Carol Finch (4 page)

He swore colorfully when he heard the shoulder
seam of her gown rip loose and saw her drop a quick six inches. She was staring death in the face. Knowing her, she would have something mean and nasty to say about that, too.

Gritting his teeth, Quinn tried to figure out how in the hell he and Agatha were going to get out of this mess alive.

“S
top thrashing about and grab hold of my arm!”

Piper stared up at the rock-solid man who stood between her and certain death.
She
was terrified and was having difficulty drawing breath, but
Cal
was his usual calm and collected self. It amazed her that nothing seemed to faze him.

But of course,
he
wasn’t the one hanging on by the thread of his torn shoulder seam. And honestly, considering how she had needled him the past two days she was surprised he didn’t just let her go with a feigned smile of apology.

“Hurry up, Agatha,” he demanded. “The horses are going to start shifting any second and this coach might topple off the edge and shatter to pieces. There won’t be a damn thing for us to hold on to if that happens.”

Piper eased the strap of her reticule up her arm, then clamped her free hand on his forearm and tried to heave herself up as if he were a human rope.

“Stop!” Cal growled when her mad scramble altered the precarious balance of the overturned coach. “No sudden moves. Understand? Just hang there and let me haul you up an inch at a time.”

The mutt that was somewhere behind Cal suddenly appeared by his right shoulder. He whined and wagged his tail when he spotted her.

“Stay there, dog,” she commanded as Cal lifted her another inch away from imminent death.

She heard the mutt’s tail bang harder against the wall and realized his intentions
after
she made the crucial mistake of speaking directly to him. “No! Don’t move!”

To her terror and dismay the dog bounded playfully around Cal to lick her veiled face and paw at her hat.

“Damn it, get back, mutt,” Cal muttered as the coach rocked unsteadily.

Another stab of horror knifed through Piper when the dog’s oversize paw connected with the side of her head, causing her plumed hat to shift sideways. When the mutt grabbed the feathers on her hat, as if they belonged to a bird that he was instinctively trying to shake the life out of, Piper shrieked.

Cal let go with his left hand that was braced against the window frame and pushed the dog out of the way. Piper’s veiled hat was still clamped in the mutt’s jaws as he tumbled helter-skelter inside the coach.

Sickening dread pooled in the pit of Piper’s stomach when she found herself staring directly into Cal’s shocked expression. She watched him appraise her without her protective disguise. She could see disbelief, condemnation and suspicion gathering in those golden
eyes as he registered the fact that she wasn’t who she pretended to be.

She decided, right there and then, that it was not a good idea to shock the person who held your life in the balance. Cal was so stunned that she felt his hand loosen on her arm momentarily, causing her to drop a quick two inches before he regathered his composure and clamped a fierce hold on her.

“I thought there was something peculiar about you that didn’t add up,” he said, then scowled down at her.

“I can explain,” she squeaked, then glanced down at the empty space beneath her. “Oh, God!” She thrashed in attempt to find footing.

“Hold still!” Cal barked at her. The expression on his face was thunderous.

Piper froze in midair. Her heart pounded inside her chest and she reminded herself to breathe.

“I know this looks bad,” she chirped. “But please don’t let me go. And if I die, promise me that you will take my money and jewels to my sister at Fort Davis.”

“I already have one last request to fulfill,” he muttered. “I don’t need another one.”

“Then at least tell Penelope what happened.”

“Fine. I’ll do that. But in the meantime here’s what we’re going to do. On the count of three I’m going to throw myself backward and you’re going to lurch forward and grab hold of me. And get hold of that mutt with your free hand if you can. Ready?”

Piper wasn’t sure she would ever be ready because if this plan didn’t work she was a goner. He might be, too.

“One, two, three—”

Quinn threw himself backward with enough force to drag Agatha—who had turned out to be an exceedingly attractive young con artist—through the opening. The team of horses shifted uneasily, dragging the coach a little farther off the edge of the cliff. Quinn shoved the woman sideways to counterbalance the teetering coach. Then he vaulted to his feet.

“Get up and make it quick!” he told the imposter when she didn’t react swiftly enough to suit him.

