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Winston flung up his hand as he surged to his feet. Although Winston was six feet tall and sturdy in stature, he had to stare up at Hud, who towered at six foot three inches in his stocking feet and outweighed the commander by at least twenty pounds.
“I asked Major Ketter to recommend his best Ranger for the task and he says you’re it.”
“But I’m leading a search to apprehend the outlaw who killed Speck Horton.”
Just saying Speck’s name aloud sent a wave of grief and frustration pouring over Hud. He and Speck had served in the Confederate Army together and had come to Texas to make a new start. Speck was as close to family as Hud had. The need to avenge Speck’s death tormented his waking hours and haunted his sleep. He didn’t want to be waylaid by escort detail.
“I have been briefed on your search and I am very sorry for your loss.” Winston stared straight at Hud. “I think that might be the other reason Major Ketter recommended you for escort duty. He thinks your vendetta has become too personal and obsessive and that you need a diversion.”
Like hell I do! He didn’t want to play nursemaid to some prissy tenderfoot female who had no business tramping around in an area that was jumping alive with Indian renegades. Occasionally they sneaked from Indian Territory to express dissatisfaction with conditions on the reservations and their outrage over another of the federal government’s broken treaties. Not to mention the problems associated with the influx of white and Mexican outlaw gangs. Plus, ranchers were feuding over water rights, land titles and lease agreements on public lands.
Hud couldn’t imagine why Commander Price would allow his daughter to venture out here. Did the dainty female have her father wrapped around her finger? Price had commanded military troops and state Rangers with ease. Apparently he couldn’t say no to his daughter. And what, Hud would like to know, was so damn important that the princess couldn’t wait until her daddy returned to Austin next month to see her?
“Major Ketter has agreed to let you gather your gear and leave for Fort Griffin within the hour.” Winston paused to blow two lopsided smoke rings in the air. “I don’t want Gabrielle to linger at The Flat longer than necessary. You know what a rowdy place it is.”
Teeth clenched, hands fisted at his sides, Hud nodded his dark head. The Flat was the raucous community that had sprung up at the bottom of the hill below the military fort. Buffalo hunters hauled in their hides for transport by wagon to the Dodge City railhead, where they were shipped to tanneries and millineries in the East. Cattle drovers arrived in town and let off steam by drinking, carousing and firing their six-shooters in the streets before trailing their herds to Dodge City. In addition, card sharks, harlots and all sorts of desperadoes, eager to engage in shootings, knifings and brawls, filled saloons and gaming halls. In short, it was the devil’s playground. Certainly not the place for a sophisticated lady.
“Sir, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know already,” Hud remarked, “but not only is this area dangerous but The Flat is as close to hell as most folks prefer to get. Several men have been killed publicly in showdowns. Then there are the ones who have been strung up by vigilantes. Between the cold-eyed killers, crooked dealers at faro, monte and poker tables and the soldiers who trot down Government Hill to carouse when they’re off duty, that is no place for a dignified lady.”
Plus, Hud had better things to do with his time than pick up a spoiled brat and deliver her to her daddy. Hell! This was the most ridiculous duty anyone had requested of him.
“I am aware of The Flat’s reputation,” Winston acknowledged before he took another long draw on his pipe. “Which is why I want you to leave immediately. I don’t know precisely when Bri’s stagecoach is due to arrive at The Flat. Fortunately her new fiancé is accompanying her.”
Wonderful, now he had to babysit and escort two citified greenhorns across the rugged terrain of the outlaw-infested badlands. Damn it, this unexpected assignment kept getting worse by the minute.
“I will be leaving your battalion this afternoon to inspect another Ranger unit,” Winston reported. Frustration must have shown on Hud’s face because Winston smiled sympathetically and patted him on the shoulder. “I understand your need for revenge, son. I lost several dear friends in the war. But rest assured that you will be back in a few days to resume command of your manhunt. I will assume responsibility for my daughter while she’s here.”
That should be fun, Hud thought sourly. The other men would be bowing and scraping over her and she’d probably soak up the male attention like a sponge. Most likely one adoring fiancé and a doting father wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Miss La-Di-Da Gabrielle Price.
“Bri is a very unique individual,” Winston boasted.
Of course, Winston would say she was unique. He was her father. Either that or sweet little Bri was unique because she had an extra finger on each hand or eyes in the back of her head. Whatever the case, Hud considered her an inconvenience of gigantic proportions.
Winston smiled fondly as a halo of smoke drifted around his head. “As a child she tried to be the son I never had. I called her the little general.”
