Wanted (24 page)

Daniel took the telegram and opened it. He was a part of the Braden family. There were no secrets, and he was as worried as all of them about Nick and Lori. He remembered the previous telegram word for word. He had gone cold when he read it. Nick Braden had been his protector since Nick had been ten and started towering over Daniel, though Daniel had then been around twenty-five. Anyone, even adults, who teased or taunted Daniel had Nick to contend with, and Nick, when he was angry, could be dangerous.

Daniel loved Nick and Lori as if they were his own brother and sister. And they were. Jonathon had found Daniel when he was eight, little more than a starved animal. He had been sold to a circus by his family, who was ashamed of giving life to a dwarf. He'd been displayed in a cage for several years.

Jonathon had bought him from the circus owner, though it had gone against his grain to buy and sell human beings, and had patiently taught him to read and write, had even raised him as his own. Daniel had been fifteen when Jonathon had come across Fleur and the baby so many years ago.

It was Daniel who had helped care for them, particularly the boy, after they found the mother and child in Texas. And then Jonathon and Fleur had fallen in love, and they'd seen no reason that the child shouldn't think of both of them as his real parents. After Fleur and Jonathon were married, they had registered the father of the boy as Jonathon. And Jonathon had always considered Nick his, even after the other two children came.

Daniel had kept that secret all his life. He would carry it to the grave with him if that was what Jonathon wanted.

And now Nick was in grave danger. The first telegram from Lori had been sent from Laramie. It had simply said that Nick had been taken prisoner by a Texas Ranger who planned to return him to Texas. She would send another telegram as soon as she could.

Daniel had known exactly what that meant. She would try to rescue Nick on her own. Lori had always been full of confidence, and she had reason. She was unusually bright and intuitive, quick to master a variety of skills, particularly anything involving coordination and concentration, and used to getting her own way. And she did it so charmingly, flashing that bright, open smile, that no one would gainsay her.

But a Texas Ranger? Daniel Webster was an observer. He had to be. And the Medicine Show had traveled Texas enough that he knew the breed. Hard and relentless. It took a particular kind of man to withstand the loneliness and isolation of that kind of life. A sheriff was different. He lived in a town and had good times as well as bad. The Rangers had few good times. They had only each other.

He read the telegram again. Lori had been unusually brief, which meant she was being watched.
Traveling through mountains. Headed for Pueblo. Will try to move slowly
.

“Try.” Which meant she was with them.

Daniel walked over to the saloon and found Andy. He ignored the usual jocular commentary on his size and simply handed the telegram to Andy, who read it quickly. He jerked upright, knocking over the chair, spilling the beer on the table. “Come on, Daniel,” he said as he threw several coins onto the table, which had righted itself.

Daniel ran to keep up with the long-strided Andy, uncaring of the comical sight he presented, and didn't voice his usual protest when Andy tossed him up into the saddle of Andy's pinto and mounted behind him. Andy spurred the horse, and they raced the mile to the cabin where the family was wintering.

Three hours later Andy was heading for Pueblo on the pinto, and Jonathon, Fleur, and Daniel were behind him in the Medicine Wagon. Fleur wouldn't even think of being left behind. She couldn't shoot, but Nick was her baby, her firstborn. And Lori … Lori was everything any parent could want. So passionate about life. She embraced it as few others did.

Traveling through mountains
. Daniel snapped the whip over the head of the horses harnessed to the wagon. They would have to move fast, but they were taking the faster plains route. They should make good time. If only Lori succeeded in moving “slowly.”

If anyone could accomplish that, Daniel knew, it was Lori.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Morgan ruthlessly kept them moving. They were all dozing in the saddle by the time he considered calling a halt in late afternoon. Even he had nodded off several times, jerking full awake at a sudden sound. But, then, he'd slept in the saddle on other occasions. His bay was well-trained, and he trusted it not to misstep or shy at an unexpected noise; his prisoners were once more tied to their saddles.