Using the heel of his hand he popped open the door that was above him. He heaved himself up to sit atop the overturned stage, then thrust his hand back inside to grab Agatha—and he was dying to find out who she really was. Well, not dying to find out, he amended. That was a bad choice of words, considering they had come within a hairbreadth of catapulting into the hereafter.

To Quinn’s surprise and exasperation, she tossed the squirming dog to him. Frankly, it astounded him that she placed the mutt’s safety above her own. Then he reminded himself that she had saved the mutt from extermination and had gotten attached to him.

Quinn hooked his arm under the mutt’s belly, then set him aside. Then he clasped the woman’s arm and towed her upward. For the space of a moment, while they were face-to-face, he tumbled into the depths of eyes so blue that they gleamed like silver in the sunlight. Quinn glanced away before the woman’s astonishing beauty sidetracked him.

Whoever she was, she was the fraud who had teased and tormented him for two days. He wasn’t wasting more time or sympathy on her either, he promised him
self. But for damn certain he was going to find out
why
she was charading as a crone and
who
was the rightful owner of the money and pouch of valuables that she had with her.

She had to be up to no good, he thought cynically. Most of the folk he encountered were, after all.

When he set the woman to her knees beside him, he spun around and hopped off the coach. As he reached back to pull her to safety the dog leaped to the ground—and got right under his feet. Scowling, Quinn tripped backward and the woman landed on top of him, forcing his breath out in a whoosh.

Any other time he wouldn’t object to having a beguiling woman sprawled on top of him. But not now and not this treacherous female. Muttering, Quinn hooked his arm around the woman’s well-padded waist and sent her rolling to the ground beside him.

Launching himself to his feet, he darted to the back of the coach to hurriedly unstrap their luggage before the coach tumbled off the ledge.

And sure enough, he barely had time to set aside the satchels and his bedroll before the horses pranced impatiently and the stage flipped upside down. Quinn darted forward to remove the pin that kept the tongue of the coach secured to the team of horses. He grabbed the reins to prevent the horses from charging off when the coach plummeted down the side of the mountain.

Debris scattered everywhere as the coach struck one jagged outcropping of rock after another. Shattered pieces of the stage kerplopped in the stream and floated away.

Quinn stood there for a moment, studying the wreck
age and counting himself damn lucky that he wasn’t a part of it.

“As I said, I can explain…”

The woman’s voice no longer held that nasal, grating pitch. Quinn rounded on her, feeling deceived and betrayed. He’d had more than enough of that in his line of work, without this sneaky female pulling the wool over his eyes.

“This better be good,” he said, and smirked disrespectfully. “Posing as a persnickety old harridan who is probably carrying stolen money—and who knows what else—doesn’t say much for your integrity, does it? I’ve dealt with several treacherous bandits in my day, but you’re about as conniving as they come,
Agatha.
” He spit out her name like a curse, which is exactly how he meant it.

“My name is Piper…uh…just Piper,” she introduced herself.

“Another alias? Somehow I’m not surprised.”

The fact that she refused to provide her last name made him all the more wary of her. He would bet his right arm that she was a fugitive from justice, traveling incognito and carrying stolen money.

Vowing that a pretty face wouldn’t sway him—and she definitely had that going for her—Quinn stalked over to tether the horses. While Piper watched him curiously, he reversed direction to retrieve his satchel and bedroll.

“What are you going to do? Surely you don’t intend to leave me in the middle of nowhere!” she howled at him.

“Surely I do,” he said, refusing to be influenced by the
shocked expression on her beguiling features. “I’m tracking the outlaw gang that killed my best friend six months ago in a canyon near here. You’re on your own, lady.”

She stamped her foot and glowered at him. Ah, that feisty disposition wasn’t just an act, he noticed. The woman was teeming with indomitable spirit and fiery temperament.

“Now, see here, Cal. You can’t just ride off and leave me here, knowing I’ll probably die.” She wagged her finger in his face. “And if I do, I
will
come back to haunt you. You can depend on it.”

“I’m sure you will. But you’ll have to get in line. I’ve heard the same threat from a number of folks.”

When she scurried after him, he stopped short and then grunted uncomfortably when she slammed into him. “Look, lady, I’m going to change into my usual attire before I grab a horse and ride out. I suggest you change into something more practical for riding, unless you want to hang around here waiting for the eastbound coach to show up.”

