast that her cheeks tingled and her ears began to ring. His laughter raised the hairs on her neck; it was a cruel sound filled with malice and menace. From then on, Laurie kept her eyes on the fire.

If only her father would come before it was too late. Had her letter reached him? Did he even know to expect her?

“Rider!”

The shout came from the ridge above the outlaws’ filthy little camp, squatting against the cliff of a box canyon around the remains of a broken-down adobe ranch house. The structure now lacked a roof and had been abandoned, Laurie supposed, for lack of one single thing a ranch needed.

All nine men set aside their bottles and rose to their feet, drawing their guns in unison. Three melted into the darkness while the others fanned out. Two mounted up and rode past the second sentry, who was perched high on the cliff above them.

The big one in the gray hat took the opportunity to come straight at her. He grabbed her hair as one might grasp a troublesome weed and yanked, forcing her head back.

He nuzzled against her neck above the top of the knife-pleated ruffle that topped her blouse and then brought his lips to her ear.

“I’m taking you now,” he growled.

A pistol cocked close to Laurie’s head and the man let go so fast she stumbled.

“I like ya, Larson. I do. But I can’t abide a man not following orders.” It was the voice of their leader, George Hammer. Laurie recognized it, would never forget it as long as she lived. Everyone in Texas had heard of George Hammer and his gang because he killed all witnesses of each robbery he committed down to the last woman and child. His soul must be as black as ink. Laurie knew he would be punished in the afterlife, but that belief was cold comfort now.

Her father was one of the men after Hammer. Laurie closed her eyes, imagining her father’s division of Texas Rangers storming the camp.

The painful grip on her hair eased away and her scalp tingled in relief as Larson stepped back.

“Been a long time since we had a woman, boss,” Larson whined.

“Now you apologize to our little guest.” The outlaw stood with Larson, moving in a slow-motion pantomime that made Laurie’s heart pound.

Hammer held the cocked pistol barrel pressed to his underling’s forehead. Larson didn’t seem to be breathing, but he sure was sweating. Laurie wondered how he liked being so afraid he couldn’t draw breath? Suddenly he didn’t look so tough.

“‘Pologize!” demanded Hammer.

Larson’s eyes shifted to her and she read the glittering hatred there. She prayed he would not have opportunity to seek revenge against her for this perceived grievance. She lifted her chin in defiance, feigning a bravery she did not feel, trying still to be her father’s daughter.

“Yes, ma’am. I sure do. I sure am sorry.”

“Now git,” said Hammer, prodding him with the cold steel. Larson toppled like a falling tree, landed on his backside in the dust and then scuttled away like a scorpion. Laurie noted the pink ring mark on the outlaw’s forehead, the imprint of George Hammer’s pistol.

George Hammer grabbed Laurie’s bound hands and squatted, drawing them both back to a seat on the log, as if they were good friends, except he kept a fist on the ropes, squeezing so the bonds rubbed her chafed skin. All the while he kept that pleasant smile fixed upon his lips. Laurie shivered.

“Time for that later, I reckon,” he said, watching Larson disappear from the circle of light cast by the fire. Then he returned his gaze to her.

He looked her over with a critical eye and nodded. Laurie realized his smile never reached his eyes. Oh, no. His eyes were flat and lifeless as smoked glass.

“You don’t look much like him. He don’t have your dark hair or eyes. Your ma as pretty as you?”

She looked away in answer and learned her mistake when he grasped her chin and wrenched her forward to look at him.

“You know what your pa done to my kin?”

Laurie shook her head, anxiety sitting heavy in her belly, but she kept her posture straight, due for the most part to the long-boned corset that reached her hips, supporting her now that her spine proved unable to do so. She’d lost her straw hat and her upswept hair now tumbled in a dark tangle over one shoulder. Hammer settled beside her and stared off into the camp instead of at her. “Because of him, I had to bring my little brother home to our mama with his tongue all swollen and purple. Wasn’t a proper hanging, just strung him up on his horse, so it didn’t break his neck.” The outlaw stroked Laurie’s throat, washing her insides with cold terror. His grip tightened. “He strangled real slow. That’s a hard death. Your pa did that.”

Her voice croaked like a frog’s. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He released her hands and gave them a gentle pat. He turned to face her, letting her see his bloodshot eyes narrowing on her with hatred. “You will be. I’ll see to that. Time your pa gets here, there won’t be much left.” He snorted. “I mean to have justice. Promised my ma I’d make him pay. My little brother for his little girl. But we won’t kill ya.” He leaned in, so that her nose nearly touched his big greasy one. “But you’ll wish we would.” He glanced toward his men, all waiting for the rider. “First I’ll let ‘em get drunk, real drunk. Drunk men ain’t gentle.” He gave her knee a little squeeze. “’Spect they’ll pass you around with the bottle. Gonna be a long night. So you best rest up.”

She could hear hoofbeats now. Someone shouted.

“It’s Boon. He’s alone.”

The men holstered their guns, except Hammer.

“You take his pistols?” asked their leader.

“Yeah,” called one of the riders, holding up a holster with its weapon still sheathed within.

Three riders trotted into the circle of men. It wasn’t her father or one of his Rangers. Her disappointment weighed down upon her. If she’d had a way to take her own life she surely would have. But George Hammer had taken even that, since he left her nothing with which to save herself from ruination.

Laurie’s attention went to the new arrival. He rode a shod bay quarter horse with a white blaze down its nose and entered the camp at a slow walk as if he owned the place. The rider’s lean body was sheathed in a tan canvas duster. A gray hat with a wide flat brim shaded his face. Beneath he wore a navy blue work shirt, fawn-colored kerchief, a scarred leather vest and dark striped trousers tucked into narrow black boots with pointed toes that fit neatly into the stirrups. He swung gracefully from the saddle, holding the reins as he lifted his gaze and scanned the group of men. Each stood at alert, hands poised to reach for their guns. Was this unarmed man so dangerous?

Laurie glanced to the rider’s narrow hips, noticing he wore no holster but had maintained possession of a knife, judging from the antler handle protruding from the top of his right boot.

Boon stepped closer, approaching Hammer. He had a square jaw covered with dark whiskers that didn’t obscure the cleft. He lifted his chin and now she could see his face. Her breath caught as she realized he was young and handsome. His size, confident manner and liquid grace had fooled her into assuming he was older, but he seemed to be her own age, perhaps only eighteen or nineteen. The firelight cast his bronze skin orange, but she could see his eyes were pale, like seawater.

“Thought you was dead, Boon.” George Hammer stepped forward, grabbed Boon’s collar and tugged, exposing his neck. “Don’t see no rope burns.” He pushed him away.

Boon caught himself easily and his spurs jangled. Laurie noticed one hand ball to a fist before he relaxed, stretching out his long fingers.

“Why ain’t you dead?”

Boon met the outlaw’s gaze with a steady one of his own.

“Don’t know. My horse fell on me. Don’t recall what came next. When I woke up you fellers were gone and the Rangers, too.”

Hammer narrowed his eyes, his long nose nearly touching Boon’s. “They caught Wilson. How’d you get away?”

Boon gave an easy shrug. “Caught my horse and rode the other way.”

So he was an outlaw, just like the rest of them. Laurie’s hopes flagged. Why had she let his beautiful face make her think he could not be a criminal? She had enough experience to know that looks were no indication of whether a man or woman was good or bad.

Cal stepped into the light. This was Hammer’s second in command, a short, lean man. His trimmed goatee, air of authority and Southern accent all made Laurie wonder if he had been an officer for the Confederacy from one of the original secessionist states, Virginia or Georgia perhaps.

He approached Boon, circling him as if Boon was a recruit called out for inspection.

“They shot your horse, Boon,” said Cal.

“But they didn’t kill him. I did that, riding toward San Antonio. Bled to death not four miles from the last stage station. Told the station master I got bushwhacked by Comanche.”

“Damn fine horse, that,” said Hammer, straightening up, a note of remorse in his voice. “Fast as prairie lightning.”

“He was that.”

