Give Me A Texas Ranger (18 page)

As though she’d simply given Hayden a peck on the cheek, Ella straightened her back. Scared to look at him, she focused on the strange-lookin’ horse nibbling on the grass in her yard.

Horse thief!

Hanging!

Ugly horse!

Realization slammed her between the eyes. She had been accused of stealing a Ranger’s horse. Not only had she slapped the daylights out of Hayden, but now he had no reason to believe anything she said.

She gulped and tried to gather her wits. Slowly she turned to face the Ranger, who was within spittin’ distance of the gelding.

Ella crossed her wrists in front of her, signaling defeat. That’d make it easier for him to handcuff her before carting her off to jail.

“Put your hands down,” Hayden growled, and began checking on the gash in his horse’s foreleg. “You’re already in my custody.”

“I, uh, I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” A frown clouded his face as he continued to examine the gelding. “I’ve been hit harder by a mesquite branch though.”

“Can we start over?” She offered him her right hand in a friendly gesture. “Hi, I’m Patience Stevenson, but I prefer Ella.”

Hayden wasn’t about to accept her apology without plenty of grappling first. If he hadn’t been so exasperated with the woman, he might have found her approach humorous. He didn’t take kindly to the idea of “starting over.” Not to mention, he wouldn’t be around long enough to start anything over.

Then there was the issue of Ella being responsible for the kettle of fish she’d gotten herself into. Slapping the living tar out of him didn’t help his attitude toward her an iota; although he had to admit he might, just might, have deserved it. She’d made her dislike for being called a “little woman” clear, and he’d chosen to ignore it.

Damn, the lady’s sheer presence disturbed him in ways he’d almost forgotten existed. He didn’t want to take the chance to feel the things in his heart that he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden for so long. A slow burn settled below his belt. He wouldn’t give in to being human. He was a Ranger first and a man second.

Hayden looked up. Searching her face, he forced back a smile.

She stood with crossed arms, foot tapping.

“What happened to Stewball?” He realized he was being a tad short with her, but time wasn’t on his side.

Hayden untied the bandana from his neck and used it to wipe off a layer of dirt and pieces of grass that had stuck to a light film of ointment. On closer inspection, the wound seemed minor. “You doctor him?” Hayden asked.

“Yes. I found him near my backdoor, eating carrots. The knife I used to dig them with was on the ground, so I figured he’d knocked it off and cut his leg.” She patted the horse between his ears when he nudged her hand. “I fixed him up the best I knew how.” She looked up and boldly met his gaze. Sincerity played in her eyes. “I didn’t steal your horse, Ranger.”

“I believe you.” Hayden wiped his palms before stuffing the bandana in his pocket. “Who in their right mind would steal such a hammerhead?” His attempt at humor failed miserably, as did the smile he tried on. “Thank you for carin’ for him.” Extending his hand, he added, “I’m Hayden Charles McGraw.”

She accepted the gesture meant as friendship. He still wasn’t all that sure about the “starting over” idea. In his estimation, they had to begin and finish before starting over, but it felt good to hold her hand. It was strong, and not all soft like he’d expected. The woman was used to hard work. Something he admired.

For a wild, startling moment again she stirred things inside of him…feelings he’d just reminded himself didn’t need awakening. He didn’t want to let her hand go.

“Ranger McGraw.” Dixie busted out the backdoor, waving an envelope. “This whatcha waitin’ for?”

Hayden met the woman halfway. He accepted the parcel and impatiently tore it open.

Only a single sheet of paper.

His replacement Warrant of Authority. Nothing else.

Although it was a slim possibility, he thought maybe his captain had sent him his new assignment. Damn his hide. Surely enough time had passed to where he’d let Hayden back in his good graces.

“That’s one fine-lookin’ horse.” Dixie stopped to admire Stewball. “Your gear’s over by the shed.” She pointed toward a wooden structure a hundred yards away beside the bank of a fast-running stream. Made of an odd assortment of materials, the building leaned precariously downhill.

“Thanks. Guess I’d best get this back to Sheriff Oldham.” He folded the paper, pleased that he hadn’t called the ol’ toad something profane. “No need to put unnecessary weight on Stewball’s leg right now. Care if I leave him here until I get this warrant delivered?”

Ella nodded an okay.

“I’ll be back directly.” He headed up the road leading to Buffalo Springs. Suddenly he stopped and turned, catching Ella’s eye. He tipped his hat and said, “Thanks again, Patience Eleanor Stevenson.”

“Supper at seven,” Ella said, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t expect carrots.”

Whistling, the Ranger turned and walked away.

Ella watched Hayden until he crossed the bridge. Her heart told her that he’d not be back for supper or anything else.

