Wanted (10 page)

“I'll be back in a moment, miss,” he said, and went through a door to the back of the building. Lori moved quickly to where the gunbelts were hanging and removed a weapon from one of the holsters in the back, covering it with another. She returned to the front of the desk, sat, and swiftly pulled up her dress, fitting the gun into the strips of cloth tied to her leg. She had just smoothed her skirt over her legs when the lawman returned. Lori was dabbing her cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Sorry, miss,” he said, sitting back down and regarding her sympathetically. “Just offhand, I don't know of anyone, but I'll make inquiries, and I'll tell Jim Evans at the stable to let you see your horse anytime you want.”

“Do you think … I can ride Clementine out to see my brother before …” Tears started to trickle down her face again.

“Doggarn, I don't know why not,” he said. “I'll just give you a note for Jim. And for the warden out there.” He hurriedly wrote out the notes, muttering about Texas Rangers who thought they were God.

Lori told herself not to overdo it as she gratefully took the notes, but she gave the sheriff a blinding smile. “It's nice to know someone cares about justice,” she said, “not just rewards.”

“I'll be on the lookout for someone to accompany you,” he said, “but I don't hold out much hope.”

“You've already been so good and helpful,” she whispered brokenly. “I won't forget it.”

He flushed with pleasure, ready by now to go to war with the Ranger, who had no business in Wyoming anyway, by his reckoning. People around there didn't treat a lady so poorly, practically stealing her horse and all.

“I'll walk you back to the hotel, miss,” he said.

The last thing she needed was to be seen in his company. She hoped the sheriff was also the last person the Ranger would expect she might go to for a gun. She shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, “but … I …”

Another tear dribbled down as she made a creditable show of trying to compose herself. “You've been so kind. Please … understand, but I need to be alone … I had so hoped you might be able to help Nick.”

He shook his head. “It's out of my hands.”

“I don't want anyone to see me like this,” Lori said with a sudden burst of inspiration. “Is there … a back way?”

He nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. “I have rooms upstairs. There's a side entrance.”

Again she smiled, a sad, grateful smile that she knew was difficult to resist. Smiles came naturally to her, and she'd learned long ago how effective they could be. “After that horrible Ranger, I never thought I could admire a lawman again.” She held out her wrists to him, and the marks on them were evident. “He even tied me up because I said he didn't have any right to take in Nick.”

The sheriff swore softly, then said, “Begging your pardon, miss. He needs to be taught some manners.”

Lori shook her head. “He'd just take it out on my brother. Please don't say anything.”

“I'll let him know he'd better show up in Texas with a live prisoner,” the sheriff said. “A good lawman has that duty.”

She looked at him with her eyes wide. “You would do that?”

“Yes, miss. Don't like that kind of lawman any more than I do lawbreakers.”

Lori reached up on her tiptoes and spontaneously gave him a kiss on a cheek. “You've restored my faith in the law,” she said shyly.

His face went red again, and he abruptly moved to the door he'd disappeared through earlier. Beyond that there were stairs to the right; to the left there was another door, the top part barred. She followed the sheriff up the stairs to a landing. There were two doors in the hall and one on the end, which he approached. He took out a set of keys, unlocked the door, and held it open for her.

She looked out on a small porch, with steps leading down to an alley that ran beside the building. She turned back to the sheriff. “I can never thank you enough.”

“No need, miss. You need anything, you come see me.”

She nodded.

So far, so good.

She tried to be happy about her success, but she kept seeing the Ranger's face the night before, that quick flash of humor, those moments when she'd glimpsed a deep loneliness within him. The gun felt very heavy against her leg.

Tears burned her eyes. Success had a very bitter taste.

Morgan listened intently to the owner of the mercantile as he packaged the supplies the Ranger had just purchased.

“Oh, yes, she was in here,” the man said to Morgan's question. “Pretty little thing. But why would she want a gun?”

Morgan sighed. So he was right, after all.