Hammer’s mouth twitched. Laurie found herself holding her breath, though why she should care whether Hammer believed this man’s story, she did not know.

“You been gone awhile.”

Boon nodded. “Had to steal a horse and I ran into some trouble over the saddle.”

Hammer whirled, closing the distance between them. “Trouble?”

Laurie inched farther from the circle, praying for some opportunity to run. They had secured her wrists in front of her, but left her legs free. If she could get up on that horse she might get away in the dark. She was a good rider, or had been, in what now seemed another lifetime.

Hammer grabbed the front of Boon’s shirt in his fist. Boon didn’t cower the way Larson had, nor did he lift a hand to defend himself.

“You bring anyone this way and I’ll skin you alive.”

“I left that deputy in Abilene. Lay low for a few days. Been looking for you ever since. Tried the holdup we used north of San Antonio but 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.

He meant to have his pound of flesh.

She knew Larson was fully capable of breaking a man’s jaw with one punch and she wondered why Boon looked so lackadaisical. The others moved to form a ring, grinning and shouting, perhaps hoping that the fight would take out one or both of them, leaving an open field. Cal rose to gain a better vantage point, leaving her unattended, just outside the ring of cheering men.

Larson lifted his fists. “Still time to back down.”

Boon shook his head.

Laurie’s stomach tightened. Help was not coming. She needed to do for herself or die in the attempt. She tried to think what a Ranger would do and wondered if she might sneak away in the melee. But at that moment, George Hammer sat beside her, drawing his gun and then crossing his arms so the pistol pointed casually at her.

“You just sit back down now and watch the show. You’ll be the show soon enough. I hope it’s Larson. He’s big and mean as a bull. Like him to be your first. But you’ll take them all, some more than once. By the time the sun’s up, you’ll be begging me for this bullet.” He lifted the barrel of his gun. “My, your daddy will be grieved.”

His smile was a bitter combination of warm satisfaction and icy vengeance. Laurie struggled not to vomit as terror gripped her belly.

The men circled each other. She could not draw her eyes from them, one slender, muscular and quick, one slow, beefy and enormous. Who would be the first to rape her?




Chapter Two


Laurie tried to draw up her knees to her chest, but her corset and bustle prevented her, so she inclined to the side, legs tucked under her skirt with one elbow resting on the log behind her as she watched. Time seemed to slow as Larson swung a bone-crushing fist at Boon’s head and missed. Boon, smaller and faster, ducked, then landed a blow to Larson’s ribs before spinning away as the older man bellowed. Another swing and another miss. This time Boon used his elbow to strike the back of Larson’s head.

Both men were dirty fighters, but Boon was faster and stayed out of the man’s reach. If Larson got his hands on him, Laurie felt certain Boon would be finished. The bigger man made a grab for his opponent and Boon used the heel of his hand against his rival’s nose. The crunch made Laurie gag. His broken nose gushed blood down his indigo denim shirt and greasy brown vest. A moment later, Larson’s left eye swelled shut and the big man began to stagger. He drew his gun. The men ceased cheering and dived for cover at the exact moment Boon lunged at Larson’s legs, using his body like a rolling barrel to take the man down.

Laurie didn’t know when it happened but she found herself rooting for Boon, clearly the underdog. What was the matter with her? She should hope they all killed each other and left her in peace.

Boon sprang to his feet and used his boot heel to crush Larson’s shooting hand, still clutching the pistol. The downed man howled like a feral animal as his fingers crunched. Boon retrieved the gun from the ground.

He aimed it at Larson. The man stopped screaming and cradled his mangled hand to his chest. Boon cocked the trigger.

The clearing now fell so silent, Laurie could hear the burning logs crackle and pop in the fire.

George Hammer rose and stepped forward. The men parted as he approached. He glanced coldly at Larson, lying like a defeated gladiator in the ring. Laurie recalled this was his pick and shivered. Hammer turned his head and narrowed his eyes on Boon. The younger outlaw was so still, he seemed carved of marble, but he still aimed the gun at Larson’s big ugly bleeding nose.

Boon did not look to their leader, but seemed to be waiting for something.

“Finish him,” growled Hammer.

There was no hesitation. Boon squeezed the trigger. The shot exploded as Laurie screamed. Larson twitched as the bullet passed through his forehead and then he went still, his feet lolling in opposite directions as his injured hand slipped to the ground.

Her cry and the pistol shot rang in her ears as her mind tried to reconcile such savagery.

Hammer clapped Boon on the shoulder. Boon lowered Larson’s smoking pistol.

“Glad to have you back, Boon.” He turned toward the men. “Larson pulled his pistols. If Boon hadn’t shot him, I woulda.”

Boon slid Larson’s gun behind the buckle of his belt. “Who’s next?”

The men shifted restlessly. Larson was the biggest among them and Boon had taken him down without suffering a scratch. The others were right to take his guns, but even without them, he’d bested their top man.

Laurie glanced about the rough-looking men. They eyed her with lust, but none stepped out to face Boon. Laurie’s stomach rolled as she realized they didn’t have to. Boon had not won her. He’d just won her first. If they were patient they’d still have their turn. No need to get shot over a woman.

Hammer wrapped an arm about Boon’s shoulder. “He’s one of us, boys.”

Was he? Laurie eyed the young man. Despite the dust and stubble there was something about him that was different than the others, but perhaps this was only her mind grasping for any slim thread of hope. Then she remembered the slap and how Boon had deflected it, protecting her from harm. She watched Boon, trying to see inside his soul.

Hammer went on, as if presenting him to a family gathering, the prodigal son, returning to the flock of thieves.

“I said so the first time I laid eyes on you. Bad Boon, one of us again. Welcome home, son.”

The men nodded their approval, accepting the will of their leader, all except Larson, of course. Laurie ventured a glance at the murdered man and was immediately sorry as her stomach heaved.

“Thanks.” Boon’s eyes narrowed and swept the gang, pausing to meet each man’s cold stare. “Good to be back.”

Hammer slapped him on the shoulder. “She’s all yours. Have at her.”

Boon didn’t move.

“Well?” said Hammer.

“Not in front of them.” He pointed at the others.

Hammer scowled. “What? You too shy to let them see your pecker?”

Boon said nothing.

“Maybe I’ll just give her to Cal.”

“I won.”

Hammer glared. Boon didn’t blink. Laurie found she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Their leader might just as soon shoot the newest member of his group as back down. The men stood watchful, waiting for the drama to play out.

Hammer broke into a grin and then gave a laugh. “All right then, boy. Drag her off in the dark and give her a poke, but don’t take too long, else I’ll send the boys for their turn.”

Boon came for her then, his gaze cold and dead, walking fast as if this were some burden he did not savor. She made a poor attempt at evasion and he snatched her up, dragging her to her feet as the others laughed and jeered.

She expected to see lust in his eyes, but instead he captured her gaze with one laced with what looked like regret. Laurie felt unreasonable hope welling again. What was wrong with her? He was an outlaw. She’d just watched him kill a man. To save her, echoed her mind. Was that the reason?

Boon laced his fingers into her long hair, now a tangled mess of pins and tendrils, what remained of the neat bun she had fashioned at her nape yesterday morning.

He drew her forward until her breasts pressed flush against the hard contours of his chest. At that intimate contact she sucked in a breath, shocked by the rush of pleasure such pressure stirred. Her eyes flashed to him, taking in the hard angles of his jaw and the eyes that seemed feral orange in the firelight.

Then he angled her head and she realized that he meant to kiss her before them all. His mouth slanted over hers. His lips were firm and his tongue hot and wet as it slid inside her mouth. She tried to struggle, but he held her firm. Her skin flashed feverish in an instant as a tremor shook her. He deepened the kiss. She moved her tongue along his, feeling the warm velvet of his mouth, tasting the sweetness of him. She leaned forward, pressing against him.

The men whistled and shouted. Laurie came back to herself with a jolt. To her horror she felt the insistent pulse of desire beating at the juncture of her legs.

