Give Me A Texas Ranger (31 page)

Word spread quickly. From the bordellos along Utah Street to the wooden barracks housing the soldiers out at Fort Bliss, word was carried by men in serapes and sombreros, businessmen in derbies and suits, journalists with ink-stained fingers—all spread the news that Peter Maher was ready to fight and sporting a new pair of gloves he was ready to break in. The fight was on.

The steady stream of people who had grown tired of waiting for it to happen and had pulled up stakes came to a sudden halt, just as Bob Fitzsimmons had predicted the night before. Fight fans filled the depot to the brim all afternoon, in anticipation of the promoter’s next move.

Thomas spent the entire day searching for Dannell O’Grady, but the man was nowhere to be found. Thomas had checked back at the saddle shop twice and Laney had not returned, so he knew his concern for her safety was real. She would have insisted upon seeing Maher by now if she’d been able to.

The streets were full of people, so spotting her among the crowd proved almost impossible. The boxers were holding court at the Lindell Hotel, where the press corps milled around a display that showcased the pen the president had used to sign the anti-prize bill into effect. She would have attempted to meet with Maher there, if not at her shop.

Thomas’s mood was foul, his temper edgy at best. The Ranger’s earlier surveillance of O’Grady revealed that the man had broken his usual schedule and not appeared anywhere Thomas had expected to find him. Deep in his gut Thomas knew that Laney’s brother-in-law had knowledge of her whereabouts. Everything inside him said that if he could just get his hands on the man, he would find Laney.

Not knowing where else to look, Thomas decided to check the Vendome Hotel one more time. It was almost five. The clerk said Dannell usually checked in for his mail before going up to change into evening attire. Hopefully, the man’s penchant for looking dapper would provide just the stroke of luck Thomas needed at the moment.

His frustration mounted as it took precious minutes to work his way through the crowd and into the hotel. Stopping at the lobby desk, he glanced at the mail slot for O’Grady’s room and noticed it was empty. A good sign, he hoped.

“Has Dannell O’Grady checked in?”

The clerk seemed evasive, shaking his head but avoiding Thomas’s direct gaze. “N—no, sir. I don’t believe he has. Would you care to leave a message?”

“I’ll take the message to him myself.” Thomas didn’t wait for the elevator to return to the lobby and instead took the stairs leading to the upper floor.

“But wait, sir. You can’t—”

“I’m tired of waiting.” Thomas didn’t care who heard him. Let anyone get in his way and they’d see just how tired he was of feeling so helpless. Doing something was all he knew, and right now that meant finding where the hell O’Grady was.

When he finally reached O’Grady’s room, he stopped and pressed an ear against the wooden door panel, listening for sounds of someone inside. At first, he heard only the ticking of a clock at the end of the hallway.

A phone rang. A voice whispering. The slightest swish of something sliding open. A window? The clerk had warned O’Grady!

Instinct and anger propelled Thomas to rear back and kick the man’s door in. A splintering of wood ripped the door from its hinges and sent it crashing to the floor. A woman screamed somewhere down the hall as Thomas barreled into the room and rushed to the window just in time to catch the culprit by his collar. “You’re not going anywhere, you son of a cur.” Thomas jerked O’Grady backward into the room, preventing his escape.

Dannell landed on his back, curling into a fetal position, blocking his face with both hands and whining, “Don’t hit me. I’m a cripple. Please, don’t hit me.”

“Get up,” Thomas ordered, looking down at the pathetic excuse for a man. Five long pink scratches furrowed his left cheek and huge hunks of his hair were missing in spots that had not been bald when he first met the man. O’Grady looked like he’d tangled with a wildcat. Laney? He’d fought with Laney?

Rage filled Thomas so completely that he grabbed the blackguard by his fancy lapels and jerked him to his feet. He wanted to knock his teeth down his throat, but he resisted the urge, knowing it would just delay the man’s ability to tell him what he needed to know. “Tell me what you’ve done with her,” Thomas demanded, locking eyes with Dannell, “and you better hope to God that when I find her she doesn’t have a scratch on her or I swear you are a dead man.”

“She’s fine. Perfectly fine,” Dannell insisted, his eyelashes batting, a sure sign to Thomas that the man couldn’t look him straight in the eye and was lying about something. “I’ll tell you where she is, just let me go. Don’t hit me, please.”