It took considerable effort for Hud to keep from rolling his eyes. He had a personal and professional crusade driving him. He had vowed to apprehend Speck Horton’s murderer and this ridiculous escort detail was a waste of his valuable time and considerable skills as a Ranger.
“Then Bri blossomed into a woman and men showed up at my doorstep, requesting her company when she came to visit me.”
Hud looked at Winston and tried to imagine his broad forehead and angular features plastered on a female. It was not a particularly appealing image.
He didn’t know for sure but he presumed by Winston’s comment that he and his wife didn’t share the same residence. He wondered if Bri played her mother against her father to get what she wanted. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit.
“Now Bri’s mother has earmarked a young politician for her match and given her stamp of approval. If Bri is coming to ask for my formal blessing then she will have it. If this is what she wants. Bring my daughter to me, safe and sound, Captain Stone.”
The commander’s solemn expression and forceful tone implied “or else…”
“I will never forget the favor. Plus, I will alert the other Ranger battalions I visit about your friend’s killer so they can provide information to aid in your search.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hud said begrudgingly.
Then he wheeled around so Commander Price couldn’t see his scowl. Hud didn’t want to be relieved of his duty of tracking a ruthless killer, just so the commander could have his daughter escorted to him for a formal approval of her politician fiancé.
Swearing a blue streak Hud stalked off to gather his gear, saddle his horse and rush off to Fort Griffin to protect the female who should’ve had more sense than to venture to the hellhole in the first place.
While Hud was in town, he might take time to single out one of the harlots and scratch an itch that had gone unattended for more months than he cared to count. He ought to get something pleasurable from this mandatory trip. For sure and certain, chaperoning a pampered princess, whose father could dishonorably discharge him from Ranger service for disobeying a direct order, could destroy his future plans.
Hud glanced into the distance as he crammed his belongings into his saddlebags. He and Speck Horton had planned to build a prosperous ranch on the land grant they were to receive in compensation for their service to the Rangers. Now Speck wouldn’t be around to help Hud make that dream come true.
Still scowling at the unexpected turn of events that interrupted his manhunt, Hud swung into the saddle, turned his back on Angel Mesa—the rugged caprock that dropped into a maze of canyons—and pointed himself toward Fort Griffin. Two hours later, he realized that he hadn’t bothered to ask the commander for a description of his daughter.
“How the hell am I supposed to know who she is or where to find her?” he asked Rambler, the sturdy black gelding he was riding. “Right.” He gave a caustic smirk. “She’ll be the one wearing a diamond-encrusted tiara and who has a wide forehead, straight brown hair and dark eyes like her father.”
Hud had yet to meet Gabrielle—or Bri, the pet name her father used. But he disliked her sight unseen.
Gabrielle Price squirmed restlessly on the hard stagecoach seat and listened to her unwanted fiancé drone his life story to the three male passengers traveling with them to Fort Griffin. She flung Eaton Powell II a disgruntled glance and wished him to be anywhere else but here with her. She hadn’t requested his company on this trip. Indeed, she wanted to come alone but Eaton had insisted on traveling with her. He’d spouted something about protecting her from unscrupulous characters and using the trip to campaign for his next venture as a U.S. Senator.
Bri knew Eaton’s wealthy family had bought him votes to get him elected into Austin’s politics. She couldn’t imagine how many voters he thought he could contact at The Flat and the fort. The community wasn’t known for being public- or civic-minded. But Eaton claimed he wanted to branch out and locate other donors who might fund his campaign.
She wondered if his family had finally objected to his excessive habit of throwing around money and ordered him to find someone else to fund his campaign expenses and his extravagant spending.
Whatever the ulterior reason, Eaton had tagged along, much to her chagrin. She had been stuck on the train and then in a crowded stagecoach with him. So much for this spur-of-the-moment trip that was supposed to take her far away from Eaton.
“My father and brother are bankers in Austin,” Eaton was telling the other passengers when Bri got around to listening. “But I am more interested in serving my state and nation and becoming a spokesman for the common man.”
Bri knew Eaton had no real interest in serving anyone anywhere. His priority was his own ambition.
She turned her head and smirked while Eaton preened and passed around his manufactured smile. He smoothed his dark brown hair into place with an exaggerated gesture of his hand, and called attention to the gaudy rings that sparkled on his long fingers.
Spokesman for the common man? That was laughable. Not only was Eaton an elitist but he was also an exceptional performer. He could tell a convincing story, make all the right noises and sound sincere when the mood suited him. But mostly he was full of hot air and he bored Bri to tears.