Laurie tried to break free. His muscles tensed as he resisted, but then allowed her to draw back. He stared down at her with a look that was part lust and part astonishment, as if he could not comprehend her reaction any more than she could.

She whimpered as humiliation scorched her cheeks. How could she do something so low? She closed her eyes against the shame, like a child trying to disappear in plain sight. Had he not held her upper arm, she would have collapsed, for her knees now refused to hold her.

How could she be aroused by this ruthless murderer?

She struggled, but could no more escape him than a trussed turkey could escape the axe, once its head was set upon the block. As George Hammer had predicted, she had now become the show.

This is what she had feared, every waking minute since that terrible day. Laurie fought her own shame as much as the hold of the outlaw.

She had tried to act as a proper woman, but it was just that—an act. Boon’s kiss had revealed the truth. She was wanton and wicked and low, just as she feared. Had her father seen it despite her attempt to hide the truth? Had he known she was unworthy of his love? Was it her fault all along that he left them?

Laurie staggered as her knees gave way, but Boon prevented her from falling, tugging her back against him. His brow now lifted in speculation. Clearly he had not anticipated an eager partner. Laurie struggled vainly in the iron grip of the outlaw and finally let her head sink to her chest as she went still and silent. She continued to tremble as if she stood in the snow, instead of beside a fire under a warm September sky.

“Anyone pokes his nose in before I’m finished with her and I’ll shoot it off.”

The men glared but remained by the fire as he dragged her away. She stumbled along beside him. Behind them she heard George Hammer.

“Boon’s young, boys. But young men are quick. He’ll only be a minute. Where’s that bottle? Cal, pass it around. Freet, Furlong, drag off the body. Throw him in the canyon for the buzzards.”

Boon tugged her along, but was clearly not happy with her pace because he paused long enough to lift her into his arms before breaking into a dead run.

Laurie screamed and heard the men laughing and jeering. The night was moonless and dark as black velvet. She could see nothing as she bounced in his arms, now fearing they might fall and break their necks.

His voice rumbled through her body as he spoke. “Stop or I’ll leave you behind.”

What did he mean by that?

Laurie’s mind dwelled again on how Boon had pulled her from the blow that George Hammer had aimed at her cheek with such finesse that the man had not even recognized what Boon had done. Her gut told her to do as he said. Still, she’d been wrong before, so wrong. Wrong about Anton, wrong about the outlaw at the station who pretended to be one of her father’s men.

Laurie considered her options and decided one outlaw was better than many. One outlaw could not watch her day and night, and she might still escape.

She went limp, lying trustingly as a newborn lamb in his arms. She did not think they would get far afoot and already feared what would happen when they were caught. George Hammer had a well-earned reputation for mercilessness. One would have to be a fool not to fear him and completely insane to cross him. She looked up at the man who carried her. Which was he?

“Where are we going?”

“Quiet,” he huffed and spun her up and over his shoulder as if he had some special gift for tossing young ladies about as if they were sacks of feed.

Her new position caused his shoulder to buffet her abdomen with each running stride, sending her corset stays digging into her flesh. She could scarcely draw a breath and the blood drained to her head, making it pound until she felt dizzy enough to faint.

Just as suddenly as they had begun, he stopped, grabbing her unceremoniously by the waistband of her new lavender overskirt and tugging her to her feet.

The soft nicker told her that there was a horse nearby.

“You planned this?” she asked.

He did not answer, but left her to move in the direction of the horses. She saw them now, two large dark outlines against the canyon wall. He checked the saddle girth and the leather buckle holding the saddlebags tied across the horse’s rump.

She stepped closer and saw a leather rifle scabbard tied beneath the saddle flap. The butt end of the rifle gleamed in the starlight.

There, looped over the saddle horn, was a leather cartridge belt, loaded with bullets. The twin holsters held two pistols.

Boon donned the cartridge belt, strapping it low on his hips and tying the holsters to each thigh. He stowed Larson’s pistol in the boot not holding his knife. Then he turned to her and she took a step away, but not quickly enough, for he captured her about the waist.

“Up!” he said and hoisted her, then plunked her down upon the saddle, heedless of the tangle of her skirts or the complete impropriety of a woman sitting a saddle in such a fashion. An instant later, he was mounted behind her, spurring their horse. The hoofbeats told her that the second horse was strung to the saddle behind the first.

“Is this a rescue?”

“Sentry hears you, we’re done.”

Laurie closed her mouth as she looked around in the dark. She didn’t speak again.

He made a growling sound in his throat and then wrapped his arms about her. “Hold on.”

He gripped the reins, as Laurie held the saddle horn with both hands.

He had killed a man to free her. Did he want her singularly or was there a slim chance that this madness was a rescue?

They did not take off at a gallop as she would have liked, but at a steady walk along the road Laurie had traveled in the buckboard when she arrived. The night was so black that she could not see two feet before them and wondered how the horses made their way.

The journey was slow, torturously slow. Laurie strained her ears for the sound of pursuit. Boon’s big body encircled hers. He wrapped one arm about her waist and dragged her into the pocket made by his chest and thighs and hunched so her corset stays impaled the soft flesh beneath her breasts.

He was warm and smelled of sweat and leather. Her chin fit under his jaw and occasionally his stubbly face scratched against her hair, further tangling the bird’s nest it had become. She sat stiff with tension, trembling and breathing as quickly as she could, given the constraints of his grip and her corset.

“Shouldn’t we go faster?”

“Horse breaks a leg and we’re caught. Plus a walking horse is quiet. You can’t hear the hoofbeats from up there.” He motioned to the cliffs above them.

“I can’t see,” she whispered.

“Neither can the sentry, but the horses can.

Now be still.”

She clamped her lips down on the dozens of questions she wished to ask. Who was he? Had her father sent him? What were his intentions? Would they make it?

When they reached the canyon floor the sky opened up above them and the starlight glowed weakly. Rocks now loomed like outlaws hunched to spring out. They passed a scrubby piñon pine on an outcropping that so resembled a man she nearly screamed a warning.

They turned left, heading south.

“We came from that direction,” she whispered.

“And that’s the way they’ll expect us to go. Box canyons and narrow draws this way. But I got little choice.”

Behind them came the sound of gunfire.




Chapter Three


Bullets pinged off the sheer rock face of the canyon behind them.

“Firing blind in the draw, hoping to hit us,” whispered Boon.

The horses set off at a trot that flowed into a lope. She craned her neck, seeing the flash of pistol fire as the sound of the riders grew louder.

Boon left the road. The horse carrying them stumbled, but recovered its footing. They slowed to a walk again and then stopped. Boon slid off the dark horse, dragging her along.

“Damned dress shines like a bedsheet.”

Laurie glanced down to see it was so. The white pleated lace at her cuffs and the pale fitted lavender bodice with matching overskirt seemed to glow from within. Only the dark blue-violet fabric of her underskirt, visible below the hem of her lavender draping, vanished in the near darkness. He pushed her back between two rocks, holding the reins of both horses in one hand and her waist with the other, using his body to block hers.

She cowered behind him, clutching his vest and burying her face in the warm leather. Laurie remained motionless as the rocks, listening as the sound of hoofbeats grew closer. Gradually, the shout of riders grew more distant and the gunfire ceased.

Boon drew her out of the narrow gap. “They’ll figure out which way we went pretty quick and be back again. Got an hour maybe to get ahead of them. None of them can see to track and they won’t know which canyon we ducked into so we got a better than average chance of losing them in the dark.” He lifted her bound hands and retrieved the knife from his boot, then sliced the ropes that had held her since her capture. She rubbed the imprints left by the cord upon her wrists with her gloved hand and flexed her numb fingers as needles of pain returned with the blood.

He turned his back, rummaging in his saddlebags. Laurie took the opportunity to run, but hindered by the restriction of the formfitting overskirt at her hips, she only reached the second horse when she heard a curse.

He was on her in an instant, capturing her about the waist, hoisting her off her feet and tucking her under his arm. Then he walked back from the horses with her draped across his hip like a naughty child.

“Ain’t you got no sense? I’ll tie you again.” He set her on her feet and held her by the shoulders.