“Hope she's feeling better,” the man said.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Feeling better?”

“Terrible headache, she said. I suggested a few drops of laudanum. Sure hope it helps. Doc's out of town, or I would have sent her to him.”

“Laudanum?” Morgan repeated.

The man nodded, pleased with himself for his helpfulness.

Thoughtfully, Morgan left. So that was what she intended. Another … friendly dinner. Drugged coffee. And then only God knew what she had planned—he sure as hell didn't. He'd never met anyone like her. Christ, just thinking about her last night, that kiss. Part of him went rigid at the recollection, even as he warned himself against her. He'd tried to tell himself all night that the kiss had been just another confidence game, another act. A swindle.

Still, she couldn't have faked her response to him. She had been too angry at herself. He had seen that fury in her eyes, had recognized it because he'd felt the same damn disgust at himself.

At least he didn't have to worry about her the rest of the day. He would ask her to dinner again, pretend to drink whatever she would drug, and then wait for her next move. There was really damn little he could do until then. The jail was filled. He couldn't ask the territorial prison to confine her when there was no warrant for her, and he had no legal reason to hold her. He would feel one hell of a lot better when she was on the Denver stage tomorrow. One Braden was enough to worry about.

He didn't like the nagging voice inside that whispered he might miss that intriguing challenge she represented. He had a feeling that the brother might represent an equally challenging one, once his sister was safely out of the way. Still … there was something about Lorilee Braden that made him feel very much alive, made his body rumble with pleasure and his mind smile. He didn't know when last it was that he had bantered as he had last night, when he'd smiled and even teased a little. And when she smiled … it was like the brilliant first glimpse of the sun after a fortnight of storms.

He decided he would get some sleep that afternoon. He sure as hell didn't think he would get any that night, and he knew he had to leave in the morning. The warden had said he could keep Braden no longer, and Morgan knew the bounty hunters wouldn't be far behind now.

Yep. Sleep was what he needed now. If only he could keep her from haunting his dreams, if only his body could relax, numb itself against its own primal reactions.

Lori heard him come down the hall, heard his footfalls stop at her door, then continue on to his own room. She knew they were his, the way they hesitated outside her room. She also knew it simply because she
felt
it.

She changed clothes, slipping into her split skirt and shirt. She didn't dare take the carpetbag, which meant she would have to leave her dress, but she very carefully wrapped her pants and shirt and tucked them, along with her coat, into her bedroll. She slipped into the corridor after making sure no one was there. The stairs led down into a main lobby, and she couldn't take her bedroll that way. At the end of the hall, however, was a window and a fire escape, which led to the back of the building and an empty lot.

She dropped the bedroll out the hall window, then leisurely strolled down the corridor, walked down the stairs, and out the door. The stable was just a few doors away. She handed the sheriff's note to the stubborn stable owner, whose attitude changed abruptly. He saddled Clementine for her.

“I'll be back soon,” she said, dispensing another smile. “I'm just going to see my brother.”

She had to restrain herself from urging Clementine into a gallop. Instead, she very sedately walked the mare down the street as the stableman went back inside the barn, and then she doubled back, turning down a road to the back of the buildings. She retrieved the bedroll, quickly buckling it to the back of the saddle. The pistol she had stolen from the sheriff remained well anchored on her leg. Once she was out of sight of town, she would place it in the saddlebags. It was rather uncomfortable, despite the small sense of security it gave her.

She should have several hours before the Ranger discovered her missing. With luck it would be dark. By then her tracks would be mixed with so many others leading out of town, he would never find her.

But she would find him. She had a very good idea where he would head once he left Laramie with Nick. And because the Medicine Show had traveled the towns of north Colorado, she suspected she was far more familiar with the area than he. Lori knew just where to watch for him. If he didn't show by noon tomorrow, she would know he had decided to take the direct route across the plains, and she could easily catch up with him. He couldn't travel very fast, not with Nick, who would slow him as much as he could.