A few minutes later, after washing up and changing clothes, Ella stood in the middle of her tiny kitchen area off the saloon. She had piled her long tresses on top of her head and secured them with one of her mother’s delicate wooden combs. At least her neck felt cool.

The laughter and merrymaking from the saloon bled through the thin walls. Generally that would make Ella smile, but not today.

A lot had happened in a short period of time. She picked up one of her mother’s aprons hanging on a hook. She ran her fingers over the familiar flour-sack fabric, settling on a red embroidered heart on the yoke. She found herself caressing the motif and thinking about her mama. Sometimes she missed her incessant mothering. Ella thought back on how she had resisted her mother’s sage advice, which sometimes resembled orders. She sure could use some maternal nurturing at the moment.

She pulled the apron on and tied it behind her, then sat down at the kitchen table.

Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes. She put her face in her hands and let them flow. Something she never did.

Ella hated showing weakness of any sort, yet she’d let a good-lookin’ man turn her head. There should be no shame in not being strong, but that wasn’t what her mama taught her. Strength is character. Without it, she’d be nothing. Yet she had allowed herself to show emotions, be vulnerable and exposed, which equated to weakness. Ella had reacted without considering the consequences. Had she gone mad? Yes, showing her emotions was a weakness and it had never been acceptable…not yesterday, not today, and not tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed away the tears and rose to her feet. Maybe she had simply responded humanly to an ugly situation.

Besides, it wasn’t every day a woman could speak her mind to a mob at a snobby town-hall meeting, nearly be hanged, and get married to a confounded Texas Ranger.

But she wouldn’t have to worry about the lawman much longer. After today he’d be gone. She saw it in his eyes. Every man she’d ever known had let her down, so why should she trust Hayden? What made her think he was any different? Yet there was something about him. A shared attraction. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It was only mid-afternoon, too early to begin supper. Another chorus of hoots and loud laughter seeped through the cracks in the wall. Probably a joke or maybe a winning hand of poker. Hilarity was always plentiful in the saloon.

Unless there was a problem she wouldn’t see Dixie or Audrey Jo until suppertime, when they’d each come eat a bite and then get back to serving drinks and smiles to customers.

Emotionally drained, yet with a business to take care of, Ella tried to clean out the fickle cobwebs in her mind, not to mention the visions of Hayden.

Tomorrow was supply day. The drummer, Willard Porter, would arrive shortly after dawn, so she didn’t have the luxury to wait until later to gather her order. No time for daydreams.

Ella opened the pie safe and counted the bear claws. She needed to bake more before morning so she’d have enough to barter sufficient lard and flour for the next batch. She scanned the Mason jars lined up side by side and made a mental note. Twenty-four, all apple jelly. That would bring enough to pay for any fruit in season that Willard found between Mobeetie and Wagon Mound, New Mexico. She pulled a notebook from the top of the cabinet, and added paraffin, sugar, and cornmeal to her list.

Without the liquor order, mostly whiskey, which Muley and Dixie took care of, Ella might come out with enough extra money from the marmalades and pastries to put aside a little bit for something special for herself. Maybe a brand-spankin’-new dress. Her current wardrobe consisted of the pink one she’d just taken off and hung to air out, and the pitiful, faded calico on her back.

Ella sighed. Most likely there’d be no extra money by the time Willard and Muley bartered things out. There seemed to always be more on her “needs” list than she could keep up with by making jams and jellies and baking.

The day was running long, and the room was getting hotter by the minute. The smell of simmering beans hung in the air. She pulled an iron skillet off a nail beside the cupboard, and opened the cornmeal canister. Less than one cup. Then she recalled the last time she filled the can and thinking how quickly the cornmeal was vanishing. For all she knew, Muley might be putting it on the floor instead of sawdust.

Even less sugar in its container.

The door opened and Dixie fluttered in, carrying a napkin-lined basket.

“Is everything okay out there?” Ella put on a smile, and replaced the skillet. “What’s that?”

“Sourdough biscuits. They’re having a rip-snortin’ good time. You’re the talk of the town,” Dixie said.

“Nearly being hanged gave the gossipmongers plenty of fodder, huh?”

“Nope. Lots of folks were makin’ bets that your Texas Ranger wouldn’t let you down. I think some even made money off him.” She giggled. “Nope. None of that. It’s how you stood up for other folks’ rights that’s got their gums aflappin’.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The saloon is filled to the brim. We got more business than anybody else in town. They all said they want to buy beer from somebody who didn’t mind setting the hypocrites of Buffalo Springs straight.” Dixie set the basket down. “Don’t fix supper tonight. Ladies brought in some chicken and dumplin’s, even corn dodgers and two pans of apple brown betty to show their appreciation for standing up for them. Give me your word you won’t tell anybody, but a couple of ol’ biddies from Buffalo Springs brought food, and I think one was the sheriff’s missus.” Dixie wiped her hands on a tea towel. “It’s about like a church social. Not that I’ve been to many. There’s enough food for everyone, even the customers. Come see it for yourself.”