Even in the weak light of the stars she could make out his brow sunk low over his pale eyes as he scowled at her.

“Let me go.”

“They’ll catch you quicker than a treed possum. You got to mind me or we both die. Now, take off that getup.”

Laurie gasped, then inched back as he advanced. Her bustle bumped into the rock face. She tried to wedge herself into the narrow gap beyond his reach. He captured her wrist easily and dragged her out. Had he done all this just to do to her what the others would have done?

“Take it off,” he hissed.

“I won’t,” she said.

Behind them, retreating now, she could hear the men shouting Boon’s name.

“They’ll see you and they’ll catch us,” he said, as he glanced back in the direction of the riders. She had a chance then to draw his pistols and shoot him in the belly. She reached and then stopped, her fingers inches from the handle.

The riders would hear the shot and come back. What chance would she have then?

The answer was simple—none. She didn’t trust Boon, but she couldn’t shoot him. Laurie withdrew her hands, letting him live for now, hoping it wasn’t another mistake. She glanced at his boot knife as he turned back to face her. She knew how to use a knife, but had never used one on a man.

Laurie stood mute now, pressed against the rock face.

He fumbled with the top button of her blouse.

She slapped at his hand, wishing she had shot him when she had the opportunity.

“Then you do it. I’ll get the clothes.”

Laurie stilled. Clothes? What was he talking about? She stood before him as he turned his back again and retrieved something from his saddlebags, then shoved it at her.

“They’re boys’ duds. Hurry up now.”

She clutched the offering. He meant for her to change, to increase their chances of escape. Laurie felt the air rush from her lungs and suddenly she could breathe again. Thank God she hadn’t shot him.

She unfolded the bundle. Denim dungarees and a dark linsey-woolsey shirt and no underthings. She hadn’t worn such garments since she was a girl, riding with her father back in San Antonio.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He did. Laurie blinked in astonishment. With a speed born of panic, she removed her dirty white cotton gloves and unfastened her jacket with trembling fingers, drawing off the basque bodice and dropping it without hesitation. Next she released the waistband of her fitted topskirts, followed by the darker underskirt, kicking them aside. The very latest thing, according to Peterson’s Ladies National Magazine, the newer slimmer style was now a liability she could not afford. She had created the outfit, top to bottom, to impress her father with how much she had changed, at least on the outside. But the yards of fabric and lace were not worth dying for. She dropped the petticoats, then the half crinoline that helped support the skirt’s draperies and the cascade of fabric of her topskirt’s train. A yank released the bow fastening the horsehair bustle that had come by rail from New Hampshire.

“What’s taking so long?”

The man obviously knew nothing about women’s attire, thought Laurie as she unfastened the lace ruffle at her throat and released the buttons of her white blouse.

“Just a minute.”

Dressed now in only her bustle, thigh-length chemise, bloomers, stockings and boots, she tried to draw on the pants but her bloomers hiked up and wadded about her waist and she could not manage to drag the Levi’s over her hips.

“Hurry up,” he whispered.

She pressed her lips together and tugged harder. Forced to abandon the effort, she considered riding in her bloomers, but that was out of the question. All women’s bloomers were split from front to back to allow her to relieve herself without removing any of her under things or outer skirts. She blushed to think of how she once wore britches and dragged them down whenever and wherever she needed. Her mother had been quite right to object to her boyish ways. But now if she rode in this outfit, the fabric would gap if she straddled a horse and her bloomers were white as the flag of surrender.

“Laurie,” Boon urged.

She began again, removing her bloomers. The trousers were tight and stiff, but she now managed to tug them on, thanks to her corset. She tucked the long chemise into the trousers. Laurie collected her gloves and stuffed them in her front pocket before hunching into the shirt. The coarse fabric brushed against her bare shoulders. She felt him staring and stilled.

Laurie glanced up and caught his eye. He looked at her with the intent gaze of a starving man. She tugged the flaps of the boys’ shirt together and only then realized they did not quite cover her breasts.

“Turn around,” she ordered again.

This time he shook his head in refusal. There was a new tension in him as if he was held in place by some invisible tether. Laurie’s heartbeat accelerated as she recognized that she now faced a different kind of danger, the kind that came from showing a man her naked body.

“They’ll be back in a moment,” she warned, but she was not sure he heard her.

He stepped forward, reaching, his fingertips brushing the full round curve of the exposed tops of her breasts. She gasped and spun away, clutching her hands across her cleavage.

“I shall scream.” It was an idle threat. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, because to scream was to draw more danger than she faced now.

But her words seemed to rouse him, for he blinked and then shook his head as if waking from a trance. He stooped to snatch up her discarded garments while Laurie tried frantically to button the shirt. She managed to get it fastened about her torso, thanks to the corset cinching her middle, but the tight fit squeezed her breasts together so they bulged at the gap in a most lurid manner.

She stared down at her white flesh, thrusting up in an open invitation, and gasped in despair. The action caused her breasts to strain against the buttons that imprisoned them. Were it not a sturdily constructed boys’ shirt, she felt sure the tension would have split the seams.

Boon returned to the horses, stuffing her clothing into his saddlebags as she covered herself with her open hands, searching wildly for some other means to conceal her bosom from his view.

Boon turned. His arms dropped to his sides and his shoulders sank as if she had somehow defeated him.

“You must think I’m made of stone,” he whispered.

She would have liked to point out that he was the one who chose these items for her.

“They don’t fit.”

“Because they told me you were a girl.”

Who had told him? The hope surged, blending with the terror to steal her breath once more. Had he come just for her? Who was he? Who had sent him?

He had her wrist now, and then captured her leg, heaving her back up on the horse without a word. The dungarees stretched tight against her bottom and she feared the seam would fail. She’d never worn any garment that rubbed so intimately against her most private places. A moment later the saddle shifted under his weight as he drew up behind her.

“You’re no girl,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning her neck. He made it sound like a condemnation.

She felt his legs pressing the horse’s sides, and they set off again, into the canyons, away from the riders and into the night.

Boon pulled Laurie flush against him. He didn’t need to, but he figured if he was going to get a bullet in his back over this gal, he might just as well have the benefits of holding on to her.

He gave the horse its head, letting it pick its way along the rough trail left by the mule deer. The horse walked briskly along, but he kept them just shy of a trot. The gelding’s night vision was far superior to his, but he didn’t want his mount stepping into a hole and breaking a leg.

“What is your Christian name, Mr. Boon?” Laurie’s whispered question sounded like a gunshot in the stillness of the night.

His lip curled in response. He wasn’t like most folks with a first and last name. He had only one.

“It’s just Boon.”

He could feel the tension in her. What was she thinking? That he didn’t want her to know his full name? If he had a last name he’d surely tell her. But he did not have one and that was all.

“I see,” she whispered. But she didn’t, couldn’t, not without knowing where he’d come from and damned if he’d tell her that.

He turned his thoughts back to the danger they faced. The men chasing them were all drunk and they couldn’t see in the dark any better than he could. Best to go easy until the moon rose, saving the horses, and then slap leather. That gave him the rest of the night with Laurie in his arms. It was the kind of temptation he never expected to face, having been told he was retrieving a girl.

Boon snuggled her against him, wondering who she was.

Why hadn’t the captain told him that the girl he was rescuing was a full-grown woman? Maybe he didn’t figure he owed Boon any explanation after saving his life.

When the captain took him in, Boon had thought he’d been given a second chance. Now he wasn’t certain. He’d been summoned to the rooms of John Bender, the division head of the Texas Rangers. Bender and his partner, Sam Coats, had argued over whether to send him for Laurie. The captain believed in him, knew he was the best man for the job, but Coats had been against it, claiming you couldn’t reform an outlaw any more than you could reform a rattlesnake. That comment had stuck to him like a cocklebur ever since. Hammer had said the same. He’s one of us, boys.

Two men different as fire and water and both thought they knew him. Maybe they did. Were they right? Would he always be a rattlesnake, dangerous and unpredictable?