Morgan knocked on her door, then tried the doorknob. It was locked, and there was no sound inside. He went down to the desk and asked the clerk for a key. Since he had paid for the rooms, he received no argument. Morgan was beginning to have a very bad feeling about all this. Night had fallen; the stores were closed. She should have been in her room.

He unlocked the door and lit the gas lamp. The carpetbag, partially open, lay on the bureau; the brown-checked dress was carelessly thrown on the bed. Other than those two items, the room was empty. He went to the carpetbag. There were a few personal female items within, including a corset. He located the bottle of laudanum and balanced it in his hands as he tried to think.

She had left enough of her belongings that she could still be in town, but he had the uncomfortable feeling he'd been outsmarted. That feeling was growing more acute by the minute.

Where would she have gone?

He ran down the steps and strode quickly to the stable. Lorilee Braden's mare was gone. He confronted the stable owner, who showed him the note from the sheriff. She'd said she would be back shortly.

How long ago?

The man shrugged. “Four … five hours.”

“What direction?”

“I didn't watch.”

Morgan swore to himself. The man had been charmed by Lori. That much was obvious. He wasn't going to offer one bit of information. Morgan was tempted to confront the sheriff, but there was no telling what tales Lori had spun to convince the lawman to interfere. Morgan doubted he would get much cooperation from him now.

It was too dark to trail her. At least Braden should be safe enough in the territorial prison.

Or was he?

Morgan was beginning to wonder if anything was beyond the wily Miss Lori. He just hoped to hell she hadn't somehow got her pretty hands on a gun. He doubted, though, that even if she had, she was capable of killing anyone. Her weapons, he believed, were her charm and wits.

He saddled his bay, rode to the territorial prison, and found his prisoner still there. No young lady had asked to see him. Morgan almost decided to take Braden then and there, but his supplies were still in his hotel room, Braden's bay still at the stable. He might as well wait until morning.

What in the hell was Miss Lorilee planning?

Morgan only knew he preferred bounty hunters to Miss Lori any day. But now it seemed he might have both of them on his trail. He knew how to handle the hunters, but he was beginning to realize he didn't know how to handle the woman.

It was a humiliating discovery.

Nick never thought he would be glad to see a lawman's face, but he was damned grateful to see Morgan Davis's, even if it did look so irritatingly like his own.

The last two nights had been hell. He knew now that he would rather hang than spend time in a place like the Wyoming Territorial Prison. His cell had been little more than a tomb, four feet by seven feet, containing a hammock and a slop bucket. He had never realized before that he hated and feared small places, though he had always preferred sleeping outside, even as a small lad, to spending nights in the cramped, crowded interior of the Medicine Show Wagon.

Apparently because he was a temporary resident, he had been left his own clothes, rather than forced to wear the black-and-white-striped uniforms of the other inmates, and his hair had been left unshorn. But there was a stench that remained on his clothes, even as he held out his hands for the handcuffs and followed the taciturn Ranger outside to the horses. He felt as if he could breathe for the first time since he was locked in the small cell. The panic, the constriction in his chest, the fast, painful beating of his heart dissipated in the bright light of day. He took full swallows of sweet air, felt the morning sun bathe him with freshness.

He waited patiently as the Ranger once more used the second set of handcuffs to lock his wrists to the saddle horn. He noted there were only the two horses and wondered about Clementine.

“Lori?” he said.

The Ranger's jaw set.

“She's on the Denver stage?”

The Ranger didn't answer as he finished his task and mounted his own horse. Nick's horse was already on a lead.

“Damn you, Davis. What about Lori?”

Morgan looked back, his face expressionless, but Nick sensed—no, he felt—a cold, simmering anger. For a moment he thought the man wouldn't answer, but then he appeared to change his mind. “She left on her own last night.”

“What do you mean, on her own?” Nick's hands tightened around the saddle horn as he kicked his bay to move up even with the Ranger.