The Loner (32 page)

Picking his way down the cliff by moonlight, dodging the needles and spines of cholla, prickly pear and Spanish dagger by luck alone, Logan waited for his trouble sense to quiver. He was very well aware that he might be about to make one of the biggest mistakes of his life, but two things propelled him toward the collection of buildings built originally by a rancher, then usurped by a loose-knit gang of outlaws and renamed Devil's Rest. First, the Plunketts deserved justice. Second, he'd spied the yellow bandanna tied to an agave stalk near the entrance to the canyon. While it could be a coincidence, Logan didn't believe that was the case. It was a signal, one that dated back to his childhood, the flag on their tree house in the Piney Woods.

He'd bet his last bullet that Holt Driscoll had come to Black Shadow Canyon to help.

The idea made sense. After getting Cade to Fort Worth, where he would have medical help and the assistance of other friends such as Dair MacRae, Holt would have continued the mission. He easily could have arrived before Logan, considering the delays he and Caroline had experienced on the trail. If Holt had come to Devil's Rest to help him, Logan couldn't sneak his family out the back door, so to speak, and leave Holt behind to figure it out. He needed to find his friend or confirm that the signal wasn't a signal at all.

So, while he might be making a huge mistake, he truly had no choice. He'd do anything to help his friend. Sort of like Caroline and her old ornery outlaw.

Now that he'd met the man, seen the love in his eyes as he gazed at Caroline and Will, Logan had a hard time keeping an angry on for the fellow. Sure, with his quest for vengeance, Ben Whitaker had thrown Logan's life for a loop. But he'd been there for Caroline and Will when Logan wasn't around. For that and that alone, Logan owed him.

Those thoughts hovered in Logan's mind as he made his way to the canyon floor at the point where desert conditions transitioned to a more fertile zone. Here, trees and shrubs offered concealment and he paused beneath the spreading branches of an alligator juniper to observe activity around the small settlement.

They'd added two buildings since his last visit, bringing the total up to eight. In addition to the combination saloon and whorehouse, Devil's Rest boasted a bunk-house, a store of sorts, a mess hall and a stable and corral. The rest of the buildings were private residences, one of which served as the Plunkett family home.

Logan studied the house Jim had indicated to be Fanny's. Lamplight burned in a single window. Someone was home. Probably Fanny, likely alone. He could slip inside and kill her and be done with it. Heaven knew she deserved it.

Considering all the evil she'd wrought he probably was a fool to hesitate, but Logan had never killed a woman, and the thought of doing so left him feeling twitchy. Arresting her and dragging her off to jail without rising the residents of Black Shadow Canyon against him would take good planning and even better luck. First and foremost, Logan intended to keep his family safe. If he did have a Texas Ranger here to help, the situation got a whole lot easier.

He shifted his focus to the saloon from which the tinny notes of a piano drifted into the night air. Lights shone in every window there—including all the upstairs rooms. The place was hopping tonight. While he wouldn't expect to find Holt sitting at a table drinking a whiskey—Holt's face was even more recognizable by this group of miscreants than his own—that's undoubtedly where Holt would expect to find him, since the town saloon was always the best place to gather information. If Holt was in Black Shadow Canyon, he'd be in a place where he could watch the entrance to the saloon.

Therefore, Logan had to make an appearance of some kind. The question was how to do it without revealing his identity.

He needed a disguise, something better than this sweat-stained serape and oversize hat he'd used on the trail. What could he—

Hiss
came a sound from behind him. "Logan?"

Caroline. Logan went stiff as a fence post. He whipped his head around. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm watching your back, just like I vowed."

Rage flashed like fire inside him. "You need to get your cute little butt back up to that cave, Caroline Grey. Right now."

"Let me put this simply. No. You can't walk into Devil's Rest as Logan Grey."

"I don't intend to. This disguise has held up so far."

"Yes, but that was the trail and this is Devil's Rest. You're too threatening in that serape. Someone—probably more than one someone—will shoot you on sight. You need me to be a distraction and you need to wear this." She shoved a businessman's suit into his arms.

"The hell I do. I'd look like a banker. I'd be mobbed with men trying to rob me. Where did you get this?"