He had hesitated before binding Lori's hands, but he had no time for her tricks, and he was too damn tired to be as alert as he should be. He had known instantly on the stairs at the hotel that she was thinking about making some kind of move; her back had tensed as she'd hesitated. She just damn well wasn't going to give up. So when he'd saddled the horses, he'd used his bandanna to tie her hands to the saddle horn and had handcuffed Braden as he always did.

He had followed a streambed until late morning, walking the horses through the shallow water, then had made for the high country, where he hoped the rocks would make a trail even more difficult to follow. Once he'd secured the Bradens, he would backtrack, make sure they weren't followed. He wished he could think more clearly. He should have done something about Whitey a month ago, but the bounty hunter wasn't wanted, and no sheriff would hold him. Morgan could have killed him, probably should have, but he was still too much a Ranger to kill an unarmed man in cold blood, even an animal like Whitey Stark. Now there were three of them, normally not that much of a threat—except now Morgan had his hands full with Nick and Lori Braden.

His back stiffened just thinking about her. He had taken the lead, had tried to keep his eyes from the slender girl, whose hair now fell halfway down her back in an untidy braid. Anyone else would look like hell after what she'd gone through, but weariness had only seemed to magnify those golden eyes that cut through him each time their gazes met. He didn't know which was more agonizing: the hostile defiance that so often gleamed in her eyes or those rare moments when they blazed with a passion that had little to do with anger.

Or maybe that forbidden passion had everything to do with anger. Remember that, he warned himself. Remember that before you find a knife in your back. Either way, she radiated life. That was one thing that so intrigued him about her. All that life.

Just before they left the stream, he watered the horses and filled the canteens. They would have a dry camp this afternoon. No fire, no smoke. Jerky and hardtack would have to do for food. He knew he needed sleep. They all did. And they would be safer without a fire and then moving again when nightfall came. There was a full moon that night, and he might as well take advantage of it.

He found a small, protected clearing, well shielded by trees, and stopped. He took off his gloves and untied Lori's hands, dismounted, and then offered his hand to her. To his surprise she took it, sliding off the saddle. She stumbled as her feet hit the ground, and Morgan found himself catching her, his arms automatically going around her. He wondered only fleetingly whether the stumble was accidental or on purpose, because his body immediately responded to hers, to the softness, to the way it leaned into his for the briefest of moments.

But any idea he might have had that the stumble was deliberate was immediately put to rest. She stiffened and backed away as if burned. Automatically, his hand reached out to steady her arm, and she jerked away at his touch. There was no doubt that she detested even that touch, and his hand fell away awkwardly as if he were a small boy reaching for a forbidden pie and caught at it.

He turned away, wishing the rejection of his very touch didn't hurt so goddamn much. He had been wrong surmising, even for a second, that she might have welcomed his nearness, that those kisses had been anything but a lure, and she couldn't even bear to play that game now. He stalked over to his horse, took the leg irons from his saddlebags as Braden dismounted, and waited for the inevitable. He locked them onto Braden, and then freed him from the saddle horn. Braden stretched his arms and stared at Morgan. “Don't you ever sleep?”

“I'm about to do just that,” Morgan said.

“That means I'm going to be real uncomfortable again.”

Morgan didn't reply. He turned back to Lori. “You have a few minutes.” He didn't have to say anything more. She glared at him but then turned and disappeared into the woods. Morgan leaned against the tree. Damn, he hated this. He wished he could ask for her word. He wished she would give it. He wished he could accept it. But he just plain didn't trust her. “You too,” he said to Braden. “But
you
keep in sight.”

“Bit edgy, aren't you, Ranger?”

“Don't goad me, Braden.”

“Or what? What else can you do?”

Morgan spun on him, almost swinging, but stopped himself at the last minute. He wouldn't be tempted into hitting a chained man.

“Three minutes, Braden. Then you get attached to a tree. You can use that time any way you want.”

Braden didn't move. “What about food? Coffee?”

“You'll get water and jerky.”

Braden's jaw set. “And Lori?”

“The same. I didn't ask her to come after you in Laramie.”

“You could have left her in Georgetown.”