His head sank and he breathed deep of the sweet scent of Laurie’s hair. Soap and lavender powder, he realized, on skin soft as a baby bunny.

Why had he let himself believe that this job was his chance to earn the captain’s respect? He still thought so, or he would have ridden the other way the minute he’d left the captain. That made him worse than a fool.

Behind him the gunfire changed direction. Laurie stiffened as he cocked his head.

“They’ve taken the road toward the river,” he whispered, as he had figured.

Laurie’s breathing gradually returned to normal. He stared straight down past the waterfall of dark hair that curled across her shoulder and to her substantial bosom. He blew out a breath. One look at Laurie heated his blood and made his skin tingle as if he stood naked in the pouring rain. He tried to keep his eyes on the horse’s ears as they swiveled to listen to the sounds of the night, but his mind kept throwing images of Laurie in her corset trying to button that shirt. This little gal was a temptation, the kind he’d avoided since leaving the Blue Belle.

Laurie was not what he had expected, not at all. She was all woman and a proper one at that. Her prim little coat and skirts, the upsweep of black hair that had once likely been a modest bun, and the white cotton gloves all made her seem like a lady who had been well cared for. Nothing like any woman he’d ever known.

So why had she kissed him like that?

He recalled her as he had first seen her, sitting still and watchful beside the fire, the orange flames glinting off her dark hair, giving it a red cast. She’d held her gloved hands together as if in prayer, when they were actually bound. Her stillness radiated tension and her face had pinched with worry. Her generous mouth had tipped down at the corners and her dark flashing eyes had been watchful as any cornered animal searching for escape. She’d nearly reached his horse. That showed the kind of fight she’d need if they were to get out of here. All that fit together, a brave lady captured by outlaws. What didn’t fit was that kiss. In that kiss he’d experienced what she had hidden, a raw sensuality about her that burned hotter than a blacksmith’s forge.

It didn’t fit. That kiss, her fancy duds all bustles and lace. Who was she, the captain’s woman? He was surprised at the whirlwind of anger that thought stirred.

Boon compared that first glance to the sight of her, half-dressed, lithe and winsome, standing in that cleft in the red rock struggling with the shirt he’d provided, her shoulders pale as starlight.

He wished he could look at her again, all of her this time. And he wanted to see her face in the sunlight. For now he pictured Laurie in his mind as he breathed in her scent. Her eyes were too widely set for her small oval face, he decided, too dark and too large. Both top and bottom lips were full and ripe, the top shaped like a bow and the bottom had the slightest depression at the center. He wanted to rub his thumb over that bottom lip and see her mouth open for him. Might have been a trick of the light, but her skin seemed flawless and he knew her teeth were white and straight. She was a beauty by any standard. Leave it to the Hammer to want to destroy such a woman. It made him sick.

Her face surely would be temptation enough, but Laurie had curves, full hips, a round tight backside and a full bosom, made more generous by the silly corset that pinched her middle and looked like it might break her in half like a matchstick.

He glanced back into the dark, seeing nothing but the glint of starlight on rock. With luck, Hammer’s men wouldn’t see their tracks until morning; by then they’d be over the rock and have a fighting chance of making the stage station where the captain would be waiting with his men.

Boon pushed the horse to a faster walk, increasing the distance between them and capture. Soon it would be light and they could ride like blue blazes. Until then the dark would hide them. The motion of the saddle rocked his hips into Laurie’s bottom. He winced and shifted as his body reacted to having a beautiful woman in his arms.

Surely Captain Bender had known it would, but had sent him anyway.

Should he tell Laurie that the captain had sent him, ask what she was to him? But what if he didn’t like the answer?

Fighting for her, killing for her had given him funny ideas—wrong ideas—like the notion that he had some claim over her and the feeling that he didn’t want Laurie needing anybody but him. He didn’t want to share her or give her over to a man old enough to be her father. What did Bender want with someone as young and sweet as Laurie? Boon knew Laurie was too good for the likes of him, but maybe she was too good for Bender, too. But Bender didn’t know where to find the Hammer. Only Boon knew that. And while it was true that the Rangers could easily take the outlaws’ camp, to do so would have cost Laurie her life.

Boon had gotten her out alive. Did she owe him for that? He knew that under normal circumstances she’d cross the street rather than have anything to do with someone like him. But fate had put her in his hands.

He looked at her fingers, now swathed in stained white gloves as they rested, delicate as flower petals on the saddle horn. She had high-class clothes, high-class speech and the look of someone who’d been loved and cared for her whole life.

For the course of this journey she was his. If the captain didn’t like it, he should have sent one of his goddamned perfect Texas Rangers instead of a low-down murdering outlaw.

He smiled, tightening his grip upon her waist, wishing he had cut the damned corset from her. He wanted to feel the soft, warm flesh of her stomach and ribs. She was so different than the women he had known, so fresh and so full of piss and vinegar. Not beaten down or defeated, resigned or crushed by circumstance. She’d fought them and she tried to escape, twice. This was a woman who did not lie down and take what the world handed her. This was not the sort of female to give up or turn to cocaine to numb her from life’s woes. She was not cynical or coarse or jaded. Fresh, vibrant and a real lady, just the opposite of those women in his past.

What he would give to have a woman like this.

What did it matter? She’d never accept the likes of him. Ladies knew enough to keep clear of rattlesnakes and outlaws.

He lifted a curling feathery wisp of hair from her neck and held it in his gloved fingers, then lifted it to his cheek. Soft as a satin ribbon, he decided. Laurie glanced back at him and then leaned away, trying to recapture her hair without snatching it from him. He released it, but her rejection stung. He knew how to make her want him. He’d learned a thing or two back there. She wouldn’t be able to resist him and here she was spread out before him like a banquet. Should he take a bite? If he pleased her, would she come back for more?

Boon thought about that kiss, how Laurie had melted against him right there in front of God and everyone. Nobody had ever kissed him like that, not even Paulette. He knew some women liked his looks, the ones who preferred dangerous men. But not the good ones, not the proper ones. They stayed clear of him as if he had something catching.

Still, even a bad man could please a good woman. He could make her want him without compromising her. It would show her what he had to offer and that he was every bit as knowledgeable as Bender. Maybe if she knew, maybe she’d want to stay with him.

He snorted, disgusted at himself and the turn his thoughts had taken. He wanted her. It was the first time he’d ever really wanted a woman. There were only about a million reasons why that was a bad idea. Even so, he found himself reaching for her.




Chapter Four


They rode in silence. Laurie strained her ears for the sound of pursuit but heard nothing but their horses’ hooves striking the hard-packed earth.

Boon snaked his arm about her waist again, holding her with a gentle ease she found disconcerting. Even her corset stays did not shield her from the heat and intimacy of his touch. The sensation of his warm arm, sheathed only in cotton and the leather wrist cuffs that most cowboys wore, was shocking and stimulating. To make matters worse he splayed his fingers and then drew them together absently, repeatedly, as if unaware that the tender caresses were driving her to distraction.

She straightened and wiggled in an effort to escape the intimate contact, but her movements only served to rub her bottom into the cleft of his lap. Laurie stilled at the thrill of excitement that shot through her. She heard him draw breath.

“You’re driving me crazy, Laurie-gal.”

Even his voice disturbed her, making her insides all liquid and warm. Still, she denied what was happening between them. “I’m doing no such thing.”

“You are. Ripe as a summer peach. Makes me want to take a bite.”

He nuzzled her neck as the horses walked steadily on. The sensation was the most erotic of her life. His warm lips moistened her skin and his hot breath dried it again, leaving her flesh tingling and sensitive. Boon rubbed his stubbled cheek against her downy one and hummed. The deep, low rumble vibrated through her like distant thunder. Laurie drew a sharp breath, trying to control the urge to lift her gloved hand and stroke the strong line of his jaw. She shouldn’t, couldn’t encourage him, but neither did she try to stop him. Instead she clutched the saddle horn with greater ferocity as she leaned back against him.

Boon’s lips pressed to her ear and she melted. If not for the corset she’d be puddled around him like butter left in a sunny window.