"Not a banker, a newsman. The suit is Ben's. You're of a similar size. When I heard Will mention how scary he thought you look in the serape, I began to worry. This isn't as good as the orange pants and purple vest, but you'll be a less threatening companion for me in a business suit. We can say you worked at the Artesia
Standard
with Ben and that's why you accompanied me. Now hurry, Logan."

Recognizing that she had a point and glad to be rid of the hot serape, he shed the blanket and donned the suit. It was tight across the shoulders and the pant legs were too short, but that helped make his appearance less threatening. Damn, but the woman was smart. Then she put one of those silly little bowler hats on top of his head and he scowled.

"We're wasting time," she said. "Either we go in together, or we don't go in at all."

"Why are you being so damned hardheaded?"

"Because I love you, Logan, and I don't want anything to happen to you. This began as my fight, and it's still my fight. I think I'll be safe enough if I arrive looking for Ben because Will has disappeared. The Plunketts can't know about Deuce's demise as of yet. They won't shoot me on sight. And you will be much safer slipping limpidly into Devil's Rest while I'm making a grand entrance."

"Limpidly! I told you..." He blew out a breath. "You are the most infuriating woman."

"We make a good team. Oh, I almost forgot. It's the crowning glory." She took his hat off, tugged a round tin from her pocket, opened it and smeared greasy stuff in his hair. From the other pocket she took a comb and slicked back his hair, then handed him back the stupid little hat. "Now, what is the plan?"

"I don't have a plan that involves you," he snapped, messing with his hair. He absolutely hated pomade.

"Then let's make one." She slapped his hand away from his head. "Leave it alone. You don't look at all like yourself. I should have thought of this before." Then, moving on to another subject, she asked, "Now, what is your goal here, Logan? Just what exactly do you intend to do to the Plunketts?"

He argued with himself for another moment, then admitted she was right. They did make a good team.

"I'm not as concerned about the Plunketts as I am about Holt." He explained about the bandanna signal and his suspicion that they had unexpected help.

"So you don't want to kill them?" she asked, the hope in her voice obvious.

"I suspect we'd be leaving ourselves open to retaliation in the future if we don't deal with them now, but if I have the choice, I'll be happy to get everyone out of this canyon safe and sound."

"Then let's do that." He saw the flash of her smile in the moonlight, then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth before taking a step back.

Well, that just teased him. Wanting more, he pulled her against him and kissed her hard. "When we're done with this, we need to find an opportunity to be alone."

"I won't argue with that."

"Finally. Something she won't argue about." He kissed the back of her hand, then said, "Okay, here's what I think we should do."

Ten minutes later, her neckline pulled just a tiny bit lower than normal, her hips swaying just a little broader than usual, Caroline sashayed into Devil's Rest Saloon with Logan a few steps behind her. Speaking in a melodramatic tone, she clasped her hands in front of her and said, "I'm looking for my father, Ben Whitaker."

Before she could continue her prepared spiel, a stranger about Logan's age shot from his chair and rushed toward her saying, "Darling, you've finally arrived. I've been so worried!"

When he took her in his arms and kissed her, Logan reconsidered his decision not to kill.

Caroline was prepared for guns, knives, and considering this had been Apache country, even bows and arrows. She wasn't prepared for a kiss.

As a result, she stood frozen in shock as the stranger kissed her lavishly, then embraced her, whispering in her ear. "Holt Driscoll sent me."

"Oh." She smiled against his shoulder, well aware of the avid attention of the others in the room.

Logan stepped forward, menace in his tone. "You let her go."

The stranger glanced up and met Logan's gaze. "Hello, Thurgood."

Caroline figured she was the only one who noted the flash of speculation in Logan's eyes and the brief hesitation before he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Caroline, of course." He kept his arm slung around Caroline's shoulder as he faced Logan and raked him with a scathing gaze. "When I heard that she left town with the likes of you I knew I had to come after her. Honey—" he gave Caroline a quick glance "—what were you thinking, making this trip with the town drunk? Why, if you'd run across trouble in the desert ole Thurgood here would have been worthless as a pail of hot spit."