Morgan felt a sick helplessness. “Let's get one thing straight. I don't want her here any more than you do. But I know those goddamn bounty hunters. If they even thought she knew the direction we'd be taking, they'd grab her. And they wouldn't be as gentle as I've been. You can be damned sure they know about her, know she was in Laramie with us.”

Nick weighed the information. The telegram. Lori had told him about the telegram she'd sent. Would the bounty hunters check the telegraph office? He hadn't wanted her to do that, hadn't wanted to drag Jonathon and Andy into this, but Lori hadn't listened to him since this whole mess started in Texas months ago. He realized it was more urgent than ever that he escape.

“Can't you stop them?”

“Not until they try something.”

“The law,” Nick said contemptuously. “You'd let them kill Lori before you'd do anything. I'm innocent, goddamn you, and you drag me to hell and back. But you ignore someone you think would hurt a woman. Run from him. What kind of twisted justice is that?”

“Your time is up, Braden. Over to one of those aspens.”

Nick's lips curled. “That's it, Davis? Another order instead of an answer. Or don't you have one? Just mindless, stupid obedience to what you call duty. Well, you can take your damn duty and stuff it down your throat. I'll be damned before I let you chain me to that tree.” His cuffed hands balled into fists. He was too tired now to be careful, too frustrated, too worried about his family. He almost welcomed a bullet before suffering any more humiliation from this ass of a Ranger, before further endangering everyone he cared about.

“And Lori?” the Ranger said softly. “You want her to see you die?”

“It looks like she will one way or another. I'd rather she see me die by a bullet than a noose. Besides, you won't shoot me. Not like this.”

“Don't bet on it. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a murderer.”

“Then do it!”

The challenge was thrown at the Ranger, and Nick saw muscles move in the Ranger's weary face. Then the Ranger removed his gunbelt and let it drop as he moved closer to Nick. Hindered by the handcuffs, Nick locked his hands together. He had learned exactly how much he could move with the leg irons, and he took the one possible step before throwing his locked fists into the Ranger's jaw, putting all his strength into the blow.

Damn, but it was pure pleasure.

Nick's mind registered the sound of his hands against the man's jaw, but the Ranger didn't go down, though he stumbled backward. Nick fastened his eyes on the gun in the holster just feet away. But the leg irons so limited his movement, the distance might as well have been miles. He drew his fists back again, knowing that the Ranger had allowed that first blow. Nick didn't know why. He just hoped he would have a second chance.

He didn't.

The Ranger stepped back, and Nick stumbled. He righted himself, but he lost the power behind his move, and he stood there furiously, knowing that he was impotent. He wondered why the Ranger didn't strike back, instead of watching him with that infuriating impassivity that seemed to mock him. Nick knew it was hopeless, that he was nothing more than a bothersome fly buzzing about the man, and that made him angrier, thrusting aside the momentary frustration. He put all his strength behind one great all-or-nothing effort. He lifted his hands as he propelled his body toward the Ranger in one great lunge, seeking to get the chain between his wrists around the man's neck.

The movement threw them both to the ground, but the Ranger managed to catch the chain before it went over his head and jerked it down. The two men rolled over and over, much as they had at the cabin, Nick trying to use the only thing he had, his weight, to pinion his tormentor and then somehow get the handcuffs around his neck.

He had a few pounds and desperation on his side. The Ranger had free hands and legs. Nick was able to roll over and for a moment pin the Ranger down. Then he saw the Ranger's gunbelt inches away. Nick reached for it, giving the Ranger a moment to regain his balance and bring his knee up, kicking Nick in the groin. The pain was paralyzing, and the Ranger pushed Nick all the way off and grabbed the gun.

Nick doubled over, lay there, trying to get his breath as the Ranger buckled the belt back on, then reached down and grabbed Nick's shoulders, dragging him to a slender tree. The Ranger quickly chained him to the tree. Then he stood, and Nick knew he was waiting for him to look up. Pain and defeat ran deep inside Nick. For a moment he'd almost thought he had a chance. He finally looked up at Davis, not wanting to appear to be avoiding his gaze.