Thomas couldn’t stomach the sight of the man and wanted nothing more than to lay him out unconscious for days, but if he beat him senseless now he’d never get the truth out of him. He had to get to Laney. See how hurt she was. From the looks of Dannell, she put up a pretty good fight.

Thomas slowly uncurled his fists but remained close enough so the weasel of a man wouldn’t run. “Why didn’t you leave through the front door? You heard I was looking for you. I left enough messages all over town.”

“I—I thought you’d be upset because I
do
know where she went, and she told me not to tell you.”

Laney would never confide in the man. Of that Thomas had no doubt, but he’d play O’Grady’s game. “Why’d she tell
you?
”

“She thought you’d think she was guilty of what you suspected all along about her.” Dannell began to straighten his collar and tidy his suit, taking Thomas’s easier tone as less reason to fear. “She really didn’t know where the fight would be held until just this morning, I swear.”

The man should have been more afraid. When Thomas got quiet, he was far more deadly. “So where’s she gone that she doesn’t want me to know?”

“She’s in one of the cars headed for Langtry. It’s a little depot about 389 miles from here. Judge Roy Bean’s jurisdiction.”

“Why would she get on the train?”
Why before the gloves were finished?
Thomas wondered.

“That’s where the fight’s taking place tonight. Maher was supposed to pick up the gloves at her shop and take them with him. She and the boxer are going to meet up in Langtry to finish them. Maher wanted her on the train before he got on to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd. With everybody vying for seats, there wasn’t any guarantee she could get one.”

Thomas thought through this morning’s scene with Maher at the shop. He hadn’t seemed all that displeased that the gloves had one more symbol to go. Had that all been a ruse because the boxer had known he was meeting up with Laney anyway? Had he agreed to show the gloves around town just to keep Thomas offtrack and unaware of their scheme? His gut instinct told him that Dannell was lying, but finding Laney might depend on something the man revealed in the lie.

“How did she find out which car to get on?”

“Dan Stuart’s keeping close tabs with the telegrapher and the telegrapher owes me money. He told me and I told her which one.”

Thomas put all the facts together and something still didn’t quite fit. There was still the issue of the scratches on the weasel’s face and his missing clumps of hair. “How’d you get so scraped up? Fall out a few windows today?”

Dannell shook his head. “I got in the way of Nero’s and Fitz’s punching bag. His cat thought I was the bag.”

The man did seem to travel with Fitzsimmons’s entourage. He was capable of such a foolhardy act. One last question would tell Thomas all he really needed to know. “Did Laney leave her shop willingly this morning?”

Thomas could read a lie in a man’s tone, in the look he gave him, in the way he held his body.

“Willing and adamant about going,” Dannell answered.

O’Grady wasn’t lying, but neither was he telling the complete truth. “You’re coming with me,” Thomas ordered, handing the man his cane and pushing him toward the gaping wound that was once a doorway. “Watch your step. You’re going to need a new door.”

“Where are we going?” Dannell asked, making his way precariously over the wooden panel.

“To a boxing match.”

Dannell O’Grady had not lied about one thing. It seemed everyone in town now knew that the fight was taking place tonight and that the train fare for a round trip would be twelve dollars. It was as if a gun had been fired to start the race to Langtry. Everyone and their considerable kin seemed to have bought tickets and now stood in droves on the platform, waiting to board. The Rangers had their hands full just trying to stop the countless pickpockets from relieving travelers of their wallets while they waited.

With the rush of passengers, Thomas had four Pullmans, two tourist sleepers, a dining car, and several day coaches to search for signs of Laney in. He could only hope that she had not taken a seat on an earlier train carrying the fight and film paraphernalia to the site. If so, she was already in Langtry.

Thomas had left Dannell with Ted Sawyer in the car that had originally been furnished for the Rangers to ride free by Dan Stuart himself. He told Sawyer not to let Dannell out of his sight and to make sure the man didn’t get off the train. If he tried, then Sawyer should wound him enough to stop his flight. Though he had not been tied up, Dannell had seemed respectably subdued and compliant.

