The last thing she wanted was to make her first public appearance in a crowd looking this side of insane. It was embarrassing enough that Bear had seen her this way. Visiting the diner was out of the question. “Mind if I just wait out here?”
She explained that she wanted to put her best foot forward, so to speak. Even though she hadn’t, in fact.
“No problem.” Bear glanced up at the overhanging clouds and started backing up. “I’ve got to get that mail in and sorted before it gets wet. Feel free to take shelter inside the livery. I always keep a couple of fresh blankets on the shelf, if ya get chilled. There’s a lantern or a stove, if you need it. Like I said, I’ll let the ladies know you’re here if they don’t spot ya right off.”
“I appreciate it, and I hope I get to meet Mrs. Bear when she’s...” Willow could tell he was eager to be about his business. She’d learned that people tended to back up from her when she kept prattling and they really wanted to be on their way.
The driver said something to the smithy and Bear took the opportunity to dash away to grab the mailbags.
Maybe she ought to make a list of all the don’t-dos she needed to remember. One: don’t get too chatty, she chastised herself, even if the Texan is chatty himself. She’d always been told Texans were known to be the strong silent types. She’d have to revise that old belief. They liked their women less talkative than themselves.
Her eyes focused on the town again, and she thought it might be best to take this time to familiarize herself with what she remembered about High Plains. She didn’t want to leave the livery yard. That way her sisters could easily spot her, and she preferred not to be by herself in the livery. She hated being alone. At least out here, she could watch people milling around.
It was then she saw him.
A dark-haired stranger standing in the alley between the boarding house and the mercantile, leaning against one of the outer walls. Tall and lean, he wore a long black duster that hung to the top of his spurs, and his boots stretched clear to his knees. The duster was pulled back over a pistol-filled holster that rode low on his right thigh. His right hand remained gloveless, making anyone aware he was proficient at shooting from that side. Her gaze swept past his broad chest, and she noted he favored a scruff of a beard and mustache. A hat shaded his eyes. Though she couldn’t determine their color, the force of their intensity touched her even this far away as she sensed him staring at her.
A chill of recognition ran up her spine, yet she’d never met the man. A handsome stranger who’d suddenly stepped out of her imagination? A hero? A villain?
Whoever he was, he looked exactly as she’d pictured Will Ketchum in her mind. Like the kind of man who would have ridden with her grandfather in his days of ranging. Her fictional character had sprung to life as a flesh-and-blood man right in front of her.
Would he talk like Ketchum?
If the stranger proved to be on the right side of the law, he just might be an answer to her prayer.
She started pacing, wondering how she could gain a proper introduction to him. Maybe she needed to practice saying “howdy” a little better.
* * *
The stage had come and gone. Still, the slender reddish-blond-haired woman remained in front of the livery talking to herself. Gage Newcomb thumbed up his hat brim and admired her persistence, if nothing else. How long would she wait for whoever was supposed to have met her there?
He’d made it his business to check out and make himself familiar with every new male or female who landed in High Plains these past few weeks, learning early on that Stanton Hodge knew no remorse in enlisting anyone to help him escape the long arm of justice. Lady, gent or fresh-out-of-short-britches lad could be party to Hodge’s plans, so it wouldn’t surprise Gage at all if this shapely newcomer had come to town to lend the outlaw aid.
But Hodge hadn’t shown yet. Maybe the sidewinder was waiting for the weather to blow over.
Wherever the elusive horse thief might be holed up at this point, Gage meant to find him and turn him in or die trying. After that, he’d ride off into the Davis Mountains downstate and live his life alone, far away from so-called civilization. Far away from pity. Far enough to make sure he became a burden to no one.
That was the only way he could deal with accepting a future he’d wish on no soul.
He had tracked his longtime adversary here, ready to put an end to their six-month cat-and-mouse game before he gave his notice that this was his last manhunt as a Texas Ranger. He’d always brought in his man before. He didn’t plan to fail his captain this time either.
Hodge had managed to stay out of sight so far. Gage suspected the viper was playing it slippery until things settled down from the recent bank robbery and town-burning attempt that were so fresh in everybody’s mind here in High Plains. The thief probably wished he’d headed some other direction when he found out about the recent crime spree. Hodge liked rattling about his feats and the wait to pull his next theft must have been eating at his ego.
That was the one thing Gage could count on. Lack of bragging rights would lure Hodge from his snake den to make a quick strike before things got too dull. Gage knew that was when he’d catch him off guard. The outlaw had been curled up and cozy too long now. Gage sensed the man would be getting anxious, and the woman pacing across the street might just be the pretty twist of petticoat Hodge would use to carry out his next crime.
He sure hoped not, but she wouldn’t be the first woman he’d had to lock up.
As a man who saw the world as dark and the people in it as ready to do whatever they could to get away with something, Gage rarely gave the benefit of the doubt. He’d learned the hard way that a woman could be just as nefarious as any man.
But a man was his focus now. Gage rubbed the scars beneath and around his eyes, feeling the raised flesh and vowing vengeance once more upon the man whose actions were forcing him to choose a new way of life for himself. Being a Ranger was everything to Gage. If he lost that, he would be nothing. His failing eyesight would take his soul, his heart, his whole life. If a man looked weak, he’d forever bow down to others. Gage couldn’t bear the thought of losing his whole identity.
Stanton Hodge had stolen something far more precious than the horses Gage was tracking him for.
He pushed aside his self-pity, and despite the clouded day and the threat of rain echoing in the thunder that rumbled above, he squinted hard to define this new arrival’s approximate age.
Long years of riding saddle all over Texas made distances seem farther than they appeared, but she couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty feet from where he stood. Still, he couldn’t quite catch the color of her eyes or whether she had freckles. All he noted was that she was in her late teens or early twenties, and she had stealth to her walk, which revealed a long stretch of legs and decent health.
Maybe she would prove the break he was looking for in the case. Hodge often chose a young, impressionable gal able to travel fast.
Gage decided he’d watch her, find out her identity and make sure she was not sister, sweetheart or any other connection whatsoever to the man he would bring to justice.
The wind got up again, wailing through the alley and buffeting him hard enough that he had to rock back and forth on his spurs to catch his balance. A quick glance at the pretty lady revealed she fought the gale, as well, swatting down her billowing skirt.
A loud crack of thunder echoed across the sky. Then within seconds, large pellets of rain splattered the ground, leaving rows of golden eagle–sized dots. Grayish-yellow clouds dipped so low he could almost touch them, signaling their weight would not be contained any longer. High Plains was about to receive an onslaught of hard, pounding rain that would become a gully washer by the time it ended. Best to seek shelter until the Texas sky finished its tantrum.
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