Caroline took a fast glance around at the suspicious faces in the saloon and decided they'd spent enough time on Act One. "Thurgood is not the town drunk. That's a medical condition that makes him stumble a lot. You be nice to Thurgood. I had to get here fast and he was kind enough to accompany me." Raising her voice, she said, "Excuse me, do any of you know where I can find my father, Ben Whitaker? Or perhaps you've noticed a new boy in town? I think my son, Will Grey, ran away from home to find him."

Half the men in the saloon and all three females looked toward a table in the back corner. Caroline followed their gazes and her knees turned to water. He looked exactly like his brother—down to the cruelty in his expression. Ace Plunkett.

He lifted his stare from his beer and said, "Ben Whitaker? That son of a bitch is dead."

Even though she knew it to be a lie, hearing those words come from that man's mouth shocked Caroline and made it easier for her to play her role. She gasped and clutched her hands against her breasts. "Wh-wh-what?"

"Deader'n a beaver hat," Plunkett returned, drunk-enly slurring his words.

"And...and...my boy?"

Plunkett swiped up his beer glass and threw it at her, exploding, "What the hell good is he gonna do us with Whitaker dead?"

Caroline ducked and the glass crashed against the wall behind her, shattering and sliding to the floor. Deciding he'd given her the perfect cue to make her exit, she burst into fake sobs, turned and rushed out the door, confident that Logan and the stranger would follow.

Outside, Logan led her away to a spot where they wouldn't be overheard. Acting solicitous to Caroline, he spoke to the stranger. "Holt sent you?"

"He said you'd recognize the code name. He brought me. He's keeping a low profile since half the outlaws in this place know him. I'm new blood in the company. My name is Tom Wilkerson."

"You a Ranger, too?"

"I have a bright, shiny badge."

"I appreciate your help. Look, I need to talk to Holt— we've had a few developments."

"He's waiting for you up by the big yucca behind the saloon. He said you'd know which one he meant."

As Logan nodded, Caroline pictured the tall yucca plant that stood like a sentinel on one of the hills behind the makeshift town. She and Will had discussed its size earlier, estimating it to be almost thirty feet tall.

Tom Wilkerson tipped his hat toward Caroline. "My apologies for acting forward, ma'am. Holt and I thought that my claiming to be your beau provided the best excuse for my hanging around. Also, my condolences on the loss of Mr. Whitaker."

"No apologies necessary, Mr. Wilkerson," she replied, offering him a smile.

"Sure they are," Logan muttered.

"And as far as Ben goes, he's one of the developments Logan mentioned."

Logan gazed up the hill to where the yucca stood reflected in the moonlight. "Wilkerson, can I trust you to guard my wife until I get back?"

"Yessir."

"And keep your hands—and mouth—off her."

"Yessir...although, remember I'm supposed to be comforting her."

Logan's eyes glittered like a cat's in the moonlight. "I reckon a man has to be nervy to become a Texas Ranger, but you watch your step, boyo."

Caroline gave Logan's hand a squeeze, told him to be careful, then watched him fade into the darkness. For the next ten minutes or so, she sat waiting with the ranger, softly making small talk and acting distraught and upset whenever anyone happened by. She kept a close watch on the door of the saloon, hoping to avoid another encounter with Ace Plunkett. She was aware, but not overly nervous. After all, she had two Texas Rangers and a range detective to protect her. How much trouble could she possibly get into?

She no sooner noticed Tom Wilkerson stiffen when a feminine voice spoke. "Caroline? Caroline Grey? I'm an old friend of Ben and Suzanne's. My name is Fanny Plunkett and I'm just so sorry about what's happened. Why don't you come to my house, dear, and we'll share a spot of tea."

Caroline offered the brassy-haired, curvaceous-figured outlaw queen a shaky smile. How much possible trouble?

Plenty.

Logan thought his heart might just jump out of his chest when he saw Fanny Plunkett tuck her arm through Caroline's and walk her down the street. He let out a string of curses and struck out at Holt. "What the hell kind of Ranger is he?"

"A good one," Holt assured. "He will protect her. And besides, Fanny isn't going to do anything bad to her. She's probably hoping that Ben shared information with Caroline about the map, and that Caroline can help her find the treasure."