That put a sweet-sour taste in Ella’s mouth, and she forced a smile. “Thanks. Maybe after I finish my order.”

Dixie walked to the sideboard and took out a cup. “They sure like that man of yours savin’ your hide. Marrying you and all.”

“He’s
not
my man.” Ella bit down hard on her lower lip. “Besides, he won’t be coming back.”

“What makes you think that?” Dixie said as she poured coffee.

“Oh, he’ll come fetch his horse, but won’t stay.” Ella forced a tiny smile, as she glanced out the little window over the sink. “He sure has a sweet disposition, doesn’t he?”

“I presume you mean the horse, ’cause you sure as hell can’t say Ranger McGraw’s disposition is sweet.” Dixie chuckled. “So what makes you so sure he won’t return?”

“Just the way he walked away.” Ella straightened her back, trying to hide her disappointment. “He’s a Ranger. Doesn’t stick long anywhere. It’s in his blood. He lives and breathes rangering.”

Dixie weighed her with a critical squint, making Ella wonder if she agreed or disagreed.

Out of habit, Ella touched the heart on her apron. “The man’s not any good at saying hello, and worse at saying good-bye.”

“He’ll be back, girl.” Dixie sat down at the table. “Besides, you all have to get the marriage deal straightened out.”

Ice ran through Ella’s veins. She hadn’t thought about the fact that they were legally married. Kinda the opposite of what the law intended…to make those living without clergy legalized. She and Hayden were bound in matrimony by the laws of Texas, but not in the eyes of God.

“Got any idea how I go about getting out of this mess?” Ella felt unsettled. “Other than stealing Mr. Scott’s book of records?”

“I don’t rightfully know, except you gotta tell ’em why you are wantin’ a divorce to undo it. Heard that down in Brazos County a wife told the judge that during their time together her husband had sold and squandered pert near all of her personal property. And, an Ezekiel Somebody-or-Other accused his wife of adultery. So I guess it doesn’t really matter who says what. It’s gettin’ out of this pickle that counts.”

“So I’ve got to confess to the world for an eternity that I married a Texas Ranger to keep from being hanged?” Her stomach soured and she thought she was going to upchuck. “Where’d you get all your information anyway?”

“There was a lawyer-type gambler out there a while ago, who was givin’ out advice for a free beer.”

“Muley isn’t giving beer away, is he?”

“Nope.” Dixie squirmed. “I paid for it.”

“That’s twice today I’ve seen you squandering money.”

“I just wanna help.”

“So what advice, other than I have to tell everyone what happened, did he give?”

“It’s not what he said, but what he didn’t say that made me begin thinkin’.”

Ella could tell by the way Dixie was fidgeting that she didn’t necessarily know how to go about saying what she had on her mind.

“Okay, Dixie, quit beatin’ the devil around the stump.”

“Don’t ask me how I know this, but if you don’t…” Dixie obviously was having problems spitting out the words.

“Don’t what?”

“You know.” Again Dixie hesitated, turning her palms toward the ceiling, as if trying to push up—more like erect—something. She repeated, “You know.”

Ella watched intently, not sure exactly what the older woman meant. “No. I don’t know.”

Dixie looked around, as though there were others in the room, and leaned close to the younger woman. Dropping her voice to nearly a whisper, she said, “You know. Whatever you do, don’t do
it
with him.”

“It?” Ella lowered her voice in the same manner.

“The thing you don’t allow in the saloon,” said Dixie.

“No cheating at cards?”

The blank look on Dixie’s face said it all.
It
became abundantly clear. Ella felt downright stupid for not getting Dixie’s drift immediately, but the whole conversation wasn’t exactly one she’d ever had before with anyone.

Trying to slough off some of the uneasiness, Ella joked. “Cussing?”

Dixie raised a questioning eyebrow. Pained, she said, “No! You know…”

“Oh, my gracious!” Ella cried, as though surprised.

“Yep, the thing soiled doves do.”

“In other words, I gotta make sure we
do not
consummate our union.”

Ella wasn’t convinced the ol’ dance-hall girl knew the gist of the two-dollar word, but had no doubt that “consummate” and “it” had the exact same meaning.

Dixie twitched her nose and smiled, probably happy that she had finally made some headway with her explanation. She stood. “Whether you recognize it or not, girl, from the way you look at that rascal of a man you don’t want to accept as your husband, it might be harder than you might think to keep him out of your bed.”

“It won’t be hard ’cause he won’t be back.”