One Texas Night (37 page)

She saw the blink of his eye and knew she’d stood down a fighter who’d never backed away.

His grip loosened and gave. He stepped away and raised his hands in silent surrender.

She’d broken him, but passion still fired in his gaze like a fever out of control. “Sit down.” She pointed to her traveling trunk.

He raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. The trunk was too high to be a chair, but made a good bench and put her a head above him.

She walked over to stand directly in front of him. “You’ll never take anything from me, Wynn McCord. Not one thing,” she said. “Get that clear. You’ll never take me. I think you’ll have to learn to come toward me some other way than at full charge. If there is to be anything between us, there will be no orders.” She’d give him everything, if he asked, but nothing if he demanded.

She sensed he was in uncharted territory, but he was a strong man and his face showed nothing of how he felt. His glare was so strong she swore she could feel it on her skin.

Slowly, she lowered her crossed arms and her gown slipped back to where it had been, barely covering the peaks of her breasts.

He glanced from her chest to her face, trying to read what she was offering. “I know no words, Anna. I’ll never come a’courting. I’ll never know what to say or how to tell you the things women want to hear.”

“I don’t expect such things,” she said. “But I do expect honesty.”

“You’ve told me that before, Anna.”

She smiled. “And next time taking it a little slower wouldn’t hurt.”

Carefully, he raised his hands to her waist and tugged her toward him. Then he lowered his mouth and planted a feather kiss on the top of each breast before he looked directly into her eyes and said, “I’ll work on it if you’re willing to put up with me.” He lowered his head and she felt his smile against her skin.

Anna began to shiver as he moved over her flesh. Her hands rested on his shoulders as he drew her to him and nuzzled between her breasts, then turned slowly from one to the other, breathing her in as if she were a flower.

When he straightened, he grinned at her as his hand moved up her ribs and tugged her gown down.

For a while he just looked and moved the tips of his fingers over her gift to him. “You are so beautiful,” he said again as he lifted the weight of one breast and brushed his finger over her skin.

She would have fallen with pleasure if his arm hadn’t held her up.

He stood and carried her to her cot. When he lay her atop the quilt, he knelt beside her. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Part of her wanted to fight, to break away and run, not from him, but from herself. From feelings so long denied she’d forgotten how to live.

His big hand stroked over her bare body, pushing the gown lower until it barely covered her hips. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as he kissed her. Again and again, he moved up to her lips, his kiss deep with need as his hands branded her.

She relaxed, giving over to the pleasure of his touch. When he stopped, she opened her eyes, wondering how this man could have gotten so close, not with tender words and soft touches, but with honesty in his longing for her.

His hand spread out across her abdomen. “I have to go.” He said the words slowly, as if forcing them out. “But I’ll have your word you’ll stay in camp before I go. Nowhere is totally safe, but you’ll be surrounded here.”

She didn’t trust her voice. She simply nodded. He’d just shown her how much he wanted her. With his words he was telling her how much he cared for her.

She’d thought he would continue touching her, but he stepped away and picked up her robe. Silently she stood, barely aware of the gown falling away as she stepped into the robe he offered.

He tied it above her waist and took one of her hands, kissed it, and then pulled her to the door.

“Hell’s fires won’t keep me from coming back,” he whispered as he pulled her to him one last time.

They held each other tightly for a minute, then he patted her on the bottom and pushed away from her.

A moment later, he was gone. Anna shoved the bolt closed and went back to the cot where she cried herself to sleep, knowing when he came back she would let him in . . . whether he stayed a night, or forever.

Chapter 6

McCord rode for half the night before he stopped to water his horse. The hardest thing he’d ever done was leave Anna, but deep down he knew leaving her was the only way he’d keep her alive.

The gambler was hunting them both, and McCord knew men like Frank Sanders would come after him first. He’d consider the woman easy pickings, not near the challenge a Ranger would be to kill. He’d want McCord out of the way so he could take his time with the woman. McCord doubted Sanders or Thorn had put the pieces together and figured out that the letter they wanted so desperately to stop from being delivered had been with a Ranger, and not in the mailbag on the stage.

McCord had to draw Frank Sanders away from Anna, and he had a mission he had to finish. If he had a choice, he’d meet the outlaws out in the open so Anna wouldn’t be in danger. Then, when they were dead or in jail, he’d ride back and linger for a week in that funny little tent inside a building.

It was almost dawn, but he could still feel her against him. The woman had climbed into his blood and was pumping through every part of his body. He didn’t want to marry her and have kids and settle down. He wanted to make love to her until they both died of hunger. He wanted to touch her all night long and wake her again and again with passion. He wanted to be so deep inside her he stepped out of this world.

McCord was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed the glint of sunlight off a rifle. The bullet came within a foot of his head as he dove off his horse.

He rolled into the brush, both guns ready and waiting.

Nothing.

An hour passed. Not a sound. Frank Sanders was playing with him. The idea that McCord had escaped and taken another witness with him must have infuriated the gambler. Thorn and Sanders planned to pay him back by making him sweat awhile before they killed him. McCord wondered if the horse he’d heard riding past while he and Anna hid in the rocks that first night had been ridden by Frank. After he killed the others at the station, the gambler might have raced after them, knowing he’d be in real trouble if he failed Thorn by not finding the letter
and
by letting witnesses live.

McCord burrowed in and waited out the day, determined not to give the gambler any chance to fire again.

At dusk, he climbed on his horse and rode out before even the stars offered light. He’d have to be more careful, but when his job was done, he would track the gambler down.