His whisper ruffled the hair curling about her cheek.

“That kiss. Can’t get it out of my head. You sure don’t kiss like a lady.”

Laurie’s head sank as she realized how quickly he had seen through her facade. Was that why he was stroking her; did he suspect the truth? It was a terror of hers, that men could tell, just by looking, what she had done.

“Laurie, why?” His words were a whispered caress, a hot demand brushing against her ear. “Why’d you do it?”

How could she answer a question like that when she knew such behavior was inexcusable?

“I don’t know.” Her voice had become a strangled thing that she hardly recognized as her own.

“Likely you don’t. But I do.”

She surrendered to the urge to touch him by laying her head against his broad shoulder and turning away from him so he could not see the hot flush of shame burning her cheeks. Laurie tried not to cry. She was all a jumble inside, wanting one thing and needing quite another. She wanted him to leave her be, wanted to tell him to stop touching her. But her body urged her to rub up against him like a cat demanding to be stroked.

He lifted his hand. When had he removed his glove? Boon trailed his fingers along the column of her neck as if she had intentionally offered the bare flesh just to him. Slowly the caresses reached her throat.

Her breasts felt achy, as if they swelled with the wanting he stirred. A mutiny, she realized, her desires commandeering her rational mind. Now instead of inching away, she pressed back, closing her eyes at the shame and the delight. What was he doing to her and why did she need it so badly?

The desire to feel his hands upon her breasts grew until she had to clamp her teeth together to keep from begging him to touch her. She’d staunched her words, but not the soft moan that rumbled in the back of her throat.

Had he heard it? He nuzzled her neck, lips dropping hot kisses on scorched skin.

Humiliation burned her as the cursed trousers rubbed against the sensitive flesh at her cleft with each rocking step of the horse. The rhythmic bob of the saddle beneath them and the feathery caress of Boon’s experienced fingers set off a whirlwind within her.

All about them the stars wheeled, but down here on the canyon floor, darkness cloaked their passing.

She whimpered, but he did not release her. Instead, he nuzzled her ear, taking her soft lobe in his mouth and sucking. She shivered with delight.

His hand remained splayed over her collarbone, maddeningly high. If only he would cup her breast with those big callused hands.

“What do you want, Laurie-gal?”

But she couldn’t say what she wanted aloud, for she didn’t know. And if she did know, she felt certain it was wicked and wrong to want it.

“Tell me,” he urged.

“No,” she whispered, shocked at the breathy quality of her voice.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling behind her like a kettle drum. “No one will know,” he whispered. “Be our secret.”

Secret, yes, just another secret.

He had woven some spell over her, made her body turn against her, until she longed for his touch, ached for it. He slid one hand down, cupping her breast, kneading the sensitive flesh and bringing her nipple to a tight throbbing bud of need. He pinched it gently between his thumb and forefinger. Oh, he was making it worse. Now she burned and the aching sensitivity increased with each wonderful, masterful touch. Deep inside her core, she felt her body quicken and then came the liquid heat where she touched the saddle. How did he know to do these things, how did he know her body better than she did?

She could not catch her breath and she felt feverish and weak. Now he had both hands upon her breasts, pressing her against his body, kissing her neck and ear. Each time his lips touched hers, he sent shivering tremors through her, like tiny earthquakes. Her head fell back against his chest and she lifted her chin offering her lips, longing to feel his kiss once more.

His mouth moved over hers, their kiss deep and long. Laurie trembled as his hands snaked down over her twitching belly and to the rivet that held her jeans. Though the fit was tight on her hips, the waist gaped and he had no trouble releasing the rivets. His fingers delved into her thick curls, burrowing deeper, closer to her most private places. She shifted in a poor effort to evade his touch but only succeeded in helping him reach his goal. He found her cleft, sliding his fingers over her slippery flesh. She gasped in shock and need. This was wrong. She knew it, yet she said nothing to stop him. But this time, she wanted the touch, craved it.

“Lean back … that’s it. Let me touch you.”

She did as he bid her, rolling her hips so he could stroke her needy nub of flesh, and was rewarded instantly with a curling, building tension which began where he caressed her and crept outward. Her body flexed as she rocked against his stroking fingers, beginning a slow rolling rhythm.

“That’s it. Nice and slow.”

Something was happening. She couldn’t move slowly any longer. The urge to thrust overcame her and she began to rock her hips in a way that was new, yet familiar. She climbed toward a new goal as her body moved in ways she did not recognize. She lifted her arms and locked them about his neck, pulling, arching. His mouth moved to the shell of her ear.

She couldn’t get enough air and feared she might faint. What was happening to her? With a suddenness that shocked her, the tension, which had built with each slow rocking motion of the man’s hands and the saddle, released in a tumbling waterfall of pleasure, flowing outward from his masterful fingers, rippling in all directions with a force that caused her to arch as if he had stabbed her in the back. She tried to scream, but his mouth covered hers, silencing her cry as she clung, wrapping her arms around his neck, allowing his tongue to plunder her mouth.

The waves of pleasure receded, replaced by a lethargy. Laurie’s arms slipped from about his neck and she collapsed against him. Gradually she came back to herself. She lay quivering, enfolded in his strong arms, his chin now resting familiar upon the top of her head.

Laurie blinked, becoming aware by slow degrees. What in the world was that?

She looked about.

They still rode slowly along, the horse picking his way in near silence. Their pursuers had vanished in the shroud of darkness. And Boon still hugged her close, as if she belonged to him, one arm about her waist and the other cupping her at the juncture of her thighs in some vulgar mockery of an embrace. Laurie glanced at herself, seeing his dark hand thrust lewdly down her open trousers. When had he unbuttoned her shirt? How had he managed to get the shirt open and her camisole unlaced?

She’d acted just like a prostitute, taking her pleasure, rubbing up against him like a mare in heat. She lifted her hands to cover her burning eyes. It didn’t help. She still wanted to cry.

“Feeling better?” he asked, as if it were perfectly natural to ride with her blouse open and his hand down her pants.

She gave a little cry of dismay.

“Laurie?” His voice now held caution.

She writhed, nearly falling from the horse.

He withdrew his hand and grasped her, hauling her back before himself. “What are you doing?”

“How could I allow you?” she whispered, pressing her hands to cover her eyes.

“Just natural, I guess.”

She did not know how to respond to such an answer. She was mortified. He was a complete stranger, yet she had not made the slightest effort to prevent him from touching her. The terrible truth was that she had welcomed it.

“Laurie?” His voice had lost the easy confidence of a moment ago as uncertainty crept in.

If she could have sunk to the canyon floor and died she surely would have. Had they not been on horseback, she was certain that he would have taken her, just as she deserved, on the ground, like an animal.

As she fumbled with her camisole and fastened the rivets of the hated trousers, the tears came.

“You’ve shamed me.” Her head hung as she tugged at the shirt, still unable to completely button it.

“Shamed?”

How dare he sound surprised? She wanted to slap him; instead she dashed away the tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I just tried to, well, I thought you wanted to.”

Laurie held both hands over her mouth, feeling dizzy and sick.

“I don’t understand this.” Her voice had that high wavering quality that told her she was perilously close to sobbing.

“Just trying to bring you ease.”

The casualness of his reply shocked her speechless.

“Thought it might take your mind off your troubles for a little while.”

“No! You’ve only added to them. Oh,” she cried, “but I didn’t even try to stop you.”

“You’re human.”

“My display was disgraceful!”

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She paused trying to decide if he was mocking her but could not tell.

“Women got needs, too, you know.”

“Needs? No. A lady most certainly does not have needs.”

He gave a snort. “Well, you could be right about that, ‘cause I never been with a lady before.” He leaned close and nibbled the shell of her ear. “But I like it.”

She slapped at him. “Stop that. Don’t touch me.”

“That’d be some trick, riding double. Guess I’ll touch you if I like.”

Laurie hung her head. She was a fraud and a fake, just as she’d feared. She wasn’t fit for decent society. No wonder she’d failed to attract a decent man. How could she convince a respectable gentleman that she would make him a proper wife if she allowed herself to be treated in such a low manner?