She had observed him at his best, worst and all moods in between and had found nothing endearing or appealing about him. Furthermore, she wasn’t naive enough to think he felt any fond affection for her. No, it was her mother’s prestigious family name of Roland and their vast wealth that attracted Eaton. Bri’s mother and Eaton’s aunt hailed from what polite society referred to as two of the “first families” in Texas. They had been lifelong friends and they had machinated this betrothal to promote Eaton’s rise to political stardom.
Essentially Bri was the feather in Eaton’s cap, the merging of one well-heeled family to another. If Bri’s mother had her way—and she did entirely too often—her daughter would become the extension of her own life. A life that hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted.
Mother is not going to get her way in this instance, Bri promised herself resolutely. At twenty-three, Bri was old enough to make her own decisions and accept an engagement proposal, if and when she wanted to. She had to convince her father to side with her and to stand against his estranged wife. Besides, Bri couldn’t possibly plan a wedding while she was accompanying her father on his inspection of Ranger battalions in West Texas, now could she?
The thought of a grand adventure in the great outdoors filled Bri with excitement and anticipation. She thrilled at the prospect of leaving behind polite society and its obsessive preoccupation with her unusual interests and activities.
Bri stared across the countryside, marveling at the broad river valley flanked by rolling hills that were covered with mesquite and oak trees. Pecans and elms lined the creeks that tumbled into the river. Nothing would please her more than to rent a horse and explore this scenic wilderness.
“Tell me, gentleman, what are your opinions of the large ranchers who are objecting to our government’s insistence that they pay rent on the public lands where their cattle and horse herds are grazing without restriction?” Eaton asked.
Bri wanted to express her view about bullying cattle barons. They objected to small ranchers nesting near their domain and using water sources and rangeland that had been designated for public use. Of course, Eaton didn’t want her to have an opinion on anything. She was supposed to be window dressing for the upstart politician.
She tuned out Eaton, who had interrupted one of the passengers to express his opinion of favoring large ranchers over nesters. Instead, she poked her head out the window to survey The Flat. It was rumored to be one of the four wildest towns in the West. The community was a cultural paradox that not only boasted upstanding storeowners and farmers, but also harbored outlaws, harlots and gamblers.
It looked as if The Flat did indeed have a motley frontier population, she noted as she studied the individuals who were striding down the boardwalks. The place had sprung up at the base of Government Hill and the streets were lined with dozens of businesses. She spotted two freight offices, a large general store, three cafés, a telegraph office and a newspaper office. She also noticed two banks, a theater, gaming halls, saloons, a livery stable and a row of bordellos that seemed to be doing a thriving business an hour before sundown. Bri could only imagine how prosperous the dens of ill repute became after dark, when more of their potential clients were off work and on the prowl.
Bri perked up when she noticed the sign announcing the last performance of a traveling repertory company. Several men and woman milled around the redbrick theater, singing ditties and sporting costumes and props to entice attendance. The actors drew considerable attention, Eaton’s included. He came to point like a hunting dog when he spotted four young women flitting around in tight-fitting costumes.
Womanizer, she mused as she watched Eaton’s hawkish gaze rove over each woman’s physique.
Here was yet another reason Bri refused to spend her life shackled to this blowhard politician whose sexual appetite was whispered about in drawing rooms. Bri knew loyalty and fidelity weren’t among Eaton’s virtues—if in fact, he had any at all. She couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. But then he’d been getting on her nerves all day so it was hard to think past his annoying faults to find his redeeming qualities.
As the stagecoach halted beside the clapboard depot, Bri caught a whiff of a foul odor. She glanced sideways to see the oversized piles of buffalo skins and the unkempt men who wandered around the hide yard that sat on the edge of town.
“Ah, here we are,” Eaton said unnecessarily. He leaned close to add, “Honestly, Gabrielle, why must you wear these plain traveling clothes? You look like a sodbuster’s wife, not a future senator’s fiancée. You can afford to dress like a princess and you should.”
“I have no intention of soiling my best clothes in dusty stagecoaches. I don’t believe in flaunting family money,” she declared.
His gaze narrowed reproachfully. “I must remind you that your unfashionable appearance reflects badly on me. We are in the public eye because I’m running for office. You need to dress the part and keep up appearances for my sake.”
She cocked her head at him then stared pointedly at the three shabbily dressed men who climbed down from the coach. “I thought you wanted to represent the common man.”
“Represent them, yes. Become one of them? Hardly, my dear.” He flicked his wrist, urging her to step out of the coach by herself so he could make his grand entrance into the street. “Please find something flashy to complement my wardrobe before you venture out this evening.”
Grateful to escape the narrow confines of the coach—and Eaton—Bri practically launched herself through the door.