Thomas checked the day coaches first. Laney was nowhere to be found. Next on the list was Maher’s tourist sleeping car. Each boxer had been assigned one of the two sleeping quarters so they could ride in comfort and be rested before the fight. It made sense that his car would be the most likely place for her to make the trip. He wanted to be done with the search of the two sleeping cars while the boxers were granting interviews in the dining car with several reporters and dignitaries.

Thomas hoped he was wrong about where he might find her. Though it was 1896, an unmarried lady spending time alone with a gentleman in his private quarters still wasn’t considered proper conduct. Not that Thomas gave a damn what anyone else thought, but Laney was trying to gain custody of that boy. She hadn’t thought this all through clearly enough. If she meant to impress Judge Townsend, Thomas hoped Townsend didn’t catch wind of this possible mistake in her judgment. He had to find her and get her out of Maher’s car before anyone discovered she was there.

You just want her to be your lady,
his heart whispered, realizing he cared more than he wanted to admit.
You don’t want her spending time with Maher. You don’t want her to be in on any part of this fight game with him and the others. You love her, you want her, and you won’t be happy until she’s yours.

“Where are you?” he whispered as he opened the door to Maher’s car, his frustration growing by the moment. Whatever Laney’s role in this, whatever her reasons, he just needed to have a look at her and reassure himself that she was okay. That Dannell O’Grady hadn’t lied to him about how he got those wounds.

He half expected to find one of Maher’s men there to bar the way, but Thomas found no one to prevent him from entering. A quick inspection of the sleeping parlor and the water closet that provided a bathing tub and space to hang his fight gear gave no sign of Laney’s having been there. With both relief and disappointment, Thomas moved on to Bob Fitzsimmons’s car.

When he opened the door, he was met with a loud, disgruntled roar.

Nero!
He’d forgotten the lion, and that Fitzsimmons traveled nowhere without his sparring partner. Thomas froze in the doorway, not daring to move. His heart beat thunderclaps in his throat. He waited to be tackled by a crushing force or shredded by massive claws. Nothing happened.

“Laney,” he dared. “Are you in there?”

“M—momas?” a voice came, weak, unsure, muffled.

A thousand lions could not have kept him from her. Thomas barreled past the door, prepared to tackle the African beast. But the animal was caged in a corner and none too happy that he couldn’t wrestle this new trespasser arriving in his master’s quarters. He roared again, sounding his discontent. Next to the cage, with her hands tied behind her back and her mouth gagged, lay Laney. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. Her face was a mass of bruises, her clothing torn.

Thomas swore vengeance on Dannell, rushing to Laney and pulling a knife from his boot to cut the cord from around her hands. She reached up to pull at the gag, but he gently pushed her hands away. “I’ll get it, love,” he said gently. “Just be still a minute more.”

She sat up, her hands rushing to encircle his waist and her face pressing into his chest. As he hurried to unknot her gag, Thomas could feel the dampness of her cheeks and realized she’d been crying or frightened. Rage deeper than the Rio Grande roared through his veins as surely as if it had taken Nero’s voice. Dannell O’Grady had sealed his fate.

“Laney, Laney,” Thomas whispered, trying to find some reasonable thought to anchor him. “You’ll be all right. I won’t let him get away with this. I’ll kill the—”

“No,” Laney sobbed as the gag came off. She clutched Thomas tighter. “He only slapped me around and I gave as much as I got. He’s not worth the effort. Just stay with me, Thomas. Hold me. Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t, Laney,” he whispered, willing everything within him to calm down enough to keep his word. “I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

“Forever, love.” Laney pulled his head down to offer her lips to him. “Just hold me.”

He gathered her to him and kissed her ever so gently, careful not to hurt her lovely lips any more than they already were. The kiss was filled with tender, silent promises to love her for the eternity she had just requested. Long moments later, he gave a heartfelt groan and grumbled, “You know I want to make love to you, don’t you?”

She smiled and sighed. “Me, too, but we can’t. Not here. Not now. We’re not alone.”

Thomas knew she meant more than Nero. There was a train full of people who would have something to say if the pair of them was found in the throes of passion. “The first thing you and I are going to work on when we’re married is better timing and location.” He laughed, raining gentle kisses over her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and down her neck.

Her laugh was soft and seductive.

Thomas’s tantalizing trail returned to her lips, but he halted there and looked deeply into her eyes. “Know this, Laney. You’re the one thing I’ll wait on forever. You just tell me when.”