By sunup McCord and his horse were safely away, miles to the north of where he’d been shot at. The Ranger needed a few hours’ sleep and then he had to think. The letter in his boot was due by the end of the week to an Indian agent deep in the territory. He could make the ride in two days on a good horse. The question was, did he deliver it first, then find Frank, or try to find the gambler first, then burn leather to make it to the agent in time?

Only one answer came to mind. The outlaw could wait a few days to be arrested; the letter had to be delivered. Hundreds of lives might be saved if the agent could put the governor’s plan into action.

Splashing across the Cimarron River, he entered the rolling hills of Indian Territory. The outlaws wouldn’t follow him this far. Once he was out of Thorn and his mens’ rifle range, he could ride hard toward Medicine Lodge on the Salt Fork, where the agent was reportedly staying.

Anna was safe at the camp, surrounded by a hundred armed men, and with luck he’d be back in time to catch Thorn’s whole gang before they caused any more harm.

Chapter 7

Annalane spent her first few days in camp setting up the long, narrow room at the front of the infirmary to serve as a doctor’s office and operating room. She wasn’t sure if it was curiosity, or the long absence of an infirmary in camp, but people dropped by to help and to complain about small ailments. Two of the three women in camp were pregnant and happy to see someone they could talk to.

Her brother walked in on the third day to nod his approval at the job she was doing. Shelves filled with organized and labeled supplies lined the wall. He talked of his excitement at being posted at his first fort, but said little about medicine. When she asked a few questions about where to put tools, he seemed unsure. She knew medical school was mostly two terms of lectures and some work on cadavers if students could afford them, but she was shocked at his lack of knowledge. A nurse, a week into training knew the names of medical supplies.

Before she could begin to ask more questions or suggest he might help set up his own office, Devin announced, “I’ll be riding back along the stage line to inform the owners of their loss of employees. Not that it’s the army’s fault—we warned them not to try a run this far north. Teamster wagon trains a hundred long were safe enough to move from fort to fort, but it is far too early to even think about establishing a stage line.” He pointed at her. “You were a fool to take a stage. You should have waited at Dodge until supply wagons with guards could have delivered you.”

She hated the way he talked down to her, never thinking to ask if she’d had enough money to wait in Dodge. Before she could fire back, he stormed toward the door.

Glancing back, he added, “I’m assuming you can handle everything here while I’m gone.”

“How long will that be?” Annalane asked, thinking one, maybe two days there and the same back should do it. What if the camp needed a doctor while he was gone? She wondered if her little brother had yet had his hands covered in warm blood. She doubted it. Being a doctor to him was more theory and grandeur than reality.

“I’ll be gone a week,” he said without meeting her gaze. “Maybe more. I have army business to take care of that doesn’t concern you.”

She straightened. “Devin, I’m here to help you, not do all the work. Don’t you dare treat me like your servant.”

He frowned. “Or what? Or you’ll pack up and leave? Go ahead. You’ve never been much good at staying around. I doubt if it ever occurred to you that all those years during the war your family might have needed you around. Times were hard then, you know.” For a moment he looked like the boy she remembered and not the man before her.

Annalane fought down words she knew she’d regret saying. She didn’t have the funds to go anywhere and he was well aware of the fact. She might be able to make it back to Fort Worth, or even Austin, but then she’d be penniless, looking for a job. She wanted to also point out that if he thought it was hard at home, he should have tried being at the battles.

But she wouldn’t tell him. That was the past. Hopefully he’d never know war, and in time her memories would fade.

When she didn’t snap back, he softened slightly. “Look, sis, I know it’s hard on you, but you’re used to hard times. I want to help you, I really do. My plan is simple. Help me set up this place and get it started, then maybe one of the single officers will see how useful you are to have around. Lieutenant Dodson is a widower with three kids and having a hell of a time. If you play your cards right, you could be married to him by Christmas and have a man to take care of you.”

“You’re delusional.” Who would take care of Dodson . . . and the three children . . . and the house . . . and . . . She frowned, knowing her brother would never understand that marriage is
not
a ticket out of work.

Devin laughed. “Come on, Annalane, you need a husband and Dodson can’t afford to be too picky. It might not be a marriage of love like you and your first love thought you had nine years ago, but it would be practical. He’s been in the army for over ten years, so he’s made of sturdier stuff than the kid you called husband for an hour.”

Annalane fought the urge to slap her only kin. If Sergeant Cunningham hadn’t walked through the door, she might have. Devin had always been spoiled as a child and he hadn’t changed much.

Cunningham saluted Devin, then addressed her. “I’m sorry to bother you this early, but I’ve been sent to tell you or the doctor that Private Price’s wife is going into labor and everyone in camp knows Victoria is a screamer when she’s not happy.”

Devin headed for the door. “Take care of it, Annalane. I’ve got men waiting for me. Surely even you can handle a birthing.” He was gone before she could answer.

Annalane grabbed a basket she’d put supplies in and shoved it toward the sergeant. “Let’s go. Babies don’t wait.”

Cunningham led the way. “Did your brother ever deliver a baby?”

“Not that I know of,” she answered, aware that most of Devin’s experience had probably been on corpses.

“That’s what I figured. He looked a might pale. How about you?”

“I’ve delivered a dozen or more near battlefields. Wives wanting to see their men one more time before the baby came.” They moved through the tents and corrals along the outside of a wooden stockade that held supplies, as she added, “The hospital where I worked only treated veterans, but some women didn’t know that until they arrived, already in hard labor. We kept a room ready for emergencies like that. Over the four years I was there, I welcomed many a life into this world and helped the mother mourn the passing of a few wee ones who didn’t make the crossing.”