Glancing this way and that, Bri sought out a hotel that offered adequate accommodations. She noticed an establishment above a run-down saloon, but it didn’t appeal to her. Neither did the foul-smelling stack of hides close by. She intended to stay upwind of hide hunters and their pungent bounty.
The moment the driver handed down her two satchels, she hiked toward Brazos Hotel, which sat at the opposite end of town. The sound of tinkling piano music and boisterous laughter that wafted from the string of saloons was a welcome change from the tiresome sound of Eaton’s voice and his haughty criticism. Bri couldn’t wait to ensconce herself in a private room and relax.
“Slow down, my dear!” Eaton called out as he snatched up his four suitcases and clatted after her.
Bri glanced over her shoulder in time to see Eaton nod a flirtatious greeting to one of the thespians who all but floated across the street to greet him. It was lust at first sight for Eaton and the red-haired actress, she decided. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of the public flirtation playing out on the boardwalk. The voluptuous actress, with pouty lips and luminous green eyes, was welcome to Eaton. And vice versa. Bri didn’t want him. Never had.
One of the main objectives of her journey was to disengage herself from Eaton. Another was to enjoy the freedom and independence her mother constantly tried to stifle. Despite her mother’s browbeating efforts, Bri refused to be no more than a social hostess and devoted politician’s wife.
When the redhead twirled gracefully in front of Eaton, who had halted to watch her leap through the air like a ballerina, Bri smiled in amusement. Eaton’s arrogance was astonishing. He seemed to have no idea that she could see right through him and tell what he was thinking while he visually undressed the actress. She would be outraged if she had the slightest interest in the boorish dandy.
Her stomach growled as she hiked past one of the cafés. There would time for food later, she promised herself. First, she wanted to wash away the trail dust and relax in the privacy of her room.
Leaving Eaton to ogle the actress—and her friends, who gathered around to promote their farewell performance—Bri scurried into Brazos Hotel to request a room. She dug in to her purse to pay for her accommodations then trudged up the steps.
She expelled a gigantic sigh when she closed the door behind her and appraised her modestly furnished room. She was never so glad to be anywhere in her life! She could tend to the business of hiring a guide to accompany her to the Ranger camp, where her father was inspecting troops. Even better if her father had received her message in time to send someone to fetch her.
Mercy, it had been too long since she had seen her father. Almost six months, in fact, she mused as she shed her dusty calico gown and changed into a drab gray dress, floppy-brimmed bonnet and shawl that downplayed her feminine physique. She was counting on her father to become her champion against her mother’s unreasonable demands and expectations. He understood her restless spirit, her need for adventure and excitement. She was her father’s daughter, not her mother’s senseless puppet.
A fond smile pursed Bri’s lips as she pulled her bonnet low on her forehead to conceal her facial features. She loved her father dearly and respected him greatly. He didn’t lounge in an office at the state capitol. He personally inspected the troops and assessed the situation in the wilderness to ensure the Ranger battalions had enough manpower and supplies to keep the frontier safe. Winston Price was also feeding his adventurous soul. If he didn’t remember that Bri was the proverbial chip off the block, she vowed to remind him.
It was dark when Hud arrived in The Flat. His first order of business was to lead Rambler to the livery stable and brush him down thoroughly. In his line of work, a man was only as good as his horse. Hud made certain Rambler received full rations and the best of care.
He glanced down the street and told himself he should be enthusiastic about being back in society—if you could call this collection of misfits in The Flat society. He stared down the dimly lit street, noting the gathering crowds and hearing boisterous laughter wafting from a nearby gaming hall. There were all sorts of entertainment to be had. Ironically, all Hud wanted was a bath and a few minutes to stretch out on a real bed for the first time in months.
Assured that his horse was in capable hands, Hud strode off to find comfortable accommodations for himself. He pulled up short when a woman in a frilly costume pirouetted in front of him then leaped through the air.
“We’ll be giving our last performance tonight before continuing our tour to Fort Elliot, Tascosa and Mobeetie,” she announced as she circled around him and waved a perfume-scented scarf under his nose. “Come join us, handsome.”
Handsome? Hud inwardly scoffed as the woman flitted off to entice another passerby on the boardwalk. He didn’t consider himself anywhere near handsome. Whiskers lined his jaw. The bags under his eyes testified to his lack of sleep and too damn much time in the saddle.
Thanks to Commander Price, Hud had set a swift pace to reach Fort Griffin to look up Gabrielle and play nursemaid and tour guide.
Scowling, Hud veered into Brazos Hotel to rent a room. After requesting heated water for a bath, he slung his saddlebags over his shoulder then scaled the steps. He smiled appreciatively when he entered his room to see the feather bed and the brass tub in the corner.