“And when will that be?”

“In a couple of days.”

“A couple of
days?
” she wailed in frustration.

He watched her draw herself up and tilt her chin at him. Quinn blinked when the image of Agatha-the-hag superimposed itself on Piper. Scowling, he whipped around, then strode off to change clothes, refusing to give the lovely shyster another thought.

Piper watched Cal disappear from sight, then hurried over to rummage through her luggage for appropriate clothing. Knowing she would be living at an army gar
rison, she had packed two pair of riding breeches and blouses.

Casting a cautious glance over her shoulder to ensure Cal wasn’t spying on her, she tugged the padded gown down to her waist, then shrugged on her white blouse. Sparing another wary glance in the direction Cal had gone, she shoved the gown and petticoats past her knees, then snatched up her breeches and boots. When dressed, she crammed the padded gown, undergarments and valuables she had retrieved from Cal earlier into her satchel.

She staggered backward a few steps when Cal rounded the corner and stopped short to gape at her. He regarded her with the same astonished expression that she had trained on him. In the matter of a few minutes they had both altered their appearance drastically.

It took some getting used to.

Cal had cast off the flashy vest, white shirt and trousers. Now an Indian headband, decorated with beaded designs, held his long hair away from his face. Although he wore a white man’s black shirt, his muscular legs were encased in buckskin breeches, leggings and moccasins.

An ammunition belt hung diagonally across his broad chest and the double holster rode low on his hips. He carried a bullwhip that was coiled over his left shoulder, and he had a sheathed dagger strapped to his right thigh.

Now who was the imposter? she wondered suspiciously. He didn’t look to be a full-blood Indian, though the sun had darkened his complexion. But he definitely dressed like an Indian. Whoever or whatever this man was, she had the inescapable feeling that he wasn’t the tumbleweed gambler that he had impersonated.

“Who
are
you?” Piper demanded when she finally recovered her powers of speech.

“Quinn Callahan,” he replied as he gave her the once-over-thrice. “I’m a Texas Ranger.”

His penetrating stare caused her to shift uneasily from one foot to the other. This was proof positive that her disguise had been a good idea. Thanks to her disguise, she hadn’t had to deal with speculative male stares during her journey.

Whoever Callahan really was, she didn’t believe for a moment that he was a Ranger. He looked more like a half-breed renegade to her. In addition, she wasn’t sure she could trust him not to take advantage of her vulnerability while they were alone in the wilderness.

He looked her up and down once again. His expression was so unreadable that she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking…or planning to do to her.

“I hope you’re packing hardware, Piper,” he said before he strode past her to retrieve a horse. “You won’t last a half a day in this wilderness, especially dressed in that garb. That getup advertises every feminine asset you have. If you come across any other men of less moral fiber than I have then whatever righteous virtues you might have left will be gone by nightfall. Guaranteed.”

“Which is why I relied on a disguise for my protection,” she pointed out. “I am not a complete fool, you know. I am fully aware that men are not to be trusted. They
always
want something from a woman.”

Quinn chastised himself for glancing over his shoulder to admire the appealing sight of this shapely female. She was right, he admitted to himself. He would
like something from her, too, although he wouldn’t allow himself to yield to the temptation.

He made it a policy to avoid devious women whenever possible.

But the damnable truth was that Piper was the most strikingly attractive woman he had ever laid eyes on. Plus, every time he stared too long at her he lost his train of thought. That was not good.

Everything male inside him had responded fiercely the instant he rounded the bend of the road—and saw
her
standing where Agatha Stewart should have been. Agatha he could have handled.
This
woman he wasn’t so sure about. She was a distraction of the worst sort at the worst time.

“You don’t look like a Ranger,” she said doubtfully. “I want to see proof.”

It wasn’t the first time he had heard that demand. Quinn retrieved his sidearm from his left holster, then dug out the tarnished star that he only flashed about while making arrests. “This good enough for you? Or this…” He waved the small, leather-bound book in her face. “It’s a fugitive list that gives the names and descriptions of wanted criminals. All Rangers carry them.” He stared suspiciously at her. “I bet if I looked closely I could probably find
you
in it.”