Sweet lord, even an outlaw could tell the difference. She was no lady. Had not been since … No, she would not think on that. Only two people on earth knew and she’d never tell. She had spent the past years trying to pretend that episode had never happened. Did her father know? Was that why he had left them?

All this time she had tried so hard to convince herself that her troubles were behind her and that, if she could only convince her parents to reconcile, if they would end this separation and remarry, then she could set aside the stigma of divorce. She’d nearly convinced herself that it was their actions, not hers, that kept her from a decent match. But in her heart she knew the truth. No decent man would have her because she was ruined.

The trouble was not her parents’ divorce, but the flaw that she could not hide. What if every man who looked at her could already tell what had happened to her?

Laurie felt cold that cut bone deep as she admitted to herself that the problem all along had been herself. She wouldn’t let a man near her and that was a fact.

She closed her eyes and prayed. Please, God, forgive me my trespasses. Don’t let me fall for an outlaw and live a wicked life. Please let me wake up and find this is all just a nightmare.

Hot tears splashed down her cheeks.

Nothing had changed and somehow this outlaw had seen right through her and into her wanton heart. The past four years had been nothing but a lie.

Laurie opened her eyes and noticed the ghostly pale landscape, made visible by the slip of a moon, nearly in its quarter, rising silver above the canyon rim. She could no longer see the stars. Laurie stiffened at the significance. If she could see about them, the outlaws could, as well.

“Can you sit a horse solo?” he asked.

“Ladies don’t ride astride.” She scrubbed her hands over her face, wiping away the tears with the grit.

The truth was her father had taught her when she was a girl. She had loved the freedom of galloping over the countryside. But that was before she understood how unseemly such behavior was. Ladies did not ride; they sat in carriages. But riding meant escape from Hammer and it meant distance from Boon. She needed that more than she needed to protect her crumpled dignity. Besides, he’d already discovered what kind of a woman she really was.

“Is that a no?”

She shook her head, sending her lopsided bun further into decline.

Boon reined in. He dismounted then clasped her waist and pulled her down, his big hands sliding under her shirt and against the barrier of her corset. He set her on her feet but did not let go.

“You know better than to try and run?”

She kept her head lowered, unable to bear meeting his eyes after what they had done together. But she could not control the trembling and he noted it.

“Laurie?” His voice held a new caution.

He clasped her chin in his hand and lifted. She kept her eyes downcast, as another tear rolled down her face.

His voice filled with incredulity. “You crying?”

“No.”

“Because of what we done?”

“No, I said!” Laurie pressed her lips together and glared, daring him to call her a liar, even with the evidence right there on her cheek.

He released her, stepping back and resting his hands on his hips just above his guns. She wondered what he had expected her to do, thank him?

Suddenly the shame boiled up, like scalding milk topping the pot and pouring over the sides. She seethed with fury, not for his touching her but for his so easily discovering that he could touch her.

“How did you know?” she demanded, her words as hot as her tears.

He tucked his chin and looked uneasy. “What?”

“How could you tell just by looking?” Her words were a shouted whisper, hoarse and feral.

He shifted and stepped back as if preparing to run from the madwoman.

“Tell what?”

“Somehow you saw through me, Boon. I want to know just what I said or did that told you I’m not the lady I appear to be. Was it the kiss?”

He nodded, his brow tented and ears pinned back now, like a dog trying to comprehend.

“Nobody ever kissed me like that,” he admitted. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done what I done, but I didn’t know …” His words fell off.

“Didn’t know what? That I wouldn’t stop you?” Laurie gripped her hair at each side of her head, trying to keep from screaming. No wonder she couldn’t find a husband. It wasn’t her mother’s divorce, it was her. It was obvious to any man that she wasn’t a lady.

“I was going to say that I didn’t know no other way to comfort you. I ain’t been around ladies much, or at all, really.”

“Well, let me edify you, then. That is not the way you comfort a lady!” she shouted, further proving she was incapable of civil behavior. Laurie whirled away, took three steps and then covered her face with her dirty gloves and sobbed.

He didn’t approach her or try to comfort her. Finally when her sobs had turned into a racking, shuddering breath, he spoke, his voice low.

“Laurie, I’m sorry for what I done. I never meant to grieve you. But we gotta ride or Hammer will catch us.”

She turned to face him, her eyes burning and her chin trembling.

“If you can’t sit a saddle, we can ride double, but we gotta switch horses.”

She glared at him for forcing her to admit yet another shortcoming.

“I can ride astride.”

He pushed back the brim of his hat to stare at her, his face silvery in the moonlight. She wondered what he could see of her.

“I can!” she insisted. “And I can shoot and rope and tell the direction just by moonlight. North.” She pointed her gloved hand.

His brows rose as he considered her a moment. “All right then.”

He offered his hands as a mounting block. She stalked over to him.

“Give me your kerchief.” She held out her hand, demanding it.

He narrowed his eyes and then did as she asked, untying the wide strip of pale fabric.

She tied it about her neck and then tucked it into her camisole as if it were a lace collar. Having removed the sight of her décolletage from his sight, she buttoned up the shirt as best she could and tugged it straight.

“Ready?” he asked, offering his clasped hands again.

She refused his offered help, lifted a foot to the stirrup and swung into the saddle, then stared down her nose at him.

Boon reset his hat and stared a moment longer, then stalked away.

Laurie lifted the reins and remembered all her father had taught her. Why was it easier to remember than to forget?

Boon returned a moment later with a lead line that he fastened between her horse’s bridle and the rear rigging dee of his saddle. Clearly he did not believe she could ride or did not trust her to ride in the same direction as he did.

Did he think she’d run?

Once mounted, he twisted in the saddle to look back at her. “Don’t fall off. If you feel sleepy give a holler. We’ll be riding faster as the light comes up. With luck we’ll find another way out of these canyons.”

He didn’t have an escape route planned? Laurie felt the anxiety prickling in her belly like a stalk of nettles. She glanced back at the way they had come and could see their horses’ tracks in the sand. The shroud of darkness was dissolving like mist, retreating against the rising moon, and the outlaws were back there, coming for them.

Her father had hanged George Hammer’s little brother. That meant Hammer wouldn’t stop until he caught them.

Did Boon know who her father was?

Was he rescuing her, or perhaps her father had offered some bounty and he was trying to collect the ransom himself. She hoped he hadn’t taken her with something else in mind.

Laurie wondered if knowing that her father was John Bender, the Indian fighter and renowned Texas Ranger, would help her or hurt her. Boon was an outlaw. He might not want to save the daughter of a man sworn to hunt him down and kill him.

Laurie decided to keep silent until she knew more about this man and his intentions. Until then she’d look for a chance to escape.

“Hold on,” Boon called and then kicked them to a gallop.

Laurie gritted her teeth and lifted the reins. If they managed to escape, would her father even want her back?




Chapter Five


They’d ridden through the night past the silvery tufts of sage grass and squatty juniper that somehow survived growing in nothing but dry gravel. Boon followed the channel that had cut this canyon, up a wide dry wash that could fill in a moment with runoff from a storm upstream. When they veered off the main channel, he hoped he’d chosen wisely and that this finger would bring them back to the surface without having to abandon their horses. Boon had stopped only to brush away their tracks back as far as the last draw. Hammer knew this territory, but the steady wind eroded their tracks and only the fading quarter moon marked their passing, allowing them greater speed.

He glanced back at Laurie, motionless, her chin on her chest and her posture defeated. She’d stopped her sniffling, but her tears still tore into him worse than cat-claw thorns.

If there was any doubt in anyone’s mind about his suitability as a Texas Ranger, Boon’s actions had settled the matter. What he’d read as Laurie’s consent turned out to be only her inexperience. What he’d thought was a gift, a way to distract and comfort, ended up being neither. Paulette had told him this was what all women wanted. But then why did it make Laurie cry? She’d seemed to enjoy it at the time and it sickened him to think that he had taken advantage of her, when he’d only meant to give her pleasure.