Tossing aside his saddlebags, he ambled over to the window to look down on the bustling streets filled with hide hunters, gamblers, cowboys and desperadoes. Turning away to heel-and-toe out of his boots, Hud un-fastened his holsters and set aside his weapons. His gaze skittered around the room again.
“Hell of a life you lead,” he mumbled to himself. “The highlight of your month is bathing in a tub and sleeping on a real bed.”
Chapter Two
After a surprisingly appetizing meal at Garland Café, Bri scurried back to her room. She considered searching out a guide and arranging to rent a horse from the livery this evening. But first things first, she decided. She wanted to confront Eaton Powell II immediately. Although Bri could practically hear her mother pitching a fit—all the way from her palatial drawing room in Austin—she was giving Eaton notice that she had cancelled their engagement. Permanently. He could make his way home without her and he could campaign his heart out while he was at it.
All she wanted was to be rid of him for good.
Determined of purpose, Bri hiked down the hall. Two scraggly-looking characters came to attention as she approached. She kept her head down, her face concealed by the floppy-brimmed gray bonnet. She could feel the weight of the derringer she kept tucked in one garter on her thigh and the cool steel blade of the dagger she stashed on the other.
Anna Roland Price would throw a conniption if she knew what a vast education and unconventional training her daughter had received when she’d been shipped off to that snobbish finishing school in Houston. Bri had befriended a rascally, fun-loving street urchin—who had initially tried to rob her—and then he became her dearest companion.
The thought of Benji Dunlop’s life cut short by his senseless death galvanized her determination. She was not going to be the extension of her mother’s unreasonable expectations and she could handle herself in adversity, thanks to Benji’s thorough training. Bri had become a fair shot with a pistol. She could wield a knife accurately and she had learned to be a scrappy fighter in hand-to-hand combat.
“Don’t let nobody get the drop on you,” Benji had lectured her countless times. “Gotta guard yer own back ’cause you can’t count on nobody else to do it for you.”
Regret and sorrow whipped through Bri, remembering the loss of that treasured friendship. Benji had come to a bad end in a dark alley one night before he was to meet Bri for an evening adventure to Galveston. She had waited two hours but he never showed up. It was the next day before she learned that Benji had died at the hands of three knife-wielding bullies because he refused to give up the shiny gold pocket watch she had given him as a gift.
Bri slid her hand into her pocket to clasp the watch she had recovered at a pawnbroker’s shop. It was a constant reminder of the loyalty of her best friend and the uncertainty of life. Even after three years she still hadn’t recovered from the guilt. If she hadn’t given him the expensive gift that he treasured and carried proudly—visibly—he wouldn’t have lost his life.
“My, my, ain’t you easy on the eye, honey. Care for a little company?”
Bri ignored the tall, greasy-haired hombre whose smile displayed a mouthful of rotten teeth. He looked to be at least a decade older than her twenty-three years and he smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in months. When he grabbed her elbow, she jabbed him in the soft underbelly to ensure that he turned her loose so she could continue on her way.
“I bet I could teach you a thing or two about a woman’s place,” the man growled as he started after her.
“Try it and I’ll scream this place down around you. You can spend your evening in jail,” she muttered as she glared over her shoulder at him.
His slate-gray eyes narrowed menacingly. When he stepped toward her, his friend clamped hold of him to hold him at bay.
“Leave me alone, Pete,” the man said, and scowled.
“Easy, Joe, we got places we gotta be tonight. No need to call unnecessary attention to ourselves,” Pete, the heavyset, auburn-haired man insisted. “The boss wouldn’t like it.”
Bri ignored Joe Whoever-He-Was. She remained on high alert, in case the scoundrel wormed loose from his companion’s grasp and came after her.
She was proud to be the daughter of a veteran of the Confederate Army and Rangers’ upper echelon, as well as the best friend of a scrappy street fighter. Men didn’t expect her to be capable of defending herself. It was that element of surprise that had saved her several times when she chose to venture off alone to escape the restrictions of high society.
Bri silently rehearsed what she intended to say to Eaton before she wished him a final fare-thee-well. All the while, she cautiously monitored the whereabouts of the two men. She breathed a sigh of relief when they ducked into the room three doors down from her own. She halted in front of Eaton’s room and drew herself up to full stature, trying to make the most of her five-foot-three inch height.
She smirked at the thought of Eaton demanding the two-room dignitary suite. Nothing but the best for Eaton. He had convinced himself that he was entitled and he constantly put on airs to assure the public that he was something special.