Paulette, a new arrival to the Blue Belle, had taught him that this was how you gave a woman her release and that there was no danger of unwanted children this way. Then why was Laurie so grieved?

The truth settled heavy in his chest.

He’d taken advantage of a woman in his care, something he knew a Ranger would never do. He was no better than the animals on their trail, just another brutal outlaw who used women for sport. He thought of his mother and his shoulders sank another inch.

He glanced toward the sky again, certain this time that the stars had begun to vanish. Dawn was coming and with it the desert heat. Something rustled in the brush. Likely a porcupine or armadillo, he thought, continuing on. The cry from behind him brought him about in his saddle. Laurie gripped the saddle horn with both hands and was hauling herself back into the saddle seat.

He turned his mount.

“I fell asleep,” she admitted.

Boon nodded, reaching for her.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled her from the saddle and settled her in front of him.

“I’m awake now. No need to trouble yourself.”

“If you fall, you might bust something. You rest a bit.”

She wiggled her hips to settle before him and he gritted his teeth against the physical reaction of his body to hers. He’d not touch her again, he vowed. Laurie stilled, suddenly motionless as a rabbit before a fox.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

His first thought was Mexico, but he knew he couldn’t just ride off with her. That would be wrong. Then why did his mind fix on the notion like a feather caught in tar?

He wrapped one arm about her waist and nudged the horse to a fast walk.

“I’m bringing you home, Laurie.”

“You are?” Her voice echoed with astonishment. Could she not even conceive of someone like him doing the decent thing?

“That’s right.”

“To my father?”

He didn’t know her father or his connection to the captain.

“I suppose. I’m here on orders from the Texas Rangers under Captain John Bender. You heard of him?” He puffed up a little when he said it, proud to be associated with Bender, even if the association was only temporary. He wondered again if he could make it permanent. Maybe the captain would see, when he brought Laurie home safe, that he’d be a welcome addition to Bender’s division.

Laurie turned and stared up at him, her expression confused.

She clarified. “Captain John Bender, famous lawman, legendary Indian fighter, that John Bender?”

“The same.”

Boon lifted his chin a notch, hoping she was impressed.

“He sent you?”

Uncertainty flickered down low in his belly, but he nodded.

“I just said so.” Had she heard of him or not?

“That John Bender is my father.”

Boon swayed, and had it not been for the saddle cantle behind him he’d have likely dropped over backward. He felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach, would have preferred it in fact. She still stared at him, half-turned in the saddle, one brow lifted in speculation.

“You didn’t know,” she said.

He shook his head in answer as the truth descended upon him like a cloud of locusts from a blue sky. She wasn’t Bender’s woman. This was his child and Boon had done things to Laurie to which a father would surely take offense. He’d made the captain’s daughter cry.

Boon’s little dream of joining the Rangers burst like a soap bubble in the sun, lost forever.

He’d never join that division of elite fighters, earn the respect of the captain or be anything other than what he was. Reality blinded him. Coats was right. Once a snake, always a snake.

If he was smart he’d drop her at the stage station and head in the opposite direction as fast as he could ride. If he were lucky he might make Mexico before the Rangers ran him to ground. Boon pulled to a halt and dismounted, dropping the reins and walking away from the horses. His stride was quick at first then slowed until he stood with both hands laced behind his neck, his elbows stretched wide as he looked to the heavens.

The captain’s words came back to him. I don’t care. I want her back.

His partner had told Bender it was a mistake. Now Boon understood what it was—it was him. He was the mistake. The captain hadn’t sent him because he was the best man for the job or even his first choice. Boon was his only choice and he hadn’t expected that the outlaw would treat his daughter honorably or he would have told him who Laurie was. Instead, the captain had kept it secret. Boon replayed the conversation he’d overheard in his mind. It all made sense now. Bender wanted his daughter back so badly he had been willing to do anything, even allow a known outlaw to defile his little girl. The captain loved Laurie enough to let it happen just to get her back alive.

The realization hit him right in the gut. Bender didn’t trust him. He’d sent Boon because he’d had no other choice.

Boon folded at the middle as his empty stomach pitched.

Bands of pink and orange light reached across the eastern sky. Morning had found them, still in the box canyon.

Laurie watched her rescuer with cautious eyes. Boon looked like a prisoner giving himself up and now he looked as if he were going to be sick.

His horse did not know what to make of this abandonment and so the chestnut gelding glanced toward Laurie, showing her the small white stripe down his face, and then took a few steps in Boon’s direction, snorting loudly. This caused Laurie’s bay to prick its ears, regarding the man who stood with his back to them all.

He did not turn, but remained still as the stone walls while the first rays of light painted the canyon rim a brilliant red.

Laurie felt as wrung out as damp laundry from her ordeal, and now this man, her rescuer, had made her feel things she did not know were possible. Surely what they had done must be sinful and wrong. It hurt to know that he had seen through her like glass. Had her fancy dresses and proper bonnets only made her a joke to everyone back in Fort Worth?

Boon seemed befuddled that she was the daughter of John Bender. His reaction worried her. Now that he knew, would he leave her?

“Boon?” she said, trying to keep the fear from creeping into her voice.

She untied the rope joining their horses and then glanced back to Boon.

He removed his gray felt hat and threw it with great force toward the ground. When it landed before him, he kicked it. His hair was not brown, she could see now in the breaking dawn that his highlights were very definitely a honey-blond and shaggy.

As she watched, his shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He retrieved his hat and dusted it off before returning it to his head.

He spun on her, turning like a gunslinger about to draw, but all he aimed at her was his cold stare.

“Your father?” he asked, the incredulity of his voice now settling to dismay.

She nodded.

“You’d think he would have mentioned that.” Boon returned to collect the reins of the gelding. “Might as well get you down. Have to switch horses anyway.”

His hands splayed her waist, lifting her up naturally as if she belonged to him. He held her easily, controlling her descent until she stood before him, gazing up into his troubled eyes, a clear cobalt-blue, she realized. His hair curled playfully at his neck beneath that wide-brimmed hat. The stiffness of her muscles, the bone weariness and the worry all dissolved like a shallow puddle in the summer sun as he held her with his gaze.

She felt a zap of energy. A little pop of attraction, one to the other. It was happening again, that need to move closer, to lift her hand to touch his face. Laurie could not look away.

He stared down at her, hands still holding her waist. His expression troubled.

“I’d have done differently had I known,” he whispered.

“Because you’re afraid of my father.” It wasn’t a question. Most men were afraid of John Bender, and Boon had more cause than many. Hammer said he was one of his gang, but Boon said he was sent by her father. What was the truth?

He shook his head in slow deliberation. “Because I respect him. Would have liked to earn his respect, as well. Now …” He shrugged hopelessly.

Laurie wanted to tell him that it would be easier to sprout wings and fly than earn her father’s respect. Hadn’t she tried and failed her entire adult life? As soon as she put away her britches, he had drifted away. What was it about John Bender that garnered the instant esteem of one and all? And why did he take such devotion completely for granted?

“I promised I’d bring you to him and I aim to do just that or die trying.”

Die … yes, Laurie realized, that was still a very real possibility. He had double-crossed a dangerous outlaw and that would make him a marked man. George Hammer would never forgive such a betrayal.

“What if they catch us?” she asked.

He regarded her with a long silent stare. “I’ll do all I can to protect you.”

“Don’t let them capture me again.”

His dark brows lifted in an unspoken question and she held his gaze. His expression told her he understood what she asked. Boon nodded his acceptance of this new burden, shouldering it with the rest.

“You promise?” she asked.

“They won’t take you alive.”

A flicker of relief danced inside her with the gratitude. “Thank you.”

His piercing blue eyes pinned her as his gaze traveled over her face.

“You got a shiner,” he said, lifting a finger to gently brush her left cheek.

Laurie absorbed the tingle of awareness caused by the feathery touch. She clasped a hand over the bruise that Hammer had given her, noting that her cheek felt puffy beneath her fingertips.




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